Fianna Leighton - Tales of Clan Mackay

by Return to the Highlands

  ***

  Sutherland climbed the ladder into the tower, shutting the door with the same grim smile, scanning the room with a quick glance. “It is time to leave.”

  Mary drew back, pulling her cloak tight around her neck. “And where do we go now, my lord? The Mackay are surely on your trail, it will only be a matter of time.”

  The Earl snorted faintly. “Time is on my side, lass. By the time they figure out where I am, you will be far away and out of my hands. Your demise will not be my doing.” He stepped closer, towering over the two of them. “Fight me in any way and Fiona dies.”

  Fiona hissed, moving in front of Mary. “Ye think me so easily had, then?”

  She could not have moved fast enough to evade Sutherland’s sudden grasp as he dragged her to his chest. “Aye, I do. You do not have the strength nor cunning to fight me. If you wish her to live you will as well do as I say.”

  Mary gripped Fiona’s arm, pulling her back when Sutherland released her. “We’ll not fight ye, not now. But any chance at escape will be taken, ye can count on that.”

  Sutherland only laughed. He shoved them toward the door, clearly amused. Mary climbed down the ladder carefully, keeping her cloak tight around her body. Soon she’d have no way to hide her condition without her cloak.

  Nicholas had to find them. She prayed that he would even as Sutherland tossed her behind him on his horse.

  ***

  The Viking ship found a channel to sail, the mouth of a small river affording them a way to shore unfrozen by ice. Sebastian moved as close as he could as the men leaped out of the longboat, sails wrapped tightly and covered as if the Vikings meant to stay for some time. They moved along the shore and then began to make camp in a protected cove of rock. Some began to move out, perhaps searching for wood and Sebastian shifted to stay hidden. The leader stood with arms folded over his chest, covered in a fur cloak, his blond hair braided behind his head, a narrow band of iron across his brow to mark his rank.

  Tents were set up, another indication the men meant to stay, food was brought from the ship.

  Sebastian crouched behind his rock, considering his options. He could confront the Vikings and ask their business, but he was not on Mackay land anymore, but Sutherland, so that clearly was not a good choice, for the Vikings knew this as well.

  He could remain, but staying hidden was a challenge as more of the Vikings moved around.

  He could return to Varrich, but that would take him weeks. Not a choice at all.

  Sebastian decided prudence would be the wisest choice, moving back for more cover, yet keeping close enough to watch what was going on. Something would change, offering a new chance at information.

  It came two days later, as Sebastian sat in a near by tree, hidden by the heavy boughs of pine. Two of the Vikings had stopped near his tree to relieve themselves, their conversation easily heard. Sebastian thanked his father for his tutor, for being so close to the northern coast had meant learning the Viking’s language important enough to suffer his son’s complaints.

  “How long do we wait,” one of the men asked.

  “Olaf says until they get here. We’ve plenty of supplies. Whatever it is they’ve promised him, it’s worth his time.”

  “Our time,” the first man complained and then shrugged, stepping away from the tree. “We share in his fortune, I can only hope it will be gold. I’ve a good use for coin these days, it buys many things.”

  The other man chuckled, shaking his head. “No gold, I am sure of that. I think slaves, perhaps. I heard Olaf ask questions the messenger how old they were. He would not answer.”

  The first man grunted and the two walked out of Sebastian’s hearing. Slaves? It was not unusual for the Vikings in their raids to take hostages and enslave them, or sell them off to other raiders. Did that mean something had happened? Who were they waiting for?

  Sebastian didn’t like the feeling he had that whatever it was, it had something to do with the Mackay.

  ***

  Nicholas reached the tower at sunset. Long shadows stretched out from the stone castle and a icy wind shuttled snow around the base, but not enough to cover the many tracks in front of where the door stood above them.

  Rory slid off his horse, crouching down to touch the print of hooves. “Aye, been a number of horses, Nicky.”

  Nicholas sat still for a moment, leaning back to eye the tower. He knew it was empty, knew they had missed them yet again. He smiled, however, for even with the wind, they had a trail to follow.

  “I suggest we keep moving.”

  Rory stood up and looked at the tower. “The tracks are a few days old, enough that most are covered up by the snow. We wait much longer and they’ll be gone for sure.”

  Nicholas nodded. Rory mounted his horse and then turned to look at Malcolm. “What do ye think, Mal?”

  The Drummond smiled faintly. “Mary will do whatever it takes to stay alive, especially with a babe inside. Fiona,” he shook his head with a laugh. “Sutherland will have his hands full, I can promise ye that.”

  Nicholas blinked, all thought of Mary and especially the babe had been purposely shoved aside, tucked into a tiny corner of his brain to think about later, when things were not so dire. A baby, his wife was pregnant with his child and had not told him. He clenched his jaw at the thought, ignoring the knowledge that perhaps he’d not been in any shape to hear of it. A child of the Mackay would be prime opportunity for any of their rival clans. There were so many, it made him dizzy to think of it, to focus on just what Sutherland might do. He had no doubt in his mind that it had been Sutherland’s work.

  “Nicky lad, are ye all right?” Rory’s hand gripped Nicholas’ arm, drawing him back to the present.

  “Aye, I am fine,” Nicholas muttered, drawing free of the Drummond’s grasp. “Let’s go, I’ve no mind to wait much longer before confronting Sutherland.”

  Malcolm shifted closer, forcing Nicholas between the two Drummond men. “Keep a clear head, lad. For yer lass’s sake, keep a hold of yer temper. We’ve a ways to go as yet, and we need ye focused on the task at hand and that is finding the trail in these god forsaken hills.”

  Nicholas glared at Malcolm and then inhaled a deep breath. “That is not a problem. There are only a few paths to take with horses. As for my temper, it is under control, for now.”

  Malcolm grinned and moved away, clucking to his horse as Nicholas kicked his feet, leaving the two Drummonds behind in a flurry of snow.

  ***

  Mary inched closer to the fire, so small there was barely any warmth to it at all. She shivered, clutching her cloak. Fiona sat beside her, eyeing the Sutherland men with a scowl. Two weeks they weaved through the snow covered hills, fighting the chill and the fatigue of such a long journey, with supplies low and the Sutherland men growing restless. The Earl ignored them all.

  Mary had no idea where they were, surrounded as yet by hills that hid anything farther than a league in any direction. The weather remained bitter, with only a small tent for the two women. The Highlanders seemed impervious to the chill, although they pulled the wool over their heads at time, furs covering their shoulders.

  Sutherland had at least kept them warm, with furs for their tent, if nothing more. Food was scarce as the men hunted for game as time permitted. The Earl kept them on a rapid pace, as much as the terrain allowed.

  “How much farther,” Mary asked, hoping for an answer and expecting none.

  Sutherland looked up from his pipe, eyes dark with intent. “Another week.”

  She shivered at the thought.

  Fiona glared at the Earl. “And what then, my lord? What plans have ye then?”

  Sutherland smiled and leaned back against the rock behind him. “Would it make a difference if I told you?” He chuckled grimly. “You’ve tried three times to escape, enough I’m tempted to let you sleep in the cold as we do, but I’m not a horrible person. I need you alive and fairly well.”

/>   His gaze slid to Mary, an inspection that brought a shudder to her shoulders. “Why not just kill us and be done with it?”

  Sutherland clamped his teeth around his pipe, fingers caressing the bowl as he spoke. “Too easy, lass. And too short for what I intend. I want to make the Mackay suffer, Nicholas as much as anyone. I will have their lands some day. To that end, my dear, I will travel far for what I want.”

  Mary drew back, refusing to look at the earl, but then couldn’t resist as he leaned closer, pointing his pipe at her. “We will arrive at the coast in a week. I’ve criss crossed trails and taken my time to evade anyone following. They will find me a difficult quarry to bag.”

  “They’ll find ye, I’ve no doubt of that,” Fiona declared.

  “Oh I am sure at some point your men will reach me, but not in time, for either of you. Your journey is only just beginning.” Sutherland laughed softly. “They can’t kill me, or the King will have their heads.”

  “Nicholas will not care,” Mary said.

  Sutherland stopped laughing. “You are probably right. I am not a fool. I’ll be ready, have no fear of that.”

  Mary shifted closer to Fiona. She would not weep, nor allow the fear for Nicholas to overwhelm her. She had to think only of herself, and the babe. That meant staying alive and not taking further risks. They had tried twice to sneak away at night, and both times been caught. The first beating had slowed them down too much for Sutherland’s liking, the second had been more efficient. Mary had evaded the third by getting ill, leaving Sutherland watching her like a hawk for the last week.

  She had the bad feeling he had figured things out.

  Chapter 30

  Sebastian sucked in a shallow breath, stretched out in the lee of a rock for a moment of rest out of the wind, he’d fallen asleep only to wake feeling the point of something deadly sharp against his throat. He opened his eyes narrowly, squinting to find a Viking crouched before him, his dagger held against Sebastian’s throat.

  “Finally awake, Highlander?”

  Bastian grunted, frozen in place as the Viking grinned in amusement. “Lucky to be awake I’d say, eh?”

  “I’ve a mind to simply shift my blade and be done with it, but I recognize you. How long has it been, Mackay?”

  Sebastian smiled faintly, still unmoving as the blade did not waver either. “A long while, Olaf.”

  “Glad you remember. What are you doing spying on us?”

  “Got a bad feeling,” Bastian admitted.

  Olaf lifted a blond brow, the wind fluttering his shoulder length hair around his face. He shifted, withdrawing the blade enough that Sebastian could finally take a deep breath. “I’ve respect for a man’s intuition. I’ve no issue with the Mackay.”

  “Nor we with you,” Sebastian agreed, but then added, “yet.”

  The Viking grunted in amusement, rising easily to his feet. He gestured at Bastian to rise. Sebastian did so warily. Removal of the blade did not mean Olaf would not yet stab him if he felt so inclined.

  “I’ve done nothing, yet,” Olaf admitted. He gripped Sebastian’s shoulder, dragging him with him toward his camp. “But I’ve a mind perhaps to do something. Why does that concern one of the Mackay?”

  Sebastian went along without complaint, crouching beside the fire when Olaf released him. The other Vikings stared at him without expression, a deadly intent study that Sebastian did not ignore. “I’ve had a bad feeling for days, and was drawn here.” He met Olaf’s blue gaze, did not look away. “Ye know how we are at somethings.”

  The Viking snorted and sat down, tossing Sebastian a loaf of bread he took from one of the other men. “Things not to be spoken of out loud, certainly. I know the Highlanders. What ill do you think may befall the Mackay?”

  Sebastian took a bite of the bread, accepting the silent offering as intended, good will toward another warrior. He chewed it slowly, taking his time to answer. After a moment he continued, glancing at the other Vikings, then focusing on Olaf. “Whatever it is, I will do what I must to prevent harm to any of my clan.”

  Olaf smiled. “Truth be said, Highlander, I would not like to find any Mackay as my enemy. A meeting has been planned here within a few days, if the messenger sent me speaks truly.” Olaf leaned forward, planting his blade between Sebastian’s feet. “If it means harm to any Mackay, you have my word I will do what I can to prevent it.”

  Sebastian grasped the knife and pulled it free. “Maybe I can do one better. Let me stay with you, disguised as one of your men,” he paused as the Vikings around him laughed, chuckling at the notion, but then quieted at the glance from both Olaf and Sebastian. “I’ll fit in, trust me.” He handed the knife, hilt first, to Olaf. “If I need to step in I will, and you will not be accounted any harm.”

  Olaf snorted in amusement. “So you hope, Sebastian Mackay. I will agree to this, if only for the amusement of my men as we wait. But know this, I do not do this freely. Whatever Sutherland offers, you will double it.”

  Sebastian stared at Olaf, his heart constricted suddenly with pain at the confirmation of his worst fears. “Sutherland!”

  The Viking nodded, a small smile curving his mouth. “Aye. And the payment?”

  Sebastian held out his hand, clasping Olaf’s wrist tightly. “Agreed.”

  ***

  Mary shivered in the wind as they crested a step hill, coming abruptly over the top to find the northern coastline spread out before them in an icy landscape of snow and grey choppy water. Sutherland paused, shading his eyes with a hand, staring out to the sea.

  Fiona coughed and leaned toward Mary. “T’will not be long now, lass.”

  Mary nodded faintly, glancing warily at the Earl, but he was focused on whatever he was looking for, his men shifting impatiently on their horses. None took notice of the women or their brief conversation. Finally one of the men moved forward, pointing at the coast line to their left.

  “Smoke, my lord. Someone has a fire there.”

  Sutherland grinned at Mary and Fiona. He drew back, forcing his horse between them. “A few more days, my pretties. Be sure to look your best. I’ll be sure to note the bonus I’ll have to offer as well.” He leaned closer to Mary, gripping her arm to jerk her toward him. “Any word of the babe, mistress and I’ll slit your throat right there.”

  Mary pulled free, leaning as far from Sutherland as she could. “I’ll not say a word. How long have ye known?”

  He looked at her intently. “For some time. Your cheeks are a bloom with it, your eyes.” He shook his head, grunting sourly. “I’ll not know if it will hinder my bargain or not, so you will keep silent.” He drew out a dagger from his boot, brandishing it in front of Mary. “One word, or sound, and you die, along with the brat.”

  She nodded soundlessly, holding her cloak tight around her throat.

  The Earl kicked his horse forward, leading them down the steep incline toward shore. Picking their way along the beach took enough time Mary had a chance to study their surroundings, noting with dismay there would be little chance for escape. High banks swept up from the beach, icy with snow and providing little if any footing to gain the top. Chunks of ice and rocks littered the shoreline making it difficult for the horses to find a path. She or Fiona would have an even harder time, and with the babe, no chance at all.

  It all seemed so dismal, with no sight at all of any Mackay. Would Sutherland have his way, leaving them to die, however he planned, with no interference at all from the Mackay, or even sadly, her own clan or Fiona’s? The Earl’s plan had been masterful, well designed and she nearly wept at the thought of not seeing Nicholas one more time.

  Fiona gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly in comfort. They did not speak, dropping their hands quickly. Faith, they must keep up hope until the end.

  Rounding a sharp bend hidden almost to the waterline by a jutting crag of rock brought them to the camp and the fire. Men slowly stood from where they sat, garbed in fur and boiled leather armo
r, hair tangled and braided, faces hidden by beards and tattoos. Mary inhaled a terrified breath, all thought of hope dying as she looked at the men, knowing what they were, and from her own past, how terrible they could be. Vikings.

  Fiona glanced at her, eyes wide with horror.

  Sutherland dismounted and strode arrogantly toward the men, cloak ruffling in the wind off the shore. None moved to meet him until he was nearly among them, then one stepped forward, taller than the rest, with dirty blond hair and an iron band circling his forehead. The Earl held out his hand but the Viking ignored it, gesturing at the two women. He spoke well, his words accented heavily with the nordic resonance.

  “Women, Sutherland?”

  The Earl looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Indeed. Powerful women, worth much on any market. Beautiful, hardy, and with spirit as yet to break.” He grinned and folded his arms over his chest.

  The Viking moved past Sutherland, striding across the snow in a long legged gait that ate the distance all too quickly. Mary tried not to recoil when he caught her wrist to drag her closer.

  He had striking blue eyes. He stared at her intently, taking in her hair, her clothes, shifting her hand in his grasp to look at her palms. “Soft, yet not so terribly you don’t know work.” He gripped a lock of her hair, twining the strands around his fingers. His men moved in behind him, curious.

  Mary clenched her teeth, refusing to speak, using only her eyes to show her disdain.

  The Viking grinned, leaning forward to kiss the strands of her hair. “A fine sight, one of our own, if a few generations past. Where do you hail from, woman?”

  Fiona yelped as one of the other Vikings pinched her leg. She slapped his hand, scowling at the man. “She’a a Mackay now. Harm her and ye’ll find the wrath of that clan and much more, fool.”