Lords of the Isles

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “I’ll take care of my lady,” Aaron said.

  And he didn’t intend for it to be said as an address of respect. ’Twas very clear to Macrath that the warrior was claiming ownership.

  Macrath smiled. “I reckon the lass can take care of herself.”

  Ceana tried to hide her smile, but he saw it, if only for a second.

  But the time for sparring was quickly taken over by the race to get under the gate. Though they would all be battling on the same team, that didn’t stop the madness of the games from causing aggression in some of the entrants. Winners and discontents alike would fight side by side.

  Dozens of running footfalls on the wooden bridge thumped, and the weight of them all running made the wood appear to bounce beneath their feet.

  Macrath made a point to run slower knowing that Ceana wouldn’t be able to keep up with his longer stride—especially with a wounded leg. The moment he noticed her falter, he turned mid-stride and lifted her into his arms, one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

  “As I said, we are a team.” Macrath made sure he said the words low enough that Aaron couldn’t overhear.

  But even still, Aaron bumped into him several times, and he was certain it was on purpose, angry that Macrath had lifted Ceana. Angry that he’d taken that from him. Macrath had the distinct impression that this man was dangerous. And to Ceana. Jealousy bred evil. Even with his affection toward the lass, he was willing to hurt her to get to Macrath.

  The horsemen disappeared into the woods, trailed by dozens of warriors. The light of their torches disappeared with them, leaving the men and women with only the moon and stars to light their path, and prayers to the gods that they didn’t step the wrong way. More than once, Macrath felt the edge of his foot hit a rabbit or fox hole, an uneven ridge in the ground. But he’d run enough in the dark—away from his stepmother’s henchmen, his brother’s drunken friends and the demons that haunted him, to power through it, and keep his balance.

  Moments later they were barreling into the forest. He held up his arm to block branches that were snapping back into everyone’s faces by those who forged ahead of them; he didn’t want them to hit Ceana. She’d already suffered enough for one day.

  Forgetting his jealousy for the moment, it appeared, Aaron stepped in front of Macrath to hack at the branches with his sword. ’Haps feeling guilty for having almost caused his mistress more pain.

  But the branches soon disappeared as they came to a well-trodden road. Twin yellow lights floated in the distance, and appeared to be at a standstill. They weren’t that far back from the horsemen—and their fate.

  “We’re almost there,” Macrath said.

  “You can put me down. I don’t want to wear on your strength before the game begins.”

  “Och, lass, you are light as a feather.”

  They could here shouts ahead as the guards ordered the women inside the croft. The clearing came into view. Macrath took in what he could make of the small building. Built of stone, the croft had a single wooden door which was flanked by two very small windows. Perhaps big enough for Ceana to climb through, but not wide enough for him, nor a man of average size. A thatched roof was damp from the rain in the parts that weren’t protected by the overhanging trees.

  “I will protect the women, Macrath,” Ceana said. “When our clan was raided, before I was laird, that is what I did.”

  “They should have allowed the women weapons.” He frowned.

  “They do not want the women to help you. They want us helpless. They intend to lessen our numbers further.”

  “How will you protect them?”

  Ceana smiled. “With our wit.”

  He set her on her feet, wished he could kiss her, but settled for a squeeze of the hand. “I shall see you soon.”

  “Indeed, warrior, I will count on it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ceana reluctantly left the safety of Macrath’s arms. She wished him and Aaron luck before joining the women as they were bustled into the croft. Staying near the center of the line, she avoided the two guards—partially relieved she didn’t recognize either of them as having been in her tent.

  Inside the croft, several sconces held tallow candles, dripping wax down the wooden walls where it cooled in brownish-yellow streaks.

  When the last of the women were inside, the guards shut the door, blocking the outside world from their view. Several dull thuds against the wood door set Ceana’s nerves on alert. She lifted the iron handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. They’d barred it from the outside.

  “They’ve trapped us!” a woman shouted, which only caused mass panic among the other women.

  Ceana turned and watched in amazement as alarm passed through the throng of women in a wave. They shoved her out of the way, and she caught herself against the wall, wincing at the pain of her jostled wounds. The frightened women pounded on the door, the walls. A couple tried to squeeze unsuccessfully through the tiny windows, falling on their arses in the process.

  She was not unused to panic, having dealt with her clan women any number of times. But, she was surprised at the women within the croft. This was all part of the games. Along the sides of the sparse and unfurnished croft were several other female entrants watching with dubious gazes.

  “Lassies!” she called out, but still no one would listen.

  She-muscle bumped up beside her, looking completely calm. “They’ve lost their bloody minds,” she grumbled.

  And they’d lose a whole lot more if the guards decided to settle them afore they could settle themselves.

  “Lift me up,” Ceana said.

  She-muscle raised a questioning brow.

  Ceana pressed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Trust me. If I don’t get these women under control, they won’t last through the night—or however long this game takes.”

  “All right. Come here.” She-muscle bent down and hoisted Ceana up so she sat on her right shoulder facing the trapped women.

  “What is your name?” Ceana asked from atop her perch.

  She-muscle gazed up at her and smiled. “Judith. And I gather you’re not Bitch?”

  Ceana laughed. “To most, no. My name is Ceana.”

  “Well, go on with it then,” Judith said. She let out an ear-piercing whistle which had the desired effect of silencing the growing panic.

  “Lassies!” Ceana shouted. “We are not trapped.” Immediately, they went in on how the door was barred, but she cut them off. “Indeed, they’ve locked us in, but it is only part of the game. Did you not listen? This is the men’s game. They are tasked with protecting the croft, protecting us. In order for them to do that, we must remain inside. We cannot be in the way of whatever the council has decided to throw at them. And indeed, why would we want to? We’ve fought already today. Let us rest inside the safety of these croft walls. If we panic, we are only going to distract the men. If they are distracted, they will lose. Then, there is no telling what will happen to us. We must be silent. We must help.”

  They murmured amongst themselves, nodding.

  Judith patted Ceana’s leg. “You’ve got the right of it, lassie.”

  “You can put me down. I think they’re calm enough to listen to reason now.”

  Once Judith set her down, Ceana spoke to the women again. “We need to form a plan. While this might be the men’s fight, we must keep order for ourselves.” She pointed at the two small windows. “With those windows, we can keep watch.”

  “But what if an arrow flies in?” someone shouted.

  “We’ll keep the shutters closed, and the woman who is on duty will chance a look every quarter hour.”

  “Who will decide who keeps watch?”

  “We all will,” Ceana answered.

  Several outraged cries sounded from the back of the small croft as one particularly angry looking female shouldered her way forward. “Who made you
our leader?” she challenged.

  Ceana was ready for such animosity. Was surprised it took as long as it did. With a bunch of frightened women intent on winning a single spot to rule, it was a given. “No one made me our leader. But Judith and I were the only ones who stood up to the chaos.”

  The woman didn’t have an answer to that, simply nodded. Then she turned to the other entrants, her back to Ceana. “I say we do make her the leader for today. Once we leave the croft, however, she will have no power.” She turned back around, her hard eyes narrowed. “Leaders are the first to die should we be invaded.”

  Ceana would have to keep a close eye on the woman. She’d not realized until that moment that she’d made an enemy—though she supposed in hindsight she should have. Every woman in here was her enemy. Even Judith should be, but she wasn’t. They’d seemed to have bonded ever since the first day she’d met her outside the women’s wrestling tent.

  “So are cowards,” Ceana replied, keeping her spine stiff and staring the woman straight in the eye.

  Her lip curled. “What are you saying?”

  Ceana shrugged nonchalantly. “Simply stating a fact.”

  “Don’t go threatening, the Bitch,” Judith said. “There’s a reason she’s got the name. Let us get ourselves in order before the game begins.”

  Too late. The horn blew outside, and moments later the men began shouting.

  “It has begun,” Ceana said. “I will take first watch.”

  “As will I,” said Judith.

  Ceana hurried to one of the small windows and cracked open the shutters. Outside, it was not yet complete chaos. The men looked to surround the front of the croft in a half circle, their backs to the women, prepared to face the enemy head on.

  “What is happening?” asked a woman.

  A band of at least six men, who could almost be classified as giants, burst from the woods, brandishing swords, maces and battleaxes. Their faces were painted a glowing white in the torch light and they shouted war cries. They were easily a head taller than Macrath, and wore tattered breeches and shirts—no plaids. Their hair was long and matted.

  “They are being attacked by a bunch of limp-willies,” Judith said.

  Ceana smirked. Hardly. If she’d seen the band of brigands chasing her, she might have fainted.

  The men took the attack in stride. Standing closer together, shields up, they issued a battle cry that shook the roof of the croft.

  “The men are holding strong,” Ceana said.

  The giants were relentless in their attack. But so were the men. They had more to live for. They’d been put into the games for a purpose. They fought not only for life, but the chance to rule Sìtheil. There was something to be said about having more to live for then your next breath. They kept their shields up, blocking blows, and then retaliating with their own weapons.

  She marveled at Macrath’s strength, holding her breath as he swung his claymore in an arc toward the head of one giant. The giant blocked with the handle of his ax and used his weight to push against Macrath. But her man was strong. He braced his feet and gave a mighty shove, knocking the giant to the ground. Several of the men pounced, and Macrath turned to take on the next giant, leaving the fallen one to his men. Seemed as though, he too, had taken a leadership role.

  She searched for Aaron, and saw him blocking repeated blows from a mace, but was saved when the leader of the giants shouted for retreat.

  “They are leaving,” Ceana mused. “But there will be more. I’m certain of it.”

  The men were not given long to catch their breath before a group of four demons rode in on horseback, swinging heavy iron spiked maces at the heads of the warriors. They were dressed in all black—even black hoods covered their faces. Their horses wore metal armor on their faces, chests and forelegs.

  The demon’s weapons connected, shattering through the simple wooden shields and crushing four skulls. One of the demons was set upon by warriors, yanked from his horse and hacked to death. The other three took out three more warriors—one crawled away, mortally injured, the other two lay dead.

  Ceana sat in silence, horror filling her. It was brutal. A massacre. This was no game. But a thinning of the ranks in the worst possible way.

  But even the three demons that still attacked were not safe. The men charged, slicing and cutting. One demon was able to escape, riding his horse back into the woods. The warriors took hold of the three horses left and mounted—Macrath one of them. They had a subtle advantage now.

  Macrath stared at the croft, and she felt like his eyes connected with hers. Pride swelled in her chest. She wanted to shout out to him. But kept her words of encouragement to herself. She didn’t want to distract him any more than she already was. He turned his gaze back to the warriors.

  “Men!” he shouted, taking the lead. “Stand your ground. Return to your lines!”

  Unlike the women with Ceana, the men were happy to follow Macrath’s orders. He exuded power and strength of will. They pressed together in a line behind him, shields up, weapons ready. The men on horseback stood before the men on foot.

  Her heart pounded, breath ceased as she waited countless seconds for the next enemy to attack.

  The giants returned, but they did not charge. Instead they stood on the edge of the forest shouting insults at the warriors. Between them, two small trebuchets were pushed from beyond the trees. Thick fat rocks filled wooden baskets.

  “To the back of the croft!” Ceana bellowed.

  The women did not utter one word of argument. Ceana slammed the shutter closed and rushed to the back wall, squeezing herself in with the women there. “Get down. Cover your heads.”

  Judith landed beside her, and they all crouched low, hands over their heads.

  Outside the men shouted. She heard Macrath’s voice carry above the others. “Trebuchet! Shields up! Women be prepared!”

  He’d thought to warn them. But she didn’t have long to admire at his concern. The sound of cranking along with Macrath’s bellow of, “Incoming!” was enough of a warning for the women to brace themselves. But the stone did not hit the croft. The ground rumbled with its impact, and a scream that tore from one man’s throat made her dizzy with terror.

  “Again!” Macrath shouted, and the ground rumbled once more.

  A dull thud sounded against the wall by the door.

  “What was that?” Judith asked.

  “Maybe a stone rolled into it?” Ceana asked, taking the time to look at her friend. She prayed it wasn’t a body—or worse, a limb.

  “ ’Haps.”

  Outside, the warnings for incoming stones sounded several more times, and each time it was followed by either a cry of agony or taunts to the giants for failing in their aim.

  “Remain calm, lassies,” Ceana urged. “They cannot have too many stones left. The men are strong. They will keep us safe. Pray to the gods they keep us safe and that not too many of the men are lost.”

  “How are you so calm?” Judith asked.

  She feared her senses to violence had been dulled. “Our clan was ambushed often. ’Twas my duty to protect the women and children.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “What of you, Judith? What did you do for your clan?”

  Judith smiled as the wall shook with a little more violence than before. “Because of my size, my father didn’t feel I belonged inside embroidering with my dainty sisters. Nor did he want me on the list field with my brothers. So, I was sent to the hills. He named me a shepherd.”

  “A shepherd?”

  “Aye,” she laughed. “Can handle a wolf just fine on my own.”

  Ceana smiled, but it was cut short when she heard the men shout. “Fire arrows!”

  Without hesitating, she left her spot huddled with the women and went to the shuttered window. Sure enough, standing on the edge of the woods, the giants and trebuchets had been replaced by a line of archers, the tips of their arrows ablaze.

  With her lips in a grim line, Ceana faced t
he women. “Be prepared for flames. We’re lucky that it rained. Hopefully the thatch is wet enough to keep the flames doused, but there are certain to be parts that are dry.” She turned to Judith. “Lift me up again.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to climb out the window and take the bar off the door.”

  Judith blanched. “What?”

  “If they shoot the arrows at the croft’s roof, or even the walls, and it catches fire, we’ll need to escape. We cannot be made to perish.”

  She nodded, but to be sure that she was not alone, Ceana spoke to the women. “I am going to go out the window and remove the bar on the door. Will you remain inside while it’s still safe? We cannot allow our own panic to distract the men.”

  Silently, the women nodded, eyes wide as they stared at Ceana.

  Ceana nodded at Judith.

  “Be careful, Ceana of MacRae. You’ll be unprotected should an arrow…”

  She took a deep breath. “Aye, but danger is part of this game, and though I can fit through the window, not everyone will be able to. I have to do my part.”

  “I’ll help you.” ’Twas the woman she’d fought with by the barrels. The one who’d gotten her whipped by Beatrice. She should be angry, yet, Ceana had been given a new gown and a strip of her mother’s plaid for it. “I owe you that much for getting you lashed.”

  “I’ll lift you.” The woman, who’d argued when Ceana first took the lead, stepped forward to lift the smaller woman.

  “Let us go at the same time, else one of us will be waiting unprotected outside of the croft,” Ceana said.

  Once both of the women were situated at their windows, Ceana glanced out. Fiery arrows lit up the night. A few had made their mark in men’s shields and bodies, but the majority lit up the ground, catching the slightest dry leaves and twigs on fire. Judith counted to three and then they were both hoisted.

  She gripped onto the top of the window edge and used her strength to put first one leg and then the other through the window. Her injury throbbed, but she pushed the pain away from her mind. She held her breath, intent only to concentrate on making it through the window unscathed. Judith kept a hand on her back as she slid through, suspended in mid-air for a split second before her feet hit the ground with a bone-jarring crash.