Highlander Avenged

by Laurin Wittig - Guardians Of The Targe 02 - Highlander Avenged

  MALCOLM OPENED AND closed his right hand, ignoring the pain that ran up his arm, amazed that it was finally strong enough to hold his claymore securely, though it had not been easy to carry it in his hands during the trek from caves to camp. He had been happy to sheathe it when they reached their destination. Jeanette had noticed, but said nothing. What was there to say except that the time had more than come for him to take his leave of the MacAlpins, just as he’d always said he would.

  Before he had fallen in love with Jeanette.

  He looked over at his angel as she talked quietly with Rowan and Nicholas. Jeanette had been magnificent as she channeled the power of the stone. Malcolm had felt her joy as she took up the task, the duty, she had been trained for all her life. It was not unlike the way he had always imagined he would feel when he became chief of his clan: strong, sure, and doing what he was meant to do.

  The way he felt in battle. The way he felt with Jeanette.

  Doubt tried to pry its way into his thoughts but he would not allow it. Jeanette had her duty, and it was so clear that being a Guardian was what she was meant to do. He would never ask her to give that up.

  Just as she had not asked him to renounce his duty.

  He hated that he could not see a way for them to be together, and the mere thought of leaving her left him twisted up with fury and agitation. He glared at his hand as he clenched it so tightly that pain sliced up his arm to his shoulder, but he didn’t care. It was time he returned to his place in the king’s army, to his duty as the heir to his father’s position as chief of MacKenzie.

  He understood all too clearly why Jeanette had not been happy when she’d come into her destiny as a Guardian.

  MALCOLM’S FEW BELONGINGS were packed in a travel sack. His claymore was strapped to his back. Now would be the easiest time to leave. Jeanette and Rowan, with Nicholas’s support, needed to figure out how to work together to protect the clan, but there was naught Malcolm could do to help that along. The chief, with Uilliam’s support and counsel, and Kenneth’s when he returned with reinforcements, would find a way to rid themselves of the English—those who were already in their glen and those who were coming. Rowan and Jeanette were powerful and if Jeanette had created a barrier already, then she could do it again to protect the castle. Rowan would help her find a way to help stabilize it and the clan could return to their home.

  He could try to convince King Robert to send men to help the MacAlpins repel the English, though he could not decide if he would prefer to join such a contingent or prefer not to return. He feared if he did return, he might not be able to leave again.

  He feared if he waited longer, he might not be able to leave at all, though honor required that he fulfill his vow to the king and his duty to his clan.

  And yet he would not leave Jeanette when her sister was missing and English soldiers roamed these bens, hunting for Nicholas and Rowan.

  He watched as Jeanette handed Rowan the cup of water, as Nicholas helped his wife to steady it while she drank. The bond between Nicholas and Rowan was strong. Their love for each other was clear in the little touches, the way they looked into each other’s eyes as they spoke, the gentle smile on Nicholas’s face when Rowan insisted on standing.

  An ache set up in Malcolm’s chest. He wanted those things with Jeanette, but that was not to be and the sooner they went their separate ways, the easier it would be for both of them to move on, to do their duties to their clans.

  “Jeanette,” he said quietly when Nicholas folded Rowan into his arms and Jeanette turned away from them. Her eyes were full of worry. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth. He wanted to comfort her, take her cares from her, but he could not. “I need to speak with you.”

  She looked him in the eye and swallowed and he had the sense she knew what he was about to say. He took her hand and led her away from Rowan and Nicholas, but still within sight of them. There were men watching the perimeter of the camp, but he did not want Jeanette out of the reach of Rowan and the Targe should anything happen.

  When he stopped, he pulled her into his embrace, rested his cheek against her soft, flaxen hair, and inhaled, pulling the sweet scent of her deep inside him. They stood there for long moments. Never had words been so hard to find.

  “You are going,” she said, saving him from saying it.

  “Not until we find Scotia and discover exactly what the English threat is. But aye, as soon as those are accomplished, I will leave. ’Tis time.”

  “Your hand and arm still need time to return to full strength. Another fortnight, maybe more.”

  He wished with all his heart he could justify lingering here, but he knew it would only hurt both of them more when the time came and he had to leave anyway. “The healing is done. It is up to me now to make them strong again.” He pulled her away and looked into her eyes. “You have your duty and ’tis very clear you will be brilliant at it. I have my duty, too.”

  “Will you go home?”

  “I need to send word to my father that I am not dead. I need to make sure he kens that, but I must return to the king’s army. I gave my vow I would fight in his army against the English for the freedom of Scotland.”

  Her lips formed a tight line and she blinked quickly. “I understand.” She pressed her palm to his chest but did not meet his gaze. “We both have a duty we cannot shirk.”

  “If there were any way to stay with you, I would, angel. You ken that, aye?”

  She looked up at him. Her clear blue eyes held sadness so deep, he could lose himself in it, and it pained him that he was the cause of yet more grief in her life. “I understand,” she said. “I have not discovered a way for us to be together, either.”

  “I will go as soon as possible, angel. I do not want to bring you any more pain than I already have.” He bent to kiss her when a commotion from the far side of the campsite caught their attention.

  Jeanette whirled in his arms and raced across the camp. “Scotia?”

  Malcolm quickly followed her back toward Rowan and Nicholas just as Uilliam burst out of the trees, a bloodied body in his arms.

  “Nay!” Rowan and Jeanette said simultaneously. Malcolm grabbed Jeanette’s arm to keep her by him as Uilliam slowed and approached them. Nicholas did the same with Rowan.

  “ ’Tis not Scotia,” Uilliam said as he came to a stop. “ ’Tis Myles, slaughtered like an animal by those bastard English with this.” He nodded to the dagger that lay now upon Myles’s chest.

  “Scotia claimed that dagger. You did not find my sister?” Jeanette asked.

  “Nay. Duncan believes she was taken by the English. He has continued tracking them. Please, God, he finds them this time.”

  “Duncan is alone? He did not take the other watchers from the castle?” Nicholas asked.

  “Duncan did not want to take the time. He is beside himself with worry for what may befall the lass.” He looked down at Myles but they all knew death was just one thing that might befall Scotia. “The lad blames himself for not getting back to camp in time to stop her.”

  “He cannot blame himself for that,” Jeanette said. “He did not ken she was in trouble until I saw it. If anyone is to blame, ’tis Scotia. She understands how dangerous these times are.” She rubbed the heel of her hand against her chest in a gesture Malcolm now knew meant she was trying to stop the emotions flooding through her. “She understands.” She looked to Rowan, who nodded at her.

  “Let us not hobble ourselves with blame,” Rowan said quietly as she reached for Jeanette’s hand and squeezed it. “Right now we need to get her back, and Duncan, before he does something equally as rash. He has always considered her his responsibility to protect, ever since they were both weans, though it is beyond my understanding why.”

  Malcolm watched as Jeanette reclaimed her calm and nodded at her cousin. “Well,” she said, looking from Malcolm to Nicholas and back. “H
ow are we going to do that?”

  “We need to join Duncan as quickly as possible, with every man we have,” Nicholas said.

  “We will need to take them all out,” Malcolm added. “We cannot leave a single English soldier standing any longer.”

  “I was hoping Kenneth would return with reinforcements before we had to engage them,” Nicholas said, “but we can wait no longer.”

  “Aye,” Uilliam said. “I do not like that Duncan is alone. I would wrap this body, first. I do not want to leave him exposed to the birds and beasts of the forest. I could not look his mum in the eye ever again if I did.”

  Jeanette grabbed a plaid someone had folded carefully and placed by a nearby tree. Rowan helped her spread it on the ground and Uilliam laid Myles’s body on it.

  “Do you have any idea how many English there are?” Rowan asked as she and Jeanette quickly wrapped the body in the grey and brown plaid.

  “Duncan says there were three there today.” Uilliam pulled on his black beard as he watched the women at their sad task.

  “We saw six near the shieling a few days ago,” Malcolm said.

  “And we saw at least a dozen just this morning when I dropped the trees around them.” Rowan tucked an end of the plaid tightly into a fold, then stood. “Was that all of them, or are there more?”

  Malcolm knew one never had a sure count of the enemy when entering into battle, but he also knew the better the count, the better the plan of attack.

  “Angel, you saw this,” he said to Jeanette. “Did you have any sense of how many English were holding Scotia?”

  Jeanette looked up at him from where she crouched as she tucked the last end of the plaid about Myles’s body, then her attention turned inward and she closed her eyes. “I remember her at the Story Stone—she was tied there at the base of it. She did not look hurt . . . but I could not see who was with her.” She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. My gift is not as useful as Rowan’s when it comes to battle.” She rose. “Duncan kens I saw her at the Story Stone. Will he go there, or follow the tracks?”

  Malcolm knew what he would do. “I would follow the tracks in the hopes of catching them before they could join the rest of their company. I think Duncan will, too.”

  “Aye,” Uilliam agreed. “ ’Tis what I would do, too, and I trained the lad.”

  “Which means we could head directly for the Story Stone,” Nicholas said. “If we get there before Scotia and her captors, we can backtrack and ambush them.”

  Malcolm stared at the dagger that now lay on the ground next to Jeanette. “It could be a trap,” Malcolm said. “They would not have left that knife behind unless they knew it would mean something to someone specific.”

  Nicholas looked at him. “I agree, but we have to go. Perhaps they think to hold her hostage in exchange for me. I expect there is a large reward offered for my head by King Edward.”

  “But they will also want me,” Rowan said, then she lifted the ermine sack, “and this. They do not know about Jeanette yet, thank the saints.”

  Nicholas gave the shrill whistle that sounded like a hawk, and warriors began to join them from their posts in the wood.

  “We won’t let them have any of us, love. We’ll get her back.”

  “How?” Jeanette asked.

  “We shall have to make a plan when we get there, once we know exactly what we are up against. Duncan will be able to tell us more if he can prevent himself from rushing to Scotia’s aid long enough for us to get there.”

  “I’ve trained him better than that. He will ken what we need to know by the time we get there, I have no doubt.”

  Denis stepped forward from the gathered warriors. “ ’Tis Myles?” he asked, pointing to the wrapped body. “I heard his name. I will be of no use in battle so I will stay and bury the lad.” He looked at Nicholas and Malcolm, the echo of the warrior he must have once been etched on his face, brought to life again by his clenched jaw and snapping eyes. “Bring our lassies back,” he said, “all three of them.”

  Nicholas and Malcolm nodded.

  “Uilliam, fetch the men still watching the castle and bring them with you to the Story Stone,” Nicholas said. “Find us when you get there.”

  Jeanette gave Uilliam’s arm a squeeze as he passed her on his way into the trees, then she grabbed the dagger that had been left in the dirt, the dagger that had killed her mother and Myles. “I do not have a scabbard for this,” she said to Malcolm. “Will you carry it? I suspect Scotia will want it back when we free her.”

  “You would put yourself in danger by going into battle, too?” he asked, not really surprised that she would go with the rest of them, but wishing there was somewhere safe she could stay.

  “I will. I am a Guardian now. It is my duty to protect the clan, though I have not a gift that will be of much use in battle.”

  He saw several men stop and look at Jeanette with surprise painted on their faces, but Malcolm scowled at them, daring them to interrupt, and they wisely kept their questions to themselves.

  “And Scotia is my sister. I’ll not sit by while yet another of my family is threatened by the damned English.” She lifted her chin. “Would you?”

  “Of course not. We will get Scotia safely back amongst her kin,” he said, “and do everything we can to dispatch those who took her.” And then he would leave his heart behind with his angel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JEANETTE WAS ALREADY weary from their day of traveling, first from the caves to the MacAlpins’ camp, and now an hour’s fast walk east across the ben, well past the path where she and Malcolm had first fought the gap-toothed English scout together. Now she, Rowan, and all the warriors they could gather, including Malcolm and Nicholas, headed uphill until they came to the edge of the forest where it opened onto a high mountain meadow. It was nearing sunset when they stopped, just in the cover of the trees, but there was enough light to easily see the ancient Story Stone where it stood near the center of the broad open area atop a hillock. The stone was twice the height of the tallest warrior, and in the dim light they could see a figure bound to it and surrounded by twelve English soldiers.

  “I did not see the soldiers in my visions,” Jeanette whispered to Malcolm and Nicholas. How could she trust what she saw in the visions if something so important was kept from her?

  A quick search turned up Duncan, keeping watch over Scotia from the thick branches of an ancient Scots pine tree.

  “Have you had any contact with them?” Nicholas asked Duncan as he joined them on the ground.

  “Nay. Scotia was already bound to the stone when I finally tracked them here. I think they must have knocked her out to bring her here, for she was silent and still, her head hanging for the longest time. She is awake now and goads them every now and then.” He shook his head slowly. “Daft lassie,” he said quietly. With a sigh, he continued, “They have been standing in that circle around her since I arrived here.”

  “So the dagger was a message,” Rowan said.

  “Aye,” Duncan replied.

  “My kinsmen will never give you Nicholas and Rowan for me!” Scotia’s shrill voice, loud even from a distance, startled them all.

  Duncan raced for the forest’s edge with Nicholas, Rowan, Jeanette, and Malcolm on his heels.

  “She is taunting them again,” Duncan whispered.

  “Aye, and giving us information.” Nicholas smiled, though his eyes did not. “Do you think she kens we are here?” he asked Duncan.

  “I cannot say. ’Tis not the first time she has shouted at them since I have arrived.”

  “What else has she said?” Malcolm asked.

  “She said, ‘There are only five warriors left of my kin but they are strong and will rip out your hearts.’ ”

  “Bloodthirsty wench.” Nicholas shook his head. “I doubt they believe her, about our numbers or th
eir hearts, but perhaps she plants doubts in their minds about how many we really are.”

  They carefully slipped back to where their warriors were gathered in the thicker trees away from the edge of the meadow, arriving just as Uilliam and three more warriors joined the gathering, bringing their total to thirteen, plus Jeanette and Rowan.

  Nicholas and Uilliam quickly sent men out to keep watch over the meadow and Scotia, then turned their attention to a plan of attack.

  “How many English have you seen?” Nicholas asked Duncan.

  “Just the twelve that are surrounding the stone. If we attack after dark, we will be able to surprise them.”

  “The moon will not rise until late tonight,” Malcolm said. “We will have no light once the sun sets. We either go soon, or wait for the moonrise.”

  Jeanette looked at Rowan. “What can we do, Cousin?”

  “We?” Uilliam was looking at her like she had sprouted wings.

  “Jeanette is also a Guardian now,” Malcolm said, taking her hand in his. There was pride in his voice that warmed her.

  “Is this true, Rowan?” Uilliam asked.

  “Of course ’tis true,” Jeanette said, relishing the spurt of irritation that Uilliam’s doubt sparked in her, letting it damp down the fear and worry that filled her, if only for a moment.

  Uilliam looked from her to Rowan, to Nicholas, and back to Jeanette. “My apologies, Jeanette. ’Tis only that I have never heard such a thing was possible. When? How?” He shook his head. “Nay, that will keep for later. What is your gift?” he asked. “That is the important question.”

  “Visions . . . and I can build a barrier, like Mum did, with Rowan’s help”—though it brought pain to Rowan, but she did not say that—“but I cannot hold it yet.”