Drew_A Historical Scottish Romance Novel_Highlanders Warriors Clan McClair

by Barbara Bard

  * * *

  Then another noise approached. It sounded like the far-off rumbling of thunder, but there were no storm clouds in the sky. The army bristled and there were cries of warning as the enemy approached. Sarah peered into the distance and saw a huge black mass of bodies storming forward, like an onrushing earthquake.

  * * *

  The air was pierced by their loud screams, and the steel of their swords flashed as they reflected the sun. The sound of a bugle droned nearby, and then the English army charged as well.

  * * *

  Horses kicked up mud, men drew weapons, Sarah held her breath. The battle had begun.

  12

  Drew roared as he and Blair charged forward, flanked by their most fearsome and formidable warriors. The English army could be seen across the field, dressed in bright red tunics, standing out against the green of the field. Drew's heart thumped in his chest. Battle drew near. With every stride of his horse he was closer to the war when steel would clash against steel and make a fine song, a song that would ring out across the land.

  * * *

  Being this close to this heated atmosphere made everything else fade into obsolescence. The troubles with Deirdre, Blair, and Rosemary didn't mean a thing. All that mattered was defeating the English and defending their home, and getting justice for Gall. When they left this battlefield it would be covered with English bodies.

  * * *

  Looking over at his brother, he saw Blair relishing the act of going to war. This is what he had been born for. All his life he had been a warrior, but he had not been able to indulge that aspect of himself because there had been no war. Now there was, and he saw Blair in the prime of his life, a perfect warrior suited for exactly this situation. He was holding his sword tightly, high in the air, bringing it down, ordering the archers to fire.

  * * *

  Suddenly a shadow loomed over them as hundreds of arrows soared through the air. Each of them rising high, touching the heavens, only to come back down with force and break through the English lines. Many men were felled. Some horses too, and the air was loud with their anguished cries. But still more English came, and they fired back arrows of their own. Drew felt them fly past him, hitting his fellow warriors.

  * * *

  He looked around, but did not let his gaze linger on the fallen for too long. Urging his steed on, he and Blair raced forward to meet the English head-on. They ate up the ground between them and soon his sword met the enemy. The song of steel rang out and Drew was in the heat of battle. All else was driven from his mind, everything except the man before him. Drew met his blade and parried back with a thrust of his own. In just a few strokes Drew had driven his sword into the man's gut. He slumped over his horse, and the horse ran away.

  * * *

  “Ye are doing well, brother!” Blair called out.

  * * *

  Drew grinned, and moved further into the battle.

  * * *

  Entrails hung off the edge of his blade, but there was no time to clean it. Other Englishmen were already upon him. The haze of blood and guts rose up. The air was thick with the smell of fear and death. Already countless men had died, but it was only the beginning.

  * * *

  A few men approached him, trying to make him fall from his horse. Drew caught their blades with his and used his strength to push them back. Quickly, he slashed through the air and caught one of them in the throat. His sword fell to the ground as he clutched at his throat in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood, but the crimson liquid squirted out.

  * * *

  Drew barely had any time to pity the man as the other soldier was still above him, crashing his sword down. With one hand on the reins, Drew pulled his horse around to meet the blows, thrusting back whenever he could. This solder was more skilled than the others he had slain, but he still wasn't good enough to best Drew. With a quick flick of the wrist Drew slashed at the man's chest, and then stabbed him in the heart.

  * * *

  Blood dripped down.

  * * *

  There was no shortage of enemies to face. Red tunics were all around him, and Drew reveled in the battle. He roared mightily, losing all sense of time and space. There was nothing but he and his blade, and the Englishmen who would all suffer because of them.

  * * *

  The two armies merged together, bodies and swords clashing. Many men alighted from their horses and were fighting on the ground. Drew charged around them, slicing off their heads as he went. English soldiers dropped easily. Occasionally there was another barrage of arrows. Drew could not tell whether they were from the Highlanders or the English.

  * * *

  He'd lost track of Blair as well. In a moment of respite Drew looked across the battlefield for him, but could not see him. He could not see Declan either. There were thousands of bodies strewn across the field, and it would be unlikely that he would find his brother any time soon.

  * * *

  Drew lifted his sword and fell back into the fight, galloping through the English army, causing as much death and destruction as possible. Although Blair had always held more of the warrior's spirit within his heart, Drew had a deep-seated rage brewing inside him as well, and now he finally let it out. The anger burst out in primal bellows. Rage clouded his mind, and one by one he cut down the English who came before him.

  * * *

  But this rage came at a price.

  * * *

  Drew gave himself so fully to the rage inside him that he lost some of his sense of perception. There were so many bodies hurtling past him that the world became something of a blur. It was as though he and his sword were one; the blade merely an extension of his arm. He swerved and dodged, parried and struck truly. Nobody could stand in his way, and he stood tall among all the Highlanders and Englishmen. He welcomed more soldiers coming to him, ready to send them all to their graves.

  * * *

  Then there was a lancing pain through his leg. He cried out, and only just managed to hold onto his sword. His head throbbed and his heart beat frantically. Looking down, he saw that a javelin stuck out from his leg. He had been so focused on what was in front of him that he hadn't paid enough attention to everything around him. Then again, it was almost impossible to keep track of everything on the battlefield since there was danger from all sides.

  * * *

  Drew managed to fend off another attack, but then he had to reach down to try and pull the javelin from his flesh. The pain was excruciating. Drew gritted his teeth as he tried to bear it, but the javelin was just a little too low for him to be able to pull it out.

  * * *

  Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword to give himself better purchase, and turned his horse away from the onrushing English soldiers to try and give himself a few moments of respite.

  * * *

  Drew managed to reach down and feel the warm blood that was seeping out of the wound. He wrapped his fingers around the thick wooden javelin and started to pull, a guttural scream bursting from his lungs as he did so, when he looked up to see a huge hulking man thundering towards him. The man was unarmed, but his fists were like clubs, and he smacked Drew in the jaw as he passed. Fueled by the momentum of the horse, the strike was even more powerful than it would have been had the men been standing, and Drew slumped over his horse, giving into the encroaching darkness.

  * * *

  His fingers loosened and were unable to pull the javelin. The horse rode away from battle. Without Drew to guide it, the steed listened to its own instincts, and took Drew away from the fighting.

  13

  Everything was utter chaos. Sarah didn't know what she was supposed to do. The air was thick with arrows, and before her she saw hundreds of men die before the battle had even begun. All of them had sought glory, but only a few of them would actually attain it.

  * * *

  The Highlanders screamed like monsters as they raged into battle. The English met them and the air was alive with the so
unds of clashing swords. Sarah winced, and turned her head away, but just as when she had been young she could not close her ears, and had to listen to the horrors of war.

  * * *

  Medics ran forward to aid the men who had been wounded by arrows, while the battle raged in the middle of the field. Sarah forced herself to watch, looking at all the men who were losing their lives. In a way it was poetic, because although there were two opposing sides they were both the same. Both sides were losing men at an alarming rate.

  * * *

  Catherine stood beside Sarah. Sarah felt Catherine's hand slip inside hers and squeezed.

  * * *

  “Is this what you expected?” Sarah asked.

  * * *

  Catherine remained silent for a few moments.

  * * *

  “I never expected it to be so loud,” she said eventually.

  * * *

  The two girls stayed there for a time, watching the battle unfold. The two armies clashed. The red of the English merged with the brown and black cloaks of the Highlanders. Soldiers from each side fell to the ground, horses whinnied and ran off in a panic. Everywhere there were terrible cries of pain and fear. Sarah closed her eyes and was taken back to that time when she was a child, hearing her parents being killed. It was almost too much to bear.

  * * *

  Indeed, it proved too much for Catherine, who turned away and retreated into the carriage. It was evidently worse than she had imagined, but perhaps it was better that she be faced with the reality of war. Maybe it would make her less naive, or give her a better understanding of the world. Sarah thought about going to talk to her, about being a friend, but she realized that this was her moment.

  * * *

  The people around her were focused on the battle. Medics were running through the battlefield, tending to those who had fallen. In some ways those men were even braver than the soldiers, Sarah thought. Guilt pervaded her soul, for she felt that she should do something to help her countrymen, but then she thought about what would happen to her if she were to stay here when Lord Flynn returned.

  * * *

  Steeling her heart, she turned away and clenched her fists. Taking it one step at a time, she walked away from the carriage, turning her back on the battle. Closing her eyes, she breathed evenly and was such a small figure that nobody took any notice. They were all too fixated on the battle, and on all the men who were dying.

  * * *

  Sarah cut quite an incongruous figure as she was still wearing the dress that had been intended for her wedding. She avoided looking at anyone else as she walked away, afraid that someone would stop her. As she drew closer to the rear of the entourage she was afraid that she would be held back, stopped by one of Lord Flynn's men, but the call never came. Catherine never came out of the carriage to look for her. Nobody seemed to care about her, and soon Sarah found herself wandering free.

  * * *

  As soon as she was far enough away from the army, Sarah hitched up her dress and ran to the edge of the forest. She did not have much of a plan at all, only to get to the shroud of the forest and hide away. She wanted to make her way back to England and find a small village in which to live. She assumed that Lord Flynn would not scour the country for her. He would likely think that she had been taken away by some Highlander.

  * * *

  Sarah tried hard not to cry, for she was forsaking everything she knew. The hardest thing was to leave Catherine, for it felt as though she was betraying a true friend. Catherine had been so kind to her, and had been so looking forward to their lives together that it seemed a shame to have to deny her that. But Sarah could do nothing else. This was her only way to freedom. Her only way to break free from the lie that had weighed so heavily upon her.

  * * *

  Through the woods she walked, leaves and branches being crushed underfoot. Her heart beat frantically and her breaths were sharp. She soon lost track of where she was going. Looking behind her, she could only see the vague outline of the battle, and the noises were like a far-off echo. It was as though she had entered another world, far from the one filled with death and destruction that she had just left.

  * * *

  The trees were like guardians, protecting her from the war. Their wide, thick leaves hung down, shielding her from the outside world. Sunlight occasionally broke through the trees, but the light it cast was green. Sarah sometimes jumped as she heard a rustling, but was always relieved when it was just an animal. She walked as quickly as her legs could carry her, wanting to get as far away from the battle as possible. The sooner she was back on safe ground, the better.

  * * *

  Sarah tried not to think about all she was leaving behind, all those men who were dying on the battlefield. She wondered if this was how Rosemary had felt when she had left on that fateful night.

  * * *

  The chances of her ever seeing Rosemary again were now zero. If Rosemary had been captured by the Highlanders there had been a chance that Lord Flynn would be able to free her when he emerged victorious, but everything was only a possibility. There seemed to be few certainties in her life.

  * * *

  Pushing through the branches, Sarah began to grow tired. She started to tell herself that she should have gathered supplies. She picked some fruits off a tree and enjoyed the juice as it flowed down her cheeks. Nearby was the sound of rushing water, and she suddenly realized how thirsty she was.

  * * *

  Following the sound, she really had no idea in which direction she was going, but all she wanted was to relieve the aching thirst in her throat. When she saw the crystal water she flung herself to the ground and dipped her hands into the water, cupping them together to bring up a handful. She splashed it over her face and opened her mouth, gulping it down. The water was cool and refreshing. She gulped it down heartily, and then lay on her back, facing towards the sun, smiling and laughing.

  * * *

  Free, she was finally free.

  * * *

  It had been such a long time since she had felt anything like this. In fact, she wasn't sure if she had ever felt anything like it. Even though she had enjoyed being Rosemary's handmaiden her fate had still been locked with Rosemary. She had to go where Rosemary went, and there was nothing she could have done about it.

  * * *

  Her entire life had been tethered to Rosemary, but now she was free from those shackles. She could go anywhere she wanted and be anything she wanted to be. It was almost frightening how open the world was to her.

  * * *

  But it was all hers. She was free of Lord Flynn. No longer did she have to worry about being thrown into a dungeon or hanged until the breath slipped away from her body. It was a shame to think about how disappointed Catherine would be, but Catherine was strong and would soon find another person to be friends with.

  * * *

  Sarah would too, in time. She would find a small hamlet in which to live. She could be a cook or a maid in a tavern and live a simple life, far away from a war and far from any kind of danger. It would be a peaceful life, and she couldn't wait for it to begin.

  * * *

  The dress was beginning to cling to her for it was rather warm. She was tempted to strip off and bathe in the refreshing water, but then she wondered if she was far enough from the battle yet. She thought it better to continue moving and increase the distance between herself and the English army, and the Scottish army for that matter. The last thing she wanted was to be captured by them when she was so close to being free.

  * * *

  Then she heard a whinny. She looked up and saw a horse trundling forward. It was huge and black, looking entirely fearsome. Sarah stiffened and crouched down, hoping that the beast wouldn't make any sudden movements.

  * * *

  The horse shook its head and seemed to ignore Sarah. It turned around and bowed its head. A pink tongue shot out and lapped at the water, but that was not what caught Sarah's attention. She gasped as
she saw the man atop the horse, slumped over with a javelin protruding from his thigh. A mass of black hair covered his face. There was no doubt that he was a Highlander, but was he dead?

  * * *

  Sarah looked back towards the site of battle, trying to see if there was anyone else following them, but it seemed as though they were the only two around. She walked up carefully, making sure that each step was slow for she was afraid. This was the closest she had been to a Highlander since that fateful day when her parents had been killed.