by Fiona Faris
“Nae, my laird. I shall be glad tae walk with ye and Merriam. At least, my eyes shall look out for her so I can see tae her good health, too.” Gretchen said and smiled.
Callum smiled back and nodded. Perhaps she never knew what he wanted. He wished he could walk with her alone around the keep. Probably other Lairds that he would invite would see her and have thought about taking her to wife. But bringing his mother to walk with them on that day was reasonable but unnecessary. She was getting better, at least, and she should be able to walk on her own. He thought blindly to himself and quickly caught himself again. He had been overthinking, not that tomorrow was the harvest gathering. She still had some days to change her mind, and if she insisted on his mother walking around with them, he certainly would have no problem. The moon was now fully out and was glaring at the Earth’s surface, providing enough light to see the paths. From a distance, a knock sounded on Callum’s door, and after some time was swung open by a guard.
“My laird! Ye have a scroll sent by the Laird of MacKenzie, delivered by an envoy who still waits outside. He awaits yer audience, my laird!” the guard said, took a bow, and hurried out of the house.
“Finally, Gregory has convinced the Laird to send a scroll,” he said and sprung up from his seat. If there was anything more to think about, he knew it was certainly how to help the MacKenzie tribe. He would need to resume warfare training soon. “The MacLaren dae nae know what comes for them!” he said snarled as he exited the keep to greet the MacKenzie envoy.
* * *
Callum was back in office glaring at the scroll that was handed to him by the envoy of MacKenzie clan. He rolled the scroll open, searched for a burning candle. Finding one, he reached for it and set it on his desk and began to read slowly.
THIS SCROLL WAS SENT BY THE LAIRD OF THE MACKENZIE CLAN TO THE LAIRD OF THE CLAN GLENBOGLE
Greetings to you, Laird of Clan Glenbogle. I humbly write to you to seek your help with your warriors and guards. We, the MacKenzie clan, have received a threatening letter from the ruthless MacLaren. They have promised to wipe out our entire clan, send scrolls with our blood as the ink, take for their lords our maidens, and make slaves our children. The council members have been trembling, and the rumors are currently being spread by their spies in the land. People are fleeing the area, and other clans have refused to make an exchange with us. We will appreciate if this issue can be treated as a matter of urgency. I wish that you kindly note that all your warriors and guards would be greatly cared for as there would be enough food and drinks to last us during the war.
Lastly, the entire clan and I shall appreciate a meeting with you for strategy discussions before the war eventually commences. We will appreciate it if a session can be fixed as soon as possible. We shall be filled with joy to see you in our land as quickly as possible as strategy discussions are essential before the war comes. It should be noted that upon your arrival to the land, there would be guards and wagons stationed at the border to accompany you into the clan. We greatly anticipate your arrival. Please do write to us soon as a sign that this letter has been received. Do have a beautiful day, Laird.
From Laird of Clan MacKenzie
Callum read it, finished, and read again. He flipped over the pages again with his eyes. There seemed to be something fishy about the scroll. The language and the tone were different from the scrolls he had received from the same Laird. He knew wars could make someone humble, but he had known the Laird of the MacKenzie clan to be prideful. The tone of the letter was too demanding, and he knew he wasn’t such a person. He gazed at his shelf where the pile of scrolls was kept and searched for previous scrolls written by the Laird of the MacKenzie clan. He pulled the first one out, took a quick glance, and observed the tone of the letter. It was slightly different from the one he had just received. He pulled another one out and read it. Again, it was different.
“What could have happened?” he asked as he compared and contrasted the letters. “Our spies had refused tae send us a scroll about the war. I sense a play somewhere,” Callum said, still glancing at the scrolls that were scattered on his desk. He could not form a pattern in his head.
“Guards!” he called. Immediately, a guard swung his office door open and hurried in. “Please, dae send fer Sir Gregory. Tell him I seek his presence urgently,” he ordered and waved his hand to the guard, signaling he was done.
“Yes, my laird!” the guard said and hurried out.
After a few minutes, a knock sounded on Callum’s office door. “Yes! Dae come in” Callum said. The door swung open, and the massive figure of Sir Gregory marched in.
“My laird! I received yer order, and I left the training immediately.” Sir Gregory said as he stood a distance away from the door.
“Dae come in, Sir Gregory, and have a seat,” Callum said, shoving his hand toward the empty seat in front of him.
“Gratitude, my laird,” Sir Gregory said and quickly took his seat.
“I sent for ye tae tell ye that an envoy from the MacKenzie clan rode into the keep yesterday and was sent with a scroll from their Laird. I beckoned tae the envoy tae stay fer day, but he declined, stating that the Laird had ordered his immediate return. However, I have just finished reading the scroll, and I would like ye read the scroll, too, and tell tae me what ye observe,” Callum said, searching for the scroll and passing it across his desk to Sir Gregory. Sir Gregory received the scroll with murmured thanks and rolled it open.
He squinted his eyes as he read on and on. When he finished, he glanced at Callum’s face and lowered his eyes to the scroll again. He read it for the umpteenth time and passed it back. “My laird, the tone of the scroll daes nae sound like it’s from the MacKenzie Laird, but the scroll bears the royal seal from the Laird and was delivered by the envoy, as ye have said,” Sir Gregory said, looking a bit flustered as he eased himself backward in the seat.
“Such I observed too. I also noted that none of our spies from the various tribes have notified us about a coming war. None send a scroll about MacLaren preparing for war. We have about fifty of them, at least, in the MacLaren army. Why are they silent?” Callum said, stretching his hands and glancing at Sir Gregory, obviously searching for answers in his face.
“I dae nae know, my laird, but I sense something is wrong. I will suggest we ride secretly tae the MacKenzie tribe. We can select a few veteran warriors and enter their village. There we should know the valid news,” Sir Gregory said.
“That seems a bright idea. Select a few men from the veteran warriors and notify them of our journey. We ride at dawn tomorrow.” Callum said and paused. Shall I have the maids bring tae ye some nice scotch?” Callum asked as he packed the scattered scrolls back into the shelf.
“Nae, my laird. I am full already, and I shall have tae get back tae training immediately and choose the men that will ride with us,” Sir Gregory said and stood from the chair.
“Well then, dae well tae see me tonight sae we plan our movement tomorrow?” Callum resolved, shook Sir Gregory’s hand and watched as he walked out of his office. He heaved a heavy sigh as he glanced at the clouds and noticed the hour was crawling by. His mind wandered off to the journey he would be embarking on tomorrow. He knew he had to be careful and watchful. Laying his head upon his desk, he let his mind drift to the various possibilities, and before long, he slept.
Callum, Sir Gregory, and four veteran warriors were mounted on their horses. He sat there for a moment, glancing at the still-black sky as the distant sound of a rooster announced the coming of the dawn.
“May God be with us as we embark on the journey,” Callum said, and finally, he gave the signal, and he and the other warriors moved out of the Laird’s court, riding for Clan MacKenzie Village.
Chapter Eight
The day was crisp and bright; the sky filled with sunlight that streaked across a backdrop of forested mountains, glimmering crystalline with morning dew. Callum eased his white horse past the row of dark bushes on the northern side of the wall
ringing the village. A twinge of doubt tugged suddenly at him. He was a long way out in the middle of the outskirts of the town, and only Sir Gregory and the other four warriors accompanying him knew exactly where he was. If anything wrong happened to them, he would live all his life with regret as there were too many things he was still obligated to do for his clan.
He thought about the journey for a moment and nurtured a bit of thought at the back of his mind to turn his horse and return to the keep, but the courage in him kept him going. He forced the doubts out of his mind and concentrated on his ride ahead. He pulled the reins of his horse again and rode faster, his other hand on the sword that rested on his belt. Should anything happen, he will fight with all his might.
Sir Dunkin, George, Justine, Owen, Scoffield, Orwell, and Frederick stood around the big table dressed their armor. Justine had his crossbow ready, and hundreds of arrows hung tightly on his back. They had heard about the trip that Laird and a few warriors were embarking on and were now standing at their strategy table to change their plans. The map supplied by George lay open on the table for them all to see. Justine had memorized all the instructions written on the map. He was not to fire any shots unless the last of the warriors had moved into the death zone. After the last warrior had stepped into the death zone, then he would make faster shots and execute them. Should he miss a target, Scoffield would be stationed at another hideout, across the cliff, such that the fleeing target could be fired from his side, and should they both miss, George and Owen would ride out and take down all of them with their swords and axes. Since they knew the Laird wouldn’t be traveling with the army, they had changed their plans of bringing the other group members in.
“This is our moment. It should nae be ruined! Follow the plans strictly, and dae nae go astray. Payment will be made after the mission. Remember, we all have a lot tae gain from this mission! Now gae yer positions! They should be here soon,” Sir Dunkin ordered. He looked around the room, searching for of fear on his warrior’s faces, and seeing none, he smiled and patted them on the back as they all hurriedly left the room. He gripped his sword and marched to his horse. Mounting, he slashed his whip across its rump and rode quickly to his hideout.
It was now afternoon, and the sun was out. Callum and his companions were still riding, and in some minute’s time, they would reach the forest path that would take them to the river road. From there, they could follow the river until they reached the bridge that would take them into the MacKenzie village.
Twenty minutes later, Callum caught sight of fresh tracks made by horses. He wasn’t expecting anyone to have taken this path. It was a secret passage that only he and his top warriors knew about. And there had been no report of one of his warriors seeking permission to travel this way. He was also sure that the envoy sent by the Laird of Clan MacKenzie could not have known the secret either.
Callum pulled his horse up tight, and the animal skidded to a halt, its hooves raising clumps of sod and dirt as it did so. The rest of his party did the same, their horses neighing in protest at the sudden stop. The men dismounted, looking questioningly at their laird who stood at the far side of the roadway.
“Can ye see the horse tracks, too, Sir Gregory?” he asked and bent, scanning the marks made by the unknown horse.
“I can see it too, my laird! I sense someone has been here. The tracks were freshly made,” Sir Gregory said as he bent and eased his horse from the path. The other four warriors also came over to observe the tracks. Now on high alert, all of them scanned the forested slope before them. The only sound that they could hear was from a small stream that ran from the rocks through a series of rapids that flashed silver in the dappled sunlight. The pathway cut through the stream’s bank and disappeared into the trees.
“All my senses say tae me that one evil cannae be so far,” Sir Gregory said and made to pull out his sword.
“Wait!” Callum warned, placing his hand on Sir Gregory’s arm. “I think an ambush must have been planned. This place is good fer the enemy tae hide. The tracks gae beyond here into the cliff. We shall trace the tracks tae where they stop. Our horses shall stay here. Let’s rest for a while, but stay alert,” Callum ordered, taking his hand off Gregory’s arm and moving behind a tree.
Some minutes after, Callum and his guards crept along the pathway that wound in a series of twists and turns along the stream, leveling off at intervals where small branches crossed the footpaths and might cause a fast rider, blinded by the breeze, to stumble off his horse. The stream gurgled and lapped against the earthen banks and over rock falls. The journey to the cliff grew less steep, but the forest closed about on either side, and the pathway became more challenging to discern. Eventually, the tracks branched away to a cliffside that dropped from a great height, and the path ran alone. A mist settled around them. They all stopped and again looked about. There was nothing to see. They brought their ears closer to the trees. There was nothing to hear. But they had the unpleasant sensation of evil somewhere close.
They continued their walk, tracing the tracks through the forest, which deepened as the mist grew thicker. Trees loomed around them, their dark brown trunks appearing as skeletal sentries with their dying leaves and boughs. They had to push silently past the pine and spruce to keep on the trail, although the mist was not helping, its hazy cast lending a gray pall to a morning that had begun with sunshine.
Still, they were careful enough to creep along and never lose focus of the tracks. As they got to a point, they noticed the leaves rustling amid the bush, which stiffened their movement. They gazed in the direction of the sound and discovered that it was just some scurrying rats.
“Tch!” Callum hissed and continued following the tracks with his men. At least he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t think how the journey might have been had he been alone, and how he’d have been a little scared, knowing that somewhere out there, lurked an unknown enemy. He was growing extremely thirsty, but he hadn’t thought to bring along a water container. Why should he need a water container in the first place? He hadn’t thought the journey would be prolonged. He and the others could go back and try the stream water, but he feared he might be caught unawares and ambushed doing so. He also did not to waste any more time, so he turned his thoughts momentarily toward Gretchen to distract himself from his thirst.
He tried to picture Gretchen out here in the woods, trudging with him through the forest and the mist, huffing and panting. He smiled. He remembered Gretchen hated all forms of exercise that involve long distances, water, and vines. He thought of how Gretchen would feel if anything bad happened to him, how she would react if he never came back from the journey and how his mother would cry her eyes out, hoping for him to return someday.
Callum shook his head. He had been overthinking. He was leading a group of four experienced warriors his clan could not afford to lose to somewhere deep in the forest where no one would see their corpses for days. He and the other warriors slowed as the pathway ahead petered out into tall grass. A deep cluster of pine blocked the way forward. He pushed his way through and stopped.
“Ah! See where the tracks have led us?” he whispered.
A towering, rugged cliff rose before him, shrouded in layers of shadow. A cave had been cut through its center, hollowed out as if by a giant warrior’s sword. The cave was dark and empty, a black hole with almost no end. A muffled sound drifted from behind them in the bushes, distant and unidentifiable.
“Did ye see that?” Sir Gregory said and quickly turned around, sliding out his golden sword from its scabbard.
“I heard it, too, Sir Gregory, but it’s likely from hungry animals,” Callum said but also quickly and silently drew out his sword. The other four did the same, arming themselves with swords and crossbows, ready for any action that would eventually take place.
Sir Dunkin and his gang stood hidden inside the bush and stared into the mist and the dark. They had seen Callum and his party’s horses, and he was excited. At last, his plans were going as arr
anged; all he needed to do was wait until Callum, and the other warriors entered the death zone, then he would signal Justine, who had already loaded his crossbow, to act.
Suddenly, he noticed that Callum and the others had stopped. He was filled with rage when he saw him climb down from his horse and observe the tracks made by his own horse. The moment he saw them starting to trace the tracks, he knew his chances of getting the lairdship were slim. He never thought that of all things in the world, a track made by his own horse could thwart his plans. He looked about wearily and discovered that if he didn’t take them out soon, they would find his hideout and would ride back to town and raise the alarm. He experienced a sudden violent urge to turn about and go straight to their retreat and face them with his group, but it dawned on him that he wasn’t to be seen. Although he would make sure that none escaped, should even one get away, his lairdship ambitions would be sunk.
He signaled to Justine and George, who had hidden behind the leaves of the trees to follow Callum and his group members. George nodded to Frederick, Owen, and Scoffield to also follow them. Should Callum and his group members get to the cave, they would be left with the thinnest of options to attack.