by Fiona Faris
"Shut up, little girl! Or I slit yer throat and throw ye intae the bushes. Here! I'd provide the scroll. Ye will write out to the Council of Elders why ye can no longer proceed with the lairdship and order that I should be made the Laird," Dunkin said, searching his bag and bringing out a plain white scroll.
"The Council of Elders will never grant their acquiescence tae such. Lairdship dae nae work that way. I can find something more convincing tae say tae them and... “
"Shut up, ye fool! Dae ye think I am a fool? If ye write the scroll, ye will never enter the land again. They will never see ye again until I become the Laird. Then there would be nothing more ye can dae. Enough said! The scroll lays before ye. Ye have just this moment tae make yer decision. Haha!" Dunkin interrupted, laughing maniacally.
A wry smile covered Callum's lips as he bent forward to pick the scroll. "I'm afraid there's nae ink here, how dae I write?" Callum said, glancing awkwardly at Dunkin and moved his gaze to Ava's eyes. He rolled his eyes toward Ava, and she repeated the gesture. Quickly, he moved his eyes back to Dunkin's face, who was searching his pocket for ink.
"Dae nae worry, I have the ink here, and dae nae try anything stupid. The life of yer wee lass is in danger," Dunkin said and dropped his bag. He knelt after some murmured threats to Ava. As he searched for the knife, a heavy breeze blew the bag away from him and sand into his eyes blinding him for a moment and forced him to release his grip on Ava.
"Run! Ava!" Callum screamed as he dropped the scroll and hurried toward Ava, who was now close to him. Aware of the fact that the only easy chance of being a laird was slipping away from him, Dunkin stood and stared angrily at Callum who had gotten hold of the little child and had given her a slight embrace. He brought out his swords and wielded them.
"I have tae fight my way tae the Lairdship. Today, I swear by the God that I'd soil the ground with yer blood," Dunkin said, gazing into Callum's serious face as they both wielded their swords each counting steps and waiting for the right time to charge.
Callum shuffled to the side and awaited the attack, and, possibly, inevitable death. His opponent, who was done calculating his odds and chances charged with a mighty cry. Callum dodged to the side in one fluid motion. His enemy swiveled in his direction. His menacing eyes were a blazing red, and his dark steel armor made the rest of his features indistinguishable. Dunkin thrust his sword forward, only to be met by Callum's sword. Both swords met in the air with a resounding clang. The man was a master swordsman.
'If I am to die, I shall fight to the last breath,” Callum shouted. With renewed vigor, he slashed his blade back and forth against Dunkin who parried with military expertise. As the combat continued, Gretchen hurried toward Ava and pulled her away from the fight. Satisfied with that they were out of danger, she embraced Ava warmly and drew her head close to her chest. The trickle of tears dripping down her face fell on Ava's cloth.
"I will never expose ye tae such terrible situation again. I'm sorry!" she said. "May God grant tae the Laird the victory over the wicked man. He will ruin the future of the Glenbogle clan should he become the Laird," Gretchen said and spied at the two men who were now exchanging heavy blows.
"Mama! I want tae leave this forest. I dae nae want tae see the man again. He's mean and wicked," Ava said, tugging at her mother's skirt.
"We will soon ride home, my dear. The Laird will soon charge heavily at the man, and he would be forced tae surrender. Then we can ride home and see all yer friends again," Gretchen said and flashed her an assuring smile. She wanted to say more when she heard a loud clanging sound, followed a few minutes later by a loud cry. Gretchen immediately spied from the branches of trees where she had hidden and Ava, and she saw the two men crashing to the ground, rolling and grappling, their swords flinging away. Although Callum had managed to slam Dunkin's head on the floor, the thick forest soil absorbed the impact, leaving little pain for Dunkin to bear. Callum sought a choking hold on Dunkin's neck, but Dunkin wrenched his chin and ducked free from the grasp. They rolled again, each aiming for the other's neck, throat, and stomach. As they rolled to a stop, each being a bit farther than the other, they were forced to let out a weary huff of breath.
"Ye will never win this fight! I promise ye!" Dunkin said as he beat the dust that clung to his trousers and glanced at their swords that were resting far from their fight
"I have fought my way through bloodier wars. I have fought lonely wars and would stop at nothing tae put ye in the ground," Callum said and rushed at Dunkin with a cry.
They crashed to the floor again, rolling and cursing. Callum's lean body fell on Dunkin's, and him gaining the advantage, pinned Dunkin down quickly and threw quick punches on his face until blood gushed out of his mouth and his eyes red with pain and fatigue. Realizing he was at the point of overpowering Dunkin; he wrapped his hands around his neck and choked him until his eyes were bulging from their sockets.
Dunkin, faced with the fact that he was on a losing end and might soon be overpowered and killed, swiftly thought of an escape from the choking grip. As he lay flat on the floor, he grabbed some soil and immediately packed a handful in his hand. As Callum's grasp got heavier on him, he flung the soil right into Callum's face, which in turn, made Callum scream and roll off Dunkin, yelling, his hands covering his eyes. He was temporarily blinded, and it bought enough time for Dunkin to regain a bit of strength as he coughed and walked wearily toward the swords.
"Stand up on yer feet ye feeble-handed warrior and face me! Today is yer last day on Earth" Dunkin said, fumbling with the swords and flung at Callum his own sword. Callum staggered to his sword and gripped it with all fierceness. The fighting continued in a brutal movement, each blocking each other's penetrating attempt. As Callum swiveled toward Dunkin's direction, he felt a sudden gush of pain at his waist, Dunkin was faster and had wielded the sword right in his ribs. His arms began to lose strength, and his legs were starting to weaken.
He dropped to the ground, tasting blood on his tongue. Bruised and tired, with his legs in agony, he summoned his strength and lurched forward against Dunkin and pulled him to the ground. He grabbed Dunkin’s head and twisted it in a vicious motion. The neck made a snapping sound and life drifted away from Dunkin.
"Ah!" Callum let out a hoarse cry, and with a heavy breath, he collapsed on his back in agony.
Chapter Eighteen
Callum felt an impact on his side as if someone was shredding away his skin, and a burst of fiery pain as the edge of Dunkin's sword tore through his muscle and soft tissue. The hard collision of the floor stunned Callum momentarily and had given him a throbbing headache.
Gretchen's face was pale as she let out a shaken cry, seeing the bright crimson that spread over Callum's side right out to the armor and realized he had been severely wounded. She unhooked the armor on his body and eased it to the ground, then she hurriedly attacked the buttons of his coat and waistcoat, ripping the plackets in her sudden frenzy. Wordless, Callum stripped off Dunkin's coat and wadded it into a tight bundle, searching for his wound.
Gretchen ripped open Callum's blood-soaked shirt and found the gushing wound in his side. Her face turned paler still, and her eyes began to glitter, but she had managed to control her rising fear as she took the bundle from Callum and held it firmly against the wound to slow down the bleeding.
The pressure caused such agony that Callum could not prevent a loud groan. His hand remained suspended in the air, with his fingers half-curled. The scent of fresh blood saturated the air, and the winds that had been blowing fiercely during the fight had calmed considerably.
She bent over him and examined the wound. "Uncle Callum is nae feeling sae good, Mama!" Ava said wearily to Gretchen who was searching for help, her pale face flushed with worry and confusion. How would she lift him up to the horse? How will she ride the horse and take him back to the keep? As if Ava knew her thoughts, she tugged at her mother's skirt. "Mama, there is a wagon at the far end of the cave where the wicked man had taken me tae," sh
e said, pointing her little fingers to the southern part of the forest.
"Oh, perfect! I will gae there tae have a look," she said and to rose while Callum maintained the pressure on the wound. Taking his hand, she gripped his fingers firmly. "I will be back, my laird. I should see tae how we'd be conveyed out of this forest," she said to him.
Her touch seemed to relieve him a bit, producing a counterbalance to the gnawing pain in his lower abdomen. Callum looked at her face, unable to decipher her expression. There was a strange, deep glow in her eyes, something like pity, tenderness, and sorrow. Something so rare and indefinite.
He struggled to say something to exile the disturbing emotion in her eyes, but she shushed him with an index finger pressed to his lips. "Dae nae speak more, my laird. Remain strong for me as I gae search for the wagon," Gretchen said and got to her feet. She smiled, encouragingly at him before walking away.
"D-daenae be l-long" Callum struggled to say, his voice breaking as he struggled to breathe. Finally, he gave up trying to talk, allowing his head to fall back on the cold ground, his eyes closing.
Some moments later, the stomping of horses’ feet and their protesting neighs filled the air. The wagon was screeching to a halt some little distance away from Callum. She hurriedly climbed down and scurried toward him. His face was red as he had no means of knowing how Gretchen appeared that moment, as he grabbed her hand and let her cradle him as tenderly as a mother with a hurt child. All he was aware of was that the wound in his side ached unbearably.
Constant tremors ran through him until his teeth began to chatter. He was vaguely aware of Ava leaving for a moment, tearing big leaves from tree branches and returning with an armload of them, spreading them over the back of the wagon and then spreading some clothes they had managed to gather for themselves on top of the leaves.
"My laird, ye have tae be strong as ye will help me tae pull ye up, then we can ride tae the keep and see tae it that ye are adequately cared for," Gretchen said with a reassuring smile carved on her face, settling her hand on his head and caressing the cold, sweaty surface of his face.
"Ah! That hurts!" Callum moaned through his clenched teeth.
"Just be strong for me, my laird" Gretchen soothed in a crooning voice, her hand slipping beneath his shirt to reach the bare surface of his chest. Her other palm rested over his back and helped him slowly into the wagon and lay him upon the makeshift bed of clothing and leaves. Done with that, Gretchen settled Ava in the wagon and placed her hand over Callum's chest.
"Dae nae let yer hand move away from this place. We will soon get home," she said and hurried toward the front of the wagon, climbed to the driver’s seat and aggressively pulled at the reins. Trembling with cold and shock, Callum forced out a few desperate words to Ava who sat by him and noting that it took several thready breaths to get them out.
" Ava! I am.... ... Ah... Sorry... I coulldd... N-nae protect ye." His eyes started to roll back, and he knew he wouldn’t remain conscious for long.
"Dae nae speak, my laird! We shall soon get ye tae the keep" Gretchen said from the driver’s seat, turning her head back to look at Callum before returning her attention to the path ahead. Callum nodded, sinking into the rivers of bright sparks, deeper and deeper until the fluttering lights had faded, and he was lost in blackness.
"Mama! His eyes are closed!" Ava said in an alarming tone, causing Gretchen to look back, her eyes revealing the shock of her face.
"My God," she managed to say amid fear and confusion. She pulled the reins aggressively again such that the horses ran faster as they sped out of the forest, sending dust swirling in the air.
* * *
The wagon wheels screeched to a halt in front of the keep's gate as the evening sun was slipping into the turning clouds; it was the second day of their traveling back to the keep, and by the time they got to the gate, Callum was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open. The guards, manning the gates rushed from their posts at Gretchen's sharp cry. The men hurried to the wagon and lifted Callum out, carrying him inside the keep.
The guards were as careful as possible, but the process of conveying Callum up the stairs had weakened him severely. Gretchen followed closely behind, filled with utmost concern as she saw the stark paleness of Callum's face. Gregory, upon sighting them from afar, ran to them looking quite distraught. Although he had been specifically ordered by the Laird to keep the affairs of the state moving until he returned from the search for the little girl, he had also been worried that he’d made a grave error letting the Laird go alone. Seeing the Laird looking pale and sick was undoubtedly giving him bad feelings.
"My lady, what happened?" he asked as he climbed the stairs with them.
"Sir, there's lots tae be said, but this is nae the time for word exchange. Ye will find out if he's laid tae rest on his bed," Gretchen replied, still pressing her hands on the clothes that covered the wound.
"I've failed in my duties tae protect the Laird, how dae I live with this?" Gregory said as he helped in lifting the Laird’s body to his bed.
"it's nae yer fault. Ye have been specially ordered by the Laird tae continue with the affairs of the land till he returns. There's little ye can do," Gretchen said, and the man fell quiet, though there was clearly dissatisfied with her explanation.
Gregory was quiet save for a few murmured instructions to the maids as they turned the corner. He carried Callum's upper half, while the guards helped with feet. Although Callum was large, they were all quite fit and brought him to the bedroom without difficulty. The room had just been refurbished after the gathering, the walls covered with a layer of silver-colored paint, the old bed had been discarded and replaced with a large handsome one.
At Gretchen's direction, a pair of housemaids ran back and forth, fetching towels and water, and tearing linen into large strips. Callum's limp body was eased onto the bed; the maids tugged off his boots while Gregory and Gretchen worked to remove his blood-stained clothes, and by mutual agreement, they left on his white linen underwear for modesty.
Dipping a clean cloth into the fresh water, Gretchen washed the bloodstains from his body. He appeared powerful yet defenseless. The elegant lines of his body were trimmed to a new leaness, his muscles honed by constant physical activities.
Gregory picked up a clean rag and gently blotted the oozing sword-wound to have a better look at it.
"From the deepness of this cut, I would assume that the enemy was also skillful with the sword tae attack the Laird and cut through his ribs," he said, squinting his eyes as if he saw something in the wound he could bring out to justify his assertion.
"We brought the sword with us," Gretchen said sharply "Dunkin couldnae take the sword with him tae Hell after he was killed by the Laird after a long fight," she said.
"Dunkin? Sae he was truly responsible for the kidnap of the little girl, and he attempts tae kill the Laird? Fuck him!" Gregory said in anger. And with renewed interest, his eyes widened, "May I see the sword ye brought along, my lady?"
The woman withdrew the sword from the rolled coats packed in a heap on the floor and handed it to him. Gregory assessed it with an expert glance of a seasoned warrior.
"The sword is fine, but Dunkin is such a brilliant sword wielder. Only Laird Fraser could defeat him then" he paused and glanced at the sword in unwavering desire. “I have seen this sword before. It's nae tae be used in training or for any other purposes. It’s just for war. It destroys one’s enemies quickly as if the blade is laced with some sort of poison." He glanced at Gretchen and arched a brow as he slipped the sword into its scabbard. 'With yer permission, I will retain this till the Laird gets better and strengthened tae wield it. It should nae be seen around lest it falls intae the wrong hands again," Gregory said, glancing at Gretchen.
"I have nae objection tae it... Has anyone sent for the healer? Gretchen said dryly.
"Yes, my lady, and sooner than we could think, he would be here," Gregory said.
Further conversation was
prevented by the arrival of the keep's healer. He had been the most trained healer in the history of the keep, as he was said to have learned a lot from scrolls from his predecessors and mastered the study of herbs. Gregory, the guards, and Gretchen left the room while the healer examined the patient. He cleaned the wound and applied some grounded herbs and covered it with a light dressing and made for the door.
"There are nae major organs damaged, and much thanks tae heavens the cut was nae sae deep tae affect the bones and complicate issues," he said to Gretchen and Callum, his bearded face wearing a grave expression.
"It is a significant injury. The recovery will depend on his attitude tae treatments and the quality of his care, and as always, the heavenly help. There certainly would be fever which will run its course, and in these cases, I would advise that the Laird be left tae relax well. I will visit daily tae determine if the Laird's blood would be required tae drain off his body. However, dae keep him rested and clean, feed him vegetables and cattle's milk and administer these herbs for his discomfort," he finished with a smile on his face and took a bow.