by Jenn Lees
“Aye,” Rory was reluctant, but the urgency of the day ahead compelled him to move on. “Everyone keep alert, aye?”
They mounted their horses. Once again Rory helped Siobhan into his horse’s saddle and then sat behind her, they couldn’t afford to lose time. She flinched as she sat. He smiled to himself as the company started the day’s journey.
They made their way by the eastern side of Loch Maree, now grey and dully reflecting a sky of the same hue; its cold waters attracted the water vapour which hung over it in the breezeless morning. The steep-sided mountain to their right retained its misty coat. Anything could hide in it—and follow them. Rory directed his hearing to the right, and he kept attentive to his horse’s ears. The stallion would notice and react to danger. With the deep waters of the loch to their immediate left, they were sitting ducks if attacked.
They came to the rocky section, which sloped steeply to the shoreline, and dismounted and walked the animals. They picked their way higher up and around this section of the mountainside. Siobhan walked awkwardly but stretching her legs would help. They came upon a flat, green shoreline and they remounted once more.
Siobhan shuffled in her seat every now and then. Rory daren’t speak to her today. He had to stay focussed. Loch Ewe and radiation leaking from a submarine, which may or may not be abandoned, were ahead of them and, if his vision was correct, he and Angus would be the ones to sort it. Although that made little sense.
But then it did.
Somehow, he was certain he’d have to be the one to take the risks.
His stallion flicked his head, ears back, gave a throaty nicker and began to rear. Rory put his arm around Siobhan’s waist, holding her tight as a crack sounded on the mountainside nearby. A whizz brushed past his ear.
“Everyone, take cover!” Rory pushed Siobhan off the horse and jumped down beside her. Her startled expression met him as he crouched low next to her. “Go and flatten yourself in the dip on the shoreline and dinnae move!”
She ran to the loch’s edge without questioning him. Rory grabbed his HK submachine gun from where it hung on his saddle and let his jittery horse go. The stallion would come back eventually.
The air filled with gunfire. Loud cries and whoops of men bore down the ben toward them.
The sound of galloping hooves came along behind him. Rory turned. A man wearing dirty leathers, and wielding a sword, lifted it high. He galloped his horse to him, the assailant’s intended target Rory himself. Rory dropped and flattened his body to the ground. Breath coming fast, pulse racing. The hooves of the horse passed. Air whooshed right above him. A stinging sensation began on the righthand side of his head. A tuft of hair with skin attached floated to the ground in front of him.
Rory cocked his HK submachine gun and aimed at the back of the man who had clipped him. The man lifted his sword high and commenced a decent on Callum. A flash of alarm coursed through his being. Rory fired. The man jolted in the saddle and fell at Callum’s feet, the sword landing impotent beside him.
To Callum’s left, Kendra fired arrows into the mist. Riderless horses joined their own in flight. Men groaned in the fog. Xian ran to an injured man who pulled an arrow from his shoulder. With his uninjured arm, the wounded assailant raised a handgun. Rory yelled to Xian. With an effortless flick of his foot, Xian kicked the weapon out of the man’s hand then descended onto his throat with a knuckle punch. The man held his neck, gasping for air. Turning deepening shades of blue, the man’s stridor-like breaths diminished as he soon fell silent.
With a cry to his companions, a rider waved his arm in a circle at shoulder height and the group of assailants followed him back into the mist. The sound of horses crashing through bracken-fern receded up the cloud-covered ben beside them.
“Inventory. Who’s injured?” Rory snapped as he surveyed the damage.
The members of his crew were standing. Xian walked back from the hillside, leaving the body of the man he’d killed. Kendra collected arrows. His brother Callum walked toward him, his smile tight and serious, he enveloped Rory in a hug. One of the techs, Sanjay, held his arm, blood seeped through his clothing at the shoulder. Antony, his face pale and sweaty, held the reins of the startled but settling animals.
Siobhan!
Rory ran to the edge of the loch. She must’ve heard him coming as she raised herself from the dip in the shoreline. A surge of relief flooded through him. She appeared unharmed, but her eyes widened as he got closer.
“Rory! You’re bleeding.” She pointed to his shoulder.
Long drips of blood coloured his shirt. His scalp stung so he placed his hand on the top of his head and came away with damp, sticky fingers. Blood covered his hand, and his neck and collar.
“I’m fine. Scalps bleed a lot, Mum always said.”
“Sit down somewhere. Let me look at it. Where’s the medical kit?” Siobhan’s tones were officious. Commanding.
“You’ll be the nurse now?” He lifted an eyebrow at her.
“I do know some field first aid. Let me see it,” she demanded.
Rory sat on a log by the shoreline and she peered at the back of his head. Xian, Angus and Callum crowded behind him.
“Ooh, brother. Does nae look good,” Callum commented.
“Marring your beauty, boss.” Kendra walked from behind him. She stood in front of them with a smirk on her face. “Women love a man with a scar.” She crossed her arms and looked at Siobhan. A bag with a shoulder strap dangled from her hand. “Well, patch him up then.” She dropped the medium-sized medical kit at Siobhan’s feet.
“Okay, everyone. Give Siobhan some space. Are we sure the bastards have left? Where are the horses?”
“Antony held them,” Callum said. He leaned in closer to Rory and whispered, “Did nae lift a finger to fight, ken.”
“Aye. I did see that,” Rory whispered back.
Siobhan glanced from the open medical kit and looked over to Antony, who still held the horses’ reins. She let out a slow breath before preparing to clean Rory’s wound.
“Send Sanjay over.” Rory blinked away the sting on his scalp. Sanjay need attention as well. “He’s wounded too. What happened?”
“Got his wing clipped.” Callum walked over to the young tech who still held his arm, blood soaked his top at left shoulder level.
“Where’s ma’ Boy?” Rory scanned the scene, he couldn’t see his stallion anywhere. He whistled. The sound of galloping hooves came from the path ahead. His black horse trotted back leading the other loose horses. He made his way through the group and walked right up to Rory and nudged his shoulder, softly nickering.
“I’m okay, Boy.” Rory lifted his hand and stroked the soft muzzle near his head.
“Wow. He’s tame.” Siobhan had a damp gauze in her hand as she stood back, eyeing the large stallion.
“Aye, well. We grew up together, ken.”
Siobhan pressed the cold wet gauze to the raw section of his scalp.
“Ah, mmm, ow! You could have given me warning, woman!” Whatever she’d used to clean his head, stung like blazes.
“Oh, sorry.”
The others moved away, but Boy stayed close, nickering softly.
“You’ll be pleased to know it’s not as bad as it first seemed,” Siobhan spoke above his head. “You’re correct. Scalps bleed a lot and it should heal well, except...”
“Except what?”
“The hair may not grow back.” She dabbed again.
“Makes nae difference to me.” More stinging.
“Kendra’s right. It mars your appearance somewhat. Might put the young ladies off.”
“What young ladies?”
“Well, I suppose Kendra hasn’t been put off at all.” Siobhan picked a bandage out from the first aid kit.
What was she meaning? Him and Kendra? No, he had to put her right.
“Kendra is with our Doctor Christine, not me.”
“Oh. The lady doctor.”
“Aye.”
“There
are plenty of young women in your compound though,” she said after a pause. She began bandaging the dressing to his wound in place.
“Aye, there is but I don’t necessarily need a young woman. Age means nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Aye, nothing.” He tried not to sound impatient. It seemed to bother her. “My parents—well ma faither was eighteen and my mither thirty-seven when they got married.”
“What?” Siobhan stopped bandaging.
“You heard me. Age means nothin’. Love means everything.”
Siobhan resumed bandaging his head. He couldn’t turn to see her expression. The silence was empty, interrupted only by the thudding pulse in his ears. He had thoughts. They were becoming words he couldn’t hold in, no matter how much he was certain it could never be the time nor the place. Not on this journey. But he would say it anyway.
“Relationships. Isn’t that what life is all about? Family. Friends...the man-woman thing?”
Siobhan’s hands paused in their task. She started to speak but stopped herself as Callum returned with Sanjay. The tech sat next to Rory.
Sanjay was quiet. Pale.
“You okay?” Rory asked the young IT tech.
Sanjay nodded. Siobhan began to inspect his wound, not lifting her eyes from the young man’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact with Rory. Rory stood and walked with Callum to Xian and Kendra.
“They’re playing with us.” Rory gazed around at the receding mist. Two more bodies were lying on the hillside. “Leave them.” He pointed toward the bodies. “Give those bandits something to do instead of bothering us. As soon as Sanjay’s good to go, we’ll move on.”
“This is yours.” Callum held out a long sword with a black leather-bound handle.
“Is this what he cut me with?”
“Here is its scabbard.” Xian handed it to him.
A criss-cross of the same black leather, which wound around the handle of the sword also decorated the scabbard. The blade was one sided. His heart thumped as he held the weapon. It looked Japanese, if he wasn’t mistaken. Beautiful.
“A Katana.” Xian read his thoughts. “A reproduction, but the owner has honed the edge sharp, as you well know.”
“Magnificent.” Rory held it out and rested it on his fingers just below the hilt. It went blade heavy, so he moved his hand along till he found its centre of balance; it was almost six inches from the hilt.
“Yes, it’s a good blade,” Xian said.
“Then it’s yours, my teacher.” Rory held it out in both hands and bowed, presenting it to Xian.
“No.” Xian held his hands up before him. “I couldn’t.”
“Aye, you can. And please do.” Rory remained bowed and holding out the sword. “I mean it. In appreciation for all you have taught me.”
Xian blinked and reached out to take the sword. The others stood in silence as he replaced it in its scabbard.
“Thank you.” Xian held the sheathed sword and bowed.
Rory bowed in return. He then glanced over to Sanjay. Siobhan had finished bandaging his shoulder.
“Mount up. We must get going. This nuke won’t wait for us.”
Chapter 17
Horses nickered and whinnied as everyone remounted. Around Siobhan, riders spoke in soothing tones and patted broad necks, settling their jittery mounts. Siobhan sat on Rory’s stallion as he rummaged in the saddlebags behind her. Beside her, Kendra assisted Sanjay to get into the saddle. Her relief on the discovery of only a friendship between Rory and this warrior-like woman, surprised Siobhan. Sanjay winced in pain as Kendra pushed under his uninjured shoulder to get him onto the horse. Siobhan chided herself. She should have put Sanjay’s arm in a sling and determined to do so when they stopped next.
Antony was quiet as he mounted, and he’d not said a word since the attack. This was unusual for him as he always had a comment to make. Antony’s colour had returned, and it was possible, and most likely, his silence was because he’d never seen real action as the Community Militia had.
Real action, not manoeuvres and hypotheticals.
“Ach, mustn’t have packed one.” Rory’s voice mumbled into the saddlebags behind her.
Siobhan turned as he walked to the loch-side, shedding his blood-stained shirt, stiff with dried blood, as he went. Lined with musculature, his bare back rippled as he walked. The muscles in his arms flexed and relaxed as he wrapped the shirt in his hands. Tattooed Celtic artwork covered his entire right arm up to and including his shoulder. Unbroken lines wove in and out and back upon themselves. She recognised the Endless Knot tracing a circular path as a band around his mid-upper arm covering his biceps and triceps. The triskele swirled its way on his deltoid near his shoulder. The Celtic Trinity knot was prominent on his forearm. Swirls surrounded them all, plus more intricate weavings in ink. Dried blood covered parts of it.
Rory approached the water and stooped low, wetting the clean section of his shirt and then washing the blood off his body. Fine freckles dusted his fair, almost white skin. His bandage looked more like a headband, giving him a hippie appearance.
Rory finished his wash, turned and made his way back to where she waited on his horse. Rory’s torso was a study in anatomy. Large pectorals sat below sturdy shoulder muscles. His abdomen taut, muscles pure definition. At the top if his pelvis on either side, a thin line traced its way along the muscle’s edge to his soft buckskin trousers where...
Stop Siobhan!
She shook her head.
With a sharp lift of his head, he held her gaze. She faced the other way as heat rose to her cheeks.
Had he seen her ogling him? She bit her lip.
No time for that. There were more important things to focus on!
Out of his saddle bags, Rory brought a flap jacket with large flat sections, and he shrugged into it.
“What are you wearing?”
“SAPI vest. Did nae bring a second spare shirt.”
“The way things are going you’ll need an armour-plated vest and a helmet.” She indicated to his bandaged head.
He smiled as he put his foot in the stirrup and mounted behind her. The metallic scent of blood lingered.
The day cleared further as they moved off with the loch to their left. Kendra brought her horse close.
“Haven’t seen any of the bodies we saw last time, boss.” She flicked her eyes to the other side of the loch and back again.
“Aye, been picked clean, I suspect.” Rory’s exhaled breath caught the wisps of hair on Siobhan’s neck. She let out a quiet gasp, trying to ignore the warmth and the feelings it caused.
“We still have to keep clear of anything we pass. Radioactive.” Kendra looked directly at Siobhan.
Had Kendra noticed her reaction?
“Aye, I ken,” Rory answered.
“You found the bodies?” Siobhan glanced around to Rory.
“Led us to the submarine like a trail o’ breadcrumbs.”
As Kendra rode off, Siobhan gazed far ahead to where the clearing fog revealed the river flowing out of Loch Maree. As they passed the three islands in the middle of the loch, Rory twisted in the saddle, then wheeled his stallion around for a closer look.
Only the branches of trees moved in the wind. There was no sound except the sighing of the wind through the leaves. Then an osprey circled overhead, emitting short, sharp, high-pitched whistles in quick succession at their intrusion into its territory, the irritated, angry call a reprimand to their trespass. It circled back to its nest high in the tallest pine where it now roosted, protecting its young. Rory breathed heavily behind her.
“Ach. I’m gettin’ jittery now. Humph.” He steered the horse back to the others who’d stopped as well.
“Nothing. Yet,” he said to those ahead. To her he whispered, “This day is nae over and I’m sure we’ve no’ seen the last o’ that lot. You be ready, aye?”
The old road beside the loch took them through the overgrown garden of an abandoned house. The trees of the garden wer
e thick where they nestled by the lake.
“Right, everyone off your horses. Time for some lunch,” Rory ordered.
The group dismounted, and Kendra rummaged in the saddlebags of a packhorse and brought out bread and cheese. Angus got out his home-made book, sat on a stone and continued his study.
“I’ll be over by the water. I need to...you know.” Siobhan’s cheeks warmed as Rory gave her a blank look. “I need to relieve myself,” she said as she marched toward the loch.
The breeze blew cool off the water’s edge. Finding an old rowan tree, she glanced around to ensure no one from the group was looking at her. It was the part of camping she didn’t like.
She pulled up her pants when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, a sharp remark ready for whoever of the group was rude enough to disturb her. A hand engulfed her mouth and gunfire began by the old house.
A stale-human smell accompanied the rough hand, and an arm came around her waist. She yelled behind it.
“Quiet,” a gruff male voice shouted in her ear as the man’s arm tightened.
“Where’s Siobhan? She went to the loch to pee. Anyone seen her?” Rory’s voice came from near the house.
Through the noise of bullets, no one answered him. Apart from the pounding in her temples, the loudest noise was the heavy breathing of the smelly man who held her. With his hand clamped over her mouth, getting air was difficult. She pulled short, sharp inhalations, trying to stave the panic rising within her. She freed a hand and dug her nails into the man’s hand over her mouth. Horses whinnied and shrieked while the men she travelled with yelled, but Rory hadn’t spoken for a while.
Had they shot him? Was he okay?
An electric shock of alarm ran along her spine.
The man who held her grunted and his arm around her jolted, then thrust her away. She ran into the garden’s overgrown shrubbery. He didn’t pursue her. She hid behind the foliage and glanced back at the grunts and noises of effort coming from the direction she’d just fled.
Rory tussled with her ex-captor. He had the man’s arm in a hold which brought him close in, with Rory’s back to him. He was holding the man’s hand in both of his, in a lock, trying to remove the hunting knife the man held.