The Highlander

Chapter Eighteen

Finlay

The battle was bloody and long. It was nearly night when the enemy had thinned out into a small group of survivors. Yet we fought relentlessly, striking them down until they were a mass of jumbled limbs and horses piled on the ground.

Alan McKenzie still lived and I had to hold back from charging past a line of warriors protecting him and chopping his head off with one swing of my sword.

I needed him alive. He held vital information that could- nay, would help me. It would give us the upper hand, knowing their next move, calculating our attack to intercept and destroy.

"Finn!" a loud shout came from my right and I struck down a young warrior beside me, my eyes catching his before I could look away.

I hated to look in the eyes of those I killed without knowing the person, knowing why they were dying beneath my blade. This boy was no older than nineteen, I assumed from a small look upon his horror stricken face. Did he want to be here? Was he forced to?

But that didn't matter. What mattered was surviving. Killing those I had to live, to let my friends and warriors live. To let Rose live.

"Finn!" The shout came again and, sat on Ares, I turned to see Graham galloping over to me on his own dark horse. He was sweating to a great extent where the fat buds were visible from halfway across the field.

When Graham reached my said he said, in between breaths, "The wee Alan bastard is close to being defeated. That line of warriors won't last long Laird. Do ye want us to strike him down with his men? Leave him for ye?"

"Nay. I want him alive. Surround him so he cannae escape. Ye understand?" I commanded.

"Aye Laird!" Graham said once before galloping away, towards over fighting warriors, shouting and relaying my message. And with a final war cheer torn from my throat my band of warriors and I charged at the final handful of enemy warriors, intending to take their leader.

* * * * * * * * * *

"I'm going to beat ye to the brink of death then when my men bring yer lass back I'll fuck before yer eyes and then let ye die, ye slimy bastard!" Alan McKenzie was furious. That was plain obvious to all my men who stood around the large bonfire.

We had minimal injuries, a few scratches and bumps. One man however was lying down a few yards away, resting. He was wounded by the young McKenzie during his hissy fit once he was captured. The wound wasn't deep, just a long scratch across his stomach. He would be fine.

After successfully taking down the final few enemy warriors I had strode up to Alan McKenzie, surrounded by my men, and knocked his straight off his horse before landing a few blows on his wee face before hauling him to the centre of the field were we made a bonfire.

My men had cleared the field of the dead bodies. There were mounds and mounds of them and I demanded they take them as far away as they wanted them. Which was pretty far considering no one wanted to sleep tonight smelling rotting bodies.

We could have moved on and made camp elsewhere but it was night now and I didn't want to travel in the dark in case we ran into more unwelcome travellers. And also because we had to wait here for Rose. I didn't want to think about her confusion and pain if she turned up and we were gone.

Thinking of Rose made my stomach turn. I was trusting Alistair on the basis I knew he would protect her. His...obsession with her informed me that he would keep her safe but I didn't know if he would try something...or worse, take her away from me.

Damn! I should have given her something to protect herself against Alistair never mind those two McKenzie men who galloped after them. All hope and trust rested on Alistair, as much as I hated it.

"Yer never going to see my lass let alone touch her Alan McKenzie." I snarled at the red faced man. He seemed to visibly shake with anger. It was obvious that the Lairds son was angry he was captured. It was a common fact in the highlands that Alan McKenzie and his father thought themselves as indestructible and the strongest clan around.

How wrong they were.

"If I don't get her, then my father will." Alan spat at me, "and he won't hold back. Believe me." And I did. Another common fact in the highlands was the McKenzie Laird loved sharing his bed with women; often however his tumbles were without the girls consent.

The Lairds wife became so jealous that one day, not long ago, whilst her husband was with another, she snuck into the bedroom and slit the girl's throat before attempting to kill her husband. The next day her head was chopped off. Now the Laird was looking for another wife. No doubt he would end up with some poor daughter of an allied clan.

"I grow bored of yer talk Alan McKenzie. Start sputtering some reasons why I should let ye live." I said, sitting on a log placed beside the fire. Alan McKenzie knelt in front of me, two men holding him down. His hands were tied and there was a cloth around his neck, waiting to be shoved into his mouth and silence his pathetic words.

I wished there was someway I could imprint this into my mind. The day a McKenzie was brought to his knees. His father wouldn't believe this. What price would be pay for his son's safe return? The end of the war? No. Laird McKenzie would fight on, but hopefully his son's death would be a message.

"I'm not gonna tell ye anything! My father will slay ye and then ye will burn in hell till the end of time!" the men around me laughed at Alan McKenzie and I offered a slop sided smile into the circle of ridicule, directed at the Laird's son.

"Maybe I can get ye talking wee boy." Graham smiled sadistically before unsheathing a small knife from his side and walking slowly towards Alan McKenzie, his face now as white as the moon that hung full above us.

* * * * * * * * * *

"So McKenzie has men waiting at McDowell land however Laird Angus McKenzie is still on his own clan land. The wee coward." Graham sat across from me on a different log, his hands clenched on his knees tightly. The fire burned in the background between us lighting up the area around us and I could see speckles of dried blood caking his hands. His knife was somewhere else, still covered in McKenzie blood.

"Alan wouldn't reveal whereabouts the warriors waited but I'm guessing it will be on the main road heading into the centre of the clan land. McKenzie knows we are allies with McDowell and knows we don't need to seek permission to enter his land. He will be expecting us to just walk in. I say we go around. It may be a day or two extra travelling but its worth it if we save five lives or more in the process, avoiding a war." I told Graham, both out faces were hard with concentration. Every decision we made could either save or take the lives of my warriors. Every step of our journey needed to be planned carefully.

"I agree Laird. We should leave at dawn, start the journey early." Graham suggested. I agreed but worried whether or not Rose and Alistair would return by dawn. Whether or not they would make it through the night.

"There is a trial around the lake next to the McDowell land. It is tricky to travel through but McKenzie wouldn't have thought we would travel that way. I believe it's our safest option Finn." I nodded at Grahams words and started to plan the journey in my head. I pictured every rest point we would stop and every part of the mountain I could remember. I spent a lot of my childhood around the mountains near the lake bordering McDowell and McLean land. My father used to take me and Laird McDowell's son on adventures in the mountain pass and trail around the lake when we were no more than a handful of years old; training us to be the men we were today.

"I have been there many times before. We will be safe despite the harsh landscape. I hope. We leave at dawn." With the final nod of my head I walked away from the fire, leaving Graham to tell everyone about my decision.

As I walked towards the edge of the meadow where my blanket and belongings lay waiting for me I saw my warriors around me, eating, drinking and talking. Some seemed to sings songs of praise about the small battle we held. I couldn't wait to hear the songs that would fill their lungs when we would the final battle and ended the war.

Alan McKenzie's head was currently being kicked about between a handful of my men, passing it from one to another like it was a play thing for a child. In the morning I would send one warrior, maybe two for protection, to McKenzie land to dump the Laird's son's body and head as a warning.

A warning that we were coming. And we would kill them. And we would not hold back. Theyw ill all die.