Blood Of The Clans Ch 04

The arrow tip followed its target slowly, staying on mark and waiting for the right moment to release. Kyle MacDonnell was a skilled hunter and waited patiently, keeping the tension on the bow taut. He stepped lightly through the underbrush, keeping his footfalls near silent, as he kept his distance from the stag, grazing on new shoots. He saw it turning his way, providing the perfect kill shot. The whistling of wood and feathers streaked through the air, sure of its mark.

Kyle, only son of Hamish MacDonnell, left this world without knowing how or why he was just killed. The arrow that streaked for his heart without warning or provocation, found its mark and instantly darkened his eyes forever. He fell with little sound, his own arrow releasing and disappearing into the thick woods. The deer he was hunting, left in leaps and bounds to live another day, keeping the dark deed secret.

Twenty, dishevelled clansmen, their clothing dirty and worn, armed with tarnished broad swords, dirks and axes, passed the lifeless body and continued with stealth to the edge of the brush. A long passage of open land lay between them and the bridge to the castle and it would take a quick dash to cover and a slow approach to the castle walls.

The early hour of the morning raid gave them the near dark conditions to go unnoticed, as a rolling fog was coming in off the loch and made their conditions that much easier to accomplish.

Blair MacRae turned and spoke in whispered command, "Get in, take out everyone". his eyes intending the meaning of a quick death to any and all.

The others looked at him with determined fierceness in their eyes and set in the looks of their faces. Blair turned back, took a quick look to both sides and sprinted for the bridge. The others were out and racing after him, to storm through with surprise and take control. They made it along the far wall of the bridge without being spotted and crept up to the outer curtain wall. The gateway was open, allowing them the ease of storming through and taking them by surprise. Quietly they scaled the wall and prepared for attack.

Hamish MacDonnell was just coming into the courtyard, as Blair MacRae burst past the gate, his sword raised above his head. He stood in disbelief, as he watched MacRae after

MacRae run in behind him, all brandishing swords and knives.

Blair ran towards the first male, a peasant farmer setting up his harvest for sale and brought his sword down in an arching swing, almost severing the man's neck. Blood spread in sweeping arcs, as Blair ran the blade through him and readied it for the next strike. Hamish turned quick and raced back in, screaming out the alarm. He entered the armoury and found his sword and targe, then continued screaming out the alarm, as he ran back to the courtyard.

In the short time he had taken to return, twelve men lay dead and more were being taken down, as he looked. He dashed at Blair, screaming his battle cry, his face set with rage, sword raised to strike. Blair turned, as he heard the scream and prepared himself for the attack.

Hamish brought his sword crashing down at Blair, who countered with a defensive move, but was unable to stave off the full force of the blow. The blade cut into his left shoulder and weakened him, making him drop his sword, so Hamish pulled back and readied to strike with full force again. It was his undoing and left his body open to attack. Blair used it to his advantage and pulled the dirk from the scabbard on his waist and thrust it into Hamish's abdomen. The sound of metal slicing through tartan and flesh, told all there was to know to Blair. He had succeeded in besting MacDonnell and turning it to his victory.

Hamish's eyes went wide in shock and then returned to a look of hatred and ferocity.

He continued his stroke and brought the hilt down hard on Blair's upper chest. The strike was enough to drive Blair back, but not enough to disable him. Blair quickly recovered his step and in a quick lunge, drove his dirk deep into Hamish's sternum. Hamish's sword dropped from his hand and he slowly sank to the ground, his eyes showing defeat to his enemy.

Blair picked up his sword and while Hamish knelt bleeding, Blair swung hard and cleared Hamish's head from his shoulders. Blair looked about and saw dozens of dead bodies, then smiled, as he saw that none were his men. With Hamish's blood dripping along the blade, he ran into the keep, slashing and killing anyone he met as he ran through, sparing no one. One after another, people became victims of their raid, unable to escape the blades meting out death in mass quantities.

Lady Anne MacDonnell had come from the sitting room, where she was writing to her sister in France, before the commotion started. She sat in her morning robes at the small writing desk, the candlelight casting a faint swath of light over the surface. Hearing the screams of her husband that they were under attack, had her alarmed and remembering his orders for protective hiding. Her place was the store room, where a passage out of the castle and into the woods beyond was built. Hamish had gave orders for what she must do in that event. Now that it was upon her in unexpected fashion, she hesitated in what she must do.

She ran from her room and went for her daughter, Heather, but found her way becoming blocked from approaching men. She turned in despair from where her daughter and her two cousins were and ran for the storeroom, her thin slippers keeping her footsteps quiet. Passing a small window, she looked out and saw the headless body of her husband and felt a stabbing in her heart and nearly collapsed, but resolved herself to make it to the trapdoor and safety beyond it.

Hamish the Elder had ordered it built a hundred and ten years past, after the MacRae's laid siege to the castle two years before, almost starving them out and winning the battle. Only the help of the MacLeod's coming to their aid, helped turn the tide and grant them a victory. Hamish had set about having it built at great cost to life and fortune, as four men died in a cave in and suffocated and a great deal of the family's wealth was spent in building it, but it was a necessity that bore a need for construction. The exit was well covered and there was no chance of it being seen in the thick woods beyond.

Lady Anne raced to the store room and pushed the heavy crate covering the trap door out of the way. She climbed down the wooden ladder to the dank, earth floor below, her feet settling in the moist ground. The wood-lathed walls were damp and the tunnel stank heavily of mouldy wood. Without aid of a torch, she carefully picked her way along the corridor blindly, feeling the walls as she went, her feet sticking in the mucky floor. With no light, the distance seemed infinite, until her hand felt the earthen wall in front of her.

She felt along the wall until she hit the ladder and felt her way on to it. Reaching the top, as carefully and quietly as she could, she pushed the wooden hatchway up and the bushes covering it. The bright light stung her eyes, after being in pitch blackness, as she crawled out and covered it back over again. Lady Anne listened for sounds and then raised her head to look for signs of anyone around. Finding the way clear, she raced into the woods and kept close to the bushes for cover, should anyone come. She ran as fast as she could to the north, hoping to reach the house on the coast owned by Jacob Dornie. Her only hope was to reach the castle of her clan ally, the MacDonald's, on the south shore of Skye, in Castle Camus.

It was Hamish's Grandmother, Heather MacDonnell, namesake of her daughter, who had married Torquil MacDonald and set ties to the largest and most powerful clan of the Western Highlands. Henceforth, their clans had been in bond and it was John MacDonald and Hamish's father Rory, who had joined in Manrent for joint protection and prosperous growth of their clans. For generations they grew and became the force they were this day. This day, being one they were now challenged to hold onto that power.

Jacob Dornie was a local fisherman and trader of local goods to surrounding villages on the lochs. Never having a wife and children, he had lived a lonely existence, but one he found pleasure in. He hand-made his own boat and took pride in knowing he could best the speed of many others and some birlinns. She became his life's love, knowing her intimately and admiring her beauty, calling her, Fiona.

He had sailed everywhere the winds and waters took him and knew every nook and cove a village existed. In his sixty two years, he had come to know the tides and winds like they were his children and knew his crafts with great alacrity. This morning had found him getting his wares ready for sale. His morning's catch of fish, gutted and strung, his loaves of bread and sacks of grains, and a satchel of cooking tools, for his sail to the lower lochs and several of the villages he was accustomed to selling and trading in, were all being readied carefully.

Blair MacRae raced through the castle with ten men, slashing and stabbing everyone to death. They searched each room and then met in the courtyard with the rest.. They had six women they had taken captive, kneeling in front of them, their hands bound and unable to escape. Torn material lay in tatters about their bodies, their bared breasts, reddened from harsh grasps. Darkening patches on their faces told of the slaps and beatings they received, to submit unwilling to their fates. Once coiffed hair fell in disarray about their heads, covering some of the atrocities, as well as their nudity.

"Close and bar the gate. Iain, post men about the walls. Keighvin, ye and some of the others gather the bodies." Blair took command of them and looked about the castle grounds. His face broke to a smile, as he realized they had taken the castle and only two men injured, himself being one.

He walked towards the women and stood before them, looking them over. None lifted their head to look at him, so he roughly pulled the hair back of the end one, making her look at him. He smiled wickedly as he saw who it was.

"Heather MacDonnell, once my men have cleared all the bodies out, ye and the others will wash the blood off the floors and then make me and my men some food." Blair's cold, grey eyes and fierce expression set a fear in her. "After that, my men and I will need servicing."

He threw her head forward again and then looked about at his men.

"Fetch a cart and load this shite on tae it. Take it out and burn the lot." he ordered two of his clansmen.

They went off in search of a large cart in the stables, while six more were carrying the dead into the centre of the courtyard. Fifteen lay piled already and more were being brought out. Blair looked at who the dead were and recognized most of them. Thinking of Heather, it sparked a thought in him and he searched the bodies and faces more closely.

"Where's Lady Anne? Find her and bring her tae me." he shouted to the ones retrieving the dead.

His cousin and his brother both ran into the castle and searched the rooms for her. They came back to say every room was checked and no sign of her. Blair walked quickly into the castle and searched the lower rooms. Opening the door to the store room, he immediately spotted the trapdoor in the floor.

"Ye great idiots, did neither of ye's, or the others, think tae check this door out?" Blair said condescending them. "Get a torch and go down and see where it goes."

Lachlan, Blair's youngest brother, fetched a torch from the hall and lit it from the kitchen hearth. His cousin, Alexander, was standing on the ladder waiting for him and took the torch, as he climbed down. They walked down the narrow passageway for several hundred yards before reaching the end and seeing the ladder. Lachlan climbed up and pushed the cover and bushes off the top and climbed up enough to see out.

"We're in the forest, north of the castle. I'll go look fer her, ye go back and tell Blair where it is. She can'ne be tae far ahead, where'er she's going, but I ha'e a good feeling it's tae Knock Castle and they bastard MacDonald's. The fisherman up the coast is her only hope." Lachlan shouted down to Alexander.

"Aye, she'll stay tae the woods tae co'er herself, that'll slow her down." Alexander replied and dashed back down the passageway again.

Lachlan broke from the scrub brush and ran through open ground as fast as he could. He knew Lady Anne had one place she could go and he headed straight for it. She had a good head start and was closer to her goal, than Lachlan was to her, but his speed would narrow that margin quickly against hers.

With the knowledge her life would end if she was caught, it drove Anne to run as fast as she could, no matter how much her lungs burned and muscles screamed in painful disuse at that moment. She never paid heed to the sharp ends of a broken branch, tearing away the material of her robe and slashing her skin, she remained so grievously focused on the pathway through the dense woods, that led her to her goal. Bared and cut flesh was the least of her worries, as her life was held in peril.

Alexander climbed the ladder again, to find Blair still waiting, looking anxious for the news he brought. He stood with him and pointed out the direction of the tunnel and where Lachlan was headed, as he relayed his information.

"Blair, the passageway leads tae a forested area a few hundred yards north of the castle." he told him quickly, "Lachlan thinks Lady Anne escaped and is headed for the fisherman on the coast of Loch Long, tae get tae Knock Castle and they MacDonald's." Alexander informed Blair of the possibility.

Blair ran from the room and out into the courtyard again. He scoured the faces of the men, looking for certain ones.

"Alistair, William, and you as well Alexander, ye three men go tae the coast and ready the birlinn. If Lady Anne makes it tae Knock Castle, our control will be short lived. See to it she does'ne arrive there. The rest won't arrive for one or two days more, so we need tae remain unknown. Our success lies in yer's. Don't fail yer clan. Now go!" Blair ordered them.

The three were running at top speed for the coast as well, but in the opposite direction. They had sailed in, under the cover of darkness and moored along the coast of Loch Duich, waiting until just before morning's light to commence their raid. The dark birlinn made no noise, as they pulled it to the shore and tied it to the overhanging branches of a tree. They watched the castle and the surrounding area for anyone who might spot them and were prepared to take out anyone who might raise an alarm. As the morning light approached, they had made their way through the thick woods and were sitting in wait, when Kyle MacDonnell unwittingly became the first casualty, due to his fateful hunting trip.

Lady Anne broke from the woods and into a clearing along the shore, stopping to gather herself and catch her breath. Quickly she looked about to get her bearings where she was, then saw the hovelled cottage of Jacob Dornie far down on the coast and raced for it. Tears streaked from her eyes, as she knew in her heart her husband and possibly her daughter and son were dead, the castle lost to the MacRae's. Her heart was being torn with the guilt of leaving her daughter to the hands of those heathens, knowing her death would be better, than what lay in store for her, should she be spared. No movement could be seen, nor smoke from the hearth rising up, as she neared it. His boat was still beached on the shore and her hopes stayed up. She ran to it and started to cry out for Jacob.

Hearing the screams from outside, Jacob walked out the door and looked along the shore. He saw Lady Anne MacDonnell frantically racing towards him and headed to her.

"Jacob, Jacob, they've killed Hamish and taken the castle. I ha'e tae get tae Castle Camus in all haste and tell them. I beg yer kind soul tae take me there."

Jacob saw the total distress of Lady Anne and knew her to be a calm, staid woman of character. She ran into his arms and he held her in comfort.

"Who killed Laird Hamish, M'Lady? Who's taken the castle?" he asked in urgency of the danger.

"The MacRae's. They stormed in and killed everyone. I stole away using the hidden passage and came here. They ha'e control of the castle and if I'm found, they'll put me tae death." her words ragged and choppy, as she tried to explain through the deep, sobbing breaths.

"The MacRae's? James MacRae and his lot?" Jacob took a quick thought of who was laying siege and knew they were heartless heathens, who'd kill without question for their own gain. "Hurry Lady Anne, get intae the boat and I'll make fer Castle Camus in all haste."

He remembered the telling of how the MacRae's had plundered and murdered innocent people in their beds. Many of the villages he visited, shared similar tales of their brutality. Jacob helped Lady Anne to his boat and she climbed aboard the small, but sea-worthy craft. Jacob pushed them off the beach and into deeper water, before climbing aboard and raising the canvas. In moments, the wind had gathered in the broad sail and they were gaining much needed speed. Neither of them saw Lachlan as he ran towards them and stopped in defeat. He cursed and swore, as he turned and ran back to the castle to tell Blair.

Alistair was a faster runner and was already unfurling the sail, as the others climbed aboard. They untied it from its moorings and pushed off the shore, drifting into the loch. Alexander and William sat across from each other and lowered their oars into the water. The winds weren't favourable for them and had to rely on the pulling of the oars to catch up.

"Pull ye lot, put more effort intae they strokes. There she is wi' the old man, the now." Alistair said, pointing at the small sail on the loch, hundreds of yards away. "If she makes it tae Knock, we'll be as good as dead if she tells MacDonald what we've done. If they don't kill us, Blair surely will." Alistair MacRae reminded them.

William and Alexander, as well as the others, pulled harder on the oars to get to favourable winds. Strong, sinewy arms strained to their limit, needing to clear the point of Loch Duich and into the winds now carrying Lady Anne farther away. As they rounded the point, Alistair turned the mast boom and the sail snapped sharply and caught the wind. The men pulled the oars in once they couldn't make more speed and sat anxiously, as they saw the fishing boat off in the distance.

The birlinn had the edge of greater speed over Jacob's smaller craft, but the distance between them offered the pair an advantage. Jacob also knew the waters and the winds much better than the MacRae's did. His decades of sailing the waters gave him an edge again, to seek out the best route of catching the winds. They were just passing the low-lying island in the middle of the loch, on the south side, where the winds gathered speed in the narrows, as he looked back and saw the black birlinn and its white sail coming faster.

Jacob knew in his heart it would be a test of his seamanship, to best the speed of the birlinn and reach Castle Camus, before the MacRae's caught up to them.

"We've got the wind tae our backs and distance between us M'Lady. I'll get ye tae Knock before they catch us." he said to her, in hopes of easing the frantic state she was in.

She looked into Jacob's eyes and then past him to the sail that grew larger in her vision as the minutes passed. She tendered a weak smile and gave Jacob thanks for his efforts to ease her suffering.

"Thank ye, Jacob. I owe ye a great debt and my life fer yer service. If God sees fit fer us tae make it tae Camus, I'll see tae it yer well rewarded." Lady Anne's words were weakly spoken, but Jacob knew the truth that lay in them.