Early in the morning, Douglas Wallace set off in his carriage with an escort of guards for Edinburgh, remaining true to his word. About the same time, James MacRae was on his way to the MacLean, Douglas and MacDougall clans. He wanted his dreams of victory to become real and he too didn't want to lose what he had already invested in this campaign. Any objections aside, these clans needed to be trained hard and fast to be ready for the plans of attack. Taking the long way down the western shore of Lismore, avoiding as much attention from the Stewart's as possible, MacRae's birlinn ground to a stop at the entrance to Loch a Choire. Ian MacLean came to meet him and welcomed him into their camp.
"What brings ye here, James?" Ian asked after making James comfortable with a seat and a drink.
"The battle begins in less than a month and I need every clan member ready tae fight and sail. I'm appointing new captains fer the Douglas and MacDougall clans, The Earl is off tae see someone who can gi'e us three or four good leaders, so there's no worry of the men getting lost in battle and no doing what they're ordered tae do. I feel I can trust ye tae lead yer men, Ian, ye've done well and proved it. What I want ye tae do is start training in yer birlinns. I'll ha'e Blair stay wi' ye's and help train the men in sea combat. Ye can train against one another and learn tactics at sea. If we don't win on water, we won't win on land, so it's vital every man in a boat knows hoo tae sail and fight." MacRae explained to him,
"I agree, James. I'll ha'e oor birlinns brought out of hiding and start training immediately. Where can we train wi'oot the Stewart's seeing us?" Ian asked him, looking straight across the loch to Castle Stalker less than five miles away.
"Sail at night and bring them tae Ballachulish, tae my loch. We can train wi'oot them seeing us there." James instructed him.
"Aye, that's a good place tae train. As long as we ha'e good winds tae sail wi', we'll be ready." Ian assured him.
"That takes a worry from me, Ian. Bring yer men and boats this night and ye can start at first light. I'm on my way noo, tae see MacDougall and ha'e him prepared. The Douglas' are my biggest worry. There's no a man among them that can lead. I ha'e men coming tae lead them and train wi' them fer battle. Wi' all my original leaders dead, including yer brother, I ha'e no choice but tae make sure we can win, whate'er way we can." MacRae told him, the tone of doubt settling in his words.
"There's still the problem wi' the Fraser's. They've joined wi' the Stewart's and ha'e their protection. They also ha'e three of oor birlinns. I can take some men and find some more before the attack, so that won't be a problem when the time comes, but I want that man dead, his uncle too." Ian's rage roiling to the surface at the thought of them.
"Ian, ye ha'e my authority tae kill them both. Them and any other Fraser's ye come across." James told him smiling, knowing how much Ian had wanted Sloan and Blain dead since his brother's death.
Ian's face took on a most vile look, as the thought of killing his arch enemies took hold in his mind.
"Ye'll ha'e yer chance, Ian, soon enough. Fer noo, concentrate on getting yer men ready tonight and bring yer birlinns tae me." James told him, shaking Ian's shoulder to break his train of thought.
Ian let the thought of killing Sloan and Blain leave his mind and nodded his head to James he understood. James bade him farewell and boarded his boat, heading south along the west coast of Loch Leven and keeping as far away from the Stewart's as he could. Once he passed the tip of Lismore, he sailed across and on to Dunollie.
Word was spread that the MacRae birlinn was approaching and Malcolm prepared himself to greet him. MacRae came over the side and walked up to Malcolm, his hand extended in greeting.
"James, what brings ye tae Dunollie?" Malcolm asked him.
"We need tae talk of the battle. Come, let us sit and drink and I'll tell ye of my plans." MacRae told him and led the way into the hall.
Once they were seated and drink brought to them, James began to explain his plan.
"Malcolm, I need leaders fer the men. I know yer wanting tae lead, but ye don't ha'e the experience yet. I'm sending fer captains and the Earl is getting me them." he started off.
Malcolm heard of his failings and took offence at being told he wasn't good enough. He rose from his seat and glared at MacRae.
"These are my men and I'll be the one tae lead them, or they don't fight. Ye can'ne tell me I can't lead my men. I'm their chief and I say when and who we fight." his defiance clearly showing to MacRae's intentions.
"Malcolm, I knew ye'd feel this way, so I'll set it straight tae ye. Yer young, barely a man yet. Hoo many battles ha'e ye fought in?" James asked him.
"None, so far." Malcolm replied, still glaring back.
"And hoo many men ha'e ye killed in battle?" James asked next.
"Ye saw me kill all those Fraser's. Ye saw it wi' yer own eyes, James." Malcolm told him, feeling he had proved himself already.
"Those were unarmed people ye killed, Malcolm, no a man facing ye wi' his sword drawn, or arras tearing yer hair oot, it was so close. Stand up."James asked him.
"Why?" Malcolm mildly protested.
"I said, STAND UP!!!" MacRae roared at him, his face no more than a foot away from Malcolm's, his eyes quickly ferocious and glaring.
Malcolm stood weakly as ordered and backed away from the table. James rose as well and drew his sword.
"Draw yer blade, Malcolm." the order one he hesitantly obeyed.