Iain saw his men following MacRae towards the shore and broke from cover. Screaming as loud as he could and waving his arms, he hoped his brother, or one of the others would hear or see him. Grayson joined him, both waving their arms and yelling the MacLean motto and then more voices joined in.
Stuart MacLean was riding with his clansmen in the last half of the charge, when his arm was pulled by one of his men and told to turn and look at the two men on the battlefield. Iain was instantly recognizable to him, but confusion took him, as to why he was with Grayson and they were yelling their clan oath. He watched him closer and saw that Iain was giving him a signal. He knew what Iain wanted him to do, but didn't trust what he saw under the circumstances. Noticing more MacLean tartans engaged in battle with MacRae's cavalry, he fought his doubts and heeded the signal given by his brother.
Giving the command to break away, he and his men, along with a few members of the other clans, rode in front of the pits and on towards Iain and Grayson. The echoes of their oath were still ringing out from men positioned around them, further confusing them.
MacRae and Rennie were unaware of the diversion and continued their charge for the opening along the shoreline, their force cut close to half by the loss of the MacLean's. Stuart halted quickly in front of Iain and looked desperately for an answer from him.
"We're wi' the MacDonald's now, Stuart. No time tae explain why, just know that MacRae is going tae lose this battle and we'll ne'er set foot in a castle or lands if we stay wi' him. We lost at Tioram and the same is happening here. Rid yer ranks of those of other clans wi' ye. When ye ha'e, ride back like ye's are still wi' them. When the attack begins, do yer best tae keep them from escaping" Iain instructed his brother.
As word spread of the defection, men were soon engaged in combat. The MacDougall's and Douglas' that were once fast allies, were soon at each other as mortal enemies. It wasn't long before all objectors were slain and the new alliance of men were ready to fight against the opposition. Stuart led them away, but hearts weren't resting easy with the change.
Waiting in the treeline was Sloan Fraser, along with his men, watching the men who slaughtered his family and clan, slaughter yet another in their quest for power. The tense mood heightened with each yard that was closed, as memories of their slain, remained vivid in their minds.
Stuart MacLean had been at the Falls of Lora massacre, Sloan remembered him standing beside his brother, Iain, the bodies of his clansmen subjected to the Blood Eagle, hanging from the trees around them. In his heart, he held the MacLean's accountable for his clan's deaths and only their own deaths would be equal repayment for justice.
Stuart saw the looks on the faces of the Fraser clan as he passed them and felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. This was a secret fear he had held since that day, that retribution for his acts would come to him one day and this, was now that day. He rode past them and felt the weight of burden for his deeds, sit heavy in his heart.
MacRae felt a moment of triumph, as he and his men joined the fray with the heavy cavalry and held the defenders back, giving the foot soldiers a clear path to the castle.
The Pioneers were towing the siege equipment behind their horses, slowing them down from the second wave, but fate was on their side and they too, made it past and on to their objective. The foot soldiers now rounded the last point and began charging for the castle. On past their cavalry, the men closed on Donan and readied for an attack.
Peadair saw the charge coming and had his archers prepare for them. Flamers were readied for the siege attempt and the plan Grayson had suggested. MacRae and Rennie had the men assemble around them, the orders for the attack given quickly, as the Pioneers unhooked the carts and positioned them at the ready.
The siege carts, thick wooden shields on two wheels, were large enough for four archers to take cover behind and fire through the vertical slits. Dorlochis were attached to it, filled with arrows for rapid attack. Slowly the first one was pushed forward and onto the bridge, followed closely behind by the second and third carts, the slippery oil making it hard to gain a foothold for traction.. Archers fired on them, hoping to catch an unguarded man. MacRae divided his attention between the raging battle behind him and the men crossing the bridge. His hopes of winning felt good to him, as he saw the cavalry continue to battle Garreth and his men, keeping them from him and the attack as planned.
Arrows flew from the castle battlements at the attackers, keeping them under cover behind their shield. Peadair waited until all three carts were past the bridge and put into position. Arrows began whistling at him and his men, keeping them under cover, just as he hoped. Seeing the time was right, soldiers began running over the bridge with ladders, followed by the main force. At the decisive moment, Peadair yelled out to the archers and flamers soared over the walls and landed on the bridge, lighting ablaze the oil covering it.
Men were instantly engulfed with flames, diving from the bridge into the shallow water to extinguish the agonizing pain of being burned alive. Others ran back into the mass of men behind still pushing forward, lighting them up in the conflagration. MacRae watched in horror, as a hundred men perished in flames before his eyes. It wasn't long before the smell of burnt flesh permeated the air and wafted to him, adding to his misery. The bridge was engulfed in flames and mayhem, stranding the archers behind their shields. MacRae watched, as forty plus men rushed from the shattered castle gate, blades ready to strike. The archers were at a loss to fire on them, the angle of the shields preventing them a chance to fire on the approaching wave of death. Quickly, the men behind each shield abandoned their protection and ran for the water in an attempt to escape. None touched a foot to the water, as they were overrun and set upon by blades.
A tremendous roar of victory rose from the men in the castle, as they looked at the dead and dying on the bridge and the chance of another attack defeated. From the starboard rails of the Ville de Lyon, Arabella and Therese, along with Princess Margret and the French, watched the battle unfold and the attack thwarted. Therese struggled to see where Garreth was in the melee, wanting to assure herself he was still alive, while Arabella tore her attention in two, looking for Grayson and also Braedon, somewhere amidst the flailing blades of the battle with the cavalry, as thick, black smoke rose in a column from the bridge and drifted towards the battle.
MacRae suddenly felt the anguish of loss take him, as he saw his forces decimated and his chance at reclaiming Donan, once again within his grasp, snatched away in defeat. Unbridled rage surged through him and vengeance was now his only motivator to go on.
He saw the MacLean's riding around the outside of the battling cavalry, thinking they were flanking them and gave a signal to engage. Stuart saw the signal and gave the order to charge. MacRae gave orders for the remaining men to align behind him and Rennie. With fifty riders and less than two hundred men, he advanced them towards the ongoing battle, hoping to wipe out as many of his foe as he could.
Coming from farther down the coast, Glendon, Gordon and their men were quickly covering the last few miles on foot. The sounds of battle rang from the hills, giving them the will to push hard and re-engage in battle. They came across the scene of battle where Robert and the others had ambushed the attacking force from behind. Dead bodies littered the area, the ground dark and damp from the blood. They halted and quickly looked for their own clansmen among the dead, but found none. As they stood stunned at the scene, a bloodied Athol emerged from the woods above them.
"Their no oors. Oor wounded and dead are up here. We took out a great number of their men, but we lost many ourselves. Once the last of them were killed, Robert had them continue tae the castle. They should be there now, or close tae it. We only took out a third or so of them, so there's still a large force. We lost close tae a hundred, most of them dead already, the rest are just waiting tae join them."
"We ha'e aid fer ye. Vernon, Douglas, see tae the men and do what ye can fer them. Save as many as ye can. Athol, ye and the men done well. Yer sacrifices will no be in vain." Gleason told him, then turned to the men, "We make fer the castle,now!"
Athol crossed his fist over his heart in gratitude as they rode off, while the two men climbed up to the dead and dying.
Bloodied and battle-worn, Robert and his men rounded the last bend at a full gallop. The scene before them was chaotic, men engaged in combat on foot and horseback. To his left, MacRae and his men were beginning to engage, while on the right, the MacLean's were charging in. The carnage of the pits showed their effectiveness as they rode past, dead animals and men filling them, while others lay around them in agony, their bodies mutilated and crushed by their own horses, as they tried to avoid meeting the same fate.
Garreth and his riders were close to winning the battle with the cavalry, when MacRae's forces pushed the balance of power out of his favour. MacRae's men doubled up on attacking the defenders and Garreth could see his men falling in ever larger numbers and prayed in his heart for the strength to defeat them. The power of the Fairy Flag had served him well, but it wasn't enough to overcome the forces now attacking. Hopes became distant dreams, as the wave of MacRae's men advanced in control.
Stuart MacLean saw the onslaught beginning and had his men ride the flanks of the fray towards MacRae's men. MacRae saw him coming and felt the chance at winning take hold. As quickly as it started, it vanished just the same, as Stuart and his riders began hacking down the men on foot. MacRae was stunned by the turn of events and an even greater rage consumed him, at seeing the traitorous act.
Hordes of men poured from the wooded areas around the battle and joined in with ferocity. Sorley led the Irishmen and waded into the fight, his sword meting out death in single blows, as did the swords of the others.
