Fraser 02 - Highland Quest (16 page)

Fallon sliced open the fabric. “We must extract the arrow and seal the wound. Have you any whiskey?” She carefully removed what was left of Keith’s tunic and tossed it aside.

“Bring me the jug from my chest and anything else the lass requests.” Dungal issued his orders to one of his men and returned his attention to his brother when he began to thrash and cry out. He placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders, but he was no match for a mountain of a man made delirious with pain.

“You must keep him quiet.” Fallon examined the spot where the arrow entered Keith’s back then reassessed the exit wound on his chest.

“Can you help him?” Dungal’s voice cracked with emotion when he spoke.

“The steel tip pierced the skin of his chest, but the arrow head has not gone all the way through. To try and draw it out the way it entered would do more damage and kill him. Before we can remove the arrow, you will need to snap off the feathers about an inch up the shaft.”

Dungal’s face blanched. “Then what do you propose to do? I dinna see how that would make a difference. The arrow will still be lodged in his body.”

“Once the end is cleared, I’ll require two strong men to assist me. One on either side of him to thrust him back against the tree. The metal tip will be forced the rest of the way through his flesh when the shaft strikes the trunk and the arrow can then be pulled out.” Fallon swept a strand of hair from her sweat-dampened brow. “It is the only way.” She glanced up at another man. “Take two daggers and heat them in the coals. The wound will need to be sealed.”

“You heard her. Heat the blades and be quick about it,” Dungal shouted at the man as he trotted off, nearly colliding with the one sent to retrieve the whiskey. He looked at Fallon. “You’ve done this before?”

“Aye.” Fallon opened the flagon. “I’ll need the two of you to hold him steady while I clean the wounds.”

Dungal positioned his brother according to Fallon’s instructions then snatched the spirits from her hand and took a drink before handing it back to her. He placed his hands on Keith’s shoulder and ordered his friend to do the same.

Keith bucked and shouted in agony when Fallon poured the liquid over his chest. He’d been the only person to show her any kindness since her abduction and she hated to cause him additional pain, but the cleansing was necessary.

“One of you must restrain him while the other breaks off the feather end of the arrow. Do it quickly, he has already lost a lot of blood.”

Dungal pulled Keith to a sitting position, then reached behind his brother, grasped the arrow, and snapped off the end. He nodded to the man assisting him. “When I count to three, shove him against the tree with all the force you can muster.”

The man nodded and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

With one on either side, the two men pushed in unison, the shaft striking the trunk, and freeing the tip. “Easy, brother,” Dungal cautioned when Keith struck out wildly in response to the sudden pain. But in his weakened state, the blow was ineffective.

The heated daggers arrived and Fallon prepared to seal the torn flesh. “Hold him securely. This will hurt.” She wasted no time completing the task. Bile rose in her throat. The familiar odor of seared flesh and hair assaulted her senses, bringing memories of Bryce’s recent near-death encounter to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m finished. It is now up to the Almighty if he lives or dies.” Fallon wiped her hands on her skirt.

“Pray he survives.” Dungal laid his brother on a pallet of leaves and covered him with a woolen plaid. He faced Fallon. “There are others who need tending. See to them at once.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. As she rose to do his bidding, Dungal grabbed her wrist. He glanced around the group of bystanders and motioned to the man who had guarded her during the battle. “Dinna let her out of your sight. If she does anything you consider questionable, kill her.”

By the time the heat of the afternoon gave way to the cooler evening breeze, she had treated the wounds of at least thirty men. Some would survive, but the fate of others remained uncertain. The guard followed as she made her way to a tree at the edge of the clearing and slid to the ground, resting her back on the trunk. Exhausted, she blew out a ragged sigh.

“You did a fine job, lass. Would you like something to eat and drink?” The guard spoke with a tone of admiration rather than distain.

Fallon shook her head. “Nay, I am too tired to eat.” She closed her eyes, reveling in the moment of peace and silence. But her respite was short-lived when Dungal’s cousin rode into the camp shouting.

Dungal sprang to his feet. “I’m pleased to see you survived. I heard you were taken prisoner.”

His cousin leapt from his horse. “I was captured but during the post-battle confusion, I managed to escape. Not before overhearing a discussion between some of the Bruce’s men. There is reason to believe he is planning to search the area for traitors and survivors. Those found alive will be shown no quarter. Best we prepare to move out as soon as possible.”

“We made sure the camp was not too close to Loudon Hill. Does the Bruce lead the search?” Dungal glanced over his shoulder at his brother. “The wounded are too weak to travel. We have no option but to remain here, at least until the morrow.”

“Nay. I heard Bryce Fraser and his brother will lead one party of warriors and John Kennedy another,” the man replied. “Fraser in particular was very interested in your location.”

Fallon’s heart leapt at the messenger’s words. Bryce was alive and so were Alasdair and John.

Dungal cursed then marched toward Fallon, grabbed her wrist, and hauled her to her feet. “So he lives to be a thorn in my side.” Before she could respond, Dungal tore the pendant from her neck, the leather thong snapping under the pressure. He wrapped the talisman in a small scrap of MacDougall plaid and summoned a messenger. “Take this to the Bruce’s camp. Deliver it to Bryce Fraser, no one else.” Dungal wrote a note and put it with the pendant. “Make haste. I want to deter them before they leave the camp.”

Dungal glared at her. “Fraser will know who owns the item and once he reads the message, I’m certain he willna follow us. Not if he values this one’s life as I believe he does.”

Fallon brought her hand to her throat where her pendant once hung and raised her chin. “He’ll come and he will show you the same mercy you did Fergus and my uncle.”

“Mayhap I will offer your life for his.”

“You aren’t thinking of letting her go, are you?” His cousin moved to within an inch of where Fallon stood, ogling her from top to bottom. “You promised to give me a go at her after you’ve had your fill.”

“Once the fool surrenders himself, I will offer them both over to Longshanks to deal with as he sees fit.”

Bryce stormed toward Robert. “Is the rumor true? We are not going after de Valance and MacDougall? In light of what happened in Turnberry, I canna understand your lack of initiative in pursuing them.” After hearing about Fergus’ execution, his concern for Fallon mounted. While there had been nothing said to indicate she was in danger, he still felt it in his gut.

Robert dismissed the man he was speaking to with a curt nod then faced Bryce. “We won the battle today, but not the war. My decisions have nothing to do with complacency. Each move we make must be carefully planned, or we risk losing the ground already gained. This victory is a huge step on the way to securing Scotland. We canna ignore the entire picture in order to appease personal grudges.” Robert placed his hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “I understand the desire for revenge and your frustration. Seeing Dungal hang would give me great pleasure. But at what expense?”

“Dungal sided with de Valance against his fellow Scotsmen at Methven, Dahl Righ, and again today. He boasts about his affiliation with Longshanks, flaunts his self-appointed authority, persecuting innocent women and children. He hanged Fallon’s uncle and now Fergus. If that’s not enough, he handed your brothers over to be executed after the ambush at Loch Ryan, for god’s sake! What more reason can I give?” Bryce was quickly losing his patience, the unsavory churn of dread building in his stomach. With the hatred he harbored for Dungal threatening to consume him, he took a step back and tried to catch his breath.

“Robert is right. Rather than rushing off without a solid plan, taking the time to regroup makes more sense.” Alasdair joined them with James Douglas in tow. “The enemy suffered heavy casualties and will need to tend to their wounded. We can use a day to care for our own injured and to prepare for our next confrontation.”

“Do you always listen in on other people’s conversations?” Bryce snapped.

“You could be heard shouting halfway across the camp, little brother. I’m certain Dungal caught wind of all you had to say, and he is five or six miles away.”

“What of de Valance? Are they together or did they part ways after the battle?” Bryce lowered his voice, but his ire remained on edge.

James joined the group. “Dungal fled south. He is likely headed back to Galloway to regroup. Aymer retreated in the direction of Bothwell Castle.” He pointed to the east. “My father and I visited that stronghold several times when I was a lad. The donjon is well fortified, so retaliation will be difficult if he remains behind the walls. I agree with Alasdair and Robert. We need time to map our strategy.”

“Robert!” John Kennedy shouted as he sprinted toward them. “A messenger arrived with a missive from the MacDougall.”

“Bring him to me at once, and I’ll listen to what he has to say.”

“He said his message is for Bryce,” John informed them.

“The only news I want to hear is that Dungal is dead and buried.” Bryce spat on the ground.

“Bring the envoy here at once.” Robert issued his orders before addressing Bryce. “You must speak to the man. It is imperative we ascertain what Dungal is up to.”

“No good if you ask me,” Alasdair interjected and clasped his brother’s shoulder.

John returned a few minutes later with one of the MacDougall clansmen. “Bow and show your respect.” He shoved the man forward, causing him to stumble, then fall to his knees. “Deliver the message to King Robert and make it fast.”

A sneer tugged at the man’s lips. “I see no king before me. However, I do see a scoundrel and a murderer. But that matters not. My orders are to speak to Bryce Fraser and no one else. If he’ll not meet with me, I can return to my clan. He’ll only have himself to blame for the consequences.” The messenger stood and brushed the dirt from his trews.

“I’m Fraser.” Bryce stepped forward.

“Dungal bid me speak to you and no one else. He sent you a wee gift and a note, but I’ll not give it to you unless you agree to meet with me in private.” He patted his sporran, a cynical grin tugging at his lips. “If you dinna want it.”

Alasdair tackled the man and tugged the pouch from around his waist. He opened it and pulled out the scrap of plaid.

Bryce grabbed the item from Alasdair’s hand. The moment the fabric touched his skin, his throat tightened and he struggled to catch his breath. He cursed as he unfolded the tattered corners then closed his fist around what was inside.

“You look like a banshee crossed your path.” Alasdair peered over his brother’s shoulder. “What did he send?”

Bryce opened his hand and picked up the leather thong, broken where it would normally hang around a person’s neck. He let the star dangle, the emerald facets catching the sunlight.

“You’ve seen this before?” Alasdair asked.

Bryce nodded. “This belongs to Fallon, a gift from her mother. She gave it to me when we were at her uncle’s croft and bid me wear if for protection. I asked Maeve to give the pendant back to her when I left her in Turnberry.”

Alasdair grabbed the note, broke the seal, and read the contents before handing it back to Bryce.

“What does the missive say?” Robert asked.

Alasdair hesitated and dragged his hand across his chin before he spoke. “Dungal holds Fallon captive and threatens to kill her if we dare follow. He also states he will consider an exchange. Bryce’s life for hers.”

Bryce crumpled the note in his hand. “Bastards!” He lunged forward, his fingers encircling the messenger’s throat with a vise-like grip.

The man’s eyes bulged from their sockets and his face turned blue. Gasping for air and clawing frantically at Bryce’s hands, the messenger launched a fruitless attempt to break away.

“Stop. You’re killing him.” John tried to pry Bryce’s hands free, but he tightened his grip. “At least let us question him first.”

“One less MacDougall is fine with me. I’ve had my fill of the lot of them.” Bryce forced the man’s back against a nearby tree and continued his chokehold until Alasdair intervened.

“Go easy, brother. Your issue is with Dungal, not the messenger. Release him. His death will serve no purpose.” Alasdair lifted Bryce’s fingers from the man’s neck.

Bryce backed away as the man slid to the ground, clutching his throat. “You tell Dungal I will come for her. When I do, I’ll show him no mercy.” He turned abruptly and stomped toward his horse. “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.”

“I’ll not grant you leave,” Robert shouted after him.

“Try and stop me.”

“I’m your king. You’ve sworn your fealty to me, and I order you to stand fast. Try to run off and you’ll be arrested and hanged for treason.”

“Do as you wish, but I’ll not allow Fallon to spend one minute with that spineless blackguard than is necessary.” He fisted his hands in the horse’s mane and prepared to mount.

Alasdair caught Bryce from behind, lifted him off the ground, and trapped his arms at his side. “You’re upset and understandably so, but stop and think before you react. This is not the way to save Fallon. If anything, you’ll get her killed. Do as Robert says and stand down.”

“You read Dungal’s note. If I offer to swap my life for hers, he’ll release Fallon.” Bryce struggled to free himself, but to no avail. He had never been a match for his brother’s size and brute strength. “Let me go, you big ox. Fallon needs me. She is in danger, and I’m to blame. I willna let her down, I canna let her down. Why did I leave her in Turnberry?”

“Second guessing yourself will do no good. You canna predict the future, anymore than you can change the past. You must think this through.” Alasdair softened his voice, but his restraining embrace held firm. “Surrendering yourself over to Dungal won’t guarantee Fallon’s release. He canna be trusted.”

“I have to try.” Bryce stopped fighting and slumped into his brother’s arms. “Why does the Almighty see fit to put decent people in harm’s way? Fallon is an unselfish, gentle, giving woman, yet he allows a vile bastard like Dungal to breathe the same air and to take her captive. I shudder to think what has befallen her while in his clutches.” Memories of his past flooded his mind.

Alasdair released his hold on Bryce and stepped away. “I dinna believe the Lord deliberately puts good people in danger.”

“Doesn’t He?” Bryce whipped around with renewed anger. “He allows the English to raid our villages, to commit murder, and to violate our women. Or did what happened to our mother and our youngest brother slip your mind? Mam was with child and Evan had only seen eight summers when they were butchered by the English swine. Where was the Almighty’s mercy and wisdom then?”

Bryce paused long enough to draw in a gulp of air. “Mayhap the events at Berwick on Tweed escaped your memory as well. Our father and oldest brother cut down before our eyes, along with nearly eight thousand other innocents put to sword on that dreadful day. What about Ashlen?” His voice wavered when he said her name.

Alasdair’s jaw clenched. “I will never forget the events of those days. The memories are forever etched in my mind. We will find a way to rescue Fallon, but not until we have devised a sound plan of recourse. Can you at least give me that?”

“I’ll award you a few minutes, but no more. Fallon’s life might depend on our speed.” He glared over Alasdair’s shoulder at Robert. “I intend to go after her, regardless of the consequences. Her welfare may be of little concern to you and her death willna influence the outcome of the war, but she is important to me. I’ll not sit idly by and allow that blackguard to harm the woman who might someday be the mother of my bairns.” He let the words slip out before he could hold his tongue.

Alasdair’s jaw dropped open. “Are my ears deceiving me, or did you just say you wanted Fallon to bear your babes? Sounds like a man in love to me. Now I’m sure you’ve lost your mind.”

Bryce didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged his hand across the back of his neck, and turned away. In his anger, he’d allowed his true feelings for Fallon to rise to the surface, and God willing, he’d have the chance to make amends for being such a fool. But he had to find her before it was too late. He stiffened his posture and glared at his brother.

“We are wasting precious time. I am going after Fallon with or without your help. The Lord had best protect anyone who attempts to stop me,” Bryce challenged.

“I’ve got your back, brother, if any man tries,” Alasdair announced.

“I’ll stand by you as well.” John stepped forward.

“And I.” James pulled his sword from its sheath and waved the weapon in the air.

“I’m not an unreasonable man or the heartless bastard you think I am. Threats of imprisonment and execution dinna deter you, so there is no choice but to concede. However—” Robert raised his hand. “I intend to engage the English three days hence and there are preparations to make. I canna spare all of my best warriors.”

“I will go alone if need be.” Bryce balled his fists at his side and began to pace. “Too many lives have already been forfeited and I’ll not permit Fallon’s death to be added to the list.”

Robert ran his hand over his chin before he responded. “Select ten men to accompany you. Alasdair may go, but I need John and James to remain behind. God willing, you’ll eliminate some of the blackguard’s men along the way. Take any longer than two days, and we’ll be gone by the time you get back.”

Bryce gave a curt nod. “Our endeavor will be fruitful, and Fallon will be with us when we return. If there is justice to be had, I’ll present Dungal’s head to you on a pike.”

“Be off with you, and may the Almighty guide your path.” Robert turned and strode away.

“I’ll ask for volunteers and bid them join you immediately.” James trotted off to gather the men.

“While he is doing that, I’ll arrange for supplies.” John followed in James’ footsteps.

Bryce moved to his horse, but rather than mounting, he rested his forehead on the animal’s neck. “Do you think this a fool’s errand? I dinna even know if she is still alive.”

“What does your gut tell you, brother?” Alasdair placed his hand on Bryce’s back.

“She’s alive. I canna explain how I know, I just do. But I am also certain if we dinna find her soon, it will be too late.” Bryce swung his leg over the horse’s back and pulled himself into the saddle. “I’ll ride ahead and you can join me when the others arrive.” He pressed his heel to the horse’s flank, but Alasdair grabbed the reins and held the beast steady.

“Either you wait for the men and supplies, Bryce, or you dinna go at all. If I have to tie you to yonder tree, I will. Ever since the lass came back into your life, you’ve been distracted. You are not usually so careless. It goes to show that women are more trouble than they are worth. We depart together. A few minutes canna make that much difference.”

“I hope you’re right, brother. I hope you’re right.”

The journey was short, their horses swift. As they neared the last reported location of the MacDougall’s camp, Bryce slowed his horse, and ordered the men to keep their voices low, their conversation to a minimum.

Uneasiness tugged at Bryce’s stomach. The fact they had traveled this far without a challenge was both odd and unsettling.

“The Bruce’s informant gave us directions, but we have yet to come across a camp or anyone guarding the path. Something is amiss.” Unable to stand the uncertainty, Bryce kicked his horse into a gallop, leaving his brother and the other warriors behind in a cloud of dust.

Alasdair’s curse carried on the breeze, but Bryce refused to slow his pace, or to turn around. With reckless disregard for his own safety, he sped along the trail, coming to an abrupt halt when he entered what he assumed had been Dungal’s encampment.

He slid from the saddle and stood in the middle of the deserted clearing. A spattering of hot embers glowed in the fire pit, but the exact time of their departure was difficult to determine.

The echo of thundering hooves approaching fast caused Bryce to draw his sword and spin around in the direction of the noise. Was it Alasdair, or was this a trap? Prepared to fight, he widened his stance, then inhaled a fortifying breath.

Bryce narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed, his reflexes keen. Relief washed over him and he sheathed his blade when Alasdair and their companions entered the clearing.

“Have you totally lost all of your God-given senses?” Alasdair shouted. “You could have been riding into an ambush. Hell, Bryce, I could be scraping what was left of you off the ground had Dungal been lying in wait.”