The Silent Highlander by Donna Fletcher

Chapter 12

Had it been two days or three? Or was it four? Elysia had lost count. The wounded had arrived day after day. Those who suffered no serious wounds were forced to return to battle. Some men, those not used to battle, begged her to leave their wounds fearful of being sent back to battle. Others, the warriors among them, urged her to patch them up, eager to return to the battlefield. And a few did, though it was unwise of them, and Elysia expected some would return wounded yet again while the battlefield would claim the others.

She was exhausted and she barely had time to eat. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Every time a batch of wounded arrived she feared Saber would be among them, wounded beyond her help.

“You need to eat and rest,” Lendra scolded, handing her a tankard.

Elysia cupped her hands around it and sipped, grateful for the hot brew. “I have no time.”

“You’ll have no time when you collapse,” Lendra warned.

“There are only two or three more who need my attention, then I will rest.”

“And eat,” Lendra insisted.

Elysia’s stomach answered for her, rumbling, and she nodded. “And eat.”

She didn’t mention Bram to Lendra, Elysia had heard Bram returned to battle and it explained why Lendra frantically searched the faces of the wounded, just as she did, each time a batch arrived at the keep.

“Need help here!”

The frantic shout had Elysia and Lendra turning, and Lendra gasping.

Rory stood bracing Bram up with his shoulder. Blood marred both men.

Elysia and Lendra ran to them.

“He has a wound to his arm and collapsed on the field. I brought him straight here,” Rory said as the two women helped get Bram onto a table.

“And you? Are you wounded?” Elysia asked.

“A minor leg wound that needs patching, then I’ll be on my way back. See to Bram first while I engage in some needful drinking,” Rory said and hurried off to a table that had been set with food and drink for whoever was in need.

“My chest pains me,” Bram moaned.

“And so it should, you fool,” Lendra chastised, though worry creased her brow.

A quick press to his chest told Elysia what she had suspected that his wound had yet to heal sufficiently for him to swing a sword. Thankfully the wound to his arm was not severe, but would require healing time.

“You’re not healed enough to fight and now with the wound to your arm, you won’t be fighting for some time,” Elysia said. “Unless, of course, you want to die or never be able to fight again.”

“I’m strong,” Bram snarled.

“It’s not about strength, Bram. It’s about being wise enough to remain strong,” Elysia said. “You might not be able to be on the battlefield right now, but there is much you can do here to protect the clan.”

“I haven’t seen Saber,” Bram said abruptly. “But more than one battle rages. He could be fighting there.”

It was a peace offering, Bram telling her about Saber without her asking and Elysia took it. “Thank you, Bram. Now let me see to your wound, then you can rest and, when feeling well enough, discuss with the men here what might be done to fortify the clan against any possible attack.”

“The enemy of the MacBridan wouldn’t dare come here,” Bram boasted.

“Is that a chance you wish to take?” Lendra snapped.

Elysia set to work on the wound to Bram’s arm while he and Lendra argued. They were still arguing when she finished and went to see to Rory’s wound.

Rory smacked his lips after drinking the last drop of ale from his tankard and wasted no time in filling it again. He moved his leg out from under the table, swinging it over the bench for Elysia to look at.

“Minor wound,” he announced, though not before gulping down nearly half the tankard.

First glance told her he was right.

“Fix it up and I’ll be on my way,” Rory said.

“Is there any end in sight to this feud?” she asked as she tended his wound.

“The MacFarden are fools. They thought because the cursed one was nowhere in sight that they had a chance to claim some MacBridan land. Even more foolish is that two neighboring clans joined them in their senseless effort. They poked the wrong clan, though I should say they poked the curse and will now suffer for it. Both clans will lose their lands to the Clan MacBridan, a clan that grows ever stronger.” Rory downed some more ale, dragging his shirtsleeve across his mouth when done. “Lord Odran and the other two cursed lords will never be free of that bloody curse and all they touch will suffer for it.”

He leaned his head down to Elysia as she finished dressing his wound and she almost drew back as his breath was so heavy with ale.

“The curse doesn’t care if you’re kind or innocent. It will get you any way it can. Be careful, Elysia.” He turned and filled his tankard once again.

* * *

Elysia wincedwhen she stretched awake. The amount of wounded men who had arrived in the last few days had dwindled considerably. She hoped it meant that the battle was waning and would soon end. With more time, she was able to visit with the wounded more frequently and was pleased that many were doing well.

She threw the blanket off herself and hurried to the hearth to add wood and warm the cottage that had chilled as the fire died down throughout the night. She set a brew to heat, then hurried into warm garments and after giving her hair a good combing, she secured it with two combs.

With a tankard of a soothing brew in hand, she sat at the table, her shoulders slumping. She didn’t need more time to confirm for certain what she believed—she was with child. She had no desire for food in the morning, her stomach often churning, though she hadn’t been sick like many women and it was two months without her monthly bleed.

Her hand rested on her stomach and she caressed it gently. Part of her was thrilled that she carried Saber’s child and another part worried what her husband would say no matter how many times she told herself he loved her and would be pleased.

A soft tap at the door chased the worrisome thought and she opened it to find a young lad she didn’t recognize, no more than ten or twelve years, standing there. His garments were worn and in dire need of a washing, as was he. His hair looked to have been badly chopped, it sticking out here and there in tufts. He reached up with a grimy hand to rub the back of it under his nose, leaving a streak of wetness through the grime.

“You Elysia, sister of Annis?” he asked in a whisper.

Elysia’s heart pounded in her chest. “I am.”

“I’m Dugan. Annis sent me with a message. She told me to show you this but you ain’t taking it from me. She promised it to me, though she did say you’d feed me.” He held up one of the coins Annis had taken with her.

“Annis gave it to you, then it’s yours. But before you enter my home, you will fill that bucket,”—she pointed to the bench where the bucket sat— “with water from the rain barrel and wash your face and hands. Then you will come inside and deliver my sister’s message while I get you some food.”

Dugan looked about to protest.

“I have honey oat cakes you might like,” Elysia said.

“I’ll wash up and be right there,” Dugan said and hurried to fill the bucket.

Elysia was surprised to see the dirt had hidden the lad’s fine features and she was glad to see that his hands were scrubbed cleaned.

“Help yourself,” she said with a nod to the bowl of honey oat cakes on the table.

His hand snatched one right up and his eyes went wide when she placed meat, cheese, and bread on the table. Lendra, and many of the women whose men she had helped, had been keeping her well supplied with food, not that she’d been eating much.

Elysia could see the lad was hungry, his skinny body a good sign that he didn’t get to eat often. It made her wonder why he hadn’t spent the coin on food for himself.

“Annis is great. She saved me from getting a good beating,” he said through the food he shoveled into his mouth, one piece after another.

“Slow down or you’ll make yourself sick,” Elysia said, seeing that the lad was more than hungry, he was starving. “You can have as much as you want.” She filled a tankard with cider and placed it in front of him. He gulped it down.

“Can I take some food with me?” he asked anxiously.

“Aye, you can,” Elysia assured him.

“Thanks, my mum will be grateful. It’s only her and me and we don’t have much.” He shoveled more food into his mouth.

Elysia held her hand up when he went to continue to talk. “Eat first, then we can talk.”

Dugan nodded. “Thanks, I’m awfully hungry. How about you?”

“I ate,” she said, though she hadn’t. She had little appetite when she woke and she was too anxious to know about Annis to even think of eating.

He nodded and continued eating. When he finally slowed down, he said, “I better deliver Annis’s message as promised since I’ve got to get home to my mum.”

“Tell me,” Elysia said, eager to hear.

“Annis says that all goes well and she is sure her mission will be successful and not to worry,” Dugan said.

Elysia heard what no one else would. If all was going well then something had happened that made Annis believe her mission would be successful. The message gave her hope.

“Annis is well?” she asked.

“She got a black eye saving me. He grinned wide. “But that guy with her sure made the fellow pay for it. The women can’t take their eyes off him but he can’t take his eyes off your sister. They’re a funny pair.”

Brogan was with Annis.

Elysia couldn’t be happier and more relieved to know Annis was not on her own. She didn’t know how Brogan happened to be with her, but it didn’t matter—he was there with her. She had someone to protect her.

“I need to go. I need to get to my mum,” Dugan said, standing.

“Let me get some food together for you,” Elysia said and sensed worry whenever he spoke about his mum. “You and your mum are welcome here in the clan. You’ll have food and shelter and, of course, your fair share of chores.”

Dugan’s eyes turned wide. “You mean that?”

“I do and I will help you and your mum any way I can,” Elysia offered.

“I’m strong. I can do any chore you give me,” Dugan said, puffing out his skinny chest.

“I’m sure you can, Dugan.” She handed him a sack packed with a good amount of food.

He went to grab it, then stopped. “What about you? You have enough food?”

Only someone who knew hunger would ask that of another and his concern touched her heart. “I have more than enough. Now go to your mum and don’t forget you’re both welcome to call Clan Loudon home.”

“Thanks,” he said and hurried to the door to rush out, though stopped suddenly and turned. “Thanks. Thanks so much.”

“Thank you, Dugan, for the message from my sister. It means a lot to me.”

Dugan smiled, his chest puffing out again with pride. He smiled, gave a nod, and was gone.

* * *

Elysia walkedthrough the village toward her cottage. It had been a busy morning. After Dugan had left she had begun making her rounds of the wounded. Some men had healed quickly while others more slowly, but at least none had died. She feared losing even one of them, especially since they had fought so hard to live and their families had fought so hard to keep them alive.

Rain was imminent with the dark gray skies hovering overhead and she hastened her pace looking forward to doing some stitching for herself. Her cloak had suffered some tears as well as her shawl and her two tunics had several tears in them as well. She had to repair them soon or it would not be long before they were beyond repair.

“ATTACK! ATTACK!”

Elysia froze hearing the sudden and frantic warning shouts.

Men, young and old alike, ran out of the cottages, weapon in hand. Women scooped up bairns whether they belonged to them or not and ran to the woods. And those wounded, who were able, also wielded weapons.

Bram bolted out of Lendra’s cottage and seeing Elysia, shouted, “Get to the keep. You will be needed.”

Elysia nodded and was about to run when a troop of warriors rained down on the village with a tremendous roar. She ducked behind the nearest cottage to keep out of sight and try to make her way to the keep.

Warriors on horses pounded the earth and warriors on foot followed. Swords clashed, men cried out in pain, women in horror, and Elysia shut her eyes against the dreadful sounds. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, ready to run and get to the keep. She would be needed. There would be many to help.

She peeked around the corner of the cottage and felt her stomach roil at the chaotic fighting and blood, far too much blood. She was about to try and slip behind another cottage to get closer to the keep when she spotted Kevin felled by a heavy blow.

Elysia didn’t hesitate, she darted between cottages to get closer, then darted out when an opening presented itself. When she finally managed to reach him, Elysia yanked her cloak off and tore a strip off the edge to wipe the blood off Kevin’s face and see to his wound. It came from a slash in his head. It wasn’t deep and she remembered Bliss saying that head wounds bled a lot and if not deep, not a worry, though if the person didn’t wake soon, then it didn’t always bode well for survival.

With men fighting not far from them, she hurried to wrap the wound with a fresh strip of cloth from her cloak and was relieved when Kevin moved his head.

“Kevin, it’s Elysia. You need to move now.”

He groaned. “How bad?’

“A head wound that is not as bad as it seems. Now up on your feet,” she urged, slipping her arm beneath his shoulder.

“Brit? Lenis?” he asked anxiously as he struggled to his feet with her help.

“Probably in the woods with the other wives and children.” She tightened her grip on him and got him walking. Once behind a cottage, safely out of sight, she braced him against it. “Gather your strength and I’ll help you to the woods.”

He shook his head and winced.

“Don’t be foolish to think you can return to fight. Go find the women and children and protect them,” Elysia said

“Come with me,” Kevin urged.

“I’ll get you to the woods, but I must return. I’m needed here. I’ll bring more wounded to you if I can,” Elysia said.

Kevin managed a brief nod and leaned heavily on Elysia as they made their way to the woods. Brit ran out to meet them when they reached the edge and took hold of her husband, tears running down her cheeks.

“He’s fine, Brit. He’s a bit dizzy and disoriented, but otherwise he is good,” Elysia assured the worried woman. “I’ll bring more wounded to you if possible.”

Brit nodded and was about to thank her for saving Kevin, but Elysia had already turned away and had taken off into the heart of the fighting.

Not a moment was lost to thought, Elysia immediately got busy, dodging the fighting to get to the wounded. It was one time her petite size worked well for her. Her heart ached for the men too seriously wounded to move. She did what she could for them and prayed it was enough to help them hold on until this madness ended. She did manage to get four wounded men to the woods, leaving the women there to tend them, according to her instructions.

It seemed like the attack went on forever, seeing man after man fall as the stench of battle grew heavy and the cries of the wounded and dying grew never-ending. Sounds, she feared, she’d never stop hearing. Yet, it was only a short time since the battle had begun and Elysia feared what time would bring.

A sudden roar pierced the air like a mighty clap of thunder and all fighting ceased for a moment and in that brief moment a horde of fierce warriors descended on the village. Some of the faces were smeared with white and blue streaks, others wore leather or metal helmets. The powerful horde raged through the village, slicing the enemy down one after the other, pushing women aside who were trying to help the wounded, and leaving mayhem in their wake.

“THE CURSED ONE!” a warrior screamed.

Fear struck Elysia as sharp as an arrow and she braced herself against the side of a cottage, the fighting fiercer than she ever thought possible and leaving her little room to dodge the swords and axes that swung endlessly.

Some of the enemy warriors continued fighting while others ran, but most didn’t get the chance. They lost their lives to the horde who fought like savages. She wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes against the madness, a foolish thought she wisely ignored. Though, she regretted not doing so in the next instant when she spotted the warrior atop a black stallion. There was no doubt who he was—the cursed one.

He was huge. Black leather covered his broad chest and his thick muscled arms were bare. A metal helmet covered his head and partially his face, a metal strip running protectively down over his nose. Even from a distance one could see the intense madness in his eyes as he felled men one after the other with a single swing of his double-sided axe.

She had to remind herself that he was not the enemy. He was there to help them. He would win this battle for Clan Loudon. Or did he win it for himself?

Elysia yelped, her hair yanked so hard she stumbled back.

“You’re coming with me,” a man said, tugging her tight against him. “I’ve watched you help the wounded. You’ll help me and my men.”

She had little choice as he forced her to walk around to the front of the cottages. She knew his intention. He was trying to get to the woods on the other side of the path that ran through the village. Somehow she had to get away from him before they reached the woods.

When his men saw him, they fought to cut an open path for him. He kept a painfully tight grip on her arm as he shoved her along. They were nearly in the center of the path when a vicious roar filled the air that sent the dogs howling. She was forced to an abrupt stop when the man suddenly halted and she looked to see why.

Her breath caught and she thought for sure her heart stopped beating. Fear rumbled through her at the sight of the cursed one charging toward them on his black stallion, a double-sided axe in his raised hand and his eyes glaring with the fires of hell.

Not one enemy warrior tried to stop him. They all ran from him, including the one holding her. He released her arm with haste, shoving her roughly and sending her stumbling to land on her bottom as he took off running.

The black stallion flew past her, the rider raising his weapon, the thick muscles in his arm growing tighter as he prepared to strike. She hastily turned her head as the double-sided blade swung with tremendous force, her stomach turning at what he was about to do.

Elysia sat on the ground frozen, too shocked to move. She regretted taking a quick peek and seeing the headless corpse and that the cursed one had turned his stallion and was heading straight at her. The sight of him scared the wits out of her. He appeared like a demon rising from the depths of hell ready to devour everything in his path. Instinct told her to run but instinct also had her turning her head. The enemy was retreating in full force and was headed straight toward her, weapons raised.

Both were gaining on her and she hurried to her feet, not sure what to do. The madman on the stallion leaned to the side, his arm hooked out to snatch her up. She told herself he was not the enemy and either instinct or wisdom made the choice for her. Her arms shot up in the air and she braced herself to be caught by the cursed one.