Highlander’s Evil Side by Shona Thompson

Chapter Thirty-One

Fraser

Fraser groaned, his head swaying from side to side as he sat in the cave. Torches flickered around him. The sound of boots hitting stone made him lift his head, open his eyes. He blinked, his body shivering as Murdo appeared before him.

Several men gathered around Murdo, pointing their swords at Fraser. Kenneth and Gavin were bound together in the corner of the cave. Gavin’s head hung. His eyes were closed, and his breath was coming out in pants. Fraser worried he had the fever, that his injury was worsening with infection.

“Please,” Fraser croaked. “Let us go.”

Murdo chuckled while crouching in front of Fraser, holding up a torch to get a better view of his face. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Fraser stilled. “Why?” he whispered, knowing he would hate the answer. There was something crazed in Murdo’s gaze, something that made Fraser’s blood run cold and his stomach seize. Yet, no matter how nauseous Fraser felt, there was nothing in him to retch.

“Why?” Murdo laughed. “Yer to be married, of course, A lucky lad ye are. The men tell me she’s a bonnie lass indeed.” Murdo groaned while rising. “It won’t be long now.”

“Married?” Fraser whispered. “But, the wedding isn’t—”

Murdo crossed his arms. “The wedding is whenever Laird MacClery says it is.”

“Please,” Fraser begged. “Don’t do this. I can pardon ye. If ye release us, I will let ye go. Just let me return to my people. Let me save Beitris. She needs my help. I have to get to her.”

Murdo scoffed. “Let ye go? Pardon me?” He shrugged. “I’m fine where I’m at, lad. I don’t need yer pardons. They will do nae good for me.”

Fraser grimaced as he felt desperation seep into him. “Please,” he begged. “There must be something I can do. Anything. I will give ye anything.”

Murdo chuckled and craned his head towards Fraser. “Can ye give me Hendry’s head?”

Fraser grimaced while Murdo clucked his tongue.

“I suppose ye can’t now, can ye? Laird’s honor, or something dull and boring like that.” Murdo sighed while picking the dirt from his nails. “I suppose I would rather cut it from his neck me self.” He shook his head and sighed. “Nae, there is naething ye can do for me lad. The only thing that can satisfy me is seeing the Dunbar Clan destroyed and Hendry’s head on a pike. That lad thinks he can best me. He thinks I’m long gone.” Murdo flashed a wicked grin. “He has another thing coming.”

“And Finnegan has offered to help ye?” Fraser wiggled in his confines.

The rope was biting into his skin, but there was a sharp rock behind him. Fraser focused on rubbing the rope against it, feeling it fray. If he kept Murdo talking, he could probably cut through them without the elder brigand noticing. He glanced at the guards standing behind Murdo. They scowled back at him. Fraser stopped moving, worried they would notice. He needed to be careful, move slowly so they wouldn’t move him. Once he was free, he would need to get to a sword, but even then, he was outnumbered. There had to be a way out.

Murdo nodded vigorously. “Of course he has. Once he’s laird, we’ll burn Hendry’s clan to the ground, which is exactly where it should be after all these years.”

Fraser frowned. Something flickered in the distance, and the sound of water splashing jerked the guard’s attention towards the entrance of the cave. One walked along the stone path, disappearing into the darkness.

“But why?” Fraser asked, his tone desperate while he continued rubbing the rope against the stone. “Isn’t Hendry married to yer daughter? Why would ye want to harm her husband? Don’t ye care for the lass?”

Murdo laughed bitterly. “She’s nae daughter of mine. Not anymore. I have more love for the dirt under my boots than a scrawny little vermin like her.”

Fraser sighed when the rope wouldn’t give. He leaned his head against the stone. His tongue was dry. His body ached. He didn’t know how many days passed since he was taken, if any at all, but he knew it must have been at least a day. A day without water and bread. His stomach gurgled angrily in reply.

“Why don’t ye kill me?” Fraser asked. “If ye have nae use for me, why don’t ye be rid of me?”

Another splash sounded, and Murdo jerked around, scowling at the darkness. “Go see to that,” he said gruffly to his guard.

“Aye, Sire,” said the guard earnestly while stepping onto the path.

Murdo turned back to Fraser. He crouched low and leaned towards Fraser. “Because yer worth more alive than dead.”

Fraser’s brow tented in confusion. “I thought I was to be sent to the New World if I’m to live?”

Murdo scoffed. “I’ve worked with Finnegan longer than I have ought to. I know the lad well. We’re more alike than not, him and I.” Murdo chuckled. “If he stabs me in the back, I have something to use against him.” Murdo pointed at Fraser. “I suppose he wouldn’t want an imposter haunting his walls and whispering to his villagers nor anything of the like he’s put ye through.”

Something flashed in the distance, and Fraser sat up straighter, wondering if it was the guards returning from their scout. However, their forms looked longer. Their swords were drawn. Murdo followed Fraser’s gaze, his eyes narrowing and his hand hovering above his hilt.

“Who’s there?” Murdo called. “Boyd? Malcolm? Is that ye?”

“Boyd?” called a haughty voice Fraser did not recognize.

Red hair glimmered in the torchlight, and one blue eye stared back at Fraser, the other covered by a black eyepatch. The man was dressed in Dunbar colors. He twirled his sword, the tip stained with blood, and smirked at Murdo.

“Is that who ye think me be after all this time?” the man said, lowering into a low fighting stance. “I thought ye would remember me. How unfortunate.”

“Hendry Dunbar,” Murdo whispered, horror splayed across the elder man’s face. “How-Why—”

Scott stepped into view, pointing his sword at Murdo’s neck. “Take nae step further,” he said. His gaze flicked to Fraser, and he sighed in relief. “Yer alive.”

“For now,” Murdo muttered.

“Beitris wrote to me,” said Hendry while edging towards Murdo. “Somehow, I knew if I found ye, I would find Laird MacClery.” Hendry held up a coin, the edge melted on the right corner. “As soon as Scott showed me this, I knew ye were involved.” Hendry tossed the coin into the air. It landed in front of Murdo’s feet. The elder man didn’t bother to pick it up. He scowled at Hendry while unsheathing his sword. “It was foolish of ye to return here, Murdo.”

“I didn’t think the likes of ye would get involved.” Murdo ground his teeth, his gaze flicking between Hendry, Scott, and Fraser. His hands fisted, his arms shaking with anger and worry. “Ye couldn’t stay well enough away,” Murdo spat while lunging, striking his sword against Hendry’s while waving his torch in the laird’s face.

Hendry gasped, jumping back and swing his sword against Murdo’s. “I told ye long ago to stop this nonsense.” Hendry slammed his sword against Murdo’s and kicked, his boot hitting Murdo in the gut.

Murdo stumbled backward, dropping his torch onto the stone floor. “Never,” he rasped. “I will not stop until the Dunbars burn. Until all of the highlands burn.”

Scott moved, running towards Fraser. “Apologies, my laird, for taking so long,” he said while crouching and taking out a short blade from his boot, cutting quickly at the rope binding Fraser’s arms. “But I knew there was something wrong the moment yer double returned. I know ye better than he thought, apparently.”

“None at all.” Fraser wiggled his wrists, the ropes falling away. “‘Tis good to know ye always have my back, Scott.” He stumbled to standing, using the wall behind him as support. His body was weak from lack of food and water. He didn’t know how much help he could be to Hendry. Groaning, he watched Scott run to Gavin and Kenneth, cutting at their binds and helping them up.

Fraser searched for a sword, wanting to help Hendry, despite how weak he felt. The clash of metal against metal echoed through the cavern. Hendry was fast, moving gracefully. Water splashed around them as they moved away from the stone path.

“I gave ye a chance, old man,” said Hendry. “Why couldn’t ye let it go? Why couldn’t ye start anew?”

Murdo scoffed. “I will never move on. Naething will bring me more pleasure than seeing yer demise.”

“Ye have a family. Peigi and I—” Hendry bit back his words, and Fraser could see the pain lurking in his gaze. “Nevermind. I suppose ye don’t care.”

Murdo chuckled. “Yer right, Laird Dunbar. I don’t.”

Hendry twirled his sword. Murdo lunged, but Hendry sidestepped him, kicking up water that got in the elder’s eye. Murdo roared, his eyes clamping shut against the salt stinging his gaze.

“I will destroy ye!” Murdo shouted. “Ye and yer whole family. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I will take everything ye love.” Murdo opened his bloodshot eyes and swiped his sword.

Hendry lowered into a fighting stance. “Then let us finish this now.”

Murdo shouted, lunging forward and swinging his sword, but Hendry blocked him easily. With one move, Hendry sliced his sword through Murdo. He gasped, stepping backward and onto the stone. Murdo swung his sword, but all it struck was air. He coughed, and blood spattered onto his chin. His sword fell, clanging on the ground. He doubled over, clutching at his wound while looking around, wide-eyed and confused.

“I will- I will,” he gasped, more blood spilling from his mouth while he fell to his knees. He scowled up at Hendry. “Curse ye, Dunbar.” He grimaced, falling forward onto his stomach. His hand reached for his sword, his body crawling towards it. His fingers touched his hilt, but they were unable to grasp his blade. He twitched, his eyes staring up at Hendry before all life left his gaze.

Hendry crouched low, staring at Murdo with a pained expression. He shook his head, muttering something Fraser didn’t quite catch under his breath. Rising, he turned to Fraser. “We must move quickly, MacClery.”

“Is Beitris alright?” Fraser asked as he ran after them through the cave.

Gavin groaned, his hand clutching at his shoulder while Kenneth helped him through the water.

“I pray she is, my laird,” said Scott. “But I do not know. I left as soon as I could.”

Fraser grimaced while holding a hand up to his face as the sunlight blinded his vision. His gaze drifted to the dirt path, finding several of Murdo’s men lying in their own blood. The seawater was rising, and soon their bodies would be hidden from view as well as the cave. Looking around, Fraser’s men were gone, all except for Gavin and Kenneth, who stood at his side waiting for his orders. His horse was gone. His sword was taken. Hendry’s men stood at attention, waiting for instruction.

“Hurry, my laird,” said Scott, quickly mounting his horse and holding out a hand for Fraser to take. “Before it’s too late.”

“It just may be,” Fraser breathed while staring out at the sea and the sun hovering above it. He pushed away the desperation, the loss demanding to take hold of him. All was not lost, he told himself. He could still do something. He could still save Beitris.

Fraser took Scott’s hand and gracefully pulled his body onto the horse behind his guard. He was vaguely aware of Kenneth and Gavin being aided by Hendry’s men. They urged forward, galloping up the harsh terrain and into the fields. He was so happy Beitris had written Hendry, had asked for help, but he didn’t know if it would be enough. He didn’t know if he would return to Castle Dunnegan in time.