Blood of the Clans

Chapter 1

April 1589 -- Loch Leven

The drenching rains fell heavy as they often do in spring, in the western highlands of Scotland. Through the trees in the early morning, grey haze, a flash of lightning illuminated the murderous eyes of a small army of clansmen peering upon the sleeping village. The evil in the eyes of the leader showed the mindset on carrying out the events about to happen.

They made their way into Ballachulish on the south shores of Loch Leven, the thrumming of rain on rooftops and puddles, covering their sound. Claymores, dirks and axes at the ready, the filthy, sodden men in poor highland garb, waited for the leader's signal, then entered one dwelling after another, slaughtering all who were inside, save a few young women for the men to enjoy later, the spoils of their one-sided war. Men and women, elderly and babies, any who lay sleeping in their beds, had their dreams and lives smashed from their skulls, staining the bed robes with lifeblood, the result of one man's greed.

Screams of terror pealed into the damp air, as blades continued to wipe away any sign of life in the village. Before the wan, morning sun had made an attempt to brighten the gloom, only nine souls of Ballachulish were still alive. One soul, Callum McInnis, had secreted himself out of the village to safety, then skulked away in silence and regret to tell of what happened, while the other eight would soon wish their lives hadn't been spared.

One of those eight was Mary MacKinnon, a season left to be eighteen years, who lived with her parents in the small village and worked the kelp with them. Till today, her life was spent dreaming of marriage and children of her own and a good man to call her husband. One man who held her favour as that choice, was Callum, who now watched in dread, as her sod hut was entered by four men.

Standing now in front of the low fire in the hearth, with four vile men, had left her paralysed with fear and apprehension. In the dim light, she saw the glimmer of light play on the pools of blood trailing from her parents bed, her stomach churning at the sight. A bright flash came up to her face, the glint off sharp steel running along the razor edge caught her attention and quickened her breath, filling her with fear. The soaking stench of the man consumed her with disgust, but the hand catching her nightdress brought about great dread. It took only a few seconds of keen slicing and Mary felt all the shame she had ever known, yet it wasn't close to how she would feel by the end of her ordeal. Her rounded breasts flushed fast and hard, as her embarrassment soared further, her unknown body about to be plundered for its wealth.

Lust-starved eyes gazed at her for a moment, taking in the prize for victory, before rough, bloody hands grabbed her arms and held her fast. The one before her held his hands out and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard, feeling the youthful firmness. In painful re-action, Mary kicked out and caught the man in his groin, stopping him instantly, but only for a moment. In as fast a response, Mary saw the world disappear and become a blurry smear of blood, as his fist brought her face into excruciating pain, by shattering her nose.

With the fight taken out of her, her head reeling from the blow, Mary barely felt her legs being kicked apart, a rough hand pawing at her virginal sex and then her once prized maidenhead, shattered in searing pain. The feel of his manhood inside her, left her filled with such disgust, that her stomach emptied last night's meal, the sight not even discouraging her violator's needs, as he brought himself to fulfilment. The feeling of his hot seed filling her womb made her feel damned for eternity and the brief moment of him withdrawing, gave her a sense of relief, only to be repeated shortly once again.

She was passed to the next, bent over retching and entered once again in demanded fulfilment by a hardened appendage. In the far off recesses of her consciousness, she could hear the others crying out their pain at their own defilement, adding to her misery, as she knew who they might be. Her head was raised by a handful of her hair and she saw the remains of her virginity coating the still hard cock of her first violator, before he forced it into her mouth and made her clean it and she knew there was no redemption for her soul.

Once more she felt the wretched warmth coating her inside and her mind submitted, giving over to their needs without protest, as she waited for the finish to it and her desired death, to rid her of the shame and humiliation her life had just become. A huge man with long, unkempt, brown hair and beard, soaked from the rain, stood in the doorway, his cloak and kilt dripping with rain and blood, watching the men enjoy themselves and smiled. He looked at the naked, young girl and hoped she lasted long enough to satisfy his men's needs. This village was now in dire need of young women to serve them and do work, but there was no worry of it. There were plenty of small communes of farms and fishing villages around the area to acquire women of the right age for their purposes. There wasn't a worry of protest from any of their fathers or husbands, as death was measured out in consequence of their actions if they did.

James MacRae, leader of the MacRae clan, laughed, as he watched his men enjoying themselves defiling and humiliating the young woman. He waited till every man had his fill of sex, fuelled by blood lust, then had them collect the bodies and limbs and pile them in the shoddily constructed hay loft. The eight, young girls, naked and violated, were brought to watch their savagely killed families be disposed of, despite their pleas for mercy to be spared such a sight.

As the rains subsided, the men tossed their torches around the inside of the building and in no time, it was engulfed in flames. Mary saw the bloodied faces of her parents among the growing flames and without anything more than a moment's thought, wrenched herself free and ran for the hayloft and into the burning pyre where her parents were, engulfing her bare, defiled body in flames. No honour or respect was paid to the dead by them. Once killed by their hands, disposal of their bodies was the only thing they desired to do. James laughed at what he saw her do, then heard the terrified screams from the other girls and laughed harder, before walking away from the inferno. The meagre possessions found, were divided among the invading clan, supplying the profits of battle that was now theirs to claim as won.

James looked about at the new lands of the MacRae's and felt powerful. They had been without a land of their own for hundreds of years, never having enough of a force of their own to maintain a hold on their once prized castle and Seat of Power. After joining with several other small clans, James MacRae had amassed an army of four hundred and fifty men, looking for a place to call home. Ballachulish would do for now, but James MacRae wanted a castle and had one in mind. A three day march to the north, would find them at the bridge to Eilean Donan, once a place they called home.

Five days passed and the peaceful village had become a place of evil, as young women were brought in by any means, to serve the men's needs. Any who tried to escape were stripped bare and flogged publicly in front of the others to show them what awaited, should the idea of escaping cross their minds.

One unfortunate soul was hanging unconscious from a tree limb by her hands, barely alive, her naked body covered in striped welts from her breasts to her thighs, front and back. Blood oozed from numerous stripes, making crisscrossing rivulets down her body. Flies and other insects flitted about her body, feasting on her life force, as she clung to life. No one cared that she had only been married for a month and was now with child. Her purpose was to serve and she disobeyed.

Three men set out on horse back, led by Blair MacRae and passed her suspended body as they rode out of the village. Their purpose was to watch and take note of what happened at the castle, the way they had here in this place. Covertly, they observed the daily routines of the MacDonnell's for two weeks, as they went about their lives, unaware they were about to be changed and thrown into bloody battle. They had met Laird Hamish MacDonnell, his wife Lady Anne and their children, telling them how grand their castle was and what a fine clan they were, one they would be proud to be kin to.

Once satisfied with enough information, Blair and the men rode back to Ballachulish and reported to his father what they had seen. With only twelve men guarding the castle, they could surprise them with an early morning raid and take control, while most were still abed. Two days from now was market time and the gates would be opened early for villagers bringing crops and livestock in to pay for taxes, or sell and trade.

MacRae took no time to assemble the men and start the three day march north, while Blair and nineteen others sailed a stolen birlinn out of Loch Leven, then south along Loch Linnhe. Their goal was to reach Donan in the night and wait in ambush till the gates opened. The advancing force would secret into the castle and take it over by surprise, the defenceless MacDonnell's being taken with their guard down. If they took it, they knew they could hold it until James and the army came and secured it. Once in, they were never going to leave again.