Blood of the Clans Ch. 47

"Look back there. That's death approaching and coming fast. We ha'e no where tae hide or go, except o'er there. My father is making fer the castle now and there's no where safe fer us here. So ye either run and make it around the loch, or ye'll die quickly taking a stand against them. Make yer choice, but I'm not waiting any longer." to which he turned and began running again.

The complaining stopped and out of breath or not, men began running, some shedding armour and unnecessary weight. Fifteen miles of running along rugged landscape lay before them and death was making the same journey less than a mile behind. Grayson and the others had started out prepared for hand to hand battle and shed excess weight, giving them an edge to gain ground. The rage in their voices told of their determination to exact revenge and justice at the swing of their blades, most already thickly coated with the blood of those already vanquished.

Blair wasn't sure, but before he turned to run, he could have swore he saw Iain MacLean running beside Grayson MacDonald. Lachlan MacRae ran beside his brother and pulled at his cloak to get his attention. Lachlan pointed discreetly at the battered birlinn on the coast, so others weren't aware of where he was looking. Even with the bow blown away, at least ten men could board it and row to the other side. Blair understood his brother's plan and looked about him to see who should go. He motioned for several to come to him as they ran, letting them know of the plan. They quickly went about to the others who were chosen and shortly after, Blair and ten men peeled away and were running down the hillside. Others began following, but were told to keep going on the ridge. With no idea of the plan, they followed orders and ran with the others, now nearing exhaustion and slowing.

Blair and his men pushed the battered boat into the water and made for the stern, setting oars into the water and rowing away from shore. The others finally saw what they had planned without them and felt the abandonment set in. Ones who were in bad physical shape, started to fall from exhaustion and gasped for breath. Unable to go on, they stood and faced the points of the approaching swords and held what ground they could, before falling to them. Their deaths did little to slow the progress of the men, as they continued to gain on the others, unwavering in their oath to rid the land of all of them.

Grayson and Iain halted and watched, as Blair and his men slowly made their way across to safety, knowing their chance to get him had passed. Without further thought, he turned and gathered close to fifty men to him, while the rest were to continue hunting down the remainder of MacRae's men and the English with them.

Grayson and the men made their way back the two miles to the coast and set out in a birlinn. Raising sail and setting to on the oars, they were making good speed for the far coast. No matter what was happening at Donan, Grayson wanted to make every effort to stop Blair MacRae from reaching the coast and his father. Rounding the point, he could see Blair was rowing towards his father, who was more than three hundred yards away. Grayson estimated his distance to him to be more than a thousand, but good winds were behind him and strong arms continued to close the gap.

Back on the other side of the loch, the remaining men continued to run for their lives. Those who faltered were quickly overcome and felled by the faster followers, Those trailing behind, finished them off, hacking limbs off, beheading them, or simply running three feet of blade through them and ripping it back out. By half way down one side of Duich, only forty or so of the original sixty were left to hunt down. With panic and desperation setting in, some split off on their own and tried to make a break up steep rock faces. The sgurrs became nearly impossible to scale, their faces holding little for them to grasp on to, or use as a foothold. As they became stranded. some of the MacDonald's and their followers welcomed the rest and began using the hapless men as target practice. One by one they fell, their bodies bouncing raggedly off the face, until they were crushed on the rocks below.

Once all eight of the men were taken down, they laughed as they began to get back to the deed of ridding their land of the unwanted ones. It wasn't hard to pick up the trail, as body after body was left writhing in agony along the way. The men dispatched them quickly with swift hands of death, their blades drenched and dripping a trail of their vengeance behind them.

The twenty six men left, had stripped their heavy kilts away, ridding them of the extra weight. For all their physical strength of adrenalin fuelled flight, they had only managed a small lead over their pursuers. Slowing just above where Glendon and his men had hid, they gingerly came through the bushes, the branches tearing and shredding their tunics and saw the bodies of their men who had gone out in pursuit and didn't return, flies swarming their flesh. The sight became a vivid reminder that they would be lying dead like them, if they didn't continue to run. With only a few handfuls of chilled water from the stream to slake their thirst, they set off as fast as tired legs would run, each man praying God would give him the strength to continue.

Now running along the coast, the clansmen had no trouble seeing them and knew it was only a matter of time, before they would be running their blades through them. The ones in the lead began to laugh and shout, as they noticed many of the ones in front were naked, only a sword and a targe to their possession.

The end of the loch was reached and the men ran as fast as legs could go, knowing safety lay at the other end in the dense woods. They ran past Sheil Bridge and over the river, hoping to lose them in the woods on the other side. Curious eyes watched the event happening, finding great amusement watching it unfold. They didn't recognize the naked men coming towards them, but the tartans on the men following them let them know it was the enemy they were chasing down.

As the men made it to the edge of the woods, the sound of bush and branches being broken filled the air as they scrambled into it, hoping to disappear from their pursuers and find safety. Climbing higher and higher, they felt sure they had a chance at losing the clansmen. Fifty feet up, they heard the sound of a branch being broken directly in front of them and stopped, looking ahead to see what it was. There in their path, were thirty armed men, ten with arrows drawn, aimed directly at their naked bodies.

"And where are ye lot off tae?" Glendon asked them, almost friendly in tone. "Drop yer blades, NOW!" he roared, in complete difference.

At first the men stood frozen, unsure if they should comply or fight.

"Jacob" was all Glendon called out and shortly after, an arrow was tumbling the lead man back down the hill, an arrow piercing his eye socket.

The rest quickly tossed their blades to the ground and awaited their fates, as they were herded back down the hill at sword point. Their pursuers finally caught up and were surprised to see them led out by Glendon and his men.

"Is this who yer looking fer?" Glendon said to them, knowing full well they were, but making light of it.

"Aye, Glendon. We were out fer a run and ga'e them a head start. We were just thinking it was going tae be hard catching up, when they ran intae the woods. Many thanks fer making it easier fer us, nephew." Gleason MacDonald said, coming through the men to him as he spoke.

The two hugged happily and then turned to their captives.

"What do ye want tae do wi' them, uncle?" Glendon asked, poking his sword at the closest man, the tip threatening to pierce his flesh.

"Laird Grayson has gi'en orders that no man is tae be spared. The men swore an oath tae him that it would be so. If ye come back wi' us, ye'll see a trail of them. The animals will ha'e a good feast this night, so they will. God love them, that they can stomach their vileness, but it's a good feast all the same, don't ye think?" Gleason jested.

"Aye, God's creatures are a blessing. Well I guess we should feed some wi' this lot, don't ye think?" Glendon joked, his sword still keeping the seriousness of the moment in check.

"Our orders are tae kill this lot and we're not finished till we do, so it's time fer a wee bit of sport. There's enough men fer some contests fer us all, so let's ha'e a bit of fun, before we go back tae battle. Tie six of these filth tae the trees o'er there and pick three of yer best archers and I'll pick three of mine." Gleason told him.

Six naked men were dragged to the trees, begging to be spared, while the others were made to lie on the cold, damp ground. Gleason walked to the trees and measured out fifty paces and laid his sword down to mark the line. The men were tied by any bindings available, their hands bound behind the trees, tears streaking down their pleading faces.

Gleason brought his three best archers forward and lined them up with the targeted men. Glendon brought his three and did the same.

"What's the test, uncle?" Glendon asked, interested to know what his uncle's mind had conceived for their fates.

"The men ha'e tae take the pride off their man in the fewest shots. We'll add arras at the end tae determine the winner."

The bound men had no idea what was in store for them and stood on shaking knees, some urinating in fear of what was to come. Their nervous reaction brought jeers and derision from their captors, only adding to their humility.

"I'll gi'e the order tae fire and ye's all keep shooting till ye've pinned it tae the tree." then Gleason readied the archers, "Are ye's ready? Take aim." and wails of mercy rang out at those words, "Let them loose." Gleason shouted out and arrows streaked to their intended marks.

Screams of agony rose, as the arrows pierced their flesh. Only Jacob Pollock's arrow found its mark, severing it from its owner. The appendage was driven into the trunk deeply and cheers rose from Glendon's men, as blood poured from the severed veins. Hazing was given in good nature to one of Gleason's men for not even hitting his man anywhere.

"Aye, but look at the size of my target. It's no fair. He's no any bigger than a wee boy." Slocum said in his defence, pointing at it to prove it was so, getting laughter from every man.

The four other men were screaming or groaning in agony, as arrows had found their flesh close to it's intended mark. Bellies and legs let out brilliant red streaks to confirm the position of entry. Once again the archers took aim and released their flights, this time every arrow finding purchase in a body and two more men relieved of their manhood. Brice MacIntaggert stood boastfully at his accomplishment, as his son, Robbie cheered him along with the others. Gleason's man, Lomax, received and good number of pats on the back and cheering, as he stood back from the line with the other two.

The remaining twenty captives lay in deathly fear of what awaited them. Without realizing it, every one of them was covering their pride in consequence of what they saw.

*************************

"Wait, wait. Argus really." Gillian said in protest, her concerns of her son hearing about such horrid things.

"It's what happened, honestly. Am I making this up Stuart? Tav?" Argus replied, looking at his cohorts.

Aye, it did happen, but yer getting a wee bit graphic again, so ye may want tae tone it down a wee bit. I can see why Gillian is getting concerned." Stuart told him,

"Och, try tae tell a good story and everyone gets their knickers knotted up o'er a wee bit of blood letting. Is it bothering ye tae hear such things, Sean?" Argus responded, looking at Sean.

"No way, Mr. Stewart. This is awesome. I can't wait to get on line tonight and tell my buddies all this cool shi... stuff." he corrected quickly and smiled, looking at his mother's disapproving face and then his aunt's.

"Aye, it is cool shite, isn't it?" Argus said laughing.

"Argus, stop that." Gillian scolded him.

"Och, sorry. It's just a word everyone uses everyday and don't tell me ye don't. It's not like he doesn't know it, now is it?" Argus defended himself.

"Aye, I think we should take a wee break and freshen ourselves. Ha'e a bit of a stretch and we'll let Argus continue when we come back. If ye ladies are finding this a bit too gruesome, then ye'll no want tae hear what happens tae the rest, it's worse than what's happened already." Stuart quickly took over the conversation and diffused a potential battle, as well as gave the women a chance to avoid hearing the morbid tales Argus was clearly enjoying to embellish.

"I think it's a good time to go back to the beautiful gardens and have some more of that wonderful girl talk we were having earlier. I enjoyed that much more than I am of this. Sorry Argus, but it's not my cup of tea. Ladies, care to join me for a stroll?" Gillian asked the other three.

"To each their own, hen. No tae worry, the men are'ne put off by the happenings, so it'll gi'e us a chance tae really get intae it then."he stated, making Sean smile a little wider.

The women all gave their respective others a quick kiss and departed to the gardens.

"Well, looks like yer free tae get as graphic as ye like then, Argus. If everyone is ready, I guess ye can continue from where ye left off." Stuart said with a distinct tone of reluctance.

Argus smiled happily and thought for a moment where he had stopped when Gillian interrupted him.

"Aye, we were just coming tae the end of target shooting. So there were only three men left and they had been hit several times each. The last three archers prepared their bows and took aim..."

Tom, David, Mark and Sean sat transfixed at Argus' words, while Stuart and Tavish sat back and watched them, knowing what was about to happen. Tavish looked at Stuart, who lowered his eyes slightly and shook his head, as he heard of what happened and felt the same way at hearing it.