Blood of the Clans Ch. 48

The arrows left their bow strings, the whistling only lasting a second or two, before more screams echoed off the hills around them. Two more men stood without their manhood, while the third was pierced in his abdomen. The two men stood back and watched, as Glendon's last archer, Callum McInnis took aim once more. All the men watched in suspense, Callum's shot deciding a winner or not.

The arrow streaked the distance in a blur and missed its mark, hitting the man on his left thigh. Gleason's men cheered happily, knowing it came down to a tie at best now. Callum drew back on his bow and took aim again before his fingers released the missile. The man screamed in excruciating agony, as his pride was hit and embedded into the tree trunk.

Blood streamed from the wounded men, their cries of pain ignored without response, as they slowly bled out. Gleason stood in front of the clansmen and declared a tie was had. Everyone cheered, except Callum.

"If it's a tie, then whoe'er made the first hit should decide it." he opined.

"Aye, I agree, Callum. In that stead, Jacob was first, so we won." Glendon concurred, then turned to Callum and asked him a question that gnawed at him. "Why did ye use so many arras, Callum? Yer a finer bowman that that."

"Och, I could'ne help wanting tae inflict a bit more pain first. It was they bastards that came tae Ballachulish and killed everyone. All my kin and friends as well, were slaughtered, so what I ga'e him was a bit of retribution fer what he did." he stated forthrightly.

Glendon couldn't deny Callum's reasoning and patted his shoulder in acknowledgement.

"Aye, we'll let ye ha'e that one then, Glendon. Let's see how well ye do on the next one then. Killian, bring yer axe." Gleason called out.

A large, burly man of six foot two stepped from the crowd of men and stood by Gleason, his long handled axe slung over his shoulders.

Glendon shouted out for Gillie to come down from the wounded, where he stood guard over them. The crunching of branches and bush told them a man of great proportions was coming. In moments the bushes shook and a man of greater size appeared holding a large battle axe. He made his way to Glendon and awaited an order. The size of the blade had only one purpose, death.

"String up two in the trees, head tae the ground, if ye would." Gleason said to the men guarding the game pieces the prisoners had become.

Two were dragged screaming in terror to the trees and hung spreadeagled upside down.

"Yer tae use one blow and cleave yer man in half. We'll make it best two out of three."

Gleason's words raising the sounds of terror from all the captives. They watched, the shock of seeing the others' prides used for targets, still leaving its impression in their minds.

Gillie turned to Killian and shook his wrist and wished him good strength in his blow. Killian smiled back and wished him the same, as they approached the suspended men.

"One blow men, no more. He must be cleaved in two, to win. Are ye's ready?" Gleason asked, as the others watched in anticipation, the captives in dread.

Both men squared off to their targets and laid the edges on the juncture of their blows. The two men screamed in unheard pleas not to do it, as the axes were raised. When Gleason saw they had reached as far back as they could, he gave the order. "Swing away."

The whistling of air being sliced ended, as the axes made contact and began quickly severing the two men, instantly quieting their screams, but not those of the others.

Gillie's larger blade made a truer path of where he aimed and in a moment, two halves of the man swung apart, as his entrails gushed out and fell about the ground. Killian's smaller blade ran afoul and curved into the man's spine, lodging in a disc, his target lasting only a few more seconds in agony. Cheers rang out from Glendon's men, while disheartened silence was held by Gleason's men.

"Ye need a bigger blade like mine, Killian. That one is too wee tae do the job. Only good fer hacking off an arm or leg."Gillie told him, smiling at him through his thick, scraggly beard.

Killian turned to his men and asked for a bigger bladed axe. None had one, so Gillie shouted to his younger brother to come forward. Wee Abe, not much smaller than Gillie, came through and handed his axe to Killian. It was almost the same as Gillie's and Killian swung it a few times to get the feel for it. He judged its weight to be over a stone, as he hefted it in his hand.

"It'll do the job, it has before." Abe told him, winking with a smile, as he went back with the other men to watch.

"That's one tae Gillie and none fer Killian. String two more up, same size if ye can, try tae make this fair fer both." Gleason laughed out,

Two more men were cut from the remaining men and dragged to the trees screaming, not a face showing any sign of mercy, or remorse to them. Once bound, the two large men approached and readied themselves.

"Ready? Swing away." Gleason shouted and both men showed the brute force of their musculature, as they brought the axes to their marks.

This time both axes ran true courses through the bodies, but Gillie's jammed into his man's shoulder bone and stopped, while Killian's blade lodged in the ground, after severing his man cleanly in two. The ground became heaped with viscera, as their entrails fell upon the others.

Cheers rang out from both sides this time, Killian looked at Wee Abe and held the axe up, winking at him with a broad smile, blood still dripping from the edge.

"That's one a piece, so we need a tie breaker. Bring two more." Gleason asked his men, his tone showing an enjoyment in carrying out the deaths of twenty six men.

Glendon had never seen this side of his uncle before and wondered how he knew of these things. In as much as they were carrying out the Commander's orders, he knew what they were doing was still a vile act to commit on a man and Grayson would not approve it. It was becoming harder for him to draw the line between decency and brutality, as he watched the next two men become suspended, to decide the winner.

The screams from the two were drowned out by the shouts from the men on both sides, cheering their man on to do his best and win for their side. He looked at his men, then up to where his brother was being treated by Malachi, thinking of all that had been done. The men were to die anyway, by the blades being used on them now, so what true difference was held by the means they were sentenced to death. As he pondered the moralities of it, Gillie and Killian took their places and readied their axes. As the heads of the men dangled only a foot from the entrails below, they watched their executioners stand before them, ready to add theirs to it. Hearing Gleason give the order, they waited through the last two seconds of their lives in hopelessness, before the cracking of their bones ended their misery.

Gillie cleanly severed his man in two, his axe imbedded in the ground, Killian's axe doing the same. Killian's man clung together by the scantest of tissue and ligament, denying him the win. Walking up, he shook the branch and the tissue tore apart, the halves pulled to the sides, as the organs spilled to the ground. His men still cheered him for his efforts, as Gillie was congratulated heartily by his men for winning. Abe came up and Killian handed him his axe back, thanking him for the use of it.

"Aye, it's a good blade Abe, tae bad that bastard had tae ruin it fer me. I've a good mind tae chop his bloody head off fer it." he laughed out, then went to congratulate Gillie.

"Yer a good man tae ha'e in battle beside ye. I'd hate tae be against ye, so i would." he said laughing, but the truth clearly showed he was.

The two shook wrists and Gillie returned to his post up in the hill. Killian turned to Abe and asked what his brother's name was short for.

"Gillebruide, means brutal boy. Da, named him that after he nearly killed our ma gi'en birth tae him. Took three years tae convince her tae ha'e me. I was much smaller, so he called me Wee Abe, but I'm no wee anymore, but the name has stuck wi' me."he acknowledged.

"Only three years? That did'ne take long." Killian said laughing.

"Aye, Da poked her twice after me, so I must'ae made things easy fer him, but he got two daughters instead of sons. Tae look at them,ye'd no think we're kin. They're small, wee things compared tae Gillie and me." Abe told him, his hands showing the size difference.

"Aye, that's a good thing though, Abe. I don't think tae many men fancy a woman who can best them in a fight." Killian shot back.

"Any man wants tae be wi' our sisters, better know Gillie and me protect them from harm. God help the man who hurts them." Abe said with more seriousness.

Killian saw the look and knew it would mean a slow painful death if a man dishonoured them in any way. He shook Abe's wrist and wished him God's grace to spare him and his brother in battle. Abe wished Killian the same, then Gleason's voice rang out above the din of talking.

"The next test is fer the men who think they can wield a sword fast and true. Ye better hope ye sharpened it well fer this one. Three of yer best swordsmen, Glendon."

The men looked at him with anticipation, unnerving him that they were eager to be chosen. He chose Kenneth, Brice and Colson, he knew to be the best of his men with a sword. His men came forward with their swords, practising cutting blows in preparation, the sharp steel slicing the air in whirring spins.

Gleason's men came forward as well, practising much the same to ready themselves.

"We'll go two at a time. One of mine against one of yer's, Glendon. This will no be as easy as ye's think. A man will be tied spreadeagled between two trees by his arms and legs and his head from above him. Each time ye cut a part off, he'll move, so ye ha'e tae sure of yer strike. Arms and legs first, then the head last and he'll be moving well by then. Five strikes is the best ye can get, so make each one count well. If ye both succeed, the winner is the first tae finish. The first two step forward, if ye's would. Glendon, ye come count my man's strikes and I'll count yer's tae be fair." Gleason instructed them, winking at Glendon with a smile.

Glendon was unsure of where he found the ability to smile back at him, but his uncle threw an arm over his shoulder and led him to his station, making it seem more like when he was a boy going out with him fishing, instead of watching a man be dismembered.

Two more victims were chosen and dragged to the trees. Despite their struggling, both were tied as requested, a noose securely around both necks.

Gleason had the men start a few paces back, giving them room to swing the three and a half feet of blade they wielded. Colson turned to his opponent, Neil and nodded to him. Neil nodded back and they touched the tip of their swords in salute. They studied their objectives with unemotional detachment, figuring the order of moves to make, the faces of the men pleading in tears and pitiful wails unnoticed.

"Ready? Away!" Gleason shouted and both men sprang forward.

Both men started with the left arm and then swung around to the right one, severing both cleanly. The nooses tightened and held the men steady, choking off their screams, as they heard their strikes counted out. Both men went for the left leg and then the right, Colson trailing slightly behind. Once the last appendage was cleaved off, the torso bobbed up and down from the noose, making their final swing more difficult.

Neil swung first and missed the neck, the tip of his sword gouging a deep gash across his target's chest. Colson waited a moment longer and swung hard, as his bobbing torso came towards him. The body dropped to the ground and the head was flung by the noose into the woods, as Colson's sword sliced through the neck, sending a sweeping arc of blood off the tip. Neil waited, as the body came to him and easily swung his sword, lopping off the albeit dead man's head.

"Six fer Neil." Glendon shouted out.

"Five fer Colson." Gleason followed with, a slight desperation in his tone. "Two more." he called out.

A pair of men were dragged, no longer screaming pleas of mercy, knowing they fell on deaf ears. The severed limbs were removed and the two were soon readied for contest, One man succumbed to his nervous state knowing his fate and released himself, his urinating bringing derisive laughter from the men.

"Step up, Duncan, ye tae, Brice. Make yerselves ready." Gleason said, motioning them forward.

Glendon turned to look up the loch, his dread that clansman's deaths were occurring, as they took sport in ridding themselves of these men. He turned back and watched, as the two men squared off in front of their subjects and awaited the command to start.

Gleason dropped his arm and shouted for them to swing, hoping Duncan could get them a tie this time. Both men started with the left arms, but Duncan kept the momentum of his swing going, while Brice brought his sword back up and chopped again. Duncan was able to gain speed with his style, over Brice and was shortly severing the second leg, while Brice just cleaved through the first. In his eagerness to catch up, he tried speeding up his swing, but didn't make it through the leg entirely. The horrific screaming was unheard above the screaming cheers of the men, the din echoing down Glen Sheil and along the loch.

Before Brice could bring his sword up after completely severing the leg, Duncan was slicing the air, after his subject's head tumbled off and bounced on the ground. He held his sword high and cheered his success, as Brice lopped off his man's head in completion, showing his regrets at losing in his part.

"Six fer Brice." Gleason happily called out.

"Five fer Duncan." Glendon said unemotionally, his thoughts weighing on his words.

"That gi'es us another tie tae break. Two more tae come then." Gleason called out and then turned to his nephew. "What bother's ye, Glendon?"

"Making sport of killing men, Uncle. It's not right in God's eyes. They should be gi'en an honourable death at least." Glendon told him, expressing his fears of retribution from above.

"No right in God's eyes? Do ye know how all this started?" he asked his nephew.

"No, I just know God would'ne look kindly on these acts." Glendon defended his beliefs.

"Callum, here." Gleason shouted out.

Callum McInnis made his way through the men to Gleason, who then asked him to relate what he knew of the raid on Ballachulish to Glendon. By the time he finished his story of when he left and ran away into the darkness and what had happened since, Glendon began looking at the men suspended, in a different manner. Knowing the depravity of what they had done that night and to other women since, his heart felt more at ease with the acts being carried out.

"Then justice is being served. Let them die as ye please, Uncle, they deserve what they get." Glendon replied, his hatred beginning to show in his eyes and face.

"I'm no as vile a man as that, tae do things like this tae men just fer pleasure, son. Callum recognized many of these men from that night and told me who they were. It was'ne hard tae make them pay in kind fer their acts. I want tae send these bastards tae hell wi' as much suffering as they caused others. Ye'd do the same if ye were me, so ye would, I know it. Ye've always been a just man, e'en since yer were wee. Ye pounded the shite out of Magnus McPherson fer hurting yer dog in fun, do ye remember? Yer Da, God rest him, had tae pull ye off him, or ye'd ha'e killed him. He did let ye gi'e him a good walloping first though, just tae make sure he understood no tae do anything like that again tae ye or anyone else." Gleason pulled the memory from him and watched him smile in remembrance. "Look o'er there, between those men. Do ye no recognize that man? That's Magnus. He's still afraid tae look ye in the face."

"That's Magnus? Och, tell him tae come o'er, that there's no bad blood between us." Glendon told his uncle,

"Later, we need tae attend tae things already at hand first." his words reminding him of what was taking place.

"Aye, yer right. Let's see to it and end this. We're at a tie, are we not?"he queried Gleason, his tone alluding to a sense of enjoyment in it.

"Aye, so we are. Let's see who's man comes out the winner." Gleason said, poking Glendon in the chest and returning to his position to count.

Glendon called Kenneth to him and whispered to him, before he took his place. Two more men were suspended and waiting, prayers hurriedly spoken out, as they awaited their fate. Harold took his place and looked at Kenneth, giving him a nod, to which Kenneth smiled and nodded back. Kenneth nodded to Glendon and began spinning his sword in a forward circular motion, the tip making a loud whirring sound. Gleason saw both men were ready and shouted for them to begin, as he dropped his arm. Harold followed the same pattern of cutting as most of the others and was quickly severing the second arm of his man. He judged himself to be ahead of Kenneth and stole a glance at him to see where he was. The spinning blur of Kenneth's body made him falter as he looked closer at him.

Kenneth spun wildly, his sword cleanly slicing through flesh and bone on each rotation. Harold quickly brought his blade back into motion and chopped hard through his man's right leg and then whirled it fast into a cross-hand cut, but it wasn't fast enough. Before his sword had made it into his man's flesh, Kenneth had spun twice more and landed on his feet in a crouch. Kenneth jumped high into the air, spinning as he went, his blade gaining speed and momentum as it came around. His blade took his man's head off and he landed in time, to thrust his sword forward and pierce the torso through the heart before it hit the ground. Harold dispatched his man to finish, but knew there was no win for him.

Glendon's men cheered wildly at seeing Kenneth's performance and breaking the tie in their favour again.

Gleason stood in amazement and then came to Kenneth, his awe-struck look one that many held.

"Where'd ye learn tae use a sword like that, man?" he asked,

"From yer nephew. He taught me how tae swing like that. Gi'es a wee bit more speed and striking power tae yer swing and makes it harder fer yer opponent tae hit ye, because yer no standing there gi'ing him something tae hit." Kenneth told him proudly.

"Ye taught him that, Glendon? Where did ye learn such moves?" Gleason asked, puzzled to the source of his training.

"Gordon taught me. We practised all the time and he came up wi' the idea tae move like that. Works quite well, doesn't it?" he happily told him, then his smile slowly faded from his face as he remembered.

"Gordon? Yer brother has gotten that good, has he? Is he wi' the others, I hav'ne seen him.?" Gleason asked.

"Uncle, Gordon's been injured. He's alive, but he's in a bad state. He took a blast from the cannon when the birlinn was blown up and his face and hands are scorched black. Griffin, from the clan McGuire is wi' him tending tae his burns and the injuries of the other men. They're up in the hill in safety, but it'll be God's grace that some will live. I pray wi' all my soul, that he sees fit tae spare my brother." Glendon told him sadly.

"String up two more. I ha'e something fer ye's once I get back from seeing Gordon." he shouted to the men. Then turning to Glendon again, "Take me tae him, son."

The pair climbed up into the bush and scaled the steep slope to where the injured were lying in the shade. Gleason knew who his nephew was instantly, by the strips of kelp laid over his face. He went and knelt at his side and softly called his name out.

"Gordon, it's Gleason, yer uncle. Can ye hear me, son?"