Blood of the Clans
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Blood Of The Clans Ch. 33 free porn video
Malcolm MacDougall stood in Dunollie, looking at the brilliant display lighting up the early morning sky. The sun broke the horizon and lit the morning in golden brightness, but the brightness on Lismore outshone it, making those in and around the castle take note of it. What bothered Malcolm about it, was the closeness to where the birlinns were hidden.
After dressing, he made his way down the steep, stone steps to the hall and called the men together. Since the massacre of the Fraser’s, the men held Malcolm in higher stead, his order to slaughter innocent people and lead in the killing, made them take note of his position with greater respect out of fear. Malcolm gathered with his men and made plans to set sail for Lismore and discover the cause of the display, as well as the state their birlinns were in.
Sloan stood with Kyla at his side, talking with Coll and Loman about the wrecking of the birlinn and the loss of the men on board. Sloan heard the names of the dead and showed a surprise on his face, realizing the blow to MacRae’s leadership. He was hard-pressed not to show the vengeful joy at knowing who met that untimely end. Just as Coll was explaining how Griffin and he had rescued Eamon MacGregor off a small atoll just a mile away, Foster was carrying the crippled man down the stairs on his back. Eamon was learning to use the makeshift crutch and hobbled into the hall beside Foster up to the four.
‘Sloan Fraser, this is Eamon MacGregor. He’s the fisherman from Seil, the one who found the bodies of three Douglas boys off his coast, in his nets. The ones Harlan Douglas claims ye murdered them somehoo.’ Foster made no small talk about what needed to be cleared up.
‘Me and my men? He says we murdered them? The last we saw of the Douglas boys, was after we stole the birlinns. We were sailing tae oor hiding spot and they were going tae theirs. We knew they wouldn’t follow us and we had no desire tae follow them. We knew of four more birlinns we could ha’e the next night. We were allies and had no quarrel wi’ them, so why would they think we killed his boys? Wi’oot conferring wi’ me, MacRae ordered the slaughter of my clan and me. We ne’er wanted tae join wi’ them, not after the murder of my father, McCauley. We were going tae use their attack against them. When MacRae started the attack, it would leave Dunollie close tae defenceless and we were going to raid it and take it o’er. They wanted us tae ha’e Stalker, but I knew we d ne’er set foot on this land. We were tae be used as fodder fer their lines. They had no intention of letting us ha’e lands, let alone a castle, so we had planned on taking them fer oorselves.’
Everyone listened to each and every word Sloan spoke. He himself knew that one wrong word could end his plans and worse, his life and those of the remaining Fraser’s. He could see the understanding and acceptance of his story taking hold and led them along further.
‘We’ve known the Stewart’s tae be a good and fair clan and decided if we were tae be anywhere as a clan, it would be beside a clan we could respect and trust. This is why we came tae ye today, tae warn ye’s. It was all we could do tae show ye oor intentions of being peaceful wi’ yer clan and offer oor aid.’
Sloan saw the look of not only complete acceptance, but also a look of agreement in their course of action. Braedon went over the answers in his head, taking Eamon’s story and weighing it against Sloan’s. He couldn’t put Sloan and his clan in complete connection with the death of the boys and that had him doubt the word of Harlan Douglas, that the Fraser’s were the ones who had killed them.
For all his words, Sloan’s actions thus far, had backed him in truth and in his deliverance of them. Braedon felt more at ease with the new alliance with him and hoped he could help establish a place for them to live once the fighting was over. Would it ever be over? Braedon pondered the validity of that thought and could come to only one conclusion. MacRae and his army must be stopped at all costs. Even a meagre victory for him couldn’t be afforded.
‘I can’ne say one way or the other who did what tae who, but I know fer a fact that they boys had their feet tied. E’en wi’ that, they should ha’e been able tae swim, or stay afloat, so I ha’e no idea why they drooned?’ Eamon finally spoke out.
That made sense to everyone instantly, with Eamon’s account. Why couldn’t the boys swim if their hands were free? What could have stopped them from swimming to shore or letting the tide carry them there? Only Sloan and his men possibly knew what caused their deaths and they weren’t saying anymore about the subject.
Ten miles away, twenty men led by Malcolm MacDougall, were sailing up to the dwindling flames on the headlands of Eilean Musdile. They pulled to the shore and two men jumped out and held the lines tight, as everyone else jumped out. They lay heavy stones over the lines to hold it in place, then joined the others and climbed the slope to the top. They could see the numerous tracks of horse and men, going up and down the slope and began to wonder why such an effort went into this.
Reaching the top, the heat was still intense enough to keep them back a dozen feet. They peered through the flames and could make out shapes in them. When a few moved, it became apparent to them what they were. The charred bodies were twisting, as the flames melted away flesh and muscle, casting fear into the men that they were somehow alive. An arm rose and a finger pointed at them, as the body contorted. When it started to sit up, the men were horrified and ran back down, falling and stumbling, screaming in panic back to the birlinn. They boarded with all haste and pushed off, wanting to be as far away as they could, from whatever evil that lay in the flames.
Malcolm stared back and watched, hoping beyond all fear, that the demons weren’t coming after them. They sailed north along the coast to the inlet they had hid the birlinns in, instantly noticing all were gone. They sailed into the inlet and pulled up to the shore. It wasn’t hard to see that someone had moved all the branches covering them. Malcolm walked up the sloping land and into the newly planted fields. Seeing the smoke rising from the cottage in the distance, he ordered his men to follow him there. He wanted answers from them.
Iain MacLean sailed the four miles across Loch Linnhe with his men, keeping their distance from the shores of Lismore’s northern point. They could see all the birlinns pulled tight on the shore and no one in sight around them. They continued on for a mile and turned to port around the point at Appin and once out of view, dropped sail and pulled hard to port into the small cove, pulling into the shoreline and a stretch of sandy beach. Iain and several others went over the side and climbed to the top of the hill and scanned the point across the channel.
‘There, among they trees tae the left of those rocks. Horses, can’ne see hoo many, but quite a few of them. Stuart MacLean alerted them.
Eyes were trained on the area, as they came down the side of the hill for a closer inspection. As best as they could make out, there were only a dozen or so men sitting under trees close to the horses. Iain led the men back to the birlinn to assess their situation. Those were definitely the birlinns they had stole and secreted away. Who the men were, they had no idea, but they out numbered them and the element of surprise was theirs. The men readied their weapons and had bows and arrows set along side them, as they made their way back across.
Two lookouts watched, as the MacLean birlinn had sailed past and the men disembarking and scouting along the coast. They pondered what was going on and sent word for Laird Braedon to come up and see what was happening.
As Braedon stood with the lookouts, he saw the birlinn sailing across the channel and into the bay, running onto the beach at speed. Men could be seen running from it and towards the
brush and trees. Braedon ran from the tower lookout and down the steep stairs to the hall. He came straight to Sloan and told him what he saw.
‘Sloan, yer men are under attack. Tae yer boat at once.’
‘My men? On Lismore?’ Sloan said back in confusion.
‘There’s no time tae explain, Kyla, stay here wi’ my people, ye’ll be safe. Men!,’ Braedon roared out now, ‘Tae the birlinns. Bring arms and be ready fer battle!’
Sloan stood in momentary stunned wonder at what was happening. It took only a second for him to realize what Braedon had said and his need to go. He too told Kyla to stay and had his men out of the castle and down the steep outer stairs, making for his birlinn. In less than five minutes, three birlinns and forty men were making the short distance to Lismore in all speed. Oars were plied through the waters in the fastest cadence of strokes, as the final mile was closed in all haste.
Sloan could see his men on horseback, high up in the hills, as their attackers made them hold their position with arrows pointed at them, while others were pushing birlinns into the water.
Sloan and Braedon had their men prepare bows as they approached, ready to take as many out with them as they could, before they were over the sides and into hand to hand combat.
The MacLean’s saw the birlinns coming and shouted to the others in alarm. Iain called for a retreat and cut away the birlinns tied to his boat. His men made for the shore and splashed through the shallow water, before clamouring aboard and the sail quickly raised. The winds were against them and had to turn and row hard to get speed up and flee, as the birlinns closed in on them. Sloan broke off formation and went after the MacLean’s birlinn, He knew he had the advantage of speed and situation. While MacLean’s men rowed for speed, they weren’t armed for attack and were easy marks.
Iain saw Sloan at the prow and the row of archers with bows at the ready closing in on him. They made it past the point and caught the channel winds, filling their sail and giving them a quick boost in speed. They headed north quickly, cutting back on Sloan’s angle of attack, making it more difficult for Sloan to attack him broadside. Sloan saw the manoeuvre, but was prepared for it.
‘Hard tae starboard, ram him amidships.’ he yelled out to Blair, who pushed the tiller over and put them on a direct course at the side of the attackers.
‘Bowmen, up here and be ready tae fire when I tell ye’s.’ Sloan told the first four men in front of him. ‘Hold fast tae something once ye let loose, then everyone, ha’e yer blades ready tae fight wi’. Swords are tae long tae draw and use. Blair, ram them and pull broadside tae them. Once we are, o’er the side and go fer necks.’ he yelled back to his men and fifteen Stewart’s.
The men drew their swords and laid them on the hull, then dirks and skeans were drawn and readied. Braedon saw what Sloan was doing and followed after him. He sent the other birlinn, with Coll and Loman on it, to secure the birlinns floating free and see to the men. He was almost a hundred yards back and was sailing into the calm area, losing speed. Quickly his men had the oars out and locked and with Braedon’s signal, they started as one and rowed in perfect unison through the strokes.
Sloan watched the distance close, as Blain kept them on a collision course. Iain could see the tactic and judged his chances. There was only one way to avoid Sloan’s attack, but it would put them at risk. As Sloan’s birlinn came at their starboard bow area, Iain ordered his brother Kyle, to throw their tiller over to starboard and go for Sloan’s port bow.
Sloan wasn’t expecting him to do that and found he was now at risk of being rammed. The bows came at each other and Blain threw his tiller over hard to starboard to avoid them. The archers were thrown off balance and were useless to use in attack. The port bows smashed into each other, the larch wood cracking from the blow, then they bounced off, throwing everyone about, as they started to pass. Sloan looked into Iain MacLean’s eyes and shared a look of murderous vengeance pass between them, as the sails glanced off each other, bringing them out of the wind.
The birlinns passed too fast for any actions to be taken and Sloan turned to watch the MacLean’s escape to safety. Off to his port side, Braedon was gaining speed and closing on MacLean’s birlinn. Sloan yelled for Blain to come about and go after them.
The blow caused Iain to lose power and speed, allowing Braedon’s birlinn to close quicker on them. Quickly they had the sail rigged and turned, the wind catching it again and bringing them back up to power. Iain knew he had only way place to go for safety and that was to Loch Leven and James MacRae. He made for the shortest route and hoped he could make it there, before Braedon made it to him. Without warning, two of his men fell forward with arrows deep in their backs. They were just passing Shuna Island and Castle Stalker, as the disheartening sight of another birlinn was coming at them, bringing a dread of failure to him.
‘Men, keep down and put yer targes (shields) o’er yer backs. We ha’e tae make it tae Ballachulish or fight and we don’ne stand a chance on open water.’
Fourteen miles of open water lay ahead of them for safety, a hundred yards and closing behind, lay death. The men hunkered down and made themselves less of a target, as arrows kept coming at them. Kyle kept tacking back and forth, as he saw arrows being released, trying to avoid them and stay fast in the wind to keep ahead. The three birlinns were staying within firing range and Iain and his men sailed under a canopy of projectiles bombarding them. The passage to Loch Leven came into view and Iain breathed a sigh of relief, but the arrows continued to drop onto them, making the final moments of chase a do or die situation.
Kyle aimed the birlinn for dead centre of the channel and crouched in the hull of the stern. He knew without looking, that at least seven arrows were piercing the wood right behind him. Several were stuck in the sail as a visual reminder what was aimed at him. Just as he thought about them, an arrow stuck into the wood inches from his hand on the tiller, making him draw it back quickly under cover.
The passage was cleared and Kyle knew which way to go from there without looking. Sloan and Braedon, along with Foster leading the third birlinn, turned before the channel and headed back to Lismore.
‘Noo ye know I’m telling ye the truth, Laird Braedon. Ye’ve seen wi’ yer own eyes what they’re like.’ Sloan yelled over to him.
Braedon looked at Sloan and then back at the fleeing birlinn, assuring him troubled times lay ahead. They sailed back towards Lismore, Foster breaking off and setting for Stalker, while the Stewart’s were collecting the boats and readying them for sail back to Stalker and safety. In less than an hour, Sloan and Braedon were along side and the birlinns boarded with men, while the men on shore gathered the horses and prepared them for transport once again. When the last of the animals were aboard, they made their way across the short distance and into the Bay of Portnacroish. The birlinns were unloaded of men and animal and led to a stable made from sod blocks and a thatched roof. The horses were packed into the small building and fed, while the other birlinns were moored along the beach, at the delta of the small river.
Sloan and his men stood on the small eilean that Stalker rested upon. Surrounded by water at high tide and boggy ground when it was out, the castle had natural defences against attack. Unknown to Braedon, Sloan stood and looked at his chances of taking Stalker as they planned and saw it had faults, realizing it would have left them vulnerable and without defence.
Kyla ran from the castle and down the steps to Sloan, hugging him tightly, as Sloan approached. Braedon gave him a small smirk, seeing the attention lavished on him. In his own heart, h
e wished that to be Arabella coming to him.
No matter how she greeted him, he had to warn her and the others of what he knew from Sloan and the events that just transpired. He entered his castle and gathered his men to him. Plans were needed to prepare and defend against any reprisals from the MacLean’s and MacRae’s. Sloan and his men joined him in the hall and listened to how he led his men. Once his men knew their tasks, Braedon called Sloan aside.
‘I need ye tae sail wi’ me tae Tioram and let the MacDonald’s know what’s happening. We’ll leave in the morning and be there by mid day. Do ye know the MacDonald’s?’
‘No, I’ve ne’er been on the other side of Linnhe.’
‘Lady Arabella MacDonald, is Chieftess at Tioram. Her brother, Grayson, rules at Camus and Duntulm.’
‘I’ve heard their names mentioned before, by the others when they talked.’ Sloan told him, relaying anything he knew.
‘What do ye know of them, Sloan?’ Braedon asked, in hopes Sloan knew some vital information.
‘I heard Andrew MacDougall say he wanted tae ha’e his way wi’ Arabella, once they took Tioram. From the way he talked aboot her, I felt he knew her somehoo. But it’s no something worth thinking aboot noo, he’s dead.’ Sloan divulged.
‘Aye and a damned good thing he is tae. If he touched her, I’d make his death very painful and slow.’ Braedon cursed, making his feelings for Arabella clear.
‘Ye ha’e an affection fer her, do ye, Laird Braedon?’ Sloan had to ask.
‘I can’ne lie, Sloan. My heart belongs tae her, but I fear she may not want me anymore. My son caused the death of sixteen of her men and it’s put me tae trial in her heart, I’m sure.’ Braedon confessed.
Sloan wasn’t aware of the battle at Donan and what had transpired, but knew what had happened had caused a parting between them.
‘Will she no fergive ye?’ Sloan asked him, wondering if it would affect the way things are, if she did.
‘After my son was killed, I left Tioram and I’ve no been back or had word wi’ her. I fear I’ve wounded her heart and it can’ne be repaired.’ his thoughts bringing a sadness to his voice.
‘Ye’ll ne’er know, until ye go and face her again, Laird Braedon. She may ha’e changed her mind or she may ha’e not. One thing’s fer certain, ye’ll ne’er know until ye see her and ask her.’ Sloan told him, trying to encourage him to face his fears.
‘Aye, that’s true, Sloan. One way or the other, it does’ne matter though. I ha’e tae warn them and face whatever Arabella feels in her heart fer me.’ Braedon said, while thinking about it.
Braedon smiled weakly and clapped Sloan on his shoulder to thank him, as he walked away and became lost in thought. Sloan went back to Kyla, who was clearly fretting over something.
‘What is it, Kyla?’ he asked, when he reached her.
‘I’m worried aboot my family, Sloan. If they men were attacking tae take the birlinns, maybe they own the ones by my parents that ye foond?’ Kyla told him, the worry clearly something she felt was real. ‘What if they went and saw the boats all gone?’ Sloan thought about the validity of her worries and felt they had substance to warrant action.
‘We’ll sail there noo and check on them. We’ll let them know what’s happened and warn them tae be on guard fer any sails.’ Sloan told her and took her hand, as he led her over to Blain.
‘Blain, roond up ten men and bring arms and targes. I want tae sail doon tae see Kyla’s folks and make sure they’re safe.’
Blain only needed to see the look in both Sloan and Kyla’s faces to know there was a need to investigate. He knew the outcome if MacRae or any of his men found the birlinns they stole missing. Blain bowed his head and rounded up ten men and quietly left the hall and made their way to the birlinn. Sloan went to Foster and told him of their plans and to inform Braedon when he saw him. Foster wasn’t aware of the need to sail there, but the look on Kyla’s face, let him believe it was on her account they were going.
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