Chapter 7: Atomic Fireball
FLASHBACK
One week later, Garth, Lachlan, and Leslie headed out early that morning from Castle MacWulver to head into the village so that Garth could pick up his new claymore from Blacksmith Rory.
Garth was extremely excited to see what kind of claymore Rory had forged him. It didn’t take the trio long to arrive at the blacksmith’s shop. They dismounted from their horses and tethered them to a nearby fence outside. Garth approached the front door and knocked.
“Come in.” Rory’s gruff voice called out.
Garth pushed the door open, and he and his companions made their way inside the shop. As soon as Garth opened the door the aroma of cinnamon and apples hit his nose, and made him salivate. Rory, Muireall, and Kirstin were seated together at the long, wooden kitchen table and were eating large pieces of steaming hot apple pie together.
Kirstin was so happy she was practically bouncing up and down on her seat as she shoveled large bites of apple pie into her mouth. The curls of her short brown hair were bouncing with her movements.
Rory’s attention turned to his guests and he grinned when he caught sight of Garth. “Ah, it’s you, Garth. I have your sword ready for you.” Rory stood up from his place at the table and walked over to another long wooden table where a sheathed claymore was sitting on it.
Muireall spoke to Lachlan and Leslie. “Why don’t you two sit down and have some apple pie? It’s freshly baked.” She waved her hand graciously at two empty seats at the table.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Leslie instantly agreed, took a seat at the table, and served herself a rather large piece of pie.
Lachlan took a seat next to Leslie, chuckling softly. “Should you really be getting such a big piece? You’re going to get fat, lass.” He teased.
“Don’t worry, I seem to gain all my weight here.” Leslie grabbed her chest. “Anyways.”
Lachlan flushed as he watched Leslie squeezing her flesh. He swallowed thickly. The shifter could feel himself getting turned on. He wanted to take Leslie right there on that kitchen table in front of everyone. “That so? And will you stop doing that? It’s inappropriate for a lady.”
A wolfish smile curled Leslie’s lips. “You’re the only one watching.”
Lachlan cleared his throat and served himself a piece of pie in order to distract himself. He shifted awkwardly on his seat. Leslie was such a tease. But he knew she’d never sleep with him again. Leslie knew he had feelings for her and wanted nothing to do with it. He cut a bite with his fork, plopped it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. His eyes widened in surprise as the delicious flavors hit his tongue. It was really good.
Lachlan turned to look at Leslie, and saw she’d already finished off half her piece. That lass had a healthy appetite!
Some males may have considered Leslie to be overweight, but Lachlan liked her soft, womanly curves. It would have given him something to hold onto during sex. But Leslie didn’t really need to know that, and he enjoyed teasing her about her curviness anyways.
Meanwhile, Rory turned around and handed the claymore to Garth. “Here she is. This sword is truly my greatest masterpiece. I used a special secret technique to strengthen the blade of the sword, so it should be unbreakable.” He shot a meaningful look Muireall’s way.
Muireall caught his look, fingered her slightly shorter hair, smiled, and nodded. Muireall had given her husband her hair in order to make Garth the strongest sword possible.
In ancient China, according to legend, throwing a man into a furnace made a strong sword. It helped to melt the metal and created the pure iron that a blacksmith could further hammer.
Rory’s sword-making process had begun when he’d inserted a slab of mixed iron and steel into his forge that had been preheated to more than two thousand three hundred degrees Fahrenheit.
After heating until it was supple enough to work with, he’d transferred the metal to an anvil where repeated hammer blows had shaped the metal. The cycle had been repeated again and again until just the right mixture of strength and suppleness was achieved, a process that took Rory days.
The insertion of the human hair into the forge was a key to his success. Before human hair is burnt it contains phosphorus. If it is burnt, the phosphorus will be mixed into the metal. After burning a while the metal will contain phosphorus, and the fire will give a magical turquoise glow.
“Have a look at her.” Rory urged Garth to unsheathe the sword.
Garth unsheathed the claymore and held it out before him. It was a beautiful sword. And the blade was longer than any of the other claymores inside of the blacksmith’s shop. The great sword had a cross hilt of forward sloping quillons with quatrefoil terminations. He executed a couple of practice swings with the sword, slicing it through the air. It was light, but Garth could tell it was perfectly balanced. And because it was light his movements were lightning fast. Garth grinned wickedly.
“I hope that expression on your face means you’re pleased with the sword.” Rory smiled at the shifter. “Here, allow me to show you the true strength of that there blade.” The blacksmith walked over to the wall, which was covered with weapons, and selected a standard claymore. He unsheathed the sword and approached Garth with it. “Hold your sword out horizontally before you.”
Garth did as he was told.
Rory brought his claymore up and then down in a two-handed slash.
The blacksmith’s sword’s blade shattered upon impact with Garth’s sword, and pieces of steel went flying through the air. Lachlan caught a piece of broken steel between his index and middle finger that would have otherwise stabbed his eye.
Garth blinked down at the sword in his hands in awe. It was indestructible. Truly a masterpiece. “Amazing…she’s a beautiful sword. Thank you.” Garth told Rory, his golden eyes swirling with emotion.
Rory patted Garth’s shoulder affectionately. “You’ll be needing her soon. The reivers have started to target the farmlands close to this village, and surely have their eyes set on this village as their next target. Word of our village’s prosperity and richness has spread all over Scotland. It only makes sense that the raiders would want a piece of that pie for themselves. Those greedy fucking bandits!” Rory swore with passion. “But hopefully I’m just being paranoid and they’ll never dare to come here. After all, this village is a long ways from the border. But if they do come, I’ll be ready for them.”
“Dear, you’re such a worrywart.” Muireall chided her husband. “And even if they do come…we’re under the protection of Clan MacWulver. The shifters will protect us.”
Rory frowned at his wife’s words. “But how long will it take the shifters to come down from their Highland Castle? By then hundreds will already be dead. The castle is too far away from the border for help to reach us in time.”
“Don’t you be underestimating Laird Magnus.” Leslie interrupted in a chiding tone. “He cares about the people here and this village. He would protect it with his life.”
“Hopefully he’ll never have to.” Muireall crossed herself. “May God protect us.”
Lachlan stood up from his place at the table. “We should get going.”
“Ah, before you leave. Garth, would you like a piece of apple pie?” Muireall offered kindly.
“Ah, no, it’s not necessary.” Garth put his hands up before him. “But thanks for the offer, Lady Muireall.”
However, Kirstin had already served a piece of pie and carried it over to Garth. She held the plate out to him, and smiled widely, showing the cute gaps in her teeth. “Here kitty. Have some pie. It’s real yummy.”
How could Garth resist such cuteness? He smiled down at the girl-child, and started to reach for the plate. However-
The sound of a woman’s piercing scream was heard from outside. More screams followed that sounded both male and female. Then the thundering, clopping sound of hundreds of horses’ hooves hitting the dirt roads throughout the village reac
hed their ears. The ringing sound of steel clashing against steel alerted everyone to the fact that a battle of some sort was suddenly taking place just outside Rory’s door.
“Those are the sounds of war. The sounds of Death.” Rory said grimly. A desperate shout for help was heard from just outside the blacksmith’s shop. “Those bloody reivers! They’re here!” The blacksmith rushed over to his wall of weapons and selected a claymore. He stalked over to Muireall and Kirstin, and stared down at them with a stern expression on his face. “I want you two to stay inside and barricade the door.”
“What about you, dear?” Muireall asked fearfully as she wrung her hands together while shooting nervous glances at the door.
Rory reached out and cupped Muireall’s cheek. Her trembling ceased. “Who do you think you married? I’m a Battle Priest. I can handle myself.” The blacksmith kissed Muireall on the lips before turning and heading towards the door.
Garth quickly fell into step beside Rory, and Lachlan and Leslie hurried after Garth. Rory threw the door open, and fearlessly stepped out onto the dirt road.
Garth, Lachlan and Leslie quickly exited the blacksmith’s shop, and shut the door behind them. Garth could already hear Muireall inside the shop moving furniture in front of the door to create a makeshift barricade.
The sight that met them - chaos.
Villagers, both male and female, were running across the dirt road, and screaming at the top of their lungs for help. Garth and the others watched as several reivers rode past them on hardy nags, chased a group of villagers down, threw their lances at them and speared them through. Some of the other reivers that were on horseback used their bows and arrows to take out the villagers. It was all happening so fast; there was no way to stop it.
The reivers wore tartan plaid, but most were dressed in light armor such as brigandines or jacks of plaite (a type of sleeveless doublet in which small plates of steel were stitched). Metal helmets such as burgonets or morions were on their heads hence their nickname of ‘steel bonnets’. They were armed with lances, swords, dirks, small shields, longbows, and light crossbows known as ‘latches’.
Several of the homes and shops close to the blacksmith shop were already on fire. Thatched roofs were on fire, and smoke was filling the air because of it.
The smell of burning flesh reached Garth’s senses, and caused him to have a sudden flash of memory. He remembered a place that was filled with the stink of burning flesh as human souls were tortured and punished for their sins in their special ‘spirit bodies’. The air around Garth was sweltering with unbearable heat, and the ground beneath is feet was scorching hot.
Garth shook his head to clear it of those unwanted memories. A group of five reivers on foot spotted Rory, Garth, Lachlan and Leslie, let out a war whoop, and charged with their swords raised.
Rory let out a battle cry, and attacked the raider that reached them first. Their swords clashed. Rory pulled his sword back and swung it forward in a fast sideways slash. He managed to slip past the reiver’s defenses and opened up his stomach right over his plaid. The bandit cried out and fell over to the ground where he lay unmoving.
Garth unsheathed his claymore, and attacked a reiver wielding a lance. He swung his sword at the reiver, and the bandit swung his lance at Garth in quick retaliation. Their weapons clashed, but Garth’s claymore cut right through the lance as if it had been made out of paper.
“Bloody hell!” The reiver swore angrily as he leapt backwards to put distance between him and Garth before tossing his now useless lance aside. He raised his right arm, and fired his mini crossbow at Garth.
Garth didn’t even bother to try and dodge the attack, and the bolt hit Garth’s pec. A feral smile that was more like a bearing of his teeth formed on Garth’s face, and he approached with predatory steps. His hand shot out and wrapped around the reiver’s throat. He lifted the man up off the ground, and began to squeeze the man’s neck mercilessly. The reiver clawed at Garth’s hands, but to no avail. Garth snapped the raider’s neck, and tossed him aside like a limp rag doll.
Meanwhile, Leslie was facing off against a reiver wielding a broadsword, and their swords clashed. The reiver leered at her, and flicked his tongue at her disgustingly. “Aren’t you a pretty Highland shifter whore? What do you say we set these swords aside and have some fun, lass?”
Leslie gave the reiver a disgusted look. “I think not.”
The bandit raked his eyes over her curvaceous body as if undressing her with his eyes. “Come on, lass, don’t be that way. Let me pierce you with my other sword, the bigger one.” The reiver grabbed his crotch and cackled merrily at his lewd joke.
Leslie cringed in disgust at his perverted actions. Her lip curled in disgust. She was about to make a scathing retort when suddenly the tip of a sword emerged from the reiver’s chest.
Leslie turned to see a furious looking Lachlan with his hand raised. Apparently, he’d overheard the reiver’s crude words, and had launched his sword at the reiver like a lance.
The reiver in front of Leslie sunk to his knees, his eyes bulging. He tried to speak and blood gurgled out of his mouth. Leslie put a hand to her ear. “What was that? You want me to put you out of your misery? I can do that.” Leslie swung her sword and beheaded the raider mercilessly.
Lachlan smiled at Leslie before turning his attention back to the reiver he’d been battling. Now that he was unarmed the reiver thought he had the upper hand and chuckled darkly. “Time to die, Highland shifter scum!” He swung his sword at Lachlan.
“Lachlan!” Leslie called out in concern.
Garth spun to see a reiver swinging his sword at an unarmed Lachlan. He began to run in his friend’s direction. I’m not going to make it!
But then Lachlan smiled cockily, and raised his hand to block the attack. He willed his hand to transform, and in seconds it had increased in size and was covered by shiny black scales. Lachlan’s nails had also turned into long sharp claws.
The reiver’s eyes bulged when his sword clashed against Lachlan’s clawed, scaly hand.
A dragon claw. Garth realized. Lachlan was a dragon shifter. One of the most powerful kinds. He felt his respect for his best friend grow.
Lachlan closed his dragon fist around the sword blade, and shattered it to pieces. He then shot out his hand and it entered the reiver’s chest. Lachlan ripped out the man’s heart and showed the still-beating heart to the reiver, who was now dying. The bandit sunk to his knees, and fell forward on the ground where he lay unmoving.
Lachlan coldly tossed the human heart aside. He then turned to Garth and Leslie. “We need to leave, and return to the castle. Laird Magnus must be informed of the reiver attack.”
Garth’s brow furrowed in confusion at Lachlan’s words. “You want us to leave Rory and his family? Abandon the village?”
Lachlan’s gray-green eyes were icy, calculating. “Yes. There are too many reivers. There could be a thousand. They’ve been planning this looting campaign for a while now. That much is obvious. Even though we’re shifters with those kinds of numbers they will overwhelm us. Our only option is to return to Castle MacWulver and return with the shifter army. That is our only chance for victory.”
“By the time we return Rory and his family could already be dead.” Garth argued with an angry wave of his hand through the air. “Hundreds of villagers will die.”
Lachlan walked over to Duff, put his foot in the stirrup, and swung himself up into the saddle. He untied Duff from the fence and turned his horse to face Garth. “That is not our concern.”
Leslie mounted Fiona and untied her horse from the fence. “I’m sorry, Garth, but Lachlan is right. If we stay here - we’ll die. We have to get reinforcements.”
Garth nodded at Leslie. “I understand. But I’m staying here to fight. I will protect Rory and his family, and this village until you return.” There was a fierce look in Garth’s amber eyes.
Leslie’s blue eyes widened at Garth’s surprisin
g declaration. “Garth…?”
“That’s suicide!” Lachlan burst out. “Garth, listen to reason. If you stay here, you’ll die. The humans are not worth dying for. We’re immortal. We’re superior to them. What would be the point in dying for lesser beings?”
Garth’s golden eyes narrowed at Lachlan fiercely. “Not worth dying for? Lesser beings?” Garth remembered how kind Muireall and Kirstin had been to him. How Rory had made him an unbreakable sword. Rory had made him that incredible sword because he believed in him. And he wouldn’t let Rory down. He wouldn’t break that trust. “I disagree. I believe these people are worth fighting for!”
“Then I’ll stay too.” Leslie started to dismount from Fiona. She didn’t like the idea of leaving Garth behind at all. It felt cowardly and wrong. And she was no coward. She was a powerful swordswoman in her own right.
“No.” Garth’s firm voice stopped Leslie. “It’s like Lachlan said, it’s too dangerous, Leslie. You could die. Go get me some reinforcements.”
Leslie pondered this request, but then finally nodded. “Alright. I’ll get you those reinforcements, Garth. You can count on me. But don’t die. If you die…I’ll kill you!” Her blue eyes flashed.
Garth grinned at her, showing off his sharp canines. “I won’t die. Trust me. I’ve got this.”
“I believe in you, Garth MacWulver.” Leslie said passionately. She was both moved and impressed by Garth’s display of bravery and selflessness. What a male he is. I could fall for him if I’m not careful.
“Let’s go, Leslie.” Lachlan snapped impatiently. He didn’t like the way Leslie was looking at Garth one bit.
“Aye.” Leslie agreed. Lachlan and Leslie took off at a gallop, heading towards Castle MacWulver.
Rory was giving Garth a surprised, thankful look. “You didn’t have to stay, lad.”
Garth met Rory’s gaze. “But I wanted to. Now, let’s kick some reiver butt!”
“Aye!”
Garth and Rory began to fight the reivers side by side. Fighting back-to-back they were an incredible, deadly force to be reckoned with.
Dozens of reivers fell to Garth and Rory’s swords in a matter of minutes. Garth had to admit he was impressed by Rory’s swordsmanship and strength. For a human it was unreal. But those skills had obviously been ingrained in him from the time he could walk and hold a sword.
“Someone! Anyone! Help us!” A panicked sounding female voice reached their ears as a woman cried out for help. “Please! Nooo!” The sound of loud sobbing followed soon after.
Garth shot a meaningful look at Rory. Rory nodded in quick agreement. “Go. Save them. I’ll be fine.” The blacksmith assured him.
“Aye.” Garth took off running, heading in the direction the female screams had come from. He turned a corner and entered an alleyway between two shop buildings. His blood ran cold at the sight that met him.
A group of five reivers were taking advantage of three village girls. Three village girls that Garth recognized as having given him directions to Muireall that day about a week ago. That peaceful, carefree day seemed so long ago in that moment.
Now the girls were on the dirty ground, their beautiful tartan plaid dresses torn, and tears were streaming down their faces as the bandits moved over their trembling bodies. The chilled blood in Garth’s veins began to set on fire and burn as hot anger coursed through his veins. He saw red and his eyes glowed like two coals. Garth may have looked like a demon, but those men were the real monsters.
Garth felt his inner beast taking over, and he couldn’t control it. His claymore dropped from his hand and clattered on the ground. He gripped his head and roared. “Rawr!” He was shifting. Orange fur began to sprout on his face, and he could feel his teeth lengthening and becoming sharper. His nails and toenails turned into claws. Two cat-like ears sprouted on top of his head, and then curled horns. His plaid ripped and tore as his body changed shape.
In seconds, Garth had transformed into his Hellcat form. He growled low in his throat to get the reivers’ attention.
The bandits turned to see an enormous demonic tiger suddenly in their midst, and blanched. “A shifter! Bloody hell! Get your weapons!”
But it was already too late.
Garth pounced on the nearest reiver, who was still on top of one of the girls, and knocked him off of her. With a swipe of his paw he’d ripped the man’s throat out.
Garth wasted no time in pouncing another reiver and sinking his razor sharp claws into him from behind. The girl beneath the reiver screamed as she watched enormous, sharp claws emerge out the front of the raider’s chest. Blood poured down onto her bare chest.
The Hellcat sensed an attack from behind, and dodged out of the way. The reiver’s sword ended up stabbing the reiver who Garth had already killed. “You monster!” The bandit yelled as he pulled his sword out of his fallen comrade’s body and attacked the Hellcat again.
Garth opened his maw and bit down on the sword’s blade. The blade shattered and the man’s eyes bulged in shock and horror. He dropped his now useless sword, shook his head fearfully, and turned around to run. Garth took one giant leap, and pounced on the reiver from behind as he fled the alley. The Hellcat sunk his teeth into the reiver’s neck and ripped the man’s head off.
These unscrupulous men didn’t deserve mercy. They deserved slow, painful deaths.
“Look out!” One of the girls called out a warning to Garth.
Garth felt a sword slip into his side, and he roared out in pain and anger. The Hellcat turned to glare at the reiver who’d stabbed him. The bandit pulled his sword out of Garth’s side and moved to attack the Hellcat again. With a swipe of his paw Garth batted the reiver’s sword out of his hand.
“Bloody hell!” The bandit swore and began to back away from Garth.
Garth stalked his prey like a cat cornering a mouse. He smiled at the reiver before he pounced. The Hellcat sank his claws into the man’s chest and killed him instantly.
Garth turned to see if the young women were okay. Well, as ‘okay’ as they could be after what had happened to them. The girls stood up and met Garth’s golden gaze unflinchingly.
“Thank you, Highlander Hellcat. We owe you our lives.” One of the village girls thanked Garth with tears in her eyes as she held her ripped plaid up against her naked body.
Garth nodded, his golden eyes burning. ‘I will avenge you, lassies’ his eyes seemed to say to them.
The girl smiled grimly. “Go…kill them. Kill them all!”
Garth nodded and took off out of the alleyway. He padded down the main dirt road that headed to the market square, and a few yards up ahead a dozen reivers on horseback were approaching him fast. They spotted Garth, and several grabbed their bows and nocked arrows to their bows, which they aimed the Hellcat’s way.
“Look there! It’s a shifter!” One of the reivers called out and barked out orders. “Ready your bows! Aim! Fire!”
A barrage of arrows was loosed upon Garth, who didn’t stop his own forward charge. As the Hellcat ran through the riders, arrows pierced his body, but he ignored the pain. He felt sorry for the horses, but the lives of the villagers were his top priority at this point. As he ran past the warhorses he swiped at their legs with his sharp claws.
In less than a minute, Garth had passed the group of a dozen riders, and turned around to witness the damage he’d just caused them. The horses neighed loudly in distress, and crashed to the dirt road, riders and all.
The reivers cried out in surprise and horror as they went down with their horses. Some were completely thrown off their horses while others were gruesomely crushed by their mounts.
The Hellcat let out a loud triumphant roar before attacking them. The bandits cried out in distress as many tried to get a hold of their weapons before Garth could finish them off. But Garth didn’t give them that chance. The battle that ensued was similar to a large cat pouncing and killing twelve mice in a matter of seconds.
Th
e Hellcat shook his body, and a few of the arrows dislodged themselves. Garth’s attention was drawn to the sound of a large number of horses heading in one particular direction. He decided to head there too and took off.
A few minutes later, Garth was entering the main market square. More than a hundred reivers were gathered there, and Garth spotted a man dressed in full armor sitting on an impressive black warhorse. He was barking orders to his men. “You there! Put that bag of gold over there! Silk - goes over there! Pottery - over there! Jewelry - over there!”
The raiders were depositing large burlap sacks full of stolen goods on the ground in different piles. The bags were filled with bolts of silk or tartan plaid, gold, jewelry, pottery, food and weapons.
The man barking orders was the leader Garth deduced, and by his accent…he was probably English. Garth fearlessly padded his way into the middle of the market square. There was a predatory grace to his movements.
The leader of the reiver gang turned his attention towards the Hellcat, and their gazes clashed. Lightning seemed to crackle between their locked stares. “A shifter…and he’s all alone.” The Englishman smiled menacingly. “Men! Kill that shifter!”
“Aye! Yes, Boss!” The bandits cried out in unison as they unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at Garth threateningly.
Garth looked around at the hundred or so reivers. He was incredibly outnumbered, but he wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t care that his life was being put at risk or in danger. As long as the reivers’ attention was on him - it wasn’t on the villagers and they would have a chance to escape. He would be the greatest decoy ever!
Garth also knew deep in his bones that help was on the way. Lachlan and Leslie had gone to Castle MacWulver, and would be back with reinforcements shortly. He just had to hold out until then.
Don’t die. If you die…I’ll kill you! Leslie’s passionate words rang through his mind.
Garth let out a ferocious roar, and summoned his elemental power. Orange and red flames burst out and surrounded his body, and his eyes glowed like coals. Then he attacked.
The raiders charged and let out war whoops as they engaged Garth in battle.
***
Leslie and Lachlan rode their horses as hard as they were able to Castle MacWulver. “Open the gate!” Lachlan yelled out as they approached the front gate.
“It’s Lachlan and Leslie! Open the gate!” The guards who were positioned on top of the castle wall shouted out to the guards that were on the ground next to the gate. The gate was opened from the inside, and Lachlan and Leslie rode directly into the castle courtyard.
Laird Magnus was currently sparring with his clansmen when Lachlan and Leslie suddenly burst into the courtyard and interrupted their training.
“Laird Magnus!” Leslie called out as she rode Fiona over to the wolf shifter. “The reivers have attacked the village. There are hundreds of them! What should we do?”
Lachlan rode Duff over, and stopped his horse in front of Magnus. “My Laird, if we go to defend the village we’ll be grossly outnumbered. Perhaps, we should fall back to the castle, and wait for the reivers to attack us here.”
A worried look settled over Magnus’s usually carefree face as he thought about the human village that was under Clan MacWulver’s protection. “Reivers. Dammit.” He frowned when he suddenly noticed that Garth wasn’t with the others. “Where’s Garth?”
“Garth chose to stay behind, Milord.” Leslie began to explain. “He wanted to protect Rory the Blacksmith and his family, and the village. We can’t just abandon him. He’s counting on us to return with reinforcements!” There was a fierce look in Leslie’s blue eyes.
“Garth stayed behind to face the reivers all on his own?” Magnus stroked his beard in thought. “Heh…he has guts!” He grinned as he pictured Garth fighting against the bandits single-handedly.
“Hurry! We must get inside the castle!” Lachlan was saying to the shifters, who were watching and waiting for their orders.
“Nay!” Magnus objected loudly. “Nay. As long as there is still a breath left in this cursed body of mine, I am Clan Chief, Lachlan. I would appreciate it if you would remember that. I still give the orders around here - not you. Not yet.” Magnus reminded Lachlan coolly, and rubbed at the tattoo curse on his neck unconsciously. “Men! Clansmen and clanswomen! We will fight! We will ride out to the village immediately and protect the villagers that are under our protection! We will keep our promise to King James!”
“Aye, Laird Magnus!” The shifters cried out in unison.
There was a dark look in Lachlan’s calculating eyes. “Nay? You can’t be serious? It’s…suicide! Why should we risk our lives for those pathetic humans?” He demanded hotly.
Magnus gave Lachlan a pitying look, and shook his head. “Those humans are our only hope - our only chance for redemption. They are God’s precious children. He has not forsaken them yet, and neither shall we!”
“Tch.” Lachlan made a sound of disgust.
“What should we do, Lachlan?” Cormag, who was one of the dragon shifters loyal to Lachlan, asked boldly.
Lachlan frowned. He knew that a large number of the clan would readily go against Magnus’s orders and follow his lead. But not all. And now was not the time to stage a rebellion. Besides, Laird Magnus had been cursed. He was dying. It was only a matter of time. And when Magnus was dead - Lachlan would rule Clan MacWulver!
But the dragon shifter didn’t want to show his hand just yet. He looked at the faces of those shifters he knew were loyal to him. Lachlan unsheathed his claymore and held it high above his head. “We…shall fight! We will protect the village! Let’s make those reivers regret that they dared to come to shifter territory!”
“Aye!” The shifters grabbed their weapons, mounted their horses, and took off for the village. When they reached the village they saw the horrible, sickening destruction that had been caused by the raiders. Thatched roofs were on fire, and the dead bodies of villagers littered the ground. But some of the dead on the ground were reivers.
Tears prickled Leslie’s eyes at the sight of so much blood and carnage. “Are we too late, do you think?”
“He was a fool to risk his life for these pitiful humans.” Lachlan’s lips curled into a sneer.
“A brave fool.” Leslie said softly.
Suddenly, the party of shifters was surrounded by a group of fleeing villagers, but there didn’t appear to be anyone in pursuit of them.
“You there! What’s going on?” Lachlan demanded of a male villager and pointed his sword at him.
The male villager skidded to a halt when he noticed a shifter was addressing him. “It’s…the Highlander Hellcat! He’s fighting the entire reiver gang all on his own! He’s giving us a chance to escape!” The male villager explained to Lachlan with a grin. “He’s…amazing!”
“Garth! He’s talking about Garth! He’s still alive!” Leslie breathed a sigh of relief with tears in her blue eyes.
Lachlan shot Leslie a surprised look. Surprised and unnerved that she would shed tears for a male she barely knew.
“We must hurry! Our clansman needs us!” Magnus shouted loudly to the shifters. “Hyah!” Magnus kicked his horse’s sides and surged ahead of the others with Leslie close behind.
The shifter army entered the market square from a narrow side street and saw that Garth was still fighting the bandits.
Leslie gasped at the sight before her and raised a hand in front of her mouth. There were over one hundred bodies of fallen raiders on the ground. The market square looked as if it’d been painted red with blood. “Oh Garth.” Her heart went out to Garth for having had to face such hardship all on his own.
Garth let out a ferocious roar as he bit the neck off a raider, and looked around for new prey. Anyone who stood in his way to the reiver boss would die.
“Garth!” Leslie called out. “We’re here. We made it.”
Garth tuned and saw the entire shifter army at his
back. Hell yes. Reinforcements. “It’s about bloody time.” The Hellcat replied in a low, growling voice.
Leslie gave Garth a watery smile. “We’ve got your back. Always.”
“Finish their leader! Kill him!” Magnus ordered Garth with a small smile playing on his lips.
Garth set his sights on the reiver leader. “Gladly, my Laird!” The Hellcat began to charge towards the leader.
“Men! Kill him! Get that bloody shifter!” The reiver leader spat angrily with spit flying.
Two reivers stood in Garth’s way and the Hellcat was about to attack them, when they were suddenly mowed out of his way by a charging bear shifter. Nice!
Garth kept on charging the leader as more reivers tried to get in his way, but his fellow shifters handled them. The Hellcat leapt at the reiver leader, who unsheathed his sword, and prepared to meet Garth’s attack.
The demon tiger flew through the air, and his maw closed down around the leader’s sword as he knocked the man off his horse and to the ground. The Hellcat closed his maw and the man’s sword shattered.
The leader quickly scrambled to his feet, and desperately held his hand out towards his nearby allies. “Sword! Quick you bloody imbeciles! Give me a sword!”
A sword was tossed the leader’s way, and he caught it with ease. The leader charged Garth and attacked. The Hellcat dodged the sideways slash, but not quickly enough. The leader’s sword sliced into his upper arm.
Crap. Garth was tiring. Fighting those one hundred reivers had finally taken its toll. His flames had gone out long ago. And this swordsman was fast and highly skilled.
“GARTH!” A familiar male voice shouted loudly.
Garth turned to see Rory holding the claymore the blacksmith had made for him. “Transform and finish him, Garth!”
Garth nodded, and shifted from Hellcat form back into his human form. He started to charge the leader, and Rory threw the sword at Garth. Garth caught it effortlessly without even having to look in the direction it had been thrown from. He swung it at the leader’s head.
The leader raised his sword to block the attack, but Garth’s sword cut through the blade and then severed the leader’s head from his shoulders.
“No…impossible.” The leader mouthed before his head toppled off his body.
Garth raised his bloody sword high and let out a battle cry. “Argh!”
Everyone turned to see that Garth had taken the leader’s head, and the shifters yelled out and cheered loudly. Those in their animal forms let out loud roars and growls.
With their leader dead the reivers lost their will to fight, and began to drop to their knees and drop their weapons in surrender.
Lachlan watched as the cowardly man in front of him dropped his sword, and put his hands up in front of him in a surrendering gesture. Lachlan arched an eyebrow at the man. He thinks he can surrender? Surrender my butt! He swung his sword at the reiver’s head. However-
A sword stopped Lachlan’s finishing blow. Lachlan gawked at the male who’d dared to stop him. Garth had stopped his blow with his sword. “Nay. We’ve had enough killing for one day, I think. Enough blood. Let’s show them mercy.”
“Mercy?” Lachlan scoffed through gritted teeth. “You can’t be serious. These raiders deserve to die for the atrocities they’ve committed!”
Garth shrugged. “Perhaps, but can I say I don’t deserve to die for what I have done? I am not free of sin either. My hands are also stained with blood now.”
“Let anyone of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” Magnus quoted the Bible. “I agree with Garth…this battle is over. We have won! Victory!” He raised his sword high over his head.
“Victory!” The shifters all yelled out loudly as they too raised their swords high over their heads.
Lachlan lowered his sword and grit his teeth out of frustration. He couldn’t go against Magnus’s words, but soon, soon the self-righteous wolf would be dead, and he’d be in control of the clan. Then Clan MacWulver could stop playing nice with these lowly humans. He eyed the tattoo curse on Magnus’s neck. When would Magnus die? Just die already, Magnus!
“Garth…you’re buck naked, you know?” Leslie called out in a coy tone.
Garth flushed as suddenly all the eyes of the female shifters were upon him, and he covered himself with his hands. “Leslie! You wicked lass!”
Leslie cackled gleefully. “Someone get our hero a plaid!”
“Aye!” The shifters called back with amused grins on their faces.
***
That night the front gate of Castle MacWulver was opened, and the villagers were invited to attend a victory party - celebrating the defeat of the reiver gang.
The great hall was packed with humans and shifters seated at the long wooden dining tables while they ate and drank together. The shifters who’d arrived at the village and had faced the last of the reivers before Garth had defeated their leader and essentially ended the battle - were being treated like heroes that night.
The shifter serving girls circulated among the tables with pitchers full of mead and ale, and made sure that everyone’s mug or tankard never went dry.
The reivers who’d surrendered after the death of their leader had been taken prisoner and were currently being held down in the dungeons of Castle MacWulver.
A band of shifter musicians was playing a happy, upbeat, fast-paced Scottish drinking song. And the sound of bagpipes, drums, fiddles and violins filled the great hall, creating a merry atmosphere. Several couples were dancing together, shifters with shifters and shifters with humans.
Leslie had been asked to dance by a human male, and was currently dancing with him across the makeshift dance floor.
Garth shot a worried look Lachlan’s way, wondering if the dragon shifter would kill the poor human man. I wouldn’t want to be in that man’s shoes.
Lachlan sighed and raised an eyebrow at Garth when he noticed the Hellcat staring at him. “No need to worry. I won’t kill that unworthy human that’s dancing with my Leslie. I know that she seeks redemption, and that a relationship with me would be pointless. I understand that. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Garth swallowed when he saw that Lachlan was unconsciously bending his tankard into a small steel ball.
“More ale!” Lachlan held up his warped tankard and a serving wench with bunny ears on the top of her head quickly ran over and began to refill his tankard.
“Aye, Milord.” The bunny shifter said with a flirtatious wink.
Lachlan studiously ignored her advances and she left with a pout to refill the tankards and mugs of some of the other shifter males.
A group of Lachlan’s friends, which consisted of two dragon shifters, a bear shifter and a frog shifter, waved in Lachlan’s direction and called him over. “Ah, my friends want me to go have a drink with them.”
Garth raised his tankard in Lachlan’s direction obligingly. “Go on.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Garth.” Lachlan said before standing up, and making his way over to his friends’ table.
Garth watched Lachlan go and watched as he joined his rowdy friends at the table. They were extremely loud and each of the other shifter males had a shifter female on their lap.
Magnus had been dancing with a group of human females when the song stopped and he excused himself. He sank down in the chair next to Garth, his face ruddy and flushed. His blue eyes were sparkling, and there was a broad smile on his face. “Whew, those lassies sure can dance! I’m getting too old for this!”
Garth raised an eyebrow at his Laird. “But you’re immortal.”
Magnus just laughed loudly, and smiled at Garth. He turned to look at all of the shifters and humans celebrating together in the great hall. “Would you just look at it, Garth. Tis a wondrous sight - humans and shifters celebrating side by side. At peace. When I look at them…I see hope. Hope for my people. Salvation. Redemption.”
A serving wench with cat e
ars on the top of her head brought Magnus a tankard of mead and he drank heartily from it. “Ah!” Magnus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Abruptly, his expression turned serious as he glanced at Garth. “What you did today, Garth, was an incredibly selfless and honorable act. You risked your immortal life to protect the human village and villagers. You protected my hope for my people. You protected my dream of peace between our two races. And for that I thank you.”
Garth flushed at Magnus’s thanks and praise, and took a sip of his ale to hide his discomfort. “It was nothing, Milord. Nothing you wouldn’t have done. The village is under the clan’s protection. I know you would do anything to protect it. It is your duty and responsibility as Clan Chief.”
Magnus nodded agreeably. “You’re right. When I see you look at the humans…I don’t see discrimination in your eyes, Garth. You accept the humans as equals. Don’t you?”
Garth shrugged. “I don’t see that much of a difference between us.”
Magnus grinned at Garth’s words. “I see, I see!” He thumped Garth proudly on the back. “I like the way you think, lad.” Magnus looked around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation before lowering his voice. “That’s why I’ve been thinking…I want you to be my successor.”
Garth had been taking another sip of ale and promptly spit it out. “What? But…you don’t need a successor. First of all, you’re immortal.”
“Immortals can be killed, Garth. But there’s another reason why I need to choose a successor. I’ve been cursed, Garth.” Magnus rubbed his hand over the tattoo of black thorns around his neck. The flesh around the tattoo was red, swollen, and infected.
“Cursed?” Garth’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Deep in the dark woods…there lives an evil, powerful Druidess. A witch. She’s the daughter of a Druid and a female vampire. Her name is Iona.” Magnus began to explain.
Iona? Garth tried to keep a straight face. Magnus was talking about the witch he’d met in the woods. The witch with the bi-colored eyes that he’d had sex with, and let drink his blood.
“Iona fell in love with me and when I refused her advances she drugged me and gave me this cursed tattoo.” Magnus pointed to the tattoo around his neck. “This tattoo will slowly decapitate my neck and there is nothing I can do to stop it.” The wolf shifter revealed softly.
Magnus was dying. Garth shook his head, not wanting to believe it. “No. There must be a way to stop it. What if we ask Iona to cure you?”
Magnus shook his head. “The witch will not listen to me. It is a hopeless case. I’m dying, Garth. I won’t last the month. That’s why I want you to become the next Clan Chief. The new leader of Clan MacWulver. I know you would protect my people and do what is right for them. I know you would protect their hope. I know you would help them all to find true love and to be redeemed.”
A deep frown formed on Garth’s face. “What about Lachlan? I know he wants to lead.” Garth glanced over at Lachlan who was still drinking with his friends. He noted the admiring looks they were giving him. “The clansmen would follow him. So many respect and admire him. He’s very charismatic. He would make a good Clan Chief.”
“Aye, he would make a good Clan Chief but not a great one. Lachlan looks down on the humans. He sees them as lesser beings. His love for Leslie has blinded him to the true path he must tread to redemption. I fear the direction in which Lachlan would take the clan. I fear everyone would stray from the righteous path. The path that leads to redemption. On the other hand, I know that you would protect my clan’s hope. I believe in you, Garth. And I trust you. That’s why I want to entrust this clan and the village to you.” Magnus reiterated.
Garth glanced over at Lachlan again and noticed that the male was keeping an eye on Leslie. Lachlan was powerful and intelligent, but Magnus was right. He looked down on the humans, and would destroy the clan’s hope. Lachlan’s love for Leslie was guiding him down the wrong path.
Garth didn’t know the first thing about love, but he understood the hope for redemption that it represented. The clan…needed love. Garth let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Aye. I understand. I won’t let you down. I will protect this clan and the human village with my life.”
Magnus’s blue eyes watered and he patted Garth’s arm affectionately. “I thank you, lad.” Now I can pass on in peace.
To be continued in…Candy 8: Payday