"Weel, then, two at a go. Alexander makes it even."
"Wheesht, ye are a boaster, are ye not?” muttered Duncan.
Glancing at all the bared chests of his opponents and seeing that, despite the slender build of some, they were a strong collection, Iain thought he was too, but drawled, “T'will get the business done faster. I havenae supped yet, ye ken."
"Me and Alex will have at ye first,” growled Duncan as he advanced. “I mean to knock ye on your arse, MacLagan."
He did just that but Iain quickly recovered. His main objective was to down his opponents as quickly as possible in order to have enough strength to get through all of them without too many injuries. Duncan was good but his method was easily guessed and Iain soon sent him down. Alexander went down an instant later and, although he was fully able to get up and continue, simply began to laugh.
"I had forgotten how cursed quick ye are, Iain."
"Had enough then?"
"Aye. I just wanted a wee knock or two."
Malcolm and Leith were next. Iain saw that the MacRoths were indeed fighting men. They had clearly watched him closely, learning his manner of fighting. It was a lot harder to bring them down.
By the time he faced the twins, the last pair of opponents, Iain was surprised that he was still standing. He knew he had done himself proud, something aided by the fact that his opponents were considering a good knock down enough to end it, even if they were still conscious. If he had had to fight each one until they were totally incapacitated he felt sure he would never have gotten past the first four.
He knew he had been right about what the fight would accomplish when he heard Calum say, “Mayhaps we ought to let him catch his breath first."
"Dinnae be daft. If we do that he will knock us on our arses,” Donald said cheerfully, then charged Iain.
Iain sidestepped Donald's charge and booted the youth in the backside much to the amusement of his men. He was not quick enough to elude Calum's charge, however, and hit the ground hard. Donald was quick to join in and Iain was not really able to discern who was doing what to whom in the ensuing melee. He was barely conscious when the fighting ended, the twins collapsing beside him upon the ground. Wincing as he partly raised himself up on his elbows, Iain saw that neither was unconscious, that they had simply quit, deciding that they had had enough.
"Who won then?” he rasped and everyone laughed.
"Weel,” Robert said as he helped a groggy Leith to stand, “we best get back so that Islaen can glare and mutter."
"Mutter?” Iain mumbled as two of his men helped him to his feet.
"Aye, mutter.” Nathan shook his head. “She mutters when she is too angry to think of what she really wants to say or to get the words out clear and all."
When the men finally staggered back into camp, Islaen glared at them. Iain looked terrible but she had seen the results of too many fights and knew that he was not nearly as bad as he looked. She also noted fleetingly that he had indeed given as good as he had gotten. When she heard them jesting and talking about the battle as if it was something wonderful, she was sorely tempted to leave them all to wallow in their own blood and grime.
Muttering about the incomprehensible foolishness of men, Islaen gathered up what she needed to tend to Iain. Stalking over to where his men had helped him to lie down, she gave him one fierce glare and then set about tending his bruises and abrasions, muttering all the while about the silliness of grown men. She wondered crossly why he kept smiling.
Glancing around she decided her help was not really needed elsewhere. Since she had already eaten and Iain refused her grumbled offer of food, she decided she might as well turn in for the night. Still grumbling, she prepared for bed and then joined him beneath the blankets. When he laughed softly she turned to glare at him.
"Just what do ye find so amusing? Do ye enjoy the pain of being bashed about?"
"Nay, though it was a good fight. Nathan's right,” he said with a smile. “Ye do mutter. I will be fine come morning, little one."
"Humph. Ye will be as stiff as a wet cloth put out of a winter's frosty morn."
"Aye, most like but t'will pass. It was a thing that had to be done."
"So ye all tell me but I dinnae understand it."
"Nay, I didnae think ye would. Truth tell, I cannae really explain it. There was anger sitting atween me and your brothers, lass, an anger I earned, I ken that weel. We beat it out of us ‘tis all. Ye will see. T'will be there no longer."
In the morning as her brothers, Alexander and Iain mounted their horses with a great deal of groaning and gritting of teeth, Islaen watched them closely. It did not take her long to see that Iain was right. The tension that had existed between her husband and her brothers, one that had deeply troubled her, was gone. She was glad of it although she still did not really understand the whole business.
By the time everyone's bruises were starting to heal they had reached the point in their journey where her kin would leave them. Islaen knew it was foolish but she could not fully repress the fear their leaving instilled within her. She could not stop them for Colin had sent word that the English had raided. Her family was needed at home and could not continue on to Caraidland as had originally been planned. Since she loved Iain it puzzled her that her family's leaving should make her feel so all alone. She had to fight tears as she kissed each brother farewell.
"We will come to meet with Iain's family as soon as we can, lass,” Alaistair promised.
"I ken it, Fither.” She returned his kiss and then hugged him for a moment.
