“Don’t you ken who this is?” the fat one said.
“A prisoner like the rest. He said we need all the help we can get. You were there when he said it, weren’t you?”
“Aye, I was there.”
“So, he’s a prisoner, so we take him with us.”
“This is Wallace MacGregor. You think he would fight to save the MacCallisters? The man is scum as was his clan. Come on, we are wasting time.”
“What’s going on?” Wallace asked, surprised by how strong his voice sounded. It had been a long time since he’d talked out loud and although his throat was dry, his voice was loud enough to make both men stop. “Are you under attack?”
“It’s nothing you need concern yourself with,”the thin man replied. “When we’ve defeated him maybe we’ll come and tell you all about it.”
“Defeated who? Maybe I can help. If you would just undo these chains-”
The fat man laughed. “What? You would climb into a suit of armor and defeat the barefoot man single-handed, is that it? You who have lived in a dungeon all these years. Jings, I bet if I gave you a sword it would slip from your fingers and stab you in the foot.”
Wallace sat upright, not sure he’d heard them right. “Did you say you were fighting the barefoot man?”
“Aye, what of it.”
“You need all the help you can get. Do you not ken the stories of that demon?”
“Mere tales to frighten children into behaving. He is a man, flesh and blood. We are MacCallisters. We will defeat him like we defeated your father, swiftly and simply.”
“Is that why you’ve been sent to the dungeon to recruit prisoners to your cause? You need me and my sword. I have the strength of Jock MacGregor flowing through my veins. If you are to stand any chance-”
“We will not let our mortal enemy loose amongus. I ken what you wish. You wish to distract us long enough to let that villain into our midst.”
“You must free me. You need all the men you can get if you are to stand a chance. My father fought him once and-”
“And your father is dead.”
“Listen to me. You must allow me to help.”
“The last thing we need is you. He is just a man and we are ready for him. We will go down in history as the clan that defeated the barefoot man once and for all.”
“He will kill you.”
“Come on,” the thin man said, tugging at his colleague’s arm. “Leave him to his fate.”
“We will come and see you after the battle,” the fat man said, taking a step toward him. “See if you’ve recovered from this.”
“From what?”
A clenched fist came down on Wallace’s head.
The next thing he knew, he was coming to and the intruders were long gone. How many hours had he been knocked out? There was no noise of a bell ringing anymore but there was something in its place.
The sound of battle. He could hear the faint noise of swords clashing, men screaming and shouting.He ached to be alongside them, to make use of his arms at last, his muscles straining to be put to the test.
He hated the MacCallisters and all they stood for but against the barefoot man he would have fought by their side as bravely as any of his ancestors.
Some things were bigger than clan rivalries. It spoke of their arrogance that they would rather he remain prisoner than have one more man fighting with them against the demon that was coming.
The barefoot man.
They might think the tales were nursery stories, but he remembered the words of the village, tales of the man who had once swept the highlands, killing without mercy, taking one castle after another.
