A low hiss sounded from the guard while he stepped toward the cell, lifting the keys, preparing to unlock it. He was going to beat the piss out of the lad.
“Leave him be!” Callum called out. “He is simply a lad. You bruise a lad, it only shows poorly upon your merit as a warrior. We would not wish for you to appear the dimwit you are, now, would we?”
The guard paused while glaring at him. “Sir Callum, make certain your tongue stays sharp, as it will be the only weapon in your grasp. I shall return in but a moment.” The guard took a step then glanced back at Callum. “Do not venture anywhere.” A cruel laugh aired from him at his own dry jest while he disappeared. Arsehole.
The lad’s chin raised. “The effort is appreciated, but I do not need a nursemaid, old knight.”
“Old?” Callum’s brow raised. “Pray tell, what is your year count?”
“Ten and six. You?”
“A score and four.”
“Aye, old.”
“He would never hold the title of gestr,” Holger mumbled under his breath. “Arrogant ‘wee’ shit.”
“’Tis better than my face lookin’ like red shite, friend.”
“Cares for the word ‘shite’, does he not?” Brayden leapt into the conversation.
Callum looked at the youth and grinned.
“What are you smilin’ at, old knight?”
“Fire,” Callum replied. “You have an anger hot as the forge you work upon. This is a brilliant find for the purpose which lay ahead.”
“The only ‘purpose’ which lay ahead is me findin’ my way out of this shite keep and helpin’ my kin.”
“What is your clan?” Callum questioned.
“MacKurryn.”As suspected, one of the missing smiths.
“You are the lad of a croft tenant who is a sheep herder far north of here?”
The green eyes narrowed. “Aye, the shite, Lord MacMardan stole me from my kin. I tried to escape a fortnight past but got caught and was told he burnt my kin’s croft buildings to the ground as punishment for my behavior. I do not know if my kin are still alive.”
“They live,” Callum assured.
The lad gripped the bars. “You know of this how?”
“My betrothed saved them; your sire, mother, and wee brother are safe when I last saw them.”
The tense shoulders lowered. “I am Kameron MacKurryn, finest smith’s apprentice in all the Highlands and fiercest with a hammer – any hammer.”
“Hammer? Well, perhaps he would make a gestr yet, Lord Kolson,” Brayden quipped.
“You are Sir Callum?” Kameron questioned.
“I am.”
“There is a knight who is the royal guard’s captain of the same title.” Kameron leaned forward.
“There is.” Callum nodded.
“You be him?” Kameron’s eyes doubled.
“Aye.”
