Page 33 of The Return of the Heir

Alastair swung his sword. “The same way they took it from us. In secret.”

Graeme feinted to the right, avoiding the blow. “Perhaps Rowena’s new beau is not such an ill-conceived connection after all.”

“Perhaps not,” Alastair agreed. When he’d first arrived home, his goal had been to replace the flag with a copy. Was there truly hope of retrieving the original flag from the MacDonalds? Would Marcus help with such a plan? It was worth exploring. In the meanwhile, he and Rowena would continue with their plans to pass off a counterfeit in order to rally the clan members’ spirits. Even Graeme did not know of his plans.

Graeme’s family had always been the flag bearer when the Fairy Flag had been taken with the clan into battle. Alastair was not certain Graeme would agree with his plans to present the clan with a false rendering of their precious gift from the fairies. For now, the creation of such a flag had to remain between only himself, Rowena, and their laundress, Roberta.

Clearing his thoughts, Alastair went on the attack. His and Graeme’s blades clashed again and again, the clink of steel creating rhythmic sounds that reverberated through the morning air. It was a sound he’d heard often as a young boy as he, Tormod, and Orrick had learned to fight. As his sword cut through the air, a pulse entered his blood, bringing a renewed sense of purpose to his soul. He was here to negotiate peace, but never at the expense of defending his clan and all those he loved.

Alastair paused to savour the feeling. In that moment, Graeme advanced. His captain of the guard swiped his sword upwards, catching Alastair’s arm and tossing him to the ground.

“Ha!” Graeme exclaimed. “I couldn’t let you best me every time.” The other men gathered around and applauded while Graeme offered Alastair a hand up.

On his feet once more, Alastair sheathed his sword. “All this practise is for one purpose alone, whether we win or lose while sparring. It is to make sure we have the skills necessary to protect each other when the battle turns serious.”

A chorus of “ayes” rang out.

“When will you call for a meeting of the Isle Council?” Graeme asked.

“If all of you continue to improve as much as you have in the past few hours, then I feel safe in calling the clans together on the morrow.”

“We’ll be ready for battle if that’s what it comes to,” one warrior said.

“We will make you proud,” another warrior shouted from the crowd.

“I am already proud of all of you.” Alastair turned to look at his men—all his men. “Keep up your practise, work on your skills, and challenge each other.”

“Aye!” They shouted as they returned to their mock battles.

Graeme sheathed his weapon. “If you’ll gather on the morrow, then you’ll need me and a few of the men to alert the other clan leaders on the isles.”

Alastair nodded as he once more observed his men. They all seemed so eager to learn, and yet one of them was working against them. “Thank you, Graeme. I also have another task for you as well that will make certain we will have the advantage when it comes to battling the clans or the English.”

Graeme raised a brow. “A secret mission. You know how much I enjoy those.”

“Take Crayton and Mathe with you. They have been loyal to you and me in the past. We can trust them. Everyone else is still under suspicion until I can determine who helped Garrick MacDonald escape.”