Page 23 of Highlander’s False Identity

“Edme, are ye alright, lass?” said Beathan, expecting Edme to look relieved and run into his arms. He was somewhat disappointed when she did not. Instead, she just stared at him, opened mouthed.

“Come on, lass, what are ye waiting for?” Beathan asked, this time regarding her slowly. He checked her mentally for signs of injury; there weren’t any.

He began walking to the horses, expecting her to follow. Without looking, he added, “It’s all over now, lass. He cannae hurt ye now!”

“Nae, but I can!”

A voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Beathan turned to see a brown-eyed officer, who had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere –with a knife at Edme’s throat.

“Beathan!” screamed Edme in terror.

“Touch her, an’ I will kill ye all!” Beathan yelled, straining to reach him.

The brown-eyed soldier gave a cruel laugh. “Ye an’ whose army?” he said, looking around. “I’ll do what I wish with the tart!” he announced, as Edme quivered in his grip.

Beathan felt his face burn with anger. But before he could get close, the soldier pushed her to the ground, hard.

“Now get ready for a real man, wench!” he laughed.

“Nae!” Beathan summoned every ounce of energy in his body and launched himself on top of the Englishman, punching him violently in the face. Before his nose even had a chance to bleed, he pushed him down, squashing his face into a sharp bramble.

“Ye arenae gonna be having yer way wi’ any lasses anytime soon!” she hissed, looking so genuinely scary that even Beathan almost backed away from her.

“He’s nae gonna be doing anything!” Beathan chimed in, about to place his hand on her shoulder to stop her progress toward the fallen soldier. But just as he was about to bring his arm down on top of hers, he paused.

It only took a second, but it was enough time for the man on the ground to reach for his weapon. Beathan did not notice the brown-eyed soldier getting ready to mount a fightback, but Edme had.

Without a word, she was bearing down on him, producing a jeweled sword from within her person.

Beathan gasped. It was his sword! But this was no time to ask for explanations, and he watched, in admiration, at Edme’s very able handling of the Craig clan sgian dubh.

Edme certainly knew what she was doing, and without any intervention, had the terrified soldier firmly pressed against the thick, wet grass which grew alongside the riverbank.

“Please, I…,” begged the cur, but Edme snarled. She was about to hit him over the head with the heavily jeweled dagger handle when a flying blade hit the man squarely between the eyes. He was dead before she even had a chance to see where it came from.

Astonished, she turned to face Beathan, who grinned at her.

“Nae a bad shot, ye ken?” he said, feeling pleased with himself. He reached over to Edme, offering her a friendly arm. To his surprise, she did not look happy.

“What did ye do that for?” she barked at him. She still had the sgian dubh pointed at him, its tip gleaming in the pale sunlight. She looked wild, her honeyed locks flying around her head crazily.

“What do ye mean?” asked Beathan, slightly in awe of this mad girl.

“I mean, I wanted to slit his throat! Why did ye ruin it for me?” she practically spat in his face.

“Och, I’m nae stopping ye doin’ anything lassie – I wouldnae dare!” he quipped. “Yer far scarier than any Englishman!”

His words were in jest, but they were not far from the truth. He had only just recovered from the first fight, and her acrobatics with the sword had both impressed and unnerved him, in equal measure.

But he did not show it in his outward features. Instead, Beathan settled himself down and marched over to her. Placing a firm hand on her shoulder, he led her away from the still-warm corpse and back towards his horse.

Before they got too far, a twig snapped from somewhere behind. The pair turned around to look, and in front of them was another man.

Judging by his uniform, this one was a captain.

The tall Englishman commanded them imperiously, “Stop, in the name of the King. Ye are both under arrest!” In his hands was a heavy blunderbuss pointed straight at Edme.

“Get down,” he yelled, pulling Edme over into the branches of the Scots Pine next to them. With a single motion, he brought her down and had simultaneously kicked the weapon from the lanky captain’s hands before he managed to load it.