Page 74 of Highlander’s Evil Side

Chapter Thirty-One

Fraser

Fraser groaned, his head swaying from side to side as he sat in the cave. Torches flickered around him. The sound of boots hitting stone made him lift his head, open his eyes. He blinked, his body shivering as Murdo appeared before him.

Several men gathered around Murdo, pointing their swords at Fraser. Kenneth and Gavin were bound together in the corner of the cave. Gavin’s head hung. His eyes were closed, and his breath was coming out in pants. Fraser worried he had the fever, that his injury was worsening with infection.

“Please,” Fraser croaked. “Let us go.”

Murdo chuckled while crouching in front of Fraser, holding up a torch to get a better view of his face. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Fraser stilled. “Why?” he whispered, knowing he would hate the answer. There was something crazed in Murdo’s gaze, something that made Fraser’s blood run cold and his stomach seize. Yet, no matter how nauseous Fraser felt, there was nothing in him to retch.

“Why?” Murdo laughed. “Yer to be married, of course, A lucky lad ye are. The men tell me she’s a bonnie lass indeed.” Murdo groaned while rising. “It won’t be long now.”

“Married?” Fraser whispered. “But, the wedding isn’t—”

Murdo crossed his arms. “The wedding is whenever Laird MacClery says it is.”

“Please,” Fraser begged. “Don’t do this. I can pardon ye. If ye release us, I will let ye go. Just let me return to my people. Let me save Beitris. She needs my help. I have to get to her.”

Murdo scoffed. “Let ye go? Pardon me?” He shrugged. “I’m fine where I’m at, lad. I don’t need yer pardons. They will do nae good for me.”

Fraser grimaced as he felt desperation seep into him. “Please,” he begged. “There must be something I can do. Anything. I will give ye anything.”

Murdo chuckled and craned his head towards Fraser. “Can ye give me Hendry’s head?”

Fraser grimaced while Murdo clucked his tongue.

“I suppose ye can’t now, can ye? Laird’s honor, or something dull and boring like that.” Murdo sighed while picking the dirt from his nails. “I suppose I would rather cut it from his neck me self.” He shook his head and sighed. “Nae, there is naething ye can do for me lad. The only thing that can satisfy me is seeing the Dunbar Clan destroyed and Hendry’s head on a pike. That lad thinks he can best me. He thinks I’m long gone.” Murdo flashed a wicked grin. “He has another thing coming.”

“And Finnegan has offered to help ye?” Fraser wiggled in his confines.

The rope was biting into his skin, but there was a sharp rock behind him. Fraser focused on rubbing the rope against it, feeling it fray. If he kept Murdo talking, he could probably cut through them without the elder brigand noticing. He glanced at the guards standing behind Murdo. They scowled back at him. Fraser stopped moving, worried they would notice. He needed to be careful, move slowly so they wouldn’t move him. Once he was free, he would need to get to a sword, but even then, he was outnumbered. There had to be a way out.

Murdo nodded vigorously. “Of course he has. Once he’s laird, we’ll burn Hendry’s clan to the ground, which is exactly where it should be after all these years.”

Fraser frowned. Something flickered in the distance, and the sound of water splashing jerked the guard’s attention towards the entrance of the cave. One walked along the stone path, disappearing into the darkness.

“But why?” Fraser asked, his tone desperate while he continued rubbing the rope against the stone. “Isn’t Hendry married to yer daughter? Why would ye want to harm her husband? Don’t ye care for the lass?”

Murdo laughed bitterly. “She’s nae daughter of mine. Not anymore. I have more love for the dirt under my boots than a scrawny little vermin like her.”

Fraser sighed when the rope wouldn’t give. He leaned his head against the stone. His tongue was dry. His body ached. He didn’t know how many days passed since he was taken, if any at all, but he knew it must have been at least a day. A day without water and bread. His stomach gurgled angrily in reply.

“Why don’t ye kill me?” Fraser asked. “If ye have nae use for me, why don’t ye be rid of me?”

Another splash sounded, and Murdo jerked around, scowling at the darkness. “Go see to that,” he said gruffly to his guard.

“Aye, Sire,” said the guard earnestly while stepping onto the path.

Murdo turned back to Fraser. He crouched low and leaned towards Fraser. “Because yer worth more alive than dead.”

Fraser’s brow tented in confusion. “I thought I was to be sent to the New World if I’m to live?”

Murdo scoffed. “I’ve worked with Finnegan longer than I have ought to. I know the lad well. We’re more alike than not, him and I.” Murdo chuckled. “If he stabs me in the back, I have something to use against him.” Murdo pointed at Fraser. “I suppose he wouldn’t want an imposter haunting his walls and whispering to his villagers nor anything of the like he’s put ye through.”

Something flashed in the distance, and Fraser sat up straighter, wondering if it was the guards returning from their scout. However, their forms looked longer. Their swords were drawn. Murdo followed Fraser’s gaze, his eyes narrowing and his hand hovering above his hilt.