Page 27

“Ye know…before we leave…we may never get a chance tae see each other again. A battle can be unpredictable, and we never know—” she began, but Varrik cut her off by placing a finger upon her soft lips.

“Whatever we have to say to each other, we’ll say when this is over. I believe that the gods will have mercy on us,” he said. He left her with a kiss, and then he was a ghost.

Laird Fletcher was sitting in the room that had been given to him during his stay. Lightning flickered across the horizon, and in the distance, thunder rolled. Raindrops poured down the window, leaving long patterns, as though fingers were being dragged across the building. Laird Fletcher watched the storm intently. He had always been fascinated by the fury of nature, and he saw it as a sign that the world would soon be cleansed of these rotten Vikings. The Fletcher clan would soon rise, escaping from their barren, unforgiving land. Finally, they would be given the chance to seed a prosperous future for themselves, and he was the one at the forefront of it all. He was the one who had broken the chain, and his name would live long in the infamy of his clan. He would be a Highland hero like the ones of old.

Lightning flashed within his eyes, and his smile grew wider.

Then one of his men burst through his door. The guard was sopping wet.

“What are ye daeing here?” Laird Fletcher growled.

The guard left a trail of dripping water behind as he approached the laird and bowed his head respectfully.

“I dinnae mean tae disturb ye, but there haes been trouble. Brynn went tae check on the prisoner in the storm, and he never came back. When I went tae check on him, I discovered the prison haes been broken! The storm cracked the wood. The Viking haes escaped, and Brynn…I dinnae ken where Brynn is.”

Laird Fletcher scowled but spared no sorrow for the missing guard. It wasn’t as though anything ever went smoothly for him. If the Viking escaped, then he might cause issues.

“Send men tae look for him, although I doubt he got far in this storm. Did ye check all in the pit?”

“Well, I looked as much as I could, but I didnae dare gae in there myself in case I was lost, especially nae in this weather,” the guard said.

Laird Fletcher sighed at the ineptitude and cowardice of his men. He longed for the day when he had more brave soldiers to command, when he didn’t have to look upon the men of his clan with shame.

“Well, if ye dinnae check properly, then it might well be that he’s still in the pit. If we haed any luck, this storm would hae drowned him. Either way, I doubt he got far, and if he escaped, then he’s only gaeing tae flee. That’s what cowards like him dae. He’s nae gaeing tae show his face around here again because he knows that he haes already lost. And if ye see him, kill him. I dinnae want tae be burdened with his presence again. Gae and tell the men tae prepare for the plan. It’s almost time tae see this through tae the end.”

The guard clasped his hands together and bowed again as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Laird Fletcher went back to watching the storm, dismissing the anger that flared within him. It was only a momentary setback, and it wouldn’t change anything. The Viking wouldn’t have been able to change anything even if he tried. It was all too late for that. Laird Fletcher had won, and there was nothing that could prevent him from dragging his clan all the way to the summit of pride.