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There was something in the air, some kind of freshness that was sweet when Douglas Galbrith breathed it in. He stroked his long beard and brushed strands of stark red hair away from his face, revealing a terrible scar that ran down his left cheek. He had recently turned thirty, and his body showed all the signs of having lived a hard life, for life was always hard in the Highlands.

A fire crackled beside a stone table, upon which rudimentary plans were being marked with pine cones, branches, and stones. The fire gleamed against the stone surface, making it glow, almost as if it was under some enchantment. Douglas enjoyed feeling the warmth against his skin. It reminded him he was alive. In the background, people were busying themselves, roasting meat for the feast later, hammering out weapons, skinning animals for their hides, and generally making sure that the clan had everything it needed to prosper.

“Is this finally the time for us tae strike?” Douglas asked.

“Aye,” Laird Wallace said in a satisfied whisper.

The man was Douglas’s uncle and cared for him from a young age, ever since Douglas’s parents had been killed. Laird Wallace was a proud man. He wore a dark cloak, and his eyes were as beady as a crow’s. The only other man present was Fergus Rae, a man of similar height and stature to Douglas, whose eyes burned with fire and who always managed to get under Douglas’s skin.

“Finally, we will hae our revenge on the English,” Fergus said, clenching his fist and nodding toward Laird Wallace.

“It haes been a long time coming. I hae waited years for this moment, and I haed no idea it would taste this sweet.” Laird Wallace lifted his head back and seemed to sip from the empty air as he savored this moment.

“What is the plan, Uncle?” Douglas asked.

Laird Wallace’s eyes gleamed as he spoke, evidently excited about the plan he had formed.

“We are gaeing tae strike at their estates first, attacking on the borders where their forces are weakest. They hae been blights on our land for tae long, and I know they are plotting tae expand even farther intae our land. That’s what the English dae. They are like rot that plagues the crops. If we dinnae stop them, they will only ravage our land, and we will be pushed higher and higher up until we are living in the mountains! We must make our stand before it is tae late. Once we hae a foothold in their territory, they will know the fear that we hae felt in the past, and they will shake in terror. If they attack, we will fight them off, and if they dinnae, then we will move tae take back what is rightfully ours. If we can secure this border, our names will gae down in history, and we will hae warriors flocking tae our cause, and then the whole of Scotland will be ours.”

“The whole of Scotland? Dinnae ye think ye are being tae ambitious?” Douglas asked.

He regretted his words when the smile fell from Laird Wallace’s face, and a sharp glare stabbed at him through the air.

“How dare ye speak against the laird’s plan!” Fergus said, always quick to come to the defense of Laird Wallace. “There’s nothing we cannae accomplish with Laird Wallace leading us.”

Douglas had to laugh. Fergus’s attempts to court favor with the laird were transparent, although Laird Wallace did seem to appreciate flattery.

“This country haes nae been ours for a long time. First, the Vikings came over with their raiding parties and established colonies. They mated with our women and built settlements, and they took away what haes always been ours. I’m nae saying they dinnae dae any good for our land, but it’s about time that the people of Scotland remember who they are. We hae been divided intae clans for tae long. It’s getting time when we should be thinking about the grander picture. There needs tae be a true leader of Scotland, one that will unify the clans and summon the might of the Highlands tae fight against the English and whoever dares tae stand against us.”

“And ye will be a worthy king, my laird,” Fergus said, bowing his head so low that he almost kissed the ground.

It wasn’t the only thing he was kissing, Douglas thought. Douglas kept his lips tightly shut. The plan was indeed a grand one, perhaps too ambitious, but Douglas wasn’t going to speak against the desires of his uncle.

“Before we take Scotland, we hae tae take these estates first,” Douglas said.

Fergus glared at him as he rose back up to his full standing height, which was a few inches short of Douglas.

“Aye,” Laird Wallace agreed, “sae we are gaeing tae learn from the Vikings.”

“I thought we hated the Vikings?” Fergus asked.

“Aye, we dae, but that doesnae mean we cannae learn from them. Ye can always learn from people, even yer enemies. Look at the way they used tae raid us, sending their savage warriors over here and rampaging through the villages. They preyed on the weak at first, and the fear they inspired helped drive people intae a frenzy at the mere whisper of the name. We must dae this as well.” He clasped his fist tightly as he said this. “We must be the storm, and if anyone escapes the hunt, I want them tae run tae the nearest castle and weep out their fear in front of their countrymen. I want people tae tremble when they hear the name of my clan. We will be savage. We will be fierce. We will be merciless.”

“It sounds like a great plan, and it will be a fine honor tae ride intae battle with ye,” Fergus said.

“We will nae be riding intae battle taegether. I am taking a force over here”—Laird Wallace moved a stone on the makeshift map, the smoothest and largest and most opulent stone representing him, of course—“while ye and Douglas will attack an estate here. I want tae strike two targets tae make people believe we could be everywhere at once, and I never want them tae guess where we’re gaeing tae strike next.”

Douglas couldn’t fail to notice the tension that suddenly arose between himself and Fergus.

“And who are ye choosing tae lead this attack?” Fergus asked.

Douglas straightened his back and lifted his head high, for he wanted the role, as did Fergus. The men’s rivalry was borne from their ambition. Both of them wanted to be seen as Laird Wallace’s trusted second-in-command for different reasons. Douglas was Laird Wallace’s blood, and without his parents, he had no other kin to pledge himself to. He wanted to become an integral part of the clan. In Fergus’s case, the man had been an orphan and wanted to prove himself.

Laird Wallace wasn’t blind to the enmity these two men had for each other. The gaze of his dark eyes shifted between the two of them, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a wry smile.

“On this first attack, it will be my blood who leads, but there will be plenty of opportunity for glory on this march, and by the end, there will be plenty of land tae gae around as well. I promise ye that ye will hae no shortage of men tae command and villains tae fight,” he said.