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Laird Wallace had wished Douglas good hunting as Douglas peeled off from the main force to attack the small country estate on the border. Douglas didn’t know anything about the people in the estate other than that they were English, and that was enough. Hatred burned in his stomach toward them after what they had done to his parents. As far as he was concerned, the English had no noble blood in their veins, and the more of their blood that was spilled, the better. They had never been anything but a thorn in the side of Highlanders. The Vikings had been bad enough, but at least they had built settlements and ingratiated themselves with the Highland clans. The English had always had this air of superiority about them, as though Highlanders were nothing but stains that needed to be wiped from their shoes. He was quite sure that they were ashamed of even being connected to Scotland, and this also fueled Douglas’s anger.

His horse thundered across the field toward the estate. A heavy sword hung by his side, one that he was sure would be bathed in blood before the day was done. His eyes were filled with ambition as he knew that this was merely the first step toward his march for greatness. Each battle was a rung on a ladder that would lead to the throne. Like his uncle, he needed to think about the wider picture of the future, about a life after his uncle had passed into the stars like his father. One day, Douglas would be left all alone, and he wanted to ensure he was standing taller than anyone else, including Fergus.

So far, Fergus hadn’t dared make any move against Douglas, although Douglas was keeping a wary eye on him. Fergus wouldn’t risk upsetting Laird Wallace, and right now, Douglas was integral to carrying out the laird’s plan. Fergus would wait until the opportunity was right, so Douglas had to ensure he made no mistakes.

Douglas hadn’t been this far south for a while, but he was struck by how the land didn’t change at all. There was no difference between their land and the land the English considered their own apart from whatever borders had been drawn on a map somewhere. It contained the same beauty, the same allure, and if he were truly thinking about the bigger picture, then he would have considered the fact that it would be there long after the Highlanders and the English had faded into obscurity.

They came to a field they had to cross before they reached the estate. Before they arrived, Fergus had suggested to Douglas that they change direction and skulk through a forest to spring a surprise on the estate, but Douglas had shaken his head.

“Remember what my uncle told us about learning from the Vikings? When they attacked the shores, their longboats would hae been visible for miles. Even though the Highlanders had a chance tae prepare, it made no difference. That’s the feeling we hae tae give them, this feeling of hopelessness. I want them tae see us and understand they can dae nothing tae save themselves,” he said. “We haed tae be the storm, remember, and ye can always sense when a storm is coming, but ye cannae dae anything about it.”

Fergus was annoyed that his suggestion had been summarily dismissed, but Douglas had conviction of his words.

The large house loomed on the horizon. It was not a big place; there were stables attached to the house and a small courtyard where a well stood. A small wall ran around the perimeter, which would not cause much trouble at all. But there was something that caught Douglas’s eye: movement on the horizon. A dress billowed in the wind, and a golden ponytail swung like a pendulum behind the girl who was running toward the house. Douglas wore a grim smile as he realized that this could be his first prisoner.

He geed his horse and increased his speed across the field, getting ever closer to the girl. The other warriors of his were close by, following his lead. Douglas judged his movements and then leaned down, gathering the girl up in his strong arm as he passed her. He pulled her up onto his horse without any difficulty at all. She was so slender, she might well have been blown away by a gust of wind, and she could offer no resistance to the powerful muscles of his mighty frame, which stood well over six feet.

She whimpered and screamed and yelled as she was lifted against her will onto his horse. Her weak fists beat against him, but he barely felt the blows. The act of pulling her up had loosened her hair, and it now fell around her face like a golden veil. She hissed and cursed and threatened him, but Douglas knew they were empty threats.

He kept one hand on the reins, and in the other, he held her wrists tightly together, for his hands were strong enough to hold them both. She struggled as they made their way to the estate, and Douglas was certain that this endeavor was going to be a success.

The alarm had been raised before they had arrived. People were pouring out of the building, scurrying in every direction to try and escape the doom that was going to befall them. The horses jumped over the small wall. Douglas barked orders at some of his men to go chasing for the ones who had escaped, while the rest alighted from their horses and strode toward the estate itself.

Douglas wanted to keep this girl to prove to everyone in the estate that there was no chance of them escaping. He lifted her off her feet and carried her like a sack of potatoes. She continued to hit him, and he couldn’t help but admire the fight within her despite her size and her weakness. He angled his head away as she tried to scratch his eyes, and it was almost a game to him, as though he was a cat toying with a mouse. It was in her best interest to be still, though; otherwise, she would find herself thrown to the ground without any mercy at all.

The Highlanders ran around him, bursting into the house like an inferno. Ornaments crashed as they were pushed over, doors were kicked in, and people screamed from all parts of the house. Each Highland warrior remembered the example they had been given. They were as vicious as Vikings, and the fear of the English was so palpable that Douglas could smell it in the air.

Douglas watched as people were slain. Swords cut through flesh, and people slumped to the floor. The noble, pretty estate was soon bathed in blood, and the screams were gradually becoming less of a cacophony as more of them were killed. Douglas had an angry gleam in his eyes as he ran through the house with this woman in tow, kicking into walls, slashing haphazardly with his sword, trying to do as much damage as possible. He wanted this place to become a scar on the land so that anyone who saw it would understand that Highlanders were here, and they were not going to relent until their ambitions were fulfilled.

The girl whimpered and wept in his arms. She tried to pry her way out of his grip, but he was relentless. Then she managed to twist her mouth around and sink her teeth into his flesh. The pain was sharp and unexpected, and despite himself, he let her go. She fell to the floor with a crash and tried to crawl away, but Douglas reached down and grabbed her waist, pulling her back. He threw her onto a chair, where she landed with a thud. Her cheeks were rosy, and her hair was plastered all over her face.

“Stay there,” he ordered. “It’ll dae ye far better than trying tae run. There is no escape from us. I’m from Clan Wallace, and we’re here tae make sure that the English know we are gaeing tae fight for our land.” He pointed his sword at her as she trembled in fear.

At that point, another warrior, a man called Alec, came into the room. As soon as he saw the girl sitting on the chair and the disheveled state she was in, he rubbed his hands together with glee, and a lascivious look came upon his face.

“Oh Douglas, ye hae chosen well,” Alec said, his words dripping with desire. “I dare say I hae never seen such a pretty sight. I hae never haed love for the English, but then again, I’ve never seen an English lass like this before. A pretty English rose, aye, and one that’s ready for plucking.” He arched his eyebrows suggestively, and he was so lost in his desire that he might as well have been drooling. He stepped forward, and the girl cowered in fear. Panic was stricken all over her face. Before Alec could get any closer, Douglas grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“What are ye daeing?!” Alec exclaimed.

“She’s mine,” Douglas growled, baring his teeth. His nostrils flared, and Alec’s expression changed almost immediately. He backed away and nodded, holding out his palms to show that he wasn’t going to do anything drastic.

“Aye, Douglas, aye, I would nae dae anything tae gae against ye. I’m sure there are other lasses around,” Alec said sheepishly, and then left the room completely.

Douglas let hot anger rush around his body as he turned back to the girl.

“Please…please just let me go. I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t mean any harm. I don’t know what you want from us but take anything you want, just please, please don’t hurt anyone.”

Douglas stretched out his arms and shook away the pain that had come with her bite. He strode toward her menacingly, spreading his shoulders back, towering above her, maintaining the snarl he had worn when speaking with Alec.

“We’re here tae send a message. Ye English think ye can camp close tae our borders and plot tae take our land. Ye think ye can take what ye want? Well, ye cannae! We’re the ones who are gaeing tae take what we want. We’re the ones who are gaeing tae make ye scared. Ye English dinnae know what we’re capable of. Well, we’re gaeing tae show ye.” He grabbed her, lifting her into his arms again. She kicked out at first and then seemed to realize that there was no use trying to fight him.

He carried her through to another room where servants were being dragged away and slaughtered. For a moment, mercy flickered through Douglas’s mind, and he felt pity for them, but it only lasted a moment. He remembered how his parents had been killed by the English, and he held on to this tightly, allowing the anger to fester inside him before it threatened to explode. There was a cacophony of screams and whimpers as helpless people were pulled into the estate and slain as they begged for their lives.

Douglas watched over it all with an implacable gaze. If he was to be leader one day, then he was going to have to witness great acts of slaughter such as this, and he would have to harden his heart. The blood that was shed was worth it because they were only Englishmen. The message that would be sent was far more valuable than these lives, and he knew that his uncle would be pleased.

He hoped his parents would be too, for, with every stroke of his blade, he was avenging them and showing the world that the warriors in the Highlands were still strong.

Suddenly, quietness descended upon them. It was not quite silence, but it was far less noise than what had surrounded them. Many had died, and the day had extracted a heavy toll, but there was yet more to come as Fergus was set to return with the fleeing men and women. Perhaps a few of them would escape, but this suited Douglas and his uncle, for they would tell the tale of how Highland warriors had descended from them out of nowhere and left the estate bathed in blood. He could well imagine the fear and dread that would ripple through the hearts of all the English settlements near the Highlands, and in time, they would all fall to the might of the Wallace clan.