The wind whipped through his hair as branches lashed at his back. Sailing through air was not one of Sverting’s favorite things to do. One minute he was running through the forest, the next something hard connected with his chest and Sverting found himself flying. Landing belly up on the forest ground was equally painful. His breath had been knocked from his lungs and Sverting lay staring at the canopy of trees for the briefest moment before concerned eyes loomed into his vision. 

A hand reached out and Sverting wrapped his fingers around the massive forearm. He was yanked to his feet. Once he steadied himself, he turned in the direction he was running towards. His nostrils flared as anger coursed through him and he looked at the dark shadows with narrowed eyes. 

A man stepped out from behind a tree. Sverting seized up his enemy. Over six feet tall, well-muscled, and dressed in light armor. He couldn’t see the man’s features but he saw the moonlight glint off the heavy two-edged sword he carried in his right hand. Sverting rubbed the bruise forming on his chest and took a step forward. He could feel a massive ache clawing around inside his head, a minor outcome of the rather unexpected introduction his head had with the forest floor. The prospect of a good fight however, allowed a menacing grin to dance on his lips. A light rustle halted his progress. Within seconds at least fifteen or so similarly dressed men stepped out from the shadows behind the tall man, swords and shields ready for battle. 

Another sound drew Sverting’s attention. His ears prickled and he registered the soft pull of bowstrings as arrows were nocked. He managed to utter the words Tak' shelter (take shelter) as he dove behind a thick tree trunk.   

As sharp metal-tipped arrows whizzed past him, softly thudding against the damp forest floor, Sverting searched the darkness for his own men. Some had followed suit, finding a tree to hide behind. Others had knelt, raising their shields above their heads for protection. A few too slow to react, found themselves cursing as they yanked arrows from their bodies. Those with fatal wounds lay on the forest floor, whispering their last prayers, hoping they had died valiantly enough to be accepted into Valhalla. More arrows sailed through the air. 

A roar drew Sverting’s attention in the direction of their assailants. The tall man that led this tiny army was running straight for him, his men following close behind. For a split second, Sverting raised his eyes to the tree tops. He wondered how many more arrows were trained at his men, waiting for them to step out from their shelter only to be sent to their graves. And that’s when he saw them. 

Several men climbed down from their leafy camouflage and discarded their bows, quickly replacing them with swords and shields. Suddenly this tiny army was no longer tiny. 

With a roar of his own, Sverting stepped out from behind the tree trunk and braced himself for the oncoming barrage of men. 

*********************************** 

Klaufi and old man Craig were rushed into the farmer’s hut. A few men stood guarding the shabby abode from further attacks. The remaining turned in the direction the seax’s had originated from. Two shadows were seen disappearing between the huts. Quickly they took off behind the men, not wanting to lose sight of the attackers. 

The guards not only had a head start, but they knew the land better than Klaufi’s men. As they neared the center of the village, they split up. One headed South-East while the other headed North-West. Klaufi’s men followed suit, their eyes desperately clinging to the running forms and their feet frantically trying to close the growing distance. A quiet discomfort surged through them as they weaved between huts and raced over fields. They had to catch the two guards. Under no circumstances could they allow either or both to reach the lookout towers. They had no idea how many guards were at the towers and couldn’t guarantee winning that fight with their meager numbers. Reinforcements now, would ruin their plans and put all others in danger! The element of surprise was of absolute importance. They had come this far undetected and now, they must ensure that the situation stayed that way. 

***********************************

Kieran’s eyes bulged with horror as the old woman recounted the punishments meted out to Lady MacShane and Sir Connor. She told him of Catriona’s fate, but knew not if his childhood friend had lived or died. Tears flowed freely and his heart shattered into a million pieces over and over again as he imagined their last moments.  

Guilt and shame gushed through Kieran. His mother had begged him to stay. Why hadn’t he listened to her? Catriona had wanted to sail with them. Would she have returned to Orkney, safe albeit shaken, like him if he had allowed her to? He had survived a war, a treacherous journey across the seas and faced uncertainty in new lands. Although he had lost his father, the wisest man he had ever known, Sir Connor’s wisdom and knowledge had earned him the respect of all that knew him. Despite everything Kieran had learned and all the training he had undergone, nothing could have prepared him for how wrong this simple scouting mission had turned out to be. And it was all his fault. All these needless deaths. 

His false confidence had led him to make a rash decision that had cost him the lives of so many he loved. Or had it simply been fate? Perhaps the anger of the Gods he had replaced? His sorrow and acute sense of loss drove him to believe it was the former. He needed something tangible to blame. And he blamed himself. Despair engulfed him, and Kieran belittled himself for giving in to the revenge that had simmered inside him all these years. It had blinded him and now look where it brought him! 

Feeling like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, Kieran bid the old woman farewell and exited the hut. He needed to find the others and he needed to help Olaf lead them into battle. He was torn. A part of him sought more revenge – for his home, his people, the crimes committed against his loved ones. Nothing would please him more than to feel his battle axe end the miserable existence of the Dark Knight. And yet there was a small part of him that dreaded what he would find when he did reclaim his castle. 

His time at McDermott’s, however brief, had shown him that the Dark Knight enjoyed piking his victims. Kieran shuddered at the thought of seeing his beloved mother and revered Sir Connor like that. He closed his eyes and took a few quick deep breaths. However hard he tried to not walk down that road, behind closed lids all he could do was picture them. Their necks severed from their bodies, caked old blood lining the pikes, their lifeless eyes frozen in terror and mouths agape in muted screams for mercy. 

For a moment, Kieran wished that he had died back in Pictland. That he had never lived to see the day he would be piecing his family’s dead and rotting bodies back together. Oh how he cursed himself and the fates for letting him live to see this day! All these years, he had carried guilt over his father’s death. How could he expect to move forward knowing his actions had caused yet more harm to those he loved? His mother. Sir Connor. Catriona. His heart broke all over again. Catriona who had escaped that awful nunnery to find a better life for herself had now been caught in this senseless family feud. And for no fault of her own. 

A small part of him clung to the old woman’s words. Catrionawas the strongest person he had ever known and he so desperately wanted to believe that if anyone could survive a terribly twisted fate, it would be his childhood friend. Kieran found himself mumbling a silent prayer to whoever or whatever was listening. Please let her live. 

A sense of urgency gripped Kieran. If she were alive, he had to get to her and quick! Who knows how long she would continue to endure the tortures meted out by the Dark Knight. He had to save her! He had to redeem himself and he would start with Catriona. His people. His islands.   

***********************************************