The Highlander

Chapter Thirty Five

Rosaline

Sitting on a horse with Graham was not as near as much fun as sitting on Ares with Finn. For one, I sat in front of Finn, resting my back on him and could relax as we journeyed for miles and miles but with Graham he forced me to sit behind him, for protection, he said. And then there was the smell. I didn't know if it was Graham or horse. Or maybe it was both.

As I watched Finn enter the ring of dark warriors a knot of fear and worry formed deep in my gut which only tightened at the sight of the army on the other side of the gate.

My fists clenched the back of Grahams stained shirt as I forced myself to stay in place as I watched the large intimidating gates close behind Finlay, entrapping him. I felt the same feeling I felt every time Finn was thrust into a dangerous situation. I felt scared, worried, trapped in a cage of insanity wondering if this would be the last time I saw him. Every second I wondered if it would be the last time I saw him. Finn belonged to a dangerous world. One were violence was a common occurrence every day.

"What now?" I asked Graham.

"Now we wait." He said, with a soft sigh.

We waited two hours in the cold. I had long abandoned Graham's horse and sought refuge in a tavern a long side many of the warriors much to Graham's disapproval.

The tavern itself, the name of which was in Gaelic so I was unable to read it, was much smaller on the inside compared to the large look of the outside. I pinned this down to the many large, round bodies occupying every bench and corner, making the room grown smaller and smaller with each new arrival.

Large benches and tables occupied the centre with large wooden tankards spilling over with beer soaking the tabletops. Deep tummy-rumbling laughter rose from the corner of the room as old friends seemed to me sharing old stories while from one table a fight had broken out between two men. Silver coins were sent flying across the room, large men diving over one another to pick up what fallen coins they could, even more fights breaking out amongst the scavengers.

All action stopped as we entered the tavern.

The brawl commenced, the laughter ceased, even the beer halted swishing.

I suddenly missed Graham's protective stance, wishing he was stood in front of me now, my protector and bodyguard.

The highlanders in front of me dragged themselves from the floor, standing tall and emitting an aura of intimidation which rolled off them in tsunami waves. I was starting to think that all Scottish highlanders were over six foot as I seemed to be constantly surrounded by the tallest men in Scotland. There was a mattering of gingers and blonde throughout the room with a handful of brunette scattered amongst them. All brandished some sort of weapon at their side whether it be a sword, dagger or axe, they all glinted in the shattered sunlight hinting at how recently they'd been sharpened.

Another sign that the men of the McCain clan were preparing for war.

"Blair, my boy?" one of the older, rougher men stepped forwards with a leather patch veering his left eye and a sharp sword strapped to his right hip.

Blair stepped out from behind me and the sibling instinct to catch his arm and prevent him from leaving sparked inside of me. These strange foreign men were still a danger to us till Finlay returned from conversing with the Laird McCain.

But I held my palms flat against my thighs as Blair glided past me and into the welcoming embrace of the older man. The stranger thumped Blair's back with is meaty paw, nearly sending Blair flying forwards as they both chucked deeply as they conversed rough Gaelic which I interpreted as a welcoming. Though I wasn't certain as the man around me, out of respect I assumed, spoke English to me. Gaelic was as foreign to me as Chinese or Spanish.