The Highlander

Chapter Two

Finlay

The fire burned high, and smoke bellowed into the air turning the blue night sky black. The fire roared so loud it almost hurt my ears. The smoke was thick and heavy and even watching from a hill across a large field I could still feel the harsh scratch of the smoke in my throat. However the smell was the worst. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose, almost causing me to vomit.

My fellow warriors all stood or sat on horses, silent, faces masks of sorrow and anger. We didn't once go to help the villagers or try to put out the fire in hopes of survivors. We didn't need to; we knew where every single villager was. Tied to stakes to keep them stood up, the villagers were burning bones now, on the edge of the village where the flamed licked them, giving them a slow horrible death. None screamed as all where dead.

The way they were murdered followed the pattern of one clan. The McKenzie clan. The McKenzie clan had always been our enemy for as long as I could remember, and my father and his father before that up until the start of our clan, the McCall's. Our hatred for each other had started so long ago that time had forgotten why the two clans hated each other. We had always been on the brink of war, but when the McKenzie's started burning villages from our clan and our allies and raping women and murdering children, the McCall's declared war.

A few weeks into the battle, the warriors of the clan McCall and I, their lain, rode hard for a small village of the clan McDougall after we caught wind the McCall were to attack their next. However we got here to late. Now the McDougall village was burning in front of us.

I heard a horse charging behind us. I whipped my head around to see a figure on a dark horse charge toward me. No weapon in his hand I declared him not a threat and I turned the horse I was sat on towards him.

The figure stopped beside me and I looked over. A young boy, no older than the castaway from my village, who had hidden in a cart to join the fighting, looked around ten and four years.

"Laird McCall, I am a messenger from a McDougall village a few days ride from here. The McKenzie's had captured and killed everyone, but sent me to deliver a message to ye about a final battle in the Field of the Damned on McKenzie land." The messenger spoke with confidence yet I could see cracks in his façade. His eyes were darting around, looking nervously at the warriors around him and his hands were shaking slightly as he held tightly, onto the reins of his horse.

"Thank ye for the message lad. I warn ye not to return to ye village for I fear the McKenzie's wont be grateful for ye help sending a message and will only kill ye." I replied. The messenger nodded once before turning and riding off into the darkness. The sound of hooves retreating became quieter and quieter.

"We move on men. To the Field of the Damned!" I shouted this to my warriors, a small band of a hundred or so, we may have been a wee group of warriors but we were strong, hard working and dangerous. They were some of the best swordsman in Scotland.

Just when I was about to ride forward and lead the men on a long journey to our final battle a loud, ear piercing scream.

My head, and the other warriors, snapped towards the burning village from where the scream emitted. Someone was alive. One hundred soldiers stood and sat still, silent, listening to the scream die down and watch a small figure run in panic in the centre of the village.

A horse broke out in gallop to my right, Blair; the young stowaway broke out of the group and rode fast down the hill and across the field towards the burning houses. A few men followed, I did not know if it was to stop Blair or help the screaming person. Never the less I followed suit.

My horse ran hard after a handful of my warriors and the boy. My horse soon caught up with the warriors but Blair was already jumping over the fire and through the stakes of burning bodies.