Highlander's Kiss

Chapter 8: Barron

Barron stood up and watched over the Laird. He had spent his entire life watching over him, like a second father. It pained him to see the Laird in such agony, but there wasn't much he could do in that damp and dark place. He turned and approached the others to talk in hushed tones.

"Patrik, come here," Barron said. He brought his finger to his lips and gestured to Gavin.

"What is it?"

"We need to find a way out of here. We canae do anything in this state, but if we could get out, maybe we could find out if they have Elyn at least. I donae know if Gavin has the strength to fight his way out of here if he thinks she's dead... or worse. We'll have to carry him."

Patrik nodded solemnly and glanced at Gavin. "What's the plan?"

Barron stroked his beard and thought hard for a moment. "A distraction. Didnae Gavin tell us about how Elyn got him out of here? I think I have an idea."

***

Barron waited for the right moment. He had been keeping track of the time by carving dashes into the wall with a loose rock, and what passed as their food was set to arrive any moment. He laid on the floor and pointed to Patrik to begin.

"Help! Someone help!" Patrik shouted as loudly as he could. He only paused to look at Gavin, who hadn't budged an inch despite the noise. "He's dying! If ye donae help him, it'll be on yer heads!"

Footsteps pounded outside in the hallway and the door was quickly unlocked and shoved open. Two guards stepped into the dungeon and stared into the cell, where Patrik was feverishly squeezing the bars. He pointed at Barron with dire urgency. "He's sick or something! Ye gotta help him!"

The guards chuckled and shook their heads. "Who cares about him? If we let him die it'll be one less mouth to feed. The King only cares about the Laird."

Patrik fumed. "If ye donae help him I'm sure the Laird will make himself as uncooperative as possible. I reckon that trouble will travel back to the guards who caused it."

The guards looked at each other and one of them sighed heavily. He slipped the key out of his pocket and waited. "Stand back, all of ye."

Patrik took a step back, and the guard opened the cell door. He quickly stepped inside and knelt down next to Barron, who opened his eyes and brought his hands up around the guard's head before he could react. He quickly head-locked the guard, his body crumpling to the floor. Before the second guard could step in, Patrik jumped on his back and knocked him off balance, making them both tumble against the wall with a loud clang. Barron climbed to his feet and rushed forward, taking the loose rock he had been using for time-keeping, and cracked it against the guard's head.

Barron looked up at Patrik. "Come on!" He snatched up the guard's sword. "These things are tiny, how do they expect to hurt anyone?"

At the back of the cell, Barron shook Fingal and Duncan awake. "Come on ye layabouts, we hafta move!"

They scrambled to their feet, nearly stumbling over each other in their stupor. They clung to their cloaks in confused shock, before gaining a sense of what was going on. Duncan donned his cloak and wiped the drool shining on his cheek.

Barron turned and grabbed Gavin by his shoulder. "Gavin, wake up."

Gavin mumbled in his agony-stricken sleep and tried to push Barron away. "Leave me, I'm better off dead here."

"Nonsense, we donae even know if Elyn is alive or not. Ye said it yerself, ye can feel her, canae ye?" Barron stood, bristling with energy. His ears were tuned to the sound of anyone approaching. So far, no one had heard their attack. "We hafta go."