Valknut

CHAPTER|7 The Grand Escape

As the sun set further into the horizon, the MacShanes readied themselves for the long journey that lay before them. 

Lady MacShane rode in front with Sir Connor discussing matters pertinent to their escape to the Orkney Islands. Kieran and Catriona were riding behind them. The women walked in the center surrounded on all sides by the warriors. 

At Sir Connor’s orders, they had drawn their weapons, and placed their shields around their necks. While the shields protected the warrior’s backs from wandering arrows that might sneak out from amongst the trees, Sir Connor hoped to deter robbers with their alertness and readiness to fight. 

After what seemed like several hours of walking, the group reached the outskirts of a tiny fishing village. Sir Connor sent a scout ahead to seek out an Inn that would house them for the night.

It was a deplorable little place. Windows were just holes in the walls. The door itself was nothing more than old driftwood hammered together. What would have once, been a strong stone facade, was now nothing more than crumbling plaster, painted a dull white. The floors inside, were unpolished and dirty. Rats had gnawed holes where they saw fit. The whole Inn smelt damp and moldy. Once everyone was settled and the horses handed to the stable boys, Sir Connor walked Lady MacShane to her chambers. 

Kieran and Catriona followed quietly. Before parting, Connor assured Lady MacShane that he would rise early in the morn and secure their travel further north. 

Just before dawn, Connor headed to the shore in search of fishermen willing to rent their vessel for a day, perhaps more. A merchant vessel that was heading toward the Orkney Islands later in the day caught his attention. 

Speaking quickly with the owner, he completed the negotiations. Satisfied with the payment terms, Sir Connor strode towards the Inn. The vessel was to leave in two hours’ time and it would take that long to wake everyone, feed the bairns, stock up for the journey, and clear the payments due to the Inn-master and the stable master. 

A scout hurriedly made his way towards Sir Connor, a look of concern clear even in the wee morning mist. He dismounted before the stallion halted, ran up to Sir Connor and informed him of the approaching McDermott soldiers. 

So they had been spotted making their way to the North, Sir Connor thought. Why had they waited so long to make their presence known? he wondered. 

Perhaps the McDermott soldiers wanted to corner them. With the soldiers blocking their only way out of the fishing village and the sea waiting at the other end, it certainly looked like a well-conceived plan. The soldiers couldn’t have known of Sir Connor’s waiting vessel just yet. That would be his little surprise in this ambush. 

Time for a hasty retreat, the feeding and stocking up can wait till they were well on their way to Orkney, he thought. He sent the scout to gather the warriors and the women, while he hastened towards Lady MacShane's chambers. Quickly the group collected what little supplies they came with and began their descent to the shore. 

Halfway to the vessel, an arrow buzzed past Sir Connor. “Halt!” he heard. 

Instructing Lady MacShane and the other women and children to continue towards the waiting vessel, Sir Connor gathered his men and formed a barrier. Their dozen poorly armed men seemed an unfair match to the well-rested and well-armed McDermott men that now outnumbered them three to one. 

Nevertheless they stood their ground. Fight they would. Till the end. 

To the boy and his mother they owed their loyalty. 

Readying himself for the oncoming onslaught, Sir Connor was startled by the gentle tugging at his boot. He looked down to see Catriona beckon to him. “Ye” he hissed at her. “Nae, follow th’ women quickly.” With that said, his gaze returned to the McDermott men.

Another gentle tugging. 

“Come wit me” she said softly to Sir Connor and then took off for the Inn. Growling, he dismounted and followed Catriona. 

“Ye better nae be wastin me time” he hissed. Once at the Inn, she pointed to several barrels and the torches still burning from the night before. A slow smile swept across Sir Connors face. He ruffled her hair and sent her to grab the torch. Quickly he seized a barrel and made his way back to his horse. He muttered to the closest warriors to get more. 

With the McDermott men now charging towards them, Connor had little time to spare. He instructed his men to fall behind their archers however few they may be. He cracked open the barrel and waited as the archers dipped their arrow tips hastily covered in rags into the lard.

Watching the McDermott descent quietly, he raised his hand in the air readying his men. They pulled back their strings, tightening their bows. “Fire” he ordered. A warrior walked past the archer’s quickly setting waiting arrow heads on fire. 

“Hold” 

“Hold” 

“Release” he growled as his arm came down. 

Lit arrows rose high in the sky, illuminating the mist, before raining down on and around the McDermott soldiers. Few raised their shields, others ducked. Horses neighed and stamped the ground while men cursed as the fire caught on wooden shields and flesh - horse and human alike. 

While some fell off their horses, hoping to roll in the mud to douse the flames, others attempted to frantically remove burning shields from their arms. The overwhelming smell of burning cloth and flesh gave Sir Connor and his men some hope. Slowly but surely, old tree stumps, hay bales, carts and whatever else lined the street caught fire as well. With walls of flame surrounding them, horses panicked and began bucking.

Residents poured out of their houses and from inside the Inn. Chaos surrounded the warriors on both sides as the battle continued. 

Behind the archers, warriors quickly spread the lard cutting across the street. Hay, wood and whatever else they could find was thrown in with the lot. 

With the second line of McDermott soldiers quickly taking the place of their fallen comrades, Sir Connor raised his arm again. 

“Draw” 

“Fire” 

“Release” he growled. 

Not waiting to see what the arrows hit, Connor ordered his men behind the lard line. Hopping on his horse and grabbing Catriona, he joined his men. As the McDermott soldiers drew closer, he ordered the line to be lit. Another shower of lit arrows were sent before they turned and began their gallop towards the waiting vessel.