rags.”
“Nay, I’ll no be buying a ladies’ cloak unless ye are going to be wearing it.”
Argus ignored the glimmering smirk Zarik shot at him. “I’ll no be wearing a woman’s garment. Of that ye can be certain. Mayhap ye’ll want to purchase several extra blankets, put in an order for several more plaids. Perhaps a good number of yards of silk and velvet for dresses. She’ll need them as her dress won’t be like ours and I ken ye'd not see her talked about by other clan women. As the lad destined to be Laird, I'd think ye'd wish to have yer woman in the best. And ye ken how the women gossip.”
“For the last time, I’ll no be making purchases for a woman that doesnae exist.”
Argus shook his head and the two spent most of the rest of the day and trip back to the keep in silence. One day, before it was too late, Argus truly hoped that Zarik would learn to believe. It would be essential in leading clan MacKinnon once Niall was no longer Laird. Perhaps he should send someone from the keep to do some of the shopping Zarik was refusing to do. After all, they couldnae have naught there for the lass when she arrived.
****
The battle started right before Samhain. What should have been a quick battle turned into more difficulty. Zarik cursed himself for allowing his mind to be distracted by the rants of two old men, his father and Argus, about a woman of the future. He had turned to training and perhaps had exhausted himself by over-training after several clan members came back with bundles of items saying Niall and Argus had ordered them on behalf of Zarik for the woman that was to join him soon.
If only his father had allowed him to attack the MacLean's as he had wanted. This battle may never have happened. And they very well may have control over the entire MacLean holding by now, thus increasing their own land almost double.
It covered a large area and, determined to completely wipe out their enemy; ignoring his father's rule of battle, they went in chase all the way to the Standing Stones. Cowards be damned. He'd turn them 'round himself if need be to keep from running them through from behind.
People were cut down right and left from the start of the battle through the entire area. Blood was on the ground around the stones. Splattered onto the stones. How long had it been since blood had been shed here? Wasn’t it bad? Hell if Zarik could remember. Even if it were, it was likely some silly tale of magic. A tale meant to evoke fear and keep others from meddling in places the Druids thought were theirs.
He shook his head thinking he’d listened too much to the banter between his father and Argus. There was no magic. There were no bad omens or bad luck. Things simply happened. “Let’s tend to the wounded, rest some and eat before we head back to the keep.” He spoke as he dropped to the ground from Rage's back, thankful for the baskets of food brought by men that could no longer battle. “Ye were a good man again today, Rage. Ye ken these battles are made just for us. Ye had yer share of blood this day?” Rage, as though knowing his owner's mind, gave a loud neigh and stomped around slightly. “Aye, a good battle 'twas.”
Zarik sat on the ground against one of the stones speaking about the battle they’d just won with Drostan and Torradan. This battle was the bloodiest they’d seen in a while. He was thankful he’d forced Odhran to stay home.
Odhran had done everything short of stamping his feet and crying in order to convince Zarik to let him go. Finally, it was the Druid that had stepped in, convincing Niall that Zarik was correct in having Odhran stay home.
There would, no doubt, be hell to pay
“Nay, I’ll no be buying a ladies’ cloak unless ye are going to be wearing it.”
Argus ignored the glimmering smirk Zarik shot at him. “I’ll no be wearing a woman’s garment. Of that ye can be certain. Mayhap ye’ll want to purchase several extra blankets, put in an order for several more plaids. Perhaps a good number of yards of silk and velvet for dresses. She’ll need them as her dress won’t be like ours and I ken ye'd not see her talked about by other clan women. As the lad destined to be Laird, I'd think ye'd wish to have yer woman in the best. And ye ken how the women gossip.”
“For the last time, I’ll no be making purchases for a woman that doesnae exist.”
Argus shook his head and the two spent most of the rest of the day and trip back to the keep in silence. One day, before it was too late, Argus truly hoped that Zarik would learn to believe. It would be essential in leading clan MacKinnon once Niall was no longer Laird. Perhaps he should send someone from the keep to do some of the shopping Zarik was refusing to do. After all, they couldnae have naught there for the lass when she arrived.
****
The battle started right before Samhain. What should have been a quick battle turned into more difficulty. Zarik cursed himself for allowing his mind to be distracted by the rants of two old men, his father and Argus, about a woman of the future. He had turned to training and perhaps had exhausted himself by over-training after several clan members came back with bundles of items saying Niall and Argus had ordered them on behalf of Zarik for the woman that was to join him soon.
If only his father had allowed him to attack the MacLean's as he had wanted. This battle may never have happened. And they very well may have control over the entire MacLean holding by now, thus increasing their own land almost double.
It covered a large area and, determined to completely wipe out their enemy; ignoring his father's rule of battle, they went in chase all the way to the Standing Stones. Cowards be damned. He'd turn them 'round himself if need be to keep from running them through from behind.
People were cut down right and left from the start of the battle through the entire area. Blood was on the ground around the stones. Splattered onto the stones. How long had it been since blood had been shed here? Wasn’t it bad? Hell if Zarik could remember. Even if it were, it was likely some silly tale of magic. A tale meant to evoke fear and keep others from meddling in places the Druids thought were theirs.
He shook his head thinking he’d listened too much to the banter between his father and Argus. There was no magic. There were no bad omens or bad luck. Things simply happened. “Let’s tend to the wounded, rest some and eat before we head back to the keep.” He spoke as he dropped to the ground from Rage's back, thankful for the baskets of food brought by men that could no longer battle. “Ye were a good man again today, Rage. Ye ken these battles are made just for us. Ye had yer share of blood this day?” Rage, as though knowing his owner's mind, gave a loud neigh and stomped around slightly. “Aye, a good battle 'twas.”
Zarik sat on the ground against one of the stones speaking about the battle they’d just won with Drostan and Torradan. This battle was the bloodiest they’d seen in a while. He was thankful he’d forced Odhran to stay home.
Odhran had done everything short of stamping his feet and crying in order to convince Zarik to let him go. Finally, it was the Druid that had stepped in, convincing Niall that Zarik was correct in having Odhran stay home.
There would, no doubt, be hell to pay
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