of the women were now wailing like
lost souls.
The sergeant’s intentions were becoming clear.
Two of his men trotted over to the thatched roof of the prison. Moments later a
wisp of smoke rose into the air. The women erupted into hysteria. Some of them
breasted the hedge of bayonets, trying to force the blades to one side. Flames
licked the bundles of yellow-grey straw, like a dog tentatively tasting a
strange flavour. The sergeant stood twenty yards away, hands on his hips, like
an evil deity, feeding on the horrors he’d sown.
“It’s him!” Colin hissed through gritted teeth.
“That’s the one we saw!”
There was no mistaking that maniacal glow of
pleasure. Here was the monster they’d watch rape that beautiful wraith in the
mist. Alistair could hear Colin’s breathing grow more and more shallow. Neither
of them could endure much more of this nightmare.
A thick cloud of smoke billowed into the air as
the flames began to overcome the dampness of the thatch. Alistair could hear a
babble of voices coming from inside the cottage. The hands of the three youths
stretched through the narrow windows. In their panic no longer young men, but
terrified children.
Colin tore his haversack from his back and began
to scrabble through its contents.
“What are you doing?”
“I can take no more of this!” the younger man
cried. He located the box of shells and loaded the empty chamber of his rifle.
The remainder of the shells were stuffed into his pocket.
Alistair grabbed hold of his arm. “Colin, none
of this is real! You can’t interfere; you don’t know what you’ll bring down
upon us….”
A wild screech of excitement rang out as a dark-haired
figure broke through the redcoat line. The brothers had a fleeting glimpse of
bare feet and shapely legs beneath a red tartan shawl. The woman ran to the
cottage, where she levered her body against the water barrel. Within seconds the
barrel had been pushed over, the water draining away. Immediately the men
poured out of the cottage, retching and coughing, black smoke belching out
behind them.
Two of the soldiers ran over to round up the
escapees. En route they were ambushed by the woman. She launched herself onto
the back of one of the redcoats, clawing like a wildcat. The other soldier
jabbed at her with his bayonet, nearly skewering his friend as he tried to
rescue him.
The sergeant pried the wildcat off the soldier
and carried her, spitting and snarling, away from the burning cottage… What
would otherwise have been elegant arms and legs swung this way and that, trying
to inflict damage on her assailant…
The sudden recognition brought Colin to a halt.
His resolution vanished. At the cottage the soldiers were dragging two of the
youths back towards the smoke-filled doorway. Already flames licked around the
top of the door. Two children, aged about seven, ran off squealing in terror.
They came to a halt beside the sergeant. Frozen in shock, they stood hand in
hand as they watched him force his victim to the ground and unbuckle his
trousers.
There was a deafening explosion to Colin’s
right. He turned to find Alistair at his side, smoke drifting from the barrel
of his rifle. Colin almost wept with relief. Now, these nightmare images would
surely return to hell where they belonged.
To his horror the images turned to face the
brothers. Instantly the clansfolk were forgotten. The two soldiers at the
cottage fired at the intruders. The shots were wildly off target; the lead
balls whizzing over their heads. Alistair reloaded his rifle, responding to a
threat that was at last tangible. He would try to make sense of it later. He
saw the girl kick at the sergeant’s groin as he desperately buttoned his
trousers, and watched him hobble painfully back to his men.
The old men and the women, meanwhile, had seized
the children and fled into the mist.
During this momentary lapse the remainder of the
soldiers fired a ragged volley in their direction. Alistair felt a thump
lost souls.
The sergeant’s intentions were becoming clear.
Two of his men trotted over to the thatched roof of the prison. Moments later a
wisp of smoke rose into the air. The women erupted into hysteria. Some of them
breasted the hedge of bayonets, trying to force the blades to one side. Flames
licked the bundles of yellow-grey straw, like a dog tentatively tasting a
strange flavour. The sergeant stood twenty yards away, hands on his hips, like
an evil deity, feeding on the horrors he’d sown.
“It’s him!” Colin hissed through gritted teeth.
“That’s the one we saw!”
There was no mistaking that maniacal glow of
pleasure. Here was the monster they’d watch rape that beautiful wraith in the
mist. Alistair could hear Colin’s breathing grow more and more shallow. Neither
of them could endure much more of this nightmare.
A thick cloud of smoke billowed into the air as
the flames began to overcome the dampness of the thatch. Alistair could hear a
babble of voices coming from inside the cottage. The hands of the three youths
stretched through the narrow windows. In their panic no longer young men, but
terrified children.
Colin tore his haversack from his back and began
to scrabble through its contents.
“What are you doing?”
“I can take no more of this!” the younger man
cried. He located the box of shells and loaded the empty chamber of his rifle.
The remainder of the shells were stuffed into his pocket.
Alistair grabbed hold of his arm. “Colin, none
of this is real! You can’t interfere; you don’t know what you’ll bring down
upon us….”
A wild screech of excitement rang out as a dark-haired
figure broke through the redcoat line. The brothers had a fleeting glimpse of
bare feet and shapely legs beneath a red tartan shawl. The woman ran to the
cottage, where she levered her body against the water barrel. Within seconds the
barrel had been pushed over, the water draining away. Immediately the men
poured out of the cottage, retching and coughing, black smoke belching out
behind them.
Two of the soldiers ran over to round up the
escapees. En route they were ambushed by the woman. She launched herself onto
the back of one of the redcoats, clawing like a wildcat. The other soldier
jabbed at her with his bayonet, nearly skewering his friend as he tried to
rescue him.
The sergeant pried the wildcat off the soldier
and carried her, spitting and snarling, away from the burning cottage… What
would otherwise have been elegant arms and legs swung this way and that, trying
to inflict damage on her assailant…
The sudden recognition brought Colin to a halt.
His resolution vanished. At the cottage the soldiers were dragging two of the
youths back towards the smoke-filled doorway. Already flames licked around the
top of the door. Two children, aged about seven, ran off squealing in terror.
They came to a halt beside the sergeant. Frozen in shock, they stood hand in
hand as they watched him force his victim to the ground and unbuckle his
trousers.
There was a deafening explosion to Colin’s
right. He turned to find Alistair at his side, smoke drifting from the barrel
of his rifle. Colin almost wept with relief. Now, these nightmare images would
surely return to hell where they belonged.
To his horror the images turned to face the
brothers. Instantly the clansfolk were forgotten. The two soldiers at the
cottage fired at the intruders. The shots were wildly off target; the lead
balls whizzing over their heads. Alistair reloaded his rifle, responding to a
threat that was at last tangible. He would try to make sense of it later. He
saw the girl kick at the sergeant’s groin as he desperately buttoned his
trousers, and watched him hobble painfully back to his men.
The old men and the women, meanwhile, had seized
the children and fled into the mist.
During this momentary lapse the remainder of the
soldiers fired a ragged volley in their direction. Alistair felt a thump
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