Branded by a Warrior

Scottish Highlands

November
1207

The lingering smell of b
lood an
d smoke was all she could smell. Sl
umped over
the warhorse’s
neck, she drif
ted in and out of consciousness
as the snow fell
heavi
ly around her
.
Shivering in the
darkness of
night, alone and
gravely
wounded, Elisabeth was the sole survivor of Clan Drummond.

Clinging to her
stallion
s
he ignored the bitter cold penetrating
her clothing.
There had been no time to dress
properly; she had been awoken by
the sound of her people being brutally murdered.
Dressed in a thin tunic and tartan, she rode hard through the wintery forest towards salvation.

Everyone was gone.
Her family, the younglings of the village, women and children, no one had been spared.
Closing her eyes
,
unable to ignore the
tears
that
st
ung her face
as she
thought about each and every one of them
.
Her heart mourned the lives lost tonight, c
linging to the
black
stallion as he thundered north, she wept for their souls.

At three and twenty she had escaped death several times
in her lifetime,
tonight would be one she would never forget. T
onight her
family had not been as
fortunate
. Her beloved
parents had been brutally
murdered;
her brother cut down on the battlefield
; her castle burned to the ground
as the Douglas warriors declared victory.
Clan Douglas had so easily penetrated her father’s walls tonight, the notorious clan had laid siege to her people with bloodthirsty vengeance.

Her people had been slaughtered like animals, there was nothing left of her beautiful home and people.
Women raped and murdered, children brutally
slaughtered
by the Douglas clan.
All were lost, except for her,
oh how
she wished she had died fighting beside her brother.

Alone and injured, Elisabeth gripped the
reins and saddle tighter as he jumped over a frozen river
in the
icy forest of the Scottish Highlands.
Wrapping her tartan tighter around her chest to stop the flow of blood
,
she covered herself the best she could and spurred her horse north.

Completely unprepared for an attack of this magnitude, her father’s warriors were caught sleeping this cold wint
ers eve. The watch had been assassinated
with long-range arrows,
preventing them from alerting
the castle
inhabitants
of the oncoming army. The Douglas Clan had
breached
their walls
with quiet precision
and lowered the drawbridge allowing the hundreds of Douglas warriors to storm the ca
stle.

It wasn’t until much later that the call to arms was heard, much too late.
By the time her father’s warriors were out of their beds, Douglas warriors were storming every inch of the castle and village.

Her father was Laird of Clan Drummond, murdered in his
sleep; his body had been drug through the castle out to the battlements as a trophy, as was his wife’s body.
Kincaid had come with vengeance
tonight; he had finally snapped. H
is black heart
showed no remorse as
he ordered hundreds of innocent
lives killed
at his feet
.
He had shown no mercy, no babe or animal had survived his attack. Every structure had been raised to the ground by fire.

Kincaid’s first wife had been as malevolent as he, dying in childbirth years ago; the countryside rejoiced to see the sadistic woman die.
At
thirty years old Kincaid had little time or care to mourn his wife.
Hours after his wife and child were
buried;
he turned his sights to finding a new wife.
His attention quickly turned to Elisabeth of Drummond,
The Warrior Queen of Scotland.
She had become his obsession.

Laird Kincaid was well known in the Highlands for being a vile bastard, he was greedy for land, power and riches. He cared for no one but himself and his possessions, the more he took, the more he wanted. Stories of his depravity swirled around the Highlands, nightmarish tales of his ruthless murders and debauchery.

To him and his men, nothing was
sacred;
they had torn through
villages and boroughs
ra
ping
women
and murdering
the men
before setting
villages
on fire afterward.
His hands were stained wi
th the blood of innocent men,
women
and children
long before becoming a laird. Kincaid
had
come
into power by killing the previous lair
d of Douglas, his older brother years ago.
The story was a chilling reminder of his wicked heart, he held nothing sacred, not even his own family.
Nothing stood in his way. He refused to accept Elisabeth’s denial time and time again.
Each time she refused him the more obsessed he became.

Laird
Kincaid
Douglas
was tall and
arrogant
;
he was a
bloodthirsty warrior who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted
. The redheaded laird was
the Highland’s
most
feared
, and
temperamental laird for good reason.
A large scar marred his face
from brow to chin; he had lost his eye during a failed kidnapping attempt. Elisabeth
slashed his evil face with her favorite dagge
r, taking his left eye with it.

After that attack, Kincaid retreated to his castle south
west of her family’s land. It was over a year before she heard from him again. It was clear his obsession with her had only grown with time; he still wanted her as his bride and refused to stop.
Very few stood in his way, those who did
,
were cut down with ease.
The crown turned a blind eye to the strife hap
pening in the distant Highlands, very few, even the King of England dared cross swords with Laird Douglas.
With the absence of anyone to stop him, Laird Kincaid ruled the south Highlands in his web of bloodstained villages.

Kincaid
saw
her as a challenge, a trophy to take
,
and break to his will. Elisabeth was well known for her stubbornness and beauty as well as her skills as a warrior
.
The entire Highlands had dubbed her their warrior q
ueen,
and he wanted her by his side, willing or not.
The more she resisted
, the more he pressed.

For years she had fended off
Kincaid’s threats and kidnapping
attempts, both her father and brother had delivered the news to Kincaid over the years. She had been more than vocal to Kincaid; her refusals were cold and short.
She
never imagined this would happen to her family and clan.
Duncan and her father had supported her refusals of Kincaid, they too hated the ma
n, they refused to sacrifice Elisabeth for peace with Kincaid.

Regardless how many times he was told no, Kincaid’s
attempts had grown
only grown
desperate and
elaborate;
she had never imagined he would massacre her family and clan over refusing his hand once again.

Kincaid had
come
with vengeance tonight, the
tall
laird and his warriors lay siege to her castle, murdering all in their path.
He came to teach her a lesson.
There was no doubt in her mind that tonight could be laid at her feet, her constant refusal of Kincaid and out smarting him at every turn had finally cost her. It had cost her more than she could live with.

Her loving parents
were murdered in their sleep, not even given a chance to
fight.
Their bodies were drug down to the
courtyard;
the castle was set on fire
immediately afterward as Kincaid danced around their corpses. He had covered his hands in her mother’s blood and smeared his face as he screamed for her.

H
er people
,
slaughtered like sheep
as they fled the burning castle, Kincaid wasn’t here to force her out of hiding, he was here to make her suffer and break.
He wanted to humiliate and devastate her, to tear apart her world and take away the only things that mattered to her. He wanted her to see the havoc and fear he created, he wanted her to feel responsible for the bodies that covered the bailey.

The tall laird had
taken
great
satisfaction
in watching people
suffer;
his perversion had led to the
suffering
of thousands of
people over the years.
Kincaid wanted her to witness the rape and murder, the torture and
ultimate demise of her family and clan.
He wanted her to crumble and surrender, he wanted her to beg, to plead with him. He ran through countless Drummond warriors attempting to catch her, lying
all low
who stood in his way. His eyes blazed red as he bellowed in victory as he slowly gained on her.

Tonight
Elisabeth had ripped from her slumber this winter’s even to the sounds of screams and the delayed
call to arms
. Quickly shoving the leather away from her tower window, she saw the courtyard and bailey below on fire, people running from armed Douglas warriors
as they were cut down
. Slipping a dress on
,
she
heard the commotion in the hall outside her room; quickly she escaped
out of her room through a hidden tunnel that adjoined to
her brother’s
room, meeting in the hidden stairway
. Duncan and Elisabeth armed themselves with the hidden selection of weapons that lined the secret
passageway
and snuck out into the bailey to defend their castle.

The
siblings
arrived in the courtyard to see the battle raging between the clans,
their warriors were storming out the castle, now armed. T
heir
beloved
parents dead,
lying
in fresh snow, their blood covering the ground
around
them.

In the smoke covered battlefield she could hear
Kincaid
calling for her, his chilling voice made her want to vomit as she fought beside her beloved brother.
Unable to focus on her parent’s deaths, she and Duncan fought for their lives as warrior upon warrior came after them.
Their people were far outnumbered; the screams of the dying rang through the night as people tried fleeing into the woods only to be cut down.

Taunting her, Kincaid called as he slashed through men to get to her, “Elisabeth, my love! See
the fires you light within me? Your
parents
died because
of you Elisabeth, remember that oh warrior queen!”

The bailey was thick
with battling
men;
his
path to her was too obs
tructed, the smoke prevented Kincaid
from finding her.
His words stuck her deep, looking over at her older brother she began to lower her weapon.

Duncan locked eyes with her and shook her
, “Don’t you
dare
believe him Elisabeth, focus on the battle Sister!”

Nodding to her brother, she shook her head and
swiftly
refocused on the war raging around them.
Fighting side by side, she and Duncan carved
through Douglas
warriors as the merciless slaughter ensued around them.
Smoke and fire enveloped the keep and bailey as
she and her brother
stood their ground and f
ought off attack after attack.