Chapter 7.2
“That Ian would gladly welcome the Alasdair Clan to his home, provided his home remained at peace.”
Perhaps cryptic to an outsider but it was very clear to Roy that this meant the MacDonald clan would not tolerate anything that might destabilize the tenuous peace between the Beinn and the other Kaldone. It was also a direct invitation to the home of Ian MacDonald, which he was in no state to deny.
There was an extra horse outside for Roy who mounted slowly with help from Angus. He thought it was two nights since he was shot but he wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, the slightest movement felt like someone was tearing his chest apart. They rode slowly for several sands, twice the time it would have taken normally, until they reached the home of Ian MacDonald.
Dismounting with help from Angus, Roy walked of his own accord through the doors of the great hall, Angus leading at a gentle pace. They passed through the great hall to a side chamber with a heavy oak table and eight chairs. Two of those chairs were already occupied.
Roy nodded to Massoud and then extended his forearm to Ian in the customary greeting of the Beinn.
“I don’t know what you plot, Alasdair, but it must stop.”
“I plot nothing except perhaps how to steal a few Caora,” grinned Roy.
None of the three men smiled, Angus now seated as well. Ian spoke again, “I know Gealach met with you both and I know most of the clans would follow him if he called them.”
Roy stood silently for a moment, quite sure that Massoud had betrayed him. This did not truly surprise him as he was a rogue among men and he expected this from most, he was most surprised that he had clearly misjudged the Asherah.
“You have nothing to say, Roy? What if I were to tell you that your companion here killed your darling Elspeth?”
Clearly Massoud, who had remained seated and expressionless, did not expect that comment as his eyes widened in alarm.
Roy could tell instantly by Massoud’s expression that there was some truth behind this statement. He lunged towards the table only to feel his collar grabbed, his head banged on the table, and by the thinnest thread of consciousness that he had been dumped in a chair.
“Who the hell are you?” Demanded Angus, now on his feet, sword drawn.
“You should leave now before we bury you here,” commented Ian, looking at the newly arrived man cooly.
“You should hold your tongue before you gauge the depth of the threat against you,” countered the stranger.
“No one speaks to Lord–” Angus began. His sentenced ended in a bloody gurgle from a motion so quick that it only really registered with Massoud and even then he knew he could never match a strike like that. Angus fell to the ground dead.
Roy had come fully back to the present and recoiled from the man who lay at his feet. “Who are you?” Cried Roy.
“He knows who I am,” said Duilach, pointing at Massoud. “But that is irrelevant. I need you two both alive, so for now you will leave each other in peace.”
“And what of me?” asked Ian without inflection.
Massoud glanced at the archer, wondering if the idiot had perhaps blinked and missed the fate of his recently living kinsman at the hands of the assassin.
“I have no use for you.”
“But I would aid you.”
Duilach laughed. “I am no stranger to the Beinn. The MacDonald Clan seeks no intrigue such as ours. Go about your way and do not think me for a fool as your cousin did.”
“He was my blood as you say. I am bound by that blood to avenge him or die in the attempt. Only if I am near you can I ever hope for that chance. Until that moment comes I can assist you, as will the Clan I lead.”
Massoud clearly thought the archer mad and that Duilach would cut him down where he sat, but instead he replied, “May one of us die with courage and honor on that day then.” He looked at them all, “Come you three, we ride.”
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