Page 38

As she held a hand within each of her own, Gwyn began to move from the Laird Chattan's final resting place.

The two that she held were so vastly different.

It was a small one from her son on her left and the cold trembling one of Philomena on her right.

She knew in that moment she was the strength for both and would never allow them to feel her pain and uncertainty.

She knew she must be resilient for them and care for each regardless of the circumstances.

The small grouping had walked fewer than twenty uncertain paces as the hum of voices began to rise all around her.

Gwyn's mind drifted as she heard none of the words spoken while she concentrated on her heartfelt grief that proliferated on this day.

It was only the stillness and emptiness of her mind that ruled her thoughts and prevailed upon her stilted actions.

As the wind picked up all around her forcing the light tendrils of her hair to brush across her desolate face, Gwyn heard a deep and guttural cry in the distance.

As her eyes immediately focused in the direction the sound had come, the band of warriors surrounding the graveside froze.

That was until, Iver countered with his own cry.

As if in planned synchronization, the unsheathing of swords could be heard echoing shrilly all around them.

In that moment of utter confusion, a band of warriors crested the far hill wearing an unfamiliar plaid showing mostly of red.

It was not the size of their army nor the anger upon their faces that caused a terror to rise within Gwyn's breast. Instead, it was that they were flanked by many who wore the dark blue and green of the Chattan.

"Holy mother of mercy!"

The words slipped unheeded from her lips. She realized some of her own clansmen had incited a war and would meet them on this treacherous day and upon this most sacred of grounds.

Gwyn still held the hands of those two around her tightly as within that one moment, Iver stood before her as he pleaded with Donnan at his side.

"Guard her with all that you have and your life if you must! Donnan, I must have your pledge!"

The words were ripped from Iver's throat as he shouted over the rising sounds of battle as he stared only at his cousin.

"Go, my laird. Fight for what is rightfully yours! You need not worry and I will protect her with my life!"

Iver could say no more to his friend and for a fleeting moment, much passed between the two who were as close as any brothers could ever be. It was obvious no further words were necessary as the promise that had been extracted told of what was the most important in Iver's mind.

Iver understood the severity of the situation.

He knew there was no time to speak the words he had hoped he would have the time to say to his Gwyn.

Even still, in that brief time of truthfulness as he turned to face the one woman who had unknowingly captured his heart, he understood that words would never be necessary.

In that one fleeting moment as their eyes locked together, their pledge had been silently made.

They were wordlessly binding themselves to each other for the rest of eternity.

"Be safe, Iver!"

Gwyn could not help whispering the words as Iver turned from her. She watched as he rushed forward while the rest of his men flanked his side.

She was taken from her thoughts as she heard a scream from beside her. It was Philomena who was obviously in a panicked state. Desperately, the woman at Gwyn's side shook her hand free as she moved in the direction of her departed Errol.

Gwyn could only stare in horror as a few of the men with the unknown plaid attempted to dig up what they had just buried.

"Oh, lord above!"

She could only stare and wonder how it could get much worse realizing they were truly going to desecrate the laird's body while upon sacred ground. Quickly, Gwyn dropped the hand of her son as she shouted over her shoulder.

"Donnan, protect Durell with your life! I will go after Philomena!"

She knew that both her son and Donnan were shouting at her above the clamor but she had but one mission upon her mind.

She had pledged to her laird and husband upon his deathbed she would protect his true love.

She would do nothing but attempt those means for her word was the only worthy thing she had remaining.

She knew in her heart for all of her transgressions, she owed him this much.

"Philomena! No! Please you must come back!"

As if in response to the devastation happening all around her, the skies above opened and the torrential rains poured down all around them. Her hair and her dress grew heavy with their burdens as the ground became instantly slick with mud.

Philomena was only a few steps ahead of her and she knew she must reach her before it was too late. She was also aware she was headed directly into the heart of the battle. Even still, she found herself running in her direction as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Just as Gwyn placed her hand upon Philomena's shoulder to prevent her from progressing any further, a volley of arrows graced the sky above and began falling all around them.

Over the sound of the pouring rain, she could hear the whispers of danger as they fell very near and the screams from those who had been struck down.

A burning pain was felt as one grazed Gwyn's own arm but it did not deter her in her quest to protect the one she had vowed to defend.

As Gwyn grasped Philomena more tightly, she heard the one who had been her laird's true wife scream.

It was in that same instant she felt as she involuntarily convulsed within her grip.

It was as if all motion around her suddenly ceased as the petrified face of whom she now called friend forever branded itself within her mind.

The pain showing was gripping, but the terror in Philomena's eyes revealing as the older woman began to fall to her knees.

Gwyn held her tightly as she realized the arrow that had struck had pierced through her heart and took her life instantly. As Gwyn struggled to lay her gently upon the now sodden earth, she felt hands upon her arms and an urgent voice behind her of Donnan.

"Please, my lady, we must go! I must protect you and Durell and get you away from here! It is no longer safe for either of you!"

As the face of Philomena softened for all of eternity, the pain upon Gwyn's heart grew tenfold.

It was then when the words permeated her mind and she knew she had but one option left open to her.

She must leave with Donnan and do all she could to protect her son and the future leader of the MacLaren.

It was far too dangerous to stay here within the Chattan especially since many assumed Durell to be the direct descendent of Errol and his only heir.

Gwyn looked into the desperate face of Donnan as he grasped her to his chest while protecting her body with his own. As they raced to the edge of the trees, she shouted loudly and in near panic.

"Durell? Where is he?"

"This way, my lady. I have horses and some men and he is already with them. I must remove you from these lands!"

She found herself running with the Highlander over the sodden earth in the opposite direction of the raging battle behind them.

Relief flooded her mind even throughout all of the peril as they breached the slight rise.

Before them were six horses and riders. Five men who she recognized as the best of Iver's own sat astride their steeds.

One of the warriors held her son and the final horse was unoccupied.

"This way, my lady."

Quickly, Donnan moved to the beast and placed Gwyn within its saddle.

He mounted behind her and in that instant was moving quickly across the hillside through the trees and leaving the land of the Chattan behind them.

As Gwyn peered over her shoulder through the still falling rains, a true sadness settled upon her heart.

"I never dreamed it would end like this!"

She was leaving the people she had lived amongst for nearly a full decade and the only home her son had ever known. With more pain than she had ever experienced, she conceded she was also deserting the only man she had ever loved.

Deep in her heart, she knew she had no other choice.

"Be safe, my love."

As they galloped across the Chattan lands and crested yet another hill and she found the battle now gone from her view, a silent desperation filled her breast for all she had lost. She saddened for all that the people of the Chattan had to relinquish and could only hope for two outcomes.

She first prayed Iver and his men would be victorious.

Only then did she pray that she and her small party could be safely removed from the grip of its desolation.