The Highlanders by Stuart Daly

Author:Stuart Daly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia
Published: 2014-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

They flew north, following the coastline for a further two hours before they reached a snow-capped mountain range, which Sara identified as Kilkaren Heights. They turned westward, using the clouds and mist that hung like a veil above the mountains to conceal their passage. The wind died, but the temperature dropped considerably, forcing them to draw the folds of their cloaks tightly around their necks. Apart from a few shaggy-haired highland yaks, they saw no evidence of life below. There were few trees this far north – the only vegetation being patches of scrub and the red heather blanketing the slopes of the mountains. In spite of all they’d been through today, Caspan couldn’t help but again admire the rugged beauty of the land.

They barely spoke during the journey. Even Roland, who’d normally break the monotony of such long flights with humorous remarks, sat quietly in his saddle, staring sombrely ahead. Caspan could only imagine everyone was thinking about how close they’d come to death at Mance O’Shea’s Break. The run-in with the war band had been a chance encounter, but it was a sobering warning of the danger they faced. They were now travelling even deeper into enemy territory, and Caspan wondered what perils awaited them at Loch Bermon-Clyde.

Caspan and Shanty used the flight as an opportunity to take stock of their injuries. Shifting in his harness, Shanty managed to apply a bandage to his wound. Though it was makeshift, it had stopped the bleeding. Fortunately, too, the cut wasn’t deep and he could wait until they returned to the House of Whispers to get it properly sutured.

In contrast, Caspan felt aches and pains all over his body. The rafters had broken his fall, but he had hit the flagstone floor hard regardless. He didn’t think he’d broken anything, but he was sure he’d be covered in bruises by the morning. He’d also have a nice scar on his face as a memento of the arrow that grazed his cheek. Though, it was a small price to pay for his life, he thought, as he replayed in his mind the desperate last stand at the battlements.

‘I owe you one,’ he whispered, leaning low against Frostbite’s neck.

The drake glanced back at him, blinked, then swooped through a blanket of clouds.

Caspan felt a great sense of security knowing his Warden would never abandon him in a fight. But by putting himself in danger, Caspan also risked Frostbite’s life. As fearsome a fighter as the drake was, weapons could penetrate the soft scales on his belly, and Caspan was concerned that he would get injured. The drake was lucky that no archers had been atop the wall, otherwise things might have been ended badly.

Still, who am I to complain? Caspan pondered. If it weren’t for Frostbite, Lachlan and Talon, Shanty and I wouldn’t have made it off the wall.

A further two hours passed before the land began to lower, eventually tapering into hills that bordered the mirror-like surface of a meandering loch.

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