Free Calgaich the Swordsman by Gordon D. Shirreffs Page A

plunged head over heels in a mad race to reach the sea loch far below. Calgaich waded upstream. He did not look back at her.
    Cairenn kilted up the cloak and stepped into the flood. The icy water flowed about her privates and the lower part of her belly so that she was almost paralyzed. There was not a stitch of clothing from beneath her breasts to her cloth-bound feet. Now and again she would stagger toward the snow-covered bank of the stream with a look of sheer agony on her face, hoping that Calgaich would take pity on her; but he never looked back. If she Fell behind, she wasn’t sure but what he would abandon her. She knew what would happen if those savage hounds caught up with her.
    The harsh baying of the hounds echoed across the great glen. Once, in a shifting of the morning wind, the sound of shouting was interwoven with the baying of the hounds;
    then the sounds receded, seemingly toward the shore of the sea loch.
    The sun was up high when at last Calgaich waded from the icy stream and peered down the long tree-shrouded slopes. Cairenn gratefully followed him from the water. She could no longer feel her legs or feet beneath her. She could not feel her sodden wet clothes as they dropped to cling against her reddened legs and ankles.
    "They have followed the shore,” he murmured, almost to himself. "They are looking for the Picts. The hounds might still pick up our trail into the hills.” He looked around to where Cairenn had slumped onto the ground. "Come, we have no time for rest. Come now, woman.”
    He led the way up a steep and slippery slope until at last the two of them stood on the great ridge that formed the southern side of the glen. Far below them the smoke was raveling off thinly before the brisk morning wind.
    Calgaich got off the skyline and opened the bundle of loot. He sat with his back against a tree, idly watching Cairenn as she dressed. Once their eyes met and she looked hastily away from him. It seemed to her that he was always watching her nakedness with a mildly speculative eye. The boy's clothing was filthy and it stank, but it was warm. She did not allow herself to think of what the boy's fate must have been, to remember the circling ravens. For now, finally, she was warm. Perhaps renewed strength would also come to her.
    Calgaich drank steadily from one of his treasured jugs. He handed Cairenn a piece of the smoked venison and broke one of the loaves of bread in half with his bloodstained hands. He let her take a pull from the jug. She coughed as the fiery usquebaugh burned her throat.
    Calgaich grinned. "The very water of life. Like mother's milk.” He handed her the boy's dirk and took back his own long-bladed dirk. He formed two packs and handed her the smaller and lighter one. "We'll march all this day to put as much distance between us and the Damnonii as we can. This is their country for several days' more travel. In a few more days after that we should be in my country —if you can keep up.”
    "And if I can't?” she said softly.
    He shrugged. "March or die,” he replied carelessly.
    "Will we be safe in your country?”
    "Why do you ask?”
    "You didn't leave Albu by choice. You were a hunted man here. When we reach your country will you still be a hunted man, Calgaich?”
    He looked beyond the ridge toward the jumbled hills and mountains beyond them. "I don’t know,” he replied softly. "It has been three years. Once I had many friends and relatives among my own people. Now, I do not know. Those Picts in the reiving ship were waiting for me off the coast. They knew I was returning here from Eriu. They meant to stop me. Someone must have paid them to do that. My father is no longer chief of the clan. My uncle, Bruidge of the Battle-Axe, has taken his place by right of tanaise ri. ”
    "Your father's only brother. It was he who fostered you until you were a warrior. Does that mean nothing to him?” Her emerald eyes blazed. ^
    He looked down at her. "The man I killed over a woman