Page 66 of Only a Breath Away

“Would ye see tae a cup of ale, Caillean? I will speak with Wallace for a moment.”

I fished the watch from my bag, I dinna hae much time left.

I said tae Wallace, “I hae a few moments. It must be brief.”

William Wallace said, “I was trained by a man, he went by the name Quentin. He was black-skinned, as ye mentioned. I daena ken why I dinna remember it afore. It came tae me a few hours ago, as ye asked, ye said, perhaps I had been trained by a black man, and Ihad. This is why I hae come, tae get some of the weapons from ye.”

I eyed him while he spoke, his cloak opened so he was showing his sword, his hand rested on the hilt, his fingers poised tae draw it.

I shook my head. “Nae, I winna give ye any weapons. Was this what ye needed tae speak tae me on?” I made tae walk away, but noted that he stepped in front of m’path.

I noted his stance — he was always on edge, lookin’ for a fight, but today he seemed unusually edgy.

“Where are yer men?”

I smiled. “They are just behind ye, in the Great Hall, ye shouldna start trouble.”

He sneered, “I demand the weapons, liege.” He spit in the dirt.

“Ye are goin’ tae demand them of me? As if I am nae yer king?” I pulled my cloak closer around me tae hide m’holstered gun from his view.

He drew his sword. “Give me the weapons, or I will kill ye and take them for m’self.”

I drew my own sword. “Ye daena want tae fight yer king, this winna end well for ye.”

“I daena think ye are a king, I think ye are a usurper. That ye hae taken the throne.”

“Tis treason that ye are speakin’.” I prowled around him.

“Ye’re no’ my king.”

“Ye are rash, William Wallace, just a young man, beggin’ tae fight. Ye are going tae need tae be wiser than this if ye are tae wage war against the English king.”

He stepped back and looked at the walls. “Says the man who daena hae a guard. Yer men are nae here tae fight alongside ye.” His voice echoed against the stone:ye daena hae a guard, where is yer guard…

I glanced at the walls. Twas true, all m’men were gone. There was a breeze blowing through, sending a bit of dust spiraling intae the sky. The space seemed ominously empty — William Wallace lunged, slicing my left shoulder, a deep cut that brought with it intense, knee-buckling pain.

Blood soaked through the arm of my tunic.

I swum up through the pain tae focus —focus!I roared, swung my sword, hard, down, furiously knocking his blade away, and charged him, slamming against him, wrestling him tae the ground. Holding my sword aimed down upon him, I growled, “Ye are weak, ye are lost, ye are too stupid tae ken ye arna ready tae aim yer sword at a king.”

He said, “Yer blood is pouring from ye.”

“Aye, tis, but I will survive it. Will ye survive my blade aimed at yer skull…?”

“Nae.”

“What say ye — if I allow ye tae walk from this courtyard, will ye go?”

He nodded.

I stepped off him.

He slowly stood, then lunged again. But I caught him with a step and stabbed him clear through, shoved him tae the ground and yanked my sword from his stomach. He groaned desperately as he died.

I swept my eyes around the courtyard, the wind picked up, a howl through an empty courtyard. Blood dripped down my fingertips.

I strode tae the Great Hall, tae ask Caillean for help with m’wound, but he wasna there. There was nae cask of ale, nae ash in the fireplace. The benches were grey and splintered. All signs of life were gone.

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