Page 53 of The Speed of Lightning
The men moved unevenly. Calum prowled the lines. “Orders require speed. If you lag, you’ll earn my special attention. And if you roll your eyes”—he leveled a look at Balder—“I’ll notice that too. From now, press-ups in groups of three. Master MacFadyen, count them off.”
Murdoch barked, “Drill to twenty, all together. Do you understand?”
“Aye, Master MacFadyen!”
He, Murdoch, and Da dropped into position with them.
“Up, down, up?—”
“ONE!”
By twenty, men were collapsing, chests heaving. Some sagged to their knees, others stuck their rear ends high to ease the strain.
Calum barked, “I did not release you from front rest! Back down!” His gaze snapped to Balder, slouched to one side. “Come here, young Balder. You are under my special attention.”
Balder groaned, dragging himself up. From across the field, Ragnall shot to his feet, his face red and agitated. “How dare you treat the son of theArd-Druid?2 this way!”
Grufa rose too. “He still has no respect for this clan or our gods!”
Jaw clenched, Calum ignored them. “Young Balder, it seems your clan objects to your training. Sit.”
Balder smirked and flopped into the dirt, watching as the others strained in front rest.
Calum looked over the men, sweat and blue paint dripping from them. “On your feet!”
Da and Murdoch echoed the command.
“Since Balder is too valued to sweat with you, you’ll carry his weight. Run the field. Each time you pass him, thank him—for making you stronger. Do you understand?”
“Aye, Cù Cogaidh!”
“Laps, move!”
Balder rose, his expression uneasy. “I’ll run with them.”
Calum shook his head. “Stay. I wouldnae disrespect the son of the Ard-Druid by asking him to do what is beneath him.”
The men streamed toward Ardlussa Wood, jogging in steady lines. Only Ragnall and Grufa stood still. Irritation pricked Calum—another challenge already. He strode to his father-in-law. “Why are you not running with the rest?”
Ragnall’s face purpled. “Unconscionable. I am leader of the MacSorleys—you hold no superiority over me.”
Grufa’s gaze lingered grimly on his son. Balder sat apart, shifting uncomfortably as men passed him, muttering thanks and shooting glares. Dirt was kicked in his direction; he triedto laugh it off. “My father will sort this,” he called, but the men jogged on without reply.
Calum folded his arms, facing Ragnall. “I have been sent by the king to form Jura’s defense. I am your tànaiste?—”
Grufa stepped forward. “You’ve never sworn your vows to Odin. Instead you follow your weak half-god, Jesus. I do not recognize you. Nor do many MacSorleys.”
A few joggers slowed, listening closely. Calum saw the agreement in their eyes.
Ragnall’s head lifted high, exultant. “Swear to Odin now. Or are you no’ man enough?”
Calum bit back his temper. “In the strictest sense, you are right, Grufa. I havenae sworn to your gods—because I’ve no use for them.”
Shouts erupted. Several men stopped, rallying behind Ragnall and Grufa. Murdoch and Da halted too, crossing back to see the brewing fight.
Calum raised his voice above the din. “I have sworn my oath to this clan by the power of the only God. Beware, Grufa—He has heard your boasting.”
The crowd quieted, eyes turning skyward as rain began to patter from the swirling indigo clouds.
