Ties and Obligations

[Dhugal]

The dream , when it came, was like many others he'd had since
the news of his cousin's death.. And yet, this time it was also a bit
different.
A hand shook at his ankle and he sat up in bed to see
his kinsman's shade standing at the foot of the bed. Of course
he knew it was a ghost. No one could have survived having
their arm mangled like that without bleeding to death.
"Wake up, slugabed. You have to go back."
"Back? Back where? Back to that pit of hell?" Kildrummy
shook his head. "I'm not going back to Myrken. Not until
the fighting season is over and my contract is up. You know
damn right well its not possible."
"You're needed."
"No I'm not. I have no ties there."
"We swore an oath to each other to take care of each other's
friends and obligations should one of us fall in battle."
"You didn't fall. You were eaten by damn direwolves."
His cousin's ghost shook his head in disgust. "In a battle. Do
not split hairs with me, cuz. This is not the logic class at seminary.
You have to go back to Myrken. You are needed."
And here is where the dream differed from those that came before.
"He needs help."
And then the bastard vanished, leaving Kildrummy to wake, shouting
at the top of his lungs : "Who ??"

The following day a messenger arrived at his billet bearing a letter.
Kildrummy knew the sender immediately by the penmanship of the
address on the envelope. Brother Cyth had displayed a fine hand in
copying books in the Scriptorium until his work began to effect his
eyesight. But what he'd written made no sense whatsoever to Kildrummy.
Pritchard dead? And a saint at that?
He grinned for a few minutes until he reached the part of the letter
describing the recent uproar that Cyth blamed himself for having begun.
`I fear there will be blood shed before long if cooler heads do not
prevail, but I do not think any at the tavern will let me in to speak
with them. I need your help. Please come as quickly as you can. Please!'
He scowled and crumpled the letter. There were very few people left
for whom he'd drop everything to respond to their call for help.
Brother Cyth was one.

A few hours later, the man calling himself Kildrummy was on the road back
to Myrken.

[Dhugal]

"We'll go into town in the morning. I have some professional contacts
down there and they'll help us find passage on a ship. Might take a few
days but we'll be on our way home soon, Brother, I promise you."

Kildrummy set the spit over the fire. then settled back a bit on his heels
to watch the rabbit to be sure it wouldn't fall off into the flames below.
Satisfied that dinner would cook safely, he looked over at his companion.
"I 'd wager you're happy the ride's nearly over, Brother?"

"I would have preferred we'd never taken it. But surprisingly I think I
shall miss it. It's been…restful?"

Kildrummy gave a short laugh. It might have been restful for Brother
Cyth but the highlander had spent the first few days waiting for either
ambush or pursuit. He'd expected the guard at the wall to send word
back to Myrken as to which direction the mercenary and the now
notorious monk had taken out of the district. The man had glared at
Cyth and only Kildrummy's own hard stare back may have averted an
ugly incident. Fearing the guard would alert the town that Cyth was
no longer safely on hallowed ground, Kildrummy had turned off the
road a few miles away from the gate and the rest of the trip had been
made cross country or on small roads that showed little sign of
recent use. Only after a few days with no sign they were followed
and without Cyth riding into a tree branch did the mercenary begin
to relax. Laughing again, he gave the spit a turn.

"So, Dhugal, what now?" Cyth poured some water into the wooden
cup and handed it to man.

"Dhugal's dead. The marker on the grave by the tavern says so. Call
me Kildrummy." He took the cup with his free hand, and set it on the
ground nearby. "I don't know, Brother. I will get back to my company
after I've seen you safely home. Maybe after our current contract is up
we'll invade Myrken and teach them manners?" He turned the spit.

"Oh no! Please, Dhugal. Yes, I said Dhugal! I might have gone along
with Hugh's masquerade when he was alive but there's no need now."
Cyth squinted at his friend. "Are you still angry with him, is that it?

Kildrummy shifted where he crouched, not noticing he'd spilled the
water as he did so. "Angry? You're damn right I'm angry! Hugh took m'
name wi'oot e'en havin' th' common decency o' tellin' me. I spent nearly
a year dodgin' enemies he'd made wi' m' name because they thought I
was him!'" His voice had risen and he'd slipped back into his native burr.
He smacked the ground beside his foot with a flat palm, then took a few
moments to regain his control before continuing. "Yes. I am still angry!"

There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the sounds of
meat cooking over the fire and the chirping of night insects. Cyth finally
shook his head. "Is that it, or are you more angry that he died before
you had the chance to see him and put things right between you? Hugh
was closer to you than your own brother, Dhugal. You thought he'd
betrayed you, didn't you. running off like that? You never got the chance
to ask him why."

Kildrummy glared at the monk. "Somewhat insightful for a monk who
tried to make a fat bartender into a saint, isn't it?"

Now it was Cyth's turn to look uncomfortable. "I had my reasons. A
saint would have brought pilgrims, which would be a lot less destructive
than the usual folk the place seems to attract. You haven't answered my
question."

"There is no answer. The only one with the answers was Hugh, and he's
dead now, isn' t he? Or Dhugal is."

The monk sighed, then pointed. "The rabbit's burning."

[Dhugal]

"There is no answer. The only one with the answers was Hugh, and he's
dead now, isn' t he? Or Dhugal is."…

The moment Hugh entered the tavern he knew he'd made a mistake,
quite possibly even a fatal one. Two men wearing McGrath tartans were
sitting at a table right by the front door and as soon as Hugh had walked
by them one had left hurriedly. No doubt he was fetching more men to come
and help avenge the McGrath honor.

Hugh continued making his way towards his usual table by the hearth as if
he hadn't a care in the world even as his mind grappled with the problem. He
should have listened to Dhugal's warning about keeping a low profile while
Dhugal made the hurried trip home to Kintail. But three days cooped up in the
small room at another tavern had been all a young man could be expected to
endure so he'd ventured out this rainy night in search of drink and fun.

"Well, "he muttered to himself, " I suppose this will classify as fun of sorts.
If I live to tell the tale." He motioned a barmaid over and ordered a whiskey.

It had been nearly a year now since the death of Jeannie McGrath and Hugh's expulsion from the priesthood. Once he'd escaped from his McGrath captors Hugh had made his way home where he'd been nursed back to
health.Then as soon as the Earl was reassured his disgraced son was fully recovered, Hugh had been shipped off here to the capital in the company
of his equally disgraced cousin Dhugal.

"See if you can keep each other out of trouble! Devil knows none of the rest us has had any success with you!" The Earl had settled an allowance
on the two of them as long as they stayed away but occasionally they ran out of funds sooner than expected. This was one such occasion, and so Dhugal had made the trip home leaving Hugh alone which tonight was a very bad thing indeed.

Hugh grinned as the maid returned with his drink. "Marianina, love, will
you have pity on a poor lonely highlander this eve? There's two gold coins
in it for you, lass."

"For two gold coins, m'lord, I can be a bloomin' well of compassion!
Come along upstairs, sir, and I shall gladly prove it."

Draining his whiskey, he stood and slipped his arm around her waist. A
whirl around towards the stairs gave him a brief glance at the doorway
where several figures were coming in from the rainy street. "Come quickly
then sweet`Nina, I fear our time together will be short indeed.

************************************
"Where is he? Don't lie, girl, we saw you come upstairs with MacParlan!"

Three rough looking men pushed their way past the wide-eyed Marianina
into her room, spreading out to search for her companion. They checked the
closet, then under the bed, even the clothes chest at the foot of the bed without finding Hugh. Snarling, the leader turned to glare at the girl.

"Where is he? We'll give you three gold pieces to tell us, that's more
than he gave you!" He held out the coins.

The girl quickly grabbed them before he could take them away. "Down the back stairs to the rear alley." She stepped outside the room and pointed
down the hall towards a door hidden in the shadows. "You missed him by
two minutes"

They were down the hall and out the door before she'd finished talking. `Nina gave a laugh, then turning back into her room crossed quickly to the small window beside her bed and opened it. Hugh was clinging to the trellis against the wall outside looking like a drowned rat in the rain. "You can
come in now! They're gone."

Hugh grinned. "Thank you, my love. I'm eternally in your debt." He
leaned out to grasp the window ledge.

Then the trellis gave way, and Hugh Muir fell into the darkness below.

[Dhugal]

Marianina had long enjoyed a succession of eager…admirers…and many
of them preferred a bit of discretion. So over the years the trellis outside her
window had seen a fair bit of traffic .The tavern keeper understanding that
a happy customer was a returning customer had sought to provide a bit more
privacy by screening the bottom of the trellis from prying eyes with empty crates and barrels stacked a few feet away from the wall.

When the trellis broke Hugh was just above the top of the makeshift
barrier and so instead of dashing his head on cobblestones he crashed into the crates below. They broke his fall, but the racket echoed off the alley
walls and drew the attention of his pursuers. He scrambled around looking
for cover and crawled into a nearby large barrel and hoping he'd not been spotted he kept as still as he could as footsteps came closer.

"Damn him! Where did he go?"

"He went that way!" Marianina shouted from her window. "The rogue was trying to climb back up into my room!"

Hugh wondered which way the barmaid was pointing so he could run the other way when he got out of this damn barrel. Assuming he could run anywhere, that was. His temporary shelter had been a wine barrel and the fumes from the wood were enough to make him dizzy.

One of the McGraths was skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he went that way towards the river, you oaf!" Then the sound of window shutters being slammed came as Marianina put an emphatic end to the conversation. Hugh vowed to reward the lass later for her ingenuity.

There was a moment's silence followed by hurried whispers among the hunters. Judging from the feet Hugh could see from beyond the mouth of
the barrel there were at least four men, all armed with swords while Hugh
had only a pair of daggers. His best hope was that the men would believe Marianina's ruse and head down the alleyway towards the docks, giving
Hugh a chance to sneak off up the alley to the street that led back towards his room.

It seemed like an eternity but finally the McGraths started to move away. "Damn him!" cursed the man Hugh had heard earlier, then a boot kicked at
the barrel.

And it began to roll down the alley, picking up speed as it moved downhill.

[Dhugal]

Hugh had a fleeting glimpse of boots as he rolled past the men of the
McGrath clan. There was nothing he could do about his present situation
but pray the barrel didn't roll all the way down to the wharves and into the
water and that those hunting him didn't realize that the barrel rolling away
from them didn't sound as if it were empty.

"Hey! HEY! Somebody stop that barrel!"

They'd sent the intelligent McGraths after him, apparently. Hugh cursed
as the barrel rumbled on bouncing off the cobblestones, the noise making
it impossible to tell how far back the others were behind it. He squeezed
his eyes shut, waiting for the sensation of falling to come that would tell him
he was about to plunge into the water. Then there was a loud CRACK
and the barrel came to a violent stop.

Hugh crawled out onto a rough surface, his head still spinning. The clansmen were not visible but he could hear them shouting off in the
distance and their voices seemed to be coming closer. He pushed himself dizzily to his feet and tried to get an idea of just where in Hades he had ended up. It was another alleyway, a bit wider than the one behind the tavern. Crates and boxes lined the walls on either side of it and Hugh
realized the walls belonged to two of the dockside warehouses. He'd been incredibly lucky.

He stumbled further down the alley and into the darker shadows, leaning
against a wall until the dizziness from the barrel ride completely passed and
checking himself for injuries. He ached all over but nothing seemed to be broken. He'd be stiff in the morning though after all this foolishness,
assuming he could survive until then. But if he was at a disadvantage in weapons, Hugh had one thing his opponents didn't: a familiarity with the
city that the Mcgraths couldn't possess. He waited a half-hour, then
made his way cautiously out of the alley onto the street, limping as he
went. If he could make it across to the other side he could cut through a smaller street and up the hill back to his quarters.

He was halfway across when he saw the clansman walking towards him
from his right.

"Hey you! You seen a barrel come rolling by here?"

Hugh wondered what Dhugal would do in a situation like this.

[Dhugal]

Hugh stared speechlessly at the approaching clansman as he tried to
come up with a reply, swaying a bit still with dizziness. The other man
took in that unsteadiness along with the odor of wine and made the
obvious conclusion.

"Did you see a barrel roll by or are you so drunk you wouldn't have
noticed it unless it knocked you over?"

For some reason that made Hugh think of all the times his father had
scolded Dhugal and he for some foolish escapade. Those memories gave
him a solution.

"Droonk? I'm nae droonk, y'..y'…" Hugh grasped for the word Dhugal
might have used."…y' numpty! If I was droonk, I'd be lyin' flat oon m' back!
As lang as I can walk, I' m nae droonk!" He used the thick highland brogue
that was Dhugal's when his cousin had a bit too much to drink.

The Mcgrath clansman swore and came closer, grabbing Hugh by the
right arm. "With that accent you have to be from home. Are you with Laird MacPharlan's son? What's your name?"

Hugh drew himself up with exaggerated drunken dignity. "I'm Dhugal MacPharlan o' th' Clan MacPharlan."

"You're not who we're hunting, but no doubt there's plenty of room in
hell for all you MacPharlans." The clansman grinned, reaching for his sword.

"Nae doobt." Hugh agreed, lurching forwards as if about to fall on his
face.Then he brought around his left hand to ram the dagger he'd been concealing up into the chest of his would be killer before the sword could
be drawn. Hugh leaned in closer so the dying McGrath could hear his
whisper. "You gang oon ahead first though, eh?"

He draped his right arm around the dead man's shoulders and moved towards the far alleyway as if it were now a pair of drunks moving across
the street. Once back into the shadows he shoved the body away, keeping his grip on the dagger's hilt so it slid free as the dead man fell. Hugh
cleaned the blade on his enemy's cloak and sheathed it, then moved off as quietly as he could.

Down the street, the other McGraths were calling for their missing kinsman.

[Dhugal]

Emerging from the far end of the alleyway onto yet another street,
Hugh picked up his pace. He was familiar with this area and hoped he
could make it to safety before his luck ran out. Once he was safely
off the streets he'd keep out of sight until the real Dhugal's return and
then propose to his cousin that it was time for them to move on to a
country with less McGraths running about.

A quarter mile down this street he turned off into another alley and
came out onto a third street. He began to relax; he was nearly there.
This part of town was home to many of the students at the various
universities and the MacParlan cousins had been among them. It had
been only natural to return here when Hugh had fled the McGraths'
vengeance.

By all rights he should have been safe now, but as he made his way
along the street he could see someone ahead with a drawn sword. It
was the leader of the pursuit.

"Well now, wasn't I the smart one to see that all I'd have to do is wait
here for the others to drive you into my waiting blade, eh MacParlan?"
His smile vanished though when he saw the sword Hugh was carrying
in its distinctive sheathe. "That's Michael's sword. Where is he?"

"In a warm place waiting for you." Hugh drew the blade but knew he'd
lose this fight; he was too sore and bruised from the barrel ride. He took a
few steps to his right, stalling for time as he tried to think of a way out of
this. His answer appeared in the guise of a trio of slightly drunken students
who emerged from a tavern doorway.

"Here now!"

"What is this?"

"MacParlan is that you?"

And Hugh smiled. "Aye, it's me, a poor student about to be attacked by
a gang of ruffians." By now the shouts further behind Hugh were telling him
the other hunters were gaining on him. "I could use some help."

The McGrath swordsman laughed. "Help? From these sots?"

"Well, yes. And their friends."

And that was when the three drunken scholars bellowed the traditional
rallying cry whenever one of their own clashed with the folk of the city:
"STUDENTS!"

Out of the taverns they came in answer to that call. A few seconds later
a opposing group of apprentices and town rowdies appeared to see what
the ruckus was about and the fighting began. In a few moments Hugh was
pushing his way through the crowd away from the fight but his opponent
was paralleling Hugh's route and then moved towards him, blade drawn.

Hugh had no choice. He would have to fight.

Then there was a loud roar of voices, someone shoved him from behind
and he fell forwards to hit his head on the cobblestones and knew no more.

[Dhugal]

Hugh woke to the sight of grey stone arching over him. His head
ached, and for a few bewildered moments he thought he was back in
the McGrath dungeons and that his escape and everything after was
naught but a fevered dream.

"Ah, awake are we? Here, see if you can keep some of this broth
down." A grey robed man bent over Hugh, moving a cup towards the
clansman's lips. "You had quite a nasty knock on your noggin but I
think you'll make a full recovery." Hugh took a few sips as instructed
and then chanced a look at his surroundings. He recognized them as
one of the infirmaries the universities maintained for their students. From
the number of patients around the room the riot must have been rather
large by the time it had been contained.

The healer took the cup of broth away. "If you can keep that down when
you sit fully up and you aren't dizzy I can release you. We've need for the
cot, you see." he said with an apologetic smile. "And I'm sure you'll want to
make arrangements for your kinsman." He pointed to a nearby cot whose
occupants form was completely covered by a cloak the McGrath colors.

Hugh sat all the way up. "Kinsman?"

"Yes. We did what we could but something hit him so hard in the face that
the bones of his nose drove up into the brain. I'm afraid the damage to his
face was extensive. It would help us if you could identify him for us. For our
records, you see."

Hugh didn't bother to nod. He was fairly sure doing so might be a mistake
given the way his head felt. But after a moment he pushed himself to his
feet and took a few tentative steps and finding that he wasn't going to fall
over on his face once again, he walked the rest of the way over to the body
and pulled back the cloak to look at the face.

It was the McGrath leader who'd barred his way on the street. His features
were so bloody and swollen though that it took Hugh a few seconds to realize
who it was laying there.

"So, what is his name?" The healer stood nearby with pen and parchment ready to add the name to the list of casualties.

Hugh was never quite certain why he said what he did next but at the moment it seemed like a brilliant idea. "He's my cousin, Laird Hugh Muir o' MacParlan."

The healer blinked. "Oh my. We will send word to his family at once, of course." To a city dweller one clan's plaids were indistinguishable from the other. "And you are?"

"Dhugal MacParlan o' th' Clan MacParlan. And I'll bring word o' his death
to his family myself. Now if y' will pardon my hasty departure, I must gae an' make th' prooper arrangements t' hae m' cousin's body sent hame."

"Of course."

Hugh gave the man some coins to pay for the necessary preparations
for the body and then left the infirmary. Word that a highland lord's son had
died in the rioting would buy him the time he'd need to get away out if the city. He would have to hurry though.

Sooner or later the rest of the McGraths would come looking for the body
to confirm the death of Hugh Muir and find one of their own instead.

By that time, Hugh intended to be far, far away.

[Dhugal]

It was nearly two days before the McGraths saw through
Hugh's ruse and once more took up their pursuit. By that time he
was well away from the capital and had sent word to his parents
and to Dhugal that he was still alive.

For the next few years the cousins continued the masquerade,
swapping identities and keeping the McGrath clan chasing them
from one end of the world to another. It was grand fun for the first
few years, but then a noticeable change began in both men. Hugh,
Dhugal as he was more widely known, became wild and drunken
as time went on, perhaps from his mourning for his lost Jeannie
McGrath. He took reckless chances but kept himself apart from
involvement with other people, at least until he reached Myrken
Wood. Somehow he became entangled in the lives of those he'd
met there, until at last he met his end in the pasture outside the
Broken Dagger.

As for the real Dhugal, his metamorphosis went in the opposite
direction. Extricating himself from whatever mess his doubled
reputation had gotten him into rapidly lost its appeal and he sobered
up. Part of his inheritance from his own father was the title to the
minor lordship of Kildrummy and he began using that name for his own.
It was something that was his alone, something Hugh could not take
away from him. He became a successful mercenary and lost contact
with Hugh.

Then word came from Cyth of Hugh's death, followed a short time later
by the dreams.

*********************************
"It's raining in Myrken."

Cyth and Kildrummy leaned against the ship's rail watching the shoreline
slip past as they sailed out to sea. The highlander glanced at the monk.
"You can't seriously believe I give a rat's arse about that place, can you?
Good, maybe the stone wall will hold it in and they'll be up to their necks in
mud."

"That's not a kind thought, Dhugal. I have friends there still, you know."

"Bluidy hell. Alright, Brother, maybe just up to their numpty kneecaps,
alright? Not that any of them have the common sense to come in out of
the rain. I mean, they built a bloody wall around a whole province! To
defend it, every damn man, woman and child would have to spend every
waking moment at the wall." Kildrummy snorted. "But I doubt they'll
have to do that."

Cyth looked at him curiously. "Why not?"

"When was the last time you heard of someone triying to break
into a lunatic asylum?"

Cyth sighed, shook his head, and didn't pursue it further. Kildrummy
was grateful for that. He stood silently watching Amasynia disappear
behind them and hoped there would be no more dreams of Hugh.

He hoped he'd never see Myrken again.