Fear of the Dark
by The Mad Scot
The Fall of Clan MacCleod…
The castle was well prepared as the clansmen began to settle in for a possible siege from the one called "Hamster". Word had reached the fortress that a large contingent of men and a sacred Wooden were holed up in the Sinmoryr Forest trapped at the feet of a newly created range by the wizards of Canute. With all eastern access denied and the full knowledge of the clan's position in the war there seemed little doubt that the armies of the "Hamster" would now turn their eyes north. Commander Hamish had secured the tower and reinforced the guards with a troop of 250 recruits, add to that the Wooden summoned by the Druids and all seemed well for them. The battle would be difficult, but by Bork, the Clan MacCleod would hold.
Late in the afternoon a messenger arrived with orders from the High Laird himself. It was unusual for their chieftain to send orders so late before battle, but it did happen, although rarely. Hamish had read the original orders only a few nights before and they had seemed quite clear,
"They are on your doorstep, hold fortress with all possible vigor. The druids have called up a spirit of the land, whose name is Tier, and it shall join your men shortly. All faith in you Hamish, and we shall drink to victory on the morrow."
Signed, The Mad Scot.
Now, as the messenger approached, Hamish could only pray it was not bad news. He received the crisp parchment and hardly believed the words written on it, but what could he do, it was signed by the Mad Scot himself.
Later, as the men were assembled in the main bailey Hamish directed the company leaders. "Alright the objectives are clear. We have new information that the "Hamster" does not have men east of here. Therefore, we are to take a contingent of men and scout the Sinmoryr Forest, and reinforce our men in the Eastern Grakger Plains. One other troop is to proceed to the Cairn of the Whispering Knolls and await further orders.
There was a look of skepticism on the face of old Glynn, who quickly spoke up.
"Hamish, why would we send men up to the temple? Does the High Laird expect deceit from the Prophet Moad? That hardly seems likely."
Hamish shook his head. "Aye, I would bet a month's wages that you are right, but we have our orders and we will follow them. Whether the High Laird sees possible trouble or has other plans, I know not, but we must make haste as the order clearly state that we must be on our way by nightfall."
The group then assembled and the captain of the guard signaled and escorted all the columns out the main gate and on their way. Hamish then went, grabbed some food and mead, and climbed one of the outer ramparts to watch the night drop down on the cold forest.
Three hours later there was a call from the watchtower. Hamish found the men of the garrison moving about the fortress in various states of readiness. A page ran up to him and kneeled. "Commander, a large army of men has been spotted just inside the tree line. They are marching hard on our southern walls."
Hamish was dumbfounded and quickly joined the men reinforcing the front gate. As he began to look into the gloom, archers let loose from the woods and men charged forward with siege ladders. His mind raced with the reality that faced him and as he began to formulate an explanation a thunderous pounding suddenly rocked him to his knees. He got up and looked between the crennelans and as he did, rising up from below, hammering the walls and gate of the fortress was a Wooden. His men raced back and forth attempting to land solid blows with claymore and spear, but most fell away uselessly. Hamish knew that he had only some 150 soldiers and that they hardly stood a chance, but he would not go down without a fight. He immediately began to coordinate attacks on the mystical creature, which had greater effect, but while his men focused on the Wooden the enemy troop was slowly gaining the walls and the main gate was soon to break.
Suddenly, a wind rose up and there was a cry from the ranks of the "Hamster's" men. Out of the corner of his eye Hamish could see men flying into the air or being flung up against the stones of the fortress. Then the benefactor was revealed. The Wooden called Tier had arrived. The false message directing Hamish to send his men out and leave the castle defenseless had not gotten to the Druids and so Tier made his appointed rendezvous. The great mystic wooden, child of Bork moved among the enemy like a fiery brand killing men left and right. Meanwhile the last group of defenders fell back and stood before the barracks as the Wooden of the "Hamster" came crashing through the main gate. It stormed through the bailey smashing the inner portcullis and advanced towards their position. Hamish called his men into a phalanx and prepared for the fight, but the great creature suddenly seemed to lift off the ground magically. There behind it was Tier, holding it and wrestling it backwards. Then the creature broke Tier's hold and swung about on it's would be attacker. The two circled one another, and then locked hands in a battle of pure strength. The men of Clan MacCleod tried to help but were never sure of which was which. As the battle progressed though it became more obvious. Tier had suffered at the hands of the enemy far more then the other Wooden. It slowly began to gain the edge and Tier faltered. He bent to his knees in exhaustion and at that moment the creature raised its fist, which became wreathed in flame, and brought it down like a hammer upon the head and shoulders of Tier. The great Wooden looked up at its brethren one last time and fell splintering into a thousand sparks that lit up the night and as they died, made the impending darkness seem that much blacker.
Hamish stood silently as he witnessed the last hope of his men pass away into the air and ground. The remaining Wooden, whose green eyes reflected dully, turned and faced the clansmen. Hamish knew now that there would be no escape, no quarter given by the beast before him. Turning to his men one last time he shouted out across the bodies of the dead and near dead so that his words echoed back and filled the empty halls; "Stand tall ye men of valor, so that the world will know that here stood MacCleod, here stood the sons of MacCleod, here stood warriors unafraid."
In the castle of Air Chuthach, as Gigan runs high, the Mad Scot weeps at the news and swears in silence that his people shall not have died in vain. He looks up to the messenger and speaks in a choked voice. "Tell the clans of the south to be ready. The "Hamster" will not rest. He is a general and a tested leader of men. There will be more death before we turn back this tide.” The Scot rises and walks to a covered window, "the black days have only begun," he whispers as he draws the curtains wide and speaks to the night. "The gods help us all, for we have become the ambassadors of Hell."