Chapter 1
Glen was a most befitting name for a horse. Especially considering how nimbly he raced through this one, the strong hooves shaking the earth below, ploughing through the amber leaves and sending a few wild grouse scattering into the safety of the bracken.
Donald McIntosh leant backwards, his thighs gripping the sturdy ribs of the Clydesdale beneath him, and let out a long whoop of joy. It reverberated off the mountains in the distance, and a small flock of sparrows escaped from a nearby tree and took to the skies, the beating of their wings and the shrill of their voices fading into the lazy afternoon air. The horse beneath him threw back his head and neighed loudly, joining his rider in careless elation as they galloped further into the mossy glen. A small stream gurgled past the horse and rider, spitting cooling droplets onto the stallion's hooves and following them with a hazy reflection.
"Aw no man, ye've gone an' been snatched up by a kelpie!"
Donald turned his head sharply to the right, to see a Clydesdale mare racing along the upper track of the glen, her bay coat shimmering where the patches of light from the overhead oaks hit her powerful legs. Upon her back was a man who was physically identical to Donald; although he wore slightly different attire. Douglas McIntosh.
Donald grinned, sticking his tongue out playfully at his brother, who returned the gesture. The stream turned sharply into the undergrowth, and Donald had reached the end of the trek-able glen. He gently rode to a halt, and waited for the other rider to catch up. It took a few moments for the other man to guide his mare down the grassy bank, but they eventually stood side by side. Glen nickered softly underneath Donald, and the two horses began to groom each other's necks.
A cooling zephyr whistled across the ground, stirring the grass. The men sat a while in silence, peering over the thicket to the vast expanses of green moor that lay beyond the overgrown brambles and stinging nettles. Mountains rose high and imposing in the distance, their white summits winking in the mid-afternoon sunshine. The two had often stared into the distance until their eyes blurred, wondering what lay in the lands beyond, but never knowing. This glen, as far as they were concerned, was theirs. No-one else ever came down, and no-one else seemed to know about it. This made it the perfect place to get away from castle stresses, or simply to sit a while in peace. When the silence began to drag, Douglas turned his attention back to his brother.
"Yer Glen's a fast one Donnie, ah'll give him that"
Donald smirked.
"Ah always knew he'd be the better. It's just ma superior skills, don't ye feel too bad Dougie"
Douglas gave a hearty chuckle, patting the red neck of his steed fondly.
"Ach, Glen's fast alright, but he has nae of his sister's agility. Ah doubt he could have climbed that incline like Skye here"
"He coulda climbed twice that height" Donald huffed, earning a laugh from his sibling.
"Maybe if he sprouted wings"
Suddenly, all four heads were turned northwards; startled by the sound of a deep horn. Skye shook her head, tossing her mane so that it slapped Douglas across the chest.
"Ach that'll be the maw"
"Aye, calling us fer haggis"
"Or a beatin'"
The two chuckled as they gave a gentle nudge to their mount's ribs and rode them towards the stone building in the distance.
"Thank ye Finlay"
The frail man smiled wanly.
"Thank you, your highness"
"Ye'll make sure he gets the fodder? None o' that dead grass an' muck"
"Only the best, sir"
Donald patted Glen's flank fondly, fed him a few oats and then strolled through the kitchen doors, stealing a piece of bread from off the sideboard as he made his way to the dining room.
Douglas shook his head at his brother's behaviour, and gently passed the reins of his mare to the servant.
"Sorry aboot ma brother Finlay, he's all pace nae care. But he means well ... fer Glen"
Finlay smiled more broadly at this twin, his dark lips twitching with bemusement. The stable hand had watched both brothers grow ever since they were 'wee bairns' charging about the yard and poking the ponies with sticks they found on the ground. Donald was certainly braver, more headstrong, but he lacked the same amount of empathy his brother possessed. But the man was still good of heart, which is why Finlay never thought badly of either of them. Plus they, like he, were now gentle to the horses, and the creatures showed no malice for the princes. Whoever horses trusted, Finlay O'Sullivan would trust too.
Douglas rubbed Skye's nose gentle with his knuckles, and followed his brother through the flagstone floored kitchens, up the spiral staircase, and through the main hall towards the feast room.
Donald was already seated near the high table, his plate piled high with samples of the feast laid out in front of them. Douglas pulled up a chair closest to his mother, and began helping himself to potatoes and meat.
About three quarters of his way into his roast beef, Douglas noticed there was an unusual air of silence. Well, apart from Donald's muffled chewing as he was stuffing his face with an unattractive amount of parsnips.
"Is everything alright mother?" Douglas turned to his maternal guardian.
Maggie Mcintosh was a stocky, strong woman, and a head taller than all of her female companions. She had wild, untamed crimson hair, which complimented the shade of tartan the Mcintosh clan wore. Her eyes were the same emerald green as her sons, and her nose had the same pointed curve. She wore a short fuchsia dress, loose fitting for movement, and a tartan garment draped over her left shoulder, and down past her knees, held together by a stocky leather belt. The tartan was wrapped also around her neck, and poking out from underneath; a silver chain with a charm of a thistle. She bore a permanent frown that was not intimidating, but gave the impression you had done something wrong - even if you were not aware of what it was.
Maggie's eyes flicked across the food to her husband, who, much like his eldest son, was busy gorging himself on rich amounts of stuffing. Calum McIntosh was another head taller than his wife, and slightly stronger in the torso. He had a mop of ebony hair, and chiselled sideburns. His eyes were light blue, and his nose had a deep hook. The king wore traditional Scottish attire – with the same crimson tartan as the rest of his clan, and his torso was decorated in light blue paint in Celtic designs. He often liked to boast over these, and wore them regardless of the occasion. When he locked eyes with his wife, he swallowed his mouthful slowly, and then rose from the table looking, in all his glory, like a phoenix from the ashes. Turning to his descendants, he cleared his throat.
"We will go for a walk tonight boys, we have an urgent matter to discuss"
The twins stared first at their father, and then at each other. It was very unusual for them to take a stroll with discussion, and only happened if something exciting was about to happen. Both princes felt a tingle of anticipation run up their spines.
Whilst the kitchen staff were cleaning up the place settings, Calum took his sons for the promised enigmatic stroll. The large oak doors of the castle creaked on their hinges, years of weather and the occasional battering ram had caused them to emit impressive creaks whenever they were opened. The air was cold, and when they breathed, the breath was visible of the three of them. If they looked up, they could see thousands upon thousands of stars, undisturbed in the clear night air, and twinkling peacefully amongst themselves in the blanket of the dark sky. The moors that stretched out the front of the castle were long and lonely, and Calum did not utter a word until they had reached the dip.
The dip, as its name suggested, was a crater in the Mcintosh moor. Stretching nearly 9 meters across and at least 4 deep, many legends had come to surround it. Some claim the stones of the Mcintosh castle were forged from a meteorite that had landed there. Other's claimed it was a giant's footprint, or a nest that had once belonged to a highland dragon. There were often strange reports surrounding the pit, servants would claim they had seen ethereal figures dancing in it. Most of the time they were also reported to have had more than their fair share of ale, so no-one was ever truly sure what to believe. However the pit had occurred, it was legendary to the Mcintosh clan, and if Calum had brought them here, the matter he wished to discuss must be of the upmost importance.
"Ye two are comin' o' age now" He began, slow and solemnly. All the while his eyes were fixed on the centre of the dip.
"Aye father, another two months should do it" Donald pointed out. "We'll both be ready then"
Calum's eyebrows rose slightly.
"So ye know why I've called ye out?"
Donald and Douglas exchanged an inquisitive glance.
"To discuss our prospects of rulership?" Douglas inquired.
Their father nodded gravely.
"Something like that" He lifted his left hand upwards, into the moonlight. Shining amongst the battle scars, on the second finger from the left, was a gold ring. Neither brother had to ask any further, although they felt their hearts hammer nervously against their chest.
"M-marriage?" Donald breathed, his emerald green eyes fixated on the small golden band.
Calum nodded, not lowering his hand.
"A-are we granted the choice?" Douglas stammered.
"Of sorts" Their father coughed "Yer mother has been in conference with the local tribes. Out of all o' them, she agreed to send tae daughters of the McClure's and Galloway's. You are lucky that ye are two, for ye may have the choice, if mutual"
"That explains the games ground" Donald frowned. As the brothers had approached the castle, they had noticed an abundance of servants setting up caber logs and archery targets.
"And how long will we have to ... prepare?" Donald's voice sounded unusually strained.
"Ah well ... we didn't want to frighten ya so we left it till ... last minute"
"Such as ... next week?" Even Douglas was surprised, although he was usually the calmer under pressure.
The king coughed, lowering his ring at last, and finally facing away from the dip, and looked his sons in the eyes.
"They arrive tomorrow"