Title: Battlebrand
Author: Miss Guinevere
Rating: PG-13... there's some violence.
Summary: Did you ever wonder how Drogyn and Hamilton met? I did...
Disclaimer:Unfortunately I do not own either one of them. If I did, there would be chocolate, strawberries... maybe even some whipped cream. But I don't.
A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta Tanya! hugs

Battlebrand

Prologue

795 - Fortrenn, Alba (Scotland)

These are troubled times. Many threats endanger mankind -- men, women and children alike. Tribes wage bloody battles against each other for supremacy over the most fertile areas of the land. A man can get beaten down by brigands, killed only for the clothes he is wearing. Rogues travel across this land and hide themselves like cowards in the vast forests that cover the hills of our homeland. They come out at night, raping, pillaging and murdering for their amusement only. The land is victim to chaos. Kings do not care about these people. Knights do not enter this territory to seek justice and protect the innocent. The people of our land are alone in this ordeal.

This is why we fight. This is why we ride through the country, searching out those in need of assistance and ridding them of the evil that plagues them.

As sons of the Picts, from the desolate lands north of the river Clyde, we learned to fight at an early age. Marcus was born to the Garthnait clan in the same year that I, Drogyn, was born to the Wredech clan. The village of Fortrenn was our home. The Garthnaits and the Wredechs were both part of the Denbecan tribe and therefore we grew up together. We were but children when it became clear that Marcus and I were destined for greater purposes. We were both blessed with remarkable strength and agility and as such we soon became feared among the tribes that fought our own.

Marcus is a great man in all aspects. He stands much taller than I do and his build strikes fear in the hearts of all men. In contrast to his appearance, he has a kind and pure heart. He is rash where I am thoughtful. He acts where I think. I trust him when my back is turned and will protect him with my life if need be. Marcus and I are not bound by blood but I hold him a brother. He is my ally in our battle against the dangers of our time.

"Marcus! There," I point out to my friend. He follows my gaze to a clearing up ahead where we see what appear to be druids struggling for their lives. Druids are few and far between in this age. Christianity has spread throughout the country, even as far north as we are now. At this time Christians are not tolerant of the Old Religions. By brute force they beat down anyone involved in ancient rituals, and this is what we are witnessing now.

Marcus spurs his horse on and I follow. Riding fast, I count at least two dozen men slaughtering four druids. Two of the priests are already down. The odds are against us but we have come up against worse. We dismount our horses and enter the fray. From the corner of my eye I see Marcus unsheathing his broadsword and taking down two attackers in one sweep. Reassured by his brazenness I set aside caution and wield a mace with my left hand, dagger in my right hand. Soon all I can hear is the sound of our weapons cleaving flesh and the thud of my mace connecting with bone.

I hear Marcus roar above the din of the struggle. A glance in his direction tells me he has suffered a hit to his chest, but it is not halting his vigor. From where I stand, the wound does not look fatal, but I feel the wrath rising in me and it causes me to assault our opponents with heightened force. By now, we have taken down more than half of the Christians.

Suddenly, I feel a sword go through me from behind, just below my heart. Incredulous, I look over my shoulder and see my attacker's triumphant face just before Marcus severs his head. He rushes to my side, fending off the others with his sword while he examines my wound. The look on his face tells me this wound might be deadly. I feel myself slipping away while Marcus turns around and releases the force of his fury on the men that are still standing. I have always admired his sword fighting skills and while I struggle to remain conscious, this is what I focus on.

Marcus has defeated all men but one when he turns back to me to verify whether I am still alive. Marcus always acts on feelings rather than reason, and his impulsiveness is what earns him a blow to the head that I suspect will be mortal. While he falls to the ground, he thrusts his sword in the chest of the one remaining man. With my last strength, I crawl towards him and cradle his head in my arms. Blood is running down his temple and pours out of his mouth. His breathing is laboured and irregular. I know we will not be long for this world. I feel his life force slipping away and I am not in better shape. I can form only one coherent thought before darkness captures me.

I should have protected Marcus. My brother.

Part two coming soon...