Page 56 of Steel & Surrender

Greig seemed to gain on her with every stride.

The mountaintop reared before them, a wide plateau that was just yards away now.

They crested it side by side, both limping at this point.

And there before them stretched the summit of Ben More, wind-scoured, broad, and strewn with stones.

Breathing hard, Brìghde bent double, unable to take much in for the moment. Her lungs were pumping so hard, they felt ready to seize. Her blood roared in her ears. She thought she might be sick.

Next to her, Greig gasped for breath, one hand on his knee, the other gripping his stick.

For a short while, neither of them could speak.

Eventually, Brìghde’s pulse started to slow, and the nausea and the burn in her lungs eased. Only then did she straighten up, sweeping her gaze in a slow circle.

To the east, the Sound of Mull shone silver-blue in the afternoon sun. Aye, the afternoon—it had taken them that long to reach the summit.

Beyond the Sound, the mainland rose against the sky, hazy blue, for it was so far away. And to the west, Brìghde spied the wild sea, vast and restless. To the north, Mull unfolded in deep-green ridges, lochs, and glens, hills that faded into the distance.

Her breath caught.

Lord, it was a sight.

The wind eddied around them. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Eventually, Brìghde glanced Greig’s way. “What do ye think?”

He, too, had straightened up, still leaning heavily on his stick. Face flushed and gleaming with sweat, he gazed around. “It’s even bonnier than I imagined,” he murmured, awe in his voice. “I now understand what ye meant when ye said it reminds ye of yer insignificance. Ye’re right. Long after we go, this great mountain will still stand … and it cares not for all our troubles.”

Brìghde’s lips quirked. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

He huffed a sigh then, cutting her a rueful glance. “Looks like it was a tie, Boyd.”

She shrugged. “We’ll be buying our own ales at the alewife’s then.”

Muttering something under his breath—for the fact he hadn’t bested her still clearly stung—he pushed off with his stick and limped heavily across the summit. A few yards on, he found a spot on the northern side where a large, flat, sun-warmed boulder sat. And there, he lowered himself onto it. “I’ll get the ales, lass,” he grumbled then. “It’s the least I can do.”

Smiling, Brìghde approached and took a seat alongside him. “How’s the leg?”

“Hurts like toothache,” he replied with a grimace, “but then, I’d be surprised if it didn’t.”

“It didn’t fail ye though, did it?”

“No … although things might get interesting when we begin our descent.”

“We’ll rest up before we do that,” she assured him, unslinging the leather backpack she’d brought up with them. In it, she carried a cloth bundle. “In the meantime, let’s enjoy the view. Ma prepared us a good meal to enjoy while we’re up here.” She withdrew a clay bottle. “Her apple wine is delicious too.”

She unwrapped the cloth, revealing two huge pork pies, boiled eggs still in their shells, and two honey cakes studded with raspberries.

She flashed him a smile, suddenly shy. “Ma wanted to ensure the heir to Duart was fed well … I hope it’s to yer liking.”

“It looks delicious,” Greig assured her. “Thank her for me later.”

Brìghde nodded before gesturing to the food. “Go on, help yerself.”

He didn’t need to be urged twice.

They both took their pork pies and bit into them.