“Every true warrior is an honorable warrior,” the vampire had said and as Cal stood watch near the river he thought long and hard about that. What kind of warrior was he? No kind. Well, maybe a warrior for truth but did any of that matter? Images of his life flashed and slithered across his mind but knowing it was all the imagination of some screenplay writer, he found no importance at all. Reviewing the new brothers he’d met since crossing over, he understood that some of them arrived as warriors, even though their lives, too, were written for a silver screen … even the ones whose story was based on a real life, like Wigand.

Thorne came a soldier, Richie was a cop, Biebe, a sheriff. They were all honorable men, but the truth of the matter had to do with what they’d done since arriving. The choices they made in this life made them what he respected. Hell, look at Wade. The man was an outlaw but everything about him shouted honor, and every bit of it had to do with the way he lived his life now. How was Cal living his life? What choices had he made?

He’d been a petulant kid, trying everything he could to ignore the advice from the others, avoiding relationships, even friendships. Hell, all he wanted to do was get away from Vermont. No, he didn’t hate Vermont; he didn’t hate the Inn or even Biebe. It was what it all represented, that irritated him. He wanted what he had … not the responsibility of rebuilding anything new. He wanted his life back … even if he couldn’t have it the way he imagined it was. So, okay, he couldn’t just step back through the Portal, all he’d be doing was reliving the same two hours of existence over and over. He understood that, he bought it, hook line and sinker. He believed it. But he still wanted it all back. With no history in this world, he would be starting from the ground. Of course that didn’t sit well so … he wanted to write a book. That would get him recognized by the publishing industry. He had a plan: With a top ten best seller on the New York Times list, he’d be able to convince the news people to recognize him as an expert, someone who can see the details. Yeah, that’s how he’d get back! If he wanted to write again in the political arena and regain a position with the Washington Post, maybe he’d better take his focus from the Culloden battle, and seriously examine the Jacobite initiatives and practices. Having come simply to watch a fight was a cool concept, but was it a forward step to his goals or just an interesting experiment? And how many experiments would Northman be willing to take him on?

Water splashed and the naked vampire did the backstroke before coming to the shore and dressing. Cal thought deeper. Something about his theory was flawed. What did he respect about his brothers? Their honorable nature. How did they earn that? Through their actions.

He blinked, looked around. Just beyond that rise were the dead bodies of several red coated British soldiers and several noble Highlanders. Highlanders. His people. His ancestral land was soaked in the blood of freedom fighters. What was so damn honorable about documenting it all from the scene of the crime … as a damn lookie-loo observer? What was he thinking?

“Teach me to fight,” Cal huffed as Eric joined him.

“You are a good watch guard. I’ll do the fighting for you.”

They walked slowly toward the camps. Light from the fires made the near horizon glow yellow in the darkness and Cal shivered. “I want to fight for my people, for my country.”

Eric turned a glare. “You’re an American.”

“This is my ancestral home, Eric. I can’t just sit back and watch this shit happening. While we’re here, I want to fight too. I want to be part of this.”

The vampire stopped and Cal turned. “What?”

“You can’t change history, McAffrey. Trust me, I’ve tried. This Portal is as protective as hell and nothing, no matter how hard you try, will change the past.”

“I don’t want to change the past, man. I want to be part of it.”

Eric’s mouth opened to respond but a voice called from not far away in the trees. “Friend or foe?”

The vampire looked shocked. He obviously wasn’t used to being snuck up on, his usual focus and acute hearing was taken by the conversation. He stared, blinked and sighed. “Highlanders,” he whispered to Cal who’d already pulled his dirk. “Friends,” called Eric and three men, two women and a boy of about twelve slunk from the cover of the woods. Eric bowed elegantly when one of the women gasped.

“I know you, sir,” she whispered as she drew near. “You are Eric, you are well and this pleases me.”

“Lady Mary McAffrey,” said the vampire with a pleasant smile. “I too am pleased to see that you are well.”

Cal glared at Eric and one of the men glared at Eric even harder, then what could have been big trouble was averted. Northman turned to the snorting man and bowed again. “Eric Northman at your service, sir. Your lovely daughter and I met in Iverness some days back. She kindly directed me to the inn, as we were tired from our long journey.”

Mary McAffey blinked then nodded agreement. Cal, acutely aware that this pretty maiden was a distant relative, also recalled Eric’s comment about getting laid the night before. Bile crawled up his throat but his full reaction was sidetracked quickly.

“And who is your lovely friend?” Eric asked. Cal’s eyes moved to the right and indeed, this girl was lovely, hell, lovely beyond words. Her hair was flaxen and pale as the moon, her eyes dark blue and her skin, ah her skin … the color of pale peaches and roses.

“This is my dear friend, Colleen Barclay,” Mary said then lowered her eyes and her voice. “The poor dear has lost her parents. Imprisoned by the Red Coats.”

“Mary!” Her father hissed a reprimand. “Gather your baskets and let’s be on.”

“Where are you going?” Cal asked, still struggling to take his eyes off the radiant Colleen.

“We’re taking supplies and food to the camp. The lassies are along for safety.”

“Safety?” Eric asked, and Cal noticed his lecherous grin, all decorated in handsome tall Northman-ism.

Damn. Mary McAffrey was his great, great, great, something, and obviously the object of the vampire’s full attention. This wasn’t good.

“Aye,” snorted one of the other men. “Can’t be leavin’ the women alone at night.”

Eric nodded and stepped to walk beside Mary who appeared pleased but still a little confused and Cal’s imagination wandered to why that could be. His thought didn’t go far, as Colleen had fallen into step beside him. He could feel her. Her worry, her fear, her sweetness, even her anger at what had happened to her parents. He could also sense her interest … in him. From the corner of his eye he saw her gazing at his profile and hoped it was pleasing to her.

The man continued. “More and more arrests. The Jocobites are closing in. Small groups, mind you, but getting tighter all the same. Have you men been to the camp?”

Cal held his breath, hoping Eric had some story and any man a thousand years old, knew well how to spin a good lie.

“Actually, no,” Northman sighed dramatically. “We joined up with a few men searching for the hellions. Seen a few scrimmages, nothing more. Now we’re planning to officially join the uprising.”

“Where are you from?” asked the young boy, double stepping to catch up with Eric. He looked up admiringly and the mere idea of it made Cal’s stomach turn. But then again, as Eric said earlier, any true warrior is an honorable warrior. Maybe the kid was seeing the honor in Eric?

The vampire sighed. “We’re the traveling sort, come from far. We heard of the trouble brewing and needed to be home, so we sailed from Norway, arrived just a few days ago.”

“Norway?” yipped the kid. “All that way to fight?”

“Wee lad, of course to fight.” Eric’s eyes twinkled.

The kid stuck a thumb into his narrow chest. “I’m going to fight too. Today I’m joining up and I’m going to fight too!”

The group silenced. Cal finally spoke up. “What’s your name, boy?”

“I’m Taran, Taran Barclay and I’m gonna defend my parents, free them!”

Cal took the boy’s arm then glared down at him, speaking as harshly as he could. “Aye, I see, and you’ll walk off and forget to defend and protect your sister?”

“She can’t fight the Red Coats! I can!”

“No, she cannot fight them, she will die at their hands unless you protect her. Your battles are not on the field, young Taran. Yours are right outside your front door.”

The kid visibly melted, slowing his step and falling behind. “I thank you, kind sir,” Colleen sighed softly. “May I know your name?”

Oh-oh. What the hell? He simply said it. “I’m Cal McAffrey.”

“Then you are one of us?” said the older man, his chest puffing out with pride Cal realized he most likely didn’t deserve. Again Eric came to the rescue.

“What grand luck to meet family! Cal here was taken from home long, long ago. We met on the ship and talked of fighting the Red Coat bastards … my apologies, lassies … fighting the English together. He hasn’t seen this beautiful green land since he was a boy, younger than Taran here.”

The men slapped Cal on the back, welcoming a relative home at a time when he was most needed. Two of those men, both McAffreys, were also joining the fight, leaving Mary’s father to protect the women and young Taran. Cal worried for the boy, knowing full well the length of the battle ahead, the outcome, and an estimated number of young boys who had lost their lives at Culloden.

Entering the camp, the mood changed drastically. The men led Mary and Colleen off with the supplies, young Taran stood awe struck, and Eric tugged at Cal’s elbow. “Come, we should find a leader and discover what we can learn.”

But before they got far, they were met by a man carrying the dead body of the brave, chain and ball swinging warrior from the scrimmage. Cal instinctively reached out to help, the bloody pulp was massive and the man was struggling under his weight. Blood covered his arm but Cal didn’t care, didn’t feel squeamish, only wanted to honor a dead man who deserved respect. When finally the man was laid to rest with the bodies of the other fallen warriors, Eric led him away but Cal looked back.

“The kid, I don’t like leaving him alone like that, Eric. He might join up, get lost, hurt, sucked in.”

Eric swung a turn, shooting his ice blue glare into Cal’s eyes. “Ghosts, McAffrey. These are all ghosts. You can’t change what’s happening. Shall we just go back? Forget this whole thing?”

Cal leaned in at the vampire. Eric had an agenda too, and it primarily revolved around having fun, fighting a good fight, getting some sweet blood and a piece of Mary McAfree’s ass … oh … and protecting himself from Biebe’s wrath. Eric could and would put a quick end to the whole adventure if he felt it wasn’t going to be to his benefit any longer. Cal had to think fast.

“Listen, you demented bloodsucker. Maybe you forgot your own humanity, but I haven’t. I’ll be concerned for the kid if I want. Don’t threaten me with going back again. Trust me, there’s a battle ahead you don’t want to miss … and we don’t have much time for you to be teaching me how to fight.”

“What if you get wounded, McAffrey?” snarled Eric.

“Heal me with your blood.”

“What if you get dead?”

Cal swallowed hard. “Turn me or leave me to be buried with the others, I don’t care. But I’m not leaving, damn it. Not now. Maybe … not ever.”

Eric suddenly looked even paler. “No. No, this isn’t our agreement.”

“I know. Let’s play this by ear, okay? Let’s … oh … fuck … fuck …” And Cal felt himself dissolve into another time and place and existence. He was suddenly back in the left tower and for a moment he thought he’d dismember Eric for doing it! But the vampire didn’t do it. Riley did! How did she do that? Did she have some kind of power he didn’t know about?

It didn’t take long, just a few moments of negotiations and the Portal reclaimed him. He released a sigh of relief and looked around at the campfires and milling men. “Fuck,” he whispered. No one seemed to notice his little … trip. No one but Eric.

“Where … how …”

“Riley Beibe. Damn, she just snatched me back and –”

“Shit, it’s finished, we should just call it a day. It’s been real nice, McAffrey.”

“No, wait!” shouted Cal as Eric began pulling him from the camp. “I talked her out of it. She let me come back.”

Eric chuckled. “I’ve met this human. She’s not that easy.”

“I know, trust me. But I explained why I came, told her I was trying to learn something, you know. Trying to be part of something. I even told her I might not come back.”

“And she bought that? I think not.”

“She bought it. Seemed kinda sad about it, but she let me come back.”

“And what about the most important thing? Did you tell her I’m involved?”

“Ah … no … ‘course not.” He shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t remember. “Come on, Eric, let’s get moving, we’re running out of night.”

They located a man by the name of James Garrow who, hearing of their involvement with the earlier scrimmage, immediately put them on night watch. They seemed fresh and most of the camp was ready for sleep. “We’ve a long road behind, and have a longer road ahead,” Garrow yawned. “We’ll be marching tomorrow night, so sleep during the day and be ready. For this night, watch over us, Highlanders. Watch over us well.”

They posted themselves at the perimeter of the camp, up on the rise where they’d first spotted the gathering. Before the moon set on the horizon, Old man McAffrey led Mary and pretty Colleen back toward Iverness and right past them. Thankfully, young Taran was with them, avoiding Cal’s eyes.

“He’ll forgive me someday,” he whispered as Colleen past.

She turned midnight blue eyes on him then reached out and placed a warm hand on his. “I will forever be grateful. Take care, Cal McAffrey. Take care and come home to us.” She leaned in and lightly pecked a kiss on his chin then rushed to catch up with the others.