Highland Dragon (25 page)

Terrified by his words, Akira summoned every morsel of strength within her. She caressed her stomach and asked God to protect her and her child.

“Please, ye cannae leave us here,” Catriona pleaded and reached out to him, but Darach vanished into the pitch just as the wooden door crashed against the rock wall.

Laird Kinnon reared his ugly head beneath the archway, half his face cast in shadows. With his presence came an icy blast of cold that filled the hollows of the cavern, and chilled Akira straight to her core.

The blood in Calin’s veins had flowed hot and fervent during the time it took him to reach Kinnon soil. He’d lost at least three hours because those bastards burned the bridge. But he was here now, standing knee-deep in seawater at the threshold of the cavern entrance, and he feared his limbs might combust from anticipation. The path ahead of him was as dark and heinous as Laird Kinnon’s own soul, and the cold hilt of his broadsword offered him little comfort. His wife and unborn child were somewhere within The Beast’s lair, and not even the deep-seated foreboding slithering in his gut could prevent him from finding her.

Calin prayed Laird Kinnon kept Akira alive. He could only hope the bastard wanted her for some belief in her powers, and not because she was married to the man about to wage war against him. The thought that Laird Kinnon might unknowingly rape his own daughter was a possibility he couldn’t ignore. He pressed both palms against his eyes, fighting off the image that burrowed into his mind like a thousand rodents.

His entire future rested in the hands of the man who murdered his father.

Peering over his shoulder, Calin cooled with pride. Twelve of his warriors merged with twelve more of the Kinnon rebels. Kendrick stood at his side, awaiting his command. Calin no longer fought for an alliance. Kendrick provided him with that. This battle was for the woman he loved.

Inhaling deeply, Calin gave a quick nod to Kendrick and led his warriors into the dungeon of Brycen Castle. A chain of linked men followed him as he groped his way over the jagged slick walls into pitch-blackness. The air was wet, and the vapors of death grew stronger the further they slinked into the grotto.

Soon, a low-burning pitch torch came into vision. Only two sentries guarded the prisoners. Calin held up his fingers and pointed to two stealthy warriors. The sentries hit the floor only seconds later, after which, twenty more members of the rebellion were freed from their chains.

“Find her.” Calin gave the order and the search for Akira ensued.

In hushed tones, Calin conversed with Kendrick. “I dinnae like this.”

“Too easy. Too quiet,” Kendrick agreed.

“We’ve met little resistance. I cannae help but feel like I’m walking into a trap.”

Kendrick shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhap God is on our side.”

“God does not follow men into war. ’Tis the devil’s occupation.”

A prisoner, hollow-eyed and haggard with his hands still bound by shackles, hobbled to Calin. “Your men search for just one lass, but there were two. Kinnon’s mercenaries escorted both lassies out o’ the dungeon a couple hours ago. Just a short time later, Kinnon’s men left their post on the western crag and swarmed through here like a band o’ demons, leaving only the two sentries behind.”

The slick blood drippings beneath the wooden table in the torture chamber hypnotized Calin while the man conveyed the information. Calin closed his eyes. “Were they weel? The women?”

“I dinnae see them, but I heard one lass offering comfort to the other. The one that puckered my arse when the guards tortured her. A real screamer that one.”

Calin’s arm went into spasm. A guttural scream rose in his throat, but held tight between his lips. He would tear the bastards’ limbs from their bodies for touching his wife.

“I cannae be certain, but I believe another came. Mayhap a gillie,” the man continued while Jaime freed him of his shackles. “The voice was low and soft-spoken. Whoever he was, he came and went freely just before the laird took the women away.”

Kendrick clasped Calin’s forearm. “Akira’s alive. ’Tis all that matters right now.”

May Saint Margaret protect ye, my sweet Akira, and keep ye and our child safe.
Calin checked his emotions, and then ordered two men to lead the weaker prisoners out of the cavern. The others awaited his order.

He had to find her, but walking into the belly of this fortress would be certain death to him and his men.

“I will take ye to them.” The words spoken behind him were followed by the hissing sound of unsheathed swords.

Calin whirled around to find a small man standing at attention behind the threat of three swords. His hands were poised in front of him, and his chin rose, giving the warriors further access to his throat.

“Put down your weapons. He is unarmed,” Calin ordered.

Kendrick circled the man, his narrowed eyes studied him. Pushing back the hood hiding his face, Kendrick didn’t so much as wince at the man’s scarred appearance. “Who are ye?”

“Who I am is of nay import.” He returned the hood over his head and nodded at Calin. “Follow me if ye wish to see the women.” He turned and blended into the darkness.

Every warrior instinct inside Calin warned him not to follow this mysterious man alone. He would die acting reckless, making fool-hearted decisions.

So be it.

Calin quickly located the man’s heels and followed him through a maze of hidden walls leading to the council chamber. The memory of the night he traveled the same path invaded his mind. The night The Beast stole his father from him. The night his soul found its mate. A cowardice child then, hiding in fear. But that boy no longer existed. A man had taken his place. A shadow who skulked through musky walls armed with a broadsword in one hand, a
sgian dubh
in the other, and a garrison of over five hundred warriors awaiting his signal.

His footsteps were muted when they rounded the bend. Then he heard her voice. Muffled by the wall, but her words sounded like a sweet lullaby in his ears. Akira spoke a mixture of languages garbled into words he didn’t comprehend. Then came silence. Just as he pressed forward, another voice came to his ears. A voice he recognized as well—Catriona.

A manifold of questions overwhelmed him, but he gave them no heed and squeezed through the hollow wall. His guide stopped in front of him and pointed to a small slit in the wall which gave Calin a bird’s-eye picture of the chamber. His gaze fell upon his wife and his heart pounded wanting to go to her, to touch her and take her away from this evil place.

She stood with her arms splayed out beside her, palm ups as if in prayer. Though pale, not a mar touched her beautiful skin. He followed her line of sight to Catriona, on her knees, wearing a tattered blood-stained chemise. There was no mistaking who’d been tortured. Accompanied by ten warriors, Laird Kinnon stood nearby wearing the same contemptuous scowl he’d worn the night he’d murdered Da. Sweat spilled over Calin’s forehead.

His feet itched to run into the chamber and battle all of them, but the warrior and leader inside him kept his body in check. He would not survive such a foolish attempt and then Akira’s fate would be sealed. He had to be patient.

Akira mumbled—a strange humming noise came from deep within her throat. What was she doing with her arms? Her head rolled atop her shoulders and her lids fell shut. Then with a jerk, her body stiffened, and her eyes flew open. The hair lifted on Calin’s arms, and his body gave a quick shudder.

“Hear me, Guardian of the Night. I offer ye an unholy host as a sacrifice, if ye grant me your visions,” Akira chanted in Gaelic, pausing to inhale deeply, as if her words stole her life source. “Hear me, Guardian of the Night, so I might free m’laird from the plight of the savages who hunt him. Show me the way of the warriors. Speak now through the unholy host.” The last of her words came out as a bellow. With her arms raised high above her head and shaking violently, Akira chanted out the open window in the direction of the black sea. The incantation changed to the language only Akira understood, but at that precise moment her arms jolted and Catriona’s chest and head snapped up as if a serpent just crawled through her body.

Calin was riveted.

Catriona’s eyes were glazed over and wide when she responded. “They come by vessel…up the mouth of the firth…hundreds. The MacLeod leads the first boat…there is an order.”

Hell and damnation! Calin’s pulse became erratic. He crossed himself.
Akira is a witch?
Paralyzed, he could only watch, unable to tear his eyes away from the exhibition before him.

Akira’s body convulsed. Her lips moved as if in conversation, but no words emerged.

Laird Kinnon appeared transfixed on the scene as well. The warriors aligning the wall stood at loyal attention, but even they were wide eyed.

“Kendrick, ye take the members o’ the rebellion and scale the cliff.” Catriona’s voice changed tones. A perfect mimic of Calin’s deep Highland burr. “The MacLeods will travel on foot. With the saints to guide us, we will meet inside the stable at the blackest hour afore dawn.”

Akira pressed a hand to her breast and breathed heavily through her mouth, then turned to Laird Kinnon. “I’ll need the blood of six swine, a garland of woodbine, the urine of a barren woman, and the bones of a rotting corpse. All this must be boiled in a cauldron for the remainder of eventide and given to the host just afore the moon crosses the sea at dawn. My host’s body will need fed and rested before she is able to accept the vision from my Guardian. At dawn ye will see the slaughter of your enemy. The MacLeod is a fool to attack on Hallow E’en. The barriers are thin and the souls of the dead can only strengthen the Guardian from dawn to dusk on the morrow.”

“Ye’ve done weel, my pet.” Laird Kinnon grinned and brushed Akira’s hair with the palm of his hand. He moved past her shoulder to give orders to his warriors.

Calin studied the scene, his heart still pounding in his ears. Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Akira’s lips lift ever so slightly then she winked at Catriona. Though Catriona still appeared to be under some sort of trance, she returned the gesture just before she wailed out and collapsed onto the stone floor.

Unable to speak for fear he’d give away his presence, Calin silently ordered his guide to return to the dungeon. Once inside the safety of the grotto, Calin turned to Kendrick, a smile as broad as the day of his wedding crossed his face. “My lady wife is a witch.”

“’Tis blasphemy!” Kendrick scolded in a harsh whisper and drew his
sgian dubh.
“Akira is not a witch, and ye weel know it.”

“I know it. Ye know it, but The Beast is in the palm of her wicked lil’ hand.”

Kendrick’s scowl deepened in confusion. A dozen warriors drew a circle around them while the small mysterious man weaved his way to stand between Calin and Kendrick. “She is safe for now, but ye must prepare your warriors.”

“I demand to know who are ye?” Kendrick asked with the tip on his
sgian dubh
pointed at the man’s nose.

“The laird’s son.”

“Darach?” Kendrick lowered his blade at the same time the collected warriors unsheathed theirs. Calin held up his hand, ordering both his men and Kendrick’s to withdraw their weapons. This man-boy posed no threat to them. A summer breeze would knock him down, and he’d already proven his desire to aid them. He certainly didn’t look to be the demon Akira had painted him to be.

“Why would ye help us?” Kendrick asked and exchanged a leery glance with Calin. “Do ye not know we’ve come to destroy Laird Kinnon and steal the verra title he has secured for ye?”

“The chieftainship of Clan Kinnon has never been mine to want. Laird Kinnon has taken every opportunity to tell me I am but a pawn. I am not of his blood, but the son of a whore he murdered after my birth.”

Darach’s words were fact, but Calin was surprised nonetheless to hear the Kinnon’s named heir voice them aloud. However, he had no desire to waste time listening to these two men quibble over a title that didn’t belong to either of them. The chieftainship of Clan Kinnon belonged to his wife. He should have trusted her with the truth long ago.

“I can help ye,” Darach said after a long moment of silence.

“And what do ye ask in return for your aid?” Kendrick questioned, obvious distrust riddled his tone.

“Freedom. A cottage, mayhap, on Kinnon soil. My needs are few, but I will fight alongside ye both to rid Dalkirth of that monster.”

The warriors in their company didn’t hide their amusement. Glances were exchanged and a mockery of quiet snickers circled around them. Kendrick snorted. “Ye are nay bigger than a whelp. Can ye even wield a sword?”

“Nay.” Darach cast his haunted eyes downward. “But I am invisible to the laird and can move freely within these walls. The warriors who guard your women pay me nay heed. If it is your wish to deliver a message, then it is done.”

“’Tis a fair trade in my way o’ thinking. Loyalty for land.” Calin decided and already contemplated what words he would send to his wife. “Come. We must make haste.”

“Your blood boils, soothsayer, an’ I grow weary o’ this nigh’,” Laird Kinnon slurred, his burr thick with spirits.

He staggered to his feet and threaded his greasy fingers through Akira’s long locks, causing her stomach to rebel even more than it already did. When she closed her eyes to stave off another bout of nausea, all she could feel were his repugnant hands. The same hands that raped her mother and Neala, and killed Papa. She would be strong for her family’s sake and the child she carried. She had no choice in the matter.

But her time ran thin. Dawn would be upon them soon, and she’d already finagled the night hours from Laird Kinnon. The Beast bought into her ploy about having to prepare Catriona for the offering to her Guardian and sent two maids shortly before dawn to bathe and dress her. Darach had returned as promised, slipping into the chamber from behind a wall that yielded no door. When he pressed the MacLeod brooch into her hand as proof of her husband’s presence, she’d wanted to weep with relief. Knowing Calin was within the walls of Brycen Castle gave her courage.

She hoped to be back in her husband’s arms, and shielded by his protection soon. But for now, she would abide the company of The Beast and continue to play her ruse. She offered Laird Kinnon her evilest grin, and stirred her cauldron of bones, blood, and urine inside the scullery while an old orange cat slinked around her ankles. Portraying the role of a witch on the eve of Samhain unnerved her. Silently, she prayed for God to forgive her acts and hoped He could hear her thoughts over the blasphemous words she would soon speak.