Domnall (Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 1): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  “’Tis safe now, lass.” It had grown too dark to see what lingered in her eyes, but he felt her worry as if she wore a cloak woven of it. “They’ll no’ find us here.”

  He heard her swallow. “There is no us. I’m not one of you. I’ll go on from here by myself.”

  Whatever doubts about Jenna still lingered in Domnall’s mind, her offer crushed them to dust. Few hardened Pritani warriors would possess such tapachd.

  “You could,” he agreed, cutting another slice for her. “You may reach a village or farm in twoday or three. Aye, if the sky remains clear, and those creatures dinnae track you. If no rogues or thieves find you alone and defenseless. If you dinnae fall into a loch or over a cliff or down a slope. Have you a map, and a destination in mind?”

  She pushed away the second piece of fruit he offered. “I’m not helpless.”

  “You’ve much courage, I’ll grant you, but you’re far from your home. You’ve no memory of yourself or your kin. You ken naught of Scotland. You’d be alone.” He set aside the food and took hold of her cold hand. The instant he did, he felt the ink on his arm grow warm. “Dinnae blame yourself for the attack, Jenna. You didnae summon the Sluath.”

  “But they knew me.” She met his gaze just before the last of the rush lights sputtered out. “They’ll keep looking for me. I can feel it.”

  So could he, and he hated it. “They’ll no’ take you.”

  “You’ve already lost your home because of me. I can’t let you and the others lose everything.” Her shoulders rounded, and she ducked her head. “I’m not worth your lives.”

  Telling her the truth of that might only compound her fears. Now Domnall wondered if he should wake Edane. The archer ever proved far better than he at managing females, and seemed to understand the lass. But as soon as that thought entered his head, he discarded it. He’d found Jenna, he’d taken her away from the tribe, and now he’d help her through this.

  Stretching out beside her, he tugged her down until she lay on her side. “On the morrow, we must ride the day through,” he told her. “I’ll keep you safe, lass. Now close your eyes.”

  She made a small, disgruntled sound. “Does anyone ever say no to you?”

  “Galan, and you.” He felt her shake with a suppressed chuckle, and smiled. “Put your head on my shoulder. Aye, ’tis the way.”

  Jenna remained stiff for a moment, and then finally shifted closer to him. “You said that you and your men were hunters before you landed in the ash grove.”

  Domnall eased his arm around her. “Aye.”

  “Why don’t you ever…” She interrupted herself with a yawn. “…hunt anything?”

  So, she’d noticed that much. “We’ve food enough. When we dinnae, we’ll hunt.”

  Domnall remained awake until he felt her gradually go limp and heard her breathing slow. He’d shared his bed countless times with a willing dru-widess, but they’d never lingered after the facking had ended. Now he would sleep with a female he’d seen naked and wanted more than any he’d ever known, but had not taken. It bemused him, more so than even finding her in the grove.

  Jenna turned to him, her slender arm sliding across his waist. For such a wee lass she generated enough heat to warm him, and the scent of her skin colored every breath he took. This was why the dru-widesses never remained the night. In some ways sleeping together seemed even more intimate than sharing pleasures.

  At his post Mael remained alert and watchful, so Domnall at last closed his eyes. He drifted into the only sleep he’d permit himself, a light doze that any sudden sound would end. His thoughts reshaped the darkness into the glen where they had meant to make camp for the night. There he watched his men go about their tasks, and saw Jenna once more putting out food for their meal. This time he didn’t take his gaze from her as the clouds gathered overhead. He saw her expression after the first shaft of lightning struck, but it was not fearful.

  She looked furious.

  The choked sound she made came from rage as well. She moved her hand to her side, reaching for something when nothing was there. But Domnall knew exactly what she meant to grasp: a blade.

  Light streaked down from the Sluath, moving over Jenna’s taut features. The light, not fear, had made her look so pale. When she next said the only word to pass her lips, she spat it like a curse.

  Sluath.

  Domnall had no doubt at all now that Jenna knew the Sluath, and hated them with all her being. He’d never seen such pure loathing on a female’s face. It matched the fury that rose inside him, then and now, even in the dream.

  She’s mine, the Sluath had said.

  No, Domnall thought, smashing his fist through the illusion. I’d first end her myself.

  The savagery of his dream jolted him awake. Thin gray light filtered through the blind with the arrival of dawn. He looked down to see Jenna watching him.

  “If they take us, and we can’t escape,” she murmured, as if she could see every thought in his head, “I want you to kill me. I don’t know if I can… Just promise me that you will.”

  Domnall had never harmed a single lass in his long life. He couldn’t imagine what would cause him to do so. Females had to be cherished and protected. But somehow, she knew that death would be better than being taken by the Sluath. In his heart, so did he.

  His hand felt heavy as he reached down and tugged his smallest dirk from his boot. The light, thin blade had a finely-honed edge and a point that would part flesh as if it were water.

  “You’re certain?” he asked as he pressed the hilt into her hand. She nodded. “You’ve my word, then.”

  Jenna’s bottom lip trembled, and she slung her arm across his chest as if to embrace him. But instead she quickly rolled over and got to her feet, tucking the dirk in the side of her boot.

  Domnall put the horrific agreement out of his mind as he went to join Mael. “Any sign?”

  The tracker shook his head. “We should graze the mounts while we break our fast.”

  Leading the horses out of the caves and down the incline with Mael, they found a patch of lush grasses and hobbled them there. Kiaran came to keep watch and let his birds hunt for their morning meal, while the other hunters carried out their packs. Jenna emerged last, carrying their refilled waterskins slung over both narrow shoulders.

  Domnall told Kiaran of his intent and the falconer nodded his consent. When they joined the others Broden handed out oatcakes baked with nuts and berries while Edane sliced a wedge of cheese to top them. No one spoke as they ate, but Jenna, he noted, kept as watchful an eye on the horizon as Mael.

  “We cannae remain in these hills,” Domnall finally said. “We’ll go west, to the highlands where we last hunted. The fortress where we sheltered that night may yet stand.”

  “After so long, Overseer?” Edane said, his brows knitted together. “Surely there couldnae be any trace left of us at Dun Chaill.”

  “Why?” Jenna asked, looking from Edane to Domnall. “How long has it been since you went there?”

  “We didnae count the days,” Broden said quickly before Domnall could answer. “What matters the time passed?”

  Jenna shrugged. “I was just curious.” She brushed some crumbs from her trews and stood. “I’ll go help Kiaran with the horses.”

  Once she’d walked away Broden leaned forward. “The lass is a worn bow string, near to snapping. Dinnae set another nock to her.”

  The trapper’s rough compassion didn’t surprise him as much as his perception of Jenna’s fragile emotions.

  “Aye,” Domnall said. “’Twill keep.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Over the next day Jenna paid in full for the scanty amount of sleep she’d gotten in the cave. The hunters rode at a quick, steady lope out of the hills and into a wide valley, stopping only to rest the horses a few times. She managed to keep up, but only just. Somehow, she knew to relax as much as she could, moving her body with the mare to minimize the impact of the jolting gait. From the way her muscles were kno
tting, however, it seemed obvious that she hadn’t been on horseback in a while.

  At midday they reached a river crossing the valley. Domnall held up his fist, and all the hunters slowed and then dismounted. Jenna did the same, wincing as her back and bottom gave her a preview of the considerable pain she could expect tonight. She led the mare to drink at the river’s edge, and then took a good look around at the forests marching up the high slopes on either side of them. Snow whitened the rounded tops of the mountains, but everything else was green and dotted with wildflowers. The air smelled like a dewy garden that had gone wild.

  “’Tis wider now,” she heard Edane say to Kiaran, who walked back and forth along the bank with him. “By half again as much.”

  “What’s wider?” she asked the archer, who started to gesture toward the water and then dropped his hand.

  “An old trail we passed,” he said. “Come, you should walk with me, lass. ’Twill keep your legs from stiffening.”

  And prevent me from asking more questions.

  All day she had ended murmured conversations with just a glance. Normally men of few words, the hunters had become positively tight-lipped. No matter how much they said to her, she sensed an iceberg of what hadn’t been said beneath the surface.

  She accompanied Edane down river, where they stopped to admire a series of short, cascading falls.

  “You don’t have to lie to me, Edane. Just tell me to mind my own business.”

  “I dinnae ken business.” His gaze shifted past her, and then he grinned like a boy. “Gods blind me. ’Tis the pass over there, I’m sure of it. By your leave, lass.”

  Jenna watched him trot back to the other hunters, where he pointed at a break in the ridges on the north side of the valley. It appeared closer than it probably was, and they’d have to keep riding their tired horses at a fast pace to reach it before sunset. As exhausted and stiff as she felt, she wondered if she should ask Domnall to tie her onto the mare.

  You’ve been through so much worse.

  She remembered saying that, but not to who or why or when. Her voice just echoed in a void, as if she’d been talking to herself. She wandered back toward the hunters, and sat down on a flat-topped rock. When Mael brought her a waterskin and what looked like a small bun, she smiled her thanks. Biting into the bread, she got a mouthful of a jellied filling that tasted of honey and spices.

  “Oh.” The delicious shock of it made her eyelashes flutter. “Please tell me you have more of these.”

  “A bag full, aye.” He hefted a small sack. “’Tis made by the dru-widesses for their ritual nights. I reckoned they could make more when they found them gone.”

  The tracker also gave her a piece of smoked fish and a thin wooden cup filled with a cold, minty brew before he sat down at the base of the rock to enjoy his own share. Jenna felt better as soon as she finished the meal, and when she went to wash her sticky fingers in the river her muscles hardly protested.

  “You’ve done well,” Domnall said as he crouched beside her. “I’d stay another hour to give you more rest, but if we’re to reach the fortress by nightfall we cannae linger.”

  “I know.” She looked up at the thin white clouds trailing across the sky before she regarded him. “We’ll have to take cover if there’s another storm.”

  He nodded. “Mael shall keep watch for sheltering we can use along the path. Once we ride through the pass, we’ll be but a league from Dun Chaill.”

  She had no idea how far a league was but hoped it was roughly equivalent to a mile.

  “What is Dun Chaill?”

  “’Tis what the Pritani called the fortress where we sheltered before we became lost.”

  “Does Galan know about this place?” When he shook his head, she felt surprised. “Why didn’t you tell him about it?”

  His jaw tightened. “We never speak of that night.”

  Domnall obviously didn’t want her to ask anything more about it, either. Demanding to know why they were all worried about talking openly in front of her wouldn’t help matters.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  The hours that followed their brief stop proved just as brutal as the morning ride, but Jenna kept pace with the men. The sun had started its final drop toward the horizon as they left the valley and guided the horses into the narrow, rocky pass. There the shadows of the surrounding mountains and the winds pouring through the gap dropped the temperature from pleasant to chilly. Jenna had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering as they slowed their mounts to a careful walk.

  A body-warmed cloak suddenly swaddled her, and she glanced over at Kiaran, who now just had a thin tunic covering his chest.

  “You’ll regret this,” Jenna warned him.

  “I’ve friends to keep me warm,” he said as two kestrels landed on his shoulders. “And you willnae look so bonny with blue lips.”

  Broden rode between them. “Keep up,” he said before he guided his horse in front of hers.

  His new position blocked most of the wind, she discovered, and with the warmth of Kiaran’s cloak her chill quickly dispersed.

  The last of the sunlight vanished as they emerged from the pass, riding into a broad, thick forest that looked even older than the Moss Dapple’s lands. All of the trees around them had grown to enormous sizes, and had the tough, weathered look of enduring countless seasons of sunshine and snow. The moss clinging to their trunks spread down to the forest floor, forming a thick, uninterrupted carpet of mottled green. She didn’t spot a single trail, which suggested that no one had been in these woods for years, maybe even decades.

  An odd relief warmed Jenna as she looked up at the clear sky overhead, glittering with countless stars. She didn’t recognize anything, but the forest felt like home. Could she have come from a place like this? Maybe her people lived near here, or occupied a territory very similar to it.

  The hunters all stopped in the middle of the woods. Domnall also reined in his mount and jumped down, striding forward toward a cluster of trees. He reached between them, and then glanced back.

  “’Tis here,” he called.

  “’Tis grown much,” Mael said, looking around them. Unlike her he seemed worried now.

  Kiaran’s birds glided off to a nearby tree as he swung down and then helped Jenna dismount. “Stay with Mael,” he told her before he went to join the overseer, and they both disappeared into the trees.

  As she walked up to where the tracker stood her gaze caught the first of several unnatural lines running through the woods. Moonlight illuminated a rounded wall encircling a huge oak, and a lower pile of collapsed stones rough with crumbling layers of mortar. Another, more intact wall angled away from it, interrupted by a rectangular void that must have once been a gate or door.

  Following the ruins and filling in the lines of the missing structures, Jenna picked out the shape of a partially-collapsed tower, and two more beyond it. The trees hid a great deal of the outer structure, but her architect’s brain still knew what it was looking at.

  “It’s a castle,” she murmured, and caught Mael’s surprised glance. “Or it was a castle, a long time ago.”

  “’Twas but a small fortress when last we came here,” he said, and surveyed the exposed structures. “I dinnae recall the place as large as ’tis now.”

  Edane brought some branches he’d gathered, and with Mael’s help fashioned them into torches. He handed one to Jenna. “Best stay here while we’ve a look, lass.”

  “So the Sluath can swoop down and grab me while you’re gone?” She shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Drenched in sweat and yet feeling as if he’d been embraced by the Gods themselves, Galan rode back to the settlement. He had to stop several times along the way to rest, but he attributed the weakness he felt to the shock of the encounter with the Sluath.

  The legends had not been outlandish tales. The demons were real. The fact that they pursued the Mag Raith said much of how the hunters
might have resurrected and acquired their special gifts.

  And how I shall acquire mine.

  Once he reached the river, he dismounted and led his horse through the water illusions and into the tunnel passage through the falls. Aside from the exhaustion, he felt as he had in his first incarnation. In that life he had grown powerful and respected, a spell-caster of such promise the tribe had whispered of his being summoned to join the conclave. This night that old sense of coming glory returned to him.

  He had challenged the most astonishing creatures in existence, the very stuff of legends, and had brought them under his sway.

  Before this night the Sluath had only ever been ridiculous tales uttered by scolding mothers and superstitious elders. Now with his own eyes he had looked upon the cold, beautiful beings and realized the truth. No mortal or druid kind would have survived such a happenstance to tell this tale—and yet he had. He had bargained with demons from the underworld, and now his one and only desire lay within his reach.

  Fiana. For so long her name had been a curse upon his heart. Now it became his every dream again. I shall soon have you in my arms once more.

  As Galan emerged from the passage, he dismounted and saw no one. For the first time in centuries the entrance to the enchanted forest stood unguarded. Only a pair of torches burned above mounds of flowers placed on either side of the tunnel. Another insult, for he knew it had not been prepared for his return. The Moss Dapple had paid tribute again to those facking Pritani. Well, at least it would be the last time.

  As disrespectful as it was, it relieved him to see none of the tribe standing in homage. Doubtless they had gathered around the evening meal fire and made some ridiculous offering ritual to beseech the Gods. Fair journey for the Mag Raith and that slut.

  Fair likely not, but short it would be, straight from their abandonment of the tribe into the merciless clutches of the Sluath.

  The turn of events had been a perilous one, but nothing could have made him happier. He would ask to watch as they were slain by their demon masters. He particularly wished to see their claws reduce Domnall mag Raith to a screaming, writhing pile of torn flesh. Then, after Iolar resurrected Fiana, Galan would wheedle from the Sluath the secret of immortality. Perhaps he’d even promise them his idiot tribe in exchange.