Avenged by a Highland Laird

by Sky Purington

  When his eyes went to Jessie, she nodded in reassurance and spoke within his mind. “Go, Bryce. Help make history.”

  Confident that she would be all right, he nodded, grabbed more arrows, and leapt onto the English ship. Ever the berserker, Graham laughed as he ran his sword straight through a man’s neck then kicked another overboard. Adlin and Conall had already leapt onto another ship and were grinning like madmen as they fought.

  Bryce chuckled and shook his head before he whipped a dagger into one man’s gut before he notched an arrow and took another Sassenach down as he tried to sneak up behind Angus. The captain nodded his thanks as he resumed battling.

  Wasting no time, Bryce pulled his dagger free from the man’s gut then punched him so hard he stumbled back and cracked his head open on the deck. Always aware of what was happening around him, he set aside his bow and fought by sword for a bit, dropping three more Sassenach before he glanced back at Angus’ ship. He couldn’t help a small grin. As far as he could tell Christina wasn’t letting her friends battle at all. Instead, she took down any enemy the minute they set foot on the boat.

  Well satisfied with Jessie’s safety, he grabbed his bow, leapt a few more ships and joined Sven and Aðísla who were thoroughly in their element and enjoying themselves. Sven was a particularly vicious fighter who tended to have men scrambling away from him in fear rather than battling. This, it seemed, pleased him greatly as he let them wait in the wings while he engaged others. That, naturally, only intensified the terror of those who knew their turn was coming.

  Bryce got the sense Sven used his fighting as an outlet for deeply rooted feelings that were bothering him, be it kin or something more. If he were to guess, he would say a lass was at the heart of it.

  Emily, to be precise.

  Bryce fought alongside the Vikings for a time, sometimes choosing to use his sword, other times simply punching or kicking. All the while, he continued shooting arrows and taking down men. One after another after another until there were no more to face off with.

  By that time it was clear history was going precisely as it should as the vast majority of Sassenach had fallen. Three ships heavy with supplies for the depleted English army were now under the MacDonald’s control. Some ships had fled, but as Bryce very well knew, Angus’ galleys would soon drive those ashore to be wrecked on the Northumbrian cliffs. Other less seaworthy ships would be lost at sea in severe gales.

  Everything seemed to be going just as it should. That is until the unthinkable happened.

  Almost.

  A furious Sassenach who knew his time was coming to an end, managed to get off one last arrow. An arrow, as it turned out, that nearly landed in the center of Angus’ forehead if Bryce hadn’t acted quickly and shot off his own.

  Not only was his arrow pinpoint accurate and intercepted the other but Jessie, just as quick, redirected the arrow so that it landed in the enemy’s forehead instead.

  “Bloody hell!” Angus swore before he flung back his head and roared with laughter.

  Bryce and Jessie locked eyes and smiled from across two ships before the unmistakable pull of time-travel swept around him. Though he tried to get to her first, it was too late. The deck dropped out from beneath him, colors swirled, and oxygen grew sparse.

  Moments later, he landed in a most unfavorable position.

  “Och,” he muttered as he slid past trees down a rain-slicked muddy hill straight toward what looked to be a cliff. Seconds later, he learned that was precisely what it was as he tried to stop but ended up sliding to the end, teetered then tumbled right over. Worse than that? He couldn’t seem to shift but fell toward dangerously jagged rocks from a distance far greater than he anticipated.

  Seconds later, thank the gods, Sven’s dragon caught him.

  Though grateful, he muttered at the indignity of being carried by another dragon. Especially a male. Bryce continued grumbling as Sven landed and he got off, even more mortified to find he had an audience. Sven, likely well aware of Bryce’s state of mind, was gracious enough to act as though nothing embarrassing had just happened as everyone joined them.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jessie exclaimed as she flung her arms around Bryce and pressed her cheek against his chest. All his aggravation fled as she trembled and he realized how much that had scared her.

  “I’m fine.” He finally did the right thing and nodded his thanks to Sven as he held Jessie.

  “Bloody hell.” Graham shook his head and eyed the cliff Bryce just went over. “You really do have awful luck when traveling through time, Cousin.”

  “Aye,” Bryce murmured.

  It seemed they were not going to witness King Edward’s infamous anger at King Robert after all. Because days later, Angus would sail those three English ships laden with foodstuffs right past Edward in Edinburgh, and up the forth to Culross. There they would unload their contents to the Scottish Army which was reported to number around twenty-five thousand.

  At least Bryce and his kin had the satisfaction of knowing they had helped make that happen.

  “We should tell everyone what’s going on,” Jessie said softly as she pulled back.

  Her fear over his safety had turned to renewed anger at the warlock and his influence over Bryce’s time-traveling. She wanted to tell everyone about his connection to Bryce, and he couldn’t agree more. So he nodded as he brushed a tear from her cheek. It seemed he had indeed terrified her with yet another near death experience.

  “Oh, my darn emotions,” she muttered under her breath as she rubbed her eyes, removed the last of the moisture then proceeded to fill everybody in on what was going on with the warlock.

  Adlin sighed as he considered that. “I can see why they left this warlock for last then.”

  Jessie nodded. “It was a clever move.”

  “Aye,” Adlin murmured. “A true test of love if ever there was one.”

  Bryce narrowed his eyes, wondering precisely what Adlin was getting at. “Hasn’t this entire journey been that one way or another?” His eyes swept over the others. “For us all on our adventures.”

  Adlin nodded. “Aye, but some tests are more difficult than others and none, I suspect, as hard as what you and Jessie still face.”

  “We’re ready for it, though,” she replied as her eyes went from Bryce to Adlin. “Though my ring doesn’t shine yet, we love each other very much.”

  Bryce nodded, in full agreement. It might have happened fast, but it was absolutely true. “I know it’s only been days, but we feel verra strongly.” He squeezed her hand. “Mayhap not just because of the time spent together now but because I’m beginning to remember parts of her life...parts that the warlock remembers.” He scowled. “In truth, parts that are actually mine to remember.”

  “Aye,” Adlin said softly, a touch of worry and sadness in his eyes as they met Jessie’s. “If ‘tis as you say and this warlock took a piece of Bryce’s soul or essence before he was ever born, then ‘tis verra much Bryce himself though not whole, right?”

  “That’s right,” she said, clearly glad that he understood the dynamics so well. “And that’s what I explained to Bryce.”

  Adlin nodded slowly. “Lass, has it ever occurred to you that the love you feel for Bryce can only ever be in its entirety when a true MacLomain, Broun connection is made?”

  “Yes, of course.” She nodded. “And I do.” Her eyes went from Bryce back to Adlin. “I love all of him with all my heart.”

  “All of him,” Adlin said gently. “Is not standing right here, Jessie.”

  Bryce felt her flare of distress at that. “But he will be once the warlock is defeated.”

  “Will he?” Adlin’s brow furrowed in uncertainty though his voice remained gentle. “Because if this warlock does indeed possess a part of Bryce then ‘twill be Bryce himself that you must kill in the end. After all, you cannae truly be in love with Bryce without loving the warlock and vice versa.” He shook his head. “Because they are deeply interconnected if not on
e and the same.”

  Silence settled as Jessie blinked, swallowed hard and shook her head as she clearly tried to wrap her mind around that.

  “I suspect love has as it sometimes can, blinded you to this fact,” Adlin murmured. “Though on some level, you were always aware of it, weren’t you?” His eyes flared light blue as his magic ignited. “You often saw Bryce in the warlock. Not just his soul but his appearance.”

  Jessie pressed her lips together and nodded once.

  “’Tis a verra difficult thing.” Adlin closed the distance and took her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yet ‘tis something you will have to face.” His eyes flickered from Bryce to her. “Both of you.” He squeezed her hand. “But you will be together, and in that, you will find unparalleled strength. Not just you but Bryce. And ‘tis in that, your mutual strength and a love so strong you’re willing to let it go, that I believe you’ll find freedom.”

  Though Adlin could be as cryptic as Grant, the gist of his words was more than apparent. This warlock might mean Bryce’s death, but they had to face it to see what was on the other side for them. It was the only way. And they had to trust in that to find out if their love would survive...if it was truly meant to be.

  Jessie blinked away moisture, stood up straighter and nodded. “I have not quit being strong since I was ten years old and I don’t intend to start now.” Her eyes went to Bryce. “I’m more than willing to go to Hell and back if that’s what it takes.” She flinched. “And I’m not speaking figuratively.”

  “Aye, lass,” he said as their gazes lingered. “We’ll fight together until the end.”

  “A good ending,” Christina declared. “One you won’t be facing alone because I’ll be damned if we’re not all there helping you.”

  Everyone agreed, and they meant it. They had all come too far not to stick together now.

  Ready to seek shelter and food, they headed into the woods under Aðísla’s direction. It seemed she sensed a more discreet location where they could make camp for the night and perhaps wash off the blood of battle.

  Though they couldn’t be entirely sure where they were, Adlin felt confident it was close to where they should be. That meant it was a little over two months after the sea battle and they now stood in Northern England. On that note, he remained hopeful Grant might already be here aiding Robert the Bruce.

  As it happened, they settled for the evening under a massive slab of rock which Jessie felt would help protect them from the warlock. Not only that but it better insulated them against the damp chill of autumn. There was a small pond nearby that suited their needs, and within a few hours, they were clean, roasting game and sitting around a fire. Though they had no change of clothes, they used a wee bit of magic to clean their current clothing well enough.

  Aðísla had volunteered to keep first watch and was somewhere out in the darkness.

  “You know what I keep wondering,” Milly remarked as her eyes met Jessie’s. “How come the warlocks have a Scottish accent? I get why the one with a piece of Bryce would but not the others.”

  Jessie shook her head. “I’m afraid I have no explanation for that and always found it strange considering my grandfather created the curse and he was so opposed to Scotland.” She frowned. “Or should I say angry at all things Scottish.”

  When she clenched her hands together on her lap, Bryce knew she was thinking about her little notebook. It was officially gone. Left behind on Angus’ ship.

  “’Tis okay,” he said into her mind as he rested his hand over hers. “Though you might not have the book now, you possess strong dragon magic as well as Ma’s magic.” He squeezed her hand. “Not to mention me. All of us for that matter. A family unlike any other who will always stand by your side and fight for all they’re worth.”

  A grateful glint lit her eyes as she nodded.

  “Your grandfather was opposed to Scotland because of your grandmother’s death, aye?” Adlin murmured, his eyes on Jessie as he drew them back into the original conversation. “And she died giving birth to your mother?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “After that Grandfather hated all things Scottish presumably because it reminded him of the woman he lost. Or so my mother surmised.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve always thought it went deeper though. That there was a bigger picture.”

  Adlin pondered that. “The enormity of what he did certainly implies such.”

  Jessie nodded.

  “’Tis your mother’s side you inherit your Broun blood from aye?” Adlin said.

  “Yes.” She seemed surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “I might seem off my game lately with certain things, but my magic has indeed grown stronger since I came together with Milly.” He squeezed Milly’s hand, love blazing in his eyes as he looked at her before focusing on Jessie again. “I can sense your mother’s Broun blood in you as I can sense what must be your father’s blood.” His eyes narrowed. “A bloodline I couldnae sense before you and Bryce came together. ‘Twas well masked and even still verra hard to see.”

  “That must be because of the warlock,” Jessie replied.

  “Aye, mayhap in part to be sure.”

  “In part?”

  He nodded as he kept giving it some thought. “I think I know how you might be able to get more answers about your grandfather’s anger toward Scotland.”

  Jessie cocked her head. “How?”

  “Well, I’ve been observing your connection to the spirit realm and ‘tis far stronger than mine or even Grant’s,” he replied. “Where we can see ghosts more clearly and communicate with them, I think your magic attracts them.” His voice softened. “I think, in a way, like you do with the warlocks, you can control them...which means you can summon them.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “You can’t mean for me to summon my grandfather.” She shook her head. “Because I absolutely will not.”

  “Not your grandfather,” he said gently. “I would never ask that of you, lass.” He looked at her in question. “But mayhap your grandmother. She who is at the root of all this.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  12 October 1322

  Northallerton, England

  JESSIE WASN’T SURE what to make of Adlin’s suggestion. She had never purposefully summoned a spirit before and wasn’t sure she wanted to now. Yet she understood the logic behind it. Perhaps even the necessity.

  “What if my grandfather shows up?” she whispered aloud without meaning to. She frowned, embarrassed that she was still so terrified of the man. That he still had that kind of power over her.

  “We will all be right here with you.” Adlin’s eyes never left hers. “And though I’m not as strong as you in that realm, I can use my magic there and will protect you, lass.”

  “As will I,” came a soft voice before Grant appeared out of the night. He nodded hello to everyone before he sat next to her and met her eyes. “We willnae leave your side lass. Not for a moment.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Grant,” she whispered, truly grateful he had arrived.

  “Aye, you too, lass.” His eyes swept over everyone as a small smile came to his lips. “All of you.”

  “How fares good King Robert the Bruce then?” Adlin asked, evidently already having been in touch with Grant telepathically.

  “In position,” Grant replied. “Though it’s taken some subliminal nudging here and there to make sure his battle plans move in the right direction.”

  “Aye, then.” Adlin nodded. “’Tis important things go as they should.”

  “I was given something that belongs to you, lass,” Grant murmured as he pulled out none other than her little book. “Laird Angus MacDonald said ‘twas yours and you should have it back.”

  Jessie smiled, her eyes flickering to Bryce as she nodded. Bryce returned her smile and said, “He’s a good man. ‘Twas kind of him to see it returned.”

  “Aye,” Grant said. “He told Robert all about your battle with the English and how Bryce saved
his life.” He winked at Bryce. “I would say that’s why you all got to enjoy that particular part of history. ‘Twould have been no good if the MacDonald chieftain had died.” His eyes roamed over those who had traveled on the first leg of the journey. “Adlin caught me up on what happened in Pentland Firth. ‘Twas remarkable and I’m verra proud of you.”

  “It was definitely something,” Jessie murmured as she offered Bryce a small smile. “And Bryce didn’t just save Angus once in the battle against the English but twice.”

  Bryce grinned and shrugged. “He was a prime target to be sure.”

  “As to the book,” Grant said, redirecting their attention. “Might you use it to help summon your grandmother, Jessie?”

  A shiver of unfounded apprehension rippled through her. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I’ve seen her picture, so I know what she looks like.”

  She knew full well the book wouldn’t attract her grandfather in the spirit realm because she’d been using it this whole time. So maybe this was the best possible way to go about things.

  Grant nodded and met her eyes as if he followed those thoughts. “I think if we can speak with your grandmother than we can better understand your grandfather’s motives, aye? And that might make all the difference when fighting this last warlock.”

  She nodded in agreement. He was right.

  When her eyes went to Bryce again, he nodded as well and said, “I’ll stay by your side, lass. I willnae let anything happen to you.”

  While his intentions were sweet and certainly noble, she knew full well that even he couldn’t stop what might come at her. The spirit realm wasn’t exactly notable for its stability. Yet she knew she had to do this. She was the only one who could, so she should. Because as Grant and Adlin said, she might very well learn information that would help them destroy the warlock. And that would mean saving Scotland once and for all.