by Donna Grant
The pain grew to such a degree, he could feel his heartbeat begin to slow. Stefan’s wrath doubled, his rage expanded until it exploded within him.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on a floor of stones. Stefan rose up on his arm and looked around for Ilinca so he could kill the gypsy witch.
Except there was nothing but darkness and silence.
The silence was eerie and the dark was cold, malicious.
He managed to get to his knees before he grew dizzy. He fell forward onto his hands and took huge gulps of breath.
“You’re here, Stefan Kennedy, because you are empty inside,” said a female voice all around him, crackling with age. “For that I curse you. You will be locked in this place until you get the chance to control your rage. If you fail, you’ll spend eternity here.”
Stefan sat back on his haunches with his hands on his thighs. It looked like he would never get out of whatever hell the old gypsy had put him in.
That thought only made his fury grow.
He got to his feet and felt…nothing. There wasn’t even a stirring of air. No cold, no heat, no sound, and definitely no light. He wasn’t thirsty or hungry or tired.
What he was, however, was totally and completely alone.
Stefan knew that feeling well. It hadn’t been around in a decade, but it was familiar nonetheless. It had remained his constant companion after his mother had died, right up until Ronan, Morcant, and Daman befriended him.
Where were his friends? Ronan and Morcant had disappeared in front of him. Did that mean Ilinca cursed them, as well? Could they be in this same prison?
Stefan grunted. “No’ likely.”
Ilinca wouldn’t be so kind as to put all four of them in the same place, not where they might find each other. As for Daman, Stefan knew his friend was most likely cursed, as well.
Something snapped inside Stefan. It was the part of him that his friends kept in check, the part that fell away after his mother had died.
This time he knew it was gone for good, and he welcomed the anger as he began to plan how he would kill Ilinca.
CHAPTER ONE
Highlands, 1609
Morvan exited her home and looked to the morning sky as she stretched. There was a nip in the air, a hint that autumn would soon arrive. She surveyed the wooded landscape around her and sighed with pleasure. There was nowhere else she would rather live. The trees helped to cut the wind during the harsh winters, but that’s not why she preferred the forest.
Some called her magical.
Others called her cursed.
All Morvan knew, was that the forest was her home. She understood the plants and animals. If that made her cursed, then she would gladly accept the mantle.
She combed her fingers through her hair to push the heavy length out of her face, then quickly plaited it and tied it off with a strip of leather.
“What is in store for me today?” she asked, her steps light and eager as she walked the short distance to the loch.
The mountain was steep in places and the rocks many as she made her way down to the water. She stopped just before she left the trees when she saw a herd of red deer drinking on the opposite bank of the narrow strip of water.
Morvan waited, taking in the sight of the impressive herd. They knew her scent, but she didn’t want to intrude. It wasn’t until the last of them had had their fill and trotted away that she continued to the loch.
She sat against a grouping of rocks and pulled an oatcake out of her pocket. It was rare for her not to be at the loch first thing in the morning. As she ate her breakfast, Morvan contemplated the day.
Normally, there was a set area she would walk looking for animals that were in need of healing. Though the village thought her touched, there were those who didn’t hesitate to ask for her skills if one of their animals were sick.
The day before had been spent at the miller’s tending to the injured hoof of one of his sheep. Perhaps it was that she had been kept from the woods by helping the miller that she felt the need to just wander the forest and see what she could find.
With the oatcake finished, Morvan dusted off her hands and got to her feet. She turned to the right and began walking. As soon as she stepped back into the woods, a shiver ran down her spine. She halted instantly. The forest had been her home all her life, and not once had she ever felt such…foreboding. As if fate were warning her that something was coming.
Or was already there.
Morvan touched the nearest tree, a tall evergreen. The bark scraped her palm and pine needles crunched beneath her feet. The smell of pine permeated the air.
“What is it?” she asked the tree.
She didn’t expect an answer, but since she lived alone, she found it better to talk to the plants and animals rather than not talk at all.
Morvan took a deep breath as the music of the forest assaulted her. The wind whistling through the leaves, the creak of the limbs, the sweet songs of birds. Every animal, every plant contributed to the beautiful music.
When Morvan was just a child, she’d discovered that she was the only one who could hear the melody. She let her hand trail down the trunk of the tree as she lifted her foot and took a step. Then another, and another.
There wasn’t another chill, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. It didn’t make her turn around though. Morvan didn’t turn away from anything or anyone. She slowly walked through the forest, stopping every now and again to admire a bird or flower.
It didn’t take long for her to relax as the tranquility of the woods seeped into her. She lost herself in the forest. She was spellbound by the serenity, enthralled by the peacefulness.
Morvan suddenly stopped and looked around. She knew every inch of the woods – especially the boundary between the MacKay’s lands and those of clan Sinclair that she was never to cross.
How then had she crossed the border?
With her heart pounding, Morvan hastily glanced around to make sure no one was hiding in the foliage. She took a tentative step back, appalled to realize she was much farther onto Sinclair land than she’d first thought.
Morvan swallowed nervously. Tensions between the Sinclairs and her clan, the MacKays, were high, especially after a recent skirmish. The last time she was in the village near the keep, she’d heard that there was trouble within the castle. The new laird, Alistair, was bent on peace while his younger brother Donald, still upset over not becoming laird, wanted war.
She didn’t want to be responsible for starting the war simply because she’d crossed the boundary by accident. It was so stupid of her. She knew better. No matter how many times she gave herself up to the woods, she had never ventured off her clan’s land. Ever.
From the moment she’d woken that morning, she’d felt as if there were something particularly different about the day, something not quite normal. Morvan hadn’t questioned it further though, and that’s apparently where she went wrong. She should’ve remained in her cottage.
Morvan spun around and walked back toward her clan’s land as fast and quietly as she could. She didn’t know this side of the forest like she did her own, and it complicated things. Twice, she had to retrace her steps and take a different route. Sweat beaded her forehead as she lifted her skirts to free her legs in an attempt to move faster.
It was a distressed bleating that brought her to a halt a second time. Morvan closed her eyes and sighed. There was an injured animal calling to her for help. But the longer she remained on Sinclair land, the more she put herself and her clan in peril.
Her shoulders slumped even as she turned toward the sound. No amount of danger could keep her from helping an animal in need.
Morvan followed the cries, recognizing them as being from a red deer. A few moments later, she moved aside foliage and caught sight of the majestic buck that had his impressive antlers tangled in the branches of a tree.
The buck caught her scent before he saw her, and it set him to jerking hi
s antlers in a renewed attempt to get free. Morvan began to hum softly and walked toward the frightened animal. The louder the buck cried, the more his hooves flailed and his legs kicked, she louder she hummed, all the while moving slowly and calmly.
She slowed and cocked her head to the side when she caught the buck’s gaze. “Easy now, handsome. I’m here to help.”
The buck let out a snort, his black eyes wild with fatigue and fear. Morvan remained where she was, hoping the animal would calm a bit to allow her to get closer.
The humming helped, but she had to touch him before she could really help him. The longer she waited, the more the buck’s frenzy would double. By the marks on the tree from his antlers, and the grooves in the ground from his pawing of the earth, the poor animal had been stuck for some time.
With only five feet separating them, Morvan took a deep breath and moved closer. As soon as she did, the buck kicked out a hoof. Morvan grunted as it slammed into her stomach, knocking her backwards.
She clutched her abdomen but kept eye contact with the buck. Pushing past the pain, Morvan once more walked to the deer. He kicked her twice more in the legs before she was finally able to put a hand on his flank.
Instantly, the animal calmed. Tears gathered when she felt how the buck shook beneath her palm. She hummed and softly stroked him while walking around to his other side.
“It’s all right now. I’m here to get you loose,” she whispered in a sing-song voice that matched the tune she was humming.
The buck closed his eyes. Morvan ran her hand up to his spine, then forward to where his antlers sprouted from his head. She kept one hand on him at all times and slowly turned his head this way and that to get him free.
For the next ten minutes she worked, sweat dripping down her face. The buck’s breathing had calmed, but he needed food and water quickly.
Suddenly, the thick antlers came free. Morvan released the animal as he stumbled backwards a few steps. His black soulful eyes blinked at her for a heartbeat. Then he walked to her and lowered his head enough so that she could rub his forehead.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered with a smile. “Go now. The forest is calling to you.”
The buck turned and leapt over a fallen tree before he bounded out of sight. No matter how many animals she saved, their gratitude afterwards always made her teary.
Morvan leaned against a tree and gently touched her stomach, knee and shin where the deer had kicked her. She was lucky not to have any broken bones, but there was definitely going to be bruising. Despite the injuries she’d sustained, it was worth it to save an animal.
She turned east to return to MacKay land and had only gone a few steps when something urged her to go left. Morvan tried to fight the compulsion, but the force was too strong. Trepidation made her hands clammy. Four times she tried to turn around, and each time the force compelling her grew stronger.
Morvan gave up fighting and allowed the compulsion to take her where it would. To her horror, she walked deeper onto Sinclair land toward a rock structure that seemed to burst out of the ground and stretch to the heavens. Every step she took left a sinking feeling of doom that spread through her.
Quickly, she found herself at the structure, staring up. Morvan tried to turn around, but the force wouldn’t loosen its hold. With a sigh, she began to climb up a steep incline riddled with moss-coated rocks. By the time she reached the top, she was winded and weary. Precipitation began to fall in a soft drizzle that quickly increased. Morvan blinked through the rain.
All around her were massive boulders that dwarfed her. Morvan saw an opening to a cave and dashed. She didn’t know where to go next. The feeling that had been guiding her was gone. She hoped that meant she’d reached her destination, but as far as she could tell, there was no animal for her to help.
“Which means what, exactly?” she mumbled in frustration.
Not only was she on Sinclair land, but she was also miles away from her woods. She wished she were back in her cottage sipping a mug of tea.
Morvan poked her head out of the cave and lifted her face to the sky but saw nothing but gray. The storm could be over in a moment, or it could linger for hours. She didn’t like the idea of climbing back down the slope, especially after the rain had made the damp stones slick. But she couldn’t remain there anymore either.
Morvan glanced over her shoulder to the dark cave behind her. She didn’t know how far back it went, or what might be living inside, and she didn’t want to find out.
A look out of the cave once more revealed boulders that almost looked as if they were placed in a maze-like pattern. But that couldn’t possibly be right. No one but giants could lift those boulders, and there were no giants.
The atmosphere suddenly became ominous, foreboding. It wasn’t the weather, but…almost as if a dark presence were causing the shift. There was no denying the malevolence, the cruelty permeating the very air.
Morvan didn’t like the place. She wanted to get as far from it as she could.
With no weapon in sight, she walked out from the shelter of the cave and went back the way she had come to return to her cottage. Only it was blocked by a boulder. A boulder that hadn’t been there before.
Magic. Her mind voiced the word she wasn’t prepared to let past her lips.
Morvan looked up at the rock that seemed to reach the heavens. She tried to find a way around it, but both sides were melded into the rock on either side of it leaving her walled in. She spun around and faced the narrow path between the other rocks. If she wanted to leave, she was going to have to walk the trail.
Her heart thumped a slow, dreadful beat in her chest. The first step was the hardest. With every one after, she expected something to jump out at her from behind one of the boulders. She heard something behind her, but when she tried to turn around and see what it was, a voice in her head screamed for her not to. Morvan wisely kept her gaze ahead of her.
The path led her on a continual soft incline this way and that. Normally she knew her way instinctively, but she was so turned around that she didn’t know if she would ever find home again.
The rain was at least letting up enough so she could see a little ways ahead of her. That was how she saw the wall of rock. It towered before her, carved with thousands of markings of various sizes.
As a child of the woods, Morvan kept her Celtic roots close. She recognized the carvings as those of the Celts. By their worn look, these were ancient. It was as if the wall was important to the Celts. Why else would they carve all of these symbols into it? There was also a slight humming coming from the stone, as if it were alive.
Magic, her mind whispered again.
Magic had brought her to the cliff, and magic filled the air. Why had it chosen her? That dark feeling from earlier was now gone. It had dissipated after she’d left the cave. Morvan began to wonder if there were some kind of entity guiding her. It made her shiver with fear – and wonder.
No matter how many times she looked at the ancient Celtic symbols, she kept coming back to a carving of a wolf. The carving was larger than her hand, the knotwork exquisite.
She knew the wolf could be literal or symbolic. And it could mean any number of things. The Old Ways taught her that a man marked with the symbol of the wolf was fearless, brave, and rarely compromised. They were the men who became heroes in the heat of battle. They would not back down, and they would take no quarter. They thrived on challenges. Their character was impeccable, and they lived by a creed of honor.
What did that mean for her, however? There were a few instances in history when a woman was marked with a wolf, but those times were rare. Besides, Morvan knew her place. She was anything but a wolf.
She stared at the etching for long moments. Another overwhelming feeling filled her. This time, she felt the need to touch the wolf etching, to run her fingers over it. She didn’t know why it was so important.
Or why she hesitated.
Morvan swallowed and gave in to the need. As soon a
s her fingertip came in contact with the symbol, there was a loud boom, and a gust of air from the stone that sent her flying backwards.
CHAPTER TWO
One moment Stefan was encased in darkness, and the next he was standing in the rain. He didn’t stop to wonder why he was out of his prison. He ducked behind the first stone he saw, crouched down, and looked around for an enemy.
His hunt had begun. It was the same hunt he swore he would take if he ever got out of the hellish place Ilinca had put him in. The gypsy would pay for what she had done to him and his friends. All Stefan had thought about was the gypsy’s death, of how he would take her last breath. Until the old woman was dead, he couldn’t rest, couldn’t think about his friends.
He pushed his long, wet hair out of his face and stood. He needed to know where he was. Stefan climbed atop the boulder and surveyed the area.
There was nothing about the forest that looked familiar, but he recognized the trees and the mist-covered mountains. He was still in Scotland, and that meant it was only a matter of time before he found the gypsy.
Stefan leapt to the ground, landing with bent knees. He wouldn’t put it past Ilinca to send someone after him, but the old woman had no idea who she’d put into that darkness. If she thought he had nothing but anger in his heart before, now it consumed him.
He went from boulder to boulder. There was someone up ahead. He could hear their breathing as well as a grunt of pain. Stefan lifted his lips in a sneer. So, Ilinca hadn’t taken long to send her first assassin.
Stefan rushed from behind the boulder. He didn’t have a weapon, but with the fury inside him, his hands would be enough. Just as he rounded the next rock, he saw a tangle of dark skirts as a woman used a boulder to get to her feet. Woman or man, it didn’t matter. Anyone sent by Ilinca would die.
Then the woman turned to face him and he saw her arresting face. That one moment of hesitation surprised him as much as it did her. But Stefan was already on a collision course, and there was no time to alter his direction.
