Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5)

by Sky Purington

  He kissed the tip of her finger, his brogue slipping free now that they were no longer around their twenty-first century friends. “Aye, I had no choice over these long years if I was to keep ye safe. But ‘tis good that I’ve learned to do such. Keir Hamilton might be our enemy, but he gave me a gift, one I hope will aide in his own destruction.”

  Emotion and pride flickered in her steady gaze before her eyes slowly went to the baby oak. “It hasnae changed a bit since I first shifted into the dragon.”

  Colin took her hand and they walked over to the tree. He could still see her lying beneath it. A young lass with so many years of difficulty ahead.

  “I still wonder why it doesnae grow or change with the seasons,” Torra said.

  “It will.”

  Torra and Colin spun to see a little old lady hobbling up to them. Fog drifted around her feet and a degu jumped on her shoulder.

  “Fionn Mac Cumhail,” Torra whispered.

  Torra and Colin knelt and lowered their heads.

  “Nay, up with you both.” Her kind eyes flickered betwixt them. “You have come far. ‘Tis time that we speak before you continue your journey.”

  Colin’s eyes widened as they stood. Gone was the little old lady and in her place, a tall golden warrior. Still the fog swirled and more animals filtered around them as Fionn raised the back of Torra’s hand to his lips, appreciative eyes on her face. “You have done so very well, Nathair sgiathach. Since the day this oak was born.”

  “But of course you were here. We saw you briefly.” she said softly.

  “Aye.” His eyes went to the tree. “After all, ‘twas me who ensured Iosbail’s Ma gave her that acorn and Fate that urged Iosbail to then give it to you.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “What you did not know about that day so long ago was that you had traveled through time to a period just after the original three Claddagh rings were created. ‘Twas always in part because of the mother oak’s magic that those rings came to be.”

  Fionn looked fondly at the tree.

  “That magic, of course, was part of the baby oak as well.” Fionn’s eyes went to Colin then back to her. “When combined with a love once more found ‘twas always part of the power within the new Claddagh rings, those that brought together the Brouns with the next generation of MacLomains.”

  A wise glint entered the god’s eyes as he looked at Torra. “‘Twas always part of what happened during the dragon shift that broke the Viking seers’ binding magic. When you did such the dragon tapped into the power created when you first shifted here and harnessed this wee oak’s magic. When combined with warlock Seth’s magic, the stones broken from the Highland Defiance in the rings, the tattoos and their connection to your scales, the combination became the perfect weapon against your enemy.”

  He remembered the warlock named Seth from the future. Friends with the Broun lasses, he had fought alongside the MacLomains when Colin and Keir had infiltrated their castle via fire.

  While fascinated, Colin was far more interested in something else Fionn had said.

  “A love once more found?” he said.

  A sparkle lit Fionn’s eyes. “But of course. Torra is your twin soul, lad. ‘Twas inevitable that you crossed paths once more.”

  Torra and Colin’s eyes met. It explained so much. He squeezed her hand. “But of course she is.”

  “‘Twas the love you had for one another that allowed the magic to pull together more great loves.” Fionn’s lips curled up mischievously. “‘Twas also the reason behind not only the tree itself promoting fertility, but the passion required to ignite the ring’s stones and the tattoos.”

  “I always wondered about that,” Torra said, amused. “Yet I suppose some part of me knew all along that the dragon understood such.”

  “Aye, but you and the dragon needed to bond so that all might become clearer. And you are nearly there, lass.” Fionn’s eyes again flickered between the two. “If not for your love all the other loves reunited would have not been here to help and they are indeed crucial to your battle against Keir Hamilton.”

  “So amazing,” Torra murmured. “And wonderful.”

  “Aye,” Fionn agreed. Ghostly warriors appeared then disappeared behind him and a buck brushed up against his leg. “Now that all of your memories have been returned to you ‘tis nearly time to face Keir Hamilton once more.”

  So it was Fionn who had kept the memories of their time here hidden. Curious, Colin asked, “Why return our memories so recently? Better yet, why take them from us to begin with?”

  “Quite simple that.” Fionn arched a brow. “What might Keir Hamilton have done with such information if he somehow discovered it within your minds?”

  “Och, nothing good,” Torra said. “In fact, so verra many things could have gone wrong.”

  Colin’s brows drew together. “I ken that Iosbail made sure Torra was brought here before she shifted into the dragon. But I cannae help but wonder…who made sure I arrived? Was it ye?”

  “Nay. I was too busy seeing a Dire wolf and Celtic sword to their rightful place.” Fionn’s brow rose. “Which only leaves one other. Someone who has a habit of meddling in the love connections of his MacLomains and must have thought ye a good match for Torra.”

  Torra and Colin’s eyes met and she grinned. “Adlin.”

  “And was he not the one who helped ye travel back in time to meet me at the Defiance years later?” Colin said, incredulous. “Or might it better be said to meet Valan?”

  “Which eventually led you there.” She shook her head, eyes wide. “So ‘tis truly hard to know. Who was one step ahead of the other in all that has happened…Adlin or Iosbail?”

  “It seems they’ve had a grand adventure of it,” Colin said to both Torra and Fionn.

  “Aye, so it seems.” Fionn’s expression grew far more serious. “‘Tis nearly time now.” He held out his hand to Torra. “‘Twould be best if I held your ring lest Keir Hamilton see it.”

  When distress flared in her eyes, Fionn said, “Worry naught. I will see it safely returned to you afterward.”

  Though reluctant, she parted with her betrothal ring.

  Fionn once more kissed the back of Torra’s hand. “Fight well, Nathair sgiathach and destroy once and for all this MacLomain enemy. Once you do, you’ll have fully embraced the dragon. When such happens, the baby oak will grow and as it was for you, it will forever be a source of strength to your MacLomain kin.”

  Then the god clasped hands with Colin. “As you have in every life, protect well your lass.”

  Before Colin could respond, Fionn Mac Cumhail turned. As he walked away, fog twisted up around him and he vanished, only his final words left echoing.

  “Take these last few moments together. My power will assist you when time unfolds.”

  Gone was the terror he had seen in Torra’s eyes when they first arrived. Now there was only determination and courage. Colin cupped her cheeks and cherished these last few moments that he might gaze into her eyes. “I love you, Torra MacLomain and will see you through this. We will have our life together.”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “And I love you.”

  Colin kissed her softly. But as was bound to happen, passion ignited. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Long and thorough, he poured his heart into the sweet exchange. When their hearts thundered and his blood raged through his veins, he knew it was time to pull away. Lust would have to be set aside until later. Until after what would likely be the longest days of his bloody life.

  Eyes shining and lips pink, her gaze never left his. “‘Tis time then, aye?”

  Colin nodded and stepped away.

  Torra held out the scrap of black leather. “I would have given this to you sooner but ‘twas better that you didnae have much contact with it.”

  Their fingers brushed as he took it and he nearly pulled her back into his arms.

  “When the time comes you must chant the following words within your mind. Style hac draco virtutem in
hostium potestate præfinito ligare. With this that harnesses dragon’s power, bind enemy’s control in this final hour.”

  Colin repeated the words.

  “Ye willnae forget?” she said.

  “Never,” Colin replied. “I will do as ye ask at dusk on the eve of the full moon thrice days from when we return.”

  Torra nodded and he was surprised by her soft words. “‘Twill be the eve of Christmastide.”

  “Aye,” he said. “‘Tis not something that was celebrated when with the Hamiltons nor overly so within my own clan. ‘Twas not the sort of thing Da embraced.”

  Her eyes grew troubled. “‘Tis sad that. ‘Twas always a grand affair at my castle. One that I have not enjoyed for ten winters.”

  So Colin said what they both needed to hear. “This year ‘twill be different. We will at last celebrate our first Christmastide together.”

  “Might it be so,” she whispered.

  “Aye, ‘twill be, my lass.” But it was time to step away from what lie in the future and focus on the present. He murmured a few words and they were both once more dressed as they were when they left Keir’s chamber.

  They gave each other one long last look before Torra started to chant.

  “Ad scindendum iterum replicat, ut anima mea. Custodite omne secretum, quod etiam post tergum ut videmus ambo. My soul to split once more as time unfolds. Keep secret all, even after back to that moment we both fall.”

  The jarring sensation of shifting through space grabbed hold. Except this time it felt different. Though he still smelled Torra’s sweet burn, there was no sensation of falling. He blinked twice and was suddenly again standing in Keir Hamilton’s chamber right where he had been before.

  This time when Keir lunged to grab Torra he succeeded.

  It was as if she had never warped away into the altar to begin with.

  Keir yanked her against him. “Where do ye think yer going, lass.”

  It nearly took more strength than Colin was capable of to stand idly by. Because if Keir sensed his distress for even a moment everything could go horribly wrong. As was, they had no way of knowing if he’d figured out they had been gone to begin with.

  Keir chanted a few words and the altar once more returned to nothing but a charred hearth covered with heavy drips of candle wax. Furious, the Hamilton shoved Torra across the room until she stumbled to her knees.

  Colin clenched his hands together behind his back to keep from punching Keir and pressed his teeth together to keep from speaking. Gods did he look forward to wiping this evil piece of shite out of existence.

  The Hamilton towered over Torra for a moment before he yanked her to her feet and manacled her wrists to chains attached to the wall. “How dare ye free Iosbail MacLomain. But it doesnae matter. That sword ye tossed into the serpents seems to have done the trick.”

  Keir looked at Torra with a daunting mix of loath and lust. “Ye’ll stay here where I can keep a close eye on ye.” Then he turned, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and narrowed his eyes on Colin. “We need to talk.”

  Colin nodded. “Aye, my Laird.”

  The Hamilton strode past him. “Come.”

  As far as Keir last knew Colin had been in the midst of battling the MacLomains and Grant had been clever enough to trap Torra and bring them all back here. Colin prayed to the gods that the Hamilton did not somehow see all that happened between then and now.

  Ice and snow fell as he joined Keir on a battlement that rose high above those who held the castle under siege. Hands braced on the ledge, the overlord tilted back his head and closed his eyes. Not sure in the least what was coming; Colin crossed his arms over his chest and stared down upon the MacLomains.

  When Keir inhaled deeply, Colin glanced his way. A slow, evil smile had crawled onto the Hamilton’s face when their eyes met. “Ye did good, lad. Verra, verra good.” But then his lips turned down and his eyes went flat. “‘Tis one thing I dinnae ken though.”

  Colin kept his face expressionless. This was it. Keir had figured out something important. “Aye?”

  “That sword, the one that appeased the serpents.” His eyes grew distant before they narrowed on Colin. “Where did Grant get that?”

  “I dinnae know.” Colin didn’t bat a lash. “‘Twas a hell of a blade though.”

  “‘Twas cunning how he managed to fool the enemy up until the end.” Keir cocked his head. “Yet how convenient that he ended up with a sword that appeased the gods and saved Iosbail MacLomain…for now.”

  He might be beyond evil, but Keir possessed a disturbingly brilliant mind.

  Colin had a ready answer though. “I cannae speak to where he got the blade but ‘tis good he did. There could be no guessing Torra’s actions. But at least she is yours now, aye?”

  Keir continued to eye him. “Aye, so it appears yet several things niggle at my conscience. ‘Tis not good that they have Grant and the sword is a loose end. I dinnae like such things.”

  Neither did Colin. But little could he do about it. He had to play a part that nauseated him. So he said what would be logical. “It seems then that the answers ye seek are with the lass.”

  “So it would seem.” Keir licked his lips in anticipation. “‘Twill be most enjoyable.”

  And while for the briefest of moments he thought his laird contented with his thoughts, never was he more wrong. Eyes inky and deceptive, the Hamilton focused his full attention on Colin. “What think ye of once more seeing yer long lost love not as a dragon but as the bonnie wee lass she is?”

  Colin made a point of considering carefully, all the while keeping a hard look in his eyes. “Four winters can do a lot to change a lad’s perspective. ‘Tis safe to say that I wouldnae see all these hard years of training thrown away for a mere lass.” He ground his jaw. “Nay, now I wish for greatness, one I like to think I might achieve in my unending devotion to ye, my Laird.”

  “‘Tis good to hear this.” Keir gripped Colin’s shoulders. “But I cannae help but be sure.”

  Black magic pooled in the Hamilton’s eyes and Colin froze.

  Never before had Colin felt Keir within his mind and the sensation was indescribable. Murky, dark, painful, it felt as if a burning hot dagger thrust, dug in and twisted beneath his skull. And though he cried out in pain, no sound came from his lips. The blasphemous intrusion was inescapable and brutal.

  When at last Keir pulled free from his mind and his eyes returned to normal, Colin’s knees nearly buckled. While he knew damn well the man was powerful he’d never experienced such a thorough taste of it. And though he had always had a profound respect for his best friend, now it was tenfold. How the bloody hell had Grant survived fourteen winters with Keir wrapped within his mind and not only managed to grow stronger but end up so honorable?

  Colin fully expected that Keir just saw everything clearly and that he’d bring the wrath of the gods down in an instant. But instead, the Hamilton nodded and even grinned. “Ye were happy indeed to see that Grant didnae betray us. ‘Tis so verra good this.”

  “Aye,” Colin agreed and kept confusion well hidden. “But then I expected nothing less.”

  “Aye.” Keir nodded slowly. “But ‘twas always bound to be questionable in that we war with his verra clan. Or what was his clan,” Keir ground out. “Now he is a Hamilton good and true.”

  If only he was and this evil bastard was dead. The poor Hamilton clan would be better off for it.

  Keir grinned down at the MacLomains and fingered the leather wrapped pentacle hanging around his neck. “‘Tis almost time. Thrice days hence and I will unleash the dragon.” Unmistakable desire flared in his eyes. “Meantime, I have a lass to question.”

  Keir clapped him on the shoulder. “Go see to the warriors. They must be prepared and ready for action soon.”

  So it was that Colin found himself on the battlement alone with both incredible relief and fear in his heart. Relief because Keir had seen nothing incriminating within his mind. Thus far, their plans
would move forward accordingly. Yet he feared for Torra right now. How was he to stand here and allow Keir to hurt her? To allow the evil he’d just felt torture him do the same to his lass?

  Did not standing by and doing nothing make him just as much a monster as the Hamilton?

  Colin gripped the battlement and stared down on the warriors below as wind whipped ice against his face. So many had asked this of him, including Torra. Hell, even two kings and a Celtic god would see him remain silent. Yet still, a horrible sense of betrayal seized him. This should not be happening to her. What was he thinking for agreeing to any of this? She was his twin soul. He was supposed to protect her.

  This was all wrong and he was about to act on it.

  “Keir will not lay with her.”

  Colin recognized that the words, though within his mind, were not his. Nay, he did not recognize the essence of its speaker at all.

  Tentative, careful, he replied within the mind, “Who is this?”

  “I am Naðr Véurr, one of the kings who have so long been in Torra’s mind.”

  Colin was careful to temper shock as well as one could from a voice in their mind. Besides, it was impossible to ever know precisely where Keir might be even if he said he was going to see Torra.

  Though Colin knew he should thank the king for being there for Torra, he was far more interested in something else and did well to control the heavy thud of his heart. “What do ye mean Keir will not lay with her?”

  “It is a well-known thing that a virgin dragon is easier to control than one already taken,” Naðr said as though Colin should have already guessed that.

  So strong was his sense of relief that Colin clenched his shaking hands. Yet still he worried for her. “Does she know this? Please say she does,” he growled into his mind. “‘Twould ease her fears some.”

  But Naðr Véurr gave no response. Nay, his essence vanished from Colin’s mind.

  Bloody hell.

  Yet still, the Viking king had given him so much. Though the days ahead would be nothing but one long nightmare, at least he now knew that Keir would not rape Torra. Colin leaned back against the battlements for a moment to regain his near broken composure.