Twelvetide: Twelve Nights of Highland Magic

by Dawn Marie Hamilton

  Cael panted and grunted and thrashed within the stranger’s hold, but as if a magician at a fair, a rope appeared and the man tied Cael’s arms behind his back and bound his legs. Trussed like a hart after a hunt. Sucking in much needed air, he managed a quick glance at John as his cousin was gagged and hooded. Then he received the same offensive treatment.

  The blow to his stomach when tossed over a shoulder made him want to vomit. Sound muffled within the hood, but he heard John choking and felt all the worse. He swallowed convulsively, his mouth fouled by the taste of bile. With his weight heaved again, and repositioned on the man’s shoulder, he screamed into the gag from the pain to his ribs as his abductor bounded down the stairs.

  Cold air prickled exposed skin when they departed the dormitory. Then he was tossed onto something hard. Wooden. Splinters pierced his flesh and he worked a tense jaw. Horses whinnied and wheels creaked. Wagon? Was John there too? A loud thump and groan beside him answered the last question. Why were they being taken from the university?

  Anger quickly replaced the rush of the fight and he struggled against the bindings. All for naught. The magician had made them secure.

  His mind spun as the wagon bounced over ruts in the road. Was a joke being played by one of their fellow students? If so, it wasn’t funny.

  Had he or John angered someone? John was well-liked. Cael couldn’t think of anyone who might wish either of them harm. So why the subterfuge?

  When the wagon finally stopped, his body felt bruised and battered. Before he could detect sounds that might indicate where they’d been taken, he was yanked from the wagon like a sack of grain and once again tossed over a shoulder. Hinges creaked and then he was dropped onto a foul-smelling hay strewn floor. A thud and grunt to his left confirmed John remained with him.

  “Remove the hoods.” Shock skittered down Cael’s spine. He kenned the gruff voice. Their kin had them abducted! Why? ’Twas hard to fathom.

  Cael blinked rapidly as the bright light of a lantern shoved in front of his face nearly blinded him. An elder kinsman, Ronald of Invermarkie, yanked the hair from Cael’s face and glared into his eyes.

  “Why was he brought here?” Ronald demanded. “Ach, there is nae help for it now. He will be part of the conspiracy.”

  “What is going on?” John sounded more sober than he’d been in days.

  Ronald ignored the question. “Unbind them, then bring in our other guest.”

  Their captors untied them then left the room. Cael stomped his feet, shook out his hands, trying to regain feeling. He rubbed raw wrists and shared a sideways glance with John. What was going on?

  His cousin raised a brow and shrugged, remaining silent.

  Several kinsman were within the room, which appeared to be part of a noble hunting lodge. Cael had no memory of the place. Just how far had they traveled?

  The two men who’d abducted them returned carrying a third man between them; his head hung upon his chest, an arm secured around each of the other’s backs. They tossed him into a chair. Cael gasped when the man’s head flung back, exposing his identity. ’Twas Alastair of Kinnairdy, their clan chief, with a gaping bullet hole in his chest. He’d only recently received the title from the aging chief who had no heirs. Who had shot Alastair?

  Why had he and John been brought here?

  “Is he dead?” Cael blurted.

  “Aye, that he is,” Ronald answered. The others in the room remained silent. Grave. “Murdered.”

  Cael’s breath left him in a rush. “Why? Who?”

  “The why is unimportant. The who is nary a one of us, but all of us…” He swung an arm in an arc, implicating those present. “Including you, Caelan Innes.”

  Cael stepped back, eyes wide with alarm. Any one of them could have murdered the chief. But all of them? A brilliant strategy to hide the true murderer’s identity and reduce the risk of reprisal. “Nae. I refuse to participate in this mad scheme.”

  “Nor will I,” John added.

  Ronald must want the position of chief for himself. Why would the others in the room so conspire?

  “You have nae choice, lads. You join with us or die, and your families suffer.” Ronald turned to the others. “Let us finish this.” He unsheathed a dagger and plunged it into Alastair’s chest.

  One by one, the other men in the room approached the corpse, and did the same. Cael thought he’d be sick. John was handed a dagger and he followed suit. Cael took another step back. This was an atrocity. He wouldn’t—

  Ronald gripped his upper arm. “You will do this.”

  Cael didn’t want to join them, but feared these older men and what they were capable of executing. He didn’t want to die or risk his family being harmed.

  He accepted the dagger in nerveless fingers and forced the blade into the chief’s soft belly. Dropping the blade to the floor, he ran outside and heaved into the bushes next to the retching John.

  * * *

  Four years later

  Cael leaned forward in the saddle, anxiously eyeing the fork in the road. He’d been summoned to Coxton Tower by the new clan chief, Alastair’s eldest son, Alastair, after the murder of Ronald of Invermarkie by another kinsman. What tangled webs one weaves. He felt no sorrow at the man’s passing. Nor was he offended by the other kinsman’s action. He felt naught. Empty. Cael didn’t understand why he’d responded to the summons and left the comfort of his new life in the Western Highlands with the MacLachlans so close to the start of Yule.

  Honor he supposed. Though on that dreadful night four years ago, he possessed no honor. He should have fought harder against them or died trying to defend himself and John. Death would have been better than this heavy burden of guilt.

  Since then, he’d left many letters from John unanswered. He hadn’t even attended his cousin’s wedding. Perhaps too ashamed to be among kin with the sin of that night heavy on his soul. After the mayhem, he’d done what he was told and kept the secret. He’d left and found some solace among another clan. Though always the outsider.

  Pushing the regretful memories aside, he steered his mind away from recrimination and reined the horse toward the trail to Coxton. At the approach to the tower, he almost lost his nerve. How could he face John? Inhaling deeply, he spurred the horse to a gallop, crossed the fields, and entered the courtyard gate. He was through being a coward.

  The four-story structure shadowed the courtyard, but provided protection from the biting winter wind. Still, Cael shivered as he handed off the horse to a stable lad.

  John rushed down the steps to greet him. Cael stepped back, but his cousin dragged him into a hug and they partook of some manly back slapping. Perhaps he shouldn’t have stayed away so long after all.

  In the great hall, they sat before the hearth, but he felt little warmth from the fire.

  “My wife will be down shortly,” John said. “Why have you not married?”

  “Dinnae deserve a bride. Not after what happened.”

  John’s smile disappeared.

  “That is not to mean you should not have wed.” Cael attempted to make amends for his thoughtless comment.

  “I take no offense. I have put that night behind me. Hopefully, over the years, I will make up for my transgression.” John smiled, though his features remained earnest. “You should find a wife, cousin. Forget what happened in Glasgow.”

  “I cannot.” Cael frowned and shook his head.

  “No one kens of your involvement. Most believe Ronald kilt Alastair over a romantic entanglement. Now that Ronald is dead, the matter is over.”

  “Then why was I summoned by the chief? And why to your home instead of his?”

  John waved a hand, dismissing the matter as if of minor importance. “An ancient Druid garden remains hidden due north of here. ’Tis said if you visit the place on the twelfth night of Yule, when magic is at its strongest, you will find your one true love standing below the old oak tree.”

  “Is that where you found your wife?”

  “Nae.
” John grinned. “On a faerie hill.”

  They laughed, but Cael felt little humor.

  A horn blast from one of the bartizans brought them to their feet.

  “Fire!” Screams came from the courtyard below.

  John ran to a window. “The stable is in flames.”

  They ran out of the tower house and joined others already fighting the blaze. Fortunately, one of the first on the scene had the foresight to drive the horses from the stable. Everyone worked together, made a gallant attempt to douse the fire, but heavy smoke and heat forced them back from the timber structure. All they could do was watch as the building collapsed.

  Cael wiped a forearm across a sweaty brow and smeared soot into his eyes. He bent over a trough and splashed water in his face. Damn. He wished they could have saved the stable.

  A shrill woman’s scream from the tower house jolted him upright.

  “My wife. She is with child.” John bolted for the steps, taking them two at a time.

  Cael stiffened then lurched into a run. By the time he reached the door, smoke billowed from upper story windows, the structure engulfed in flames, the fire spreading fast, as if someone had torched the place. He ran into the great hall ten paces behind his cousin. John shot up the stairs as a heavy beam fell and blocked Cael’s way. A second beam broke away, knocking Cael to the floor, pinning an arm. He struggled to get free without success. Smoke clogged his lungs. Others rushed to help. One man lifted the end of the beam while another dragged Cael to safety.

  Smoke, heat, and flames forced them to retreat to the courtyard in fits of coughing. Cael attempted to reenter, but was held back by others. No! He fisted his uninjured hand and watched in desperation as those inside were consumed by flames.

  Hours passed before he was able to mount the stone steps and enter the ruins of Coxton Tower. The gruesome discovery of the burnt remains of John embracing his dead wife would never be forgotten. Cael wept over their graves.

  Although the steward claimed the fires an accident, Cael had doubts. Seemed odd the fires occurred shortly after his arrival. Odder still that two fires occurred at the same time. And the one who’d summoned him had not made an appearance.

  Days later, his bandaged arm in a sling, he mounted his horse and road away from the death and destruction. He halted at the crossroads. Where should he go? He didn’t really have anything to return to in the Western Highlands where he’d been living the past four years.

  He needed time to think. To consider all that transpired.

  You should find a wife. John’s voice taunted.

  “I dinnae deserve a wife!” Cael shouted.

  Still, he guided the horse onto the northern road. Riding in silence, wallowing within a jumble of accusatory and recriminating thoughts, he didn’t hear the approach of horses until the bandits were nearly upon him. He spurred his horse and sped off.

  The bandits chased for several leagues, until all but one pursuer fell behind.

  Cael’s horse showed signs of tiring. As was he. He jerked a glance over a shoulder. The final pursuer seemed to have dropped off too. Cael halted in a glen flanked by two black-sided mountains. Snow-dusted evergreens sparkled in afternoon sunlight. Pure winter air cleansed away the stench of the fire. All was quiet, until a gunshot reverberated through the hills.

  Silence returned. Cael felt a twinge on the left side of his chest and belched. He must have eaten tainted food. Eager to get on with the fool’s errand, he rode deeper into the glen. Clouds massed. Snow began to fall. Abruptly, a sharp pain within his breast nearly keeled him over. The discomfort spread to his left arm. He rubbed the painful spot. His fingers came away tinged with blood.

  Shite! He’d been shot. Were the men chasing him not bandits but vengeful kin? Had kin set the fire? Cael shuddered with a fit of coughing, retching a pool of blood. So it ends!

  He slumped forward in the saddle and tumbled from the horse, his life draining scarlet into the pristine snow.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Fourteen years ago, Black Hills of Scotland

  Drat. He’d evaded her again. Ashley dropped the bear to the ground, bent forward, placed hands on denim-clad thighs, and gulped air. She’d almost caught the darn boy as he rounded the last bend. He was fast. Tricky.

  From the other side of the shrubs behind her came mocking laughter. She spun around. How had he gotten there? The boy wouldn’t best her. She snatched the bear and darted to the right. Dodged left around a corner and spotted him at the end of the hedgerow.

  He took off, and she dashed after him. Chased him around yet another corner and slid to a halt in a large clearing with a big tree. A blond-haired man, dressed in leather pants and a linen shirt and draped in a red and green plaid blanket, stepped from behind the gnarly trunk. The boy ran to him, into him, and the two became one.

  Ashley stilled and sucked in a quick breath. How?

  Legs shaking, bear clutched tight, she stepped backward, ready to turn and flee.

  “Wait!” The man bent to one knee. “Dinnae fret. I will not harm you.”

  Knees locked, she lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “I am glad.” He smiled and the edges of his green eyes creased just like Uncle Mike’s did when happy.

  “Who is the boy I chased through the maze?” she asked.

  “A younger, better version of myself.”

  “Where did he go?” Ashley walked closer to the man. The boy couldn’t have become part of the man. That only happened on TV.

  “He is here.” The man patted his chest. “Within me.”

  She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “You will understand when you are older.”

  “I hate when adults say that.”

  “I am sorry. Please dinnae be angry with me.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded, one hand on hip, the other holding the bear in a tight fist.

  “My name is Caelan Innes. My friends call me Cael. What is your name, lass?”

  Ashley dropped her gaze to the ground, scraped the toe of a shoe over the grass from side to side, bit her lip, suddenly losing all bravado. She wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers.

  The man seemed nice enough though. What would it hurt to tell him her name? She looked up into his face. He had a friendly smile. Nice green eyes. “I’m Ashley. Do you work at the manor house?”

  “Nae. I am your destiny, golden eyes.”

  She scrunched her face. “What does that mean?”

  “You will understand better when you are older.”

  “You said that already.”

  “So I did.” He grinned.

  “Pffff!” Ashley pursed her lips. “You told me your name but not who you are. If you don’t work for the manor house, what do you do?”

  “I am a ghost. I haunt the maze.”

  “No way. Get out of here.” She attempted to press a palm to his chest and almost tripped when her hand went through his body. “Y-you are a g-ghost.”

  “Dinnae fear me.”

  She took a step back and shook her head, unsure whether to stay or bolt.

  “Please, dinnae run away. I would never hurt you.” He smiled, in a sad sort of way. “Do you ken about ghosts and the twelve nights of Yule?”

  “No.” What did ghosts have to do with Yuletide? The festivities would begin tonight. “Will you tell me?”

  “Aye.” He removed the plaid blanket and laid it on the grass in front of him. “Perhaps you would like to sit.”

  Ashley hesitated. Uncle Mike wouldn’t be happy with her. The man’s pleading eyes were very persuasive though. She chewed her lip.

  “Okay.” She plopped onto the blanket, and Cael hunkered down beside her.

  “Every year on the winter solstice the veil between realms thins and then tears and as Twelvetide progresses the breach between the earth and the otherworld allows all manner of supernatural creatures, including the spirits of the dead, like me, to travel through and roam the earth.”

  A
shley’s eyes bugged. “Really? How did you die?”

  “Murdered.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Aye. ’Tis.”

  “Do you know who killed you?”

  “I have an inkling.” He tilted his head to the side. “Shall I continue with the tale?”

  She nodded and scooted closer, wanting to be near Cael. He made her feel safe. Wanted.

  “Some spirits are good. Some evil,” he said.

  “You are good.”

  “I try to be.” He ran big fingers over a fold in the wool cloth between them. “During the twelve nights of Yule—”

  “That is like the twelve days of Christmas, right, but starts tonight on the solstice?”

  “Aye. During the twelve days, the fiercest of spirits—men, horses, hellhounds—follow their leader on wild hunts, riding the stormy night skies, causing havoc and mayhem.”

  “They do that on Halloween where I live. That’s what some of the boys in my class claim.”

  “In Scotland they do it on every possible occasion. Have a care, lass.”

  Ashley yawned, the warmth of the sun and Cael’s ghost story making her sleepy.

  “Take this.” He handed her a rusty old key. “’Tis the key to my heart. You will need it when you come back to me.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “You will ken. When the time is right, you will ken.”

  She traced a finger over the fancy design at the top of the key. Hmmm. Where should she put it? Might fall out of a jeans pocket. She opened the little suitcase sewn to the bear’s paw. Inside was a secret compartment. Ashley dropped the key into the pouch and zipped it shut. There it would be safe.

  She glanced up at Cael. He stared back with sad eyes. “Come to me when you become a woman. Promise me.”

  “I will. I pinky swear.” She hooked her pinky with his, and he laughed when her finger slid through his ghostly form.

  “You are a precious angel. I will miss you.” His image faded.

  “Wait! Don’t go.” Ashley didn’t want him to leave. “Why can’t you stay with me?”