Mael: Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 2

by Hunter, Hazel

  “No,” she gasped. “Stop the Sluath from hurting me.”

  Galan froze. A huge bolt of power slammed into the Sluath behind him, who were blasted back against their mounts. They fell to the ground.

  Rosealise clambered to her feet to survey the demons, who weren’t moving. She couldn’t tell if they were breathing, but their beauty seemed to be dimmed now.

  Rosealise put her hand on Galan’s arm. “Tell me, are they dead?”

  “No. They’re but stunned.” As the druid stared down at her, his eyes focused and narrowed. “What do you to me?”

  “Be still and let me think.”

  For a moment she considered telling Galan to kill them and himself with the warrior’s iron sword. But from what they had said there were more demons waiting at the village. To do such a thing would lead them back here to take vengeance. In order to protect Mael and the clan she had to make this as if it had never happened.

  “Put the Sluath on their horses and take them to the others,” she told the druid. “Forget about me and what happened here. All you will remember about this night is that I attacked the demons, and you killed me for it.”

  Galan turned and went to the Sluath, grunting as he slung them over their saddles. He gathered the reins before he mounted his horse and led the other two down the trail. Once he reached the glen he turned away from the stream and rode away from Dun Chaill’s protective forest.

  The iron warrior shook beside Rosealise, and then fell over as a huge hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Make no’ a sound,” Mael whispered against her ear, and tossed away the moss he’d removed from the warrior’s head.

  * * *

  Mael waited until Galan and the demons had ridden out of sight before he released Rosealise.

  She turned to face him. “However did you find me?”

  “I’m a tracker.”

  He took her arm and marched her over to where he’d concealed his own mount. Without another word he tossed her up onto the horse’s bare back and swung up behind her.

  As he took her back to Dun Chaill Rosealise told him of following the iron warrior to find the druid and the two demons. Mael said nothing, and barely heard the words she spoke. Seeing her so close to Galan and the Sluath, to death itself, still enraged him.

  When he reached the crumbling ruin of the curtain wall, he held her against him as he dismounted, setting her on her feet.

  “You must be dreadfully annoyed with me,” she said, and reached out to him. “It was foolish of me to follow–”

  “Go inside, my lady,” he told her through his clenched teeth. “I beg you.”

  Rosealise gave him an uncertain look before she nodded and retreated into the castle. Mael saw to the horse before he went after her. In the great hall he found her speaking earnestly to Domnall and Jenna.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Rosealise was saying. “I thought if they saw me running back here, they would surely follow, and find you all.”

  “’Twas a wise if reckless choice. The Mag Raith owe you a debt.” The chieftain met Mael’s gaze. “Seneschal, what saw you?”

  “Galan and two Sluath, allied against us. Doubtless sworn as brothers.” The words came out of him snarled and bitter. “The druid has gone too far this night. He wishes to follow the dark path, aye, then I would chase him on it straight back to the facking underworld.” He drew the axe from his shoulder harness. “I shall do so now.”

  “Alone? Dinnae be a fool.” The chieftain turned to his wife. “Jenna, ’tis late, and I’d speak more on this with Mael. You and Rosealise should seek your beds.”

  “I beg to differ, sir,” the Englishwoman said. “I witnessed all that occurred, and heard much more. I would be included in your discussion.”

  “Included?” Mael stared at her in disbelief. “’Tis only by the grace of the Gods you yet breathe, my lady. Do you ken what they’d have done to you? To my brothers and sister as they slept, unaware?” He threw out his arm. “Look upon this hall. Had those fackers found Dun Chaill, ’twould be painted red with our blood.”

  She paled as the shouted words echoed through the passages, and she turned away to cough against her sleeve.

  Instantly chagrined, Mael reached out to her. “Rosealise.”

  “I did mean to come back and tell you of the iron warrior,” she said, turning to face him. “I had no notion of what would occur in the ridges. There was no warning. When I saw the demons, it was already too late to flee.” She regarded Domnall. “You must know that I would never have led them here. I’d rather die first than betray the Mag Raith.”

  Even now she had so little regard for her life.

  “You should be dead,” Mael told her flatly. “For that is what you chased into the ridges this night, my lady. Your death.”

  “Gently, Brother,” the chieftain said, in the tone of a stern warning.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk,” Jenna said, as she took hold of Domnall’s hand and gave it a tug. “We’re safe for tonight, my man. Let’s do this in the morning.”

  “I think more needs to be said,” Rosealise said. Her voice took on a strange tenor of calm. “It was wrong of me to leave the castle alone, and I apologize for putting you and your clan in danger. None of my actions were deliberate, however, and I will not have you speak to me as if they were otherwise.”

  “’Tis no matter if you willnae protect yourself. I shall.” Mael strode up to her. “Never do you leave the castle again. If you wish something beyond these walls, bid me or one of the others fetch it. If you dinnae heed me I’ll chain you.”

  “I see.” Rosealise slowly removed his tartan and placed it over his shoulder without touching him. “I am not your captive, nor yours to command.”

  “I’d see you kept safe, my lady.”

  “You overstep my trust, sir.” She turned away from him. “Chieftain, if I may borrow your wife, I would retrieve the bedding from my old chamber. I will be occupying the buttery now, if you deem it safe.”

  Domnall nodded, and the two women left the great hall.

  Stunned now, Mael started after Rosealise, only to find the chieftain in his path.

  “I’d explain to her my meaning,” Mael said. “Step aside.”

  “You’ve said enough.” Domnall jerked the axe from his grasp. “Jenna has driven me to such fury, so I shall give you pass. This once.” He stepped in closer, his eyes glittering. “You take hold of yourself and your temper or I’ll put you in chains.”

  The chieftain dropped the huge weapon at Mael’s feet and stalked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SMALL MOTHS FLEW at the odorous tallow candles lighting the close confines of the hovel. They cast fleeting shadows across Galan’s damp face. He’d been so intent on bringing the two unconscious Sluath to the village that his thoughts stretched beyond that goal only after arriving. Thinking of the ridges brought back only snatches of images and sound. Try as he might, he could recall almost nothing of the attack. But the jumble of his memory didn’t worry him as much as the prospect of what would happen if Prince Iolar never again awoke.

  My life and hopes, destroyed by a facking wench.

  “Tell us again what happened,” Clamhan said from behind his skull mask.

  “We left the cave to start for the village. Our prince detected a mortal female in hiding. She attacked him and Danar, and I ended her for it,” he said, sure of his claim if nothing else. “I put them on the mounts and rode here. ’Twas naught but that.”

  Across the crude table Seabhag thrummed his claws against the pitted wood. “You expect us to believe that a mortal bitch struck down the two fiercest, mightiest of deamhanan. Then you, a fucking tree-licker, killed this marvel of the ages.”

  “’Twas likely a powerful druidess,” Galan replied. He met the demon’s eyes, which remained black and gleaming in his constantly-shifting face. “Never did I see her. She took the prince and Danar by surprise. ’Twas but the Sluath power bestowed on me th
at stopped her.”

  “He lies,” Meirneal said. “Again.” He came around the table, his cherubic features glowing with glee. “Give him to me, Clamhan. I’ll bite him until he confesses. I can make him last for a week, perhaps longer.”

  “Leave the druid alone,” a weary voice said from the pallet by the hearth.

  Galan looked over as Danar rose stiffly and came to join them. “I’m glad you survived the wench’s magic.”

  “That was no wench,” Galan said, probably for the tenth time.

  Danar glanced around the hovel. “What have you done with the prince?”

  “We put him in with the females still healthy enough to serve,” Clamhan said and spat at Galan. “Your pet druid didn’t mention this village is gripped by plague. Most of the mortals here lay dying of it. Their senses have grown too clouded by the sickness. They’re little more than rotting, moaning meat.”

  “How could I ken thus?” Galan retorted. He regarded the big demon. “I’ve been among you since leaving my own tribe.”

  “Not every moment,” Meirneal said, and bared his tiny teeth. They elongated into small, sharp fangs. “I starve for quivering flesh. Let me feast on him, Danar.”

  As the diminutive fiend lunged, Galan pushed back from the table. But he needn’t have since Danar grabbed him by the curls and dragged him back.

  “Control yourself, you little fool,” he told Meirneal. The Sluath shrieked as Danar flung him to the ground. “Galan, with me. Clamhan, take us to Prince Iolar.”

  The masked demon led them from the hovel to a larger, finer cottage near the center of the village. There four Sluath stood guard, each in the guise of huge mortal mercenaries. Galan followed Danar inside to find the big front room crowded with cowering mortal females who had been bound together in a circle around a bed. The prince lay atop the fur-draped ticking, his wounded arm wrapped in black-stained bandages. The glow of his magnificent form and his godlike countenance appeared muted, as if slowly being snuffed out by some unseen force.

  Danar stepped over two sobbing wenches to kneel beside the bed. “Has he stirred at all?”

  “No,” Clamhan said. He moved to the other side, but the sight of his skull mask made the female cry out in terror. “Silence.”

  “Druid, come here,” Danar ordered, and when Galan joined him, he gestured at the prince’s ashen face. “Did Sluath magic do this?”

  “The only demons there were you and our prince,” he pointed out.

  “The only deamhanan that you saw.” The big demon gestured at the prince. “What does this to him?”

  Galan put his hands above Iolar’s face, but the moment his power touched the enchantment it ended. As the prince’s eyelids stirred his glow intensified, restoring his beauty.

  “’Tis as ’twas in the cave,” Galan said. “Pritani magic. I’ve broken the spell.” He wasn’t sure how he’d done so, but had no hesitation over taking the credit for it. “The Mag Raith shaman, Edane, must have used a mortal female in the ridges to lure us close.”

  Danar looked skeptical now. “He struck the prince with an iron sword, which he knew could kill us both. Why would he resort to wielding magic when he had the advantage of the weapon?”

  “Iron wouldnae slay me,” Galan said quickly, “and Edane’s a weakling who ever feared my magic.” Had the shaman cast a spell to remove his memories, it would explain why he couldn’t recall the events clearly. “When I ended the wench, doubtless he saw how ’twould turn for the worse for him, and fled.”

  “So it would seem,” a weak voice said. Iolar slowly pushed himself up and surveyed the trembling, frightened females around him before he met Galan’s gaze. “You served me well tonight, Druid. I will not forget it. Now get out.”

  Galan followed Danar out of the cottage, from which screams began even before the door slammed shut behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MAEL’S ABSENCE FROM the morning meal and Rosealise’s unhappy silence suggested to Broden that the two had quarreled. After the ladies left to attend to the kitchens, Domnall briefly recounted the events in the ridges during the night.

  “Kiaran, you and Edane gather what iron swords and daggers you may find in the mound,” the chieftain said. “Bring back all still fit for use, and what more we might employ as protection for the ladies. Broden, you stand sentry in the hall until our return. Jenna and I shall move the horses to shelter in the forest out of sight. Once ’tis done, we shall see to barricades.”

  “What of Mael?” Broden couldn’t help asking.

  “He patrols the edge of the woods by the stream to keep watch for the demons.” Domnall’s expression tightened. “’Tis likely Rosealise insured they willnae return by persuading Galan to think her dead. If no’, we must stand ready to defend the castle.”

  “Mayhap we should consider fleeing to the west,” Kiaran said. As the other men regarded him, he sighed. “I ken ’tis the coward’s path, but we’ve females among us now. We must think to their safety. The Sluath cannae kill what they dinnae find.”

  “Wachvale willnae give us sanctuary,” Domnall said. “Nor could they or any village withstand a demon attack. ’Tis two days’ ride over open ground to the midlands.” The chieftain shook his head. “I’ll no’ risk it. We’re better protected here, behind what walls yet stand.”

  Broden saw something like pain flicker through the falconer’s eyes. He knew Kiaran to be as brave as the other hunters, but this talk of fleeing came from more than fear of the Sluath.

  He ran from the Vikings when they attacked and slaughtered his tribe, but he’s no more a helpless lad.

  Kiaran caught his look and grimaced before he regarded Domnall. “As you say, Chieftain.”

  After the other men left, Broden lit all of the torches and checked the surrounding passages while surveying what he could use against a demon siege. Lining the deeper holes in the ruins with swords and then covering them to appear as part of the dirt floors would serve as pit traps. With strategic placement of ropes and removal of mortar some of the crumbling stone walls could be pulled down atop an invading force.

  When he returned to the hall Broden found himself looking down the passage leading to the kitchen. For a time, he was alone with the Englishwoman, and much could be said without worry of being overheard, especially now with Mael far from the castle.

  She doesnae want me.

  After Rosealise had rejected him last night Broden had vowed to himself he would plague her no more. Yet countless other nights weighed on him now. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.

  He’d dreamt of feeling his lover’s soft hands stroking his body, and the low murmur of her longing against his lips. His skin yet warmed from the phantom feel of that long, moonlit hair sweeping over his flesh. The fragments of those hours together meant he had been loved by his lady, something he’d never known in the mortal realm.

  If that had been his—if she had been his—he had to know.

  Surely if Rosealise had given herself to him in the underworld she would not regret it. Jenna and Domnall proved that such love could be found again. He would ask nothing of her now unless she wished the same.

  “Broden?”

  He opened his eyes to see Rosealise standing only an arm’s length away.

  “My lady.” By the Gods, but his own dreams had made a fool of him. “I should walk the passages.”

  “You’ve done that twice,” she said, setting a basket of kindling wood by the hearth. “Come into the kitchens. I’ve just made a tea of sorts, and I’d appreciate a chance to talk with you.”

  Following Rosealise gave Broden nothing but more torment. She left in her wake the scent of herbs and berries, and the long spill of pale curls down her back seemed almost a taunt. By the time they entered the kitchens he could feel the sweat inching down his spine as he fought the grip of his obsession.

  “Please, do sit down.” She indicated one of the chairs Mael had made for her work table. From the hearth she took the brew pot and fille
d two cups. “This is a passably tolerant tisane of herbs, strawberry leaf and roses, with a touch of currant.”

  Broden hovered by the table, convinced he should be anywhere but there. Rosealise seemed as if nothing concerned her. She smiled at him as she brought the brew to the table and sat on one of the chairs.

  “Rather hot yet,” Rosealise warned after taking a cautious sip from her cup. “After last night I think we must dispense with veiled remarks and mysterious allusions. I prefer honesty over that. Do you agree?”

  “Aye.” At least his torment would end. “You should have your say first, my lady.”

  She inclined her head. “I’m aware that you’ve been watching me in a surreptitious manner every time I’m near you. From your expression I first presumed I caused you discomfort by my presence. Last night you made remarks that lead me to believe otherwise. When Jenna and I moved my bedding to the buttery, I concluded that we must discuss this unspoken matter.”

  He gingerly lowered himself into the remaining chair. “I thought you shared Mael’s chamber.”

  “Not at present.” She took from her pocket one of his snare cords and placed it on the table between them. “Yours, I believe. I found it in my bed.”

  Broden didn’t touch it. “Likely dropped when I brought wood.”

  Her brows arched. “There was no need for a fire in there after I joined Mael. Nor could you have dropped it under my blanket, which was rumpled, as if someone had been sleeping there. No, don’t walk away,” she said as he got to his feet. “You agreed to speak plainly. Tell me what you were doing in my room. Why did you climb into my bed?”

  Her directness freed him of all restraint.

  “I put my face to your pillow, and wrapped myself in the blankets.” Broden sat back down. “’Twas to smell your scent, and ken if ’tis the same as the lover in my dreams, the lady I left behind in the underworld.”

  She blinked. “Do you mean to say that I am she?”