Mary Reed McCall (26 page)

T
he stench slammed into him, making his stomach tighten. Duncan forced himself to take shallow breaths as Colin shoved him the rest of the way down the narrow corridor, into the bowels of the dungeon, trying to concentrate on anything but the dark reality of where this little journey was going to end. They’d not seen another living soul along the way, a fact that had surprised him; if Morgana had any followers, they weren’t large in number, and that gave him hope that Kinnon could overcome any there were and face Aileana, if Duncan was still imprisoned here come nightfall.

His brother’s torch shone off of the wet slime on the walls as he pulled Duncan along, the wavering light revealing all of the filth and rot that coated the floor and lay caked along the edge of the passage. With every step, Duncan heard the skittering of rats running for safety from the sudden illumination.

Yet it was better than the dark.

A sharp pain sliced into his shoulders, as Colin yanked him to a halt from behind.

“We’re here. I chose your new home with care, Duncan, to ensure that your stay would be everything you deserve.”

He unlocked a massive door, turning the key in its rusty slot. Without hesitation he shoved Duncan into the unyielding wood. It opened against the force of their weight, and Duncan stumbled to his knees inside the chamber, landing in a pile of straw that reeked of excrement. When something squirmed against his leg, he jerked upright, choking back the growl that rose in his throat.

Swinging around to face the doorway, he instinctively lunged forward, but with his hands still bound, he had no weapon other than his own momentum. Colin grunted at the impact, then recoiled in time to land a glancing blow to Duncan’s jaw. The shock of it sent Duncan careening into the wall, a blinding pain radiating through his head and neck.

Before he could recover, another hit slammed into his midsection. He doubled over, feeling the edge of Colin’s blade against his arm. With barely a whisper the blade sliced. His arms were dragged over his head, and the cold steel of shackles clamped onto him, securing him with his back pressed against the wall.

“Damn you, Colin,” he muttered, coughing and trying to regain both his voice and his breath. “Will you never fight like a man?” His chest heaved, and as if from a distance, he heard the muffled sound of his own blood dripping to the straw.

Colin stood a few paces away, holding his torch aloft in one hand, his other hanging loose at his side. Even in the damp chamber, his muscular arms gleamed with
sweat, and he breathed heavily from the effort it had taken to subdue Duncan. The startled expression on his face was the only sign that he’d heard him. But that emotion shifted quickly to bitterness, and then to anger.

“Codes of honor do not affect me,
brother
. They have not from the day that Farqhuar MacRae denied me as his heir.”

Duncan’s jaw tightened. “You’re still a MacRae, whether either of us likes it or no. Da acknowledged you as his son. We were raised as brothers in every way.” Colin remained silent, and his obstinacy made Duncan’s anger flare. “Christ, can you overlook all of those years? We did everything together. I trusted my life to you, then, and you to me!”

“We may have been together in much else, Duncan, but we were not together in
legitimacy
. Da made that clear when he overlooked me in naming his heir.”

Duncan clenched his jaw. It was what he’d always known. The shadow that had always lurked between them. He’d accepted its ugly truth long ago, but he’d never seen it in his brother’s eyes. Never until the day Mairi had died. His gaze locked with his brother’s again, part of him filled with a hate spawned by the horror of the last thirteen years, another piece of him sickened by the circumstances and the suffering that had led them to this.

“Da did what was needed when he made his choice,” Duncan answered, his voice low and steady. “You know as well as I that the clan would not have accepted you as their leader. Not with the knowledge of what your mother was.”

“Aye, I was told as much from the time I was a lad.” He sneered. “But I did not accept it, then or now, which is why we’re here today.” He looked as if he might say
something more, but then he shook his head and barked a laugh. “It is pointless to discuss further.” He walked to the door, and the light of his torch flickered, then seemed to dim.

Duncan’s muscles contracted. His mouth went dry.
God it was going to happen again
. As soon as Colin left, the dark would come, and the nightmare would swallow him whole. Strong. He had to stay strong. He’d resist the horror.
Sweet Jesu, he’d have to resist if he was going to survive
.

Colin stood in the doorway, and Duncan could see that he relished the prospect of the torment he was about to unleash. With slow deliberation he transferred the torch from his left hand, which was still in the chamber, to his right hand in the hall.

The effect was immediate. Gloom swept over Duncan, the last precursor of utter black, and with it a cold terror that seemed to grip his innards, twisting and wrenching without mercy. He pressed himself harder against the cold stone, struggling to stay calm, to keep his expression even. He’d be damned if he’d allow Colin to have even a morsel of satisfaction in this sick game. He could stay strong, as long as there was even a little light. Until his brother walked down the hall and took that final bit of salvation with him.

Duncan strained to see in the darkness as Colin leaned into the chamber one last time. “Enjoy your solitude, Duncan. You can be sure I’ll be thinking of you while I’m enjoying myself aboveground.”

He saw a last, flashing glimpse of white as Colin grinned, and then the door slammed, the lock grated shut…

And it surrounded him. Stifling, choking. Wrapping him like a grave shroud. Panic hit almost immediately,
made worse by the fact that his hands were secured to the wall. At least when Aileana had locked him in the storage chamber he’d been able to lash out with his fists. It was how he’d gained his freedom. Now he was completely helpless to fight it.

He felt his breath come faster, steeled himself against the dizzying whirl of images, the brutal phantasms that began to form, creeping out of the dark to beset him. He slammed his head back against the hard stone, gritting his teeth as they attacked, blocking his lungs until his chest began to burn with the need to take in air. But still they came. Relentless.
God, no. Not again, not again…

His eyes squeezed shut, and in the blackness of his own vision, he was surprised to see a tiny light. A thought he’d all but ignored in his dread of what was to come. It wavered and took shape, gaining strength, and Duncan focused on it in desperation, latching onto it. It came as a whisper, reminding him of how he’d gained his freedom once while buried in the blackness. Reminding him of what he had to lose if he didn’t find a way now. In his mind’s eye he saw Aileana, her pale, still form stretched out on the pallet. The image flashed into his thoughts, giving him added courage and strength.

He could do it. And not just for himself, this time, but also for Aileana. To free them both from the prisons that held them.

With a growl that built into a roar, Duncan tightened every muscle in his back, chest and arms, flexing all of his strength against the hard rock and chain. He felt the manacles bite into his wrists as he pulled, endured the cutting pain that made the blood flow faster down his arm. He heard a harsh rattle, the grinding, metallic sound of his bonds, as they strained to keep their moor
ings within the stone wall against his yanking and tugging.

The chains held.

Duncan paused to rest, his breath harsh, in the silence. He kept his eyes shut against the blackness, willing himself to focus only on the goal before him. On the reason he needed to succeed. Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and pulled again. And again. And again. Until the weakening chains groaned and screeched.

And began to bend.

“Damn you, Morgana.” Aileana hunched over, her head cradled in her palms. The throbbing in her skull intensified as she spoke, so she left off condemning her sister.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so abused.” Morgana leaned against the wall near Aileana, her arms folded. “It’s not as if I gave you something deadly. If anything my actions protected you.” She sniffed and looked away, feigning a concern that Aileana knew to be superficial at best.

Squinting at her in light that pained her eyes, Aileana scowled. “How do you think giving me that potion was protection?”

“I made sure that you did not have to see something you’d have certainly thought…unpleasant.” Morgana gave her enigmatic answer with a kind of muted glee, making tingles of worry slide down Aileana’s back.

“What are you talking about?” Her headache made it difficult to think, and she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. “Be plain or do not speak to me.”

“Oooh…” Morgana made an exaggerated gesture. “You’ve gained defiance in the months since you crawled from beneath the weight of Father’s fist, haven’t you?”

“Do not mock me.”

“It is just surprising. Duncan never struck me as being the gentle sort. I’d have thought you apt to cower even more under his authority, especially considering that he made you his leman.”

She said the last bit with a tone of superiority that brought Aileana to her feet. She faced her sister, trying to stand firm against the wave of dizziness that swept over her. “Duncan may be many things, Morgana, but tyrannical is not one of them.”

“How touching. Such faith in a man. I would not have deemed you quite so naive, despite your years of seclusion.”

“Believing in Duncan is not foolish.”

“I’m so glad that is how you feel. It will make everything that much more…satisfying.” Morgana’s brow arched wickedly, and she paused, the silence pregnant with an emotion Aileana couldn’t name. Then, as if she’d suddenly decided to tell a secret, Morgana murmured, “Did you really think I’d waste my time keeping you alive without profiting by it?”

Aileana made a scoffing sound, then groaned as the effort sent a stabbing ache behind her eyes. “I don’t know what game you play, Morgana, and I don’t care. You disgust me, with your plans and plots. It is all for evil.” She straightened, determined to show a strong front. “Didn’t your spies tell you that I’ve spent the last decade trying to be sure that everyone realized I’m nothing like you?”

“Mayhap it would have been better for you if you were,” Morgana snapped. “As it stands, your stupidity has made you a lure for catching the one person you’d most wish to keep safe.” She grinned. “But now I have him and you, too. It’s only a matter of what I’m to do
with you both after I’ve had my fun.” Swinging a key on a silken rope, Morgana swayed to the door.

“Wait!” Dread filled Aileana as Morgana stopped, turning to her with a smirk.

“Ach, I’ve finally gotten your attention, have I?” She shook her head and made a clicking sound.

Aileana kept silent, driven to let the taunt pass by her need to know if what she feared was true.

Morgana’s expression took on a diabolic light. “I think you know what I’m saying to you.” A slow smile spread across her face. “The truth is that your beloved Duncan is here as we speak. Secure in the dungeon below and suffering the torments of the damned.”

When Aileana sucked in her breath with horror, Morgana laughed. “The greater beauty of it is that I got him to surrender without a fight. He came in alone, without Kinnon or any of the others.”

“Why would he do something like that?” Aileana breathed the question, not wanting to believe Morgana’s lies, not wanting to hear any more. She knew better than anyone that Duncan would never have attempted Morgana’s castle alone. Not without good reason. Not unless…

“I offered you as bait, of course. It was why I took his betrothal ring from you, as proof that I had you imprisoned here. I told him that if he wanted to keep you alive, he would go willingly into my dungeon.” She scoffed. “Of course he did. A lamb to the slaughter, it was so easy.”

Sinking to the pallet again, Aileana threaded her fingers together. “Nay,” she whispered. “It cannot be.”

“Aye, Aileana. Revenge is in my blood, as much as any man’s in the Highlands.” Morgana yanked open the door, pausing for an instant to take hold of the bar she
would use to lock it from the outside. “Now all of my plans are complete. After today, I’ll have my vengeance on everyone who tried to stop me,” she skewered Aileana with her gaze, “including you, little sister.”

A shadow passed over her features, then, but vanished before Aileana was even certain she’d seen it. “Enjoy your remaining moments of solitude. You’ll be having a visitor soon enough, while I’m working with the
Ealach
.” A flat smile contorted her face again. “I’m sure you understand.”

And then she was gone, the door locking with a hollow thud of the bar dropping home. A shudder rippled over Aileana, caused by a chill deeper than the temperature of the damp chamber. It was something else…

A tingle of shock shot through her.
Samhain!
Memory snapped back into place, and with it a quick calculation of days. There was no mistake. Today was
Samhain
—the sorceress’s high holy day. The day Morgana would invoke the
Ealach
’s power.

Heaven help her, but she had to free Duncan and stop Morgana before it was too late.

Wrapping her arms round herself, she let her gaze sweep the room. It was empty, but for a small table with two candles and the pallet. A single window broke the monotony of gray wall, its view facing west, if her sense of direction held true. Hurrying over to it, Aileana un-latched the shutter to peer out, hoping to find a means of escape.

Chill wind rushed at her through the casement, almost robbing her of breath with its bite. It forced her to squint to see what lay beyond the castle boundary. She crossed her hands to her shoulders for warmth, gritting her teeth as she stared at the barren landscape of rock and salt-crusted sea grasses that stretched to the edge of
a cliff not thirty paces from the wall. Beyond that she saw waves, their white tips curling above the gray surf. They seemed to pull back and crash, again and again, into the ragged rock that formed the land here. It was as cold and unforgiving a landscape as her sister’s black heart.