Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (20 page)

Bradon’s expression was as dark as the others when he said, “Then, I take it, he controls you.”

“Aye. But not for long. Not if everything is then done in a verra certain way.” She fingered the scrap of leather and looked at Colin. “Because of the connection you and I now have, that you and the
dragon
have, you will know moments before Keir releases half of my soul. When such happens, you will wrap this leather around the hilt of your sword, murmur the words I tell you to, and then whip the blade at Keir.”

Before Colin could speak she shook her head. “I know you wonder if you’ll even be with him at such a time. He will want to be on the tallest battlement so that he’s close to the dragon when it…when
I
take flight. ‘Twill not be difficult for you to be there as well, aye? Mayhap eying the MacLomain’s placement below. Keir trusts you above all else. He will want you up there when the dragon is freed.” Her voice lowered. “If for no other reason than he might better relish the pain on your face when you see all that is lost to you.”

Colin clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “You mean to tell me that a simple sword wrapped in a swath of leather will kill the undefeatable warlock?”

“Nay,” Adlin said. “But ‘twill slow him down some.”

“Then what?” Iosbail asked, totally enraptured.

“Then,” Torra said. “The dragon will afford all a chance to come together at last and fight Keir Hamilton.” Her eyes turned to Grant. “I will make sure you are once more reunited with your Viking sword. Once you have it, you will know what to do.”

Grant arched a brow. “Do you not know then?”

“I only know that the kings wish you to have the sword. Once you do, much will be put into motion.” Torra met his eyes. “The MacLomain chieftain will know what do to. He has been told.”

“Far too much is being left to chance,” Colin muttered.

“Mayhap but this is our only hope.” Her eyes went to Bradon. “And while Grant must have the Viking sword ‘tis equally important that you have the Celtic sword given to you by Adlin. That which was forged beneath a blood moon. ‘Tis of the Celts. ‘Tis also of Fionn Mac Cumhail.”

Bradon didn’t seem overly shocked by that last bit of information. He but gripped the hilt poking over his shoulder and nodded. “It never leaves my side.”

“And Malcolm must have his Dire wolf, Kynan,” she said to Grant.

Grant nodded. “Should your brother Colin be told anything else?”

“Nay. He already knows what to expect.” Her eyes went to the black leather. “May the gift he gave me so long ago protect not a few but many in our darkest hour.”

Her eyes once more swung to the others. “The black leather is a talisman that is verra much a part of me. While it had the power to trap half my soul, so too does it have the power to fight Keir’s control over me. As long as my love’s sword is aimed true, ‘twill lessen if not extinguish the Hamilton’s power over the dragon for a time.”

“I will never aim truer, but even then I cannae imagine the blade getting anywhere near Keir. He will deflect it with his magic if nothing else,” Colin said.

“The leather around the hilt will make your blade special indeed,” Torra assured, her eyes steady on his. “Have faith in such.” 

Colin inhaled deeply. “I dinnae like this one bit but will do as you ask.”

Torra nodded and looked at the others. “If all goes as planned, you will have the aide of the dragon for as long as I can manage.” Her eyes met Grant’s and Valan’s. “You will rally the Hamilton prisoners to our cause and they will follow. In little time the MacLeods that left here will arrive there and those MacLeod prisoners will better ken who they fight for.”

Her eyes flickered between Grant and Colin, saddened. “The only ones we cannae help are the warriors fighting from within the castle. ‘Tis my greatest hope that they come to their senses when put against their friends in battle. Mayhap with Colin rallying them from within and Grant when he gets through the gates, few lives will be lost.”

“Could I not get word to them sooner? Discreetly, of course,” Colin said. “After all, I’ll have a few days and no doubt verra much need the distraction.”

“Nay.” Torra shook her head. “‘Twould be unwise and far too dangerous. Keir could find out. Remember, these warriors fight for their master because they are afraid of him. Too easily could one give him the information so that they might better their station or save their own lives. Not only do they know he’s a powerful warlock but believe him to at last possess the great dragon as well.”

Colin scowled but said nothing more about it.

Torra did her very best to keep emotions at bay, but it was hard as her eyes met each and every one of theirs. “I’m afraid ‘tis time for us to go but I will forever be grateful that you were here to celebrate with me during such a momentous occasion.”

Meyla surprised Torra when she bowed then pulled her into a tight embrace. “You are fierce my dragon kin. Embrace courage and fight well.” She pulled back and eyed her. “I return to Scandinavia now but will remain forever grateful that I had this chance to meet you.”

“And I you.” Torra realized that though Adlin had said otherwise, Meyla didn’t come here to impart more information about the sword but to meet more of her kin.

Next came Valan. The dark depths of his eyes churned with emotion as he held her at arm’s length. “I will always love ye, Torra and am so verra proud. Know that my blade and magic will be at your back as we fight Keir together.” His eyes covered her face and he squeezed her arms gently. “Remember even when within the dragon, ye are never alone.”

Torra sensed he wished to embrace her but did not out of respect for Colin.

Valan turned to the MacLeod and clasped arms with him, hand to elbow. “Ye have the Hamiltons behind ye all the way. Dinnae doubt it for a second.” Then his voice went murmur soft. “Take good care of our lass, aye?”

“Aye, ye can bet your life on it,” Colin said.

Sheila and Leslie soon pulled Torra into a teary group embrace and held on tight.

“Kick Keir’s nasty, rotten ass, dragon lady,” Leslie murmured.

“Because if you don’t we will,” Sheila mumbled.

The moment they let her go, Bradon wrapped her up in his arms and squeezed her so tight the breath left her lungs. “I love you so much, sister. I willnae let you down. Stay safe, fly well and be mighty.”

Grant, like her, was clearly determined to keep his emotions at bay. But she heard the hoarseness in his voice when he leaned his forehead against hers and murmured, “Ye are ready for this, my kin. We are
all
ready for this. Embrace all that ye have become my powerful Scot and untouchable dragon.” Then he cupped her cheeks, his already pale gray-blue eyes lightening more so. “We’ve years ahead of us yet, lass. I will see ye well at the end of the war and we will toast our whiskey to a battle well fought and evil at last defeated.”

Torra could not help the tear that slid free as she whispered, “Aye.”

“Aye,” he whispered back.

He looked into her eyes for another long moment, lending strength, before he turned to Colin. The men didn’t bother shaking hands but embraced. When Grant pulled away, he said nothing but squeezed his friend’s shoulders. The singular look they exchanged said far more than mere words could.

Last but certainly not least was Adlin and Iosbail.

Aldin squeezed her hands, his eyes momentarily aglow in magic before they returned to normal. “Dinnae doubt yourself for even a moment, lass. You have already made your clan so verra proud and will continue to do so. Know that I love you like you were my own bairn. Go become your dragon and fight your war.” He offered her a whimsical grin. “But be sure to have a wee bit o’ fun with it. You might be surprised how the dragon will likely respond.”

The arch-wizard certainly had a knack for easing a heavy heart. She nodded and smiled. “Aye, I will try.”

Adlin embraced her then turned to Colin. “Though they were not always a bad lot I can safely say you’ve taken the best of the MacLeod bloodline. Our clans were always meant to be weaved through time. Glad I am that you were the result of some of your more questionable ancestors. ‘Tis a good seed ye are, Colin MacLeod.” His lips curled up a wee fraction and Torra swore he winked in an almost co-conspirator fashion. “And might ye have many wee bairns made of both MacLomain and MacLeod blood.”

The men shook hands and Colin nodded. “‘Twas an honor to meet you, Adlin.”

Iosbail wasted no time but pulled Torra into a hearty embrace. “How did ye think for even a moment I wouldnae be there for ye lass?”

Yet something happened when Iosbail embraced her.

A spark of magic.

Not time travel by any means but a vision of sorts…

King Erc, Iosbail’s foster father, swung up in her mind’s eye and she knew Iosbail saw him as well. Tremors rippled through her as both she and Iosbail looked into a window created by the Celt.

Then, just as swiftly, they were standing on a rocky shore in the north of Scotland.

Thunder and lightning rumbled and flashed over the angry sea. Far off, she could see several boats and a raging battle. Iosbail and Torra glanced at one another, surprised.

“It looks like we’ve taken a wee bit o’ a detour, lass.” Then Iosbail’s eyes widened on the ocean. “‘Tis my brother fighting out there.”

“Aye, so it seems.” Torra knew full well that Adlin fought alongside Alan Stewart and Caitriona. Though this had happened in her own past it was still in Iosbail’s future. She also knew this event was closely interconnected with Iosbail’s love, Alexander Sinclair. So why were they here?

“I wonder who they are.” Iosbail nodded toward a handful of men left on the shore.

It was clear the group could not see Torra and Iosbail.

Because of King Erc’s magic they could hear the group of men speaking, especially the tall, dark-haired man staring with fury out over the ocean. Torra narrowed her eyes. Gods did he look familiar. Like Valan…but not.

Her body all but froze over.

It could not be.

“My Da is defeated,” the man ground out.

“Nay,” a warrior said. “We will go help him.”

But the young man shook his head, evil glowing in his eyes. “Nay, all is lost. Time for us to go.”

Then all disappeared. Not only the men on the shore but the ships at war on the sea.

Nothing remained but Iosbail and Torra.

Then, bit by bit, a man emerged from a newborn fog as he walked toward them. Tall, broad shouldered, with deep brown eyes and dark hair, he wore a rich burgundy cloak held together at the neck with a gold broach. A crown sat upon his head.

Iosbail squeezed Torra’s hand as if she tried to ground herself. Her choked voice was barely audible when she said, “Da?”

“Aye, me wee lassie,” King Erc said and wrapped Iosbail in his arms when she flew to him.

Iosbail buried her face in her father’s chest and sobbed. King Erc hung his head and held fast to his daughter. Never before had Torra witnessed such a profound moment. Though it seemed a long time in this strange otherworld in which they’d traveled to, it was likely a blip of a second before Erc pulled back and looked into Iosbail’s eyes.

“Your Ma and I are so verra proud of you.”

“Is she here then?” Iosbail looked around him.

“Nay.” He shook his head. “You did not travel through time in the common sense. Because of the fold in time created by Torra, I used a wee bit o’ Celtic magic so that we might have these moments and you might see what needed to be seen.”

Iosbail’s wet eyes met his. “I’m so verra sorry I left ‘Eire without saying goodbye. I never meant to hurt you and Ma.”

King Erc stroked her cheek, eyes tender. “You but did what you had to. Like all of us, you were part of a grand design.”

She shook her head, voice more sure by the moment. “Hence forth I will lead my life differently. I will make ye prouder!”

Wisdom shone in Erc’s eyes. “You will live your life as it was meant to be and remember this moment betwixt us only much, much later in your life.”

“Then why do it?” Iosbail asked, pained.

“Because I could not help myself. Because after all is said and done, I’ve but a human heart beating in my chest.”

“Aye,” Iosbail murmured. “As seems do we all even if born of magic.”

King Erc gave his daughter a soft smile then his eyes went to Torra and he nodded. “‘Tis good to see you beyond the plane betwixt Heaven and Hell.”

Torra smiled. “Aye, ‘tis.”

He took her hands with a warm smile on his lips. “Though you’ve been told how you must defeat him, know that you fight an old enemy lass. One that has plagued the Dalriada and MacLomains for far too long. Once known as Eoghan Dubhdiadh, Druid of the South in ‘Eire, he was an unnatural creature who though I had killed, once more found his way into reincarnates. For his need and lust for my Druidess, Chiomara, he has plagued my kin, the MacLomains in several forms, the latest in Innis MacGilleEathain’s son who you just saw on this beach.”

King Erc stared deeply into her eyes. “Did you recognize him then?”

Torra’s breath caught. “Keir Hamilton?”