Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) (25 page)

Bloody hell right she would.

Torra strode over, content to have Colin hold Keir in place. Calm hatred simmered as she stared into the eyes of the man who had made her life pure hell for far too long. She kneed him hard where Colin had just done him so much damage and Keir again cried out in pain. “That is for all the harm ye’ve done to Grant over the years.”

Then she did it again. “For years of cruelty to your son, Valan.”

Then again harder than before. “And for enslaving my love, Colin MacLeod.”

By this time Colin was all but holding him up.

Then she did it again. “For the harm ye’ve caused all in my clan and those beneath your rule.” An abnormal sound of pain had started to come from Keir’s chest as she delivered one more knee thrust to the groin. “And that is for
ever
thinking ye could possess the dragon.”

“Good girl,”
King Naðr said proudly.

“Aye, ‘tis good indeed,”
King Erc echoed.

Colin once more used fiery magic to seal the bleeding wound, but Torra noticed he’d locked in the pain of castration so that it would forever plague Keir.

Then it was Grant’s turn.

Colin and Torra stepped aside as Keir’s magic again tried to flare to life in zipping black shards around him.

“Kill me then,” Keir taunted.

“Och, nay. Your soul willnae be returning to haunt the MacLomains anymore,” Grant muttered. A quiet yet lethal storm simmered in his eyes. All followed as he grabbed Keir by the hair and dragged him up the stairs of the MacLomain castle. Half the time the Hamilton stumbled, but that didn’t slow Grant in the least.

Though his voice was a low rumble, all could hear Grant’s words as he pulled him into the great hall. “Ye’ll not get the physical abuse from me, Hamilton. Nay, ye’ll get something far, far worse.”

The many faces carved into the mantle above the great hearth had movement and life. Even Adlin’s and Iosbail’s could be seen as all the spirits of MacLomains gone chanted the same thing.

“
Hostis est tempus nostrum, quia evacuatur captus infra animam Viking aeternum bonum
. The time has come for our evil enemy to fade, a soul forever caught beneath Viking blade.” 

All continued to follow Grant as he dragged Keir toward the huge Viking tapestry. For hundreds of years it had overseen the MacLomain clan. Waiting. With nothing but storminess and a raging sea beyond, a heavily armored, horn helmeted Viking ran his sword though a man on bent knees begging for mercy. The tapestry was so well woven that the viewer clearly saw the look of triumph through the thin slices of metal that adorned the victors' head.

Grant and Torra began to chant the same thing as the faces in the mantle.

Thunder cracked overhead as not only the raging storm but the Viking within the tapestry started to have movement. Keir’s eyes widened and for the first time, genuine fear lit his dark eyes.

As they all now knew…the Viking was none other than Naðr Véurr.

His deep voice rumbled over the hall as he looked down at Torra and Grant. “It is time. Yet one of yours must come to see both sides of the seal secured.”

What was the king speaking of? This had never been mentioned. Not once. A chill raced down her spine. “I dinnae ken.”

Grant closed his eyes briefly then his pained gaze met hers. It seemed he sensed something. But then it had been his magic that helped hang this tapestry to begin with when he traveled back in time to the 9
th
century to visit the MacLomain castle.

“Only true love can contain such evil for all eternity,” Grant murmured.

His eyes turned damp. “Keir’s dark soul has long craved the MacLomains but most especially the dragon…you. There are naught but those on this side of the tapestry who love you such.” His eyes flickered to Colin MacLeod then back to her. “It cannae be a MacLomain on the other side but the love of a man unrelated.”

Torra’s heart seized and she shook her head. “Nay, it cannae be.”

“Aye,” Grant said softly. “Your love must go through the tapestry and live out his life in 9
th
century Scandinavia with the Viking’s clan.”

Naðr Véurr again spoke. “There is little time if you mean to trap he who has haunted you for so long.”

Torra continued shaking her head even when Colin took her hands and stood in front of her. When she tried to back away, to deny the moment, he wrapped an arm around her lower back and cupped her head so that she had to look at him.

His words were compassionate but firm. “I told ye I would always protect ye, my lass, aye?” When she made to speak, he cut off her words with more of his own. “If this is the only way to free ye and your clan of Keir Hamilton for good then ‘tis something I will do without hesitation.”

“Nay,” she said hoarsely, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I cannae be without ye again. Dinnae ask it of me.”

He stroked her cheek gently, words gruff as he gazed into her eyes. “I am not asking of ye, lass. ‘Twill simply be such.”

How could this possibly be happening? Her heart was breaking in half.

“Please dinnae go,” she said as a sob broke from her chest.

“It cannae be any other way,” he whispered. “Enjoy the years of peace ahead. Love your clan well and see that the MacLeods stay true to the future I envisioned for them.”

Torra could barely breathe when his lips brushed lightly over hers. “I will always love ye, my twin soul and will find ye again in another life.”

Before she could speak, he put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “No more words.”

Then he turned away.

“Wait.” Torra’s eyes widened when Valan put a hand on Colin’s shoulder and shook his head. “I will go.”

Though Colin and Grant looked at him confused, Valan turned his attention to her. As Colin just had, he took her hands. Torra was surprised by the passion in his intense gaze when he said, “‘Twas an impressive bit o’ magic you used at the Broun castle when the four of us saw within one another’s minds.”

His eyes grew a little sad. “But you didnae take into account that I am a warlock. My dark magic gives me the ability to hide what I dinnae want seen from a wizard or even a dragon whose power embraces white magic.”

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Aye.” He cupped her cheek. “There was never another lass. ‘Twas a lie said to free you. Though I didnae yet know of Colin, I knew the love you had for me wasnae the same I felt toward you. I hoped mayhap with mention of another lass you’d see a love within your own heart that you didnae realize was there.” A wry twist came to his lips. “Then I found out about you and Colin and knew ‘twould never happen. Too clearly did I see the love betwixt you.”

Before she could speak, he continued. “Though jealous, I should have never caused you and yours so much harm.” His eyes went briefly to Colin then back to her. “Especially my friend and the lass I claimed to love.”

He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “You see without him knowing, I learned of you through Keir. ‘Twas always his way to assume my powers were weak. Yet they were not. At least not so corrupt with black magic. Regardless, I learned of his dark desire for you and finally decided that I would seek you out. Never could I have guessed that I’d fall in love.” Valan sighed. “‘Twas always my intention to tell you of Keir but when I saw the love betwixt you and Colin, darkness settled in my heart. Then you know what happened after that.”

“I am so
verra
sorry for the things I did.” Valan shook his head. “Let me do this to make up for all misdeeds. There is nothing left here for me now, but there
is
for Colin. Might your love flourish and you make lots of wee bairns, aye?”

Gods above.
Was this truly happening? Torra couldn’t stop the tears. What a great mess of things they’d all made. So though she shook her head, she whispered, “Aye.”

“Come soon,” the Viking boomed.

Valan looked at her for a long moment. “Good then.”

Before he could turn away, she stood on tip-toes and kissed his cheek gently. “Thank you so verra much, my friend.”

Valan nodded, eyes tender before he turned to Colin and held out his hand. “Might ye live long and love well.”

Colin eyed him for a moment. Though this latest bit of news was difficult to hear, the MacLeod at last pushed past his grievances and shook his hand. After all, Valan was making the final sacrifice so that they could be together. “Many thanks, my friend. Stay safe, aye?”

Valan brushed away the comment with a grin. “What are a few Vikings when up against a highlander?”

The storm in the tapestry raged louder and thunder again crashed.

Valan then turned to Grant. “And many apologies to ye as well for the endless harm I caused.”

Colin yanked Keir away to give them a moment.

Grant shook his head. “‘Tis well and truly passed us now. I no longer hold any ill will towards ye. ‘Twas only love at the heart of it all and ‘twill remain such, aye?”

“You’re more forgiving than most, Grant. But ‘tis half of what makes ye so bloody honorable.” Valan shook his hand. “When I leave, the Hamilton clan will need a new laird. One they love and would lead them well into a brighter future than they could likely imagine.” The Hamilton squeezed Grant’s shoulder. “They always loved ye above all. Mayhap ye love them as well?”

Keir muttered something under his breath and Grant nodded to Valan before he yanked the evil bastard away from Colin and gave him a quick uppercut to his stomach. Keir grunted in pain, but Grant gave him no time to recover before pulling him toward the tapestry.

Grant said something to Valan and he nodded.

Meanwhile, the Viking held down his hand.

Valan stopped, looked back at Torra one last time, then turned, ran toward the tapestry and leapt. Naðr Véurr caught his hand and pulled him into the tapestry. Within the flicker of an eye, Valan vanished into the storm beyond.

Then Grant whipped the Viking blade into the tapestry.

Naðr caught it by the hilt and nodded.

All the while the faces in the mantle chanted, as did Torra.

“Now ye’ll be causing no more pain to me and mine, ye bloody arse.” Grant yanked Keir forward one last time and grabbed hold of the bottom of the tapestry. “May ye spend eternity in a purgatory far more painful than hell itself.”

The storm within the tapestry almost seemed to fill the great hall as Grant’s magic started to twist up and around the Viking’s magic. Pure terror filled Keir’s eyes and he screamed as his body shifted into the black inkiness that was his soul. Naðr murmured the same chant and the misplaced soul rushed into the body of the man kneeling at his feet.

With a loud roar, Naðr ran the Viking sword though the man and a screeching cry filled the great hall for several long moments.

Still, Torra heard the kings in her mind for what she knew would be the last time.

“You did so verra well,”
King Erc said.
“Live well and be happy, lass.”

“You showed great courage.”
There was rare emotion in King Naðr’s voice.
“I am proud to call you Viking…even prouder that you are of my dragon blood. Teach the two in your belly well so that they might be as strong as their mother.”

What?
But she had no chance to question him before wind whipped through the great hall and thunder cracked one last time. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the tapestry returned to normal and all depicted within remained frozen in time.

Though it was impossible to see his features, all now knew Keir Hamilton was on bent knees begging for mercy as a Viking drove a sword through him. His evil soul forever trapped in excruciating pain between love and Viking magic. Even if this tapestry was destroyed, Grant and the King’s magic in combination with the sword would never let Keir escape.

Stunned silence settled over the hall.

“Well, ‘tis really not so bad,” Iosbail’s voice came from the mantle.

“Nay,” Adlin remarked. “After all, we got the bad guy.”

“That’s not what I speak of,” Iosbail countered. “Did ye not see the way Valan looked at the Viking lass then?”

“I think everyone saw that,” Adlin started, then stopped abruptly, a grin molding on his face. “Ah, so he trades one love for possibly another?”

“As if ye didnae know all along,” Iosbail muttered.

“Or ye, aye?”

A few in the hall tried to get a word in edgewise, but it was impossible as the siblings squabbled.

“They dinnae know we cannae speak with them,” Iosbail suddenly enlightened.

“Nay, but of course not,” Adlin said as both turned warm smiles to all in the great hall.

“There’s little to say but that I’m proud of ye my MacLomains,” Adlin continued. “Love and rule well our clan.”

“Aye,” Iosbail said. “I’m proud of me Broun lassies. Enjoy your MacLomains. Cocky lot but well worth loving to be sure.”

Iosbail paused and looked at Adlin. “Do ye hear that?”

Adlin paused and listened. “Hear what?”

“I think I hear Ma and Da calling.”

Her brother cocked his head as though listening to something. “Aye, that be them indeed!”

They looked at one another, wide smiles on their faces before the animations once more became solid. But if there was one thing clearly left for all to view at the mantel’s center it was of Adlin MacLomain and his sister Iosbail Broun grinning at one another.

Torra blinked away more tears as Colin pulled her into his arms.

Both shook with relief as he held her.

It was over.

And he was here.

“Thank the gods,” she murmured into his chest as she curled her hands into his tunic.

They stood that way for a long time until she heard Bradon’s soft words. “I set my sword aside for a moment and look what I found around the blade’s tip. I believe this belongs to you.”

When they looked, Bradon held out his hand, palm side up.

Her betrothal ring.

Fionn Mac Cumhail had returned it. What better place to leave it than on the Celtic sword.

Colin grinned and nodded at Bradon. He took the ring and slipped it on her finger, eyes loving. “Like my heart, ‘tis forever yours, lass.”

When his lips closed over hers, she all but sunk through the floor. And their kiss might have never ended if a rather boisterous voice did not interrupt.

“Now that be some hair!”

Torra pulled away and looked with confusion at two she had seen little of in this war. Her uncle Arthur and his daughter, Ilisa.

Ilisa fingered Torra’s hair and held up her dagger. “I’ll get that fixed for ye in no time I will.”

Mortified, Torra pulled away. Arthur chuckled and pulled her in for a tight embrace. “Worry naught, ‘tis just a wee bit singed is all.”

Her eyes flew to Colin, confused. Then she felt her hair.

“Shh, lass, ‘tis nothing to fret over.” He stroked her locks. “You did a lot for your clan including having oil poured over your back then lit on fire.” Colin cleared his throat, a warm but small smile crawling onto his lips. “‘Twas enough so that it seems the burn to your scales became instead a wee bit o’ charring to your hair.”

Leslie, Malcolm and Cadence joined them, Kynan the Dire wolf by their side.

Bradon and Malcolm patted their short hair and shrugged.

“‘Tis a thing that some of us sacrifice more for our clan’s freedom than others,” Malcolm muttered.

“Well, I think you all look amazing,” Cadence said.

“‘Tis easy enough for you to say with all that hair,” Malcolm grunted as he eyed her long red locks with what looked more like blatant lust than anything else.

“Well, I’m bonnie as can be with my short locks, aye?” Ilisa grinned as she eyed Torra’s hair. “Just a wee bit o’ a trim could go a long way.”

“Or,” Grant said as he and Sheila joined them, “I could just do this.”

When Grant brushed a hand down her hair, Torra felt magic tingle over her scalp. And then though not quite as long as it had been, her hair again hung down her back in thick, healthy, non-singed waves.

Ilisa pouted. “Now what fun was there in that?”

“Come, me wee lassie,” Arthur said. “Let’s go find your Ma, aye?”

Torra didn’t hear Ilisa’s response as her father steered her into a thickening crowd.

She embraced Grant and murmured, “Thank you, cousin.”

He held her tightly. “‘Twas the least I could do, lass.”

They stared at one another for a long moment. They had truly come so far.

Yet both felt Malcolm’s eyes on Colin MacLeod and turned wary eyes their way. Though the two had spent time at the Broun castle, they’d done well to avoid one another.

Now was a moment of reckoning.

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed.

So did Colin’s.

Then the most unlikely thing happened.

Malcolm nodded at the dagger at Colin’s hip. “‘Twas a bloody good move when you ran the dagger in battle like you did. I’ve never seen the like.”

Colin grinned and flexed his hand. “‘Tis all in the wrist. I’ll show you if you’d like.”

“Aye,” Malcolm said. “Soon.”

Torra had no idea what transpired between the men when they fought alongside one another, but she wasn’t complaining. This was so entirely unlike Malcolm. Her eyes went to Cadence. She winked at Torra as she started to pull Malcolm away and mouthed, “He’s coming around. Give me time.”

Yet Malcolm wasn’t above shooting Colin a few last words. “Love Torra well, MacLeod, or you’ll never see my blade coming.”

But Colin had no chance to respond before Cadence pulled Malcolm into the crowd.

Within moments, Torra’s kin were embracing her then many more after. Not only immediate family but endless MacLomain clan folk. Then came the MacLeods and Hamiltons that had been transported here with them. Where most of them shook her hand, some weren’t above pulling her close as well. After all, these were hot-blooded Scotsmen.

Eventually, though she’d smiled endlessly, Colin seemed to sense when she was growing weary and said to all still waiting, mostly MacLeods. “Many thanks to ye all for a battle well fought. ‘Twill be years ahead to thank my lass, aye?”

They grinned and nodded. Some responded but stopped short when one voice rose above the rest. “A moment of your time please.”

Her brother and Laird of the MacLomain castle, Colin stood on the landing above holding his wife, Mckayla’s hand. Once the hall quieted, he continued, his words clear and resonating. “Today is a turning point in MacLomain history. A long time enemy has been defeated not just because of the bravery of my clan but because of our many allied clans. Not only that but we are proud to now call two more clans stout allies. Clan Hamilton and Clan MacLeod.” His eyes met not only Colin MacLeod’s eyes, but Grant’s briefly before he raised a mug in the air. “To all who aided in our victory, thank you.”