Celtic Fury (29 page)

“Nothing will keep Ruiri away. No amount of danger. He took the ancient binding rite. He will not break it,” Morag said adamantly. Caleb looked at Morag.

“Old woman, do ye sense danger for my son? Is he in trouble?” She concentrated, as she had done since his brothers had returned. Frowning, so that the wrinkles in her face deepened, she said, “I do not know. I canna’ feel him. T’is like he is blocked. I dunna feel that he is hurt or…worse, but something is wrong. He has blocked me…Caleb…that means the darkness fills his heart again.” 

Caleb knew that Morag’s gift of Sight was strong and so too, he knew that when Rory felt the darkness, he would block himself off to protect others from experiencing the supposed taint. Only Caleb knew that the only one who really needed protection from that “darkness” was Rory himself.

Rory confused grief and pain with a supposed darkness that was just his own. His son was not the monster legend had made him out to be. Sure, he was a strong fighter, driven to the fray at any cost, but Caleb knew Rory never abused those he loved when he was in the throes of the Darkness.

Caleb ran his hand through his hair. By God, he was tired. Blowing out his breath in a heavy sigh he said, “Alright. Well, I will go into the highlands and find him.” Morag softened her stance and said, “Ye’ must rest a wee bit and then go. Ye’ look tired, Caleb.” 

When she called him by his name, he knew she was trying to make amends for being so gruff.

“The sooner I set out, the sooner I find my son and help him and the sooner he will be able to bring Brielle home.” 

“A few hours will not change things. Ye’ will be of no use if ye’ dunna’ rest. I will send up a bath fer ye’.” Caleb nodded. She was right. He did need a rest, only he could not get Brielle out of his mind. That lost look in her eyes, like one who’s spirit was broken. He had seen it often in his own son.

Ah, Ruiri, where are ye’ lad? Yer’ girl needs ye
’
.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

             
It had been nearly two and half weeks that Rory was the reluctant “guest” of the MacDougal. He worked with the men tirelessly during the day and at night after his
evening
meal, he would be locked in his quarters to prevent him from leaving during the night. Except for the confinement, he was actually well treated. The men accepted his commands and looked to him for leadership. ‘Course, they were instructed to obey by the MacDougal. Still, Rory was actually amazed that they considered him their captain. Never the less, he was restless. He paced around his bedchamber, filled with frustrated energy despite the long hours in training. He should, by all rights, be exhausted, but he was not. Brielle was in trouble. He knew it.

             
Every time he tried to reach out to her in his mind, he felt that squeezing around his heart. It felt like her heart was broken. He had to find out what had happened to his love. He had to save her. His very life depended on it. He felt the darkness creeping back into his soul. Brielle’s light and love had dispelled it.
Without her presence, it easily found a home within him.

He prayed silently, “Please be alright. Please dunna’ die.” But as he said those words, he felt like she had somehow suffered not a physical death
,
but a spiritual one of sorts. Rory tried to clear his mind and tap into the old ways. He pushed back the darkness
as best he could
and he tried to see her in his mind. He had an image of his Brielle staring blindly out a window, lifeless, not dead, but barely living. There was that painful squeezing around his heart again. It caused him to suck in his breath. It was causing physical pain to his heart.

Who had broken his Brielle’s spirit? As he formed the question, he knew the answer in his own heart. Campbells! Pain seared in his chest again as he realized his heart was one with hers. How could the Campbells have hurt her? How could his father have let it happen? Rory paced about, feeling his rage surface to full potent. He would speak to MacDougal in the morning. He had to make a plea for Brielle’s sake. Rory flopped onto the bed, thinking that sleep would be elusive, but he sank quickly into slumber, finally succumbing to the physical exhaustion of the day.

~The mists swirled around Rory. He could feel the unnatural coolness around his legs.

“Caitlyn.”

He felt her emerge before seeing her. For a moment he felt her pain of that horrible day all over again. He was lying on the cold ground, wounded. It was that day, so many years ago, only the arrow was in his heart, not hers. She stood before him, pale and beautiful.

“Am I dying, Caitlyn?”

“Ye’ will die, if yer heart dies, Ruiri. Please hurry.” 

“Brielle?”

“Those who pierced me have her. She has no more hope.”

Caitlyn came to him, leaned in and kissed Rory’s cheek. She pulled the arrow from his heart and he expected to feel the pain and agony of it, but he only felt numbness and a cold dread. Caitlyn helped him to his feet and she handed him the arrow.

“Hurry, Ruiri. Ye are not the only one the darkness threatens. It threatens her now. She will die if you dunna' hurry. If she does. . . so will ye'. Their evil runs deep.”

“But who…” 

As Caitlyn faded, the wind whispered, “Campbell.”~ 

Rory woke with a start. He was drenched in a cold sweat. That was it then. Brielle’s brothers had her. Thinking about the horrible scar she bore that was all too close to her jugular, Rory remembered: They had almost killed her once. They would try again especially if they knew she had become his lover and mate. It would not matter if they had taken the ancient vows. They would surely see it as dishonor. Dear God, they would kill her simply for having kissed him! Morning was slow in coming. He had to make a bargain with his captor.
Brielle’s life depended on it.

“
Hold on my love, I will come for ye’.”

Rory ached to hold her and to feel her in his arms. He needed her but his desires were quelled by the feeling of her danger and it was most important to get her to safety.

After an eternity of a night; at long last, morning finally broke
.A
fter hours of sleeplessness, Rory could hear his guard sliding the bar on his chamber door free. Rory leapt for the door practically knocking the jailer out of th
e way. Turning back he called,
“Where is the Laird?”

“Busy in his chambers but ye cann
a
'. . . .” 

“I
can
and I will.” 
             

Rory strode down the corridor; his long legs quickening his stride to the master chambers of the keep. He was stopped by a man servant, but Rory pushed passed him. A personal guard stood before the heavy doors, barring his way.

“I need to speak with the laird
,”
Rory demanded.

“He is busy.”

The guard made the mistake of pushing a finger into Rory’s chest. Without thinking, Rory’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Rory didn’t even give the guard a second thought. He pounded on the doors.

“Who is it?”

“Rory MacCollum.”

“I am busy.”

Undaunted, Rory pounded harder on the door, his anger and frustration fueling his ire.

“So help me God, MacDougal, open this feckin’ door or I will break it from its hinges.”

To emphasize his point, Rory threw his weight against the door and it indeed groaned under the assault. Another slam and there was a cracking noise. Rory would smash it to splinters if given the chance.

Finally, a disgruntled Stephen MacDougal flung the doors wide. Rory had obviously disturbed him with some girl and that only fanned Rory’s anger. While he cooled his heels for the likes of the MacDougal clan, Brielle was in eminent danger and here was MacDougal dallying with some maid. His fury nearly exploded.

“Ye’ had better explain yerself.”

“I am done being yer puppet MacDougal. While I inflict the discipline yer’ clansmen need to become fighters, ye’ are holed up with some doxie. T’is time to take responsibility for yer
’
clan. I have my own responsibilities to my family. My woman is in trouble. I dunna’ want to say how I know it, but it is so. Ye’ can kill me if ye’ want, but I am leaving. The way I see it, ye’ need me alive to help ye’, so here is my plan. Let me go home. Let me take care of my business and I
will
come back to help ye’ with yer’ men. I will even promise some of my clan to aid ye'. Ye’ have my word and my wo
rd is my honor, but either way,
I am leaving.”

“I could have ye’ imprisoned.”

“But what use would I be to ye’ then? The way I see it, in the best interest of yer’ clan t’would be to let me go.”

Stephen glanced back at the lass in his bed. He said, “Lassie, ye’ best go. I need to finish this matter.”

The girl pouted, but wrapped herself in a plaid and sauntered past Rory. She had the audacity to look at Rory with pure lust, right in front of the MacDougal. Rory rolled his eyes. Doxies were all the same. He was amazed that he actually found that distasteful as of late. He had had his fair share over the years since Caitlyn had died. In fact, t’was more his style than bedding a lass who could fall in love with him, but since having Brielle love him, the mere thought of tupping a lass like that made him want to puke. The guard was back on his feet and was coming towards Rory. Stephen said, “That will be all. Ye' are relieved.” Rory followed Stephen into his chambers and watched him shut the doors.

“Have a seat, Rory.” Rory thought to stand, but then took a seat at a table when the MacDougal sat across from him.

“Ye’ need to tell me how ye’ know she is in danger. Ye’ve had no missives. No one even knows ye’ are here.”

“I just know.” 

“Then if ye’ dunna’ convince me, why should I believe yer’ word? We shall have nothing further to discuss.”

Rory felt that errant muscle flexing in his jaw. He said, “It doesna’ matter if ye’ believe me or not. I am leaving and as I said, I may die trying, but ye’ would lose on all grounds, because once my clan learns of my fate, they will surely avenge me. No longer will ye’ be just a rival clan, but a sworn enemy and I promise ye’, they will not rest till yer clan is razed. A blood feud will ensue. And yer’ men are not strong enough yet to be victorious against MacCollum!” Stephen pondered his words and while they were insulting, Stephen knew Rory was telling the truth. His clan would be razed and his men were too undisciplined to muster to the cause.

“How do I know once ye’ are relea
sed that won’t happen anyway?”
Rory looked horrified.

“By God, did ye’ plan
to keep me prisoner forever?”
Stephen MacDougal looked abashed.

“In truth I didna’ think that far ahead. I knew I needed one of ye' to help my ranks. Happening upon ye’ was my plan best laid. Yer’ work with my men has been quite remarkable.”  Rory sighed heavily.

“I’ve got to get to my girl.” He nearly choked on his next statement, “The Campbell dogs have her.”  MacDougal grunted in disgust.

“But she is a Campbell. How ye’ could fall in love with one of those is beyond me.” It was common knowledge that Stephen’s clan hated the Campbells as much as the MacCollums.

“She is an angel…kind of heart and beautiful. She is not like those demon spawns. I suspect she is a half sibling, although she has never said as much. It just does not seem possible she is fully blooded to them. They have abused her throughout her entire life. And now they have her again.”

“But ye dunna’ know that for sure.” 

“I do! Look, many clans dunna’ follow the Old Ways any more, but I…still have ties to it and my bloodline still has the ancient gifts of
Instinct.”

“Ye’ mean, ‘The Sight’?”

Rory nodded and swallowed hard. Many now felt that those pagan ways were devil born. Some even thought it was
the markings of
insanity.

“It’s more than the Sight. It is a tie to the ancient world both present and past. Some
of those who have gone before,
bring us messages and warnings…portents of danger.”

“Are ye tellin’ me ye see ghosties, Rory MacCollum?”

Rory’s eyes lowered. Even speaking it, it sounded insane, but what else could he say but the truth. His sighed heavily and said, “Just one, actually. T’is my fault, really. I never let her go and now she is earthbound. The Campbells killed her on my way to my wedding.”

“Aye, I remember that. T’was a long time ago. Many seasons have passed since that time.”

“Aye t’was a long time ago…but it confirmed my fears last eve. I mean, I have been feeling Brielle’s harm since my…arrest.”

Stephen MacDougal stood up and poured them both a drink of mulled mead. Rory thought that he looked strangely pale.

“I dunna’ like trifling with the spirit world.”

“Aye and my neglect has kept that doorway opened. So
ye see, I must save my Brielle.
Mayhap once she is safe, that doorway can be closed.”