Dark Rival (23 page)

"Ah, lass, the Masters often sojourn on the isle, an' I think he dinna wish for ye to have a choice of other men."

Allie straightened, keenly interested now. Hadn't her modern Royce mentioned he’d taken his vows on the island? And of course Iona would be the perfect sanctuary, as no demon ever tread upon holy ground. Did Royce really think she’d become interested in another man if she went there?

Allie walked to a stone bench and sat cross-legged. If she needed to provoke Royce by going to Iona, she just might do so.

Malcolm came and sat beside her. "Yer man has asked me to keep ye here an’ to protect ye while he hunts Moffat."

“I know." Allie stopped smiling. "But I'm not staying. Sorry! Dunroch is wonderful, but my place is at Carrick with Royce. He needs me."

Malcolm simply studied her, his gaze searching. “Ye have a good power, Lady. Even sitting next to ye, I be calm an' soothed, I agree—my uncle needs yer light."

"So you’ll tell Royce you won't let me stay here?"

Malcolm sighed. "Lady Allie, I canna deny Royce. He's more father to me than uncle. I vowed to keep ye an' protect ye. I must do so."

Allie was dismayed. "Then I have to work on Royce. How long do I have? When is he leaving?"

"He’ll leave in the morn. Aye, work yer wiles. T’will be interesting to see who's stronger—I dinna think he can resist ye for too long."

Allie was encouraged. But she said. "I hope he told you why he's hunting Moffat?"

"Aye.”

"Did he tell you about his death?"

"Aye. I willna lie, Lady. I have grave worries now. Royce be more powerful than Moffat, but power doesna matter if his Fate is written otherwise."

Allie hugged her knees to her chest. Everyone seemed to think that Royce was going to die on
September 7, 2007
, no matter what. Well, let them be pessimists. She was an optimist and proud of it, and more importantly, she never gave up. She wasn't going to start now. He simply couldn't die that day.

"I see ye care for my blackhearted uncle."

"I love him," Allie said. "Even when he is in his Mad Max mode."

Malcolm seemed bewildered by that. "An' ye wish to ken what?"

 
"I want to know what happened to his wife, when it happened and why he is suffering from so much guilt—and if he is in love with a ghost.”

Malcolm stood. "Ye need to ask Royce such great questions !"

"He won't talk about her." Grim, she said. “He loved her, didn't he? Royce loved a woman with his heart and soul.” She was so dismayed admitting what she'd been secretly afraid of.

Malcolm hesitated. "Royce has never spoken of his wife. T’was long ago.”

Allie bit her lip. "Am I a fool to hope hell ever love me that way?"

Malcolm clasped her shoulder. "Lass, heed me, Royce was a boy of three an’ twenty when he wed. He is a man over eight hundred years old now. Why do ye care about the past?"

Allie pulled away and hugged herself. He'd been so young! She hadn't realized. "Royce loved me in the future. Maybe he can't love me right now, but there's a connection, and it's not just sex."

Malcolm flushed.

"He cares. He's proved it—once or twice." She wiped her eyes. "What happened to his wife? Malcolm, please."

Malcolm caved. "A great deamhanain seized her, tortured her, raped her—for days, maybe weeks, I dinna ken. Royce finally rescued her—an’ handed her to another man, breaking their marriage. Most Masters live alone, Lady Allie. There be a reason the Code requires it. Royce gave up his wife to protect her."

"Oh gods," Allie whispered. "Poor Royce." She sat abruptly, wanting to cry for him. "You have Claire!"

"Aye, an’ I love her greatly. But she's the daughter of a great Master."

"I’m Elasaid's daughter!" Allie cried.

Malcolm sighed. "Lass, I be young, just eight an’ twenty. T’was easy for me to give over to Claire. I dinna ken if Royce loved Brigdhe or if he cared as any husband should. But I dinna think he will ever allow himself to be too fond of any woman again. Are ye certain that in the future he said he loved ye?"

Allie looked up. She was about to say, "Hell yeah” but she stopped. The realization was dreadful, Royce bad never said those three words, not even with his last dying breath.

Malcolm looked at her with pity. “I dinna think my uncle capable of the love ye want, lass. He's hard, aye, but he's older now—an' tired."

And that, Allie thought explained why he'd wanted to die.

CHA PTER TEN

"DO YOU WISH TO GO inside?" Malcolm asked, his tone kind.

Allie was about to refuse. She wanted to sit and think about Royce and his past—and about the present and their future. But before she could even smile at him, a terrible foreboding fell over hen

Dark power.

Allie sat up, alarmed. She had never felt such a huge and impending sense of evil before.

"Lady Allie.”

Allie was on her feet. She didn't look at Malcolm. Evil was coming, like the black clouds blown in before a terrific storm, but this was a cloud of death. The demon or demons had stunning reserves of power. For a moment
 
Allie was unmoving.

"What happens?" Malcolm asked sharply.

Allie glanced at him and saw that he was alarmed. “There is evil coming. Give me a moment."

"I sense nothing!" he said swiftly.

Allie turned away from him, focusing entirely on the approaching darkness, the foreshadowing of destruction and death. Dark and malignant, steadfast and intent... the shadows were marching...like men. overland.. .from the north. Allie finally realized what was coming and she cried out.

She faced Malcolm. “Thirty or forty demons are approaching! But they are not alone, Malcolm. I am certain hundreds of humans are with them—all of them possessed, all with demonic power. And there are animals, too."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "A demonic army attacks Dunroch?"

Allie nodded, aghast. “They're coming from the north— and if my senses work in this time the way they do at home, you have a half an hour to prepare.”

Malcolm had already turned away, shouting to the watch on the small gatehouse tower, and bells began ringing. The entire compound broke into frenzied activity. Allie had been confronting and fighting demons her entire life, but very rarely had she ever run into a gang of them—and then,
 
she’d wisely fled. Usually they perpetrated their crimes of pleasure and death solo.

Men appeared on the walls dragging large, man-size bows into defensive positions; others began rushing up to the ramparts, while fires were started in her ward and elsewhere. Allie came to her senses—the castle was preparing for an attack, and she had to help. She ran through the gatehouse after Malcolm and into the inner ward.

His knights were appearing, some of the Highlanders in chain mail, others in nothing but their leines and plaids, everyone heavily armed. Now, from where she stood, she saw more archers and knights appearing on the walls and the curtain towers. The outer bailey was a bit below where she stood and she saw a wooden machine being wheeled into position, near a huge pile of large rocks. The machine would clearly catapult the rocks over the walls at the enemy.

The darkness was coming, and rapidly.

"Ailios!"

Allie whirled in relief as Royce rushed toward her, Claire following. "Royce, thirty or forty demons are approaching from the north—and they have an army of possessed humans with them.”

He seized her arm, a look of alarm on his face. An instant later it was gone.

"An army of demons is preparing to attack Dunroch,” Claire gasped. “This is unheard of!"

"They want Ailios," Royce said, staring at her.

Her heart lurched, not because of his words, but from the cold, hard look in his eye. But this was the moment they needed Royce at his worst.

"Will they really besiege us?" Claire cried. "Dear God, even the humans can cross the moat and scale the walls with their demonic power, no matter what, we throw at them, but the higher demons can leap inside the walls."

Instantly, Allie understood that the higher demons could time travel. Right now, a bunch of them were probably leaping ahead by thirty minutes or so and would land within Dunroch's walls as the fight began.

"They intend to distract the entire garrison with a full attack so one of them can take Ailios," Royce said swiftly. "Dunroch canna be defended as if this is a genuine siege. Claire, pass the word to every man—he must watch his back. Our defenses are breached the moment the battle begins."

Claire ran in Malcolm's direction.

Allie realized, in shock, that a huge battle was about to unfold so she could be captured. Her gut roiled. "Are you certain? Royce, why would they go to all this trouble to get me?" she cried.

"Have they not tried to capture you almost daily since the south of Hampton?" he said grimly. "Moffat has planned this since that day, because the march would take that long."

Allie felt ill. "How bad will this be?"

"We canna keep the true deamhanain out o’ Dunroch unless we anoint the grounds with holy water an' prayers, but there's no time. If the deamhanain wish to get inside, they will. Sooner, nay later,” he added darkly. “Someone will try to seize ye in the midst o' fierce fighting." His eyes blazed.

"Should I give myself up?” Allie asked in real dread. So many would be hurt and would die because of her! "Moffat wants me alive."

"Are ye mad?” Royce cried, turning white. He grasped her with both hands and shook her, once. “Ailios dinna speak ever o’ givin' up to Moffat again."

Allie wet her lips, which were terribly dry. "I was hoping you'd say no.”

He shook his head. "Ye willna fight today," he said softly, dangerously his grasp tightening.

Allie was about to protest, but no words spewed. Instead she thought about his death at Moffat’s hands in the future— and how he'd almost died the other night at Carrick, distracted by her attempts to fight the demons. She needed to admit that her efforts were paltry, no, pitiful. "I won't fight," she said hoarsely.

He seemed surprised. "Good. An' ye'll stay where I put ye, until I tell ye otherwise.”

Allie was in disbelief. “I’m a Healer. People will get hurt today, likely people will die. I have to heal, Royce. It's what I do!"

"How can ye be movin’ about Dunroch while arrows an' rocks are flying over the walls, when the deamhanain are inside the castle, lookin’ fer ye?" Royce said to her grimly.

"I can't wait until the battle ends to heal those who are critical," Allie cried, meaning it. “I’ll be careful I swear!"

“Fer once, just this once, ye'll listen to me. I canna fight with ye running around the keep to tend the wounded, the perfect prey. Yer selflessness is admirable, Allies, but ye’ll stay where I put ye. Ye'll heal when the day is done."

Allie stared in surprise and he stared back, determined. "Are you telling me that I should hide?"

"Nay, Ye'll stay close to me during the battle so I can defend ye if need.

ROYCE HAD CLIMBED up to the curtain tower closest to the foremost gatehouse, as the north wall defended the moat and the drawbridge. The south walls were not breachable, as they perched on the cliffs dropping hundreds of feet to the Atlantic Ocean below. Allie had asked if she could come up and he’d nodded. She stood beside him wearing a boy's mail shirt, her hip against his thigh. Every tower and every rampart was occupied by archers, knights, bowmen and the huge, deadly-looking crossbows that fired bolts the size of swords. Barrels of boiling liquids were being brought up. Allie stared to the north, filled with sick anxiety and dread.

This was all because of her. Why was this happening? Why, out of the blue, had Moffat come after her in South Hampton that night?

She glanced at Royce. At least they were in this together. As invincible as he seemed, his death in the future had proven his mortality. If anything happened to him, she’d be close by to heal him—no matter what.

Allie hoped Royce didn't want to die in the fifteenth century, too.

His gaze slid to her and locked with hers. "I won't be dyin’ today."

Allie took his hand. His gray eyes flickered with surprise but he didn't pull away. "No, you won't, Claire has some healing power, too, doesn't she?"

"Some, I saw her heal Malcolm with my own eyes when he was fatally wounded by Moray. She dinna heal him completely, Ailios, but she saved his life by stoppin’ his bleeding."

"It's better than nothing. She can help."

"Ailios, her powers are nothin’ like yours. An’ Claire's a warrior. She fights with Malcolm, although I dinna ken how he fights with his woman at his side."

Allie was impressed. But Claire looked really strong— as if she could seriously kick some ass.

Allie turned to stare to the north. Royce gently tugged his hand free. She let him. If the circumstances weren't so dire, she'd be thrilled that he'd held her hand, even if for a minute.

The isle of Mull was really charming. Allie thought. Other areas were majestic—like Carrick. Facing her, gentle, forested hills rolled into a vivid blue sky dotted with cotton-puff clouds. As she stared, the black cloud so close now that her gut roiled and the hairs on her nape stood up. she saw a herd of deer emerge from the closest ridge, three does and a buck taking flight across the rocky road leading to the barbican.

"They're here," Royce said flatly.

For one more moment, Allie did not move,

From that tree line, the demon army emerged.

A line of giant men, clad in armor and mail, helmets glistening in the sun, their bows on their backs, marched down the ridge toward Dunroch's walls. The foremost men carried large crimson and black pennants.

Allie fought for composure.

More men, pack horses, equipment and machines followed—battering rams with iron heads, catapults like those in the courtyard below, and oddly, plank wood fencing, and carts carrying tall ladders.

"T'is nay fencing," Royce said grimly. "T'is shields fer their archers an' the men who will try to scale the walls.” Royce glanced around them. "No deamhanain are inside Dunroch yet."

"Why don't they leap inside whenever they want to?" Allie asked, her mouth so dry that swallowing hurt.