Demon Laird (Legacy of the Mist Clans) (32 page)

The man’s green eyes sparkled with mirth
. “Thank ye, MacGrigor.”

“We should wait until dark
tae actually break through. I dinna ken how close we are tae the camp sentries.”

“Trust me
, laddie, I’ve put ye right where ye need tae be.”

“Of that I have no doubt.
It will be dark soon.”

“Aye
. In the meantime, I have something tae show ye.”

“Of course.”

Ian led him back down the tunnel a bit but stopped about halfway and again lifted his lantern. “Ye see the crack in the rock here?”

“Aye.”

“’Tis wide enough for a man tae squeeze through.” He paused and eyed Ronan. “Although ye may have a bit of trouble. But the rock is solid. If I can widen this a bit, this natural fissure should give us a path for a second tunnel, one that cuts under the enemy, and unless I miss my guess, we will have another opening on the other side of the camp.”

Ronan laughed softly. “Ye ken my thoughts well.”

“Give me a wee bit o’ time and I can create tunnels that will turn this into a labyrinth. Even if the enemy stumbles across the entrance, they willna be able tae find their way through.”

“Time is no
’ on our side, but it willna hurt for ye tae attempt it.”

Ian nodded and shot him a gap-toothed grin.

“Ronan?” Aidan’s voice called softly.

“Down here.”

Ian lifted the lantern so Aidan could see them. Aidan made his way down the tunnel, gazing at the walls in appreciation. “Well done, Ian.”

“I’m glad ye like it, young MacGrigor.”

“As soon as the sun sets,” Ronan said, “we will create the entrance tae the tunnel. Aidan, I need ye tae handpick five men, those who can move silently and use the shadows as well as ye or I. Padded leather armor only, no chain mail. They must be good at close quarter fighting and no’ fear the Demon Laird.”

“I ken ju
st the men ye need, but add me tae their number.”

Ronan wished he could
, but he shook his head. “Nay, for I need ye on the battlements.”

“On the battlements?”

“Yer build be close tae mine; if my plan works, we’ll send the spineless curs running.”

Aidan studied his brother a moment then grinned. “Aye, brother, I will gather the men.”

****

The night was black as Ronan and Ian’s sappers broke through the earth. There was no moon yet
, and Ronan was grateful for it. A thick cloud cover hung in the sky, and a strange, wispy fog formed in the trees, stretching tendrils across the clearing, like the Earth Mother’s bony fingers. It was as if she had set the stage for him this night. Ronan hoped his plan would not disappoint.

He pulled his dark cloak tight around him and lowered the cowl to obscure most of his face. The men Aidan had picked also wore similar cloaks
, but Ronan stood a full head and shoulders over them. When he chose to reveal himself, there would be no doubt the Demon Laird had come calling.

Ronan cautiously poked his head through the hole and looked around. Ian had not missed the mark, he h
ad put Ronan in the back of the enemy camp, near the siege engines, but not so close that he risked discovery. Ronan popped through and the five men followed, forming a loose circle around him, down on one knee, watching for any sign from the enemy. They had fashioned something of a trapdoor, and working from the outside, Ronan helped set it in place. Once they determined it was in good working order, Ronan opened it and peered into the hole at Lachlan. The lad had a short sword strapped to his belt; behind him stood Ian and his sappers, armed with shovels and pickaxes.

“Ye ken what
tae do,” Ronan whispered. “On what word do ye open the door?”

“A whistle and the word thunder,”
Lachlan said, his eyes barely visible in the dim light.

“Aye,
laddie. I doubt they will find this opening, but be prepared for anything.”

“Aye
.” He paused and Ronan saw a flash of white teeth as he grinned. “Put the fear of the Demon Laird into them, MacGrigor.”

“I plan on it
.” Ronan closed the trapdoor and covered it with bits of dirt they had loosened upon breaking through and chunks of weeds and grass. He sat back and surveyed his handiwork. Good enough for a night such as this one, he decided.

Keeping to a low crouch, he moved closer to the men he had brought with him.
He tapped two on their shoulders, they looked at him, and he pointed them at their target. They nodded and silently melted into the darkness. Ronan repeated the action with the other two. The fifth would remain with him, guarding his back.

Unfortunately, the War Wolf was deep in the middle of the enemy. Ronan doubted he could reach it without raising an alarm. But he spotted a battering ram close by
. The other men he had sent after the construction of the siege tower. He looked to the man with him. “Ye ready, Eoghan?”

“Aye,” the man said grinning. “Let’s give these bastards a fright they
willna soon forget.”

Ronan nodded, returning the man’s smile. They stalked silently toward the battering ram. Ronan’s pulse thundered through his veins
, but he moved with great care until he was in position, right behind the battering ram. He withdrew a torch from the folds of his cloak and looked around. No one was aware of them; even the sentries standing guard seemed terribly bored. One was dozing off against the pike he held planted firmly on the ground.

Ronan pulled his fire
-striker from his belt pouch and lit the torch. He hesitated as it grew in strength. Igniting the battering ram would not only be a signal to the men he had brought with him but to those in the keep as well.

The torch reached full strength and Ronan silently held it to the battering ram. The dry
wood ignited almost immediately. As those flames grew in strength, he jumped up and sprinted to the other side, also igniting the wood there. Within moments, the fire grew brighter.

Startled shouts resounded
and he looked to his left as parts of the half-assembled siege tower also caught flame. Ronan took a running leap and landed atop the burning battering ram. He would have a few moments before the flames became dangerous to him. His cloak stirring in the hot air generated by the flames on a windless night only helped add to the effect he wished to achieve. He stood silently as the glow from the fire grew in strength around him.

Shouts of
“Demon Laird” increased among the enemy troops, just like the tongues of fire around him. Ronan caught a flare of light from the castle walls and glanced in that direction.

Torches appeared on the ramparts
, and in the middle of them, dressed exactly as he was, stood Aidan atop the crenellations. Ronan felt his smile grow. Damnation, in the weak light of the torches, Aidan did look exactly like Ronan.

The enemy soldiers cried out in alarm.
Aye,
Ronan thought,
the Demon Laird can be in two places at once.
The shouts turned into shrieks of terror as Ronan continued to stand on the burning battering ram. The heat and smoke grew in strength around him, but he didn’t have to move quite yet.

Le March appeared, barking orders, trying to control his panicking troops. Black hatred shot through Ronan and he clenched his fists. But as le March lifted his gaze to meet Ronan’s
, he spotted the second Demon Laird on the crenellations, and his face paled, making the burn scars Ronan had given him all the more prominent.

Le March was an educated man
. Was he superstitious? Ronan did not know. But seeing the Demon Laird before him and another on the castle battlements gave him pause. Ronan found the instant of fear he saw in le March’s eyes quite satisfying.

“MacGrigor!” Ronan roared, lifting his torch.

From the castle, men answered his battle cry. “MacGrigor!” They banged their weapons against their shields, anything that would make noise, raising a cacophony.

Ronan leapt from his perch atop the battering ram, threw his torch
into the flames, and vanished into the night. Moving like wraiths through the mist, he and his men returned to the door of the tunnel. No one had tried to follow them, which was exactly what Ronan had hoped for. Men were disserting and le March, along with his generals, battled to control them and stop the flood, but their fear was complete and they ran from the field in large numbers.

Ronan whistled. “Thunder,” he whispered
, and Lachlan opened the trapdoor. Ronan allowed his men to pass first while he looked back up at the castle. His grin grew; the torches still burned along the wall walks, but Aidan was nowhere to be seen.

With a soft chuckle
, Ronan followed his men into the tunnel, doing his best to grab dirt and weeds to cover it as he closed it. He seriously doubted after that display that anyone would come searching for him. Nay, perhaps after tonight, even some of the nobles would get a taste of fear and run from the Demon Laird as well.

Ronan threw the bolt on the trapdoor
, and Ian stepped forward with a lock. He secured the door then handed Ronan the key.

“I
couldna resist sticking my head out for a moment. Now that was a strategy yer da would have appreciated. Ye and yer brother surely had the bastards pissin’ their trews.”

Ronan grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Come
, Ian, ye and yer men. Let’s lift a mug tae this—ye’ve earned it.”

“Aye,
laddie,” Ian said clamping his pipe between his teeth. He lifted the lantern and led the way back down the tunnel.

Aidan greeted him almost immediately after Ronan left the tunnel. “Damnation, Ronan, it worked! They’re fleeing in droves.”

“I canna wait for the sentries tae tally the numbers.”

“Aye, brother.”

They trooped into the keep laughing and jesting. Ronan’s gaze fell on Lia awaiting him in the great hall. Her face was still too pale for his liking, but she smiled at him. He strode to her, intent on giving her a kiss, but as he lowered his head, she pressed her fingers to his lips and stopped him.

“What?” he growled, not liking that anything stood between him and his goal.

She laughed softly and brushed her fingers over his cheek and held them up for him to see. They were covered in black soot.

He arched an eyebrow at her
, moved her hand, and proceeded to kiss her, his men encouraging him with bawdy hoots and laughter. He lifted his head, grinning down at her, her beautiful face now also streaked with soot. But the crimson staining her cheeks shone through all of it. He laughed again, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and escorted her to the high table.

****

Lia laughed as the men broke into yet another drinking song. How many they had sung thus far, she had lost count. But ale and wine flowed, along with flasks containing the precious MacGrigor whiskey.

Ronan had even produced his own flask as if by magic. He took a drink
and handed it to her with a wink.

She stared at it
and shrugged. “Why not?” she muttered and took a tentative sip. She gagged and choked, quickly handing the flask back to him. “Mary have mercy, and you say my medicants are foul?” She turned her head away from him, certain she would breathe fire at any moment.

He chuckled and returned the cork to his flask. “Say it’s not so, lassie.”

“What be the problem?” Ian asked, peering at her with bloodshot eyes.

“It seems our newest clan member
doesna like MacGrigor whiskey.”

Ian pressed his hand against his heart. “Oh, nay lassie, say it’s not true.”

“I like it just fine,” Lia said. “As long as you are drinking it and I am not. After all, someone has to hold your heads in the morning as you curse the light and the pounding in your skull.”

He blinked at her owlishly then tried to focus on Ronan. “Did she say what I think she did?”

Ronan laughed. His eyes were glazed, but he was not near as drunk as the others. “I believe she did, Ian, but worry not, that leaves more for us.”

Ian blew a breath
through his lips, sounding like a snorting horse.

“Besides,” Ronan said
, “methinks we’ll appreciate her medicants in the morning no matter how foul the taste.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “And if you behave, I might not make them even more foul than they should be.”

“Now, now, lassie. Ye dinna realize that the best cure for the morning after MacGrigor whiskey is tae drink more of it.”

Before Lia could reply, Ronan opened his flask and held it up. “MacGrigor!”

“MacGrigor!” the others shouted.

Ronan took a long pull
and lowered the flask. This time he started the drinking song. Lia looked at him in surprise. He had a fine singing voice but seemed to have to be a bit into his cups before he allowed anyone to hear it. It was a shame, she thought.

The song was a lively one
, with Ronan carrying the lead and the others joining in, not only on the chorus but shouting various responses here and there. Lia found herself laughing at their antics. Through it all, she saw Ronan’s bright smile was freely given, and his personality and quick wit played off the others. She thought she caught a glimpse of what life had been like in his clan, and especially in his great hall, before his wounding.