Domnall (Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 1): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Low agreements came from the rest of the Moss Dapple.

  “During our harvest night I beseeched the Gods for the safe return of all souls lost.” The druid’s gray eyes glittered with malice. “We found the Mag Raith in the ash grove the next dawn. Thus, my entreaty must have saved you.”

  “Must have?” Domnall stiffened. “You didnae ken that it did?”

  “What more could have brought you here?” Galan demanded. “The barrier didnae fall, yet the five of you appeared inside our boundaries. The Gods brought you to me to aid in protecting my tribe.”

  “Your Gods sent them, but scheming masters sent me,” Jenna said, feeling grimly satisfied. “Okay. I think you’re a very confused man, but either way, you weren’t responsible.”

  Domnall whistled again, and four men came out of the shadows to flank him.

  His hunters, Jenna thought, taking them in with a few surreptitious glances. The huge, dangerous-looking brute carrying a gigantic axe kept an eye on her, while the tall, lanky archer beside him held a bow ready and carried a quiver filled with arrows at his hip. At the overseer’s left side stood an impossibly handsome warrior with a gleaming mane that resembled liquid onyx. He scowled at everyone as he held his sword ready. His fair-haired partner held aloft a small bird perched on his heavy leather gauntlet, and a wicked-looking dagger in his free hand.

  “Mael, Edane, fetch six mounts. Broden, Kiaran, water and food for threeday. Meet us at the falls.” Domnall regarded the short man. “Shaman Aklen, ’twould seem that the Mag Raith have long repaid a debt we never owed. Six mounts seem fair payment. We’ll take the lass with us, and no’ return.”

  The shaman nodded quickly. “I wish you fair journey, Overseer.”

  “You’ll no’ be welcomed back here, Mag Raith,” Galan warned. “Cross the barrier and it shall be forever closed to you and yours.”

  “Aye,” was all Domnall said.

  She didn’t think leaving would be that simple, but as Domnall guided her away from the tribe no one tried to stop them. Realization of what she’d just done suddenly dawned on her: she had made Domnall and his men homeless.

  “I could have handled that better,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  His expression remained stony. “I’m no’.”

  From the settlement they walked along a dark trail that led toward the sound of rushing water. As they emerged from the forest Jenna saw torches burning on either side of a dark tunnel. The passage led into the center of a waterfall that shimmered in the moonlight. It seemed very odd until she realized it wasn’t making any sounds.

  “’Tis an illusion,” he told her. “The center of the falls isnae real.”

  She might have scoffed at that before she’d walked through walls. Now she found it as fascinating as everything else in this strange world.

  “Is it this place that’s magic, or the tribe?”

  “Both.” He looked past her and frowned. “Edane?”

  Jenna heard a faint whistling sound, and then yelped as Domnall pushed her aside. He moved so fast she saw only a blur, and then an arrow struck the tree where she’d been standing. Its fletching bobbed from the force of the impact.

  Another whizzing sound sliced through the air, but it came from behind her, and struck something in the shadows of the trail. Galan staggered out, a bow falling from his hand as he clutched the arrow piercing his palm.

  The lanky redhead came to stand beside her, nocking another arrow as he kept his bow trained on the headman. “Mael comes with the horses, Overseer.”

  “Aye.” Domnall watched without expression as Galan staggered to a tree. “We’ll make for the hills once we’ve crossed, and find shelter for the night.”

  Jenna couldn’t believe they were chatting so casually after what had just happened. “He was trying to kill me.”

  “’Tis a mistake to raise a bow against the Mag Raith, lass,” Edane told her.

  “Or those we protect,” Kiaran said as he carried several packs out of the woods, his shoulders occupied by two of the small birds now. Three more circled down to light on his arms and head. “Sift, dinnae peck at my pate.”

  The bird atop his head uttered a series of short, keening sounds.

  “Cease your squawking, you wee vulture,” Broden said as he brought more packs and dropped them beside Kiaran’s. “’Tis making my pate ache.”

  Jenna kept a wary eye on Galan, who stood with his head bowed and his hand bleeding. Then he muttered something, and the arrow impaling his palm split in half and fell to the ground. A strange energy crackled in the air between them and the headman, and all the hairs on her arms rose.

  “You cannae leave, Overseer,” the headman said. “You ken naught of what lay beyond our lands. Here you’ve my protection. In the world you shall become reviled. I’ll make sure of it.” He pointed at Jenna. “And this treacherous hoor shall be the cause of it.”

  Mael made an ugly sound and hefted his axe.

  Jenna shook her head. “Next time I want to drop in on someone, please remind me to pick another forest.”

  “’Tis a grand one no’ far from our old hunting grounds,” Edane told her. “Ash a-plenty.”

  “No’ that cursed wood,” Broden said. “’Tis where treacherous, scheming evil-doers plot.”

  “Aye, but mayhap they’ll parlay for our safe passage,” Kiaran put in. “We might trade the lass for it.”

  “Or move back into their hideout with them,” Jenna said, playing along as she looked at the headman. “Seeing as they are my tribe, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Galan’s face darkened so much it looked purple now. “You dare mock me, you conniving slut.”

  “Secure the packs and mount up,” Domnall said, and then lifted Jenna onto the smallest horse. “Ken you how to ride?”

  She felt immediately at ease in the saddle, and nodded as she picked up the reins.

  “’Tis no’ finished between us, Mag Raith,” the headman said.

  Domnall swung up onto the last horse, and guided it in front of the others. “Aye, for now the debt ’tis yours.”

  Jenna guided her mare to follow Edane’s mount, and entered the tunnel with Domnall looming behind her. Like the rest of the hunters, she didn’t look back.

  Domnall stayed close to Jenna during the passage through the falls and then down the center of what appeared as a raging river. She flinched when her mare entered the second illusion, and then gaped as the furious waters receded.

  “That’s a very neat trick,” she told him, glancing down at the dry ground beneath her mount’s hooves. “I’ll have to show you mine once we get to wherever we’re going. Where are we going?”

  He nodded toward the northern hills. “We’ll take shelter and rest there for the night, and speak more on the matter.”

  “Shall we too sing songs by the fire?” Broden asked, his harsh voice stinging with bitterness. “Or better to beseech the Gods to deliver a soul to Galan, for he’s none of his own.”

  Knowing the trapper to be the voice of all the hunters’ discontent, Domnall said, “If we’d ended him, Brother, he’d only come back.”

  “Aye, but I’d have enjoyed it.” Broden glanced at Jenna. “What say you, wench? ’Twould gladden you to see the dru-wid dead, or to mewl at me for forgiveness?”

  “You forget, I’m a treacherous hoor,” she replied, her expression calm. “I’d help you kill him.”

  All the other men laughed, and even Domnall chuckled. Broden gave her a narrow look before he rode ahead to flank Mael.

  The ride into the hills took some hours, slowed by the darkness and a cold, damp night wind. By the time they reached a spot by a stream suitable to make camp Jenna sat low in the saddle, her shoulders drooping. Domnall resisted the urge to pluck her from the mare and hold her against him, as he had in the cottage. This would be the first of many such jaunts, and openly coddling the lass would only spark new resentment among his hunters.

  As Mael and Edane tended to their mounts, Domnall sen
t Kiaran and Broden to collect stones and firewood. He turned to check on Jenna, and saw her taking bread and fruit from the packs and arranging it for a meal on a clean blanket.

  “Here, lass.” He offered her a water skin. “You must be parched.”

  “Thanks.” She took a swallow and then met his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

  Again she showed tapachd as if she were one of his hunters. “For us all, lass.”

  Domnall sorted through the packs until he found a firesteel, and gathered some dry grasses to bundle into kindling. When his archer and falconer returned with the makings for a camp fire, he helped them build it and sparked the flames, nursing them with his breath until they enveloped the dried wood.

  The warmth drew them all closer as they ate and drank, and Jenna sighed with tired pleasure as she held her slim hands close to the blaze. “This is nice.”

  “Your hands show you’ve done fine work,” Kiaran said. “What does an architect, then?”

  “We draw designs for buildings.” She made a face. “Only I don’t remember anything I’ve done.”

  “Yet you ken that as your work.” The falconer gestured to the ground. “Will you draw now such a place?”

  Jenna picked up a twig, closed her eyes for a moment, and then began to etch lines into the dirt. The sure, rapid movements of her hand made it apparent that she felt at ease with the task. When she finished Domnall eyed the shapes and small symbols she had drawn, unable to fathom what they represented.

  Kiaran leaned over to examine it. “I dinnae ken what ’tis.”

  “It’s called a parti, a preliminary sketch for a building,” Jenna said. “Each shape I’ve drawn represents a space inside the construct, and every symbol an important feature for moving through it.” She pointed to a slash inside the largest box. “This diagonal line here is the entry, for example, and the arc shows how the door opens.”

  “From above, then.” The falconer cocked his head. “’Tis as what a bird sees.”

  “That’s exactly right,” she said, smiling.

  Now that he knew how to look at it, Domnall finally recognized what she had drawn. “’Tis the cider house.” A crack of lightning made him glance up to see a storm gathering. “We’ll need to find shelter.”

  Mael stood, his own gazed fixed on the clouds, which had begun flashing from within with huge bursts of light. “’Tis something above there.”

  A thin jag of bright white came down to strike a tree not a stone’s throw away from their camp. The air filled with the crackling fury of the impact as bark shattered and blasted outward. Mael cursed and jumped out of the way as the trunk split and half the tree fell toward him. The ruined wood landed with a crash, shaking the ground.

  Jenna’s head tilted back, and she made a strangled sound.

  “’Tis but a storm, lass,” Edane told her. “’Twill pass.”

  Domnall followed the direction of her gaze and what he saw made him draw his sword. “By the Gods.”

  Dozens of creatures, unlike any he’d ever seen, emerged and descended from the clouds. Each glowed with thunderous light as they glided on enormous, glittering wings. As they came down, a strange, growing hum spread through the air. They flew like birds but appeared to be god-like men in their forms and faces. The garments they wore seemed made of wide ribbons, and fluttered around their magnificent bodies as streamers would. Each stared down at one of the hunters, but the largest and brightest flew straight for Jenna.

  “Sluath,” she said, her face gone completely white.

  The word she uttered made something tighten in Domnall’s chest and rumble through his limbs, sending sizzling heat along his inked arm. Every Pritani knew the legends of the Sluath, the soul-devouring demons who rode the storms in search of mortals made helpless.

  “Get the mounts,” he shouted over the growing din.

  He seized the lass and carried her off to the shelter of the nearest tree. Lightning struck it a moment later, pelting them with a shower of exploding wood as the Sluath plunged down, their claw-tipped hands extended.

  Jenna made a low sound and dropped like a stone.

  Domnall caught her and flung her over his shoulder, but had no time to avoid the descending demons. Mael rode in just as one creature tried to snatch Jenna from Domnall’s grip. As the tracker collided with the glowing demon, light burst out, enveloping the tracker. Mael and his stallion grew as bright as the Sluath, and left the ground to ride up into the air.

  Domnall stared in disbelief as man and horse took flight. But with each full stretch of the beast’s galloping legs, the pair rose higher. For a moment Mael clung to the horse’s mane as he stared down at the ground falling away below him. But in the next instant, the tracker spurred his heel’s into his horse’s flanks. As they rose even higher, he let loose a savage and bellowing whoop.

  Edane rode in fast, leading Domnall’s horse beside him. He jumped up into the saddle, and light enveloped him, the lass, and the horse. A moment later he rose high into the air with Mael and the other hunters. To his surprise they rode as surely and easily as if they still remained on the ground.

  “We facking fly,” Broden shouted, as he galloped past him.

  One of the creatures came at Domnall, its black wings and streaming garments making its skull face glow ghastly white. The shock of nearly colliding with the skeletal apparition nearly unseated him, but it also helped him avoid the bolt of lightning that arced between them. The massive jag of light glanced off Kiaran’s tack, who clung to his horse’s neck as his saddle split in half.

  “She’s mine,” a cold voice said from above, and the white-winged Sluath made another soaring dive for Jenna.

  Domnall jerked the lass down to shield her with his body, and wheeled his mount around. The creature slammed into his back. He felt his tunic tear, and the bright pain of the Sluath’s claws scoring deep trenches into his flesh. Then Broden crashed into it, knocking it away before he rode off in heated pursuit of another air demon.

  The battle continued until the clouds suddenly lifted, taking the Sluath with them. A moment later they had vanished, and the Mag Raith slowly circled down until their mounts once more stood on solid earth. All of the hunters bore ugly wounds from fighting the creatures, and Domnall could feel the blood dripping down his back.

  Edane dismounted, tottering a little before he reached Domnall and Jenna. He lifted his bloodied arms. “To me.”

  Domnall handed Jenna down to his archer before he got off his horse and jerked off the shreds of his tunic. As the furious wind whipped around him, he felt the raw gashes across his back shrinking as they healed.

  “By all the Gods,” Broden said breathlessly, reining in his mount. Despite the gashes about his shoulders, his face was flushed with excitement. “We flew with the very storm.”

  Mael joined them, clapping Broden on the back. The tracker’s cheek bore an ugly bruise but his eyes shone bright—until he saw Jenna in Edane’s arms.

  “The lass?” he said, as Broden followed his gaze and sobered as well.

  “Fainted away,” Edane said looking down into her face.

  Domnall looked at his battered men. “We find cover and make ready for a stand hunt. Gather the packs.”

  Chapter Seven

  Riding the last of the storm’s currents, Prince Iolar led the Sluath to ground, alighting in a shadowy glen cloaked in mist. As soon as their boots touched the soil their wings retracted, folding to hide beneath their flowing garments. He invoked the glamor they used while beyond the underworld, transforming himself and his deamhanan with the guise of ordinary humans.

  Without looking at his surroundings, he could sense that there was no underworld portal near. The tedium of having to walk the mortal realm, until another storm came that they could ride, settled upon him like a smothering cloak. As creatures of the air the Sluath belonged in the sky, not tramping about in the dirt.

  He sniffed the air, catching a trace of human, but it came from
the direction opposite that of the highlanders.

  “My lord,” Danar said. The largest of his scouts came to him bearing blades in both fists. “It seems the rebels survived their escape.”

  “My eyes still work,” Iolar informed him. The prince had been more interested in recovering the woman, who would have provided him with much-needed distraction and sport. “Puzzling that they ascended on their nags to fight us. Not a reunion I expected.”

  “They’re stronger and faster now,” Clamhan said. He was still shrouded in black and wearing the skull mask he used to terrify mortals. “Perhaps they begin to alter.”

  Iolar sighed. “If they’d done that, they’d have welcomed our arrival and handed me my due. Did anyone see my treasure?” His deamhanan all remained silent. “How disappointing.” He glanced over at the smallest of their legion, a cunning deamhan who appeared as a young lad bedecked in blooms. “Meirneal, what of your pet brute? I saw him among the others. You claimed you’d brought that lout to heel.”

  The diminutive Sluath bared small, sharp teeth. “It would seem that he’s abandoned his devotion to me, my lord.”

  “Grant us leave to pursue the rebels, my prince.” Even glamor could not contain Seabhag’s inconstant form which, in his agitation, shifted from toothy monster to winsome maiden. “For soon they’ll crawl back to wherever they’ve hid these past centuries, and we’ll lose them.”

  The scent of human grew strong, and Iolar saw some of the other deamhanan turn toward it. Denied the pleasures promised by the dark-haired woman, his own hunger increased.

  “Fresh prey draws nearer,” Iolar said. “Cloak yourselves.”

  The Sluath disappeared into the mist while Iolar prepared to drop his glamor. As soon as the male came into view, however, he saw his peculiar garments and uttered a vile curse. The only humans the Sluath could not enslave were the tree-worshippers. The wretched beings, called druids by other humans, could be trapped and tormented but not culled. While mortal they had inviolate souls. Still, the druid might provide some brief amusement when Iolar tore him from his mount and yanked his limbs from their sockets.