They reached the horses and he helped her mount her steed.
“I have the gift of second sight,” she said finally, her voice low. “I can also hear voices in my head that arenae mine.”
“I dinnae believe this,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. He climbed onto his horse and pushed forward, his eyes straight ahead.
“’Tis true,” she said, straightening her back as she followed his lead. “I’ve had these inner senses when I reached womanhood. At first the abilities were a burden tae me, but over time I came tae accept them. The castle inhabitants knew of my gifts, and they flocked tae me in hopes tae gain help for locating lost items and lovers. I’ve always had marginal success in assisting them since my guidance occurred sporadically. But until recently the attitudes of my clan members have turned hostile.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. The memory was starting to become painful, but she forced herself to continue. “I sought help from my mother, but her look of disgust was enough tae deter me. ‘Twas as if I had turned into a leper before her eyes. After this incident, I was determined tae shut out the sights and voices, but as I tried tae do this, my dreams became scarier, and the vocalizations more insistent.” She paused. “’Twas only a few days ago when the voices told me tae go tae Tancraig Castle and seek help.”
“This story ye tell is as fantastic as one of Kila’s tales,” he frowned. “’Tis my experience that those who claim tae have special gifts are terrific liars.”
“I assure ye that I’m nae lying.” Adrina clasped her hand together, suddenly needing him to believe her. “My grandmother Wynda also was a seer, although I’m uncertain whether she heard voices as well. ‘Twas her mother that compiled a powerful book of conjurations. I was shown the grimoire once, but I had forgotten about its existence. And then I discovered that Fingal MacNauld had somehow come into possession of it…”
Adrina remembered the horrifying day when she discovered that Fingal had stolen the book of spells. She had long distrusted her father’s advisor, but Tevon MacGill had confidence in the former clergyman’s ability to administer the clan territory. Perhaps she had voiced her opinions about Fingal too loudly because he promptly turned cold toward her. Meanwhile, the clansmen became suspicious and unfriendly as well. At that time she couldn’t understand why their attitudes had changed toward her.
It was also around this time when her father had left with his men to confront a troublesome sept. Once again, Fingal was put in charge. No one expected the laird to return for several days, and so the castle settled back to its usual routine. The sun was just about to set, and her mother had chosen to retire to her bedchamber. And while Adrina felt restless, she thought it was prudent to return to her bedchamber before it was too dark.
She was about to walk past a chamber when she saw a faint blue flash of light from underneath the door. It was so quick that she thought she had imagined it. But the light flashed again. As far as she remembered, this chamber had belonged to her grandmother Wynda, and was vacant. When her grandmother died, Adrina’s mother decided to keep the room intact, and forbade anyone from using it. So why then did Adrina observe a light flickering from within?
Curiosity gripped her and drew her to the door. She paused at the wooden panel, listening for any unusual commotion. But the oak door was thick, and she couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Still, she was certain that someone was inside. And before she thought to wonder about any danger that might lurk there, she pushed opened the door, and slipped in.
Immediately she detected an acrid smell which lingered in the air. Fingal was sitting at a table, and looking down into a small wooden bowl. Candles burned on either side of him, their light spilling onto the table. A raven was perched at his shoulder. Its glassy eyes also peered into the bowl; the intensity of its regard was equal to its master. What was happening here?
Adrina inched her way to the large ornate armchair that sat off to the side, and wedged herself between it and the wall. She was assured that the piece of furniture was sufficient to conceal her presence. Crouching down, she made herself as small as possible, and peeked around to the side of the chair.
From her position, she had a clear view of Fingal. The advisor was bent over a book, and seemed unaware that she was in the chamber. He mumbled something, and she strained her ears to hear. The words he intoned, she discovered, were in Gaelic, but much of the language sounded foreign to her. He ran his fingers across the pages of a book, which somehow seemed familiar. But then comprehension dawned upon her, and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the gasp.
Fingal was using magic!
Her mind sped to the past, recalling the odd behaviors of those that she knew and loved. Almost overnight, they had turned against her. She thought that perhaps she had offended them, but what if was Fingal who manipulated their actions? The contents of supper churned in her belly as more disturbing possibilities entered her mind. Before her father left to visit the recalcitrant sept, he was struck with a terrible illness. His sickness incapacitated him, and he was unfit to govern the clan. For a time it was left to the advisor to shoulder the responsibilities. This arrangement proved beneficial to the clan, but now she wondered if there was a chance that her father’s affliction had developed through unnatural means.
Fingal has cast a spell over Dunnvie, a whispery voice floated inside her head, confirming her suspicions. Out of sheer habit, she groped for the brooch. She squeezed the ornament in her hand, trying to derive comfort from it.
It was impossible, she thought. Yet the evidence before her couldn’t be denied. As far as she was aware, Fingal had possessed no prior skills as a sorcerer. In fact, when he learned of her special gifts, he had scoffed at it. So how did he learn magic?
‘Tis the grimoire, the voice answered without hesitation.
Adrina squinted, taking in the book that was spread out on the table. She shut her eyes abruptly just as she felt the bile rising to her throat. There was no other explanation. She was certain that it was the grimoire that belonged to her great-grandmother. That book contained pages and pages of rituals, and complex formulas and spells. Somehow Fingal had got a hold of the manual, and was using the contents to exploit the people of Dunnvie. And the evidence of his evil plan was in plain sight. As the shock of what she discovered coursed through her body, she heard his sing-song voice:
Incantation of the divine eye,
Incantation of the shining moon,
Incantation of all that is powerful
Show me Tevon MacGill!
Fingal stopped and stared intently into the bowl.
Adrina’s breath caught painfully in her lungs. Her father was away from the castle. Why did Fingal want to know where her father was located?
For long minutes, the advisor stared into the bowl as if the contents fascinated him. And for the same amount of time, her heart thudded painfully in her chest. It was clear to her that he was scrying to gain insight for the demand that he made. Suddenly he let out a string of curses.
“This is the third time I’ve tried this. Why the hell will ye nae show me where the bastard is?” he said, banging a frustrated fist on the table. In his anger he shoved the basin away from him, the container scraping across the wooden table.
Fingal lifted his head, and the light of the candle revealed an expression of pure rage. His brows snapped down, and he glared at the book as if it had somehow wronged him. Even though his furious eyes weren’t fixed on her, his anger nevertheless sent a chill down her spine.
Slamming the book shut, he pushed back the chair, and stood up.
“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he said aloud.
The raven on his shoulder let out a sound as if to answer its master.
Bending over, Fingal blew out one candle while he took ahold of the other, and made his way to the door.
With quick strides, Fingal moved toward the door. The chamber was pitched dark now, but the light from the candle illuminated his narrow visage, making
him appear ghoulish and frightening. He was several paces away. She held her breath. Still, the thoughts whirled in her mind. Her father was supposed to return soon. But Fingal wanted to locate her father’s whereabouts before he arrived home. Somehow she knew that the advisor was working on an evil scheme. She needed to find out what it was, otherwise the entire clan was doomed.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened to her tale. He was wrong to say that Adrina’s tales rivaled Kila’s. Indeed, the lass’ story was even more fantastic than the ones that Kila told. He had often dismissed his sister as being silly and overly imaginative. He might have thought the same of Adrina except she appeared serious and sincere in her recount.
But even as he listened to her speak, he was well aware of how the sun shone on her chestnut colored hair. The angle of the sun struck her tresses, making the strands appear glossy and soft. Her features were perfectly formed, and once again he wondered why he was so drawn to her. And it wasn’t just her beauty that caught his notice. There was definitely something more…
Ridiculous, his mind chided, while annoyance gripped him. His logical mind simply couldn’t understand how the lass had gotten under his skin. Never had he allowed a woman to affect him in this way, and he would be glad when he returned her to her home. Only then he would be free of her, and he would be able to go back to his orderly way of life.
What was that?
He had been so deep in thought that he almost missed the quick snap of a branch in the distance. Leaning over, he grabbed the reins of Adrina’s palfrey, stopping the animal.
Although the forest was dense in this area and provided an effective screen, it still allowed the faint but unmistakable sound to come through.
“Men are approaching,” he said, his voice low.
Adrina looked at him, startled. “Are ye certain?” She glanced at him and followed his line of sight.
Her face went pale. “’Tis Fingel’s men,” she said, her voice low.
It was a puzzling choice of words, and he looked curiously at her. Again, there was something that she wasn’t telling him. But he had no time to question her. The voices were coming closer. And they appeared to be bickering over something. Duncan needed to backtrack, confirm their identities, and ascertain how much of a threat they were. Sliding off his mount, he gestured for her to stay where she was.
But she dismounted as well. He narrowed his eyes at her, although she ignored his glare.
“Stay here,” he hissed.
“Nay,” she said. “There’s two of them, and ye might need help.”
He shook his head, but he didn’t have time to quarrel. The course of action was already apparent to him. He needed to knock the men unconscious, and stop them from following them, or he could fight them. With armed warriors in their midst, and a lass in tow, the latter was not an option. He just hoped that she had enough sense to stay well behind him.
“The Master said that they’re here,” one of the guards said.
“We’ve been wandering for hours in these woods,” the other man said, his tone caustic. “Do ye see them anywhere?”
It was apparent that the men followed them. But luckily there were only two highlanders to deal with.
Duncan spied a fallen branch on the ground and picked it up. Creeping closer to them, he saw the guards on their mounts. They were engrossed in their argument, and he was able to take advantage of their inattention. Raising the heavy stick above his head, and before either of them knew what was happening, he slashed the weapon first at one man and then the other, knocking them both off their horses. The force of the blows, in addition to the impact to the ground, rendered them unconscious.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand, and hurrying her back to their horses.
CHAPTER 14
When they had put enough distance behind them, Duncan slowed down their pace. He pulled out the flask that he had placed under his belt. Taking a swig, he gave a satisfying hiss as the fire raced down his gullet. At least he hadn’t left Cannpach empty-handed. He turned to Adrina. “Take a drink,” he said, pushing the vessel toward her.
Adrina reluctantly took it from him and sniffed at the contents.
“Nay,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell. “I cannae comprehend how ye can drink something sae awful.”
She started to hand the container back when her fingers brushed against his. A jolt of awareness shot through him. And when he looked at her, he found her gaze fixed on him. Her beautiful brown eyes were filled with confusion and shock, and her mouth was slightly parted. He felt a sudden urge to swoop down, and taste from her honeyed lips once more. A part of him began to stir. But he forced the feelings aside. This was neither the time nor the place to entertain his primal urges.
He tipped the flask, taking another swig of the firewater before returning it to his belt. That was enough for the time being.
“We’re entering Dunnvie territory now,” Duncan said, taking out his map and studying it.
“Aye, I ken,” she said.
He looked at her for a brief moment. Of course, she would know. This was her country. But he couldn’t just drop her off at the castle gates. If they hadn’t encountered the guards in the woods, he wouldn’t have thought anything about gaining entrance to her home. But now he was certain they wouldn’t be well received. What he needed was to learn what the hell was happening, and why Adrina’s people wanted to hurt her.
“There’s the castle,” she said, pointing to a large fortress through the break in the trees. The castle itself was surrounded by the forest, although the trees were cleared from about a hundred feet from the stone keep.
“We’ll need tae keep tae the woods for now until I can figure out how tae get us inside,” he said. Duncan didn’t need to explain about the guards. Although he couldn’t see them at this distance, he knew that they were there, manning their posts.
“Ye dinnae have tae figure it out,” she said with a certainty of someone who knew her terrain. “If we go around this way, we should come across a hidden passage that will take us inside.”
“How do ye ken of this passage?” he said, cocking his head.
“’Tis how I left the castle in the first place. Dunnvie Castle is verra auld. My ancestors built the tunnel as a means of quick escape during raids. The underpass itself starts in the courtyard, and is wide enough tae accommodate man and beast. At the time, ‘twas a sure way for people tae leave the castle undetected. But now everyone has forgotten its existence. Fortunately I stumbled upon it when I was a bairn.”
“Guid,” he said, briefly. This wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. “Show me where ‘tis.”
She led him through the thicket. Dunnvie was located south of Tancraig, so autumn should have been in full bloom. But the leaves in this region were only starting to change color, and there was still a substantial amount of greenery everywhere. And while he detected the usual sounds of birds calling among the treetops, he also noticed an absence of wee beasties scurrying about in the underbrush. But if that wasn’t enough to make him uneasy, he felt a peculiar sensation as if someone watched them. Of course this was impossible. There were no humans in sight, and as much as his younger sister wanted him to believe in her fancifulness, he wasn’t convinced that forest spirits or the fae folk existed.
“Where in the castle is this hidden entrance located?”
“In the stables. When I was young, I pulled away at the auld hay on the floorboards, and discovered the passageway which snaked outside the castle walls. Since then I’ve used it many times,” she said shrugging. “And I was able tae explore the forest at my leisure without anyone realizing that I was gone from the castle.”
“’Twas a dangerous game ye played,” he said frowning at her. “If one of my sisters took tae the forest like ye did, I wouldnae have been pleased. There’re many unpleasant things in the woods.”
“I have never encountered any wild animal or Broken Men,” she said, her tone flippant.
“Besides, I didn’t venture far from the tunnel…” But then her voice trailed off, and she no longer seemed confident about where she was going. She slowed her horse and looked around her in bewilderment. “The entrance is here somewhere,” she said, biting her lip in concentration. “I’m sure of it.”
Duncan dismounted from his steed, and searched the ground. There were fresh horse tracks embedded into the soft earth. Either there were other people coming to this exact spot, or Adrina was leading them around in circles.
“The entrance disnae exist, does it?” he said, becoming suspicious. “I figured that we were orbiting this place, however I ignored it since ye seemed sae certain of your whereabouts.”
She slid off her horse. “I ken the entrance is here. I thought I had missed it initially, but I swear that this is the right place.” Her eyes scanned the vegetation, and pointed to a section on the forest floor. “There’s the mound of earth, and the door lies within it.”
“But I dinnae see a portal anywhere.”
“’Tis there, I tell ye,” she said, staring at the solid mass of dirt which was covered by a layer of moss.
“This is a waste of time,” he said. “With all our wandering, we would have arrived at the gates by now.”
“I’ll nae go near the gates as they’re heavily protected by Fingal’s men. But we need tae get inside.” She bit hard on her bottom lip. “I — I fear that Fingal will hang my parents.”
“Did the voices tell ye that?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“Nay, that knowledge was given tae me in my sleep,” she said, her voice sounding dead-pan with conviction.
Duncan fell silent, remembering too late that she had hinted at the horrific details of her dream. He recalled that night in the cave when she had awoken. At the time she seemed afraid that harm would come to her parents. Now he wondered if there really was something to her fantasies. There was no telling what was happening behind the fortress walls. All he could do was to observe, and not dismiss anything. Unless Fingal wanted to usurp the role of the new laird of Dunnvie, there was no reason why he would injure, or even murder his protector. And as much as Duncan hated to acknowledge it, he knew that greed was a potent motivator for men who sought power. In his travels, he had come across ruthless men who would terminate their own mothers in exchange for prestige and authority. In this case a power hungry cleric would slay his laird.
The Highland Curse (Scottish Strife Series Book 2) Page 12