by Hazel Hunter
Jema smiled up at her Viking, stripped to the waist, his glorious body covered in grime and sweat. With the sun behind him, his golden hair shone white.
“We’re saving that dirt,” she said for possibly the third time. “We’ll use it to backfill the excavation pits.”
He crouched down beside her, frowning at her forehead. Before she could stop him, he’d licked his thumb and rubbed it just below her hairline.
“You’re filthy, wife,” he said, smiling at her.
“Don’t look now,” she said, “but you could use a dip in the stream.”
“Aye,” he said, cupping the side of her face. “’Twould make two of us. Dinnae tempt me.”
Not long after she’d first arrived, Lachlan had given them this lovely bit of land. Along with the circular stone wall, there were several fruit trees, a small orchard, and a stream at the back of the glade. But when Jema glanced in that direction, any thoughts of romping in the water with her Viking vanished.
“Raen?” she said. “And Diana?”
Tormod stood as they emerged from the stream. “This cannae be good.”
Still soaking wet, Diana marched directly at him, eating up ground with her long-legged stride. Jema stood as well and took her husband’s hand. Behind the tall redhead, Raen looked grim.
“Gods, Red,” Tormod said, when she came to a stop in front of him. “You’re giving me a fright. Tell me what ’tis?”
But rather than reply to him, Diana faced Jema. “There’s word of your brother.”
“What?” Jema gasped and felt the world reeling. Tormod wound his arm around her waist and she gratefully leaned on him. “Of Gavin?”
Raen nodded. “’Tis some hidden druid matter, and there’s naught of any certainty, but the laird would not keep it from you.”
“After all this time,” Tormod said, hugging Jema to his side. “’Tis happy news I hope.”
But Jema could see from the faces of their friends that it was not.
“What’s happened?” she demanded.
Chapter Twenty
“YOU ARE HARAL?” Quintus took in the insignificant sight of the puny druid standing on the black ship’s deck before eyeing Strabo. “I thought such a turncoat would be taller.”
His prefect uttered a sour sound. “None of his kind have ever impressed me, Tribune.”
“I think you shall appreciate me more after my transformation is complete,” the druid said, puffing himself up a bit as if trying to look taller. “’Tis a fascinating ritual, not unlike what you and your men–”
A wail interrupted him. It came from the blanket-wrapped bundle held by one of the guards, drawing all eyes. A small fist emerged from the swaddling and struck the undead soldier in the face. He bared his fangs and hissed an order to be quiet to the boy, who only shrieked louder.
“Take him below and secure him,” Strabo said, and stepped in Daimh’s path when the druid tried to follow. “You do not touch the child until Lachlan McDonnel has been captured.”
“He’ll give himself into your hands quite freely, I assure you,” the druid said. His close-set eyes darted around the prefect. “We’ve only to hold a blade to the boy’s throat, if Lusk is present and our timing is–”
“Enough of your prattling,” Quintus said, already tired of the little man. “Captain, how long will it take to sail to Everbay?”
The mortal bowed low before he answered. “Most of the night and day, Tribune.”
“Then have the crew check our compartments to assure they are light-tight.” Quintus went to the railing, and saw a lone, plump figure standing on the cliffs above the lair. She appeared to be waving a small cloth.
“Is that your wife or mate, Tribune?” the druid asked, earning a snort of contempt from Strabo. “She seems very distraught to see you go. The wives of mortal sailors do the same when their husbands go to sea. Since druids dinnae do such work, our females dinnae indulge in hysterics.” He stepped closer, and in a lower voice said, “Might we have a word alone? I’ve gathered some facts from your crew you may find useful.”
Though Quintus eyed him, he said, “This way.”
He led Daimh into the Captain’s cabin, and called in a guard to station just behind the little man. The odd, medicinal scent coming from the druid’s robes made him go to the portal and force it open. Through it he saw Bryn again, which should have made him laugh, but the sight of her fluttering her kerchief only made him think of Fenella. His lost love had always accompanied him on every mission. Indeed, she had saved his life once at great risk to her own.
He felt almost sorry for Bryn and her devotion to him. She would only ever be a whore.
“Tribune, I sense a great sadness in you,” Daimh said, his voice very different from the chittering he had spewed on the deck. “I dinnae wish to add to it, but I’ve heard troubling talk.”
A curious rage filled Quintus. “Tell me or get out.”
“Mortals came on dories to bring weapons on board today while you and your men slept,” Daimh said. “They were instructed to place these weapons in various places around the ship.”
“The Ninth Legion is ever prepared to engage in battle,” Quintus told him. “This we do not do with our bare hands. What of it?”
“’Tis only that the crew hid the weapons,” the druid said, his tone simpering now. “I cannae fathom why they would be ordered to do so.”
Quintus drew his dagger, and strode over to the guard. Before the man could react, he thrust the blade into his chest, reducing him to a pile of ash. He then held the tip directly under Daimh’s nose. “Who ordered it?”
The druid did not twitch an eyelash. “I heard the name Strabo invoked, my lord.”
Quintus’s fist trembled. As much as he would have liked to cut off Daimh’s nose, he had no reason to punish him. He also had no intention of personally searching the ship, or in any way allowing Strabo to learn that his plot had been uncovered.
“Who can attest to the truth of your claim?”
“The captain’s loyalties belong to your prefect,” the druid admitted. “But the other officers might still be yours.”
Quintus had no doubt that the navigator would verify every word the friendly little druid had spoken. He had enthralled the mortal last winter after the undead had captured his ship, and as the tribune’s creation he could not lie to him.
“What reason have you to curry favor with me?”
“On Everbay you shall find a druidess, my brother’s daughter as it happens.” He described the female, and then added, “I wish you to capture her. She is protected by a rogue druid, but he is mortal, and should prove no trouble for your men.”
“I suppose you then wish me to hand her over to you with the boy,” Quintus said.
Daimh’s thin mouth curved. “Och, no, my lord. I wish you to kill her, slowly, and by inflicting as much suffering as you may. While I watch.”
Chapter Twenty-One
CATRIONA STOOD, STILL shocked at what had become of Gavin, with his sunken chest, withered legs, and mask of pain. But if anything, she was even more determined to make it right in the past—to make everything right.
“You’ll need our help with him, lass,” Ennis said.
She took hold of the older man’s thin hands. “I wish you could come with us.”
“Ah, Moggy,” Ennis said, folding her in his arms and hugging her tightly. “This village, this time, is our place, as much as the island is yours. You’re a woman grown, and you’ve a life with Gavin now. Only think of us, and we’ll be there with you.”
She nodded and let him go but didn’t look back at the cottage that had been her sanctuary for so long. She didn’t want to part with her family for the last time in tears and sorrow.
“You’ll be tempted to cross over again to see us,” Senga said, from where she sat beside Gavin. “But your man willnae want you to come alone. You ken what may happen to him if he returns again.”
Catriona felt sick as she nodded.
“A
nother crossing would end me,” Gavin ground out between clenched teeth.
“Aye, I think it would. So, for your sake and hers, ’tis good-bye for us.” Senga made sure Gavin could sit up on his own before she stood. She kissed Catriona on both cheeks and held her for a long moment. “I dinnae ken why I’ve dreaded this day. You made me a mother, and Ennis a father, and brought such happiness into our lives. Now I send you to find yours with Gavin, and all our love goes with you both. You are strong, and brave, and you will always be in our hearts.”
Those words gave Catriona the courage to let go. She offered Gavin both her hands, which he instantly grasped. Ennis propped him under the shoulder on one side, while Senga did the same on the other.
“Only a few steps,” Catriona promised Gavin as she walked backwards, leading him.
“I’m with you, Cat,” he wheezed as his arms began to shake.
“All right now, hands about my neck.” With her help, Gavin managed to cling to her. “You’ll have to let go,” she whispered to Ennis and Senga. When they did, Gavin’s full weight bore down on her. But she was able to drag him the last step as she glanced back at the two people who had saved her. They stood together, smiling. She burned their image into her memory as she smiled bravely in return.
“Here we go,” she said.
Gavin dragged in a breath and held on as he shuffled forward with her into the portal.
They fell into the spinning tunnel of oaks, and a cool wind encircled them as Catriona clung to her love. Gavin’s body began to change, his hold tightening as his arms and legs filled out with healthy muscle. The shaking stopped, and his chest expanded with deeper, easier breaths. Catriona felt her feet touch the long grass in the center of the island’s grove, and looked up to see Gavin’s handsome face and clear eyes. Their hair, grown out long and lustrous, flowed and tangled around them.
“Catriona.” He lifted her in his strong arms to give her a long, deep kiss. “We made it.”
“Aye, we did.” To see him fully restored to a great, muscular beast of a man made her laugh with delight. She ran her fingers through his long hair, and then through her own. “We’ll need a trim, though. I’ve scissors back in the village.”
“Really. Have you got any good weapons?” a female voice asked.
Catriona jerked around to see a woman who for a moment she mistook for her mother. Beside the stranger also stood a young druid and a huge Pritani warrior dressed like a laird.
Gavin instantly stepped in front of her. “Are you looking for a fight, lady?”
“Why does everyone think that about me? I mean, I know, I was Air Force, but I rescued people. I didn’t fight them.” The woman turned to the Pritani. “I should get that tattooed somewhere, sweetheart. Maybe on my forehead.”
Catriona peeked around Gavin’s knotted bicep, and saw the dreamy eyes of the younger man. He looked very much like the old druid who had come to bury her people. Immediately she thought of her uncle and shuddered.
Gavin reached back to take her hand. “Why have you come here?”
The fierce-looking Pritani took a step forward and bowed. “I am Lachlan, Laird of the McDonnel Clan. This is my lady wife, Kinley Chandler McDonnel, and our friend, Ovate Cailean Lusk. You I reckon are Gavin McShane.” His gaze shifted to Catriona. “I fear we dinnae ken your name, my lady.”
Her lover curled his hands into huge fists. “You’ve no’ answered my question.”
“You’ve no’ introduced us to your lady,” the laird countered. “As my wife has said, we dinnae seek to fight. We come to rescue a young lad stolen from his family by our enemies, and learn what more has been amiss on this island. Much, I would say from what I see now.”
Catriona heard the steel in his voice, but saw the kindness in his dark eyes. “Gavin, the Pritani are protectors of mortal and druid kind. Permit me speak to him.”
“One move toward her,” he told the laird, “and you’ll get that fight you dinnae want.”
Lachlan nodded, and shifted his gaze to Catriona.
“I am Catriona Haral, the last survivor of the Moon Wake tribe.” She noted the start her name gave the druid, but continued on. “Twenty years ago, the undead massacred my people. My uncle, Daimh Haral, brought the Romans through the barrier that protected our village. Since that night I’ve been hiding from him here, and in another time.”
Cailean gestured at the portal. “You’ve used the grove to cross over to the past, to be with your people when they were alive?”
She shook her head. “The portal took me to a village in the highlands in the twenty-first century.”
“You’ve been living in the future?” Cailean demanded loudly, his gentle face suddenly a strange mixture of fear and anger. “Did you speak of our time, or bring anyone from the future back to the island with you?” When he saw how his companions were looking at him he said, “’Tis strictly forbidden for druid kind to dwell in any forward time. We may visit, briefly, but only with the approval of the conclave.”
“Yet you had no problem with me and the other ladies of the future coming back in time,” Kinley said. “Sounds like a double standard to me.”
“I dinnae make the rules, my lady,” the druid said quickly. “’Tis to prevent druid kind from taking unfair advantage of all the marvels in the future.”
His prattle infuriated Catriona. “Unfair, you say? The grove took me to that future after the undead slaughtered every other living soul on Everbay. If no’ for the kind mortals who found me, and took me in, I would be dead. I was but seven years old, with no help or training. Gods above, until this moment how could I have ken ’twas even forbidden?”
“Forgive me,” Cailean said quickly. “Never has there been such circumstances. Children of the tribes are never abandoned alone as you were.”
“My mother and father didnae leave me by their choice. My uncle had them murdered.” Sniping at him wouldn’t change any of that, so she said, “Gavin and I willnae use the portal again. We have decided to remain in this time on the island. So naught will be amiss. Now what of this boy the laird mentioned? Why would he be here on Everbay?”
“’Tis a longer story,” Lachlan said before the druid could answer her. “One we may discuss at length once we seek a safer place and secure the island.”
“You think I’m still enthralled,” Gavin said suddenly. “That’s why you’re tiptoeing around any mention of the undead. I’m no’. The moment Thora took possession of Fenella, my enslavement ended.”
Kinley nodded. “Then why did you fake your death?”
“’Tis a longer story, my lady.” He eyed the laird. “Thora convinced me that all Pritani were murderous scum. I suppose to her, they were. But I heard the full story during the battle on the skerry, so I ken that your clan isnae what she thought. I would never have left my sister with your men and that Viking if I hadn’t.”
Catriona knew how much it cost Gavin to admit he’d been wrong—and to say the name he had kept from her. He had said he’d been enslaved by the undead, but not that his master had been his lover. It galled her to think of what he’d been through—and now she understood the pain that had brought him to her isle. Catriona also understood the rush of dark clouds coming from the east. The encounter would not go better in the pouring rain.
“Laird McDonnel,” she said, “the storms here can be drenching, and one quickly approaches. Mayhap we should go to my village. You’ll be safe there, and we can talk sensibly.”
“I personally would love a cup of island brew,” Kinley put in.
Lachlan’s mouth hitched, and he nodded. The young druid did the same, although he didn’t look happy about it.
Holding onto Gavin’s hand, Catriona led them through the passage in the cliffs and along the forest trail.
“’Twas a thing I wished to tell you,” he said quietly to her. “Why I came to this place.”
“It doesnae matter,” she said, tucking herself against his side. “And now I ken that it never did. All that matte
rs ’tis that you’re here.”
While the men remained silent, Kinley proved quite congenial and admired everything she saw.
“What a gorgeous place this is,” she told Catriona once they emerged into the glen. “That waterfall was amazing. No wonder you wanted to build a place here, Gavin. It’s like your own personal Garden of Eden. Minus the horrible backstory, of course.” She grimaced at Catriona. “Sorry. I get chatty when I’m nervous.”
“I never expected to meet an American here,” she confessed. “What brought you back to our time, my lady?”
Kinley told her own harrowing tale of crossing over as a soldier grievously wounded in action, and how she had landed whole and healed in the midst of a battle between the clan and the undead. As soon as she mentioned her military service Gavin mentioned his own, and they talked of Afghanistan and their time there.
“I don’t miss it, for obvious reasons,” the laird’s wife said. “But it must have been tough for you to take the medical discharge.”
“’Twas a blow to my pride,” Gavin said. “I’d planned a career in The Black Watch. But Jema kept my spirits up, and looked after me as the ALS progressed.” He hesitated before he asked, “How is she, really?”
“She’s happy, and busy. She and Tormod are excavating a site in the highlands that dates back a couple of millennia. It might belong to the very first Pritani tribe.” Kinley eyed him. “She talks about you all the time with the others. When she finds out you’re still alive, she’s going to kick your ass.”
“The others, my lady?” Catriona asked, trying to keep up with all that she was hearing.
“I’m not the only American time-jumper,” the laird’s wife said. “We’re averaging one new arrival every year. Diana, the detective who was looking for me after I went missing in the future, fell into the same portal that brought me here. Then there’s Rachel, an heiress whose husband tried to bump her off to get at her money. She was buried alive in an oak grove. Took us a while to find her.”
“You were the first, then,” Gavin said, and when Kinley nodded his expression grew thoughtful. “None of you intended to cross over. Like Jema and me, ’twas all accidental.”