by Hazel Hunter
She tipped her head back and smiled at him before she regarded Kiaran and arched her brows.
“I forbid her speak,” he told the chieftain as Dive soared down to perch on his gauntlet. “Any word she utters shall be wrapped in lies.”
The kestrel made a sharp sound, but directed it at her master, not Nellie.
“By the Gods.” Mael, who emerged from the back of the keepe and came to stand beside Domnall, gaped at the wench. “Mistress Quinn, what do you out here this time of night?”
“Follow her tracks,” the chieftain told him. “I want to ken where she’s been. Kiaran, put away your sword now.” He reached down and took hold of Nellie’s hands, taking them from her neck and tugging her to her feet. “You may speak to me, Mistress, and explain your presence outside the stronghold.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her tone one of innocent confusion. “I thought I’d take a little walk until I got tired.” She pushed out her lips to pout. “Sorry, but I’m a bit of a night owl, you know.”
“A walk to weary yourself.” Kiaran uttered a sour laugh. “With a dagger at your hip, and Jenna’s garments on your back.”
“I borrowed the clothes from the laundry. I don’t have much to wear, and I didn’t think she would mind.” She produced the dagger, and offered it to the chieftain. “Edane gave me the blade. He said I should carry it with me all the time, just in case the demon comes back for me.”
“An excuse for everything you do.” Kiaran spat on the ground. “As ever.”
“Say, I get that you don’t like me very much,” Nellie said to him, sounding forlorn now. “Whatever I did to peeve you, I’m sorry. But I’m not spying for the Sluath, see? That one was hunting me when Danny came to my rescue, remember?”
“Or so you claimed. Mayhap the demon wanted Edane to believe that, so he would bring you here.” Kiaran saw Mael returning with a bulging satchel in his grip, and nodded toward him. “I reckon you unmasked now, Mistress. Admit why you came to Dun Chaill.”
She shrugged. “Edane brought me.”
The seneschal handed the traveling pack to Domnall. “I found this in the stables, beside a saddled mare. I reckon she went there some hours past, likely from the kitchens while she prepared the brews for us.”
“You’re a good tracker, Man Mountain.” Nellie sighed as she pulled off the cloak and held it out to the chieftain. “Shame you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose.”
When Domnall reached for Jenna’s garment, the wench tossed it in his face, dodged between him and Mael, and fled toward the gardens.
Kiaran swore as he went after her, surprised anew by her speed. She ran as sure-footed as a deer, even with the too-big tartan gown flapping around her legs. As she followed the curtain wall, she kept reaching out to touch it with her hand, and then abruptly stopped and walked into the ashlar. As soon as he reached the spot where she had disappeared, he saw the shimmer of dark blue light, and the yawning gap of stones folding back on themselves.
“Mistress, stop,” he shouted. When she didn’t show herself, he drew his blade and ran through the portal.
On the other side of the arch he saw a long, dark passage, and the blur of movement at the other end. Torches flared to life along the curving walls, each billowing brighter as their flames swelled. Acrid smoke rose to pelt the rounded ceiling like a writhing, gray-fleeced sheep. Stones began to melt, revealing themselves to be rotted wood under the cracking, blackening paint. The blocks caught flame from the torches, and blazed as if soaked with oil.
“Get out of here.” Nellie hurried toward him, pushing him frantically toward the portal. “It’s all going to go up. Hurry.”
Yet when Kiaran turned, the arch in the wall closed again, trapping them both in the tunnel of flames.
Chapter Fourteen
GALAN PLACED FIANA’S bones beside his bed in the corner of the barn, emerging from the niche once he had covered the bag with his cloak. Tonight, he would sleep beside his wife for the first time in twelve centuries. Even if he couldn’t take her in his arms, breathe in her scent and listen to the soft music of her voice, he’d take comfort in knowing that soon he would.
All he had to do was find Iolar’s half-brother.
“You should drink,” Danar said as he emptied the dregs from the bottle of whiskey into a cup, and handed it to him. “You’re still mortal enough to enjoy spirits.”
“’Twill but give me a sore head in the morning.” Galan absently took a sip as he stared at the long rows of blades the demon had set out on a work table. Each night Danar removed and sharpened every weapon he carried, as part of some private ritual unfathomable to the druid. “I wish to ride out at dawn to begin my search for the halfling. Where did you look for him after he escaped?”
“He used the same gate in the ridges by that village you raided.” The big demon took out his palm stone, dampening it before he began plying a throwing dagger against it. “When you named the magic that was used to seal it, I thought perhaps it had been the work of the halfling. The king sired him on a Pritani slave.”
“Why didnae you tell me that?” Before Danar could answer Galan worked it out. “You couldnae, else the prince would learn of your deception.”
“I sensed no Sluath presence near the gate but our own. The halfling still leaves a trace of that.” Metal scraped against the whetstone with a harsh sound. “You cannot track him after a thousand years gone. He left no trace there. I also recall that our prince ordered you to find the touch-reader.”
Galan picked up a bronze knife with a handle carved from yellowed mortal bone. “’Tis aimless to chase after this wench. If he wishes treasure, he may send the demons to raid one of the great clan holds. They’ve enough gold and jewels to satisfy a king.”
“Ah, but this treasure has no equal.” Danar tested the edge of the dagger before sheathing it and selected another. “Besides that, Nellie Quinn is more useful to us than the halfling. She’s not gone mad.”
Galan put down the knife before he gave into the urge to ram it into the demon’s throat. “I dinnae care what you want of her.”
“She can read the past from any object she touches.” When he didn’t reply Danar laughed. “Think for once beyond your desires, druid. Once we have her, Nellie can be made to read any of the closed gates. Once she does, she can tell you the exact spell that was used to seal it.”
Now he understood. “If I ken the spell, I may reopen the gate to the underworld.”
“Making you the most valuable of Prince Iolar’s subjects. Being trapped here is driving him as mad as the halfling.” The demon regarded him directly. “Understand something else: Nellie is my most prized cull. Her power has been hers since birth, and she used it to live an exceptionally wicked life. I then invested nearly a century in tormenting the remnants of her humanity out of her. She’s unique among mortals.”
Galan picked up on the pride in Danar’s tone. “You sound as a doting sire would.”
The demon’s coppery eyes glinted. “As a king I begat dozens of daughters on my wives, my concubines and my slaves. Some were lovely, others clever, and a few even exceeded my expectations and became powerful wives to important rulers. None, however, came close to being the woman Nellie is.”
“You loved her.” He glanced up at the hayloft. “I thought the deamhanan incapable of such feeling.”
“We are.” Danar went back to sharpening his blade. “Yet I remember love as a mortal. If I were still capable of it, I would have adored her.”
Something in his tone made Galan take a step back. “But no more.”
“The little bitch betrayed me. She made me look the fool before our prince. No mortal in either of my lives has ever so thoroughly routed me.” He stretched out his wings, making the blade sheaths strapped to them bristle like blunt quills. “I look forward to seeing her again, druid.”
He almost felt sorry for the wench. “What shall you do with her?”
“She stole the prince’s most prized possession, deceived
us all, and escaped the underworld. Never has there been such a mortal.” Danar drove the blade in his hand deep into the wooden table. “For that she shall suffer the torments of ten thousand years.”
Chapter Fifteen
BRODEN RAN TO the great hall as soon as he heard Rosealise’s call for help. He found her lugging one of the fire buckets toward a murky cloud between two of the hearths, but neither held flame.
“Here,” the housekeeper said, dashing the sand from the bucket against the stones. More streams of smoke wafted out from the seams as she turned to him. “I think the fire may be inside the wall.”
“Stand back,” he told her as he touched the stones, which felt red-hot in an area as tall as he stood. He drew back his fist, and used his gift of inhuman power to hit the wall. The rock exploded, and blood dripped from his knuckles as he struck again at the spot.
The stone cracked and fell away, and thick smoke and flames jetted out, driving Broden back. Rosealise handed him another bucket of sand, which he threw at the blazing gap. Through it he could now see a passage engulfed in fire, and the silhouettes of two figures, one tall and the other petite.
Dive flew into the hall and began hovering above the hole and screeching frantically, telling him who one of the trapped was.
“Kiaran, to me,” Broden shouted, and tugged at the ragged edge of the gap until he made an opening large enough for them to squeeze through into the hall.
The falconer, his head covered by his smoldering tartan, appeared on the other side. He pushed through a cloak-wrapped bundle, which Broden grabbed and dragged out. Kiaran tore off his tartan before he shouldered his way into the gap, seizing the bundle again and tearing the cloak from a soot-covered, coughing Nellie Quinn.
Broden saw the flames inside the hidden passage abruptly extinguish, leaving only smoke to pour through the gap.
“How did you get inside the wall?” Rosealise asked, putting her arm around Nellie.
She coughed harshly before she said, “I saw…an arch…and ducked…in it.”
Broden saw Kiaran’s face and stepped between him and the gasping female. “Never, Brother.”
“I caught the wench sneaking out of the keepe,” the falconer told him. “When Domnall and I confronted her, she ran from us. She’s been sent by the Sluath to spy on us.”
Broden glanced at Nellie, whose expression grew bewildered before she shook her head.
“Perhaps there has been some terrible misunderstanding,” Rosealise said, sounding unconvinced of her own words. “I think we should have the chieftain to sort this out.”
“I agree,” Domnall said as he and Mael strode in from the kitchens. He glanced around the haze of smoke and the hole Broden had punched in the wall. “’Twould seem you sprang another trap, Kiaran.”
“No’ me. The wench did.” The falconer glared at Nellie. “She lured me inside.”
“You chased me into it,” she countered, and cleared her throat. “It only caught fire after the arch closed.”
By then Jenna and Edane had joined them, and the archer rushed to Nellie’s side, halting only when Mael caught his arm.
“Release me,” Edane demanded. “I must see to her injuries.”
“Wait a moment, lad,” the seneschal warned him after he exchanged a look with Domnall. “Give the lass a chance to speak.”
“I’m all right. I just breathed in some smoke, that’s all,” Nellie told him. “Kiaran wrapped me up and carried me through the flames.” To the falconer, she said, “Thank you.”
“Dinnae offer me your sham gratitude.” Kiaran seized the satchel from Mael’s hand and emptied it at Nellie’s feet, spilling food and waterskins on the floor. “You wished proof, Chieftain, and ’tis before you now. Hadnae I spied her skulking away, she’d have stolen that horse as well.”
Edane went still. “What?”
Broden rubbed his smoke-stung eyes for a moment. He’d suspected something amiss with Nellie, but the archer had been entirely blinded by her charm and beauty. To see this must have felt for Edane like a blade to the belly.
“So ’twould seem.” Domnall regarded the lass. “Why did you steal from us, Mistress?”
She moved her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about this bag or a horse. I was just going for a walk outside.” Her expression hardened as she eyed Kiaran. “Say, maybe you should ask him. Wouldn’t be hard to make it look like I did this, see.”
Outrage made the falconer’s eyes go deadly. “You dare blame your trickery on me?”
“You’ve wanted me gone since I got here, pal,” the lass countered. “Maybe this is the way you figured would get rid of me for good, huh?”
The air crackled with leashed violence about to spill. Broden couldn’t tell from Nellie’s face or eyes if she spoke the truth, but he knew someone who could.
“Chieftain, mayhap Lady Rosealise should speak with the lass.”
“Aye.” Domnall glanced at the housekeeper. “My lady, if you’re willing?”
The housekeeper’s mouth flattened, but she reluctantly nodded and went to Nellie.
“Forgive me for this, my dear,” Rosealise said as she touched the younger woman’s arm. “Please answer our questions truthfully.”
Nellie stiffened, and then spoke in a tight, halting voice. “I stole the food and water. Jenna’s clothes, too. I would have taken the horse. I needed them to get away.”
Kiaran made a contemptuous sound, while Edane stared at her as if she’d spat in his face.
“Where meant you to go, and why?” Domnall asked.
“Anywhere far from this place.” Her thin hands twisted together, but the housekeeper’s persuasion power made her add, “I don’t want to die here.”
“We’ve done naught but make you welcome,” Edane said slowly, as if the words pained him. “You knew I’d protect you from the Sluath. The clan meant to keep you safe.”
“You don’t understand.” Nellie stared at her scorched slippers. “It’s nothing to do with you or the clan. I…I had no choice. I couldn’t stay here.”
“I never threatened the wench,” Kiaran said to no one in particular, as if accused of the same.
“Will you just shut up for a minute?” Jenna said, and came over to join the women. “Nellie, why were you afraid to stay here? Was it because of Kiaran?”
“No. They made this place to kill us.” She looked at Edane. “I’m sorry. I wanted to take you with me, but I was afraid they’d find out if they saw more than one go missing.”
“They?” The chieftain’s wife frowned. “Who do you mean?”
This time Nellie visibly fought answering, even clapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the answer she had been compelled to speak.
“Take your hand away and tell us, Miss Quinn,” Rosealise said gently.
Her fingers slid from her lips. “The Sluath. This place, they built it. It’s not a castle. It’s a prison.”
Broden felt a chill run through him. “How can you ken that, my lady?”
Tears spilled down Nellie’s face. “When I touch things, I see where they came from, and what happened around them, like a moving picture. The walls showed me the monster that built this place. He’s like the demons, only ugly and scarred and crazy.” She wrung her hands. “Don’t you see? We never left the underworld. They just made us think we did with their magic. We’re still slaves, and this is more torture. This is where they’re going to kill us.”
“My dear girl.” Rosealise took her hand away from her arm. “You’re quite wrong. We did escape, all of us. There are no demons here. Dun Chaill is a relic, not a prison.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” the flapper said, wrapping her arms around herself and peering at the walls as if she expected them to collapse. “That’s why I had to run. Now they’ll come and kill us all.” Her voice broke on a sob.
“That’s not happening. I promise.” Jenna put her arms around the weeping lass, and exchanged a look with her husband before she said, “Nellie, do you kno
w how much time has passed since Dun Chaill was built by this monster?”
The flapper wiped at her wet face. “I don’t know, a couple of months, maybe a year. What does that matter?”
“It’s been over a thousand years since anyone lived at Dun Chaill,” the chieftain’s wife said gently. “It’s true that the Sluath probably used this as a trap when the Mag Raith came here in their mortal lives, but that was twelve hundred years ago.”
“We’re immortal, lass,” Broden said gently. “We’ve been thus since we escaped the underworld. Our ladies both died and came back to us the same.”
Jenna nodded at the lass’s incredulous look. “Just to be completely honest, there are still some old traps in place around the castle, as you just found out. As soon as we find them, we either disarm them or seal them off so they can’t hurt us.”
Nellie scrubbed at her wet eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
Edane answered that question in a toneless voice. “We didnae trust you.” He turned and stalked out of the hall.
Broden saw the lass’s shoulders slump, and said to Rosealise, “Mayhap we should put Kiaran’s suspicions to rest now, and finish this.”
The housekeeper nodded, and rested her hand on Nellie’s shoulder. “Did the Sluath send you here to spy for them, Miss Quinn?”
“I don’t think so.” The flapper took in a shuddering breath. “But I don’t know for sure. I can’t remember what they did to me.”
Chapter Sixteen
IN HIS CHAMBER, Edane went directly to the bed. At its end, Nellie’s gown and shift lay draped over the edge. The entire place still smelled of her elusive sweetness, and everywhere he looked he saw some reminder of her. The strips of his tartan she’d used to adorn herself she’d wound neatly in coils on a shelf. The half-drunk mug of whiskey-laced brew she’d made him, still sitting on his table. Even the shape of her lay beneath his blanket.
He yanked back the wool cover, revealing the fleeces she’d used to stuff it. She had expected him to look in on her, and left this to make him believe she still occupied his bed. As he stared at this undeniable show of treachery, Edane wondered if anything about Nellie had been genuine.