Edane (Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 3): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  DOMNALL JOINED MAEL at his tower observation post. Rain poured all around them from the partially-finished roof, and the jagged arcs of lightning showed flashes of the worry on his face.

  “He shall find her and bring her back to us,” the chieftain said. “I’ll stand the watch. Your lady awaits.”

  “Aye, as does your Jenna.” The seneschal sounded distant as he peered out toward the glen. With his power he could stretch his senses across great distances. “’Tis something amiss, yet I’ve seen naught but the rain and the night.”

  Domnall had felt restless for most of the day as well, but he’d blamed that on allowing the archer to pursue his lady alone. He knew Mael to be particularly sensitive to trouble, however, and trusted his instincts.

  “Do we gather the clan and ride after the lad?”

  The big man caught his breath. “Two arrows.” He pointed in the direction of the abandoned village, where two faint streaks of flame arched through the storm. A third came after and between them, which clarified the signal’s meaning. “Sluath.”

  No more had to be said. They left the tower at a run and called for Kiaran and Broden as they passed the great hall. In the kitchens Mael quickly told his wife of the archer’s signal, and she hurried off to fetch Jenna.

  Neither of the women had the power to fly like the Mag Raith, but Domnall had made double saddles for two of the mounts. As he assessed his hunters, he saw Broden offer the ladies long iron daggers. Jenna tucked one in her belt next to the short cudgel she had brought.

  “I would make a pitiable duelist, my dear sir,” Rosealise told him, shaking her head and then producing a bundle from her skirt pocket. “These contain sand and thorns, however, which are quite unpleasant when flung in the eyes.”

  Once they mounted the horses Domnall led the clan out of the stables and out into the open ground in front of the stronghold. There the men and their mounts began to glow as the storm infused them with power. When they rode forth, the horses’ hooves left the ground and they ascended into the wild night sky.

  Domnall signaled the men to take positions behind Mael to conceal their number as they approached the glen. The seneschal used hand signals to indicate movement toward the north, and then wheeled around with his sword ready, as a fast-moving silhouette intercepted them from the opposite direction.

  “Hold,” Edane shouted as he reined in his mount to hover. “The demons clouted me and took Nellie into the ridges, there. They dropped out of sight near the old caves.”

  “How many?” Domnall asked.

  “Ten. Galan and the prince among them.” The archer met his gaze, his own filled with fury. “If he harms her, I shall have that dru-wid’s facking head.”

  “They must need her alive for something,” Jenna said, “or they wouldn’t have grabbed her.”

  “We shall see what we may.” Kiaran held out his gauntlet, and the two kestrels perched on it took to wing and flew off toward the ridges.

  Domnall signaled for the men to fly to the ground, but as soon they landed Edane made to ride up into the slopes. He reached out and grabbed his reins to stop him. “No, brother. You saw but ten. ’Tis likely more may await in hiding. We must be canny now. Let the raptors look for us.”

  The archer’s eyes narrowed. “You wish me to trust in the bastart who drove my lady from Dun Chaill?” He glared at Kiaran. “You saw her go in the night, didnae you? And glad of that, said naught.”

  “’Tis no’ the time, lad,” Mael said gently. “Later we shall settle that. Now we must rout the demons, and save your lass.”

  A darkly-glowing figure with the face of a skull plunged down from the sky, narrowly missing the seneschal’s face with his claws before he flew up and away.

  They had been spotted. Now they had no choice but to pursue the Sluath before the demon revealed their presence to his infernal brethren.

  “After him,” Domnall said.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  NELLIE KNEW BETTER than to struggle as the cloaked demon dragged her into a cave and flung her at the feet of a man she’d seen in her visions. He was bigger than she’d realized, and now had wings on his back. He also radiated the kind of power she’d only known to come from the Sluath.

  You’ve been a very evil boy, she thought, grimly trying to hold onto some hope. She knew the demon had hurt Edane, but he also healed quickly. The storm might revive him pretty quickly, too. Could he track her through the sky? Probably not.

  If Nellie was going to survive, she needed to be smart and buy him some time.

  “The elusive touch-reader.” Galan Aedth jerked her to her feet and looked all over her, smiling as he took in her bedraggled dress. “You’ve accomplished much for such a small wench.”

  “Thanks, Pop.” She smiled lazily at him. “Want to lend me a cloak? I’m freezing here.”

  “Give that bitch to me.”

  Nellie looked over at the demon who had snatched her, who now dropped his ward to reveal his white and gold beauty. Iolar gazed back at her without his usual smirk, and then snatched at her with his claws. Before he could grab her, the winged druid hauled her out of reach.

  “I want her now, Aedth,” the Sluath prince said, baring his teeth.

  “As soon as she has read the stone, my prince, she shall be yours.”

  Though Iolar began to advance on them, a slim deamhan wearing a skull mask hurtled into the cave, coming between them. Nellie recognized Clamhan, who barely managed to stop before colliding with the prince.

  “The Mag Raith,” the demon said, his wings still extended and fluttering. “They–”

  “Where?” the prince demanded. He shoved him toward the entrance. “Show me.” He paused and eyed Galan. “Wait for my signal.”

  As she watched them go, Nellie’s heart almost beat out of her chest. Edane was here. But in the next instant, Galan bent her arm behind her back, and used the painful hold to march her into one of the tunnels.

  Nellie didn’t want to be alone with the druid, but she’d take him over the prince any day. “You can make me touch anything you want. I don’t have to say a word about what I see.”

  “Truth.” He stopped in front of a solid wall of rough stone that sparkled with magic. “Yet I’ll wager you dinnae need your eyes to use your gift.” He drew a blade and waved the tip in front of her face. “Which shall I cut out first? Or mayhap this.” He shifted the edge of the blade to press against her nostrils. “Shall the archer wish to fack you again with the nose sliced from your face?”

  “Okay, okay.” Nellie held up her hands as if surrendering. “Show me what to read.”

  He shoved her toward the wall, and as soon as she got within a few inches the magic warding it reached out to her with dark power. It had been bespelled to kill a mortal, just like the other gates to the underworld, but this one had also been sealed.

  “Sorry, boss,” she told the druid. “If I touch this, I’ll be dead before I can say a word, and you get nothing. Then I think the prince kills you for wasting me.”

  Galan shoved her down on her knees. “’Tis why you’ll read the floor of the cave.”

  Nellie uttered a forlorn sigh, but as he brandished the blade again, she stretched out her hands over the rock beneath her. When she detected no sense of magic extending from the gate, she touched the rough surface.

  Dun Chaill’s monster appeared in front of her, a torch in his fist shedding firelight over his scarred, distorted body. In his other hand he held a strange little rock that he moved back and forth over the open portal, which filled in with stone as he muttered in a language that sounded exactly like the one Edane used when he cast his spells.

  He looked different now, almost human, at least until he turned to face her.

  Her jaw dropped as she saw his pale white skin beneath the grime and scars, and the peculiar color and slant of his yellow eyes. His crippled limbs had human muscles under the demonic skin. His face looked eerily like Iolar’s, if someone had
beaten the prince with a tire iron.

  “Well?” Galan demanded.

  Nellie described the demon to him, skipping only the fact that she had seen him at the Mag Raiths’ castle.

  “He’s kind of wrecked, and can’t walk really fast. You could probably catch him easy.”

  She hoped he’d try, anyway. The monster would snap him in two and pick his jagged teeth with the pieces.

  “Culvar lives,” the druid muttered. He glanced back at the tunnel before he jerked her to her feet. “What of the spell he cast?”

  “He waved around a pebble the size of my thumb that oozed gunk which changed colors.” That was the only way to describe it. “He also said some stuff, but not in English. It started with–”

  “Silence,” Galan hissed and pressed the tip of his blade against her lips. “Repeat naught of what you saw here or I shall cut out your tongue before I slit your throat.”

  Horse feathers, Nellie thought as she tried to look frightened. She could see the feverish greed in his eyes. You’re not going to let anything happen to me.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  FEAR AND FURY warred inside Edane, who guided his mount with his knees as he held his bow ready. He and the clan used what cover the trails leading up into the ridges provided before the slopes grew too steep for the horses. They either had to fly or go on foot, and with the demons’ advantage of the higher ground both presented myriad perils. The sky provided ample room to fight, but no cover. They could use the ground and the storm to disguise their approach, but if more than ten demons awaited them they had no means of hasty escape.

  Kiaran halted beside him, and pointed to a dark recess between two outcroppings. “They hold Mistress Quinn in that cave there. Four guard the opening from the front, two from above, the rest scattered in the brush.”

  Domnall eased Jenna to the ground with one strong arm and glanced over at Mael, who did the same with his lady. “You ken what to do.”

  She gripped his hand tightly, nodding before she and Rosealise disappeared into the brush.

  The chieftain studied the terrain around the cave before regarding Edane and his men. “’Twill be as a boar hunt. Kiaran shall draw out the swine between our blinds there.” He pointed at two wide swaths of brush directly below the cave. “Mael and I shall attack from cover. Broden, you and the kestrels shall come in from the sky to strike from above. Edane, use the fight as cover to go in and retrieve the lass. Dinnae linger to seek vengeance. As soon as we’ve freed her, we go.”

  “Galan shall be waiting with her,” the falconer warned. “And another. Dive saw her taken inside by a cloaked demon.”

  Edane nodded, tamping down the urge to plow his fist into Kiaran’s unconcerned features.

  Before he took to the sky, Broden touched Edane’s shoulder, and nodded to the chieftain. A moment later he flew up and took cover behind a stand of thick evergreens, where the kestrels followed and perched in the branches. The other hunters rode up into the brush, where Kiaran dismounted and crept toward the cave.

  Edane guided his mount into position behind the falconer. The chieftain’s scheme seemed sound, but his unease grew. They had yet encountered no patrols or sentinels. The druid may have brought only a handful of demons that had scattered too far to spot their approach, but that seemed unlikely. Galan had been proud and conniving, but never foolish.

  The wrinkled face of the old shaman appeared behind Edane’s eyes.

  The bow cannae serve ye now, lad. Use yer Gods-given power.

  In battle? Though his fist tightened on the bow, Edane forced himself to close his eyes and drew on his magic to stretch his senses.

  He could hear the clan now, moving almost soundlessly into position. The ink on his arm burned as at last he sensed Nellie, her presence muted by the druid but growing stronger. She was coming out of the cave with him, but Kiaran had strayed too close to conceal himself.

  Edane leapt down from his mount, holding his bow ready. He rushed through the brush to reach the cave before the druid spotted the falconer. But as he did, he spied a demon preparing to hurl a spear at Domnall.

  ’Tis a trap.

  His bow string made a soft sound as Edane released his first arrow. A heartbeat later it pierced the Sluath’s throat, silencing him. His second arrow thudded into his chest, and the third into his brow. The demon collapsed behind the chieftain, who seized the spear and made a sharp sound as he threw it at Mael.

  The seneschal ducked, and the spear impaled a demon reaching for his neck.

  Kestrels screamed as a bolt of power flung Kiaran back, and the Sluath prince descended in front of the cave.

  “Take them,” he shouted, and more demons erupted from the brush.

  Edane’s hands flew as he pulled the iron-tipped arrows from his quiver and shot every demon he saw closing in on the Mag Raith. A demon hurled himself at his bow, but Broden snatched him from the air and flung him to the ground.

  No sooner had he hit the dirt than Rosealise darted forward from behind a large tree. She threw something from a small bundle into the demon’s face, causing him to cry out. He turned and stumbled, groping for her, just as Jenna emerged from the tree trunk. She plunged an iron dagger into his back.

  From the ground Kiaran groaned as Edane stepped in front of him, notching three arrows on his bow as he aimed directly at the prince’s head.

  “You ken what I did to your scout,” he told the Sluath. “Give me the lass.”

  Broden flew down towing two horses, and flung the reins to Mael and Domnall. The three took to the skies and began fighting the demons who had survived Edane’s arrows. Ash and blood began to color the rain.

  “I remember you: the weakling. Danar advised against tormenting you. You barely survived the portal.” The prince smiled, his beauty glowing like a thousand white suns. “I watched you with her in the glen. Does she still make you call her Mistress when you fuck her? As I recall you became quite taken with the scheming little bitch.”

  “Give her to me, and live,” Edane said, feeling strangely calm. “Keep talking, and die.”

  “No.” Kiaran managed to haul himself to his feet and join him, his sword unsteady in his hand. “He’s mine.”

  “Ah, now the half-dead one and the weakling would vie for the right to fight me. Am I to be flattered or depressed?” Iolar snapped his fingers, and Galan emerged from the cave with Nellie, who looked pale but otherwise unharmed. “I suggest a trade, Shaman. The slut for my treasure.”

  “I’ve no treasure but her.” All around him Edane heard his clan battling the demons, but he didn’t take his eyes off the prince. “Release my lady.”

  “Oh, dear,” Iolar sighed. “Really, I do you a favor now.” He snapped his fingers again. “Cut her throat, Galan.”

  The druid suddenly doubled over, and Nellie broke away from him. The prince snatched at her as she ran past him, and his claws ripped through her dress, but she twisted free. As she raced toward him Edane swung his bow sideways and released his arrows in a spread that would strike both Iolar and Galan.

  The druid straightened and flung a bolt of power at the arrows. They curved in the air, reversing direction before they flew back at Edane and Kiaran, their iron tips glowing with lethal magic.

  Too late Edane saw through the cunning ruse. The druid had never been injured. He and the prince had wanted him to let loose his arrows. But when Nellie glanced over her shoulder, the unexpected took them all by surprise.

  “No,” Edane yelled.

  Nellie flung herself in front of them like a shield. Her small body jolted as all three arrows struck her from behind.

  Kiaran cursed as Edane dropped his bow and caught her in his arms. He looked up to see Galan and Iolar take flight, soaring up between the demons and the Mag Raith until the clouds swallowed them. A few moments later the Sluath that were still able to fly followed their prince.

  Falling to his knees, Edane held Nellie against his heart. She looked up at him, her eyes filling not with pain but
relief—and love. He looked up at the falconer, desperate now.

  “We must take her back to Dun Chaill.’Twill save her, as it did our ladies.”

  “Iron…arrows,” Nellie gasped. Her face grew ashen as she took a shallow breath. Wisps of smoke drifted up from her back. “Not much human anymore. Won’t work.”

  “No, you’re still mortal,” Edane told her. “You must fight again, my peyrl. Fight for me, for us. Stay with me.”

  “Tell Jen, the watcher,” she whispered. “His name…Culvar. He’s…”

  The breath escaped from her, but did not return.

  Edane flipped her over, and jerked his arrows from her flesh, which was blackening and smoldering. That meant nothing to him. The demons could not have her. Death could not have her. She was his.

  “She didn’t change completely,” he told Kiaran. “I can still save her. Get me a horse.”

  Kiaran looked up and suddenly shoved him aside, knocking him to the ground. As Edane scrambled up, ready to kill him, the pale body of a naked woman fell atop Nellie’s and went limp.

  As the rest of the clan converged on them, Broden jumped down from his horse, seizing the woman who had fallen. She had such pale blonde hair it resembled moonlight, and skin so white it looked snowy. Sluath glyphs ran from the front of her shoulder and over her left breast to her waist. The trapper gently lifted her from Nellie, and Edane saw blood all over her back. Domnall pressed a finger to the side of her neck.

  “She yet lives,” he told Broden.

  Domnall looked down at Nellie’s still face, and then met Edane’s gaze. “We ride for Dun Chaill.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  BEING FORCED TO retreat from the Mag Raith, who had killed all but a handful of the demons escorting the prince, left all the Sluath in a vile mood. Galan watched Danar send the uninjured out to hunt as soon as they returned to the village. The wounded went to regenerate in the caves. The prince slaughtered two who would not survive the night, and then flew off to hunt by himself. The ever-devoted Danar followed him from a discreet distance.