The Chieftain's Daughter

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “Then I’ll take the extra lashes myself!” Rory hollered.

  “You are unable!” His father snarled.

  “Killian is my cousin, and I believe full well Alainn to be my cousin also, so by blood law I can serve the punishment for either!”

  “As can I!” Riley angrily announced.

  “And I, too, will take the lashes for my granddaughter, Hugh, if you insist on being so unjust! Allow your sons to bear the five extra lashes you’ve added and I will take a portion of those originally ordered to be issued to Alainn!”

  Hugh O’Brien stared at his two sons and his wife’s elderly father in exasperation and in fury at their defiance and opposition of his word.

  He finally proclaimed his decision on the matter. “My nephew shall receive only the woman’s five lashes, but she is to be taken to the dungeon while the lashes are being issued, for I doubt she’ll be able to still her unnatural powers while her husband’s skin is torn from his back.”

  The chieftain ordered his guards to take her away and they had to pull her from Killian. He removed his leine and leaned against the whipping post where the other guard secured his wrists.

  Only partway down the corridor when the first lash was issued, Alainn heard the sound Killian had once spoken of and she screamed out in horror and in deep despair. She wanted to prevent the other lashes. She tried to move her arm and when the pain seared through it, she called upon her powers, but the throbbing in her head seemed to render her helpless and when she saw more guards heading toward her she felt herself growing faint and she collapsed against the startled guards who had been taking her off to the dungeon.

  This time Alainn awoke to a large group of curious men staring down at her. Remembering her torn garment and feeling the coldness of the damp air on her exposed skin, she tied Killian’s overcoat around her waist to ensure she remained covered. The small window high above them allowed only enough moonlight within so she could make out the shapes of the other prisoners. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she was more accurately able to assess their condition. Many were obviously weak and sickly in appearance and surely had not eaten recently. She heard a voice from behind the bars in the next chamber.

  “Ah, ’tis the evil sorceress herself, finally made to pay for her malevolent deeds?”

  It was the voice of Richard McGilvary and Alainn silently thanked Mac for seeing to it she was not thrown into a cell with that vile and untrustworthy man. And she thought it ironic that he whom she had always felt was undeniably evil was referring to her as the same. She surveyed the crowd of men around her again. She judged that only two of them possessed strength or sturdy health enough to pose much of a threat to her. The two men were from a neighboring clan and at the moment they were leering at her in a most disturbing manner.

  “Sure, we may as well take pleasure while we can and make the best of our present predicament!” The eldest and largest of the two poked his companion and she noticed the toothless smile the other revealed as he agreed.

  “You hold her, brother, and I’ll have a go at her, then you might have your turn with her!”

  “And why should you be allowed to have her first?” the brother argued and shoved the other.

  Alainn sat up straighter and pushed herself back against the cold hard stones of the dungeon wall. Her head was fuzzy and her pain so great she glanced down at her amulet and realized though it was meant to protect her, it surely prevented her from using the full extent of her powers.

  Killian had asked that she not use her powers, but she was certain he would understand the necessity of doing so in preventing herself from being raped, and in protecting their unborn child. She forcefully yanked the chain from around her neck and stuffed the amulet within her pocket, all the while trying to decipher whether this was the cell her mother had claimed Teige O’Rorke’s family crest was hidden within. Because she’d been unconscious both times she’d be brought to the dungeon, she was not able to discern her exact location within the chambers. She envisioned the many stones, thinking hard on the thirteenth stone, but none appeared to be glowing and she could sense no stone that had been charmed for her.

  The brothers must have decided to forget about their quarrel and just get to something more pleasant. One of the unsavory two had reached for her just as one rodent ran between them, and another scurried behind her back and into a small hole in the wall. Alainn cried out at both the pain in her shoulder as he’d tried to roughly pull her to him, and the sight of the filthy, disgusting creatures. She wished within her mind that the many felines within the dairy shed could be here to rid her of at least some of the unpleasantness around her. The man released her when perhaps nearly a dozen cats appeared out of nowhere.

  “The witch has called her familiars to her aid!” Richard McGilvary loudly warned the other prisoners from his location in the opposite cell.

  “You’re a witch?” The nearly toothless man stepped back and tripped over his brother as he posed the question. They both fell to the ground and upon trying to stand again stumbled over one other in attempt to put as great a distance as possible between themselves and the woman.

  “Aye, I am a powerful witch, and I swear by all the many powers I possess, I shall turn the entire lot of you into toads if any one of you dares to lay another hand on me!” She raged in an ominous voice.

  She chanted eerily and then spoke in first druid, then fairy, and opened her eyes wide as she moved her hands about dramatically for affect. She thought of the small pond not far from the castle wall and she envisioned the many large toads within. Soon she was rewarded when a goodly amount of the creatures appeared, all confused and croaking loudly, each hopping about wildly in their unfamiliar surroundings.

  The entire group of men, even the ones which had previously seemed barely able to move, backed away and clustered tightly against the far wall. She was pleased by their reaction, and was nearly thankful to the horrid man in the other cell for alerting the others to her abilities. She concentrated some of her powers in attempting to heal her maladies. She sensed warmth radiating to her wrist and her shoulder. She thought the pain had eased at least somewhat.

  Glancing at her companions within the cell, she noticed how filthy and perilously thin they appeared. As she’d done in the fairy glade, she imagined the many platters that now filled the tables of the Great Hall and she summoned some to her. They now rested on the ground before the men so obviously in need of sustenance, yet they failed to draw any nearer to the food she had provided.

  “Eat! ’Tis safe, and assuredly retrieved from the O’Brien’s very own table. Tonight you shall all dine like nobility.” She smiled at them though they appeared to be frightened still.

  Finally, one wretched old man dared to reach out and pull a scone from the tray and he ravenously stuffed it in his mouth. Soon after, the others followed his lead. Before long, the entire tray lay emptied of its larder. Alainn glanced at it again and they were further awed to see it filled once more. She also procured several jugs of water and goblets of a royal quality. She’d considered wine, but knew that would do little to keep the peace if they became filled with drink. While they ate and drank she scoured the entire area and tried to decide again what stone would be the thirteenth. Every way she calculated it, and with every stone she looked upon, she could envision no crest beneath it. Using her powers, she willed the stones possibly deemed to be the correct ones plucked effortlessly from the wall by way of her magic, but to no avail. None of the stones glowed as Mara claimed the charmed stone would do, and no crest was found behind any.

  She rested her head against the stone wall of the adjoining cell, and tried to decide her precise position in the dungeon. She could sense no metal objects anywhere within the dungeon bar the chains that hung from the walls or were fastened to ankles of some of the prisoners apparently perceived as being the most dangerous.

  Alainn closed her eyes, called upon her magic and was pleased to find herself in the next cell. There were onl
y a handful of men in this one and they all backed up against the far wall when she appeared to walk through the stone wall as if she were an apparition. When she provided them with a tray of food as well, they all eagerly grabbed the food and stayed clear of her. She did this seven more times in seven more dungeon cells, and no thorough searching of the area provided her with any hint of where the missing crest could be.

  Only one cell remained and it was presently solely occupied by Richard McGilvary. She did not attempt to go in there. She feared him even though he was surely still wounded from his fall from the tower wall. She sensed how utterly evil a man he was and she did not wish to make contact with him. And if the evil being who often dwelled within the depths of the dungeon was here, it was certain he would choose to be in the company of Richard McGilvary.

  She tried once more to direct her thoughts to Mara, to ask for her telepathic assistance in locating the crest, but could sense no response to her query. Alainn felt completely disoriented down here and her muddled thoughts kept going to Killian. Where was he and how had he fared the lashing? She wondered if Hugh O’Brien had allowed him to be seen by the physician; if he might have applied water from the spring or healing ointment to his wounds.

  She heard the sound of the upper door opening and saw the guards carrying a man down the winding steps and handling him in an unusually careful manner. When she glanced through the bars on the door she realized why. She saw the broad, muscular back and noticed the deep slashes upon it. She was in disbelief that they had brought Killian to the dungeon. Alainn gasped at the extent of his wounds. He appeared to be unconscious as his head lagged forward and his knees appeared limp. The two men struggled under his considerable weight and then she noticed the captain lend a hand to his men. They headed toward the cell that housed Richard McGilvary, but Mac discouraged that.

  “No, you’ll not put him in with that fiend. He’d surely want revenge for Killian’s killin’ his brother, and the lad is in no condition to defend himself at the moment.”

  “Mac!” Alainn pleaded as she placed her hands on the bars of the cell. “You must put him in here with me; you know I can heal him if I am allowed!”

  “The chieftain has instructed you not be allowed to be together this night, lass!”

  “Please, Mac, I beg of you! Name whatever favor I can offer you and I assure you it will be done. Killian must be healed for he’ll stand no chance in tomorrow’s challenge when he has been wounded so severely!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Before the captain had time to consider Alainn’s words, Richard McGilvary spouted his unwanted opinion. “Accept her offer, Captain; why not ask her for favors only a woman such as herself can provide. And allow us all to watch while you accomplish that surely most desirous feat!” The vile man lecherously advised the Captain of the Guard.

  Mac furiously responded to the crass suggestion by smashing his fist against the face of the man leaning directly against the bars of his cell. The man staggered backward and held his nose which now spewed blood. The captain pulled a large metal key from his tunic pocket and unlocked the cell that held the steward’s son. He roughly grabbed the frightened man who now cowered away from the large Scot apparently expecting a severe beating. But he was simply thrown into another cell and Mac gestured toward the now empty cell for the guards to place Killian inside. Then he opened the other cell and allowed Alainn to go inside with her new husband. She attempted to sense if the dark creature may be lurking in the shadows of the chamber. She was grateful that was not proven to be true. The guards had carefully lowered Killian to the ground and she noticed his eyes had begun to open and he moaned as he attempted to move.

  “Feckin’ hell!” Killian moaned once again and Alainn watched him as he tried to roll on his side so that his wounds would be less affected.

  She had never before heard him use that type of language and she thought he may not even be aware of her presence. Mac had closed the door behind them and was turning the key when Alainn called out to him.

  “Mac, I thank you greatly for this, but I must ask more of you, I fear. If you could arrange it, would you be capable of having the physician bring my ointments and elixirs? The remedies for deep skin wounds,” she added as she knelt beside Killian and assessed the damage that had been done to him on her account.

  The captain heard the tears in her voice and he looked in to see her tenderly touching her healing hands to her husband’s open wounds. He winced and the chamber was filled with the sounds of her weeping. He turned away surely not wanting to intrude on this intimate moment as he saw Killian take her hand in his.

  “No tears, Alainn! ’Tis not nearly as bad as it appears, I’m certain!” He attempted to ease her guilt.

  “ ’Tis worse than I imagined it would be, Killian.”

  Even in the moonlight as she looked down upon the five lengthy gashes on his back, she noticed the blood had dried around three of the wounds. The other two remained bleeding profusely and had left bright trails of red down his trews and on the ground beside him. “You should not have insisted on having done this; I could have born the pain of it! It would have been better to have allowed me to endure it!” She whimpered as the tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.

  He moved in attempt to look at her and he grimaced and cussed once more.

  “And have this lovely body scarred? It would be unthinkable!” He managed as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “It would have been better, for I face no challenge tomorrow and I could have endured it, I swear it!”

  “Aye, but I would not see you in pain, Lainna, and how could I risk a torment that might have caused you to lose our child? You’ve already suffered enough. Those welts and bruises are unforgivable, and sure the bone in your arm is broken!”

  “Aye, but it has begun to mend, you know how quickly I heal when I employ my powers.”

  He opened one eye as he had closed them both again to conceal the intense pain he was feeling. Even to breathe sent searing pain down his back and when she gently lie her hands upon him it appeared he may fall unconscious again.

  “Forgive me, Killian, but I must touch you if I am to attempt to heal you.”

  “Aye, do what you must, Alainn.”

  She tried to be as determinedly gentle as she could, but even the slightest amount of pressure sent his body into uncontrollable shivering. These were the deepest lashes she had ever viewed before and she had certainly viewed many through the years as her time as a healer. She fought to control herself and not cause the guard who issued them to die a painful death. She reasoned that he had only been following orders demanded by Hugh O’Brien and perhaps it was the chieftain who should be dealt with through way of her powers. If he died this day, there would be no challenge tomorrow. But by killing the chieftain would that bring about the death of their unborn son, for Hugh had not yet done his part in accepting her and ending the curse?

  She felt her anger beginning to grow and she felt helpless to do anything about it. She would need to allow her own blood to mingle with her husband’s blood. The guards had taken her anelace and Killian’s weapons, too, of course. The blood from her head wound had long since dried and there seemed no item available to inflict a sharp slice on her hand. The stones in the wall were mostly rounded and worn with age so they would not cause a deep slice on her hand. She actually thought about biting her own arm and when she put her wrist to her mouth and Killian noticed, she noticed the horrified look that crossed his face.

  “What exactly are you doin’, Alainn?”

  “My blood is necessary to heal you!” She explained, and then she thought of her amulet within her pocket. She pulled it out and Killian noticed that as well.

  “You dared to remove it?” he asked with a tone of disapproval.

  “I needed to use my powers and it bridles them too severely!”

  She took the rounded metal disc and rubbed it vigorously against a rough stone, hoping to create a sharp edge;
when it began to glow brightly, Alainn hastily dropped it to the ground.

  “Shite!” she declared as it burned her skin, “It has been charmed so that it cannot be defaced. Cursed druids!” she yelled so loudly the entire dungeon could hear her.

  “Put the damnable thing back around your neck, Alainn, and just do whatever healing you’re able with only your hands!” Killian ordered.

  “It will not be sufficient and not quick enough to aid you in tomorrow’s challenge. I know I have promised you I won’t ask you to revoke the challenge but, Killian, in light of all that has transpired and your injuries...”

  “The challenge will take place, Alainn!” He loudly exclaimed and then moaned even louder as he attempted to find a more comfortable position.

  “Are you so damnably eager to make me a widow?” She objected.

  “Sit yourself down here, Alainn, and let me lay my head upon your wee lap, for I’m feelin’ as though I might need to rest awhile! Let me fall asleep to the closeness of your soft body around me and the sensation of our child against me.”

  “Killian, I need to heal you, and Mac will return with the healing balms and ointments, and an able elixir that will dull your pain and make you sleep.”

  “I’ll take no elixirs, Alainn, for though they may be capable of dulling the pain, they will too severely impair my senses as well, and slow my reactions, and that would be detrimental to the bouts tomorrow.”

  “Killian, you will be in no condition to fight tomorrow. Allow me to see you even so much as attempt to lift your arm or shoulder, much less hold a sword!”

  “By the morrow it will be much improved!” He winced and groaned even as he barely moved his elbow.

  “That’s horse shite and you well know it. Cursedly stubborn man, damnably headstrong Irish!” She declared as she stood and began knocking on and then pounding each stone along the doorway.

  “So are you attemptin’ to pull the castle walls down on us, then, Alainn? Is that how you plan to end my sufferin’ and prevent the challenge from takin’ place?”