Taran (Immortal Highlander, Clan Skaraven Book 5): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Knowing Cadeyrn had likely scouted the encampment by now, Brennus quickened his step. When he reached the clearing that the old druid had described he saw it lay close enough to the loch to serve as the field for the final battle. He surveyed it closely until he spotted a low crescent of worn stone tops that spread into the distance. Flen’s claim that the clearing had once contained a sacred grove also proved out. He had said ’twas the very first grove portal, and through it had come all the oaks in the world. Brennus wondered what spending centuries imprisoned by an unfinished spell had done to it. He turned his head and saw a long line of giant wooden totems stretched along the other side of the glen.

  Fack me.

  Now he understood why Hendry had needed Rowan. Most of the towering carved statues had been greatly refined with jointed limbs, feet and hands. Each had been hewn from ancient oak so thick the weight had sunk them into the ground by an arm’s measure. If they were brought to life to fight alongside the famhairean, the Skaraven could never prevail.

  Brennus didn’t want to believe the dark lass would do such to help the mad druids. Yet the work had been done with such skill he doubted even Hendry’s most powerful magic could have achieved the same.

  On his way back toward the druids’ camp Cadeyrn emerged from the deep shadows to intercept him, and signaled for him to follow. From there the war master led him along a path that avoided every tree between them and the ruined settlement. He didn’t understand why until they passed close enough to one for him to see that the tree’s trunk and branches covered the vague shape of an oversized warrior.

  Hendry had disguised the giants to make them seem nothing more than ordinary oaks.

  Once Brennus and Cadeyrn had slipped past the sleeping giants, the war master led him to a barn on the edge of the ruins. Brennus peered into one of the wall cracks and saw the silhouette of a body under a blanket. Silently lifting the bolt bar, he eased the door open just enough for them to step inside.

  Brennus approached the crude bed, and reached down to draw back the blanket. His mouth flattened as he saw Taran chained to the wood. His horse master opened his eyes and looked up at him before eyeing the gaping door. When Brennus touched his arm, a breath escaped him.

  “Close it,” Taran murmured.

  Cade went to ease the door shut while Brennus released Taran’s shackles and helped him to his feet.

  “Wounded?” the chieftain asked lowly.

  Taran shook his head. “The rest of the clan?” he whispered.

  “At the stronghold,” Cadeyrn said quietly as he returned.

  Brennus could see the disappointment in the horse master’s face.

  “Bhaltair and Cade have a plan that ’twill put an end to this. There’ll be no half measures this time, Tran. We’ve come for you both.”

  Though Taran’s jaw worked silently, he nodded toward the back of the barn. Another blanket covered the dark lass, who lay sleeping in a mound of straw. He walked over to her, and saw she had not been chained down.

  Brennus tightened his grip on his sword. He’d never killed a woman, but after seeing what she’d created in the clearing he had no choice. With her power she could create a vast and unstoppable army of totems to serve Hendry and Murdina.

  Taran came to stand beside him, and put his hand on Brennus’s sword arm. He shook his head when the chieftain offered him his blade, and instead knelt down beside the lass.

  Cadeyrn came to watch as the horse master wrapped the blanket around Rowan tightly, covering her up to her chin. When she opened her eyes and gasped he gripped her throat through the wool, applying enough pressure to her veins to render her unconscious. He then rose and regarded Cadeyrn.

  “Carry her,” he said, his voice a thin rasp. “I willnae touch her again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  WATER DRIBBLED FROM Rowan’s nose as she dragged in a deep breath. She sneezed and coughed as she wiped her face, then pushed herself up from the cold ground. It was too dark to see anything, but from the absence of sawdust and wood smells she guessed that she wasn’t in the barn anymore.

  “Am I nightmaring again?”

  Her voice came out with a faint croak, assuring her that she wasn’t.

  Rowan touched her throat, which felt sore, and then looked up at the fire light flickering high overhead. Judging by the rough, round walls she’d fallen in a huge hole. But she’d been asleep in the back of the barn, and the last thing she remembered was seeing Taran bending over her, and two other Skaraven faces behind his. Finally, she put it all together.

  They’d been rescued from the barn and brought back to Dun Mor, but someone had thrown her into the clan’s eagalsloc. Probably Brennus.

  She got to her feet and looked around. The fear pit had been emptied of everything. They hadn’t even left her a bucket of water or a blanket. Judging by the damp condition of her clothes she’d done some water-traveling while unconscious. Dragged through the loch and over half the waterways in Scotland by the boys, no doubt. If it wasn’t for the stronghold’s subterranean hot spring warming the pit she’d probably be hypothermic by now.

  “Hey.” She watched the top of the pit for a minute before she called out in a louder voice, “Hello? Anyone standing guard up there?”

  Two impassive Skaraven faces appeared and looked down over the edge at her.

  “Hi, guys.” She waved. “Uh, there’s been a mistake. I shouldn’t be down here because they rescued me, right? Will one of you throw me a rope ladder?”

  The two clansmen said nothing, but kept watching her.

  “Okay.” That meant she was in the dog house for sure. “Can someone go get the chieftain? I’d like to explain to him what–”

  “Taran told him, Tree-Knower,” one of them said.

  Being called that wasn’t a good sign either. Rowan squinted up at him. “Manath, is that you? Come on, you know me. I helped you build that new floor for the kitchens, remember?”

  “Aye, before you put our horse master in chains and worked him as a slave for our enemy.” He spat in the pit and disappeared.

  “That’s it?” When the other guard didn’t answer her, she made a sweeping gesture. “Any reason I’ve been dumped here without food, water or blankets?”

  The second guard shrugged. “Mayhap the chieftain reckons you’ll die faster.”

  After he vanished from sight Rowan rubbed her gritty eyes. “I risk my life trying to keep your horse master alive and foil the big plot to destroy the clan and the rest of the world. So of course, my reward is to slowly starve to death.”

  She sat down by one of the walls and closed her eyes. She’d been through hell and back so often she should have become the devil’s tour guide, but she wouldn’t whine. She’d always suspected that she would die here anyway. She’d done her best, and once again it hadn’t been good enough for anyone. Perrin would probably be relieved. So would Brennus, once he got over the fact that he’d sentenced a woman to a pretty nasty death. He’d never admit it, but she suspected that the chieftain had a huge soft spot for the ladies.

  Taran would be sorry too. In his case he couldn’t help himself. According to that dream she’d had before being rescued he’d always be in love with her. If they didn’t get together in this life, they’d have another shot in the next. He just wouldn’t tell his Skaraven brothers about their little reincarnation pact, because that would mean admitting that he had druid blood.

  God, how he must hate her.

  Hours passed as Rowan tried to doze. In her head she kept reliving every good moment she’d had with Taran since coming to Dun Mor. The mornings they’d sat together talking about the horses while they drank Lily’s spiciest brew. The walks they’d taken down by the river when the weather had been clear. The long, lovely nights in the hayloft, when neither of them wanted to talk or sleep. Just being with him had been the best time of her life.

  Rowan woke to the sound of Manath’s voice saying something about the chieftain’s orders.

  “I’m not
on guard duty, so they don’t apply to me,” she heard Althea say. “Now drop that ladder over the side, or I’ll make one out of ice.” She paused. “After I use my druid power to turn you both into giant snow cones.”

  Rowan didn’t move as she watched the rope ladder first descend and then Althea climb down it. The botanist had her carry-all slung over one shoulder, a torch in one hand and a bundle of blankets under that arm. As soon as she stepped off the guards yanked up the ladder, and she glared up at them.

  “Go get some water for her,” she ordered as she planted the torch she carried. “I want a bucket of hot and another of cold.”

  “Can you order me a cheeseburger and fries, too?” Rowan asked as she watched Althea start unpacking her bag.

  “Don’t be a smartass,” the botanist snapped. “You’re already in enough trouble.”

  “But it’s my birthday.” She took a moment to enjoy the horrified look Althea gave her. “I’ve been counting the days since they took us. In the future I would have turned twenty-two today.”

  “Let’s work on getting you to twenty-three.” Althea tossed a blanket over Rowan, and handed her a huge cheese sandwich. “My herb bread, and some kind of cheese that Lily’s been making.” She frowned as she thought for a moment. “Cheshire, like the cat, maybe? I don’t know. It’s a British thing. I’d stick a candle in it if I could.”

  The bread smelled delicious, and the doc had somehow toasted it so the cheese inside had melted. Rowan also knew if she took a bite she’d choke on it, so she put it on her lap.

  “Don’t do that,” Althea said, and sat down beside her, her expression softening. “I can help. Just tell me what happened. Was it Hendry? Did he stick you with a charm, like he did to make Perr stop eating?”

  “No, Doc. Everything I did for the nutjobs, I did willingly.” When Althea smacked the side of her head she yelped. “Ow. What was that for?”

  “You mean, besides you being an idiot? I’ll need a month to write the list.” The other woman’s bright eyes narrowed. “Look, I get that you’re angry about this. The whole medieval pit-drop without a fair trial thing sucks. But we can talk Bren around it. I just need to know what you were thinking. Is it true that you were meeting a giant on the sly? And you made him a new body? What the hell, Rowan?”

  “Chopping firewood and mucking out stalls got old.” She faked a yawn. “Want me to make you something before I die a lingering and horrible death? Like maybe a drying cabinet for your herbs? Or a tiny box for your conscience?”

  “You’re that angry. Well, it’s your birthday, so you’re entitled.” Althea rubbed her brow. “Rowan, think of me as the lawyer that you can’t afford. Please. Tell me the damn truth before you dig this hole so deep that you never get out.”

  Rowan handed the sandwich back to her. “I appreciate the offer of representation, Counselor, but I have to pass. You’ve never liked me, and you feel guilty about that, but let it go. I’m done.”

  “Shut up,” Althea snapped. “How could anyone like you? You’re as lovable as a pissed-off skunk. You have the social skills of a rampaging gorilla. Every time you open your mouth you make everyone want to punch you in the face. Even Emeline, who is the closest thing to a saint that we’ve got.”

  “She doesn’t punch,” Rowan reminded her. “She slaps, like a girl. Like you.”

  “I’m not buying your B.S. this time.” The botanist took a deep breath and said in a calmer tone, “I know the one thing you never do is put yourself first. Perrin had that spot, then everyone else who needed you. Cade told us what you did for the others during the escape, taking point, finding food, dragging Emmie up the mountain on your back. He said without your help he couldn’t have gotten them out.”

  “I haven’t done squat for you,” she pointed out.

  “You didn’t kill me at the forest farm, even when I wanted you to.” She leaned her head back against the dirt wall. “You also saved me a bunch of other times before that. Whenever I thought I’d fall apart I’d watch you. You were like a machine, you just kept going. No matter what they did to you, you never gave up.” She leaned closer. “So don’t you give me this crap about being done. You’re stronger than that. You’re stronger than any of us.”

  Rowan cocked her head to watch the guards staring down at them. “And look where it got me.”

  “Fine. I’ll do what I can until you’re ready to talk about it.” She plopped the sandwich back in her lap. “But in return for my incredible generosity and support you’ll eat, and wash, and keep warm.” She touched her hand. “Rowan, I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Rowan nodded, mainly to placate the botanist, and then watched as she called for the ladder and climbed back out of the pit. The guards then lowered two buckets of water, both made of thin copper, and a stone ewer intended for nature’s calls.

  “Raiding the forge so I don’t get hold of any wood. Smart.” Rowan set the sandwich aside and went to untie the ropes. She flinched as the guards cut them and they fell on her head. “Hey, do that with the ladder and Althea won’t be able to come down here again.”

  A few moments later the rope ladder dropped into the pit at her feet.

  Rowan smiled as she picked it up and stroked the knotted rope. Unlike the hemp rope they’d used to lower the buckets, this cord had been made from thin, twisted strips of fiber peeled from the inner bark of an elm. The tree fiber definitely gave it more strength.

  She had her wood after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BRENNUS LOOKED UP from the scroll map as his wife emerged from the lower levels. Althea had a look on her face that prompted him to say to his second, “Fetch Taran for me, War Master.”

  Cadeyrn surveyed the lady’s progress and then promptly stood and departed. All around the chieftain the other Skaraven in the great hall suddenly found their own reasons not to be there.

  “You didn’t have to send the guys running,” Althea said as she sat down across from him. “I’m not planning to go frosty on the clan.”

  “Only on your mate?” Brennus countered, catching a snow flake that drifted into the space between them, and nodded at the trail of the same that she’d left in her wake.

  “Well, now. That would be the mate who dropped an unconscious, soaking-wet woman into an inescapable dirt pit. On her birthday, as it happens.” She offered him an icy smile. “Now that’s cold.”

  Brennus reached across to take her hand in his. “Rowan created over a hundred new totems for Hendry. I saw them with my own eyes. She kept Taran as a chained slave and forced him to do the work of it with her. Hendry meant for her to sacrifice him for some ritual.”

  “Maybe she was playing along with them” Althea said. “You know, like most helpless captives do when they’re trying not to get killed? I speak from experience here.”

  “Before Hendry took them, Rowan met with a famhair in the Great Woods, and made for him a form that would easily permit him to impersonate my horse master.” He held onto her fingers when she would have taken them away. “’Tis too much for me to believe her innocent, my heart. If no’ for Taran the lass wouldnae breathe now.”

  “Did you ever think that if not for Rowan, Taran would have been killed?” Althea eyed his hand until he released her. “I don’t care what it looks like. She had her reasons for everything she did, I know it. Besides, like Cade said, if she’d really gone over to the enemy then she should have shown them how to find the stronghold.”

  “Mayhap Hendry bid her wait until she finished the totems,” he countered. “With the additional giants he could easily overwhelm Dun Mor and the clan.”

  His wife sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “How can you assume all that? You didn’t even give her a chance to explain herself.” She dropped her hand. “You don’t know Rowan, but I do. She’s so damn stubborn and proud that now she’ll starve herself just to spite you. I’m sure you’ll find out the truth eventually, but by then she’ll be dead.”

  His wife seemed just as co
nvinced of Rowan’s innocence as he was of her guilt, which gave him pause. Althea often saw things that escaped him, and had proven him mistaken more than once.

  As Cadeyrn approached with his horse master, Brennus said, “I must speak with Tran on the matter. Permit me do that without your aid.”

  Althea grumbled something under her breath about him sleeping on a couch, but subsided into silence.

  “My lady.” The horse master nodded to Brennus’s wife as he came to the table. He looked weary, but the grime and bruises he’d sported from his captivity had gone. “Chieftain.”

  Brennus gestured for him and Cadeyrn to sit, and tackled the matter directly. “We’ve left Rowan in the eagalsloc until I decide what’s to be done with her. This doesnae sit well with my lady, but the lass gives me no cause to trust her again. She should answer for what she’s done, but ’twasnae directly visited on the clan. She didnae lead the enemy to Dun Mor. Nor can I deny that she had some reason to act as she did, unfathomable as ’tis to me.”

  “Let me speak with the lass,” Cadeyrn said. “I’ll ferret it out of her.”

  “You neednae, War Master,” Taran said. His voice ever calm and thoughtful now took on a hard edge. “’Twas my doing, Chieftain. I drove Rowan to turn against the clan.”

  “What?” Astonished, Cadeyrn regarded him. “How so?”

  “I persuaded the lady to believe that I cared for her,” the horse master said tonelessly. “I used other means to control her will. ’Tis why she remained in the stables with me. When she discovered my deception, she left me to return to the stronghold. For what followed I must shoulder the fault.”

  Althea finally broke her silence. “Why would you do that to Rowan?”

  “My motives mean naught, my lady.” The horse master met Brennus’s gaze. “If you’re to judge her, then you must judge me as well.”

  Taran’s words echoed in the chieftain’s thoughts: Other means to control her will. The horse master could do so with any mount, but his centaur didn’t give him like power over humans. Brennus recalled what Emeline had told him about sensing druid magic connecting Rowan and Taran. The horse master had been long keeping a secret of his own, and the chieftain suspected now that it was a power he should not have possessed.