Brennus (Immortal Highlander, Clan Skaraven Book 1): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  Althea peered at her. “What?”

  “You have the touch of ice. ’Tis one of the greatest powers known to druid kind. In time you shall have only to think it, and freeze anything you wish.” Murdina smiled gently. “You shall release it on the storm above us. All of it, just now, and make a blizzard so cold it shall freeze the Skaraven in their tracks. If you dinnae, Dha will crush these wench’s skulls together, until their brains mix.”

  The guard seized Emeline and Perrin on either side of their faces, and pushed their heads together, making his huge hands into a vise.

  “No,” Rowan shouted at Murdina as she jerked on the cage’s wooden slats, trying to loosen them enough for her to get an arm out and dislodge the locking bar.

  “Ro, stop,” Lily said, trying to pull her back. “There’s nothing you can do for her now.”

  “She’s too weak. They’ll kill her this time. Don’t just sit there, help me.”

  When Lily shook her head Rowan launched herself at the slats, throwing her full weight into them. She bounced off and fell on her face. She shoved herself up and gripped the slats with her fingers. What was happening to Perrin? She couldn’t see anything through this damn cage.

  The slats slowly moved apart under her hands.

  Rowan snatched her hands away, and then reached between the slats, sliding her hand through easily. “What in God’s name?”

  She thought fast, recalling everything the crazy druids had said about them. The five of them were supposed to be druidesses, capable of great power blah blah blah. She’d heard them bickering when Hendry came back from burning a druid settlement, and he’d told Murdina that the flame-haired wench had the touch of ice, and could freeze solid whatever she touched. She hadn’t thought of Althea having flame-colored hair because like the others she assumed she’d been killed trying to escape.

  If Althea was able to freeze something by touching it…

  Rowan put her hands on the slats again, and thought of making them twice as wide. This time they moved apart under her hands, creating a foot-wide gap.

  “What are you doing?” Lily asked.

  “Getting out of here.” She looked over at Murdina and Dha, and then moved to the back of the cage. “Sit in the front so they don’t see me. Do it, Stover.”

  As soon as Lily’s body blocked hers Rowan put her hands on the back of the cage and thought of the slats separating to a gap wide enough for her to crawl through. The cage shook, and wood splintered, but when she let go there was a Rowan-sized hole waiting for her.

  Without another word she crawled out, running for the farmhouse, and the line of clothes Murdina had hung out to dry and never brought in. Taking down a snow-crusted blanket, she wrapped herself in it and covered her head.

  The drifts around the farmhouse never melted, and she stayed close to them as she crept closer to where Dha had Perrin and Emeline. She stopped at the woodpile long enough to grab a big branch, which she tucked under the blanket. When she looked over again she could see Althea’s white face, and the red handprint blazing on her cheek. Then she heard what Murdina ordered her to do, and watched Dha trap Emeline and Perrin between his hands.

  Spear, she thought, and felt the wood smooth and lengthen in her hand. When she glanced inside the blanket she saw the branch had changed into a smooth rod with a sharply pointed tip.

  Rowan had become the darts champion at every watering hole she’d ever frequented. She just had to think of the spear like a really big dart.

  She looked over at Althea, who spotted her in the same moment, but didn’t give her away by turning her head. All the other woman did was make a tiny nod before she closed her eyes.

  Dr. Useless thought she was going to kill her? Rowan felt like doing it just so she wouldn’t be disappointed. The more she thought about it, however, the more it made sense. Kill the doc, no blizzard, and they’d be rescued by these Skaraven guys.

  Only Dha would be pissed, and Perrin would die before the cavalry came. No, she had to stick to the original target.

  Rowan moved to a spot where she had the best angle, and took out the spear. As Murdina moved closer to Althea, she hefted the giant-size dart and hurled it at the guard’s face.

  The spear buried itself in Dha’s left eye, ramming through it into what Rowan hoped was his brain. He staggered backward, roaring with pain, and Perrin and Emeline fell into the mud.

  “Great idea,” Althea said as Rowan rushed past her. “Mind if I steal it?”

  “Isn’t that what you college nerds always do?” she snarled as she grabbed her sister, and helped her to her feet.

  Without warning the temperature dropped from icy to Arctic.

  A white shimmer moved through the rain, pulling the droplets together into long icicles. They grew larger as they came down, and then stopped short of impaling Murdina. Slowly they spun away from the druidess, collecting more rain as they grew thicker and longer. A bolt of lightning rammed down, striking a tree behind the farmhouse, and the flash of light made the icy spears glitter like some enormous, fragmented chandelier.

  The crazy druidess turned around, looking at the floating ice as frost crept up her skirts and whitened cloak. She hurried up to Althea, who had frost-coated eyelashes and patches of ice sparkling on her face.

  “Stop,” she shrieked. “’Tis too much. Do you wish to die?”

  Snowflakes drifted down from Althea’s lips as they curved into a stiff smile. “To. Save. Him.” She dragged in a choppy breath. “Yes.”

  Rowan held on grimly to her sister as she watched Althea’s eyes go white and opaque as they froze. The ice spears almost dropped to the ground, but then they stopped, flew up and hurled themselves at the trees behind the farmhouse.

  “Come on,” she urged Perrin, who was sagging against her. “Let’s go.”

  She didn’t get more than ten steps before Murdina appeared in front of her. She held her sister against her and balled up a fist, her arm trembling with the effort. When had she become so weak? She’d always been the strong one. She had to stop giving into this crap and stand up for herself and Perrin.

  “You’re not taking her,” she told the druidess.

  “Neither shall you.” Murdina’s eyes opened wide, and shimmered with a strange light.

  Rowan couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and then she felt Perrin try to grab her. The light from the druidess’s eyes filled her head, reaching down into her chest and seizing her heart in a glittering grip.

  The ground rushed up at her face, and everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ALTHEA KNEW SHE was dying. That wasn’t her problem. She couldn’t see properly out of her eyes anymore, and she couldn’t blink, which she had never fully appreciated until she’d lost the ability to do so. Someone had helped her with the ice spears. One of the other women, she was sure of it. She just would have liked to know who before she died.

  Maybe Emeline. She deserves an awesome power like that.

  She watched Rowan try to get her sister away, only to be dropped by Murdina. Dha finally pulled the spear out of his head and tried to use it on Rowan, but the druidess stopped him. She murmured something to him, and he grabbed the sisters and stalked out of sight.

  No blood on the spear, Althea noticed. The famhair didn’t bleed, but from Dha’s reaction to the spear in the eye, they felt pain. She wished she understood what that meant. She wished her eyes were clear, so she could see Brennus one last time when he came for her.

  He would come too. She never doubted it for a moment.

  I never got to tell you that I love you. I wish I’d done that.

  Little black flecks fell in front of her frozen face, and then the tree trunk behind her began to shake. She wondered if it would fall over and crush her under it. That would be a faster death than this. Her heart thudded sluggishly in her chest as she saw a leaf growing beside her face. It came with a new greenish-brown branch, which curled around her neck. She was pretty sure that her legs had frozen solid,
but she could hear something going on down there too. More branches appeared around her, and roots spread out on the ground beneath her.

  I hope they bury me here, under this miracle of a tree.

  Althea smiled inside as she watched the roots creep out in all directions. She put together a wild theory. Somehow the dead oak had started growing new limbs, which were covering her like a cocoon of thatching, and was sinking new roots into the ground. She might have been afraid—roots hadn’t been her friends the last time she’d been here—but she had the strangest sense that she was being hugged, not attacked. As if the tree wanted to protect her.

  You’re a little too late for that.

  Her body thawed a little under the cover of the armor of wooden branches, but she still couldn’t feel anything. Her nerves had turned into ice, it seemed. She’d really done a number on herself by pouring her power out into the air like that.

  It was really cool, though.

  Giants came rushing out of the woods, their bodies impaled by the ice spears. They seemed to be in a big hurry. They grabbed Murdina and carried her off. Rowan and Perrin too.

  Emeline stumbled toward her, and reached for the branches that were now sprouting thousands of new leaves. “Thank you, Althea. Thank you for trying. I’ll never forget you.”

  She wouldn’t either, Althea thought, and felt her lips crack as she managed a final smile. Be good to yourself, Emeline—and stop dieting. You’re beautiful the way you are.

  The nurse made it another couple of yards before one of the famhairean grabbed her and carried her off.

  Althea heard the battle-cry of the Skaraven, and looked toward the sound. Brennus would be at the very front of the riders, leading the charge. This was why she had hung on as long as she had. His face was the last one she wanted to see.

  “Not mine?”

  Althea looked into her Uncle Gene’s eyes, the mirrors of her own, and felt her heart miss a beat. He was standing right in front of her, his Stetson pushed back on his head, his scuffed boots and faded jeans and plaid shirt exactly as she remembered. Only he hadn’t been like that the last time she’d seen him, hooked up to machines in a hospital bed, his body being eaten alive by a bacterial infection with no cure. He’d gotten it when he’d cut his hand repairing some wire fencing. Necrotizing fasciitis had taken only four days to kill him.

  “Now don’t be like that, honey,” he drawled. “It was my time to go. I had a good run. Had you to be my little girl. I should have managed a wife in there, but I never was a ladies’ man.” He reached out and rubbed his thumb over the tears frozen to her eyelashes. “That made you the love of my life, I reckon.”

  I’ve missed you so much, Uncle.

  “You didn’t give up, though, and that made me so proud. I’ve been watching over you, Althea Rose. You saved so many lives while you were here. Babies, and old folks, mothers and fathers, and more to come when they use your research. You were right about those ferns, honey. They’re even going to squash that bug that did me in.” His lean face grew serious. “You got a lot more to do.”

  But I’m dying.

  “That’s true enough,” he said, nodding. “We all have to die. But our kind come back, Althea. We always come back.” He checked the big chunky watch on his wrist. “It’s my time now. I love you, honey.”

  Althea watched him fade away, just as her heartbeat was doing now. She heard the thunderous beat of horse’s hooves, and saw through the leaves covering her face the first of the Skaraven burst out of the forest, driving dozens of giants back in a furious wave.

  Brennus rode with his sword slicing through the air, through the famhairean falling away from him, their limbs severed. As dozens more rushed at him from the woods he wheeled about and roared, “Fire.”

  A hail of flaming arrows flew from the trees, striking the giants and setting them alight. They clawed away the shafts but the burning points melted into them, and fire blazoned out of the wounds. One by one the famhairean began to fall to their knees as their bodies went up in flames.

  Hendry appeared on the other side of the encampment, and shouted at the few giants who hadn’t been struck. “They use Pritani fire. We cannae fight them here. Leave with me, now.”

  The giants who could move fled from the Skaraven, who still fought against those who burned with their unquenchable fire. From the charred remains that toppled, Althea saw the light of the giants’ souls drift up, dragging something along with them.

  The chieftain fought his way to the oak tree, but two giants nearly consumed by flame tried to drag him from his horse. His sword flashed as he cut them down, and then he leapt from his saddle to land in front of her.

  “Althea.”

  Now she could go. I love you, I love you. “I love you.”

  Her eyelids came down at last, and closed before the final beat of her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  AT TWILIGHT BRENNUS carried Althea’s body up from the river and into Dun Mor. Behind him the clan herded their mounts and his to the stables Taran had rebuilt, where the Horse Master would see to watering and feeding them. He heard Cadeyrn issuing orders to the men to stand sentry and begin patrols. As tired and battered as they were, the clan made not a single complaint.

  Inside the keepe Ruadri fetched a soft blanket and spread it over the table in his chamber, where Brennus stopped and looked down at his love’s pale face. The frost and ice on her skin and eyes had melted away in the river, but her body remained stiff and unyielding.

  Brennus looked blankly at the shaman. “I left her gown at McAra’s.”

  “Taran went to fetch it after…after the battle, and gave it to me.” Ruadri brought the emerald gown to the table. “Cadeyrn reports that the famhairean fled through a grove.” When Brennus didn’t reply, the shaman looked upon Althea for a long moment. “I’ll leave you with her, and see to the burial.”

  Brennus nodded absently, and began unfastening her jacket.

  Removing what she had brought with her from her time gave Brennus some comfort. She would go to her grave dressed as his lady wife. She became that the moment he tied his ring around her lovely neck. He would leave it with her, bury it with her, so that she remained his wife forever. Then he would have to find some reason to go on living.

  There were many reasons, surely, but he could not recall one.

  “I suspected they would see us coming for them,” he told her as he eased the gown over her fiery hair. “’Twas why I had the men tip their arrows with Pritani fire. To burn them out of their bodies, and drive them into the trees. They cannot move in new forms until they are carved.” He tugged the gown into place, and eased her over onto her side so he could tie the back laces. “’Twas meant to give us time to get you and the others out to the lochan.”

  Once he had dressed her, he found a comb and tended to her hair. He could do nothing about the bruise on her face, or the blackening of her ears and fingers, but they mattered not. When he looked at her he saw only her beauty.

  “We’ve no more time, my lady,” he said hoarsely. “I must part from you this day, and I cannae think of how I might.” His voice dropped low. “How may I carry you to your rest, when you go without me? You vowed you would stay, but no’ like this. How can you be gone from me?” He drew her up into his arms, and held her against him. “How could you die with words of love on your lips and no’ hear mine?” He whispered into her hair. “’Tis no’ what I wanted. I had so much to tell you.” His voice began to fail him. “So much.”

  Brennus held her like that for a long while. Too long, but his men left him alone to be with her. When he finally carried her out he saw they had fashioned a burial platform for her. Flowers covered every inch of it, and his men stood waiting on either side, ready to help carry her.

  “She’s mine,” he told them, and put her atop the flowers. He lifted the platform from its middle, and the men moved aside, following him out of the keepe and into the night.

  His sentries stood to light the path w
ith their torches, and he followed the flames to a sheltered place where the clan had gathered. Cadeyrn stood in the deep grave, and cursed under his breath with the last shovelfuls he tossed from it. Kanyth helped him out, and the War Master looked at Brennus and Althea with a rage so wretched it nearly matched his own.

  He felt his arms tremble.

  “Help me with her,” he asked his second.

  Cadeyrn took the end of the platform with shaking hands. Then dozens of others joined his, and the clan took her from him. They brought the platform over to the edge of the grave, and flowers tumbled down into the hollowed earth.

  “Wait,” Brennus said in a tight throat. He moved closer, and bent down to touch his quivering lips to hers. “I love you, my lady.”

  A flicker of dark light passed over his face, and as he drew back he saw that the clan ring she wore glowed blue. He scowled at it. Surely it had caught the moonlight, yet in all the years he’d worn it he’d never seen the like. But the more he stared at it, the brighter it glowed. He reached for it.

  “What manner of–”

  A tremendous blast shattered the night and threw him back. He landed atop Cadeyrn, and scrambled up to see every other Skaraven knocked off their feet, dozens of feet from the grave. As he helped his second to stand, he looked past him—at what could not be.

  He ran.

  Althea sat up as Brennus reached her, and linked her hands around his neck. Once he snatched her off the platform and into his arms, she touched her lips to his, murmuring his name as part of the kiss. He jerked back to look all over her. The bruise on her face, the black ice burns, all had vanished. Her hair glowed like burning copper and hung down to her waist, and in the moonlight her skin glowed as if polished with pearls.

  “My lady,” he murmured, when he could find his voice. He held her tightly, and covered the top of her head with kisses.