Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Highland Vengeance
The Celtic Blood Series, Book 3
Melanie Karsak
MelanieKarsak.com
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Highland Vengeance
The Celtic Blood Series, Book 3
Copyright © 2018 Clockpunk Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. References to historical people, organizations, events, places, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
Editing by Becky Stephens Editing
Proofreading by Rare Bird Editing
Cover art by Damonza
Trigger Warning: Gentle reader, please be aware that this novel deals with the difficult topics surrounding violence toward women
Dedication
for my readers
Table of Contents
Highland Vengeance
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
About the Author
Chapter 1
Macbeth.
Hover through the fog, the snow, the filthy air. There to meet with Macbeth.
Darkness wrapped around me as Ute took her torch and disappeared back into the castle.
“I’ll take you myself. Let me refresh the horses,” Tavis said, heading toward the stables.
I stood with Madelaine and Lulach in the dark. A swirl of light snowflakes fell all around us, dusting the ground.
“Corbie?” Madelaine whispered. I could hear the confusion in her voice.
I shook my head.
“I’ll…I’ll go get provisions ready?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes. I’m coming in a moment.”
Madelaine left me standing outside the keep. I stared up at the starry sky. Snowflakes fell on my face.
“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered into the darkness.
I closed my eyes. A tear trickled down my cheek.
A raven flew overhead and landed on the castle ledge. It turned and cawed loudly at me.
Gently moving my cloak, I looked down at Lulach who was, much to my surprise, looking back at me. His eyes twinkled in the dark of night.
“See here, child,” I whispered, motioning to the raven. “Hear now, sweet babe, hear how the raven calls.”
Lulach pursed his lips and raised his brows at me.
I smiled at him and gently stroked the little red dart on his brow, a blessing from the faerie world.
The raven cawed loudly at me.
“Lulach the loved. Lulach the light. Remember that you are a child of Kenneth MacAlpin’s line. Be strong, and drive your own destiny. You belong to no one. No man. No woman. No god. No goddess. You alone will choose what is right. Live with a free heart.”
I glared at the raven. “He is a free spirit, not beholden to you or anyone else.”
The raven flew from the ledge and landed on the ground before me, shifting into the red-robed Morrigu. Her eyes were stormy as she approached me, a fierce expression on her face.
I clutched Lulach tighter, stiffened my spine, and met her steely gaze. In my heart, I heard the wings of the raven and felt that dark presence fall over me, hooding my features. I was Gruoch, but I was more. I was Cerridwen, and with a stern expression, I met the gaze of the dark goddess advancing on me.
Then, something unexpected happened. She stopped. “Be careful what you wish for…Cerridwen.”
We stood there under the dim light of the moon glaring at one another.
The Morrigu sneered. “Get you hence before Duncan finds you,” she said, and with a swirl of cloaks, she disappeared back into the night.
I looked down at Lulach and leaned down to kiss him on his brow before safely concealing him under the warmth of my cloak once more.
I closed my eyes and listened to the beating of my heart, which thundered in time to the sound of raven’s wings. Together, the raven and the woman, we would survive whatever came next.
Chapter 2
I headed into the castle. The Morrigu was right. I needed to escape. Duncan would have a head start. Malcolm would have sent him to Aberdeen looking for me. I needed to get to Macbeth. And even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt the sting of guilt. Macbeth, or his men at least, had masterminded Gillacoemgain’s death. I could take this chance to disappear, to run away. But at what cost to Lulach? My boy would have a claim to the throne of Scotland. My son could be king. Didn’t I owe it to him to endure? Didn’t I owe it to my country? My people? But I had to choose, my rapist or my husband’s killer. Death in battle was a chance all warriors took and one Gillacoemgain had accepted. Would he begrudge my choice? Macbeth was his brother’s son. What if Macbeth was more like his uncle than his father? Banquo saw something good in him. Didn’t that count for something? In the end, I couldn’t go to Duncan, couldn’t put Lulach on his knee. Macbeth had warred against Gillacoemgain. The man I loved was dead. If Macbeth sought me, needed me, then Lulach and I ha
d a better chance with him. But the guilt… I shook my head. I would have to live with it. I would have to betray Gillacoemgain’s memory, which I held dear.
Inside the castle, I found Madelaine hurriedly packing supplies. “Send your fastest rider north. He must find Macbeth and tell him I’m coming.”
Madelaine shook her head. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. It cannot be Duncan. One day I will explain. One day, but not now.”
“Oh, my poor girl,” she whispered, searching my face for answers. Finding none, she kissed me on the forehead then turned and began shouting orders.
I went to the chamber where I’d stayed before departing for the coven. There, I quickly grabbed the rest of my supplies and belted my sword.
Thora trotted nervously around me.
“We’re on the run again,” I told her. “If you are too tired, stay with Madelaine.”
Thora wagged her tail.
“My lady,” Ute said, entering the room carrying two satchels. “I have everything ready. But, my lady. Macbeth? He killed the mormaer.”
“Yes. That is true. But I saw Duncan once, and he is quite hideous,” I replied, trying desperately not to think about Gillacoemgain, to shut out the misery that wanted to insist itself upon me.
Ute stared at me.
“Do you have everything?”
She nodded. “My lady, the babies?”
I moved my coat to reveal Lulach who was now sleeping soundly. “This is Lulach. The other child did not survive. Let’s head to the stables.”
“Oh, my lady,” Ute said, reaching out to comfort me. “I’m so sorry. The little one. The mormaer.”
“Now is not the time to mourn our losses.”
“Are you sure you can ride? You risk yourself riding hard so soon after giving birth.”
“We have no choice.”
“Stay here, lady. Send word to Prince Duncan. Let him fetch you here. If you wed him, you will be queen.”
I shook my head. “We’ll go home to Cawdor.”
“I don’t underst—”
“Ute. We must go. Now.”
Sensing I was reluctant to share my reasons with her, she finally said, “Yes, my lady.”
We went downstairs to the main hall. Madelaine had just returned from outside. “The rider left. There was news that Macbeth’s men were on the Spey.”
Kelpie waited, and a fresh horse was brought for Ute. Tavis stood ready with two heavily armed soldiers.
“These two men will join us,” he told me. “They can be trusted. I wanted extra arms along…just in case.” I could see the fear and worry on his face.
I looked at them.
“My lady,” they said in unison, nodding to me.
I inclined my head to them.
Madelaine pulled me into a gentle embrace, moving the fabric to look once more at Lulach. “Little piece of life. Bless you, wee one. Oh, Corbie, are you certain?” she whispered to me.
“I cannot be given to Duncan. Not him.”
“Then may the Goddess watch over you,” she said then turned to Tavis. “Please, take care…of all of you.”
He nodded, and I saw an anxious look pass between them.
Moving as best I could, I mounted Kelpie once more. Pain from my fresh birthing wounds shot across my body. Ute was right. It was dangerous to ride in such a condition, and a long ride could jeopardize my ability to bear again. But there was no choice. I felt yanked forward by the pull of fate. There was no resisting its tide.
We set off. It was late at night, and I was weary. Fat snowflakes fell. I was heading north once more, but not to my husband, not with both of my children. All that waited for me now was uncertainty.
I closed my eyes and imagined the sunshine, and Gillacoemgain, Lulach, Crearwy, and me all together in Cawdor. I saw us laughing, playing in the fields. I tasted wild strawberries and heard my husband’s laughter. Overhead, I envisioned the falcons calling to their master. It was all joy and light. I forced myself to remember the dream, then I rode north knowing it was nothing more than a lie.
Chapter 3
We rode through the night into morning. During the afternoon of the second day, we met the rider Madelaine had dispatched. He’d found Macbeth’s army.
“Lord Macbeth asked you to ride to Lumphanan. He’d been told you were at Aberdeen and was headed in that direction.”
“Very good,” I said, well aware of the fact that Ute was shooting me questioning glances. I ignored her. “Please take some rest then ride ahead and let him know we are on our way.”
The man nodded. “Of course. I must say, my lady, Lord Macbeth was surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m certain he was,” I replied. I knew my choices, my actions made no sense to anyone but me. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I would meet Macbeth soon enough and take the measure of the man then. For now, I just needed to survive the ride.
We rested that night at our small camp in the woods. It was cold but didn’t snow again. We sheltered in a grove of dense pine, their boughs making a tent overhead. There was a stream nearby. A strange, heavy fog rose from the water.
“Odd weather,” Tavis said as he eyed the fog suspiciously. He reached out and moved his hand through the mist as if there were something tangible to catch.
“The water is warm,” one of the soldiers said, nodding toward the stream. “Must be an underground spring.”
“That explains the smell,” the second soldier said. “Filthy air.”
The other soldier laughed. “How can the air be filthy?”
“Don’t know. Just smells…unclean.”
“Just the stink of lime and the earth. Smells no worse than your breath.”
Both men laughed.
Resting with my back against a tree, my head bobbing drowsily, I looked up.
“Sorry, Lady Gruoch,” the first soldier said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Filthy air? “No. No, I wasn’t sleeping. Dangerous to sleep in the fog anyway.”
The man nodded. “So my old granny used to tell me.”
I nodded and peered into the mist. Exhausted, my body felt disconnected, my head felt lost between this world and the other. As I stared into the fog, shapes started to take form. I saw tall pillars, a cauldron, and the silhouette of two women.
“Ah, there now, the wind picked up something sweet. You smell that? Flowers,” the soldier said.
Tavis reached out and gently jostled my leg. “Gruoch,” he whispered. I heard the warning in his voice.
I turned and looked at him. The shapes in the mist receded.
“What? I don’t smell anything,” the second soldier replied.
“I smelled it too,” Ute said sleepily. “Like lilacs.”
“Wisteria,” I whispered, looking at Tavis.
He smiled knowingly then went back to warming his hands by the fire. Apparently, Tavis knew much more about Epona’s coven and the training that went on there than he let on.
My sleep that night was fitful. Between waking every few hours to care for Lulach to the horrible ache between my legs, when the sun rose again, I was in no mood to take to horseback. Only the thought of Duncan pursing me moved me to rise. We struck camp and were back on the road again.
It was late in the afternoon when the village of Lumphanan appeared before us.
The village, comprised of no more than a dozen buildings, was surprisingly quiet. Chickens and goats meandered aimlessly while old wives tossed wash water out the front door. A boy chased a goose with a switch, and an old man fed turnip tops to pigs. The villagers eyed us curiously as we approached.
It quickly became evident that Macbeth had not yet arrived.
“The alehouse,” I told Tavis, directing Kelpie toward a building at the edge of town.
We tied the horses at the trough then headed inside.
The musty scent of rancid ale, straw, and timbers filled the air. The barkeep barely looked up, but when he did, his eyes widened. He pulled out five m
ugs and began to pour. He eyed Thora who was leaning heavily against my leg. Then he looked away. She was lucky she had such good acquaintances. Tavis spoke in low tones, and the man directed us to a secluded table in the back corner. We slid into our seats. The guards sat facing the door.
A plump woman with a bright smile, her hair covered in a kerchief, brought us all steaming bowls of mutton stew. The heavenly smell of meat and winter vegetables made my mouth water.
Lulach stirred in his sleep. I adjusted him in the sling then patted him, settling him back down.
Tavis smiled at Lulach but said nothing. All of us exhausted, we ate in silence.
After we were done, Tavis and Ute dozed, their heads bobbing.
“I need to walk,” I told the soldiers.
“We should come with you.”
“No. You rest. I won’t go far. Thora is coming. Right, Thora?” I said, gently tapping the sleeping dog with my foot. She was lying on her back, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. She opened her eyes and looked at me. “Come on, lazy,” I told her.
“At least let one of us come along. I must insist, my lady,” one of the soldiers said, rising.
He met my eyes. The expression pleaded with me not to argue.
I nodded to him.
Rewrapping my clothes tightly around me, I headed out. It was dusk. The skyline was streaked with deep red and vibrant orange colors. I looked out across the sloping hill behind the tavern. In the distance, I was surprised to see a standing stone near a raised bit of earth.
“Let’s have a look,” I said to the solder, pointing toward the stone.
“Peel of Lumphanan,” he replied, motioning to the raised ground. “Some say the rise used to support a fortress, others say it used to be an old temple.”
Holding Lulach close, I crossed the snowy ground to the stone. There was but one menhir, and beside it on the ground, a clutch of rocks. I could feel the energy of the place. It felt old, sleeping, much the same way as Ynes Verleath did. I knew that if I closed my eyes, if I focused, I could see into the otherworld, see the past. But I was too tired. I walked to the stone and touched the tall monolith. Its power vibrated under my hand.
I wanted to get lost in the energy of the otherworld. I wanted to think of Ynes Verleath. I wanted to leave all my worries behind, but I could not.
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