Tormod (Immortal Highlander Book 4): A Scottish Time Travel Romance

by Hazel Hunter

  “You cannae tell how deep it goes with a shell. You must drop a stone tied to a rope, and mark the top when it reaches bottom.”

  Before he finished speaking Gavin had shoved the torch into Thora’s hands and stepped in front of her as he brandished a dirk. “You’re not wanted. Get out of here.”

  Saying the words that he never imagined he would again made him smile. “Fair evening, Thora.”

  Tormod’s sister touched Gavin’s arm, pushing at it until he lowered the blade. She tilted her head as she walked to the very edge of the sea well.

  “No,” she whispered as she studied him like she might a leprous brigand. “You cannae trick me. My brother died saving me from the Pritani. You arenae Tormod.”

  “That day I told you to go, and no’ to look back at me,” he said gently. “You were a good lass and did exactly that as you ran away. I saw you reach the cove, and then I went in the other direction to lead them off. They didn’t kill me, Sister. They–”

  “No,” Thora shrieked. “Tormod lives with the gods. They rewarded him for his sacrifice. Freyja promised they would. She swore it.”

  “Mayhap they will someday.” He started walking around the well toward her. “Thora, I was made a slave by the Pritani. I served them for ten years before the Romans came and I was freed.” He glanced down. “I never thought I would miss you putting frogs in my boots, but I did.”

  She gasped and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. But in the next instant she blurred around the edge of the sea well and flung herself at him. He caught her and hugged her so fiercely that he thought they might crush each other. All the centuries of searching and being alone had ended. As Thora sobbed against his chest, his throat tightened lest he do the same.

  For his part Gavin merely stood and watched them both, his expression guarded.

  He isnae enthralled, Tormod thought as Thora finally quieted.

  “I cannae cry in this body,” she whispered. “Undead cannae make tears. If I could, Brother, I would fill an ocean with them.”

  “We neednae weep,” he said quietly and felt the last crack in his heart mend. “’Tis a happiness that we are together again, Sister.”

  “Did the gods send you back to me?” She stepped back to look up at him. “Was it Freyja? Has she forgiven me?”

  Tormod shook his head. “Why did you offer yourself to the goddess?”

  “I ken if I won her favor that she would bestow wonders on me,” Thora said, smiling a little. “She plucked the eye from her face and made it a love gift. She bade me to wear it, like a bauble, but I knew what to do with it.” She shrugged. “It sank all of the Pritani ships that tried to stop us.” She inspected him. “You are no’ like the Romans, I can see that. How are you come here to me?”

  The time for the reckoning had arrived.

  “I was made immortal, Thora,” Tormod told her. “’Twas my reward for protecting the magic folk from the Romans. For that I was killed, and then brought back to live forever. So were the Pritani who fought with me.”

  The pleasure went out of Thora’s face, snuffed out as quickly as a pinched candle. “What did you say?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “MY MASTERS DIDNAE abuse me as a slave,” Tormod said. “In time I began to look upon them more as brothers.”

  “No. I dinnae believe you.” She stepped back from him.

  “Then came the Romans, like a plague spreading across Caledonia. They hunted the druids, who couldnae defend themselves.” He told her of their last stand on Skye, and how they had been slaughtered and thrown into the loch. “When the magic folk learned of our sacrifice, they cast our deaths onto the Romans. The clan awoke as immortals who need never again die.”

  “The clan,” she ground out past a clenched jaw. Her eyes glittered as she bared her teeth. “You joined the Pritani’s tribe. The Pritani who put to the flame our people, our village, our parents. The Pritani who stole everything I loved from me. How could you kiss the arses of those murderers?”

  Now she sounded like the petulant little girl who had thrown tantrums whenever anyone denied her wants. “’Twas us who first burned their village while they were away burying their chieftain. They faced the starvation and cold of the winter. Of course they were angry. Had they done so to us, striking first, would we no’ have retaliated?”

  “You talk like a traitor,” she said and spat at his feet.

  “Think what you will of me,” Tormod said. “The clan and I protect mortal kind now. I ken why you came here, Thora. You cannae use Freyja’s Eye again. You know what will happen if you do.”

  “Give me your blade, Gavin,” she said, holding out her hand. When the big man came to her he placed it on her palm. She took it and jerked him down to his knees. Seizing a handful of his dark hair, Thora hauled Gavin’s head back and put the dirk to his throat.

  Jema’s brother looked thunderstruck. “Thora?”

  “Shut up,” she said to him before addressing Tormod, who drew his axe. “You are no brother of mine, Tormod Liefson. Nor shall you stop me from seeking justice for our tribe. You say you protect mortal kind now?” She pressed in the blade enough to make Gavin bleed. “Go from this place now, or I will slit his throat and bathe in his blood.”

  Jema’s chest stopped burning as soon as she reached the sea well. There she crouched, unseen by anyone, and stared at her brother.

  Oh my god, Gee.

  Gavin’s wasted body had vanished, replaced by the heavy, muscular frame he’d had during his military days. Seeing him so vital and alive made Jema take in a shuddering breath as tears sprang into her eyes. Though Tormod had said he would be healed, it was nothing short of a miracle.

  But when Thora pressed the blade to Gavin’s throat, Jema had to clamp a hand over her own mouth to keep from screaming. She watched Tormod drop his axe, and saw the bleak worry in his expression as he tried persuading Thora to release her brother.

  It is time now, beloved of Tormod, the spirit said inside her mind. Look down into the well. There you shall see the Eye.

  Jema blinked away her tears and leaned over to spot a tiny sparkle in the depths of the well. That has to be a hundred feet down.

  Yes.

  She wanted to scream with frustration. I have no equipment, and I’m not an expert swimmer. Do you want me to drown?

  We want you to defy chaos and create that which will be forever. The voice grew chilly. Bring the Eye to Tormod and your men shall be saved.

  That was the only reason she had come. She looked down into the water again. It was deep but it had to be done. She moved to the edge.

  Diving in would create a splash that would give away her presence. Instead Jema swung her legs over the side of the well, and slipped into the freezing water. When it closed over her head she swam for the bottom as fast as she could.

  Light from the torch filtered down and met the sparkling glow that began to rise up around her. Tiny coral and shellfish lined the sides of the well, providing homes for even tinier fish. The lower she went, the more the inhabitants seem to pick up the tangerine light from beneath, until it looked as if the sides of the well were on fire.

  Freyja’s Eye.

  Jema felt the pressure in her ears, head and chest growing painful. The soul-numbing temperature of the water also felt as if it were seeping into her bones. Finally she was able to touch the silty bottom. From that soft layer she uncovered a fist-sized jewel carved to look like a drowsy eye. The moment she touched it the diamond opened and stared at her like a living thing. Yet when she tried to take it from the well bottom it wouldn’t budge.

  No, no. Sweeping away more of the silt, she saw that the diamond lay partially embedded in what appeared to be melted rock. I can’t excavate it. I have no tools, and I’m running out of time.

  You were brought back for this, Jema McShane. Use your knowledge and skills.

  Her lungs ached, and the need to breathe was becoming overwhelming. Jema searched around the Eye frantically until she found a large
rock. Helped by the buoyancy of the water, she lifted it with both hands. With all her might, she swung it at the melted rock. A dull thunk resounded in her ears. Over and over she brought her hammerstone down, ringing the diamond with pits and cracks in its surrounding matrix.

  But the pain in her lungs was excruciating. Another second and she’d have to ascend for air. But as she dropped her makeshift tool, she saw the stone and diamond separate from the floor. She snatched it in one hand, turned, and made for the surface.

  Please, just let me last a little longer.

  She was coming up too fast and not stopping to allow her body to adjust to the change in pressure. If she didn’t pass out and drown, an air embolism would cause her to stroke out or have a heart attack.

  All of this wouldn’t have happened if I was simply going to die and sink to the bottom with this damned rock. Jema had never prayed in anger, but now seemed the time to start. Goddess, this was your mission. Damn it, help me finish it.

  A single shaft of blazing gold light shot upward from the diamond. But quickly it refracted into hundreds of others. The beams turned the well into a cauldron of seething molten power. A tremendous force smashed into Jema, driving her upward but also to the side. As her head and back collided with the wall of the well, the last of her air burst from her mouth. Reflexively she inhaled and filled her chest with sea water.

  She wrapped her hands around the Eye as she began to sink. Warmth was spreading from the back of her head and the water was clouding with red. She had no strength to swim or kick or even keep her eyes open, but she would keep the diamond safe.

  That had to count for something.

  Dimly she heard a muffled sound like a heavy splash, and then silence filled her ears. She felt the effervescence of the water being displaced in front of her, and her skin turned to ice. She managed to open her eyes to slits and saw her Viking holding her as he swam back up to the surface. But just as they came out into the air she went blind. With the last of her strength, she pushed the diamond into his grip, her hands covering his as all her senses failed.

  She tasted the salt of tears on her lips. His, hers, or was it just the sea? Did it matter?

  How lovely it had been, finding this man, and learning to love him. Her heart, which gave its last slow beat, filled with joy. He would live, and so would her brother, and her part in that was done.

  Diana paced back and forth on the deck of the fisher they had taken from the dock. “How can you people have not invented the outboard motor?”

  “Lights out,” the laird called, and the clan extinguished the deck lanterns.

  The silhouette of two black ships showed against the night sky, each far enough away from the skerry to prevent running aground. On the island itself a flickering torch provided the only light, which showed two, no, three figures standing on top of a mound.

  Raen caught Diana’s arm as she rushed toward the side.

  “What are we waiting for?” she demanded.

  Evander pointed to the side of one of the black ships, where dozens of Romans were dropping into the sea.

  “They won’t see us in our water-traveling forms,” she told him.

  “Not us,” Raen told her. “You must stay here.”

  “They’ll use Jema to work him,” she said. “He loves her. If I don’t talk to him, he’ll give Thora the Eye to save her.”

  “No, he willnae,” Lachlan said, joining them. “Tormod can be just as merciless as his sister.”

  “He’ll listen to me,” Diana insisted.

  “Diana,” Evander said. “I ken that you wish to save the Viking. But ’tis no’ your fight now. We must trust that he ’twill do what is necessary, the same as us.”

  Lachlan eyed the skerry and nodded to Evander. “’Tis time.”

  “You’ve no gun,” Raen told her as the other members of the warband began slipping over the side. “And there’s no place to run if you attract the undead with your blood.” He took her by the arms. “I’ll see to your Viking, but I must ken that you are safe.”

  Reluctantly Diana nodded and placed a hand over his heart. “Just make sure you come back.”

  Tormod held Jema as he climbed out of the well, the huge golden diamond caught between their bodies. He carried her to the nearest level spot, and gently lowered her to the ground. He could feel the terrible injury to the back of her head. But looking at her pale, peaceful face he knew that she had drowned. His trembling hand caressed her cheek as a deep, numbing shock settled in his bones.

  “My sweet lass,” he whispered, as his voice strained and then broke. Gently he moved a lock of hair from her cold forehead. “What have you done?”

  Water from his own damp hair dripped into her face, which he could hardly see now from the water in his eyes.

  “The Eye,” Thora called to him from the other side of the sea well. “Did she find it?”

  “Jema?” Gavin said. “Jema?” Tormod finally raised his gaze to look at Jema’s brother across the well. Gavin’s face was frozen in a paroxysm of horror. “No.”

  But before Tormod could reply, the sound of hobnail boots made both Thora and Gavin turn about. Dozens of undead were walking out of the sea onto the rocky shore. Tormod seized the diamond and grabbed his axe. But there weren’t dozens of undead, there were hundreds.

  A centurion walked to the front of his men and looked at Thora with unconcealed hatred. “Fenella Ivar, you no longer serve the Ninth Legion. You have been implicated in the murder of your fellow soldiers by a survivor of your attack. You have disgraced your position and betrayed the trust placed in you by Tribune Quintus Seneca. Surrender yourself to us now or die here.”

  “There are too many,” Gavin said to her and put a hand on her arm. “Even with your speed. We must run.”

  She yanked her arm away from him, still facing the centurion. “Thora the Merciless doesnae run.”

  The centurion raised his sword and pointed at her but when he opened his mouth to give an order, he quickly shut it. All of the Romans backed up a pace.

  Thora threw her head back and barked a short laugh. “Do you see what cowards they are?” she said, her voice dripping with disgust.

  But Gavin wasn’t listening to her. Instead he turned to look past Tormod, who then followed his gaze.

  Though Tormod had to keep his jaw from falling open, his chest threatened to burst with pride. His clan had arrived.

  As Lachlan approached, he gazed down at the still form of Jema and his mouth twisted in a cruel grimace. As he passed, his eyes met Tormod’s and the laird gave him a stiff nod, which Tormod returned.

  Next was Raen. “Did you find it?”

  In response, Tormod finally held up the diamond. To say it was beautiful was to insult the gem. It was like sunlight itself captured in purest crystal. The hands that had carved it to resemble an eye had belonged to a master of the craft. Not a single imperfection marred the glittering jewel. Nothing he had seen or would ever see, he suspected, would ever match its stunning flawlessness.

  “Good lad,” the big man said. “Keep it safe while we separate these worthless beasts from their fanged heads.”

  As Lachlan rounded the well, he broke into a trot and drew both his swords. “Clan McDonnel,” he bellowed. “Heid doon, arse up!”

  Raen, Evander, and the rest of the warband followed. They waded into the enemy in a clashing, slashing maelstrom of flying steel. But as the ash of the undead began to litter the soil, one person stood apart. Tormod watched as Thora’s hungry eyes fixed on the gem in his hand. In a blur she was around the sea well and wrenching Freyja’s Eye from his grasp.

  But Tormod was not going to give up so easily. His Jema had died for the damn thing’s sake. He locked his large hands on it as she tugged with all her might.

  “No, Thora,” he said through clenched teeth. Her undead body was strong. “Leave it be.”

  “You fool,” she shrieked. “It is the instrument of our victory.”

  “’Tis a weapon of the Aesir an
d no’ to be trusted. They let Jema die for it, and who knows their reasons.”

  “Coward,” she grunted, tugging so hard that she spun him around her. “I ken its power.” Her eyes locked on his. “I sent my own fleet to the bottom with it.”

  “What?” he said, almost losing his grip.

  “I slaughtered them all!” she screamed. “Viking and Pritani alike. I’d have killed as many of our own people as needed to see every Pritani die.”

  Tormod couldn’t believe it but then he remembered the words of Freyja.

  Yet when I gave her my most powerful and precious jewel, she used it to betray me.

  “Aye,” Thora confirmed. “’Twas I who destroyed both sides. The same as I’ll do now.”

  As she uttered the last, she flung her head forward, smashing the top of it into his face. Though he reeled from the blow, Tormod didn’t let go. Not until she pushed off of him with a savage kick to his stomach did his fingers finally come loose. They flew apart, both landing on their backs.

  Tormod rolled to keep from being trampled. The fighting had come close. Though the clan battled ferociously, the steady press of Roman bodies was forcing them back. Even Gavin had picked up a sword and was killing the undead as fast as they came at him.

  Thora scrambled to her feet and thrust the jewel above her head. “Freyja, your daughter calls on you!”

  Frantically Tormod looked about him for a weapon. His axe lay on the ground where he’d dropped it next to Jema. As warriors clashed around him, he stooped and snatched it up. But as he rose, a flurry of ash flew into his face. When it cleared, Raen stood in front of him, sword still stabbing the space where a Roman had just been. The big man glanced down at the axe.

  “Do what you must, lad, and quickly,” he breathed before he parried a blow and turned to a new assailant.

  Tormod gripped the handle with both his hands and sighted along its edge. Thora’s eyes had rolled back in her head and the great diamond was growing brighter. Though he couldn’t hear what she said, he knew that her vengeance had driven her mad. He could not let his clan be slaughtered, not even for his sister—the one he had saved all those centuries ago.