Highland Dragon

by Kimberly Killion

  He stared at Akira with glowing green eyes and then smiled. A childhood memory burst into her mind. Darach. This man had worn the same wicked smile just before he’d pushed the cart of boulders that had crippled Isobel down the hillside. Catriona whimpered at Akira’s side and gripped her upper arm with unyielding fingers. He reached out and stroked Catriona’s head slowly, the same as he had the cat’s.

  “Shh,” he cooed, seemingly seeking her trust. “I am not here to hurt ye.”

  One of the tabbies reared up on its back legs to rub its nose against his chin. His face smoothed, and he returned his attention to petting the three cats now mewling between them. Akira tried to summon the hate she felt for him. He’d ruined Isobel’s life, and she truly wanted to despise him, but one only had to look at him to know he’d paid his penance. She couldn’t begin to envy the life he must have lived in this loveless castle. But Darach was the last person she would have expected to help her.

  “Why have ye come here?” Akira asked, unafraid of the man he’d become.

  “I have come to help ye.”

  “To escape?” Catriona perked up.

  “Nay. There are warriors at every entrance. The laird has positioned the Lowlanders on the Donald’s borders and the Kinnon warriors guard the western crag.”

  “Lowlanders?” Akira questioned, certain she’d misunderstood.

  “Aye. Hundreds arrived by vessel a sennight ago. The laird sent out a plea for aid when he learned of your brother’s rebellion.”

  “Crivons!” She swallowed hard. “Does Laird Kinnon know I am Kendrick’s sister?”

  “Aye. And the MacLeod’s wife.”

  Akira turned to Catriona.

  “I swear to you, I did not tell the laird you are Calin’s wife. I did not,” she protested, shaking her head. “You have to believe me.”

  Akira suddenly felt as if a thousand insects crawled beneath her skin. Scrubbing the sensation from her arms, she feared a fate worse than death. Laird Kinnon would use her to get to both Kendrick and Calin. The same as he had Papa. The same horrific fate The Beast had forced on Mam and Neala. Akira’s mind became paralyzed by the thought of that monster’s hands on her. She cupped her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

  Several heavy breaths later, she felt Darach’s warm hand on hers. Opening her wet eyes to him, Akira wanted to weep. Wanted to cry out for help.

  “I will help ye,” Darach said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “Why?”

  “Mayhap to right a wrong.”

  To right a wrong? Did he mean Isobel? Could she trust him? Did she really have a choice?

  “I wish for freedom from these haunted walls,” Darach supplied. “I wish to ride a stallion beneath the sun and know the pride of my brethren.”

  Catriona sat up tall and clasped Akira’s hand, giving her strength. If she intended to survive and give birth to her child, she needed fortitude. And her damnable pride wouldn’t dissuade her from accepting their gift. “Tell me what I must do.”

  Darach smiled and nodded. “Ye must prevent Laird Kinnon from realizing ye are of nay value to him. Ye must convince the laird ye are a witch.”

  “I cannae! ’Tis blasphemy. I am nay witch. Ye place much trust in abilities I dinnae have nor wish to portray falsely.”

  Akira had spent her entire life denying the accusations. God would punish her for such a sin.

  “’Tis not blasphemy if the pagan words arenae spoken. God would see the right of it. Ye are saving his people. ’Tis a matter of war, of survival. I will be your eyes, and ye will be Laird Kinnon’s.”

  “And I can be your voice,” Catriona said in a deep rich timber that sounded much like a man. “I have been able to change my voice since I was a child. I used my skill a time or two to trick my father. I’m verra good at it, lass. Think ye I sound a wee bit like your kinsmen?” The last of her words came out with a thick Scottish burr, and Akira believed they might actually be able to trick the old laird. But they needed time to devise such a plan.

  “I can tell ye what to say, and the laird will believe it all because ye will use his fear against him,” Darach said.

  “Fear?” Akira asked trying to fathom what she could possibly do to scare a man of his demented mind. “What does he fear?” “Her…ye. I saw it in his eyes when he entered the dungeon.”

  “I dinnae understand.”

  “Can ye not feel it? The heat?” He reached out and wiped a rivulet from her temple. A tabby’s pink tongue licked the pearl of sweat in one swipe.

  “Aye.” She wiped sweaty palms down her kirtle. “I fear God has abandoned me and placed me in the fires of Hell.”

  “Nay. ’Tis not Hell in the Highlands.” He chuckled and blinked his green eyes slowly in time with the cat’s. “If God wanted to punish a mon in the Highlands, he would set him down in the middle of a frozen loch. The warmth ye feel is the presence of good, nay evil. Dinnae fear it, for ’tis her. I have seen her, and ye are her likeness. I followed her into the shadows when I was just a boy. She weeps in the nursery for the deaths of her daughters. She, and she alone, reaps a fear in Laird Kinnon he would never admit to. And ye must use that fear to gain an advantage.”

  Darach had obviously lost his wit over the years, which was understandable, but he spoke in riddles and Akira’s mind struggled to make sense of his words. “Who is she?”

  “Laird Kinnon’s wife.”

  How could that be? The laird’s wife died years ago in childbearing. The clan never spoke of her, and Akira knew nothing more about her other than the cause of her death. Akira felt her entire face contort in confusion, then her senses came alive. Her cheeks burned, her pulse beat like a thousand drums in her ears, and a hum traveled through her body in a flash. Suddenly, one of the cats arched, its fur ruffled. Another hissed a chilling sound of warning. Feline growls escalated until the cats scattered.

  Darach stood and stared into the darkness, searching. “He is coming. Be brave, lass. Make demands of him. If he strikes ye, raise your chin to him. He feeds on fear. Dinnae let him see yours. I will find ye.”

  Terrified by his words, Akira summoned every morsel of strength within her. She caressed her stomach and asked God to protect her and her child.

  “Please, ye cannae leave us here,” Catriona pleaded and reached out to him, but Darach vanished into the pitch just as the wooden door crashed against the rock wall.

  Laird Kinnon reared his ugly head beneath the archway, half his face cast in shadows. With his presence came an icy blast of cold that filled the hollows of the cavern, and chilled Akira straight to her core.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The blood in Calin’s veins had flowed hot and fervent during the time it took him to reach Kinnon soil. He’d lost at least three hours because those bastards burned the bridge. But he was here now, standing knee-deep in seawater at the threshold of the cavern entrance, and he feared his limbs might combust from anticipation. The path ahead of him was as dark and heinous as Laird Kinnon’s own soul, and the cold hilt of his broadsword offered him little comfort. His wife and unborn child were somewhere within The Beast’s lair, and not even the deep-seated foreboding slithering in his gut could prevent him from finding her.

  Calin prayed Laird Kinnon kept Akira alive. He could only hope the bastard wanted her for some belief in her powers, and not because she was married to the man about to wage war against him. The thought that Laird Kinnon might unknowingly rape his own daughter was a possibility he couldn’t ignore. He pressed both palms against his eyes, fighting off the image that burrowed into his mind like a thousand rodents.

  His entire future rested in the hands of the man who murdered his father.

  Peering over his shoulder, Calin cooled with pride. Twelve of his warriors merged with twelve more of the Kinnon rebels. Kendrick stood at his side, awaiting his command. Calin no longer fought for an alliance. Kendrick provided him with that. This battle was for the woman he loved.

  Inhaling deeply, Calin gave a
quick nod to Kendrick and led his warriors into the dungeon of Brycen Castle. A chain of linked men followed him as he groped his way over the jagged slick walls into pitch-blackness. The air was wet, and the vapors of death grew stronger the further they slinked into the grotto.

  Soon, a low-burning pitch torch came into vision. Only two sentries guarded the prisoners. Calin held up his fingers and pointed to two stealthy warriors. The sentries hit the floor only seconds later, after which, twenty more members of the rebellion were freed from their chains.

  “Find her.” Calin gave the order and the search for Akira ensued.

  In hushed tones, Calin conversed with Kendrick. “I dinnae like this.”

  “Too easy. Too quiet,” Kendrick agreed.

  “We’ve met little resistance. I cannae help but feel like I’m walking into a trap.”

  Kendrick shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhap God is on our side.”

  “God does not follow men into war. ’Tis the devil’s occupation.”

  A prisoner, hollow-eyed and haggard with his hands still bound by shackles, hobbled to Calin. “Your men search for just one lass, but there were two. Kinnon’s mercenaries escorted both lassies out o’ the dungeon a couple hours ago. Just a short time later, Kinnon’s men left their post on the western crag and swarmed through here like a band o’ demons, leaving only the two sentries behind.”

  The slick blood drippings beneath the wooden table in the torture chamber hypnotized Calin while the man conveyed the information. Calin closed his eyes. “Were they weel? The women?”

  “I dinnae see them, but I heard one lass offering comfort to the other. The one that puckered my arse when the guards tortured her. A real screamer that one.”

  Calin’s arm went into spasm. A guttural scream rose in his throat, but held tight between his lips. He would tear the bastards’ limbs from their bodies for touching his wife.

  “I cannae be certain, but I believe another came. Mayhap a gillie,” the man continued while Jaime freed him of his shackles. “The voice was low and soft-spoken. Whoever he was, he came and went freely just before the laird took the women away.”Kendrick clasped Calin’s forearm. “Akira’s alive. ’Tis all that matters right now.”

  May Saint Margaret protect ye, my sweet Akira, and keep ye and our child safe. Calin checked his emotions, and then ordered two men to lead the weaker prisoners out of the cavern. The others awaited his order. He had to find her, but walking into the belly of this fortress would be certain death to him and his men.

  “I will take ye to them.” The words spoken behind him were followed by the hissing sound of unsheathed swords. Calin whirled around to find a small man standing at attention behind the threat of three swords. His hands were poised in front of him, and his chin rose, giving the warriors further access to his throat.

  “Put down your weapons. He is unarmed,” Calin ordered.

  Kendrick circled the man, his narrowed eyes studied him. Pushing back the hood hiding his face, Kendrick didn’t so much as wince at the man’s scarred appearance. “Who are ye?”

  “Who I am is of nay import.” He returned the hood over his head and nodded at Calin. “Follow me if ye wish to see the women.” He turned and blended into the darkness.

  Every warrior instinct inside Calin warned him not to follow this mysterious man alone. He would die acting reckless, making fool-hearted decisions.

  So be it.

  Calin quickly located the man’s heels and followed him through a maze of hidden walls leading to the council chamber. The memory of the night he traveled the same path invaded his mind. The night The Beast stole his father from him. The night his soul found its mate. A cowardice child then, hiding in fear. But that boy no longer existed. A man had taken his place. A shadow who skulked through musky walls armed with a broadsword in one hand, a sgian dubh in the other, and a garrison of over five hundred warriors awaiting his signal.

  His footsteps were muted when they rounded the bend. Then he heard her voice. Muffled by the wall, but her words sounded like a sweet lullaby in his ears. Akira spoke a mixture of languages garbled into words he didn’t comprehend. Then came silence. Just as he pressed forward, another voice came to his ears. A voice he recognized as well—Catriona. A manifold of questions overwhelmed him, but he gave them no heed and squeezed through the hollow wall. His guide stopped in front of him and pointed to a small slit in the wall which gave Calin a bird’s-eye picture of the chamber. His gaze fell upon his wife and his heart pounded wanting to go to her, to touch her and take her away from this evil place. She stood with her arms splayed out beside her, palm ups as if in prayer. Though pale, not a mar touched her beautiful skin. He followed her line of sight to Catriona, on her knees, wearing a tattered blood-stained chemise. There was no mistaking who’d been tortured. Accompanied by ten warriors, Laird Kinnon stood nearby wearing the same contemptuous scowl he’d worn the night he’d murdered Da. Sweat spilled over Calin’s forehead.

  His feet itched to run into the chamber and battle all of them, but the warrior and leader inside him kept his body in check. He would not survive such a foolish attempt and then Akira’s fate would be sealed. He had to be patient. Akira mumbled—a strange humming noise came from deep within her throat. What was she doing with her arms? Her head rolled atop her shoulders and her lids fell shut. Then with a jerk, her body stiffened, and her eyes flew open. The hair lifted on Calin’s arms, and his body gave a quick shudder.

  “Hear me, Guardian of the Night. I offer ye an unholy host as a sacrifice, if ye grant me your visions,” Akira chanted in Gaelic, pausing to inhale deeply, as if her words stole her life source. “Hear me, Guardian of the Night, so I might free m’laird from the plight of the savages who hunt him. Show me the way of the warriors. Speak now through the unholy host.” The last of her words came out as a bellow. With her arms raised high above her head and shaking violently, Akira chanted out the open window in the direction of the black sea. The incantation changed to the language only Akira understood, but at that precise moment her arms jolted and Catriona’s chest and head snapped up as if a serpent just crawled through her body. Calin was riveted.

  Catriona’s eyes were glazed over and wide when she responded. “They come by vessel…up the mouth of the firth…

  hundreds. The MacLeod leads the first boat…there is an order.”

  Hell and damnation! Calin’s pulse became erratic. He crossed himself. Akira is a witch? Paralyzed, he could only watch, unable to tear his eyes away from the exhibition before him.

  Akira’s body convulsed. Her lips moved as if in conversation, but no words emerged. Laird Kinnon appeared transfixed on the scene as well. The warriors aligning the wall stood at loyal attention, but even they were wide eyed.

  “Kendrick, ye take the members o’ the rebellion and scale the cliff.” Catriona’s voice changed tones. A perfect mimic of Calin’s deep Highland burr. “The MacLeods will travel on foot. With the saints to guide us, we will meet inside the stable at the blackest hour afore dawn.”

  Akira pressed a hand to her breast and breathed heavily through her mouth, then turned to Laird Kinnon. “I’ll need the blood of six swine, a garland of woodbine, the urine of a barren woman, and the bones of a rotting corpse. All this must be boiled in a cauldron for the remainder of eventide and given to the host just afore the moon crosses the sea at dawn. My host’s body will need fed and rested before she is able to accept the vision from my Guardian. At dawn ye will see the slaughter of your enemy. The MacLeod is a fool to attack on Hallow E’en. The barriers are thin and the souls of the dead can only strengthen the Guardian from dawn to dusk on the morrow.”

  “Ye’ve done weel, my pet.” Laird Kinnon grinned and brushed Akira’s hair with the palm of his hand. He moved past her shoulder to give orders to his warriors.

  Calin studied the scene, his heart still pounding in his ears. Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Akira’s lips lift ever so slightly then she winked at Catriona. Though Catriona still appeared
to be under some sort of trance, she returned the gesture just before she wailed out and collapsed onto the stone floor.

  Unable to speak for fear he’d give away his presence, Calin silently ordered his guide to return to the dungeon. Once inside the safety of the grotto, Calin turned to Kendrick, a smile as broad as the day of his wedding crossed his face. “My lady wife is a witch.”“’Tis blasphemy!” Kendrick scolded in a harsh whisper and drew his sgian dubh. “Akira is not a witch, and ye weel know it.”

  “I know it. Ye know it, but The Beast is in the palm of her wicked lil’ hand.”

  Kendrick’s scowl deepened in confusion. A dozen warriors drew a circle around them while the small mysterious man weaved his way to stand between Calin and Kendrick. “She is safe for now, but ye must prepare your warriors.”

  “I demand to know who are ye?” Kendrick asked with the tip on his sgian dubh pointed at the man’s nose.

  “The laird’s son.”

  “Darach?” Kendrick lowered his blade at the same time the collected warriors unsheathed theirs. Calin held up his hand, ordering both his men and Kendrick’s to withdraw their weapons. This man-boy posed no threat to them. A summer breeze would knock him down, and he’d already proven his desire to aid them. He certainly didn’t look to be the demon Akira had painted him to be.

  “Why would ye help us?” Kendrick asked and exchanged a leery glance with Calin. “Do ye not know we’ve come to destroy Laird Kinnon and steal the verra title he has secured for ye?”

  “The chieftainship of Clan Kinnon has never been mine to want. Laird Kinnon has taken every opportunity to tell me I am but a pawn. I am not of his blood, but the son of a whore he murdered after my birth.”