Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03]

by The Sword Maiden

  Lachlann laughed. "True."

  She stripped off her gown and chemise, casting them down beside the clean clothing, linen sheets, and soap she had fetched from the house. Lachlann watched her steadily, his gaze piercing blue even across the room. She stepped into the water and sank down with a sigh, bending her knees to sit curled inside, leaning her shoulders back and closing her eyes, grateful for watery comfort after hours of fierce heat, smoke, and hard work.

  He came toward her, sliding to his knees beside the tub. Cupping his hand in the water, scooping up a palmful of blush-colored petals, he dribbled them where her breasts crested the water. "I wish we could both fit in there, my friend," he murmured, leaning toward her.

  "So do I, my friend," she said, and slid her hand along his broad neck, pulling him closer, savoring his slow, delicious kiss. His fingers, sensually shaped and darkened from charcoal and iron, traced over her pale breasts. A shiver went through her as his hand sank into the warm water. "Perhaps we could help each other bathe," she said.

  "Ah, now, we could do that," he said.

  * * *

  "Now the blade needs heat treating," Lachlann told Eva, indicating the long bed of charcoal that he had formed with a crusted exterior and a red-hot interior. Slowly he slid the long blade into the fiery cavern. "When the steel takes on a red heat, then we quench it in the warm brine."

  Eva stood beside him at the forge and watched as the blade began to glow red-gold. He handed her the tongs. "Hold it in the fire," he said, as she took the weight of the tool in her gloved hand. "There is something I must do."

  He drew out the short dagger sheathed in his belt and quickly made a thin cut across his forearm. Eva gasped, wincing as she saw that. Taking the tongs to draw the red-hot blade out of the fire, he let a few drops of blood fall upon the searing steel, where it sizzled, then vanished.

  "Now I am part of this blade, and it is part of me," he murmured, half to himself. Then he spun around and plunged the blade into the quenching tub. The viscous brine bubbled, steamed, then calmed, while the sword glowed like a lantern under the water.

  "The blood," Eva said, looking up at him. "Why did you do that?"

  He smiled a little, wiping his arm with a cloth. The cut was long and thin as a hair, barely beading. "An old smithing tradition," he said. "One of the secrets to producing a strong, invincible blade. They say that ages ago, new-made swords were sometimes quenched in the blood of virgins." He lifted a brow. "So you are safe." She made a little face at him.

  "Is the blood part of making a faery blade?" she asked.

  He frowned slightly and did not answer.

  "They say MacKerrons can do that," she ventured, trying to catch his glance. "Can you? Would you tell me if you could?"

  "There is work to be done," he reminded her as he pulled the sword from the quench and turned it, eyeing it critically. "A good blade," he said, "but the water, though necessary, makes it brittle. It needs tempering—a softening of its hard nature, until it is both strong and flexible, a merging of opposites—heat and cold, fire and water, hard and soft. Male and female," he added quietly, turning the blade thoughtfully.

  He raked the charcoal, adding kindling and a few leaves while Eva fed air from the bellows. When the flames flickered gold and blue, he swung the blade into the fire. "Now," he said, reaching out a hand to pull her close, "be my eyes, love."

  She pressed next to him, watching. He held the blade as the flames licked the steel. The metal began to glow.

  "It will turn from yellow into brown," he said, "then purple into blue. Watch carefully. A sword pulled out at the yellow point will be too hard, at purple and blue it will be too soft. Just when it changes from brown to purple, that is when it must come out. And I cannot trust my own vision to tell me exactly when that is."

  She nodded, watching the steel sway over the flames as a rainbow of color bloomed on its shining surface. Bright golden yellow flowed into the steel and darkened into true brown. Then she saw a tiny burst of purple—

  "Now," she said, and Lachlann pulled the sword out and plunged it into the brine, where it sizzled. The glow subsided into a deep shine.

  "Is it done?" she asked.

  "Not yet," he answered. "There is tempering by fire yet—what the devil is that?"

  Startled by a sudden, quiet rapping on the door and the distant barking of the two dogs shut in the house, Eva started forward, but Lachlann drew her behind him and advanced. Grasping the hilt of the dagger in his belt, he pulled the door open cautiously, then stood back. Simon stepped inside quickly, followed by Margaret's five brothers and Iain Og.

  "Simon, what is it?" Eva asked as she hurried forward. Beyond the closing door, she glimpsed a black sky laced with mist in the aftermath of the rain, and she heard the clear barking of the dogs, and the fainter thunder of horses' hooves. "What is going on? Are the king's men after you? Why did you come here?"

  "They may well be after us for this night's work," he said. "Colin Campbell is after us now. He is back from Perth—we just went past Strathlan."

  "Is Colin out there?" Eva asked, as Lachlann shut the door.

  "He is coming here, though we did not think he would be after us so soon," Simon said.

  "So soon? What have you done?" Lachlann demanded.

  "Listen, now," Simon said. "We came here to tell you of our decision, and then we must be off. We thought to stay and celebrate, but there is no time for that now."

  "Tell us what is going on," Eva said. Lachlann, ever practical and inclined to few words, began to shepherd the visitors toward the back door of the smithy, and Eva followed.

  Simon glanced at his kinsmen. "We are in agreement that Clan Arthur will never accept exile. I will take the responsibility of speaking for Donal. Our chief would never approve of the bargain that Colin made for us."

  She touched his arm. "But, Simon, that means—"

  "It means you will refuse Colin, and we will take a stand for our rights."

  "We will petition the king ourselves," Fergus said, "and seek an audience and a fair hearing at the king's own court."

  "I will go with you when you ride to court," Lachlann said, placing a hand on Simon's shoulder. As her brother nodded his gratitude, Eva felt tears sting her eyes. Love and fear, relief and apprehension washed through her all at once.

  "Eva, we want that marriage annulled," Simon said, "and no more arguments from you. We have another husband in mind for you." He glanced at Lachlann. Nearby, her kinsmen watched, the twins nodding somberly, the others smiling.

  She felt herself tearing up again. "You take a great chance on my behalf."

  "As you did for us," Simon said. "It is only fair."

  Micheil turned from peering through the window shutters. "They are coining over the meadow."

  "Who? What happened?" Eva asked hastily.

  "Colin is upset," Andra said. "We, ah, we took his horses."

  "You what!" Eva and Lachlann exclaimed together.

  "We took six horses from the grazing meadow beside Strathlan, and brought them here," he explained. "We thought to delay Colin from coming here while he found himself a mount. But he had horses and men inside the castle bailey. We did not know he was back from Perth then."

  "Dear God, why did you do that?" Eva asked.

  "It is All Hallow's night," Fergus said. "Andra and Micheil and I thought it would be a good prank and would keep Colin at home for a few days."

  "All Hallow's so soon!" Eva said. "I had forgotten."

  "And on All Hallow's Eve," Fergus said, "the faeries do ride. We thought a few faeries ought to ride over to Strathlan."

  Lachlann muttered something about fools, shaking his head.

  "By the time the rest of us caught up to these three, it was done," Simon said. "So we put the horses in your stable."

  "We only borrowed them," Andra said. "When Colin asks, just tell him the horses wandered over here."

  "And put themselves in the stalls?" Eva asked, incredulous.

 
; "On All Saints' Eve, anything can happen," Micheil said, and grinned. Eva shook her head, glancing at Lachlann.

  "After what has happened lately, that was foolhardy, my friends," Lachlann said grimly. "Out with you now. There is a path behind the smithy that leads down to the lochside." He opened the narrow back entrance. Behind the smithy, the loch spread, shining and black, in the misty darkness.

  "We hoped we would have time to celebrate," Fergus said.

  "What, All Hallow's? You have done that, it seems," Eva replied sourly.

  "Not that, something else very important," Simon said. "We came to ask the blacksmith if he would—"

  "Ask him later, whatever it is," Eva said. "You have no time, now that you have crossed Colin. Out with you."

  "We only meant to give Green Colin a good startle," Andra said.

  "You did that," Lachlann drawled. "And if you want to live to celebrate anything at all, you had best be gone from here." He ushered them, one by one, through the door.

  Iain Og turned to Eva. "If Green Colin gives you trouble over the refusal, just take that sword of yours and show him that your pledge is canceled." He winked at her.

  "Go!" Lachlann hissed, and Iain lumbered past him into the darkness after the others.

  "We will be nearby if you should need us," Simon said, as he stepped outside. "And we will celebrate later, sister." He smiled. Frowning, she hurried him with a little shove.

  "Go, and quickly," Lachlann said, and closed the door.

  Eva gasped as the rumble of horses increased in the smithy yard. When she heard a man shouting, she recognized the coarse quality of Colin's voice.

  "Gobha!" he called. "Come out, smith! And bring those rebels with you!"

  Chapter 28

  "Smith, come out, you!" Colin's hoarse cry rang out over the glen, echoing against steep, dark, misted hills. "Lachlann MacKerron! We need to reckon! Bring those rebels with you!"

  Lachlann went to the door of the smithy and opened it. The reddish gold light from within the smithy spilled over the doorstep and beyond, revealing four mounted Highlanders behind Colin, who was in the lead on a white horse, wearing armor and the Lowland clothing he favored. Lachlann stepped outside.

  "Colin Campbell." As he spoke, he drew the door shut so that Colin would not see Eva, but she pulled it open herself and stood in the doorway behind him.

  He wished she had kept out of sight. Her slim, dark loveliness and her bold temper were a volatile mix that could stir Colin to lust and rage. But Lachlann would not order her inside. She had a right to face Colin with her own grudge, as did he.

  "Smith, I want something from you," Colin said. "Ah, Eva. Where are your kinsmen? They stole horses from me, and that I will not tolerate."

  "They are not here," she said. "But your horses are in the stable. I have no idea how they got there. A harmless All Hallow's Eve prank that anyone could have done. It is not necessary to blame it on my kinsmen."

  "Lady, some of your kinsmen were seen."

  "It cannot be proved. And your livestock are safe, after a little exercise. Take the horses with you and leave here."

  Colin turned to his men. "Go look in the stable. If the rebels are hiding in there with those horses, bring them out to me!" The men rode across the yard, and Colin turned to glare at Lachlann. "Smith, we have business." He lifted his sword, its edge glinting, and swayed in his saddle.

  "He is drunk," Eva murmured to Lachlann. "I have seen it before in him, but not like this. He can hardly keep his seat."

  "When I learned who you are, smith, I wanted to bring this blade to show it to you," Colin said. "Your father made this sword for my father. It is a good blade. But your father promised mine another sword, and never delivered. I want it now."

  "If my father made the sword you hold, then it is the best you can get from a MacKerron smith. You need no other."

  "Made it," Colin said, "and died under it." He swayed again, righted himself. "I was there that night. I saw it."

  "So I heard," Lachlann replied flatly.

  "Tragic night, and it still haunts me," Colin muttered. "And it haunts me more that my father died without holding the sword he craved, the one your father owed to him. I want that from you now, to close an old bargain."

  Lachlann looked at the blade, and at Colin. His vision, his very heart, seemed to darken with rage. Drawing a long breath, he turned his head stiffly. "Eva," he said, "on the ledge you will find a two-handed broadsword. Bring it to me."

  She spun without a word and went inside.

  "Gobha," Colin growled, "we are not done with our business! Do not think to go inside with her, unless you want this wondrous good blade between your ribs!"

  Lachlann strode toward him. "No bargain can be made between us," he said. "Be gone from here, and come back sober. Then we will bargain—or deal otherwise with one another."

  "If you do not have the sword I seek, then make one for me." Colin drew a gold coin from his belt pouch and tossed it toward Lachlann. It fell unclaimed at his feet.

  Colin turned. "Ah, Eva, back again, and with a fine sword! Is this the one I want?" He leaned down to snatch at the sword, but Eva handed it to Lachlann, who closed his hand around the horn hilt and pointed the blade downward.

  "This one is mine," Lachlann said. The power of the blade seemed to travel up into his arm. Rather than keying him to an explosion of strength and rage, his father's sword infused him with a strange calm and patience, like a hand upon his shoulder. Lachlann watched Colin with a lethal glare and did not move.

  "MacKerrons are the finest weaponsmiths in Scotland," Colin said. "Finlay made a good blade, but Tomas MacKerron made better—his had faery power. That is what I want. And All Hallow's, when the curtain between our realm and the magical one opens, is an auspicious time for gaining that. I share my father's dream of owning a blade of faery make, but my ambition is greater." He smiled, and his horse shifted under him.

  "You are mistaken. No earthly smith can make a faery sword," Lachlann said. "They exist only in tales."

  "You are the one making the mistake," Colin said, and leveled his sword at Lachlann. "Give me a faery blade."

  "The rarest of that ilk lies at the bottom of Loch Fhionn," Lachlann said. "Go after that one—if you can."

  "Get you into that forge, smith, and make me a blade of charmed steel, bright enough to blind a man."

  "Such swords are only legend," Eva said. "And you are sodden, and should go home."

  "Your island is legend, but I have it now," Colin said.

  "My father wanted only the Sword of Light, but I want Innisfarna, and what comes with it—the sword to guard, and Scotland to hold!"

  "He is lit like a lantern," Lachlann muttered to Eva. "How he got over here on a horse is an amazement. There will be no reasoning with him. Colin, go home," he said, his voice raised.

  "Only the women of Innisfarna can hold that isle and protect the Sword of Light," Eva said. "Enough of this."

  "A sword kept by women—I know a better use for a good hard thruster with a woman!" Colin leered at her, then looked at Lachlann. "Have you cuckolded me with my wife, smith? Why is she here with you alone? I do not like that." He waved his sword, swayed, and nearly lost his seat.

  Lachlann flexed his hand on the hilt. "Colin, you and I have a quarrel with one another, but it will not be resolved tonight. I will not deal with a drunken man."

  "Answer me," Colin said. "Have you cuckolded me?"

  Eva stepped forward between Lachlann and Colin's horse and looked up at him. "Colin Campbell," she said, "if you forget this discussion in the morning, I will tell you again, but listen to me now. I do not accept our marriage, by reason of your poor behavior, and my own error. I made a promise to you that I could not keep. Before our betrothal, I had pledged my heart to another man, and that first pledge is the valid one. You threatened me, and I agreed for my kinsmen's sake. Now our marriage must be annulled. I am sorry if that causes you trouble."

  Colin blinked down at her. "
What?"

  "I refuse to be your wife," she repeated simply.

  "You have betrayed me with the smith!" He aimed his sword tip at Lachlann's chest. Lachlann slapped the flat of the blade away with his hand. Colin teetered in the saddle and shifted the sword to point it at Eva, leaning forward.

  Reaching up, Lachlann grabbed Colin's wrist, twisting it with little effort, and the man fell to the ground, losing his hold on the sword. Eva snatched it up, twirled the hilt expertly into her hand, and adopted a guarding stance. Colin sat up in the mud and stared at her in amazement.

  "I must be drunk," he muttered, and stood, stumbling.

  Lachlann rotated the pommel of his own blade, arcing the tip upward until it caught Colin at the base of his throat. "I have reached my limit," he growled. "You had a hand in my parents' death, and I owe them vengeance. But you are mean-spirited and sodden, and can barely stand. Get your men and leave this place. You and I will meet again for a fair contest."

  "You have no quarrel with me," Colin growled. "I saved your life that night."

  Lachlann narrowed his eyes. "What?"

  "You must know how your parents died. I know you went to see the charcoal burner and his madwoman. My kinsmen saw you."

  "Leod told me what he knew. Go on."

  "You were in your mother's arms, and she dropped you when she fell. I took my father away—a drunken old fool, he was that night, or he never would have done what he did. I heard her babe crying, and saw it crawling in the yard. Rode back and put the babe—you—in the house. Knew someone would find you. And they did. The charcoal man took you to Finlay. I saved your life," he repeated. "You have no quarrel with me, smith."

  Lachlann stared at Colin, his heart beating slow and hard. He lowered the sword and stood back. "Get you gone from here," he growled. "And do not come back."

  Stumbling, tripping, Colin heaved himself onto the horse and gathered the reins. "I will be back for that sword I just paid for." He looked at Eva. "My quarrel with your kinsmen still stands, and our marriage still stands. I am not so drunk that I do not know that. Innisfarna is mine, and you are mine. Remember that when you sleep tonight." He sneered. "And make certain you sleep alone, or I will be killing myself a smith."