Gavin

by Hazel Hunter

  Once Kinley had written the message for the clan, Catriona gently attached it to the leg of the dove she brought in.

  “Give me a moment, please,” she said to the laird’s wife, and then held the bird as she looked into its eyes for a long moment. The dove rubbed its head against her chin before it flew to Kinley, and tucked itself inside her bodice, where it nestled with a contented coo.

  Gavin knew she might be their only chance to survive, and still hated the thought of sending her out alone. “I should go with you.”

  “I have fire on demand, and you don’t, so you should stay here and be The Black Watch, Captain. Cat, you really know how to train your birds.” Kinley wrapped herself in the dark brown cloak Gavin had brought from Catriona’s trunk. “All right, I’m heading out. Cat, light some candles so you have them for the bombs if you need them before I get back. Also, don’t die while I’m gone. I’ll need you two to talk down my husband when he goes nuts about this. See you soon.”

  Gavin watched her go from the window, and then looked back at his lover, who sat holding her head. “She’ll make it to the portal.”

  “If Uncle hasnae blocked it off, like the spring, aye.” She raised her woeful face. “’Tis my fault you’ll die tonight. If I’d kept you in the future, you’d have lived a little longer. Mayhap they’d have found a cure, even.”

  “I’d rather die tonight than spend one more second being eaten alive by that facking disease.” He saw her shoulders shake, and picked her up from the chair. Carrying her over to the hearth, he sat down by the fire with her on his lap. “I want to die here, with you in my arms. If ’tis now, then so be it. I’m planning on it when we’re both very old and gray and ready for the world after this. Where we go, we go together now, my love.”

  “I cannae even promise you we shall reincarnate and find each other again.” She sighed. “My tribe never returned.”

  “We couldnae be together in the future,” he reminded her as he tipped up her chin. “Then we found each other here.” He brushed his mouth over hers, and tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. “’Tis no’ an accident, or coincidence. I love you, Catriona, and now I ken that I will forever, in this life and beyond it, wherever we go. Nothing again will keep the two of us apart.”

  “Three.” She took his hand and moved it to her flat belly. “I felt it the morning of the rainbow. The new life we made together grows inside me.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Gavin felt as if she’d clubbed him over the head. “But so soon. How can you be sure?”

  “My mother told me that a druidess feels the glow of life the moment we conceive a child,” she admitted. “I didnae ken what she meant until I felt our lad quicken inside me last night.” She caressed his hand. “If we live, he shall be the first of our bloodline. You can feel him, too, when you touch me.”

  Gavin focused on her belly, and felt something warm his palm. He stared at her. “Our son did that?” When she nodded he almost laughed out loud, and then understood why she felt so wretched. His own stomach suddenly dropped as he remembered their situation. “I have to get you out of here. You can use the portal to go to Ennis and Senga. They’ll keep you and the baby safe.”

  “I willnae run away from Uncle or the undead again.” She climbed off his lap and planted her hands on her hips. “I want my life with you, Gavin. Here, where we belong, with our son. Mayhap with other druid kind we might meet. We can build a new tribe, but first we must fight for it.”

  A trilling sound came from the window, and Gavin saw Jester flutter down to perch there. The nestling’s all-black feathers now showed new white patches, and gray patches on his dark bill. His dull gray webbed feet had grown huge, while the triangle of skin around his bright eyes had taken on a touch of blue.

  That was when he stood and saw what none of them had noticed. All around the cottage creatures sat patiently watching Catriona from the little nooks and niches they occupied. The hares and their leverets made a bumpy brown pile in the big basket by the hearth. The eiders had brought several friends. They sat with the female and the nest she’d made beside Cat’s kindling box. Two voles sat grooming a third under the table as their tiny young scampered about picking up stray grains from the floor. If she’d had a bathtub, Gavin probably would have seen the shark’s fin sticking up out of it.

  “You’re wrong, love.” He stretched out his hand, and Jester flew in to perch on his forearm. “You’ve already a tribe built.”

  “I reckon I do.” She came to caress the baby puffin’s scarred head. “I found his mother on the cliffs when I released him. She knew him by his scent. She’d waited for him, but now he’s come back.” She took in a quick breath as she looked around them and finally saw what he had. “They didnae scatter when the Romans came, but they fear the undead, Gavin.”

  “Their love for you is stronger.” A plan began to come together in his head. “’Tis the answer to everything.” He transferred Jester to an armchair, and went to the hearth to pluck a sliver of charcoal from the embers’ edge. “Would you bring me a gathering sack?”

  Catriona fetched the cloth bag, which Gavin cut apart at the seams and spread out on the table. He drew on it with the charcoal a rough outline of the island, and made an x over the position of the village. Then he handed her the sliver.

  “Draw the barrier and the spring, please,” he said.

  Catriona looked puzzled, but quickly added a curving line around the village and a smaller, irregular circle outside it for the spring.

  That gave him enough familiar markers to add a rectangle for his cottage, wavy lines for the waterfall, and a circle for the grove portal.

  “They willnae leave Danyel on the ship. They stole him as leverage to use against the druid and the laird. Where did Daimh breach the barrier the first time?” When she pointed to a spot close to the spring he nodded. “He wanted everyone in your village to see the undead marching in. He’ll likely do the same when they bring the boy to show him. Their full attention will be on Lachlan and Cailean, in fact. They’ll no’ even notice the animals.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ll no’ send my friends to attack the undead. They’ll be torn apart.”

  “No’ to attack,” he told her. “To deliver some gifts. Lachlan and I can hold them off from there, to give you time.” He explained the rest of his scheme.

  Catriona shook her head. “It cannae be me. It must be you.” When he started to protest she pressed her fingertips against his mouth. “A warrior doesnae only fight, Gavin. He protects. Just as the Pritani protect the innocent from the undead. I cannae do that as well as you. I think none of us can.”

  At that moment Lachlan and Cailean came into the cottage, and Gavin knew from the look on the laird’s face that their time had run out.

  “The undead have come ashore and now surround the barrier,” Lachlan said. “Ovate Lusk has done his best to strengthen the spell wall, but they have Daimh Haral with them. ’Twill only be a matter of time before they break through.” He glanced around the cottage. “Where is Kinley?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THROUGH THE SHIMMER of the barrier, Kinley saw hundreds of undead marching up from the shore, spurring her into a fast dash for the woods. As long as she stayed inside the barrier, she felt sure she’d remain invisible to the legion, but she was running out of glen. As soon as she reached the rounded corner by the forest, she had no choice but to head for the trail to the cliffs.

  “Where is Evander when I need him,” she muttered, and then ducked her head and stepped through to the other side of the barrier.

  Keeping her pale hair covered with the dark cloak, Kinley darted behind a wide-trunked tree and stopped to listen. The Romans’ boots made soft crunching sounds as they pounded their way over the long grasses. The torches the men in the front ranks carried left trails of oily smoke in the air. God, but she hated the heartless, murderous bastards for snatching Danyel. The legion liked to hurt the helpless. She wanted to burn them all, right to the
ground, but she couldn’t risk lighting up her hands. She might hurt the boy, and the flames she could throw would also give away her position.

  The dove in her bodice shifted, but thankfully didn’t make any sound.

  “Behave, birdie,” she said in a bare whisper, and stroked the head that popped up to look at her. “You’ve got to go save our lives.”

  Finally, the marching sounds stopped, and she peeked around the tree to see the undead standing in attack formations at the very edge of the barrier. In their center stood Quintus Seneca, dressed in battle armor and his fancy red cape. Another Roman in a dark hooded cloak also stood examining the barrier. Between them a short druid in a shiny gray robe was holding out his hands parallel to the barrier. Black and red sparks flew from his fingers but bounced off the spell boundary to fall and sizzle at his feet.

  “Come now, Ovate Lusk,” the druid called out in a loud voice. “You ken you are trapped with no hope of escape.”

  The men kept their eyes on their tribune, and their centurions had stepped forward to create some sort of front line. This was her moment.

  Kinley went from one tree to the next, taking advantage of the cover the forest provided until she was out of the legion’s sight.

  Making her way to the cliffs meant finding her way through the woods in the dark, but once she got away from the legion’s torch-bearers her eyesight sharpened and adjusted to the shadows. A few minutes later she reached the entry through the cliffs, and hurried through it into the passage.

  “Whew.” She stopped for a moment to gently pull the dove out of her cleavage, and cradled it between her hands. “We made it. Now just don’t pull me in after you, okay? I’m pretty sure I’d go back to the future and you wouldn’t like me so much on the other side. I have Frankenface there.”

  She didn’t hurry as she walked out into the clearing around the portal. Being one slip and fall away from the horrors she’d revisit in the twenty-first century made her extra cautious. The dove grew restless as she stopped outside the carved stones, and turned its head to glare at her.

  “Remember, go straight to the castle, and find Evander, or Raen, or just any big guy there.” She knelt down, feeling sweat inching down her temple as she reached out and held the dove over the portal.

  The carvings on the stone glowed with gold and blue light, and the ground swirled open to reveal a whirling tunnel beneath the surface.

  Kinley bent over as far as she dared, and released the dove, who flew down into the portal and disappeared. As soon as it did she snatched her hands away and watched as the ground solidified again. The stone carvings pulsated as she stood and backed up, and she scowled.

  “Stop trying to tempt me. Lachlan needs his personal flame-thrower on this trip.” She looked up at the sky, where the sun remained blotted out by the roiling disc of magic. “Just do what you can to keep me from disappearing, okay?”

  Going back the way she came worked fine, at least until she reached the glen. More Romans had arrived to add their numbers to those surrounding the barrier, which was now completely cut off. She backtracked and tried to find a break in the ranks, but the Romans had formed an undead barrier of their own.

  Kinley stopped under a pine tree, and noticed a branch that had snapped off that still had its needles attached. She picked it up and studied it before she eyed the legion again.

  “If you’re not going to make a hole,” she muttered as she summoned her gift of fire, “then I will.”

  Setting fire to the branch, she stepped out to fling it at the nearest undead. It landed on the heads of two, who shouted and ran, fanning the flames racing over their bodies and driving away every other soldier around them.

  Kinley rushed for the gap they created, dodging a few clawing hands as she clutched the cloak around her. She had almost reached the barrier when an arm whipped out and clotheslined her, knocking her on her ass.

  The big, pale-skinned undead looming over her displayed his fangs, and bent down to grab her. “A female, good.”

  “Not really good,” she said as she drove her boot into his groin, and then rolled onto her feet. “More like great.” With more Romans rushing at her from all sides she had to take a running leap to make it through the barrier. “Maybe amazing.”

  On the other side Kinley fell flat on her face, and got a mouthful of dirt for her trouble. She spat it out as she hoisted herself up and glanced back to see that no one had hitched a ride.

  “I should do this rescue thing professionally,” she said, feeling rather proud of herself. “Oh, wait, I did.” She did a little victory dance, until she saw the man standing and watching her. He had his unhappy face on.

  Kinley gave her husband a little wave. “Heya.”

  Lachlan folded his big arms.

  Since he also had that look in his eyes, her least favorite look, she decided to talk very fast. “I got the message bird through the portal. It looked pretty smart, so it’ll probably find Dun Aran. I figure, the minute they get it, they’ll grab their swords and hightail it over here.”

  His boot tapped the ground.

  “I also warned them about the spring being blocked and all those black ships out there.” She waited, and when he didn’t say anything she added, “Come on, don’t be mad. Someone had to go. Okay, they made me do it.”

  “No, they didnae.” He surveyed her thoroughly. “There are a thousand facking Romans out there, Wife.”

  “More like nine hundred and ninety-eight,” she corrected. “Two are charcoal. Okay, maybe three. It was hard to count while I was fleeing for my life.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “And look, I’m alive. I made it. Yay.”

  Lachlan pointed to the ground directly in front of him, and she trudged over to stand there.

  “Can I just say one more thing?” she asked meekly.

  “No. You’re the most reckless, mule-headed, thoughtless, irritating wench in all of Scotland,” he said sternly. “When we are done with this and return to the stronghold, I am shackling you to the bed. Naked. With guards. Many guards. Mayhap even Evander himself. Then I think I’ll have Meg feed you naught but fish and raisin pie for a month. No, two months.”

  “Boy, you really are mad.” Kinley wrinkled her nose, and then stepped a little closer. “At any time during my lengthy incarceration, bondage and torture, do I get to play with the snake?”

  “Aye.” His lips twitched. “But only after I’m done with you.” He brushed some dirt from her chin, and then finally dragged her into his arms and held her close. “Fack me, but I love you, you mad wee thing.”

  Kinley heard a crackling sound, and looked back to see the barrier starting to thin and fill with black and red sparks. “Hold the facking. We’re going to need to get some serious defenses up and running. We’d better get back to the village.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  SHAFTS OF LIGHT pierced a wide bank of storm clouds to bathe the dark towers of Dun Aran in silver splendor. As Captain of the Guard, Evander Talorc made his rounds of the duty stations three times daily, but also took time in the afternoon to walk with his wife, Rachel, who favored strolling down by the mysterious waters of Loch Sìorraidh.

  He simply loved being with her, although his preference would have been privately, in their bed chamber.

  “You’ve been quiet,” Evander said. “Have I done something to displease you?”

  “Me, no. The men.” She shrugged.

  “I am Captain of the Guard,” he reminded her. “No’ Wet Nurse. Who complained?”

  Rachel gave him a mildly exasperated look. “No one ever would.”

  He grunted. “Who thought about complaining?”

  “Sorry, I can’t reveal my sources.” She bent to pick a bit of heather from the grass. “I will tell you that running defense drills five times a day seems to me…a bit excessive.”

  “Defending the stronghold, excessive?” He feigned confusion. “I thought it my work.”

  She eyed him. “And planning to run them five times to
morrow morning before dawn is just plain mean, Evander.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. I’ve done worse. Talk to Raen, he’ll tell you.”

  “Here’s the thing: you have to stop worrying about them,” Rachel said, tucking her arm through his. “The laird has gone off more than once to be alone with Kinley. They’re probably snuggling together in some secret love nest. Also, you’re making the men want to kill you again, and since I like you alive…”

  “The men willnae kill me, and the Pritani dinnae have love nests,” he countered, and then saw the look she gave him. “Our cottage in the mountains wasnae that. ’Twas our home while I was a traitorous renegade and you were a poor time-lost lass.” He smiled at her. “But I did fall in love with you there, and we did nest, of sorts.”

  His wife laughed, something that still sent a shiver of delight through his chest. For weeks after she had been buried alive to cross over to him she had barely smiled.

  “Thanks for the concession,” Rachel said. “Anyway, what I mean is that I don’t think you should brood about it until you have reason to worry.” Her gaze shifted. “Is that Cailean?”

  Evander immediately tensed as he saw the young druid approaching them from the far side of the loch. “No. Rachel, go back to the castle now.”

  His petite wife didn’t move, and when he looked at her he saw her dark brown eyes appeared unfocused, which meant she was using her ability to read minds.

  The druid, whose robe looked dusty and stained from a long journey, stopped some yards away and tugged back his hood. He had the face of a young novice, and eyes filled with the knowledge of a man much older. His copper-red hair curled around his unlined features, and he wore a small, carved sea shell around his slender neck.

  “Fair day, Captain Talorc, Lady Rachel.” The shell swung as he bowed politely.

  When Evander glanced at his wife, he saw her pale. She also did not respond when he said her name. Immediately he drew the spear he carried in his shoulder sheath.