by Ria Cantrell
Celtic Peril
by
Ria Cantrell
Other Books by Ria Cantrell
Celtic Fury (January, 2013)
Celtic Tempest (May, 2013)
Celtic Spirit (March, 2014)
Knight Storm (October, 2014)
Morag’s Tears (May, 2015)
Celtic Peril
Copyright © 2016 by Ria Cantrell
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebook store and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All names and events are the creation of the author and are of a fictional nature. Any similarities are purely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Paul Crust
Dedication
So many people have supported me in this journey. I dedicate this book to my husband Paul, who believes in me and helps me live my dream.
Table of Contents
Cast of Characters
Prologue One
Prologue Two
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
About Ria Cantrell
Cast of Characters
Dr. Danny Callum and Deirdre Callum – adoptive parents of Tom Callum
Tom Callum- Front man for singing group Celtic Storm, adopted son of Dr. Danny and Deirdre Callum, adoptive cousin of Kiera Callum (See Tavish MacCollum)
Morag MacCollum – a wise old woman and healer gifted with The Sight and with the ability for Time Travel, former chatelaine of Clan MacCollum, biological mother of Tavish MacCollum
Ian MacCollum – Deceased husband of Morag MacCollum
Tavish MacCollum – Son of Ian and Morag MacCollum (See Tom Callum)
Caleb MacCollum – Laird of Clan MacCollum, father of Jamie, Shawn, Liam, Ruiri and Bronwyn MacCollum
Mairgred MacCollum – Deceased wife of Caleb MacCollum, mother of Jamie, Shawn Liam, Ruiri and Bronwyn MacCollum
Mara MacCollum – Second Wife of Laird Caleb MacCollum
Brigid Caitlyn MacCollum – Daughter of Ruiri and Brielle MacCollum
Roderick Campbell – Deceased brother of Derek Campbell and Brielle Campbell MacCollum, enemy to clan MacCollum
Derek Campbell – grandson of Laird Gavin Campbell, husband of Kiera Callum, former enemy of Clan MacCollum
Kiera Callum – wife of Derek Campbell
King Richard of Bordeaux – English King touring Scotland (Scottish Gyration), son of the Black Prince
Michael de la Pole – Lord Chancellor and Confidante to Richard of Bordeaux, one of the King’s Favorites
Lords Appellant – Advisors of Richard of Bordeaux
Stephen MacDougal – ally to the Clan MacCollum, father of Devin MacDougal
Gabrielle Campbell MacCollum (Brielle) – Wife of Rory MacCollum, sister of Roderick and Derek Campbell, mother of Brigid Caitlyn MacCollum and Connor MacCollum
Bronwyn MacCollum Brandham – Daughter of Caleb and Mairgred MacCollum, wife of Sir Andrew (Drew) Brandham, mother of Ian and Jenna Brandham, known as the Highland Rose
Sir Andrew Brandham – Captain of the Elite Guard of Sir Erik Ragnorsen, husband of Bronwyn MacCollum, father of Ian and Jenna Brandham, recognized member of Clan MacCollum by his own intent
Sir Ian Brandham – Son of Sir Andrew and Bronwyn Brandham, Brother of Jenna Brandham, named after Morag’s deceased husband, betrothed to Marianna Ragnorsen
Jenna Brandham – Daughter of Sir Andrew and Bronwyn Brandham, sister of Ian Brandham
Ruiri (Rory) MacCollum – Son of Caleb MacCollum, brother of Bronwyn, husband of Brielle Campbell MacCollum, father of Brigid Caitlyn and Conner MacCollum, known as the Highland Wolf, Uncle of Jenna and Ian Brandham
Jamie MacCollum – Brother of Ruiri, Liam, Shawn and Bronwyn MacCollum, husband of Sinead MacDougal, eldest son of Caleb and Mairgred MacCollum, sheep herder and wool manufacturer
Sinead MacDougal MacCollum – Wife of Jamie MacCollum; a modern time-traveler
Sir Rurik Ragnorsen – Deceased father of Sir Erik Ragnorsen
Lady Brekka Ragnorsen – mother of Sir Erik Ragnorsen
Sir Erik Ragnorsen – and English Knight of the Realm, husband of Rhianna du Montefort
Rhianna du Montefort Ragnorsen – Wife of Sir Erik Ragnorsen, healer
Marianna Ragnorsen – Daughter of Sir Erik and Rhianna Ragnorsen, fiancé of Ian Brandham
Conner MacCollum – Son of Ruiri and Brielle, eventually marries the daughter of Stephen MacDougal
Jerome McManus – Enemy of Ruiri and Brielle MacCollum, henchman and assassin
Celtic Peril
“Sometimes souls recognize each other, no matter how long they have been separated; and they rejoice in the reunion.” – Sir Tavish MacCollum
~Prologue One~
Deirdre listened as her young son sang a tune that was not one she had ever heard, at least not that she could recall; yet he sang it with clarity. She listened closely, for the words were not in a language she understood nor was it a language she even recognized. Her son was such an enigma. She and her husband, Daniel Callum, had legally adopted Tommy after he had been left as a foundling at the hospital where she and Danny both worked.
Deirdre had thought he was only a few months old but after he had been examined and blood work had been drawn, it was determined that the boy was nearly 2 years old. He had been well cared for, but his lungs seemed to have been weak and under-developed. Someone ha
d loved this child but realized he needed medical care and stat. Deirdre had been the nurse that had found the child left in strange clothes, lying in a hand-crafted wicker basket. Deirdre guessed, perhaps the little boy had been a preemie.
Now, listening to her son singing in the mysterious language that seemed to be only known by Tommy, Deirdre fingered the one possession that had come with him that fateful day at the hospital. It was a plaid blanket of the softest wool, the likes Deirdre had never seen before. Deirdre allowed her mind to wander while Tommy sang so sweetly. She thought about those early days when it seemed the child’s life hung in the balance. The sweet strains of her child’s voice broke into her dire thoughts of how close she had come to losing him. Not only had he been so very ill, his blood work had shown none of the immunities that are naturally found in children born in this modern age.
With extensive medical care, Tommy rallied and actually thrived. They had done a lengthy search to try to find some relatives of the child, but they could find no one and not a soul stepped forward to claim him. It was as if he had been dropped in from another time and place. They could not find his natural mother or any records of his birth.
Finally, after almost a year Dr. and Deirdre Callum legally adopted the little boy as their own. It had been a hard struggle at first, for the boy seemed so lost. But as the months turned into years, whatever memories the child held were replaced with loving ones of his new family. The only thing that remained now of his past was the plaid blanket and that song he always sang when he was playing by himself.
When Deirdre tried finding Tommy’s mother, she researched the plaid that had been found with the child. What she discovered only puzzled her further. It had become an obsession of sorts for Deirdre and she was determined to learn everything she could about it. What she was finally able to discern was that the plaid represented an ancient clan from the Highlands of Scotland; a clan that had practically sunk into obscurity over the course of time. The plaid was similar to the plaid of clan Campbell, but was from a clan named MacCollum. Deirdre remembered feeling a chill at reading that name for it was so much like the inception of her own last name; Callum. She learned from the research of this clan that the name had morphed into Malcolm. Deirdre remembered feeling uneasy when she had read that the MacCollums faded from notoriety since the late 14th century. She did not know why that fact sent a chill down her spine, but as she read the words she felt an ominous cloud conjured up from the past.
Now, all she had learned about the plaid and its subsequent clan was that they were known for their fine wools. Clearly, someone had researched it enough to try to replicate the nuances of the warp and weft of the intricate design in the blanket that was found with her precious child. Still, Deirdre did not like thinking about it for some reason. Couple those ominous premonitions with the strange song Thomas sang in his sweet child’s voice, and that dreadful feeling crept into her veins again. She just could not put her finger on it. Perhaps her husband would know if the words Tommy sang were just the imaginings of the child or if they represented some language he was remembering from before Deirdre and Daniel had adopted him. That thought alone struck unwanted fear within her for reasons that were not clear but seemed as real as the breath she exhaled.
The sound of her child’s voice rang sweetly and stirred her heart as only a mother’s heart could be stirred. She could not have loved the child more if she had given birth to him herself. She and her husband had tried to conceive in vain for years and when they had exhausted the options and many wasted dollars, all seemed to be lost. They were not going to have a child. They talked about adoption, never thinking that their precious Thomas would literally be dropped on their doorstep. Thomas had been like a gift from God and the moment Deirdre had laid eyes on him, she fell in love; just as any mother does upon seeing her child for the first time.
Tommy had been such a sickly little boy at first, but those days were now behind him. The rosy glow of health now appeared in his cheeks had long replaced the sallow pallor. He still was prone to lung troubles, like bronchitis and bouts of asthma, but lots of kids suffered with those things and they eventually outgrew them. The fact that Tommy seemed to like to sing gave Deirdre hope that it was a natural way to strengthen his lungs so that those troublesome ailments would soon not bother her child much longer.
As Deirdre peered out of her kitchen window, Tommy looked up and waved. He ran toward the house, bursting into the door as only a rambunctious child could and he hugged his mother around her waist. He said, “What’s for lunch, Mom?”
Smiling, she squeezed Tommy a little tighter and said, “Well, what would you like? I can make you a grilled cheese or peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Oh I know, how about some nice hot macaroni and cheese?”
“Oh boy! Yes, that’s what I’d love.”
Patting the little boy’s back, Deirdre said, “Go wash up and I’ll get that mac & cheese right up for you.”
With a sloppy smile showing the empty space where his first baby tooth had come out, Tommy began to skip down the hall to wash his hands. He had not gotten too far when Deirdre called him back and said, “Hey Tom, what was that song you were singing?”
“Don’t you know it, mom? You always sang it to me when I was sick.”
Deirdre once again felt that chill of foreboding rake through her for the second time that day. She was sure it was something Tommy was remembering from his natural mother. Clearly she had never sung that song to him nor did she know the language it was in. MacCollum; could it be Gaelic? That seemed possible, actually. Gaelic; Tommy was singing in Gaelic.
With no real papers or history on him, the fear of losing Thomas always niggled at that place she pushed down where unspoken fears tend to dwell. Deirdre thought she would always worry that someone would take him away from her. She did not like thinking things like that. She was a nurse who had supported herself and then her husband when he was in med school. She should not give in to fears that for now had been unfounded.
She forced her voice to not tremble because Tommy was a very sensitive little boy and she was not going to shatter his world just yet. Yes, they would tell him he was adopted; just not yet. For goodness sake, he wasn’t even six years old; well as far as they could determine, anyway. Deirdre couldn’t let it go completely so she said, “Oh yes, that’s right. But I don’t remember exactly as well as you do. Tell me what the words mean again.”
Deirdre hoped he would say that they were just make-believe words but instead he said, “Mom, you know what they mean.”
“Tell me again. I like it when you say it.”
He sang the first stanza and then said definitely, “The little bird in the tree looks down on your bed and he watches you till you fall asleep keeping you from all harm.” He sang the next frame and translated, “And the blanket of night wraps you up tight keeping you safe and warm.”
Deirdre swallowed the lump of lead that had formed in her throat and she fixed a smile on her lips. “Oh, that’s right. Now I remember. Go and wash up now because lunch will be ready soon.”
Those words weren’t just imaginative ones conjured by the pretending games of a child. Her son was singing a song in Gaelic which he probably remembered his natural mother singing to him. Deirdre had no idea how to translate or understand it. She wondered if she would ever know or if any of the mysteries surrounding Tommy would be revealed. For now, the most important thing was getting lunch ready for a hungry little boy and ominous thoughts must be put aside for later consideration.
~Prologue Two~
The woman peered from behind the column of the stark white room. She could still see where she had laid her babe in a basket near some chairs. Her heart seemed to burst within her chest as tears choked her and sobs threatened. It was a terrible decision to have to leave her son in the hands of strangers, but she knew of no other way.
He had been so sick for such a long time and she feared he would soon succumb to the illness that had plagued him since birth. H
e had come too early and the woman blamed herself for that as well. She had cried so many tears because of the passing of her beloved husband that she was sure that the grief bore its weight on her unborn child. Now he was all that was left of her precious union and if he were to die, she was certain she could not live with the guilt of it.
So she chose life for him, instead; even if that life meant that she could not see him grow to manhood. She had to make a choice of finding someone who could help heal her child; never to see him again, or to watch him die a slow and painful death while he fought for each and every last breath. What could a mother do? She knew that these people, in this time; in this strange place washed in white, would give her child a chance to live.
She prayed to all the Guardians and the One True God, Himself, that her beloved child would be loved, cherished and cared for. She knew that doing this one deed, she had broken the unspoken code, for one was not supposed to use the Gifts of the Ancients for personal gain. She silently begged for Their forgiveness for this selfish breach of the rules as the tears poured from her eyes in an endless stream.
Alas, the woman was not from this era, whatever time that it may be, but she had been given the Gift to manipulate time from the Ancients. She prayed and waited for the full moon on the eve of the Summer Solstice to gain the portal for her to bring her son through. It was always harder to make that leap with another person, but her son’s life depended on it.
She had faith that if she was granted to open the portal; that the time in which she hoped to land would be one that could see to the cure of her poor babe’s ailments. She was a smart woman and she knew that the time from whence she came could not aid her dying child, but somewhere far in the future, she knew that he could be helped. She hoped with all her heart that her sacrifice would not be in vain.
She pressed herself tighter to the column which hid her from the eyes of people bustling about the sterile room. No one seemed to see her or be interested in her to give her a glance. As tears slashed across her cheeks, the woman quietly bid her beloved son farewell.