by Ria Cantrell
She had been well acquainted with violence. Caleb knew his son would never let her go. In Brielle’s pain and fear, she was so very brave. She was willing to sacrifice her life for Rory. She would rather lie to save Rory than have him come to harm. She would rather risk her own life than have Ruiri save her from a world of abuse. And Caleb knew her life was indeed at risk. She was unhealthy, thin and she bore bruises that spoke of repeated violence. Caleb was certain Roderick Campbell could and would cause his sister to suffer abuse or worse; even death after torture. He did not want to think of the things this monster could do to this precious girl. Caleb knew that she could not take much more abuse and he was certain Roderick would happily kill her once her usefulness was past. Caleb held her, drawing her to his chest. She did not hug him back, trying to keep her careful ruse at the surface. She would not come with him. He knew that now. Rory would have to settle this. He hated to leave her there. She had already suffered so much. He felt her sob against his shoulder. She was breaking his heart.
“Lassie, I wish ye’ would not make me leave ye’ here.”
“It is all I can do.”
Ye’ can come home with me. Be with Ruiri. Her eyes flew to Caleb’s and she said, “I can’t.” Tears ran down her face and she choked.
“Ye’ must go now. I am sorry.”
“Me too, lassie. For everything.” She nodded and turned away, staring back out of the window.
He won’t believe ye’.
I know…make him believe me. Caleb, you have to convince him. I will not have his blood on my hands.
Defeated, Caleb silently left the room. He made his way slowly out of that main-hall, he picked up the baskets and left the buttery. Caleb was amazed that the keep had so few people that even a cook was not available there to detain him. What sort of life had he left Brielle to? His heart was sick thinking about the squalor he witnessed, not to mention the sight of her beaten and broken. Caleb knew she had made her decision to spare Rory, but her life was in danger. In all his years as laird of his clan, this dilemma was by far the most disturbing. His sense of honor made him not want to leave her, but he also did not want to force her, for then he would be no better than her brothers. Part of him wanted to dash back up those stairs and carry her down kicking and screaming just to get her out of this horrible place. Still, doing such a thing would be as bad as what had already befallen her. With a heavy heart, Caleb made his way out of the keep. He felt horrible, but he knew that as soon as Rory returned, he would come for Brielle. He was sure those drunken untrained men would be no match for Rory. He prayed that Rory would make it back soon. The lass would not survive long under these deplorable conditions. And worse than the prospect of physical harm, Caleb saw the light leaving her eyes. Denying his son had cost her dearly. She was dying inside. Caleb knew about that sort of death; a death born of heartbreak. Rory knew it well, too, which is why Caleb knew time was short.
Upon their return to their own keep, Caleb saw that the stables were full. His sons had returned, thank the Lord. He rushed into the main hall and was met with the grim faces of two of his sons and a murderous looking Morag. Christ! Now what? Where the hell was Rory? Morag nearly flew at him and demanded, “Where is the girl?”
“She refused my help. What has happened?” Liam spoke up.
“Rory left for home near a week ago. He felt like something bad had happened to Brielle.”
“Something bad has happened to her. A week? Where the hell is he then?”
“We dunna’ know. He refused to take his men at arms. He just wanted to get home to her.”
“What do ye’ mean she refused yer’ help? You saw her?” Morag demanded.
God, the last thing Caleb wanted to deal with right now was this harpy, admonishing him yet again. He was laird of the clan, dammit and he deserved some respect. He pulled in his breath and he said, “She has denied my son and wants to stay at Campbell Keep. Oh, and a more disgusting place ye’ will not find.”
“And ye’ let her make that choice? She is not thinking clearly. She is bound to Ruiri.”
“Cease, woman. She has been beaten, daily it would seem. She looked sickly and weak. She is scared to death…but not for herself. For herself she is resigned to her fate. She is scared for Ruiri. She cares not for her own safety but she fears her brothers want to kill Rory and I must say, I actually agree. So she thinks if Ruiri believes she doesna’ love him, he will stay away from Campbell and not get killed.”
“Nothing will keep Ruiri away. No amount of danger. He took the ancient binding rite. He will not break it,” Morag said adamantly. Caleb looked at Morag.
“Old woman, do ye sense danger for my son? Is he in trouble?” She concentrated, as she had done since his brothers had returned. Frowning, so that the wrinkles in her face deepened, she said, “I do not know. I canna’ feel him. T’is like he is blocked. I dunna feel that he is hurt or…worse, but something is wrong. He has blocked me…Caleb…that means the darkness fills his heart again.”
Caleb knew that Morag’s gift of Sight was strong and so too, he knew that when Rory felt the darkness, he would block himself off to protect others from experiencing the supposed taint. Only Caleb knew that the only one who really needed protection from that “darkness” was Rory himself.
Rory confused grief and pain with a supposed darkness that was just his own. His son was not the monster legend had made him out to be. Sure, he was a strong fighter, driven to the fray at any cost, but Caleb knew Rory never abused those he loved when he was in the throes of the Darkness.
Caleb ran his hand through his hair. By God, he was tired. Blowing out his breath in a heavy sigh he said, “Alright. Well, I will go into the highlands and find him.” Morag softened her stance and said, “Ye’ must rest a wee bit and then go. Ye’ look tired, Caleb.”
When she called him by his name, he knew she was trying to make amends for being so gruff.
“The sooner I set out, the sooner I find my son and help him and the sooner he will be able to bring Brielle home.”
“A few hours will not change things. Ye’ will be of no use if ye’ dunna’ rest. I will send up a bath fer ye’.” Caleb nodded. She was right. He did need a rest, only he could not get Brielle out of his mind. That lost look in her eyes, like one who’s spirit was broken. He had seen it often in his own son.
Ah, Ruiri, where are ye’ lad? Yer’ girl needs ye’.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It had been nearly two and half weeks that Rory was the reluctant “guest” of the MacDougal. He worked with the men tirelessly during the day and at night after his evening meal, he would be locked in his quarters to prevent him from leaving during the night. Except for the confinement, he was actually well treated. The men accepted his commands and looked to him for leadership. ‘Course, they were instructed to obey by the MacDougal. Still, Rory was actually amazed that they considered him their captain. Never the less, he was restless. He paced around his bedchamber, filled with frustrated energy despite the long hours in training. He should, by all rights, be exhausted, but he was not. Brielle was in trouble. He knew it.
Every time he tried to reach out to her in his mind, he felt that squeezing around his heart. It felt like her heart was broken. He had to find out what had happened to his love. He had to save her. His very life depended on it. He felt the darkness creeping back into his soul. Brielle’s light and love had dispelled it. Without her presence, it easily found a home within him.
He prayed silently, “Please be alright. Please dunna’ die.” But as he said those words, he felt like she had somehow suffered not a physical death, but a spiritual one of sorts. Rory tried to clear his mind and tap into the old ways. He pushed back the darkness as best he could and he tried to see her in his mind. He had an image of his Brielle staring blindly out a window, lifeless, not dead, but barely living. There was that painful squeezing around his heart again. It caused him to suck in his breath. It was causing physical pain to his heart.
Wh
o had broken his Brielle’s spirit? As he formed the question, he knew the answer in his own heart. Campbells! Pain seared in his chest again as he realized his heart was one with hers. How could the Campbells have hurt her? How could his father have let it happen? Rory paced about, feeling his rage surface to full potent. He would speak to MacDougal in the morning. He had to make a plea for Brielle’s sake. Rory flopped onto the bed, thinking that sleep would be elusive, but he sank quickly into slumber, finally succumbing to the physical exhaustion of the day.
~The mists swirled around Rory. He could feel the unnatural coolness around his legs.
“Caitlyn.”
He felt her emerge before seeing her. For a moment he felt her pain of that horrible day all over again. He was lying on the cold ground, wounded. It was that day, so many years ago, only the arrow was in his heart, not hers. She stood before him, pale and beautiful.
“Am I dying, Caitlyn?”
“Ye’ will die, if yer heart dies, Ruiri. Please hurry.”
“Brielle?”
“Those who pierced me have her. She has no more hope.”
Caitlyn came to him, leaned in and kissed Rory’s cheek. She pulled the arrow from his heart and he expected to feel the pain and agony of it, but he only felt numbness and a cold dread. Caitlyn helped him to his feet and she handed him the arrow.
“Hurry, Ruiri. Ye are not the only one the darkness threatens. It threatens her now. She will die if you dunna' hurry. If she does. . . so will ye'. Their evil runs deep.”
“But who…”
As Caitlyn faded, the wind whispered, “Campbell.”~
Rory woke with a start. He was drenched in a cold sweat. That was it then. Brielle’s brothers had her. Thinking about the horrible scar she bore that was all too close to her jugular, Rory remembered: They had almost killed her once. They would try again especially if they knew she had become his lover and mate. It would not matter if they had taken the ancient vows. They would surely see it as dishonor. Dear God, they would kill her simply for having kissed him! Morning was slow in coming. He had to make a bargain with his captor. Brielle’s life depended on it.
“Hold on my love, I will come for ye’.”
Rory ached to hold her and to feel her in his arms. He needed her but his desires were quelled by the feeling of her danger and it was most important to get her to safety.
After an eternity of a night; at long last, morning finally broke.After hours of sleeplessness, Rory could hear his guard sliding the bar on his chamber door free. Rory leapt for the door practically knocking the jailer out of the way. Turning back he called, “Where is the Laird?”
“Busy in his chambers but ye canna'. . . .”
“I can and I will.”
Rory strode down the corridor; his long legs quickening his stride to the master chambers of the keep. He was stopped by a man servant, but Rory pushed passed him. A personal guard stood before the heavy doors, barring his way.
“I need to speak with the laird,” Rory demanded.
“He is busy.”
The guard made the mistake of pushing a finger into Rory’s chest. Without thinking, Rory’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling. Rory didn’t even give the guard a second thought. He pounded on the doors.
“Who is it?”
“Rory MacCollum.”
“I am busy.”
Undaunted, Rory pounded harder on the door, his anger and frustration fueling his ire.
“So help me God, MacDougal, open this feckin’ door or I will break it from its hinges.”
To emphasize his point, Rory threw his weight against the door and it indeed groaned under the assault. Another slam and there was a cracking noise. Rory would smash it to splinters if given the chance.
Finally, a disgruntled Stephen MacDougal flung the doors wide. Rory had obviously disturbed him with some girl and that only fanned Rory’s anger. While he cooled his heels for the likes of the MacDougal clan, Brielle was in eminent danger and here was MacDougal dallying with some maid. His fury nearly exploded.
“Ye’ had better explain yerself.”
“I am done being yer puppet MacDougal. While I inflict the discipline yer’ clansmen need to become fighters, ye’ are holed up with some doxie. T’is time to take responsibility for yer’ clan. I have my own responsibilities to my family. My woman is in trouble. I dunna’ want to say how I know it, but it is so. Ye’ can kill me if ye’ want, but I am leaving. The way I see it, ye’ need me alive to help ye’, so here is my plan. Let me go home. Let me take care of my business and I will come back to help ye’ with yer’ men. I will even promise some of my clan to aid ye'. Ye’ have my word and my word is my honor, but either way, I am leaving.”
“I could have ye’ imprisoned.”
“But what use would I be to ye’ then? The way I see it, in the best interest of yer’ clan t’would be to let me go.”
Stephen glanced back at the lass in his bed. He said, “Lassie, ye’ best go. I need to finish this matter.”
The girl pouted, but wrapped herself in a plaid and sauntered past Rory. She had the audacity to look at Rory with pure lust, right in front of the MacDougal. Rory rolled his eyes. Doxies were all the same. He was amazed that he actually found that distasteful as of late. He had had his fair share over the years since Caitlyn had died. In fact, t’was more his style than bedding a lass who could fall in love with him, but since having Brielle love him, the mere thought of tupping a lass like that made him want to puke. The guard was back on his feet and was coming towards Rory. Stephen said, “That will be all. Ye' are relieved.” Rory followed Stephen into his chambers and watched him shut the doors.
“Have a seat, Rory.” Rory thought to stand, but then took a seat at a table when the MacDougal sat across from him.
“Ye’ need to tell me how ye’ know she is in danger. Ye’ve had no missives. No one even knows ye’ are here.”
“I just know.”
“Then if ye’ dunna’ convince me, why should I believe yer’ word? We shall have nothing further to discuss.”
Rory felt that errant muscle flexing in his jaw. He said, “It doesna’ matter if ye’ believe me or not. I am leaving and as I said, I may die trying, but ye’ would lose on all grounds, because once my clan learns of my fate, they will surely avenge me. No longer will ye’ be just a rival clan, but a sworn enemy and I promise ye’, they will not rest till yer clan is razed. A blood feud will ensue. And yer’ men are not strong enough yet to be victorious against MacCollum!” Stephen pondered his words and while they were insulting, Stephen knew Rory was telling the truth. His clan would be razed and his men were too undisciplined to muster to the cause.
“How do I know once ye’ are released that won’t happen anyway?” Rory looked horrified.
“By God, did ye’ plan to keep me prisoner forever?” Stephen MacDougal looked abashed.
“In truth I didna’ think that far ahead. I knew I needed one of ye' to help my ranks. Happening upon ye’ was my plan best laid. Yer’ work with my men has been quite remarkable.” Rory sighed heavily.
“I’ve got to get to my girl.” He nearly choked on his next statement, “The Campbell dogs have her.” MacDougal grunted in disgust.
“But she is a Campbell. How ye’ could fall in love with one of those is beyond me.” It was common knowledge that Stephen’s clan hated the Campbells as much as the MacCollums.
“She is an angel…kind of heart and beautiful. She is not like those demon spawns. I suspect she is a half sibling, although she has never said as much. It just does not seem possible she is fully blooded to them. They have abused her throughout her entire life. And now they have her again.”
“But ye dunna’ know that for sure.”
“I do! Look, many clans dunna’ follow the Old Ways any more, but I…still have ties to it and my bloodline still has the ancient gifts of Instinct.”
“Ye’ mean, ‘The Sight’?”
Rory nodded and swallowed hard. Ma
ny now felt that those pagan ways were devil born. Some even thought it was the markings of insanity.
“It’s more than the Sight. It is a tie to the ancient world both present and past. Some of those who have gone before, bring us messages and warnings…portents of danger.”
“Are ye tellin’ me ye see ghosties, Rory MacCollum?”
Rory’s eyes lowered. Even speaking it, it sounded insane, but what else could he say but the truth. His sighed heavily and said, “Just one, actually. T’is my fault, really. I never let her go and now she is earthbound. The Campbells killed her on my way to my wedding.”
“Aye, I remember that. T’was a long time ago. Many seasons have passed since that time.”
“Aye t’was a long time ago…but it confirmed my fears last eve. I mean, I have been feeling Brielle’s harm since my…arrest.”
Stephen MacDougal stood up and poured them both a drink of mulled mead. Rory thought that he looked strangely pale.
“I dunna’ like trifling with the spirit world.”
“Aye and my neglect has kept that doorway opened. So ye see, I must save my Brielle. Mayhap once she is safe, that doorway can be closed.”
Stephen MacDougal looked very uneasy. He said, “Is she here…now?”
So, the MacDougal was afraid of ghosts. If Rory was not so distraught, he would have laughed. He thought about saying, Aye she is standing right next to ye’, but he had noticed that Stephen had gone even paler still. It would not help his cause to humiliate the MacDougal. Rory found it slightly amusing that a trained warrior could be brave in battle but the mere mention of the “Ancient Ones” could send one to hide beneath the covers.
“Nay, she mostly comes to me when I am sleeping. I have only seen her once or twice while awake and those times were when I was consumed with darkness or grief.”
Stephen took a deep gulp of the mead, letting the liquid warm him. He remembered the day of Rory’s capture and how he had dropped his sword while looking as if he had indeed seen a ghost. Now Stephen MacDougal knew Rory had. He pondered Rory’s words and finally he said, “Alright. We shall leave in three days hence for Campbell keep.” Rory’s eyes snapped to the MacDougal.