The MacLomain Series: A New Beginning Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Purington, Sky

  Like everything else, because it was so closely connected to the Brouns and MacLomains, the tree had suffered. That, as everyone knew, was seen clearly on Graham and Christina’s adventure when it nearly died in their time loop.

  “’Tis good to hear the tree’s well.” Adlin smiled. “And that its magic remains with you via that book.”

  She nodded as she eyed it again. It was hard to imagine the day had come that she cherished this book rather than hated it. But it had, and she did. There was nothing left of the enemy tarnishing it.

  It was entirely hers now.

  “So how did it happen?” Bryce persisted. “How did the ring finally shine?”

  “I believe because of this book,” she said softly. “I took a chance and tried something.”

  She explained how she had drawn the ring shining his eye color on the page after the one drawn of the warlock.

  “I drew it ahead of time and only needed to put the final touch on it today,” she explained. “Then on the next page, I had just enough time to sketch an image of looking down on the warlock as though I was, indeed, a dragon.”

  She grinned as she continued. “Everything we did yesterday summoning the warlock was a set up. Not only did we want to see what he was capable of, but we wanted to paint a false picture.” Jessie purposely looked drifty eyed for effect. “Naturally, I was impossibly drawn to him and let him know telepathically that I intended to be with him. That I had realized the error of my ways and would lead you to slaughter today if it meant becoming as strong as I once was.”

  Her smile went from the arch-wizards back to him. “And they, of course, as powerful as they are, threw everything they had at him,” she mock pouted, “only to discover they just didn’t have what it took to defeat the last warlock.”

  Bryce grinned. “Which gave it a false sense of security.”

  “That’s right.” She met his grin. “So all I needed to do today was act as emotional and taken with him as possible, so he believed my weakness.” She shook her head. “He had only ever seen me unemotional, and in control, so it would make sense that I was angry that I had lost that. It made sense that I would want to be strong again.”

  “’Twas all verra clever, lass.” Yet Bryce’s smile wavered as his brows drew together in distress. “And also verra risky.” He shook his head. “So many things could have gone wrong.” He gestured at her ring. “Namely that shine you manifested being false and not possessing the necessary power.”

  “Like you said, it was a risk.” Her eyes held his. “But one I was willing to take if it meant saving Scotland...and freeing you.”

  “Och, lass,” he whispered before he brushed his lips across hers again then eyed the ring. “And ‘tis real. The shine remains. You’re my one true love.” Pride lit his eyes as they returned to hers. “And the most bonny wee black dragon I’ve ever seen.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Wee?” She stood up a little taller and notched her chin. “I was much taller than you.”

  “Because I was still in human form.” He chuckled and kept her close. “When I’m a dragon I’m at least twice your size.”

  Jessie was about to respond when Adlin interrupted. “Though I hate to disturb you, we’re running out of time.”

  Jessie and Bryce looked at him as she said, “Running out of time?”

  “Aye,” Grant exclaimed. “The moment has finally arrived to witness our last round of history.”

  “Aye,” Adlin agreed. “The grand rout or should I say the Battle of Byland Moor is about to begin!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  BY THE TIME THEY RETURNED, history had started to unfold precisely as it should but not before the others congratulated Bryce and Jessie. Not only for igniting their ring, but for defeating the last warlock and at long last, lifting the curse. Thanks to their mental connection, they had followed everything.

  Bryce was still adjusting to how he felt now. How complete. It was strange living one’s whole life without realizing they were not at their best. That they were not all they should be. Now he felt it though. A new clarity and strength that had been lacking before. More than that? He now felt the magnitude of the intense connection he shared with Jessie. In some ways, it was as if she had been there all along, but he’d only just realized it.

  Though he was desperate to be alone with her and further explore their intensified bond, now wasn’t the time. Too much was happening and that became clear when Sir James Douglas joined everyone. But not for long. Robert soon ordered James and Thomas Randolph along with six thousand moss-troopers and spearmen to directly assault the ridge next to Roulston Scar.

  “He’s hoping the Earl of Richmond will call on his reserve forces to meet this threat,” Conall explained to Lindsay. Though she was the only one unfamiliar with the battle, Bryce noticed Milly and Jessie seemed to appreciate the history lesson as well.

  He knew Jessie had witnessed several battles while with the warlocks so she could handle what she was about to see. The violence and massive death toll. Still, as they sat on a horse, he wrapped his arms around her and kept her close for support.

  As forecasted, when the English watched the advance of the Scots out of the smoke, the Earl of Richmond did as Robert anticipated. He countered by sending fifteen thousand men down the slope to assault the inferior Scottish force.

  Roars arose, and metal clashed as the battling began.

  “Naturally, what the Earl of Richmond has not observed,” Conall continued, “is that the gully the Scots are advancing up from is verra narrow and constricted with steep slopes on each side.” He grinned. “This makes movement on horseback verra difficult.” He gestured at what was unfolding. “And see. The Earl’s finding out too late that he can only attack on a verra narrow front which the Scots are aptly defending by forming a schiltrom with their long spears.”

  This, as they could very well see, turned the first English charge into a bloody mess of dead, dying and injured horses and men. The foul smell of blood, sweat, and excrement drifted on the chilly wind.

  “And now the Earl of Richmond is sending down more men as the Bruce sends up his highlanders under Neil Campbell of Loch Awe and Robert MacGregor,” Conall said as the Scots proceeded to assault both flanks of the English position.

  “The Scots are dressed far better for this,” Lindsay commented.

  And they were.

  The lightly clad clansmen scaled both flanks driving the English back with their fierce attacks and Gàidhlig—Gaelic—war cries. Thus, they forced the Earl of Richmond to pull in all his picquets, or small units of soldiers, and guards to throw into the battle.

  This left the alternative route unguarded.

  “This is when King Robert will strike with force,” Bryce murmured as he squeezed Jessie’s hand. Like his cousins, it was hard to contain his excitement.

  Everyone followed at a distance on horseback and watched as the Bruce made his move.

  One he had been building toward for months.

  Robert and his remaining moss-troopers and light cavalry made their way largely unseen, onto Shaws Moor. There in front of them lay, unprotected, the encampments of the Sassenach army. He formed his men into three arrowhead divisions, and with the trumpeters blasting out the charge he led his men stirrup to stirrup in a thundering gallop.

  His Lion Rampant Banner flew in the hands of his standard bearer, Scrymgeour, as the Scots roared ‘A Bruce! A Bruce!’ Seconds later, they galloped out of the smoke and crashed through the English lines causing widespread panic and destruction.

  “’Tis safe to say even a tightly disciplined army would have found it difficult to withstand that charge,” Adlin declared, impressed.

  Everyone agreed wholeheartedly as the demoralized Sassenach deserted their posts and ran for their lives. As history had recorded it, the casualties Bruce’s moss-troopers suffered came from the arrows of the few English archers who stood their ground before being finished off.

  No quarter
was given, and Sassenach casualties were horrendous. At last, only the dead and the victorious Scots remained on the battlefield.

  “’Tis a bloody fine sight,” Grant murmured as he and Adlin remembered all too well the slaughter at Berwick-on-Tweed. It had been the beginning of all this for them, and it did their hearts good to see yet more avengement for all the innocent Scottish lives lost since then. As it was, over seventeen thousand Scots had died that fateful day in Berwick then left by Longshanks to rot.

  Bryce and his kin grinned as they watched Robert the Bruce now.

  This had been one of those days in history Sir William Wallace would have liked to witness. They didn’t doubt Robert thought of him now as he led his horsemen to the edge of Roulston Scar and ordered his trumpeters to sound the Rally.

  Down below in the gully where the Black Douglas and Sir Thomas Randolph still fought, the English and Scots alike turned their heads toward the clamor of trumpets. When they saw Bruce’s host on the escarpment, the Scots roared in triumph and surged forward.

  “Cowards,” Bryce muttered, just as pleased as everyone else as they watched the Sassenach army disperse. Some tried to flee where others surrendered when James Douglas ordered that the Scots give quarter. The Corrie was a difficult place to escape from, and in the end, very few English got away.

  The Earl of Richmond surrendered his sword to James as did his lieutenants. Twenty Sassenach knights lay amid the dead with twice as many wounded. That fine day the Scots ushered their prisoners up the hill, where Sir James Douglas and Sir Thomas Randolph presented their prisoners to the king.

  “All is going as it should on our end,” Graham said into their minds. “We arrived at Rievaulx Abbey in an attempt to capture King Edward.”

  “And King Edward escaped as he should?” Adlin said, disgust in his internal voice.

  “Aye,” Graham reported. “When told of his army’s defeat he was humiliated and ushered from the abbot’s house by a guard of twenty men. As we know, he will now try to take a ship in Bridlington.” Now it was Graham’s turn to sound disgusted. “And just as history told, he left over one hundred of his bodyguards behind to forfeit their lives to buy him time to escape. This, as planned, will delay the Scots sufficiently enough to allow Edward to slip away.”

  “Christina and I stayed behind as the Stewart continues to pursue Edward,” Graham informed. “He travels with fewer men now so ‘twas best we not join him and mayhap disturb history in some unanticipated way.”

  Sir Walter Stewart and fifty men would chase King Edward for many miles, but in the darkness, they would lose him on the road to Nunnington. Along the way, Edward’s horse would become lame, and he’d be forced to seek a fresh mount at Pickering Castle. On the morrow, at that very castle, his grey charger would be presented to King Robert as a prize of war.

  Eventually, Edward would arrive in Bridlington and request the keeper of the castle to provide him with a ship to take him to London.

  “I would’ve loved to see the look on Edward’s face when the keeper escorts him to a lookout tower and points out at the bay,” Christina said, a grin in her voice. “Good ol’ Captain Angus stickin’ it to him yet again!”

  As it turned out, three long galleys belonging to Angus Og sat in the bay waiting, so escaping by sea was impossible. No trading galliot could outrun such impressive ships. So Edward rode to York narrowly escaping capture twice, and lost his shield in the process. Rumor had it the Bruce later returned this shield to Edward as an unspoken challenge. Fight or negotiate peace.

  Edward didn’t rise to the challenge, and this was one of the reasons he was later deposed.

  From York, Edward and his party made their way to the safety of Burstwick in Holderness. After that, they were on to London where they reunited with Queen Isabella. She, no surprise, was not happy about being abandoned by Edward. Left behind and forced to fend for herself, she had made a perilous journey disguised as a Nun to Tynemouth Priory.

  “Queen Isabella barely escaped as well,” Graham commented. “Just as history said.”

  With her and Edward’s departure, the North of England was now wide open for the Scottish army to extract tribute, pillage, and loot at their leisure. King Edward left behind his finery, personal treasury, armor and shamefully enough, the great seal of England.

  “’Twas a mighty rout indeed, my King!” the Black Douglas declared later that evening as they sat around a fire at Robert’s encampment. When he raised a mug of ale in salute, everyone else did as well, roaring their approval.

  As it had been after every battle, the Scots buried their dead, paid their respects and now celebrated a victory far grander than most. Bryce and his kin had decided to spend one last eve with Robert rather than go home just yet. After all, he was the greatest king Scotland had ever known, and once they left, he would once again become part of history.

  So they spent a fine evening with him and caught up on old times. Not just their adventures now but those young Robert had shared with Bryce’s parents, aunts, uncles, Grant and Adlin. The relationship they shared with the king had now spanned over forty years.

  With many a warrior wanting to celebrate alongside him, King Robert eventually wandered off but not before ensuring that they would say goodbye on the morn.

  “Aye, we wouldnae leave without saying goodbye, my friend,” Grant assured.

  After that everyone resumed chatting.

  “She knew, you know,” Jessie said softly to Bryce, reflecting, as it turned out, on what else she had discovered today. “Your sister knew I was a dragon.”

  Sensing her sadness, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. Clearly, she had learned as much when her dragon was returned to her.

  “That’s why Ainsley seemed off on occasion...angry...” Her eyes were damp as they met his. “It wasn’t me she was upset with, but what had been stolen from me.” She pressed her lips together, fighting emotions. “She was with me the first time I shifted.” A tear slipped free. “In fact, she taught me how.”

  Though he felt for Jessie because she had forgotten such a thing, nothing made him happier than to know she hadn't been alone. That his sister was there for her during such a tumultuous time in a dragon’s life. Never mind what Jessie was going through beyond that.

  “She saw when the enemy took my dragon,” she whispered. “But he threatened her and said that if she ever told me, he would end my life.” She shook her head. “Unfortunately, when he died, and she finally had the opportunity to tell me, the curse was unleashed and made it impossible. She was muted so long as the warlocks existed.”

  “Och,” he murmured, saddened for both her and his sister. “That must have been verra frustrating for her.” He wiped away her tear and tilted her chin, so Jessie’s eyes stayed with his. “But I couldnae be more pleased that she was there for you. That she offered you some happiness in all that misery.”

  “Me too.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and offered a wobbly smile. “Though she described what to do in great detail, she never got the chance to teach me how to fly. Too risky.” She released a small chuckle. “It was one thing for people to think they saw a ghostly dragon. Another altogether if they saw a real one.” Her gaze grew nostalgic. “But I would have loved to fly alongside her.”

  “Aye, lass,” he said softly. “As would I have.”

  He peppered several kisses on her lips that turned into a few passionate ones before they finally rejoined the conversation. As Bryce figured it would, everyone’s attention turned Jessie’s way. Though it had been difficult, all had waited for her to relax some before they asked what had been weighing on their minds.

  It seemed, however, she knew what was coming and spoke first, her voice gentle. “I know what happened to Fraser...and I know where he is.”

  Tension lay thick, and all remained silent as she continued. Though they sat in the midst of a boisterous encampment, it seemed all Bryce could hear in those moments was the crackle of the fire and Jessie’s
voice.

  “As Kenna implied and you were beginning to suspect, Fraser did not actually die on the battlefield all those years ago.” Her eyes went from person to person. “Instead, the warlock shifted him through time.”

  “But he was mortally wounded,” Conall denied, a mixture of sadness and anger in his eyes. “I saw it. I was there.”

  “It was the heat of battle, Cousin.” Adlin clasped Conall’s shoulder in reassurance. “Sometimes we dinnae see things correctly when battle lust takes over.” He shook his head. “Most especially when it comes to those we love.”

  “Somehow he survived,” Jessie assured gently. “Because he is still alive.”

  Conall nodded, digesting that as he murmured, “Aye then, lass.” His eyes stayed with hers. “Where is he then? How do we get him back?”

  “Though I can’t speak to where he is at this moment, the warlock shifted him to a small village off the eastern shores of Scotland,” she replied. “The year was fourteen hundred and forty-eight. Now, however, I’m guessing it’s around fourteen hundred and fifty.”

  So over a hundred and twenty years in their future.

  Conall frowned. “So he’s been there two winters?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “So I was right about that pirate ship being from the fifteenth century,” Bryce murmured as his eyes went to hers. “That’s where he is now...” He almost couldn’t say the words they seemed so preposterous for one of his kin. “He’s a pirate, aye?”

  “I would say so,” she replied.

  “’Tis not so bad really.” Adlin offered everyone a comforting smile. “At least he’s still alive.” His brows bunched together as his eyes met Jessie’s. “What I dinnae ken, though, is why we cannae sense him? At the verra least, Grant and I should have been able to.”

  “That’s where things get a little...” It was clear she was looking for the right words. “Things aren’t quite as cut and dry when it comes to Fraser’s abduction. Much like Bryce and I, he suffered repercussions.”

  “Repercussions?” Christina cocked her head. “What does that mean, honey?”