Celtic Blizzard

by Ria Cantrell

  Sinead tried counting the seconds to get an idea of how long she was traveling, but her mind kept wandering to the danger at hand and the danger that awaited her when they reached their destination. She thought of Jamie and how his family had embraced her and tears formed in her eyes. No, she wouldn’t cry. It would make the air that much more close and she needed every fresh breath she could find.

  The minutes ticked by as the ground rose up and down beneath her battered ribs but each second seemed like another eternity. She had no idea if it was still day because the confines of the fabric prevented even the tiniest pinprick of light to pass through its thick weave. She tried to remember the events prior to her being knocked out so maybe she could judge what time it was.

  She thought back to the last thing she remembered. Yes, she was trying to help that old man who had fallen in the snow. Was he the one who had taken her? No! It was all coming back to her in waves. She had tried to retrieve the old man’s staff when she realized someone was standing upon it, impeding her aid. She had only turned for the briefest second and saw a hideous and grotesque sneering figure dressed all in black right before something had crashed down upon her head. It almost seemed like the man had some sort of disfigurement for the monstrous visage she had only briefly seen was terrifying. Sinead felt a horrible chill settle within her. The monster’s ugliness had nothing to do with a deformity. No, it came from pure and unmasked hatred; the kind that had festered within a soul till there was nothing left but unadulterated malice.

  Then, the world had gone as black as the figure who had dealt the blow. She remembered something else that petrified her. It was something that had permeated her senses even in her unconscious state. Sinead had smelled what she could only describe as death with the pungent scent of fresh gore. Someone had died before she was taken and the horror of it had imprinted itself on her even though she had been knocked senseless. Sinead did not want to think too long about who it had been that had been murdered. She prayed it was someone she did not know. Sinead sent out a silent prayer for the person’s soul and she prayed Jamie would come to save her.

  Chapter 38

  Jamie stood as straight as a statue cut from frozen marble. His face was set like stone as the stable boy stammered the news of what he had stumbled upon while walking the mares from the their stalls. The horror of it was still etched on the young man’s face as he relayed the scene in gory detail.

  “T’was Hugh, sir. I knew him for his time working with the horses. Dear Christ preserve us all, sir for he was nearly cleaved in two. Oh, God, the blood…there was so much blood,” the lad moaned as he relived the scene over and over in his mind. At the youth’s telling of his gruesome tale, Jamie’s own blood ran cold. He had already sent someone to find Sinead and no one had seen her since the morning. The young stable boy shifted nervously from one foot to the other, not meeting his eyes and Jamie crouched down so that he would be able to look at him straightly. As he tamped down his rising panic and used his warrior’s instincts to garner as much information as he could before calculating his next move, Jamie said icily, “What else, lad? What have ye’ nay said that is upsetting ye’ more than finding old Hugh?”

  The young boy started to tremble in earnest and as tears trickledd down his face, he blubbered, “Oh sir, ye’ shall flail me alive, fer’ no’ tellin’ ye’.”

  Jamie did not have time or patience to coddle the boy right now. Through clenched teeth he grounded out, “What else!”

  The lad jumped back and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. He sobbed, “The lady…I saw the lady. She went through the gates some time before I walked the horses.”

  “The lady? You mean my lady? Lady Sinead?”

  “Aye, Master Jamie. She runs. I dunna’ know why, but she has done it often since visiting our home. She didna’ know I saw her and t’was nay my place to question her. The first time I saw her, she came back straight away and then the other time, ye’ retrieved her. I dinna’ think anything more of it…but today…now that Hugh has been killed…Oh sir, please dunna’ punish me.”

  “Today she did nay return straight away?”

  The lad shook his head and sobbed harder. “I did nay see her come back.”

  Jamie gripped the boy by his thin shoulders and he shook him without force. The boy raised his tear stained face to the Laird’s son and Jamie said, “Dunna’ speak of this to anyone, do ye’ understand me?”

  The child nodded vigorously, with eyes wide with fear.

  “This is mine.”

  Jamie stood up to his full height. The rage and panic were pushing their way through him and he knew he had to act quickly for it had already been several hours since Sinead took off on her run. He felt it in his heart; she had been taken. She was part of his soul now that they had spoken the Binding and his soul told him she was in grave danger. When he found her, after he assured her safety, he was afraid he would murder her himself; or at the very least take a switch to her so she would not be able to sit for a week.

  Once again Jamie used his soldier mentality to push his warring emotions to a place that would not serve him at the moment. He had to act rapidly for Sinead was in peril. He did not know for sure which man had murdered Hugh and taken Sinead, but he had a pretty good idea who it was. Not only that, Jamie was absolutely positive that Hugh MacCollum had died in treachery. May his soul be cursed for all eternity to the pits of hell! His just rewards were quick in being served as far as Jamie was concerned.

  Jamie had to find his brothers and he needed to tell his father, too, but he wanted no other person involved in this until Sinead was safely back in his arms. As luck would have it, his brother, the Highland Wolf himself, was heading out of the keep into the castle yard, looking as grim as Jamie now felt. He hated to burden Ruiri’s already heavy soul with his own troubles, but Jamie knew that even as the youngest of his brothers, Ruiri was the one who would best aid him.

  Seeing the look on his brother’s face, Ruiri said, “What is it? Something is amiss.”

  “Come inside so that we may speak in private for I dunna’ know who we can trust and there are many ears lying in wait of a good piece of gossip.”

  Ruiri knew immediately something dire had befallen MacCollum and it was only when they were locked in council with his father that the actual horror of what had transpired was revealed. Ruiri felt the familiar thirst for vengeance welling inside of him when he heard that Jamie’s woman had been taken. Since the death of his beloved Caitlyn, Ruiri had become an avenging angel of sorts. He was known far and wide for his bloodlust and he had been given the name of the Highland Wolf; a name he did not prize, but accepted as part of his lot in life now. Most times he sought to even the score with those cursed Campbells, but this fight was going to be with another and Ruiri was ready to rise to the challenge.

  Caleb MacCollum listened carefully and he said, “Take only a handful of men and try to track whoever has taken our precious new jewel. I will order the gates closed until all visitors have been questioned. No one shall leave or gain entry. As for Hugh, I will deal with his remains. I knew not to trust him. He is at the bottom of this, I am almost sure of it.”

  “Da’, I am certain t’was the MacKenzie. Who else would want to take Sinead? Sinead’s purpose was to prevent the MacKenzie from snuffing me out. T’is my fight then.”

  Caleb pondered his son’s words and said, “Aye, could be the MacKenzie, but it could be Campbell or for that matter MacDougal. Perhaps they have received word that we have one of their own here and thought to retaliate.”

  “Da’, Sinead is not part of MacDougal. They would have no cause to seek retribution.”

  “By right of her name alone, son, she is theirs, no matter what century she was born to.”

  Jamie paced wildly and said, “Nay, nay. T’was the MacKenzie. I just know it. I feel it. I know, da’. I know. It is a feeling deep in the roots of my soul.”

  Caleb raised thoughtful eyes to his son. “I thought as much. Ye’ are Bound, th
en?”

  Jamie swallowed and nodded silently. Caleb was not surprised. He knew that it would only take the right woman to change his son’s perspective on marriage.

  Ruiri looked at his brother and despite the chill of danger for his new sister, his mouth lifted slightly at that news. He, himself had not taken the Binding with Caitlyn and he regretted it still, but what was done could not be undone. It mattered not to him, for he felt his soul died the day she did, anyway. He did not need the Binding to prove it, but his brother had done what he never could and he knew they had to work all the harder to bring Sinead home safely.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘⌘

  After what seemed like so many eternities, the horse began to slow. Sinead tried to still her heart from pounding against her bruised ribs. Fear welled like a fresh fed spring inside her and she felt her breathing become shallow and frantic. As the horse came to a full stop, she felt herself being jerked roughly from the back of the beast. She was suddenly thankful for the rough cloth that had been bundled around her, for her captor tossed her like a sack of garbage to the ground below and she landed with a thud upon the cold hard packed earth. Instantly the freezing cold permeated the little covering she had around her as the sweat from fear dried frigid on her icy flesh. Oh God, what was going to happen to her? Sinead willed herself to not shiver, lest she give her state away as she still tried to feign unconsciousness.

  Her captor pulled the covering from around her, spinning her out of the rolled bonds like a top and he prodded her with the toe of his boot.

  “Up, whore! I know ye’ are awake.”

  Sinead forced herself not to react to his words. She would have her chance if she did not give in to her emotions at his verbal assault. She needed to try to remain as calm as she could and not get caught up in dangerous emotions that would thwart logical thinking.

  She lay still until she felt him kick her harder and she could not repress the cry from the pain. She already felt like her ribs could be broken from the ride and now the tip of his boot felt as if it was leaded.

  “I will nay tell ye’ again. Get up.”

  Sinead tried to stand, but her legs felt boneless. She pushed herself onto her knees but soon felt the animal tear the hem of her dress. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to try to rape her and she pushed at him with all her might. In an instant she felt a knife blade pricking under her chin as the kidnapper crouched down to her, leering into her face with a hideous snarl.

  “Dunna’ think to fight me. I dunna’ care if ye’ live or die. Ye’ are just a pawn for a greater reward.”

  Sinead scuttled backwards, scrambling on the frozen ground and trying to get her legs to cooperate, but it was no use. She was numbed from the cold and the ride had deadened her legs so that they were prickling with pins and needles. She looked around in horror and saw that it was already getting dark and there was virtually nothing around that could mark where she was. As she heard the tearing sound of her gown again, she saw that the man had torn a strip of fabric from the hem and before she could do another thing, he pulled her arms behind her and tightly bound her hands. He then wrenched her arms so harshly, Sinead thought perhaps they had been ripped out of the sockets and pain seared into her shoulder blades from the force of it.

  He dragged her along and he said, “Hurry up. There is a storm brewing and I will nay be caught in it because of yer’ tarry.”

  Sinead at first thought they were in the middle of nowhere, but as she looked around, she saw that there was a large stone edifice looming like a shadow in the gloom. The air had grown heavy with a frosty mist and she realized that it was going to snow again and because of the dense fog surrounding them, she had missed that they had arrived at an ominous looking fort.

  Finally she spoke, “Where are you taking me?”

  Dubh MacKenzie bowed in mockery and said, “Ye’ are the guest of the MacKenzie, your highness.”

  He laughed with sinister hatred and he pulled her arms again. No one seemed to question that the man was dragging a bound woman into the holding as a groom came to claim the lathered horse. Sinead felt her feet slide in the slush as she was being dragged into the blackened walls of the keep. So it was the MacKenzie after all!

  As they passed into the main hall, Sinead was horrified at the demise of the place. Compared to Castle MacCollum, the MacKenzie stronghold was like a moldering hovel with crumbling mortar. The walls were soot-stained from fat soaked torches that smoked and sputtered and offered little light among the dark interior of the place. There were servants, but none of them showed any sign of contentment and many walked as if they were zombies; beaten and demoralized into submission that even a girl being dragged bound and unwilling into their midst could not move them to aid her.

  There were stale rushes strewn upon the floor under tables dark with filth and the smell of rotting spoils of past meals was like that of putrefying decay. Sinead felt the gorge rising again in her throat and she thought that even if she finally purged her stomach, it would not matter because of the state of the hall. Even in the dim light of the smoke-filled room, Sinead saw rats scurrying beneath the rushes and the distinct squeaks could be heard as they ran freely under the tables and benches.

  Sinead found her courage and she said, “Why did you kidnap me? The MacCollums will see you are punished for such a thing.”

  She immediately regretted her words when the monster wheeled on her, hatred dripping from his black, colorless irises and he said, “Good. I can hardly wait. They will be welcomed as will yer’ precious MacDougals.”

  “How d-do you know who I am?”

  Her captor laughed again and the sound was that of a maniac.

  “Ye’ are quite the oddity at MacCollum. Why, the gossip was easily learned by those coddled servants there. It is not every day that a woman from a rival clan ends up in the bed of the laird’s son. Yer’ escapades were fodder for many wagging tongues, harlot.”

  “I am no such thing. I am Jamie MacCollum’s wife.” Stop talking, you fool. He will use these things against you and against Jamie. Sinead heard the voice in her head scolding her, but it was too late. Those words seemed to anger the man all the more. “Wife indeed,” he spat. “Everyone knows ye’ are his whore. Yer’ wedding was just a façade to stop the gossip against him. And I do believe I managed to free ye’ from the sham only a day or so before ye’ spoke yer’ false troth.”

  Sinead would not say that Jamie and she had taken the Binding rite only two nights ago. It was better to leave that information out of the situation for the moment.

  “Now then, what shall I do with ye’ until Jamie comes to claim ye’? Hmm, what indeed! Perhaps, ye’ shall warm my bed, too this cold winter night.”

  Sinead stood straighter at that horrible threat and she mustered all the courage she could. Looking the Mackenzie directly in his viperish eyes, she said, “I would rather die than let you touch me.”

  Dubh MacKenzie grabbed her jaw and squeezed painfully. His black-gloved fingers dug into the ridge of her teeth and he said, “That can be arranged, mistress. Dunna’ think to tempt me, for I care not if ye’ live or die.”

  When he let go of her she spat into his face. His hand swift and punishing, slapped her hard, sending her sprawling into the filth at her feet. He yanked her up again by her bound hands and he said nothing else to her. Instead, he called, “Guard, take our guest to the tower and see she is locked in safe and sound.”

  A large man also dressed in black took hold of her arm and muscled her up steep crumbling steps that spiraled to a dizzying height. Sinead had to keep pace with the stride of the man to avoid tumbling down the stones and when they reached the top, he took a key from a ring that dangled from a belt at his waist. Shoving it into a rusted iron lock, Sinead heard the distinct sound of a latch opening and the man thrust her inside. She almost fell again, but she got her footing and said, “Wait. Please, at least untie me.”

  The silent man looked about and turned as if he was going to leave her,
but then seemed to have a change of heart. He pulled a dagger from his boot and sliced the binding fabric around her wrists. He then dragged the door behind him and locked her in. Sinead pushed herself against the door but it was no use. It would not budge and she knew it before she had even tried.

  She screamed, “Let me out!” That, too, was futile. There wasn’t anyone who would help her. She knew that. She sagged against the door and wept until she exhausted herself. When she had cried her fill, she looked around the room and realized that the sun would soon be gone in a matter of moments and the small shaft of light that came from a lone window set high in the wall was rapidly dimming. If she did not think quickly, she would be plunged into darkness. There was a small pallet off to the side of the turret and beside it was an oddly placed desk. It looked like it had not been used in a very long time, but Sinead thought perhaps whoever had been in this terrible place before may have left something for the next person to use. She quickly rummaged through the drawer and found a leather bound bunch of parchment.

  There was also an old quill, nearly devoid of feathers, but useful, just the same. Ink, she would need ink! She reached her hand back toward the end of the drawer and she touched a cool vial. As Sinead brought it forward, she saw it was indeed an old inkwell cut out of stone. She set it upon the desk and she felt for the other contents within it. She found an odd piece of bent metal with a bit of flint secured to it with an old dry leather thong. She clicked it and realized it made a small spark. She scanned the rest of the room and saw a lone torch, blackened and dried mounted in an iron sconce on the wall. Sinead did not know if it would light, and she was pretty sure she did not want to fill the room with smoke if it did, but the thought of being in complete darkness in the dank chamber was more daunting.