Highland Vengeance (The Celtic Blood Series Book 3)

by Melanie Karsak

  That news stirred up some talk, and some grumbling, in the room.

  Banquo rose. “My lords, I am well known to some of you and not at all to others. But I assure you, we are ready to ride south. Each day our army expands. We have the men we need. We are a mighty force, and we shall roll over Duncan’s army like a wave.”

  “That’s all well and good, but we cannot forget, Thane, that you rode with Macbeth when the former Lord of Moray was displaced,” a young man called from the back. I eyed his tartan. He was the eldest son of the Lord of Mar and would take his father’s place when the old lord passed away.

  “My lords, the Thane of Lochaber can be trusted.” I knew there was a rumor about Banquo and me, and in this moment, I hoped it actually served me. But aside from that, the swirling druid’s designs on Banquo’s arms and on his brow spoke of his true allegiance. “The Thane is loyal to this land, and to the gods.”

  “And to the future Mormaer of Moray,” Banquo added. “My friends, I did not know your mormaer well, and I was not there when he was…defeated. But Lady Gruoch speaks well of Gillacoemgain. I met him once, and he was an honorable man. I am sorry I did not know him better. I am here to ensure Lord Lulach can claim his father’s birthright—and beyond,” Banquo said. While Banquo didn’t say he had chosen the wrong side, he honored Gillacoemgain with his words. And more, he planted a seed in their minds that many had not yet considered. If Duncan was defeated, Gillacoemgain’s son might one day be king.

  The men eyed Banquo and me then spoke amongst themselves.

  “Lady Gruoch,” an elder clan leader called from the back. His grown son stood at his side. The man was rail thin with wispy white hair. He had one mooneye. “Many of us remember the day you stood in this hall and wailed like a banshee. Everyone knows you saw Gillacoemgain’s doom. Will you tell us, lady, what you see now? What should we do?”

  At this, the room grew still and quiet.

  Banquo, who had not heard the tale, looked at me.

  I touched the amulet on my neck. “We will ride south. And we will win.”

  And be avenged! And be avenged!

  At that, the men nodded in assent.

  “My lords, if you have not yet called your men to Cawdor, please send riders at once. We will need everyone’s help in protecting the north, protecting your homes and families. Lady Gruoch’s men are ready to assist you, as am I. Together, we shall defeat King Duncan,” Banquo called.

  This earned him cheers. The matter settled, the men dispersed from the hall.

  Banquo paused and looked at me. “What was he talking about?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to remember. “A vision. I saw Gillacoemgain perish. I saw the fire that took him.”

  Banquo exhaled sadly. “I am sorry. I was not there when it happened, but I heard.”

  I stared at Banquo. “Who gave that order?”

  “Order?”

  “To kill Gillacoemgain. To set that fire?”

  Banquo looked away.

  “Banquo?”

  “It was Macbeth.”

  My hands began to shake violently, and the sound of raven’s wings beat in my ears. I swallowed hard and mastered myself. I nodded.

  Banquo eyed the door. “I must go. Thank you for your help. I don’t blame them for not trusting me. At times, I don’t trust my own judgment in regard to Macbeth. I think we are both deceived.”

  I stared at Banquo. “What should we do?”

  He shook his head. “The wheels are in motion now. It is too late to do anything.”

  He was right. I inclined my head to him.

  “I need to go. I’ll find you soon,” he said.

  “Very well.”

  Banquo turned and left the hall.

  After he had gone, I went back upstairs to my chamber. I opened the trunk where I’d stored all the fancy dresses Madelaine had sent to me, feeling a bit abashed when I realized I hadn’t worn most of them. Setting them aside, I dug into the bottom of the chest where I found Gillacoemgain’s old armor. I placed the pieces on the bed, determining what would fit. He’d been so much taller than me, so much larger. I picked up his leather jerkin and inhaled deeply. I caught the scent of the material, but just under that lingered Gillacoemgain’s smell, a faint perfume of cedar and lavender that had almost faded.

  I closed my eyes.

  I would protect what was Lulach’s.

  And at last, I would have my vengeance.

  Chapter 48

  Two days later, Banquo began rallying the army to ride south. We would leave just before dawn. A late spring snow blew in, covering the ground with white powder. The weather was strange that day, thunder rocking the clouds. It was as if the sky itself was at war.

  The Lord of Mar, playing the friend, rode south to welcome the king. Mar’s army, led by his elder son, waited alongside my own men and that of the north. If Mar’s deception was revealed too soon, his life would be in grave danger. I worried about the man who had once been so kind to me, the man who had remembered my father and my mother, who’d told the tale of Emer and her harp. I prayed to the goddess to keep him safe.

  Alone in my chamber, I stood before the fire. I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, feeling for Lulach. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not find my son. Wherever Balor had taken Lulach, he had taken him somewhere very deep. I suspected that I would have better luck reaching him if I returned to Ynes Verleath.

  The sounds of men and horses rose from outside. It was almost time to go. I closed myself off from the noise and inhaled slowly and deeply. I found the silence and the darkness within.

  And then, I called: Come.

  I am already here. We are one.

  The sound of wings filled my senses. Once again, the raven and I melded into one. I lifted my arms, feeling her and me all at once. I was a Valkyrie. I was an avenger.

  Pulling Scáthach from my belt, I grabbed my long black braid.

  For the Morrigu. For Scotia. For victory.

  With a quick flick of the blade, I cut my hair at the nape of my neck. I threw my long locks into the fire.

  Thora, who had been lingering around me all day, her tiny brood having now found new owners amongst the soldiers, whimpered.

  “I suppose you want to come.”

  Thora thumped her tail.

  “It is war. It will be dangerous. You are not yet recovered from weaning, and in truth, you’re not as young as you once were. Stay at Cawdor. Keep the castle safe.”

  Thora looked at me as if I had just said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Only my dog would dare judge the raven.

  “Very well. Then you will need to stay beside me and help me fight.”

  She yipped a small bark.

  I turned then and dressed, pulling on a pair of man’s breeches, a stiff leather jerkin, and Gillacoemgain’s chainmail shirt. I fingered my short hair and then pulled on Gillacoemgain’s helmet. I looked out with my raven eyes. Little by little, I could feel that Gruoch was retreating. I was Cerridwen, the raven. Everything around me was brighter than it had been before. I was able to hear far more clearly than I had before. I belted Uald’s Gift then slid Scáthach into her scabbard.

  I looked at Thora. “Let’s go.” I went to the door. I had already opened the latch, but then I paused. I went back into the room and dug deep into my trunk. There, at the very bottom, I found a small wooden box. Gruoch’s hands wanted to tremble as I removed the lid, but the raven would not allow it. Inside, I found a worn coin pouch stained with blood. The coins within jingled, the small fee my cousin had paid me for the complete alteration of my life. I closed my eyes, remembering Lulach and Crearwy as tiny babies, and the pain I felt having left my daughter behind. I slid the pouch into my pocket and then went to join the awaiting army outside.

  * * *

  Working my way through the scores of men in heavy armor milling about, I went to the stable. Thora followed a discreet distance behind me. I quickly saddled Kelpie, hoping Standish would not spy
me, then rode out of Cawdor to join the army of men that had collected around the castle.

  The men were falling quickly into ranks. I worked my way through the soldiers, positioning myself near one of the lesser lords of Moray. As the sun began to rise, Banquo came forward and began to rally the army.

  “My friends, the Lord of Mar has gone forward to greet the king. The Earl of Northumbria and his army follow a league behind King Duncan. When we attack, the king will retreat to join the earl’s army. Duncan does not believe we have had time to prepare. He will not expect our army. And yet, even when he does see us, he will believe he has the better of us.

  “He does not.”

  “When we engage the king’s army, the men of Lothian and Fife, loyal to Lady Madelaine, will turn on Duncan and join us. Know they are your allies.

  “I will ride with a small group of men to rescue the Lord of Mar, who will be amongst the king’s people. The rest of you men stay under the direction of your lords,” Banquo said then paused. Torchlight illuminated him. How handsome he looked in his armor, the flames reflecting on him. My vision doubled, and I saw Banquo and Prasutagus together. My once and future husband.

  “The king has sent a large portion of his army by ship with the intention of making port at Aberdeen. They seek to surprise us, crushing us from both a frontal assault and a surprise wedge from the east. Lord Macbeth has gone with heavy ships against the king’s armada. Echmarcach of the Isles has joined forces with Thorfinn the Mighty to ensure the safety of Orkney. My friends, the king’s plan is as weak as its creator. We have seen through all of his schemes and have moved to counter them. There can only be one result, a result long coming, to this war: King Duncan will be no more, and King Macbeth will sit on the Stone of Scone!”

  The men roared. The sound rose up into the night and to the ears of the Morrigu. This song belonged to her.

  “Come, men. Let’s ride,” Banquo yelled, and then the lords turned around and began barking orders.

  The army began to advance.

  We swarmed across the land that was familiar to me. But looking out from underneath Gillacoemgain’s helmet, the nature of the land around me changed. I saw visions. At first, I was confused. Then the Morrigu whispered a truth to me: some lands bleed more than others. Riding beside me were phantom beings, armies from the past. First, I saw the men of Ynes Verleath marching across the land. I watched the phantoms battle, the men of Ynes Verleath against the armies of Dal Riata, Pict against Northman, Celt against Roman. I heard swords crashing together and the grunts of men—and women. I smelled blood.

  Then one face stood out. I saw my kin, Kenneth MacAlpin, whose looks reminded me of my father. It was Kenneth who’d finally brought the north under control. It was he who united Pictland with the old Kingdom of Dal Riata and created Scotland. Scotia remembered this union. The Morrigu remembered this bloodshed. The Crone remembered these deaths.

  My vision was interrupted by my commander’s call to halt. The phantom images dissipated like puffs of smoke. I suddenly became conscious of the passage of time. Lost to the raven’s visions, I realized we’d been riding south far longer than I’d realized.

  The men began to stir excitedly. Everywhere I looked, men adjusted their weapons. This was what I had been missing all those times when Macbeth and Banquo had gone into battle. This was the truth of war. It was glorious.

  I watched as Banquo rode the length of the army to ensure that all was in order. As he neared, I unsheathed Uald’s Gift and lifted it into the air. It glimmered in the firelight. He slowed, lifted his hand to salute me, and then moved on. I sheathed my sword and smiled down at Thora.

  “You keep out from under the horses’ feet when they start charging. Some of these horses have been trained to kick. I don’t know how long I’ll be on horse, but try to stay nearby. If you lose me, look for Banquo. If something happens to me, get Banquo.”

  Thora wagged her tail.

  It was not long after that when Banquo moved us forward. The lords began to ride more aggressively, and the men around me began to unsheathe their weapons. I lifted my shield and took out Uald’s Gift. We rode over a small crest. Duncan’s army sat on the other side.

  They were on lower land than us, their army only a fraction of the size of our own. Their scouts would certainly have informed Duncan we were coming. As I looked across the field, I saw that the army stood at ready.

  Banquo lifted his hand in the air. The lords turned around on their horses and lifted their swords. The men began to scream, cackle, and yell. I joined my voice with theirs. Banquo pointed his sword forward and screamed, “Now!”

  I had one moment of clarity when I watched Banquo and a group of men break off—they would go for the Lord of Mar—then I was pushed forward on the wave.

  Duncan’s army rushed forward to engage our own. My eyes focused as I reined Kelpie to move quickly across the field. I sought out Duncan only to realize he was not amongst these men. Where was he?

  When we rode into the army of men advancing upon us, it was like we had hit a massive wall of steel. We came to a stop, and, looking over the attire of the men we battled, I realized we were fighting Irish mercenaries. The men of Fife turned around and joined us, but my attention was lost when a man twice my size came at me in an attempt to pull me off my horse.

  His battle-ax slammed forcefully into my shield, making Kelpie shy sideways. Furious, I struck out with Uald’s Gift. As the blade swung, it had a silvery sound that made the air shiver. I sliced the man’s head from his neck. His face held a moment of awe and fear, and then his body fell to the ground. Seconds later, another man was upon me.

  As soon as one man was defeated, another stepped into his place. I rode forward hunting Duncan. Duncan, Lulach’s father, the man who had pushed me to the ground and had changed my life in a moment of sheer pleasure, where was he? His action had forced me to birth a daughter whose face I rarely saw. Duncan, the waster, the taker, the user. As I fixed my mind on this purpose, something strange happened. The men who had lined up to meet their death turned and ran away. All of them.

  “Give chase, give chase,” the lords called.

  And be mindful, I thought to myself, that you chase a small army of bought men into a substantial army of Englishmen who had come to fight Scots, as Englishmen were apt to do. As we rode, I spotted Banquo and a small group of men, including the elder Lord of Mar, rejoin the army. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  We gave chase. Below me, Kelpie began to lather as I sped across the field, Thora racing to keep pace. After a hard ride, the Earl Siward’s army, with the earl and the king at the front, came into view. The lords barked at us to move back into ranks.

  “Make ready,” the clan chieftain, MacDougall, called.

  The men across the field lifted up their voices then charged.

  I moved forward with one goal, to kill the man in the golden armor. MacDougall led his men into a flanking maneuver, but that stratagem led me away from Duncan. I left them and raced across the field to join Banquo. He and a small band of soldiers rode directly toward the king.

  Once the advance began, however, Duncan, the pompous coward, whirled his horse around and retreated to the back of the army.

  “Damn him,” I cursed.

  When we met the Earl of Northumbria’s men, it quickly became evident that we weren’t fighting Irish mercenaries anymore. These were well-trained English soldiers. Though I was part of the cavalry, the men I fought against were on foot. Those men had one goal: remove the cavalry from horseback.

  One well-armed man after another advanced on me. My position of height made it easy for me to take these men’s lives. The raven within me shrieked with pleasure as each man fell. But the men around me, seeing their comrades die, became more desperate to get me off my horse. In a desperate maneuver to unseat me, they began to beat at Kelpie. He was a strong horse, but he was also well beyond his prime. I could feel the anxiety rising within him as he whinnied and kicked. Thora snapped and bit, tr
ying to defend Kelpie as best she could. My concentration on my goal waned as I fought more for my horse than for my vengeance. One man came forward swinging a massive claymore. He had seen the other men try to dislodge me and fail. From the gleam in his eyes, I understood his intention. He was going to cut Kelpie down.

  Kelpie felt it too. He began to back up as the man came toward him. I jumped from the saddle.

  “Go! I won’t sacrifice your life. Go!” I said, slapping Kelpie on the backside.

  Kelpie whinnied then took off. My dismount surprised my opponent. It threw him off guard. I took my chance. Moving fast, I spun my sword then ran him through. His claymore dropped from his fingers. When I pulled my sword out of his gut, his still-warm blood sprayed all over my pants. I sneered at him then turned and raced in search of Duncan.

  The king was far afield, and the battle of men taking place around me was heavy. Dodging one assailant after the other, I pushed my way through. A young man wearing the colors of Moray was being beaten down by a Northumbrian soldier. I shoved Uald’s Gift through the Northumbrian man’s back, saving the Moray man’s life.

  But then the boy’s eyes grew wide. “Look out,” he called, staring behind me.

  I spun and dodged left, but felt the sting of a blade as it sliced my arm. I stared into the face of yet another English soldier. I snatched Scáthach from my belt and stabbed the man in the neck.

  The soldier fell.

  Offering my good arm, I helped the Moray man up.

  “Thank you, sir,” he told me.

  “Of course,” I said, but the man held on to me.

  “Purple eyes,” he whispered.

  I winked then turned and headed off once more.

  Weaving around the fighting pairs, I soon had Duncan in sight. Foot soldiers skirmished between him and me, but at last, he was close. Five strong guards stood in a circle around him, one of which I recognized. MacDuff, the man with the badger symbol, guarded his king. My mind flashed back to that stormy night and the mud and the rain. Macduff had held the arrow on me, forcing me to choose between death and rape.