Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3)

by Heather McCollum

  Kat nodded.

  Toren pulled her clenched fist apart finger by finger and pushed the hilt of his dagger into her palm. “She’s bound. Use this.”

  Kat gripped the dagger and nodded again. She pulled away and took a deep, centering breath. The buzz of magic hummed as she concentrated on the water molecules infusing her body. And she turned.

  Eadan inhaled quickly, eyes wide and searching.

  A gust of wind whipped at Kat’s hair which she tucked in the back of the linen shirt. “You might want to explain the plan…and me, to your brother,” Kat whispered and crept through the bushes. She attempted not to touch anything that would give her away, but it was difficult with so many leaves and branches to snake around. Luckily the wind continued to rise, shaking the trees in a natural dance that she could mimic with her movements.

  The first thing Kat noticed when she walked into the clearing was the smell. Her twenty-first-century American nose wrinkled in offence at the dirty man sweat and horse manure aromas assaulting it. She thanked the heavens for the wind that whipped this way and that, scattering the stench. Kat walked up to a horse who nickered and sidled away. Animals could sense her even if they couldn’t see her. Kat smiled slyly. My diversion.

  The horses stood tethered. Kat tested the blade along the leather straps that dangled down from one horse. The blade sliced through easily and the horse shied to the side, pushing the next horse over and so on like dominoes. Kat walked before the horses, slicing through any hanging strap she saw. Meanwhile, her invisible movements among the beasts began to unsettle them. One of the men walked over, hands out in a calming gesture.

  “What’s spooking ye?” he asked, patting one mare’s forelock. “Be there fairies about?” He spat on the ground and farted loudly. Kat moved swiftly toward the sword that the man had been cleaning. She slid it along the ground until it lay hidden in the bushes. It would help their cause if she could hide and cut as many things as she could before racing off with Brianag. Kat darted around the camp pulling swords and satchels away from the camp out into the bushes and slicing bags of oats and leather straps. The wind increased and dark clouds moved overhead. The weather was a diversion in itself. With all the swaying of trees and branches and dust blowing around the camp, no one noticed her invisible sabotage.

  “Men, we ride,” Fergus Campbell yelled above the roar of whipping leaves. Holy Mother! Fergus turned towards Brianag. Kat ran to intercept him, one long leg sliding across his path. He tripped over it and fell forward. Kat leapt up and ran for the already spooked horses, waving her hands overhead. The front horse reared up, its hooves churning in the air as it backed into the horses behind it. They all started screeching and stomping their legs forward. Kat rushed again and even swatted a few of the calmer looking ones. The horses jostled against their severed ties and burst apart, running frantically in all different directions. Kat turned and jumped to the side as nearly every Campbell ran toward a horse and into the woods.

  Kat ran to the other side of the camp where Brianag sat watching the scene, her hair flying about in wild disarray. Kat came up behind her, her voice near the captive’s ear.

  “Brianag, it’s me, Kat.” Brianag turned in the direction of Kat’s voice.

  “Where are ye?”

  “I’m here, just…camouflaged.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t move. I’m cutting you loose.”

  “Take me away from here,” Brianag choked and stood gingerly as the bindings fell away. “Tor?”

  “He and Eadan wait in the woods for us.”

  “Fergus Campbell will kill them,” she said.

  “Not if they don’t see them.” Brianag turned toward Kat, her eyes sliding over the empty space where Kat stood.

  “Where are ye?” Brianag asked, her eyes widening.

  Kat reached out to touch her. As soon as she made contact, Kat allowed her invisible shield to coat Brianag which made her visible only to the frightened woman. Brianag gasped and tried to take a step back, but Kat held tight.

  “How…how is it that ye appear?”

  Kat shook her head. “There’s no time,” she said glancing around. “It’s part of my gift, to hide, a gift from God,” she said and led Brianag slowly through the camp. The Campbell men ran about the clearing after horses. Several had realized their swords were missing. Even with the foul weather and general chaos, eventually the men would notice their captive had disappeared.

  “You must keep in contact with me.” Kat pulled Brianag’s hand. “Let’s move. They can’t see you now.” Kat put her hand before her eyes to block some of the flying dust.

  Brianag took a slow step. “They do not see me?”

  “No, not as long as we stay connected,” Kat said above the rush of wind that yanked her hair free of its confinement. It flew around to mix with Brianag’s hair in a whirlwind of dark and auburn curls. Kat jumped against Brianag to avoid Fergus Campbell. He ran to the tree, picking up the frayed ends of the ropes.

  “She’s escaped!” he roared. Dark clouds subdued the sunlight slanting down into the clearing. A bad rain storm approached. Strangely, Kat didn’t smell or sense the familiar fresh heaviness of rain.

  “Keep moving,” Kat ordered as she awkwardly danced Brianag through the pandemonium. They dodged two men running with swords without breaking apart. They jumped together over a dead branch that fell to the ground. They stood to catch their breaths for a moment in the cooling fire pit. Which way was the fastest and least obstructed route to Toren?

  “Brianag, this way. We’ll run!” Kat yelled above a crack of thunder a second after lightning zapped across the sky. “On three!” Kat saw Toren and Eadan crouched through the trees on the far side, ready for them. Toren’s eyes met hers. They beckoned her, almost begging for her to come to him. “I’m coming,” she whispered to him. “One,” Kat called out loud.

  “One,” Brianag repeated.

  “Two,” Kat said.

  “Two,” Brianag repeated and grabbed a handful of torn petticoats in her hand.

  “Three,” Kat said and took a huge step.

  “Stop!” Drakkina’s voice shook through Kat. “Stop, Katell! Uncloak yourself! Stop using magic! Now or you’ll die!” Drakkina’s ethereal body floated above them.

  “Three,” Brianag repeated and tried to step after Kat but ended up bumping into her instead. “Aren’t we to run now?”

  “The storm is not natural. It’s the demons. They’ve followed your magic,” Drakkina said.

  “But I don’t have the necklace,” Kat yelled back.

  “What necklace?” Brianag asked bewildered.

  “They’ve tracked the deep magic of the necklace to this year, but when they arrived they could feel you when you used your magic.” Drakkina stared down at Kat, “and they prefer you.” Drakkina’s words blasted cold fear through Kat’s body. “Uncloak now and I’ll draw them away with my magic. They’ll think I’m you.”

  “I can’t!” Kat yelled, surveying the Campbell warriors finding their swords. Surprise and embarrassment blended together to increase their fury as they dove into the brush in search of their captive. Any moment now they would find Toren and Eadan. “I can’t!”

  “You must!” Drakkina yelled back, her usual smooth visage pinched with frantic appeal. “Or they’ll take you.”

  “Look around me! They,” she said, pointing to the large men roaming around them, “they will take me if I uncloak!”

  “With your magic and the dragonfly, the demons will take the world!”

  Kat closed her eyes. What could she do? They were dead either way.

  “What are ye doing, Kat?” Brianag asked, pulling on Kat’s arm. “Who are ye talking to?” she said looking up nervously at the whipping trees. “I see Tor. He’s motioning for us to come.”

  Kat opened her eyes and looked into Brianag’s wild ones. “I’m so sorry,” she said and uncloaked them. “Circumstances have changed.”

  Chapter 7

  Toren�
�s blood pumped where he crouched in the thick, barely budding bushes, Eadan beside him. He watched Kat pull his bewildered sister through the mayhem. “Faster,” he grumbled through gritted teeth and glanced up at the thrashing trees. The storm, it didn’t seem natural, like the one back in Kat’s century. The hairs on the back of Toren’s neck stood erect.

  “Brianag just disappeared,” Eadan whispered from his crouched position next to Toren. “Like yer lady.” His brother dragged his gaze away from the clearing to stare at Toren’s profile. “She is a witch?”

  Toren glanced at him but kept his attention on the two women standing in the fire pit. He motioned to them to come quickly. “Like Mother, Eadan, she has a gift.”

  “Mother did not have that much of a gift,” Eadan said, stressing the last word. “Is she on the side of God, brother?”

  Toren’s eyes fastened on Kat. Terror flitted across her face as she stared at the air before her. Her lips moved but she was too far away for him to hear her words. Brianag pulled but Kat grabbed her arm. Fear and regret lay heavy on Kat’s features. His palm itched to wield his sword, to bury a dagger into Kat’s foe. What frightened her? Toren’s instincts whipped him around in time to slice through the Campbell who crept up behind them.

  “Och!” Eadan yelled and stood. “Tor! Look!”

  Toren pulled his blade free and turned back to the chaos in the clearing. Kat and Brianag walked toward them, clasped in each other’s arms. “What? Where?” Toren yelled as his eyes scanned the bushes around them for more Campbells.

  “Brianag, Lady Kat…they just”—Eadan whipped his hand back and forth through the air—“just reappeared.”

  “Ye can see them?” Toren jumped out of the bushes into a run. “Then so can the Campbells.”

  Toren and Eadan made it to Kat and Brianag at the same time as Fergus Campbell.

  Brianag screamed as blade clashed against blade next to them. Kat grabbed Brianag against her side.

  “Run!” Toren yelled and Kat propelled Brianag to the side away from Toren and Fergus, but three other Campbells ran to their chief’s aid, blocking the women.

  “We can’t!” Kat yelled back.

  “To my back!” Toren ordered and Kat yanked Brianag behind Toren’s back. Eadan, who had been fighting two Campbells, moved in front of the women so that he and Eadan sandwiched them. Slash! Clang! Slice and lunge. Toren fought from where he guarded Kat and Brianag. Eadan did the same. Long minutes passed until Fergus stepped back, sweat running down his grimy brow. He held his sword ready but wiped his other arm across his forehead.

  “Ye can not win, MacCallum,” he sneered and motioned to another Campbell to take his place while he rested.

  Toren raised his sword to deflect the blow from a fresh arm.

  “I will keep sending in replacements until you fall down in exhausted defeat.” He laughed. The wind whipped around him, swirling dirt and leaves. “Then I’ll slaughter ye before yer ladies.” Fergus leaned over and glanced at Eadan who also fought a fresh Campbell. “Oh and also yer brother there. Then I’ll force yer sister to marry me and I’ll be the new master of MacCallum land.” He stood up and grabbed his sword, ready to jump back in.

  Toren funneled the rage that surged inside him into his sword arm. He was well trained and seasoned, but could he outlast thirty men? Perhaps his earlier words would ring true. Perhaps in one fell swoop, the MacCallums would perish today.

  “Nay,” he said and brought his sword down low in an arch. Fergus jumped back but not before the tip of Toren’s blade cut through Fergus’s leather tunic and shirt, baring the man’s stomach. A thin line of blood cut across the white skin.

  “Bloody shite!” Fergus cursed and glanced down at his middle. A distracted second, Toren would take it.

  Toren lunged forward his sword plummeting down. Fergus unfortunately used his instincts too and turned. Toren’s sword sliced into Fergus’s arm. Not a mortal wound, but damaging.

  Fergus dropped his sword and jumped backwards holding his bleeding upper arm. Toren moved forward but two Campbells blocked his advancement. “Finish them!” Fergus spat out as he tied a strap around the useless arm.

  “Kat,” Toren said and felt her against his back. “Ye cannot cloak us?”

  “No, the demons—if they get me, they could destroy the world.”

  “The storm,” he answered noticing now that the storm had vanished.

  “They can feel my magic. Drakkina is leading them away from us,” she whispered. “If I cloak us it will call them back.”

  Toren watched a small cluster around Fergus regroup.

  “Toren…I’m so sorry,” Kat said.

  “We are not finished yet,” Toren replied as five Campbells advanced on him with swords drawn and death in their eyes.

  “Five to one,” Toren said to Eadan.

  “Six here,” Eadan answered.

  Toren could hear his sister’s shaky breaths and cries behind him.

  “Sweet Jesus Christ, help us,” Kat prayed out loud in a calm voice. “Holy Mother Mary, help us.” Pride filled Toren as he deflected the first blow. Aye, his lass had spirit and courage. The second Campbell struck.

  “Abhidse!” the first Campbell yelled and pulled back. “Hamish, ye almost sliced my arm off, ye fool.”

  “Feel free to maim each other.” Toren smiled and worked his shoulder in a circle to relieve the ache as the five constructed a quick plan on how to attack and not kill each other in the process.

  The first butterfly hardly caught Toren’s attention, its delicate wings gliding to sit on the first Campbell’s head. Blood thrummed through Toren’s ears as he prepared to take down as many Campbells as possible. Maybe he could distract the men long enough for Kat and Brianag to run. If they could reach the horses they might have a chance. Two butterflies landed on the second Campbell. He brushed at them with his hand and Toren lunged.

  “Arrr!” the second Campbell screamed as Toren’s blade sliced down, severing his arm. He dropped to the ground and another man dragged him back. Toren held his bloody blade before him, his face chiseled of stone.

  Four yellow and black butterflies landed on the next challenger. The man ignored them and danced around Toren, jabbing chaotically. He was either drunk, untrained, or scared to death. His wrinkled red eyes squinted at Toren with rage. Drunk then.

  Toren let the man plow ahead towards him and side stepped the lopsided attack, giving him a powerful kick in the arse. The Campbell flew half way across the clearing. Toren turned expecting the next attacker.

  Instead the Campbells had stilled, their eyes round with confusion and horror.

  Toren glanced up as a dark cloud blocked the red tinged sky. He took an involuntary step back, bumping into Kat and Brianag.

  Even Eadan stood open-mouthed, staring as the shifting, fluttering mass of butterflies descended across the clearing, engulfing everyone but Eadan, Toren, Brianag and Kat. Butterflies, thousands of butterflies covered the stunned Campbells. They didn’t just alight on the men; they attacked the men. Campbells gagged as butterflies dove into their mouths. They spit out curses with glittery wings. They swiped at the winged beasts that swooped into their eyes and tried to squeeze up their nostrils.

  “Toren?” Eadan half asked with an awed whisper.

  “Go,” Toren commanded and grabbed Kat’s arm. He was about to throw her over his shoulder like Eadan had done with their sister, but Kat’s long legs were already leaping over fallen, butterfly-covered, thrashing men as she raced for the horses. Mo bhean. My woman, echoed in Toren’s mind as his heels thudded, catching up with her long strides.

  “Go, go, go!” Brianag yelled as Eadan threw her up onto a horse.

  “We are,” Eadan answered and hoisted himself up after her.

  Toren leapt up onto his charger. He leaned down and caught Kat around the waist lifting her easily. He jerked the reins, wheeling the horse toward the clearing. Throaty garbled screams, thrashing mixed with Gaelic curses, and the dizzying flutter sound of
thousands of butterflies. No one followed, yet.

  Toren turned his horse down the road toward the warded clearing. His arm wrapped around Kat’s middle, pulling her into him.

  “Yer friends,” he said against an ear.

  She nodded, her head bumping into his chin. “I hope they…” her words held worry. “Butterflies are so fragile. They are my friends.”

  Toren remembered the swarm of yellow and blue fluttering butterflies that had followed Kat back at the orphanage. “It’s a battle of blood, Kat. They are saving ye, saving us,” he rasped, bent over the charger’s neck as the animal flew along the path.

  Kat nodded again, her prayer of thanks alighting on the gentle evening breeze.

  When they came close to the blackberry bramble, Toren slowed his horse out of the mad dash. Eadan did the same and came alongside. Brianag sat in front of her brother, staring out at the growing night. Eadan looked at Kat and then at Toren.

  “Another gift?” Eadan asked.

  “A bloody splendid gift,” Toren answered and grinned at his brother. Eadan met his smile and winked at Kat.

  “I believe we should change the MacCallum crest from the stone fortress to the butterfly.” Eadan chuckled into the twilight. Toren hugged Kat closer.

  The four rode in silence as they wound their way to the path through the brambles.

  Kat stared out at the darkness, thinking of the butterflies. Her pets, they’d sacrificed themselves for her. They were just little insects, but they had died to save them. Where had they come from? Not from her time, not from the twenty-first century, surely not. They were sixteenth century insects. Did they even have butterflies in sixteenth century Scotland? They must, she’d seen the insects depicted in clothing of the time.

  Her mind spun between relief, sorrow, and guilt. She had been certain they would die in that clearing. Or Toren and Eadan would die and then Brianag and she would suffer rape and torture. Kat raised a trembling hand to the right side of her face, to the puckered skin. She couldn’t use her magic or she’d draw the demons. Darkness shrouded, but in the dawn her companions would see her, would see her ugly scars. Would they say anything or act as if it were the most natural thing? Which was worse? Kat shivered.