Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) (38 page)

Rogan laughed, not yet noticing the man whose shoulders teetered. “So then… what is it ye may know that could change the fate o’ the world?”

Lìli inhaled a deep breath, and began to speak, but the man who had drunk the potion dropped the jug suddenly. Soundlessly, it sank into the snow, melting ice as it drained liquid fire at his feet. Without a word, the man followed the jug, crumbling to his knees.

Rogan’s gaze cut to his fallen man.

Lìli held her son close, ready to fight unto her last breath.

Aidan realized Lìli could not see him through the billowing drifts.

He and his men waited in the forbidden fields, knowing the Scots would not expect them to violate the Faerie Glen. Most men believed that to do so invited the wrath of the gods.

Painted white to camouflage horse and rider against the weather, seven riders sat upon pale horses, white mares born to this terrain and trained to ride over these craggy bluffs. The Scots and English might prefer geldings, but Aidan’s warriors preferred spirited mares, with bloodlines as pure and old as theirs, mares who did not look at each other with bloodlust in their eyes during battle. Sleek and sturdy, they were a warrior’s greatest ally, alongside the kinsman fighting at his back.

He and Lael shared a glance. The handles of his sister's knives were covered with skins to keep the cold from icing them to her fingers and so their shine would not betray them under the moonlight, but tonight it wouldn’t have mattered, for the red shadow that had embraced the moon was not bright enough to pierce the billowing snow and mist. They didn’t speak, but he knew she would play her part. His sister was as capable a warrior as any of his men.

In the distance, he saw the dark outline of a man topple to his knees and then plant himself face down into the snow. Fifteen more warriors were climbing the bluff below to block their retreat. He must know they were in place before he gave the signal, but they were out of time. Rage burned within his breast as he gave his warriors the sign to attack…

Lìli's heart jumped at the sight of the pale riders emerging from the mist.

They came out of the darkness, looking like white demons on ghostly steeds, with blue war paint smeared across their white-painted faces.

She threw open her cloak and screamed. “Run, Kellen! Run!” She pushed her son in the direction he should go. But for an instant, he faltered, reluctant to leave, and Lìli’s eyes pleaded with him to go.

Growling like an angered beast, Rogan fell upon her then, and only then did Kellen run.

Lìli saw the eyes of the rider who rode after her son, green and sparkling with vengeance. Her black hair concealed by silver-wolf furs, she met Lìli’s gaze only an instant before she rode toward Kellen and scooped him up into her arms without halting in her stride.

Kellen screamed, but Lìli could not reassure him, for Rogan dragged her to her feet and set his blade to her throat as her husband’s horse came to a halt before them, showering them with snow from beneath his horse’s hooves.

Immense pride brought tears to her eyes and she did not feel the slice of Rogan’s blade against her skin, nor the words Aidan spoke to him, for her ears were pounding with the beat of her own heart and her eyes were clouded with tears. She met Aidan’s gaze, telling him with her eyes not to cow before this demon among men. If she must die tonight, it was a fate she accepted, for she knew now that her son would be safe. Tears brimmed in her eyes, frozen for an instant…

The moon slid completely behind its shadow, and it was as though God blinked. Even the sound of her heartbeat quieted in that instant. If this would be the end, she would not allow the words to remain unsaid. Her heart constricted painfully. “
Tha gaol agam ort,
” she whispered.

The words hung between them, neither here nor there, frozen like the mist in the air.

Shrieking in outrage, Rogan saw his men—all four who had remained—abandon him. No doubt they believed the dún Scoti to be demons arisen from the Faerie Glen.

Lying bitch—she had betrayed him!

One of his men lay face down in the snow—poisoned by the whore in his arms. He had trusted her word enough to lessen his numbers by one—had thought her so virtuous that she could not have lied to save her life. But there he was, face down in the snow, and Rogan refused to take responsibility for the man's downfall, no matter that he had been the one to hand him the jug. Another man was cut down before he could lift his sword from his scabbard.

Hearing Lìli’s words were the final blow to his injured pride, and he smacked her hard against the temple with the hilt of his claymore as Aidan dún Scoti descended from the saddle into the snow.

By God, if he would die tonight, he would die like a Scotsman, not a coward!

Lìli’s body crumpled to his feet, and the last thing he spied was her blood, red as rose petals, trickling into the snow.

With a war cry, dún Scoti swung his blade.

Red was all Aidan saw—the Blood moon and the red of his wife’s blood fueled a rage unlike any he’d ever known.

Abandoning their laird, Rogan’s warriors escaped down the mountain path. Unfortunately for them, none would live to carry tales tonight. Rogan sealed his own fate the instant he discarded Lìli at his feet.

With a bellow full of fury, Aidan swung his heavy claymore. The blade caught the man’s upraised sword with a metallic crash that lit sparks in the air between them. With the sheer force of his blow, Rogan’s blade went flying backwards out of his hands. It plunged into the snowdrift at his back. Between them, Lìli’s body lay crumpled across a bed of frozen white and Aidan drove Rogan back, away from his wife.

He stumbled backward, righting himself as Aidan pulled the axe out of his belt, and once he was far enough away from Lìli, he tossed the weapon at Rogan’s feet. “Let it never be said I would slay an unarmed mon, but ye dinna mistake me, Rogan MacLaren, for I will kill ye tonight!”

The breath from Rogan’s nostrils puffed into the air like a maddened stallion. His black eyes looked like those of a cornered beast’s. Aidan inched closer, ready to strike the instant he lifted the axe, but his quarry merely eyed the weapon.

Somewhere down the mountain path, the clanging of swords could be heard, but Aidan was only interested in the death of one man. Those poor bastards below had simply made the mistake of swearing fealty to the wrong man.

Rogan backed away as Aidan stalked him, never averting his gaze as he groped in search of his fallen sword. “
Faigh bàs!
” he spat.

Aidan grinned. “Aye, but if I go to hell, I will see ye there!”

Almost as though the heavens offered agreement, the moon slid behind its shadow in that instant, but Aidan saw clearly enough to follow Rogan’s movements. He knew this land like a lover’s body. Closing in upon his prey, he bent to retrieve the axe from the ground, but he did not sheathe it. It had been a mistake for Rogan to forgo the weapon, for Aidan was far better with his axe than he was with his sword.

At last Rogan found his weapon of choice, the sword he knew still bore the remnants of Lily’s blood. Now he snarled with renewed confidence, and lifted the claymore, lunging after Aidan.

Aidan flung his axe. Unerringly through the darkened night, it found its mark in the center of Rogan’s chest, imbedding itself so deeply that he could hear the man’s ribs crack above the din of the wind. A look of stunned surprise crossed Rogan’s features as he fell backward into the drift, dropping his sword and grasping for the blade buried in his chest. The axe did not move, but death would not find him so quickly as he might hope for the blade had missed his heart.

Aidan hesitated only long enough to clear his mind of battle-rage, wind and snow whipping his face. And hearing the shouts of his men returning up the mountain path, he retrieved the jug of
uisge
Lìli had brought with her. Plucking it out of already frozen hands, he walked over to Rogan and tossed it down beside him. “Enjoy it while ye can,” he spat, offering the man a greater mercy than he deserved. “It’ll be the last ye e’er taste.”

He propped his boot against the man’s belly and withdrew the axe from his chest, cracking more ribs with the effort and leaving the bastard to whatever fate his men would allow. If he managed to crawl away before they chanced to find him, he would die prostate in the snow while wolves tore the meat from his flesh, leaving nothing but bones. Without another word, he spun about, removing his cloak to cover his wife and scoop her up from the snow, praying he was not too late…

The pain was almost unbearable.

Lìli placed a hand to her belly, worrying. For as long as anyone could recall, Una had been the only one to deliver babes here in the vale. She had never before gone away during the winter months, but Aidan swore she would return long before the Beltane celebration to give the spring blessings before setting out once again on her yearly sojourn through the Highlands.

However, the snows had long since receded, and still she had not come home. When Lìli considered the old woman’s occasional remarks—that she was “growing old,” and “now that Lìli was about to care for their kinsmen, she could rest at ease”—she worried mayhap this time would be the one time Una may not return.

Even now the bonfire was being constructed as they prepared for the Beltane celebration, and she and Lael together were counting the sheep they would slaughter for the feast. The rest of the livestock they had set aside for Una’s blessing. With but a single night remaining before the festival, all hearth fires had already been extinguished. They would be re-lit with an ember from the bonfire after it too was blessed by Una.

Sorcha, Duncan and Kellen were in the fields now with the rest of the children, picking mayflowers they would place upon every living creature in the vale. Spring was here at last and the rowan trees were in full bloom, their white buds at the ends of their branches looking like the memory of snow.

On a day like today, Lìli did not worry so much about Kellen, and she took much joy in the simple fact that for the first time in his life her son was free to be a child. The babe in her belly was another matter entirely… first he would need make it into this world, and for that she needed Una.

Lael’s brow furrowed, noting the hand that had gone to Lìli’s swollen belly. “Are ye well?” she worried.

“I am fine,” Lìli reassured.

Since the night of Rogan’s fall, and from the instant Aidan’s eldest sister had placed her arms around Lìli’s son, her manner and mood had changed toward Lìli. Aside from Glenna, she was Lìli’s dearest friend now. Betimes she found herself wishing Aveline had remained, for she had heard from a messenger that the poor girl had gone missing and had yet to be found. Of course, Lìli feared the worst, and now that she had discovered such joy amidst these people, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aveline might have encountered the same. What a pity.

“Ye dinna look so well to me,” Lael scolded. “Does she Glenna?”

Glenna knew Lìli was struggling to keep the babe from being born, and she understood why, and said, “Lìli, dear, leave the counting to us and go and rest a bit. Una will return soon.”

Ach, but Lìli was running out of time!

Another pain shot through her belly and the babe squirmed, giving her one warning after another.

She peered up near the ridge, where Aidan stood supervising the men as they hauled down cabers. Some they would leave for the games, but most of the new logs were to be used to repair winter damage on the
crannóg’s
piles, walls and floors. Some traditions were destined to continue. Others would be no more. Thankfully, they had not buried another man, woman or child—not since the day Lìli had discovered the cause of their maladies. Not even on that fateful night… up on the ridge had they lost a single life.

Of Rogan’s troupe, that was another matter. That night, they had burned Rogan’s body up on the ridge, along with his men. Only one had survived, but because Lìli had not told any of them anything about the stone, no one knew what she had promised to reveal to Rogan. And no one would ever know as far as she was concerned. For all David knew, there had simply been a skirmish over the return of her son.

Two days hence, MacKinnon men had ventured into the vale, asking once more if Aidan would lend his sword to their cause. Broc had petitioned David for the return of Keppenach, but David had refused, claiming that the fate of the fortress was undecided now that Lìli had wed. Although it could be argued that her son was still its rightful heir, it was not worth going to war with the MacKinnon's over. Still, she sensed a battle coming soon over the fate of her son’s patrimony, and Lìli worried Aidan would feel compelled to help defend the fortress from those who might seek to encroach upon the
Am Monadh Ruadh
. She only hoped he would not be forced to decide before the babe arrived—the way her belly was cramping, she feared any moment now!

As for Sorcha, she still did not know that she and Lìli were sisters by blood. Aidan had asked Lìli not to reveal it as it was her husband’s wish that his youngest sister not know the circumstances of her birth. Lìli wasn’t so certain she agreed, but it was his sister first, after all, and what mattered most was that Lìli could give the girl the love of her heart no matter what she knew of their blood.