Somewhere My Lass (19 page)

She took what she dreaded to think was her last glimpse of this man.
God forbid—if there be any mercy in the world
. Then turned and pushed open the unlocked door.

Light from the torch lent faint illumination to the gloom. In the center of the chamber stood a sarcophagus. The details of the carved image lying in repose above the stone coffin eluded her, but it must be the tomb of an ancient, revered MacDonald.

He held no interest for her. Nor any other secrets that might be hid in this foul place.

In unspeakable desperation, she sought Niall.
There!

He sat bound, leaning against one wall amid the final resting place of the dead. She’d imagined him in just such a cell. Anger flared in her. They’d left him here, tortured and alone. To perish.

Once more, he’d faded into senselessness. His head hung down on his chest. She rushed to him and knelt at his side. “Niall. I’m come.”

No reply.

Shaking him, she called, “Niall!”

He lifted his head. Tears blurred her vision, nor could she have seen his expression in the murky light, but she sensed his dazed astonishment.

“I ne’r thought to see ye again,” he said hoarsely.

“I’ve brought ye the gift of life, I pray.”

“I fear ’tis too late fer me. Gie Red MacDonald what he asks and flee this evil chamber, dear one.”

“Niver.”

“Forgive me, m’ love. I cannot…” His head sagged down onto his chest.

“There’s naught to forgive.”

Her chest ached with the violent sobs she held back. Blinded by tears, she took the tiny bottle and tilted the precious fluid onto her fingertips. The clash of steel and grunts of men engaged in deadly combat sounded as she lifted his chin and anointed his chilled forehead.

Voice quavering, she uttered the same prayer she had for Neil in the passage.

Intently she waited for something. Anything. Their past, present, future—everything depended on Niall!

Nothing.

Body limp, his head sagged in her grasp.

God’s blood! Was it all for nothing? She feared, even now, the sun was about to set and Neil’s time at an end.

No!
She’d not accept that.

Should she flee back to the larger chamber and lend him her aid, such as it was? She possessed no weapon, but as she lived and breathed, she’d fight like the very devil to defend him.

Through the crack in the door, she glimpsed Neil stagger under a blow he only just deflected. The MacDonald lunged after him and she lost sight of the two. How Neil was even on his feet she couldn’t fathom. A greater power than the evil that brought them here drove him now.

Could she do less?

Grief tore at her like the teeth of a vicious beast, but she was resolved. No matter what, even if both Neil’s perished from this world, she’d never forsake them or her quest. Hope lay in fulfilling that mission. And that hope lay in here with Niall.

Once more, she grasped his unresponsive shoulders. “Believe me, love, there is a way. Life is within yer grasp.”

He made no reply.

God help them. She’d given her all. Sobs racked her chest and she slumped beside him.

In the midst of unspeakable pain, a gentle whirr fluttered over Mora’s head, like the flutter of angel’s wings. And a woman whispered in her ear. “For your faith.”

Then the most unlikely fragrance in the world charged this chamber of death, the delicious scent of damask roses, imbued with the earthy warmth of myrrh. And where only gloom had been, a sacred glow now illuminated the room. She breathed in the sweet perfume and gazed about her in wonder. The mystical light seeped away into the corners, as though angels had come and departed.

A clatter of metal echoed—a blade falling to the stone floor. And the swords in the adjoining room grew silent.

“Where in blazes did the bastard go?” sputtered The MacDonald.

“Where you won’t find him!” Fergus shouted back.

Heart in her throat, Mora riveted her gaze on the crypt. Fergus, alone, faced The MacDonald.

“Black magic is afoot here! Ye are the divil’s own henchman wie yer vile arts!”

“Yes! I’m a great wizard!” Fergus proclaimed, “And you had better run before I turn you into a boar, which you most surely are!”

A rapid footfall slapped on the stones as The MacDonald hastened from the crypt. But he shouted, “Ye shall burn fer this, ye foul fiend!”

“Only if you catch me before I transform you! Flee fast and far, Red MacDonald!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gone? Neil was gone?

Paralyzing shock. Mora should’ve expected this. But the actuality of Neil’s sudden departure took her unawares.

Like being seized by the throat—or slammed by a great wave and rolled head over heels. Was he joined with Niall now? Or had he made the ultimate sacrifice?

In an anguish of uncertainty, she turned back to Niall. He still sat shrouded in the murk. She clasped his face in her hands.

Warmer
. Relief left her weak.

A low moan issued from his lips. He seemed to be coming round. Thankfulness welled in her alongside the fear that he mightn’t have any memory of his life as Neil.

Dearest Neil, what if no thought remained for all they’d shared together these past few days, no memory of their adventures? The brief but all-consuming hours with him flashed before her mind’s eye…his courage, humor, wit, and tender passion, that quality of gentleness he’d shown even to his cat. Most of all his love. How she’d cherished knowing he esteemed her above all others.

Would this Niall recall anything beyond the deep regard he’d borne her as his betrothed? Would he even recognize the devoted friend who’d risked everything to preserve him? Would he be but half the man she adored, whose seed, even now, might bring forth a new life within her?

Blotting at her tear soaked face, she called out, “Fergus! Bring a light!”

Hardly had the plea escaped her lips before Fergus streaked through the door. In one hand, he grasped the violet beam, in his other, Neil’s boots. The distinct black coat lay across his arm.

“Craziest thing I ever saw. Neil just vanished and left this stuff behind!” Fergus halted a few feet away from her and Niall. Staring down at them, he asked, “Is that Neil or Niall or both?”

Her chest hammered—a great mallet beating inside her. “I’m not certain. Come nearer and help me discover.”

Fergus shone the light so she could better see the man before her. “Niall?” she whispered.

He lifted his head and shook it as if to clear his dazed senses. He fixed his eyes on her, confusion still clouding the depths. The welts and bruises she’d anticipated were nowhere to be seen, the cuts and blackened eyes, absent. His face was free of injury, his skin as unsullied as though washed clean. The miracle that was Niall gazed out at her.

She gazed back.

“Mora, yer here,” he said softly.

“I niver left.”

He smiled. “I felt ye with me.”

She laid her trembling hand on the torn sleeve of his leine. Where there should be blood, there was none. Only grime from his ordeal. Gesturing towards Fergus, she asked. “Do ye know this man?”

He knelt with her beside Niall in plain view and they both waited.

Niall scrutinized Fergus, brow furrowed. There was no recognition in his face. His expression reminded her of Neil’s when she’d first encountered him in the hallway of his Staunton home.

Mora’s battered heart sank. He’d forgotten. As unspeakably grateful as she was to reclaim Niall, she yearned for some part of Neil to remain inside him.

Then Niall’s gray eyes cleared, like clouds before the sun, and he smiled more broadly. “Fergus, what have ye done to the Red MacDonald.”

Mora clapped her hands together while Fergus chuckled.

“You should have seen the look on his face when you disappeared. Then I sent the big bully running for his life, but he’ll be back with reinforcements, I don’t doubt.”

“Wish I might have witnessed the scene. Ye must have put the fear of the Lord in him right enough. Does m’ sword lie in the other room?”

“Just where you dropped it when you vanished. Fricking weirdest thing.”

“Aye. Felt like I was tumbling through space, then I awoke as ye see before ye. Make haste to cut m’ bonds afore we have company.”

Fergus reached into Neil’s coat and took out the dagger his mother had given him. “I knew this would come in handy. It would’ve been danged awkward for me to attempt this with a broad sword.”

Niall smiled. “I should be fortunate to retain the use of m’ arms.”

“And I.” With a flick of his wrist, Fergus deftly cut the rope binding Niall. The cords fell to the cold stone beneath him.

Niall rubbed his arms. “That’s better. I’m nae so sore as I thought to be. M’ back no longer sears me. The holy vial has brought healing and restored my strength.” With a hearty laugh, he reached out and drew Mora into his strong arms. Stroking her hair, he said. “You did this, beloved.”

“And Fergus,” she prompted.

“No man could have a truer friend.” Extending his arm, he clasped Fergus’s shoulder and pulled him into their embrace. “Well done.”

For once, Fergus was too overcome to reply.

“There is one other who gave all for you. Neil,” Mora said softly.

“I am that man, Mora. We were always joined together, but dinna realize.” Niall rose stiffly to his feet and pulled her up with him. He took a tentative step. “’Twill take a bit to get full feeling back in m’ legs.”

“Lean on me.” Mora closed an arm around his waist, hardly able to believe he was actually here, muscular, heated, and in the flesh, for her to encircle.

He smiled down at her and sent a thrill rippling through her middle. “I’m nae so needy as that, but yer embrace is most welcome.”

Fergus straightened. “How’s your knee?”

Niall seemed puzzled at first and then, “Ah, that injury. I’ve had sech a plenty, I forgot which one ye meant.” He tested his knee. “Wondrously healed.”

“You’re one stupendous SOB, Niall.”

“Aye,” he said somberly. “I cannot take it all in.”

Fergus shook his head as if to clear it. “I never will.”

Mora only knew her heart overflowed with gratitude for the second chance given to her and Niall.

“Wait. You’ll want this.” Fergus slid the sheathed dagger back into the inner pocket and handed the coat to Niall.

“Gladly.” He put the warm garment on over his ragged leine and trews and pulled the leather boots on over his stocking feet. “Now I’m fit to go forth.”

A clicking attracted Mora’s attention. The noise emanated from one of Fergus’s pockets.

He startled. “My magnetic energy field detector! A portal must’ve opened up!”

****

Niall sought to order his old thoughts along with the new, or was it the other way round? He’d make sense of it all eventually. Meanwhile, he remembered this device and the tunnel through time it had the means to discover. But he was dumbfounded that a portal should open up now.

“Here?” he asked. “Are ye sure?”

“Why not?” Fergus bounced on his toes, gesturing with his hands. “It shifted before. And this crypt is the heart of our mission. Besides, I always thought the door to nowhere resembled the entry of a chapel.”

“Aye. That it does.”

Fergus reached into the recesses of his coat and withdrew the metal wand shaped like a laser. He held it out and strode out the partly opened door into the crypt. Niall and Mora followed him across that chamber toward the stairs leading up to the chapel. The clicking grew louder, and put Niall in mind of a chirping cricket. Fergus extended the wand toward the open archway at the top of the stairs.

The device clicked madly. Had it possessed a needle like a compass, the arrow would’ve pointed in that direction. There could be no mistake. Beyond the door into the chapel, lay the portal. Strangest of all, misted light shone up ahead as if from another realm.

No one spoke. They all knew.

A dimly seen woman appeared beyond the opening, her countenance familiar. Betty Fergus. Also much resembling Niall’s late Aunt Mary, Aunt Margaret’s sister. He recognized the hallway of his old home in Staunton. Betty must be standing before the door to nowhere, and seemingly anywhere.

Fergus crowed, “Mom said she’d try to keep the portal open and by heaven she has!”

Niall sensed this most unusual woman had also known how enormously valuable her son would be on their quest. She’d generously parted with him, for a bit. Fergus was much changed from the young man she’d sent off with them. He’d matured more in a few days than he had in years. And now, Niall assumed, she’d appeared to summon him home.

Her voice reached them as if from a great distance. “Fergus, it’s time.”

He hailed her. “I’m coming!” He angled his head at Niall and Mora, eyes alight with expectation. “Hurry! Let’s go! There’s not a moment to lose.”

Sadness pierced Niall. “Fergus, we cannot. Our place is here. I no longer exist in that world. Neil and Niall are one in this time and place. And only here.”

He read the same realization in Fergus’s bleak expression.

“’Tis grieved I am to bid ye farewell, but ye must go on without us,” he continued.

Moisture glistened in Fergus’s eyes behind his glasses. “But you’re my best friend.”

Niall wrapped his arms around his slender shoulders. “And you, mine. I thank ye for all ye’ve done. Look after m’ old home. ’Tis yers now. All I have from that life belongs to you. I left a will, naming you. After a while, I shall be declared dead and ye will inherit.”

Fergus embraced him in turn with surprising strength. “How can I leave, not knowing what will become of you both?”

“We will thrive. I vow to find some way to get word to ye.”

“In the future?”

“Ye shall read an account of Niall MacKenzie and his good wife Mora, and all their bonnie children.”

Fergus said huskily, “By the time I read it, you will be long dead.”

“But not gone. Our friendship will live on and someday we shall meet again in heaven or on earth.”

“I’ll look for your account.”

“Ye shall find it.”

Fergus quirked a slight grin. “On
Google
?”

Neil smiled. “Or more likely, among the relics my family collected. Look again in the attic. Pray God, ye will find what you seek from me there.”

Fergus gave a nod. Swiping at his eyes, he turned to Mora. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I shall miss ye, Angus Fergus. God speed. Now go! Before the way closes. And give our thanks to yer dear mother.”

“I will.” Blinking hard, Fergus handed Niall the violet light. “You’ll need this. You can switch it to green or orange if you prefer.”

The profound reluctance in his face mirrored Niall’s sentiment at letting him go. But he must. Fergus didn’t belong here. “Take care.”

“And you.”

“Remember Sebastian.”

“Mom’s probably already taken him in. She loves cats.” With that, Fergus turned and charged up the steps. He paused to glance back at them over his shoulder. “One to beam aboard, Scotty,” he quipped in true Fergus style.

“‘Aye, aye, Captain.’” His voice thick, Niall gave the traditional reply.

An upraised hand signaled Fergus’s farewell.

Niall and Mora mutely lifted their hands.

Straightening his shoulders, Fergus strode through the door, enveloped by the cloudy whiteness. He was gone. He was going home.

Mora appeared as stunned as Niall felt. For a long moment, they stood together, staring after the place where Fergus had vanished. “We cannot go back that way,” Niall finally said.

He sheathed the claymore and slid on his back scabbard. A wave of energy came over him. Swept up in renewed vitality, he caught Mora to him.

“We’ll hasten through the tunnel guided by this light. If we can reach the horses and bound away before Red MacDonald gets wind of our departure, so much the better. If not, I stand ready to fight. But first—”

Breaking off in midsentence, he bent his head and covered her lips with his, pouring the flood of love from two lifetimes into that slow, sweet kiss. All around them, demons might sneer and dead men molder in the crypt, but theirs was a holy union. A radiant light soared in Niall’s soul, and he knew, all would be well.

Mora whispered against his lips, “Should we return the vial and bulla that held it before we go?”

“Red MacDonald would thank us for restoring an empty relic.”

An idea came to Niall and he cupped her face in his hands. “Besides, the vial and bulla are what I have in mind to pass down through the family.” He grinned at her bewildered expression. “Where I shall conceal m’ letter to Fergus. Perhaps he will find it in the attic as we did.”

She looked doubtful then brightened a little. “Or Mrs. Dannon’s true niece may arrive and offer Fergus comfort.”

“Mayhap.” Niall suspected it was a romantic whim. “Do not fear for Fergus. He will find his way. Lands on his feet, that one.”

“Think ye we will ever lay eyes upon him again?”

Niall held Mora to him. “Anything is possible.”

A familiar whine carried from the tunnel below the crypt, then a distinctive bark sounded. His deerhound.

Mora lit up. “Kiln must have found ye!”

With a smile, Niall hurried her toward the hole where they’d pushed the stone aside. “That faithful friend never gave up on me either.”

The End~