“S he lives,” Grant said, pouring all his rage into the darkness. “Show yerself, coward.” He scooted down the steps faster. He had to reach Jessa. Had to find her. Now.
“Coward?” A low, deep chuckle made the suffocating darkness ripple across his flesh. “And why would ye think me a coward, foolish mortal?”
“Because ye dinna fight me face to face. Ye hide yerself in storms or blinding mists, shielding the truth and making it look a lie.”
“That is not cowardice, warrior, but good battle strategy, ye ken?”
The wind changed, hitting him full in the chest and shoving him back. The crash of waves sounded closer now, and he instinctively knew he had reached the last step. His boot tip confirmed there was not a next one. He stood and unsheathed his sword but remained in place. There was no way to know if the solidity of the ground ran throughout or if he stood on a small landing amid dangerous nothingness.
“Ye are too late, ye ken?” The void repeated the goddess’s words over and over in a taunting echo. The wind caught hold of them and swirled them around him in an icy caress.
He would not show fear. Instinct told him the wicked one fed on the fears of mortals. “Have ye grown so lazy and vain as to think I would accept whatever ye said without question?” he asked, shouting the words up into the darkness. He snorted with forced laughter that he hoped would enrage the goddess even more than his words. “Ye are nothing to me. I know my loved one lives.”
The ground beneath his feet trembled. Deafening thunder made him squint against the harshness of the sound. “I am the Morrigan,” the thunder said, “the Phantom Queen. Goddess of War and Fate.”
“Aye, well, the only war I fight at the moment is keeping my clan fed with the spoils from my smuggling, and my fate is to see them thrive. Ye will have to pardon me for being less than impressed with yer title, Yer Majesty. As far as I am concerned, ye are an old myth, a legend better off forgotten.” As he talked, he slid the tip of his sword back and forth in front of him, carefully guiding his steps and ensuring he remained on solid ground. Jessa was near. And she lived. He felt her.
“I could take yer soul to the other side at this verra moment, Defender, and there would be nothing ye could do about it.”
He laughed again. “Ye are slipping, old one. I am nay a Defender nor a warrior. I am a smuggler. A laird. A feckin’ earl. And a man blessed to be husband to the most precious woman who ever graced the face of this world or any other.”
Thunder crashed again, almost shaking his footing. “Ye are a Defender! Ye have helped them and aided the Weavers, as well. I have witnessed it myself.”
“Henry and Lachie are my kin. Members of my clan. Why would I not help them if they are in need?” He bared his forearms and extended them even though the inky blackness prevailed. He knew the Morrigan could see him as if the hell were lit as brightly as a sunny day. “I dinna bear the mark of a Defender not only because I have never taken the oath, but because I dinna plan to.”
“Ye lie.”
“When necessary, but not at the moment.” He resumed his slow, forward progress, then halted, and strained to locate the slightest sound the wind had carried to him—a soft, whispery moan, like the faint cooing of an injured dove. Call to me, my love , he silently pleaded. Reach out to me again.
“Do ye deny ye help those of Seven Cairns?” A hint of desperation, a tinge of frustration filled the darkness, somehow making the cloyingness of it ebb and flow like the tide.
Grant smiled. The Morrigan was questioning her actions, wondering if all this was worth the effort. From what he knew of the immortals and their ways, this slice of hell she had manifested had to require a great deal of energy for her to maintain on this particular side of the Veil. Perhaps she had finally realized this might not benefit her nearly as much as she had hoped.
“I dinna help them,” he told her. “I sell them goods, as any good smuggler would.” Now, that was somewhat of a lie. More often than not, he offered Mairwen tea, wine, and spices, so she and her Weavers would leave him the hell alone. But it was still a business arrangement. It wasn’t like he offered supplies and expected nothing in return.
The vile one didn’t respond, and neither did the darkness. The feel of it had reflected the Morrigan’s emotions up to this point, but now? Nothing. And that concerned him no small amount. Something was building. It was her turn in this horrible game, and he had no doubt she would take it.
Something shifted not too far in front of him. He resettled his grip on his sword, torn between sheathing it and falling to all fours to crawl faster and search for Jessa or maintain battle readiness. The raw urgency to save his lady love pounded through him ever harder.
A weak cough broke the silence.
That decided him. He sheathed his sword, dropped to his belly, and scrambled along the rocky ledge, feeling with his forearms. This was most definitely a ledge. If he veered too far to the left, he would help no one, and he doubted they would ever find his body in that abyss. To his right was another wall, but it was layers of stone, shale that flaked and crumbled at the merest touch, unlike the wall of polished marble beside the steps. “Jessa—find the strength to make another sound so I can find ye. Try, my love, I beg ye.”
No sound came. The silence knifed through him, twisting in his gut. He belly crawled faster, writhing through the darkness like a mighty snake.
“Jessa!” he called out. “I am coming, my love. Hold fast.”
“Please be real,” said the sweetest voice he had feared he would never hear again. “Please.”
He hit the metal bars and reached through them, patting around in the darkness. “Jessa! I am here. Where are ye in this damnable pen?” His fingertips brushed cloth, soaking wet and almost frozen stiff, but cloth just the same. He stretched as far as the bars allowed, jamming his arm between them up to his shoulder. “Jessa—lore a’mighty. Can ye move at all or are ye frozen to that spot?”
A featherlight touch ran across the back of his hand. “Grant? Is it really you, or is this just another cruel trick?”
He caught hold of her fingers and squeezed. “I am here, love. It is truly me.” The iciness of her flesh filled him with a fear the likes of which he had never known. He could not lose his Jessa. Never would he allow that.
An eerie glow, soft and golden, enveloped their hands, barely beating back the darkness.
“I knew you would come,” she whispered and gave his hand a weak squeeze. “I knew you wouldn’t let me die alone.”
Her words jarred him. “I will nay let ye die at all, wife. Daren’t ye speak of such again.”
“I am so glad you came,” she said so quietly that he strained to hear her. She sounded finished, resigned to her fate.
“Jessa! Move closer so I can lend ye some warmth.” When she didn’t answer, and the golden glow around their hands seemed to dim, he yanked on her, trying to shake her. “Jessa! Move this way. Now.”
“I am so tired. Can we not just rest for a minute? I know I’m safe now that you’re here, and I am so very tired.”
“No. Ye must stay awake. Swear ye will.”
“I will try.”
The raspy weakness of her reply spurred him to his feet. Holding onto the bars, he tried to make his way around the cage in search of a gate and almost lost his footing. The unholy thing was perched too close to the abyss. He went back the other way, but the space between it and the wall was too narrow. He daren’t attempt to squeeze through. Feckin’ Morrigan would probably release the cage so that he would shove it off into the darkness and be responsible for his dear one’s death. The roof of the enclosure felt like the same crumbly limestone as the wall. If he attempted to hoist himself up onto the slab, he risked bringing it down on Jessa’s head.
“Quite the puzzle. Isn’t it, warrior?” Morrigan said with a taunting laugh. “It took quite a few soakings to teach yer lady love some proper manners and to quiet her tongue. Now that her clothes are frozen as hard as the rocks that imprison her, she has become quite docile.”
“How do our deaths benefit ye? Ye should realize by now that neither the Defenders nor the Weavers are coming. They are nay so stupid as to take yer bait.” He wasn’t about to die, but it served him to keep the hag distracted as he worked out the puzzle of the cage. He crouched and reached through the bars again to touch Jessa’s hand. “Awake, my love?”
“I am awake,” she whispered, but the glow that appeared when they touched was not nearly as bright.
“Ye nay answered me, Morrigan!” he shouted into the darkness. “Ye ken as well as I that if we die, ye have gained nothing.”
“That is not true!”
“Name a benefit, then,” he dared the hag as he tried to shove the roof off the cage.
“The Highland Veil is not yet strengthened by yer bond.”
“Our bond already strengthened it,” he argued, straining to push the thick stone slab up and off into the abyss. “Have ye forgotten the rules, old one? As soon as the mate bond connects, the energy joins the weave of the Veil.”
Silence followed, but it wouldn’t last. The suffocating darkness vibrated with the Morrigan’s anger, pounding like an enraged heart.
“Grant,” Jessa whispered.
He crouched again and reached through the bars, elated when he found she had moved closer. But when he touched her cheek, his heart fell, and he nearly roared in agony. No warmth at all remained in her flesh. His precious Jessa felt lifeless. He hurried to remove his great kilt and shoved it through the bars. “Cover yerself, love. Soak in my warmth.”
“Grant?”
“Aye?” He could barely see her sweet face illuminated by the golden glow.
“Don’t die.”
He tightened the wrap around her and tried to warm her face between his hands. “Neither of us will die this day, m’love.”
“Ye will both die!” the Morrigan thundered. “Mairwen took what was mine. I shall take what was hers.”
“We dinna belong to Mairwen, ye bloody demoness,” Grant bellowed. “Jessa and I belong to each other—no one else.”
“Mairwen favors the two of ye. I have seen it!” Lightning splintered the darkness, forcing Grant to shield his eyes. “She especially likes ye, Earl of Suddie, because ye remind her of her son!”
“And yet I am human, and she knows I shall die long before she moves on from Seven Cairns. If she loved me as much as ye say, why would she not offer me immortality?”
“No one can offer immortality other than Bride and Cerridwen.”
Grant allowed himself a smile. The doubt had returned to Morrigan’s voice. “And who is Mairwen the daughter of, foolish one? Who are her mothers?” He prayed the rumors were true because, if they were, Morrigan would know them as well. She would not, however, expect him to be aware of them.
Silence fell again. The wind ceased to blow, and the crash of the waves disappeared. For the first time since entering the unholy bowels, Grant felt as if the evil writhing through the darkness had somehow lessened. Maybe even disappeared.
“She’s gone,” Jessa said, her voice breathy as though the mere act of speaking exhausted her. “I can’t feel her anymore.”
“Neither can I.” He didn’t add that he knew she would return. The legends sang of the Morrigan’s vindictiveness and jealousy. She never relinquished a battle without a fight. “Stay close. The roof of this feckin’ birdcage is a brittle rock. ’Tis my hope to shatter it so I can move the bars and free ye.”
“I’ll rest while you work on that.”
“No. Ye must stay awake. Do ye hear me, woman?”
“Just let me close my eyes for a minute.”
He crouched and reached for her with both arms, silently cursing the damnable bars that separated them. “Jessa, my love. Please stay awake. If ye give in to the weariness, ye may never open yer eyes again, and I canna bear the thought of that.”
When she worked her arms through the bars and tried to hug him, his heart soared.
“I’ll do my best,” she told him with a heavy sigh.
He tightened his plaid around her, then kissed her icy hands. “Talk to me while I work, aye? That will keep ye awake.”
She released another bone weary sigh into the darkness.
“Tell me of the first thing ye intend to do when we step into the sunlight,” he prompted as he stood once more, leveraged both hands under the rim of the roof, and lunged upward.
“Take a nap in a sunny spot on the grass.”
“A fine choice.” He gritted his teeth, locked his legs, and shoved again, lifting with everything in him. He had to take care to lift rather than shove lest the entire wee cage slide off the ledge. The shelf of stone crackled and groaned, but more importantly, it moved the barest bit. As he resettled his footing, with one braced on the wall beside the path, he asked, “And what will ye do once ye have had yer nap? Ask Mrs. Robeson for a cup of that vile coffee?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jessa!”
“What?” The snappishness in her tone pleased him. Irritation would not only keep her awake but also help keep her warm.
“I asked what ye would do after yer nap? Drink some of that black swill?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dinna get sullen on me, woman. Talk to me. Berate me. Curse at me or shout. I dinna care which ye choose, just keep talking and stay awake.”
“I don’t want to stay awake.”
“I am well aware of that, but ye dinna have a choice. What shall we name the puppies? What shall we name our children?” He set his hands on the roof of her prison again and shoved upward, using the wall behind him as leverage.
“We’ll name them all hey you, so we’ll never be wrong when we call them to come inside.”
The roof didn’t shift this time, but the wall behind him did. In fact, the shale crumbled, swallowing his foot to the ankle. “Feckin’ hell.” Thrown off balance, he fell forward and caught himself against the bars.
“Grant!”
“I am all right. I broke the wall, and now my foot is stuck in the mountain.”
“Bio mom once dated a guy who broke walls, but he always used his fists.”
“What the hell is a bio mom ?” While he lauded her for staying awake and babbling, he needed to understand what she said so he could respond.
“The woman who gave birth to me.”
The coldness of her tone reminded him of all she had shared about her early life. “Forgive me, love. I allowed all that to slip from my mind.”
“Well, you are a little preoccupied with a very important job. Can I please close my eyes now? Just for a little while?”
“Ye may not! Do as I tell ye, woman. Yer life depends on it this time, and ye ken that as well as I. Once I get loose, I’ll start again to free ye from yer wee cage. Now, keep talking—and I’ll nay allow ye to name my sons and daughters, hey ye. ” He pushed himself upright, backed against the wall, and tried to twist free of the weak spot he’d found with his boot. “What will ye name our first daughter and first son?”
“First?”
He held to the bars and stamped on the wall with his other foot, trying to break away more layers of the shale and enlarge the crack where his boot was wedged. “Aye, first daughter, first son. Names?”
“How many children do you have in mind?”
She still sounded bone weary, and that worried him as he finally wrenched his foot free. He had to anger her again. “At least a dozen each. I love bairns. We need to fill the keep with them.”
When she didn’t answer, he slid downward and reached for her. “Jessa?”
She reached through the bars and touched him; her face filled with fear. “Where is that light coming from? I can see you now.”
In the strange illumination, her eyes were round and dark. She possessed the eerie pallor of a specter. He looked at his hands. The blue white glow had turned him ghostly as well.
“There.” She pointed at the break he’d made in the wall. “It’s coming from that hole.”
He drew his dagger and edged closer, taking care to place himself between whatever that was and Jessa. “Stay back. It could be one of Morrigan’s tricks.”
“Then leave it alone. I don’t want you hurt any more than you want me hurt.”
“I have to see what it is, lass. It also could be something to help us.”
“Like what? Bionic glowworms or something?”
He refused to grace that with an answer, especially since he wasn’t quite sure about what she had said. At least, she appeared to be a great deal more awake. “Keep to the side of the cage in case something springs out. Away from the edge closest to the abyss.”
As he drew closer, a soft humming filled the air. The strange light appeared to have its own song.
“Holy crap. It’s a bomb.” Jessa reached through the bars, snagged hold of his shirt, and tried to pull him back. “Get back. It sounds like it’s going to go off.”
“What?”
“It could be a bomb. Explosion. Rocks flying. A powerful force blows everything to bits. Little pieces of us flying through the air.”
“And ye think my scooting an arm’s length away will deter that?”
“Don’t be an ass about it.”
Lore a’mighty, he loved this woman. “Sit there and pray for my protection while I dig.”
Her only response was an unintelligible grumble that made him laugh.
The more shale he broke away with his blade, the brighter the light and the louder the humming. Whatever was buried was ready to come out. He shielded his eyes and kept digging. Metal hit metal, and the blade of his dagger curled to one side as if soft as newly churned butter.
“What the devil?” He leaned in close and brushed the debris away from what appeared to be the haft of an ancient longsword. When he slid it free of its tomb, the steel rang out, and its powerful whitish blue light beat back the darkness of the great ravine. “Caladbolg,” he whispered. Never in all his life would he have expected this. He had always believed the ancient sword to be a myth.
“It’s like a lightsaber.” Jessa stared at the amazing blade.
“I never believed it to be real.” He stood and reverently ran his fingers down the shimmering blade, covered in markings he was far too human to read. “It is the sword of Leite from the elf mounds. Its name is Caladbolg.”
“A few days ago, I never would’ve believed in glowing Elven swords, but after all I’ve been through…” She shrugged and shook her head. “Is it a good sword or a bad sword?”
“Weapons are not good or bad, lass. The intent within the hearts of those who wield them decides that.” He tested the sharpness of the blade, impressed with the feel of it against his thumb.
“Well, at least if Morrigan comes back, maybe she’ll be more afraid of a glowing sword than a regular one.” Jessa slumped back to the ground and leaned against the bars while holding her head in her hands.
“Jessa?”
“What?” She spoke as though it took more strength than she possessed. Her burst of energy that had given him hope had left her. She didn’t lift her head, just curled into a tighter ball and clutched at the folds of his plaid with trembling hands. She was dying, freezing to death.
He resettled both his hands on the exquisitely crafted haft of the sword. “Shield yer face, love.”
When she didn’t even question why, he knew he had to make haste.
Moving to the edge of the path overlooking the abyss, Grant extended the sword and swept its light back and forth, trying to see what lay below. The action proved useless. The void beyond the ledge appeared bottomless. It was just as well. As soon as he freed Jessa, he’d carry her back to the stairs.
He swung the long blade, testing its balance and weight. If the legends were true, the mighty Caladbolg had once lopped the caps off mountains. Known for its hardness and strength, the sword was said to be indestructible and able to sever anything. Grant prayed the legend was as true as the steel’s ability to shine like a star from the heavens. He touched it to the prison’s bars on the side closest to the bottomless abyss. If he sliced low, cut them away like felling a mighty tree, the roof of the cage should slide off into the darkness without causing Jessa harm.
“Shield yer eyes, m’love,” he told Jessa, praying she had the strength to do so. Then he drew back the heavy blade and swung it. It cut through the base of the bars as though they were butter. He hurried to cut them again, making a low wedge on that side that would cause the section next to the abyss to collapse. With a deafening crash, the roof slid that way, but then it cracked in the middle and rocked toward the inside of the cage toward Jessa.
“No!” He dove under the stone, slicing through the rest of the bars and shielding Jessa with his body. The slab hit and settled its weight on his shoulders, but he locked his legs and braced himself, refusing to give way. The sword glowed brighter, and its hum grew deafening as he reversed the blade and shoved it under his arm, thrusting it deep into the thick shale trying to crush him. A thunderous boom rattled him as the slice of rock shattered into a cloud of shards.
Shoulders throbbing with pain, he set the sword aside, then dropped to his knees beside Jessa and gathered her into his arms. Cradling her close, he held her tight, raining kisses upon her while rocking as if she were a babe. “I have ye, m’love. Ye truly are safe now.”
Trembling, she burrowed closer, clutching at him as if afraid he would let her go. “I knew you’d save me,” she whispered. “I knew you would.”
“And now we shall be leaving this hell,” he rasped, then pressed another kiss to her icy forehead.
“Funny,” she mumbled, “I always thought hell would be hot.”
“Aye, love. So did I.” Thankfully, he had worn his trews, waistcoat, and jacket along with his kilt, so he was plenty warm. But soaked and frozen as she was by Morrigan’s malicious waves, Jessa was in danger—badly so. “I am going to set ye down so I can give ye my coat and wrap ye in my kilt, aye? Then I’ll carry ye out of here and get ye to a fire.”
“Ye truly believe I mean to let ye leave here alive? That I will allow ye to take yer mate out of here?” Morrigan said.
“Shit,” Jessa whispered, curling tighter against him. “I knew she’d be back.”
“Stay behind me,” he told her quietly as he set her on the ground, took up the humming sword, and faced the hooded figure slowly moving toward them.
“Give me the sword,” Morrigan said, stretching out her hand, her bony fingers long and pale, curling like talons. “It is mine.”
A ripple of blinding light shot up from the haft of the sword to its tip. It warmed and molded itself more comfortably in Grant’s grip, as if settling in and readying for battle. “It appears Caladbolg means to remain with me.”
“I told ye, ye were a Defender.”
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance. Grant wondered if it was the sword or Morrigan, since the steel was also known as the Blade of Lightning.
“I defend my wife, my future children, and my kin,” he said, widening his stance and resettling the weapon in his hands. “Ye have lost this day, Morrigan. I dinna give a damn what shape ye take. This blade will find ye.”
“Ye canna kill the likes of me.” She shoved her hood back and shook out her raven mane, assuming the form of a breathtakingly beautiful woman clad in armor. “Have ye forgotten yer teachings?”
“Aye, just as I intend to forget ye and order my clan to do the same. We will wipe yer name from every book and every tale we tell our children. Nor will it be spoken anywhere on MacAlester lands—just as it is forbidden to be uttered in Seven Cairns.”
Her dark eyes narrowed, then flared wide as if he had struck her in the face. “But ye will remember me.” She jerked a nod at Jessa. “And so will she. That will be enough. I will live in yer minds long enough to destroy the Highland Veil.”
“But that’s the thing about humans, or have ye forgotten?” Grant gave her a grin he knew would enrage her as he swept the sword back and forth, readying for attack. “As we age, we forget. Our minds dim with the fog of time.” He sliced the air, flashing the blade’s light across her as if splitting her in two. “And if ye kill us this day, Mairwen and my men will see yer name wiped from my clan and all their descendants. She gave me her word that she would do so.”
Morrigan screeched with rage, then lunged for him in the shape of the enormous wolf.
He brought the sword down with a hard slash, cleaving her skull and then her body. The grizzly halves fell to the ground, twitching and gushing blood before exploding into a cloud of ravens and swirling upward out of sight.
Grant held his breath, crouching, waiting to unleash the lethal Caladbolg again. He might not be able to kill Morrigan this day, but he could damn sure swear that she would be forgotten and thereby weakened. A forgotten goddess was a powerless goddess. Immortals only thrived when they were remembered.
The surrounding darkness exploded, knocking him off his feet. As the earth itself roared and shook, he rolled and crouched over Jessa, holding her tight in one arm while keeping the Elven sword held above them for protection. Bits of shale, chunks of rock, and debris rained down on them as the world shuddered with fearsome violence.
Jessa wrapped her arms around his neck and cried out, her lips brushing his ear, “I love you.”
He closed his eyes and tightened his embrace, acknowledging nothing but the connection with this precious woman. “I love ye, my own. Love ye ’til time ceases to be.”