Page 41 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
Chapter Seventeen
R ory stood watching the fire burn higher and hotter in his smelting furnace, imagining how it might be to die in that inferno.
Certainly he would need to add more wood and stoke it to the temperature necessary to turn to ash a half-Fae outcast who had no business breathing the same air as the McKeran Clan.
He could even put himself to sleep immediately after he cast himself into the flames, and avoid suffering the pain of such a terrible end.
Shall I die today? For I ’ ve no reason to keep living.
Inga had survived only long enough to bid Grace farewell, dying before he could reach her and confess the love he’d kept hidden from her all these years.
He would burn in the cold fire of regret for the rest of eternity, he suspected, for now that she was gone every fear he’d had seemed so paltry.
So she had loved the laird; Rory might have won her heart for a second chance at love.
She might have become his lover to keep from being lonely, and even that would have been enough.
He was truly an eejit.
Slowly he closed the door to the furnace, and looked up at the open top where smoke poured up into the chimney flue on the ceiling.
There was hardly enough space for him to squeeze his big body into the gap in order to drop into the fire, but that could be done.
He would add more wood, bar the door, and then climb up and put an end to his miserable existence.
“Dinnae even think it,” a deep, angry voice said from behind him.
He closed his eyes briefly before turning to regard Tasgall. “’Tis all I do of late,” he whispered.
“She wouldnae ever want you to kill yourself,” the laird told him.
“She doesnae ken I love her. Loved her,” he corrected himself. “Ever and only she had eyes for you. Ava saw such, as did every man in the clan. I reckon you’ve no worries now that she’s dead.”
Tasgall marched up to him until they stood toe to toe. “If you werenae such a facking eejit, I’d beat you bloody. Inga honored me with her heart. ’Twas the greatest regret of my life that I couldnae return her love. Just as she couldnae love you, you great fool.”
“Show me mercy, my lord,” he begged, his shoulders sagging. “Leave me to decide my fate.”
“Your fate, as if ’twas meant. Dinnae you ken ’tis more work you need do? That your magic may be the only weapon we have against this Bodach?” When Rory didn’t reply Tasgall shoved a small scroll into his hands. “Right, then, do as you wish. Only promise me you’ll read this first.”
“I shall first read the scroll.” He took it from the laird, who turned and left as if he couldn’t bear to remain in the same chamber with him another moment.
Rory walked over to his work bench and sat down to read the scroll, expecting it to be some message filled with wisdom from Ava or Ben, one that would not change his resolve. He didn’t recognize the writing, but as he read the letter he realized who had written it, and why.
Rory,
Last night I had a dream that my life will be over soon. I hope that doesn’t come to pass, but you know often this place sends us messages. That’s why I’m writing this and giving it to Tasgall in the event my dream turns into reality.
I know you’ve loved me since I first came here.
I didn’t choose to be with you because I fell in love with the laird from the moment I met him.
We became lovers, but when I discovered it was only physical for him I should have ended our affair.
Instead I stayed with him and kept hoping, the same way I imagine you have hoped I’d turn to you someday.
In time I parted ways with the laird, and I considered offering to be your lover, because by then I sensed how much you cared for me.
I thought we would have been happy, even if I never loved you back.
Seeing Tasgall with Ava made me ashamed of myself for thinking about using you that way.
There’s something else you should know about the dream I had.
There was a tall, lovely young woman with red hair standing beside you in one of the towers, high above everyone else at Dun Talamh.
I believe that she is coming here soon, and she is important, although I don’t know why.
Please watch out for her, because she may be the key to freeing everyone from the curse.
Fare well, my dear friend. If there is an afterlife, I hope to see you there, but not too soon.
Inga Holm
H e rolled up the scroll, and placed it carefully in a carved box where he kept a lock of his màthair’s black hair.
After he replaced the box on a high shelf, he walked over to the smelting furnace, where the fire now roared like a furious beast. He looked into the flames for a long time, ignoring the reddening of his fair skin from the heat, until he knew what he had to do.
He closed the lower dampers to starve the fire of air, and then pushed the furnace cap to cover it just beneath the flue in the ceiling.
Not tonight.
After extinguishing all the lamps and torches, he left to walk the passages until he arrived at one that had been blocked off with some barrels to prevent the clan’s dogs from wandering into it.
He vaulted over the barrels and strode through the darkness to an old set of stone steps.
They led up in a spiral that didn’t end until he reached the very tallest tower room at Dun Talamh.
There Ava waited for him, as he’d expected, with two mugs of brew. She handed him one before walking out onto the ledge, which overlooked all the rooftops of the keepe.
“He let me read the scroll first,” she said. “I knew you’d come here. You always do when you need to be alone.”
He took a sip of the brew, which was made of calming herbs and apple. “You’re a law woman, and you share my bloodline. ’Tis as impossible as me joining the McKeran Clan, and yet here I am. We defied our fates. Now the woman I loved and lost tells me another is coming. One who may free us all.”
Ava turned to regard him. “I can’t say if that’s true or not, but you know how dreams work here. It’s a good reason to keep living. There’s something else you need to know.”
“I ken the pain I suffer shall be with me for a long time,” he admitted.
“’Twould be difficult to continue on without any hope of happiness.
Only ’tis something you dinnae ken about Inga’s dream.
” When she frowned, he added, “I had the same dream. The red-haired lass stood beside me, exactly where you do now.”
“What were you doing up here?” Ava asked.
He looked out at the forest illusion. “I cannae tell you. I woke a moment after I had the vision of standing in the tower with her.”
“I surely do hate this place sometimes.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “But it has to mean something, or you and Inga wouldn’t have had the same dream.”
“Mayhap.” He regarded her. “What more did you wish tell me?”
Ava sighed. “I checked with some of the guards near the armory. They said they heard you talking in there just before the wall collapsed on Farlan and Grace. That wall is directly beneath the spot in the armory where you like to sit and rest.”
“’Twas no one with me that night.” He shook his head. “They’re mistaken.”
“I came in just after the collapse, and woke you up, remember?” Sympathy filled her eyes. “You were talking in your sleep, Rory. Talking loud enough for the guards to hear you, and that means–”
“I caused the wall to collapse.” Horror flooded him. “My lady, I never meant for such to happen.”
“I know, Big Brother. Come here.” She hugged him, making all his wretchedness well up in him, bursting from him in a rush of tears and soundless sobs. She held onto him, patting his back as he wept. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get through this. I promise.”
A fter dawn Torra drifted through the passages, happy for once to see the enchantment repairing the damage to the great hall and healing the injured vassals. She returned to the two spots where the enchanted bats had burned to death, but only their ashes yet remained.
Mayhap these attacks shall end now. She hoped rather than knew that to be true, for as long as she existed, Bodach would keep searching for her.
Finally she went to the armory to look in on Rory, who had been hard at work since the clan’s chatelaine had died.
Torra knew the big man plied his massive implements not only to provide much-needed weapons and tools for the clan, but to keep himself in check.
Today he was pounding out the dents the bats had left in the shields Farlan and Darro had carried, and applying steel patches where the metal needed reinforcement.
To see him wielding his sledge always gave Torra pause, for unlike the clan and their vassals she could see how the tool blazed with the dark violet aura of his power.
He may sense me now and again, but he’s grieving too much to notice me.
What flowed through his veins called to her, as always, for the magic of one primeval spirit immediately recognized and drew another with the same power.
Torra shared blood with an ancient mortal tribe, one that came before druid kind.
Her people long ago had stood against those who would in time become Rory’s tribe.
The ancient enemies had never prevailed over each other, only helping to keep each other in check.
While the armorer’s tribe might have left the path of righteousness, Rory had never joined them in their wickedness; his lady màthair had saved him from that.
Now he had to be suffering from the loss of the clan’s chatelaine, for his movements seemed almost clumsy, as if he could not keep his mind on his work.
If only I could ask what I might do for him.
“You may come closer, Lady Torra,” he whispered, setting down the shield and the giant hammer. “You may do as you wish to me. I shallnae ever seek to harm you.”
Do you reckon I intend to harm you, lad? she thought, perplexed.