Page 27 of The Bells of Triumph (Highlands’ Lost Valley #3)

26

THE EMPTY CASTLE

C ampbell sat in front of the fire, his leg, or what was left of it, propped up on a log to rest. It had been a grueling day, a grueling year, if Campbell allowed himself to think that way. But once he got the taste for war, it was impossible to satisfy. And if Seamus had been successful at anything, it was sparking Campbell's hunger for blood.

He was not the young man he once was, but Campbell still sought glory and victory for himself. The experience he had gained over the years only gave him an edge. He was no longer fooled by a disloyal council, nor did he rely on the word of any man. He had learned a long time ago that the only one he could trust was himself. Giving second or third chances wasn't in his nature. He lived according to the philosophy that a betrayal meant death, no questions asked. His men knew that, and they feared him because of it. It was just the way he wanted things.

“We are set to cross the borders in the morning,” one of his men told him. “It has taken longer than we expected, but the size of our army is so large that we cannae travel any faster.”

“Aye,” Campbell bit out. “It is our numbers that will give us the victory, nae our timing. When we attack tomorrow, Seamus will nae ken what to do. He will be left scrambling.”

Campbell swirled the whiskey in his mug, watching the amber liquid dance under the light of the fire. Tossing the entire contents of his cup back in one swig, Campbell savored the burn that traveled down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. He relished it and the relief it brought him from the throbbing in his leg.

“I come from a line of great Celtic kings, ye ken.”

He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, rather letting his eyes lock on the red-hot coals at the bottom of the fire. The rest of the men who had been brave enough to sit beside him grew quiet, fearing how Campbell would react if they didn't. It didn't matter that they had all heard his stories countless times. It didn't matter that the details grew more exaggerated and extreme with every retelling. It mattered that they listened in forced awe.

“They were feared for all that they could do. They conquered land and sea, taking what they wanted, when they wanted it. All who saw them feared them. They claimed these lands generations ago. And now all these Lairds have moved in, thinking that they own the place.” He spit into the fire, watching it steam against the hot coals. “Fools. The whole lot of them. None of them can defend themselves against me.”

The other men around the fire shifted a bit uncomfortably. No one knew what to say or how to answer. They had seen how ruthlessly Campbell would turn on a man simply for saying the wrong thing. They had watched him behead Laird MacKenzie without a second thought. No one wanted to be next.

Campbell hardly noticed them as he continued his ramblings.

“They have all tried. Some beg for mercy, for me to spare their families. Others say nothing as they ken that death is coming. Even those who have put up a fight against me have fallen. Seamus will be nay different. Tomorrow, when we invade Drummond Castle and start burning down villages, he will see just how foolish it was to have crossed me. He will nae get the same kindness I showed MacKenzie today. Nay,” Campbell growled, rubbing his hands together in delight. “I intend on making that insolent fool beg for death by the time I am finished with him. He will wish that I had killed him years ago, as I should have.”

Finally, Campbell looked up to see who was still listening. He had gained a few curious looks from some of the MacKenzie men who had pledged their fealty to Campbell earlier. They did not know the history Campbell had shared with Seamus, so he decided to enlighten them.

“Ye may be wondering why I have left the Murray lad alive all these years. It is a question I have often asked myself. Until now, I needed to ken that I would have the support or the ability to overpower the Murray Clan should I need to. By keeping Seamus alive, the rest of the clan bent to my will easy enough. They would have rioted the moment they thought any chance of things returning to their previous way of life was gone. I needed to ken that some other kin would nae come out from the woods and claim their right to the land, as if it was theirs to take.”

He huffed a laugh that lacked any humor.

“But now that I have the MacKenzie army to back me, now that I ken that nay one, nay villager or long-lost relation can stand a chance against me, there is nay reason to keep Seamus alive any longer.”

Campbell thought for a moment, the firelight dancing across his twisted expression of demented glee.

“I think I will start with that bonny wee lass of his. I will break her before I so much as lay a hand on him. Then we will all get to see just how easily the pathetic lad cries.”

Emptying his cup once more, Campbell didn't see the looks of horror and dismay that were passed around the fire. But he didn't need to. He knew that they were all terrified of him, and that was just how he intended to keep it. In all his years, he found that the best way to get his men to do what he wanted was to keep them on their toes.

“Sir, pardon the interruption, sir.”

Campbell spun around to see a pasty young chap with his chin tucked in a pseudo bow. Eyes kept to the ground, he waited for Campbell to address him. From the muddy riding boots and messy hair, Campbell assumed this was one of the scouts he had sent out earlier, back to give a full report.

“I hope it is good news ye bring me. Ye should hope for that, too. I am nae in the mood for anything else.”

The messenger swallowed hard but nodded. Shifting, he clasped his hands behind his back, as if that could stop Campbell from seeing how they shook. Campbell chuckled, took another swig, and gestured for the young man to speak.

“We have done as ye asked. With our covers, we infiltrated the Murray lands once more to learn as much as we could about the state of Drummond Castle and where things are at with Seamus.”

“And?” Campbell asked, his patience already wearing thin.

“The rebels have left the castle all but entirely abandoned. Only a small group of servants, mostly elderly women, remain to see to the castle's upkeep. The village is equally unguarded.”

“So ye are saying that it is prime for the taking.”

“Aye, sir. We encountered nay resistance on our journey there or back. There is nay one at the borders to guard it. The only people we saw were villagers, feeble ones at that.”

“That is good news. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

The messenger nodded nervously and swallowed again. Just as Campbell spun back to the fire and back to his story, the young man cleared his throat.

“What is it now?” Campbell barked, his words slurring.

“That is nae all, sir.” The scout shifted, adjusting his shirt, more than a little uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “While we were watching, we discovered that there is one person of interest residing in the castle; Caitria MacKenzie Murray.”

Campbell swore, calling her all sorts of names. He jumped up from his seat and started swearing all over again at the way he swayed on his one foot. Landing with a thud, the little whiskey that was left in his glass spilled all over his shirt. The scout flinched, while all the other men still sitting around the fire busied themselves with other things.

“She cannae be allowed to live.”

“F-from what we saw, s-sir, she was being tended by the healer every hour. It does nae appear as if she is going to survive.”

“We will make sure of that.”

Sweat beaded on Caitria's forehead, running down the sides of her temples, and dripped onto the already soaked pillowcase. She couldn't remember if a nurse had just come from giving her water and was going to fetch a cold cloth, or if she had already used a cold cloth. In all honesty, she couldn't remember much at all. The constant burn in her side wouldn't let her forget Campbell's arrow, however. It seemed as though every time she closed her eyes, she was watching his men close in on her all over again.

“Tell Seamus. Get to Seamus. Must save Seamus.”

Her thoughts repeated over and over and over until she woke up, panicked and drenched. She couldn't tell if the sweat was from her fever or her fear. Either way, it left her with a thirst that could not be quenched, no matter how much she drank.

“Ye must drink more, my lady,” the servant urged, holding a glass to her lips. “Ye must replenish what ye have lost.”

Caitria batted the glass away. She had already had so much. She never knew that she could be this thirsty and yet want nothing to do with water.

“When did ye get here?” Caitria croaked. “I thought ye just left.”

Though Caitria was confused, she could see the look of concern on the servant's face as clear as day.

“Nay, my lady. I have been here the whole time. It was Sarah who left to go get ye a fresh cloth and a clean dress.”

“A clean dress? Why do I need a clean dress?”

Pushing herself up, off the pillows, Caitria looked down to see her shift that had not been white in many years, was now stained bright red. The sight made her head spin.

“Och. I see,” she answered for herself.

“I fear we will need clean bed linens as well. Shall I go fetch them for ye?”

“Aye. That would be nice. These wretched things are wet and reek of vomit.”

“Ye must stay in bed. The healer has ordered that ye dinnae get up. Do ye understand?”

Caitria nodded her agreement, too weak and tired, to put up an argument. As it was, she didn't know how she would have the energy to get up, even if she wanted to. Despite the wet sheets, the bed was still much softer than the one she was used to at MacKenzie Castle. She had no desire to move.

Letting her eyes drift closed, Caitria was once again lost to the fever raging through her weakened, drained body. She heard murmurs about just how much blood she had lost and questions about how she had managed to survive this far. None of it made sense to her. Her mind could only focus on her desperate need to save Seamus.

Time stopped existing for her. She didn't know who was with her and who was not. She didn't recognize a single face. Nor did she often remember where she was. All she knew was that someone had gone to bring her a clean dress and fresh bed linens. She tried her best to cling to consciousness, but it was a feeble attempt. Nothing in her mind was solid. That is, nothing was solid until she heard the quiet rumbling that turned into thundering. It was a sound she had never heard before, but one she had dreamt of time and time again.

Forcing her eyes open, Caitria sought clarity. She looked around, feeling like she was finally able to see the pale gray stones covered in mortar that made up the walls of her room. The rafters over her head were a dark brown wood, making her feel safe and enclosed. The small notches on one of the four mahogany bed posts stuck out to her, like someone had accidentally scratched it. Her hands moved through the layers of blankets that had been placed over her and tucked in at her sides. One by one she peeled them off, though it took a monumental effort to do so.

Finally free, she steadied herself to look down, knowing that she would see a large stain of blood. But when she did brave a glance, she found a pristine shift that didn't fit her quite right and a large bandage wrapped tightly around her middle. She understood then why it had been so hard for her to breathe.

Swinging her feet to the edge of the bed, Caitria moved slowly as she attempted to sit up. Her head spun as she moved, but she refused to lay back down.

The sound of thunder grew louder and Caitria knew she had to get to the window. She had to see what was coming.

Her hands clenched in fists, Caitria forced her eyes open. Clutching at the bedpost closest to the window, she pulled herself up. The little water that remained in her belly threatened to come up, but she forced it down. Shuffling her feet, Caitria inched over to the window.

Some part of her hoped against all hope that it was Seamus and his army making their way to the borders. She wanted to see him so desperately that her bones ached. It felt as though she had spent a lifetime looking out of windows, hoping to see her son, or even her husband, riding towards her, coming to rescue her. And in all the years that she had looked, that had never been the case. But now, now, Seamus knew that she was there. He had been told that she was free from Laird MacKenzie, that she had come to see him. And what's more is that he needed to protect his borders, his people from being invaded.

“It has to be him,” she whispered as she forced herself to cover the last bit of distance that separated her from the window.

When she finally made it there, her heart fell to the ground in bitter disappointment. Her body followed a moment later.