Caledonia Destiny Page 24

  When Ewen stood, Roi groaned, being quite stiff from the hard surface, and needed Ewen’s help to rise from the table’s top. The room smelled strongly of musk and man from their many couplings. Roi had never been as happy as he was here at the cottage. Mayhap he would convince Ewen to come up here again for a few days’ tryst.

  On shaky legs, Roi made his way across the room to the hearth. Ewen wanted to sleep next to the fire, so they had devised a thick pallet at a safe distance. They fell onto the furs in a riot of laughter and, with lingering caresses, cleaned each other. Roi’s skin felt raw in places from the stiff hair upon Ewen’s chin, not that he minded since it brought to mind the one who possessed him so thoroughly. Running his palms over Ewen’s head, he noticed the hair had begun to turn soft to the touch. He looked forward to when it would grow long enough to part with his fingertips.

  “On the morrow we head home. My children shall adore you.” As had become customary, Ewen lay nearest the door, curling about Roi’s body until there be no space betwixt them.

  “I confess, I be nervous about the reception of yer other kin.” Roi’s own siblings and parents were faint memories from a time long afore the temple.

  “Nay. They shall understand your importance to me and Bear, and want to hold a celebration for our joining.” Roi hoped he was correct. Natheless, he would win them over and ensure Ewen’s happiness.

  “Sleep now. We leave after the sun rises, and shall take most of the day to cross the mountain.”

  Nervous though Roi was, sleep came easy. Ewen and Roi had been very demanding of each other since the first night of coupling. Their nightly lovemaking had no end and left Roi utterly drained. His eyelids grew heavy as he stared at the coals of the fire and the day’s demands caught up with him. He would miss being able to slake their lust as oft as they wanted, waking one another in the dark of night to begin all over again, then sleeping late into the morn.

  The first couple of days, Roi afeard he would wake to find this new life a dream. He spent hours watching Ewen sleep, the banked fire of the hearth casting long shadows, a portent of dark times to come. Surely the gods would take Ewen not from him after all that had transpired. Roi fell asleep firm in his belief he was spared for a reason.

  The dream began the same as it had hundreds of times ere now. As was the norm, Roi knelt afore Ewen, except the red robe was now a belted cloak and tunic. Ewen looked not at him, rather staring in despair at something behind Roi. Ewen’s hands fisted about the hilt of a short sword as he slowly raised the blade over his head.

  Most oft these dreams came not with sound, yet Roi clearly heard soft crying. Not able to resist, he glanced over his shoulder to behold four men holding a young girl of eight or nine. She wept, her huge, sobbing breaths shaking her small body. By the look upon Ewen’s countenance, she was known to him.

  The door to the cottage stood wide open and two more men crept up behind Ewen. The situation appeared to be hopeless. Roi’s gaze sought out Ewen’s in time to see him mouth, “Forgive me.”

  The world about Roi slowed to a crawl as Ewen brought the sword down with a mighty swing.

  Roi startled awake, gasping as he gazed hastily about the room with rising dread, searching for strange men. The crying of the child seemed to ring through the air of the cottage, followed by a whispered command that his foggy mind strove to grasp hold of and fix in his memory.

  A vision had not been bestowed upon him since crossing the firth with the King of the Isles’ men. True, Roi still read the glow about people, but his night’s sleep had been his own and not plagued with the presage of deeds that would soon come to pass.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Roi rolled from the pallet and stoked the fire. With haste he found the last of the oats, placed them in the crock, adding water afore he moved the crock closer to the coals to cook. As he moved, sore muscles called to mind the time spent with Ewen. Would their coupling continue to be as vigorous once they settled amongst Ewen’s kin? By the stars, he prayed it would.

  He stretched again, adding the last of the salted beef to the pottage afore searching out clothing. Within the intimacy of the cottage it was most convenient to wear minimal attire, since they oft disrobed in their conquest of each other, more oft than not passing the time wrapped in furs unless they needed aught from outside.

  By the time the pottage was ready, Roi had donned trouse and pulled the tunic over his head. Ewen sniffed, then groaned as he rolled over and lifted his gaze, searching the room, his gaze finally coming to rest upon Roi.

  “Shall you not bestow upon me a kiss to start the morn, maik-marrae?”

  Roi’s cheeks heated as if he were a young man in the midst of his first infatuation. Ewen enjoyed calling him maik-marrae, husband, and Roi secretly cherished the sound of Ewen’s voice when he called Roi such. He hoped it was a sign Ewen would come to care deeply for him in the future.

  Roi grabbed Ewen’s raiment and crossed the floor, laying the cloaks over the back of Ewen’s favourite chair. “First attend to yer clothing whilst I retrieve the pottage from the fire.”

  Ewen grumbled but donned his small cloth afore moving their nest of furs to the cupboard beds. Until they both were fully attired, Roi dodged Ewen whenever he attempted to steal a kiss.

  “You did that apurpose,” Ewen grumbled.

  “Yea.” Roi grinned against Ewen’s mouth. “If ye were not fully clothed, a kiss would lead to me keeping ye here another day.”

  Ewen clutched the belt at Roi’s waist, holding him close when Roi would have pulled away. “What a shrewd man you be. Mayhap we shall stay anyway. This day. Upon the morrow. What difference shall another eve make?”

  He pressed his forehead against Ewen’s. “As much as I would love to keep ye to meself, ye have obligations. Can we not come here another day for a future tryst?”

  Ewen sought more kisses, this time with a half-hearted grope. Roi gave him a playful shove, ignoring the blush that heated his cheeks, still unused to Ewen’s single-minded craving for him. Roi grabbed two sword belts to buckle onto Ewen, one upon each hip.

  Ewen chuckled and sought to avert Roi from fastening the second belt. “One be enough, Roi. We only be a day’s ride from home. We be well within the bounds of the clan’s lands. None other than my kin be about upon the mountainside.”

  Roi bit his lip to keep from replying. The messages of the dreams were told to no one outside those dedicated to Cerridwen. There was a steep price to pay for revealing what he knew to those not of the priesthood. Furthermore, the vision could take place upon the morrow or a twelvemonth from now. With the dream so fresh in his mind, Roi had allowed himself to react when he should not.

  “As ye say.” Roi laid the sword and belt upon the table, giving Ewen his back to peer within his satchel and hide his face. The silence turned awkward as Ewen held his peace. “I shall attend to the horses.” Upon quick feet, Roi retreated from the cottage into the light of the early morn.

  The sky, dark and grey, promised rain later in the day. A half-dozen steps towards the low rock wall enclosing the cottage, it dawned on him that he heard naught. Halting, he glanced about, the now familiar scene of the glen stretched afore him.

  The trees swayed in the wind and yet no sound reached his ears. He should hear the water of the stream, the song of the morn’s birds. Yet there was naught. Turning in a circle, Roi began to count, the figure quickly rising so high there became no reason to tally their sum.

  Ravens.

  Scores upon scores sat in the naked boughs of the trees, their numbers so thick the new green of spring was utterly hidden by a pallet of deep black. All about the cottage, even upon the slope of the thatched roof, the birds perched still and eerily quiet, their beady black eyes trained upon Roi. Waiting.

  He swallowed thickly around the fright rising within him. For the first time in his life Roi had something—someone—precious to lose.

  As soon as the child’s scream pierced the air, he turned upon his heel and ran toward
s the sound. Roi’s sword slapped against his thigh as his gaze searched for whence the cry came. A young girl with long black hair and clad in a simple kirtle broke through the tree line, glancing with wide, frightened eyes behind her afore dashing towards the cottage—and Roi.

  With his scarred and tattooed visage, Roi appeared quite fearsome, and yet this child threw herself upon him as if she held the undeniable conviction he would shield her against all harm. When Roi caught her up, she clung to him as if she had found her fondest toy, and buried her face in Roi’s loose hair. He cursed silently for not attending to his locks and binding them afore he left the cottage.

  Burdened as he was, Roi turned and dashed towards the cottage as fast as his feet could carry him. The ravens simply watched with eerie silence from their perches. “If we become separated, ye run to the cottage and lock yerself inside and hide. Do ye hear me?” Roi felt her nod against his shoulder.

  He had almost made the wall enclosing the cottage when he glimpsed two men sneaking around the side. He would not be able to get the child within the cottage afore they assailed him. Dread crawled up Roi’s spine as he turned towards the pen whence they kept the horses. He could put her upon Ewen’s fierce steed…

  Roi ran full force into two brigands.

  The child gave a blood-curdling scream when she was torn from Roi’s arms. A violent shove landed him upon his back where a solid kick to the ribs stole his breath. The newcomer unsheathed Roi’s sword and, for an instant, he thought the man would end him right then. Instead, both he and the cur holding the child hastily stepped back, joined by two more who emerged from the tree line.

  Roi rose to his knees, holding the girl’s frightened gaze, gesturing with his hand for her to wait whilst he addressed the brigands. “I have no coin to give to ye but there be two steeds in the stay. Take them, I merely wish to have the girl back.” Roi hoped the foul beasts would soundly trample the thieves.

  The man closest looked down upon Roi with great scorn. Roi did not raise his arms in time to fend off the blow that caught him in the side of the head, once more knocking him flat upon his back.

  “We answer not to a godless man,” he spat afore moving away.

  Nigh the cottage came a roar so great the air shivered with the force of ire behind it. “Roi!” Ewen’s yell was guttural, Roi’s name barely understandable.

  Blinking the spots out of his vision, Roi rolled onto his stomach, rising once more to his knees, facing the cottage and a furious Ewen. He stormed towards Roi, the sword Roi had earlier placed upon the table clutched within Ewen’s fist. With a steady hand, Roi wiped at the warm blood that flowed down his brow.

  Ewen’s roving amber gaze took everything in with one sweep afore pinning the men with a stare that promised painful redress.

  “Brigid.” A growl punctuated her name.

  The girl cried harder. “Forgive me, Da.”

  Ewen replied not. The men Roi had spotted about the side of the cottage stalked forth with quiet stealth, Ewen aware not he had been flanked.

  “State your business afore I bring ruin down upon your heads for the strife you have brought unto my kin.” Ewen’s grip upon the naked blade flexed, the first sword Roi had belted to his hip resting upon his thigh. All Roi had was but a knife tucked within his belt.

  Roi glanced over his shoulder. “We be here to deliver a missive to Ewen mhic Friscalach,” claimed the one holding Brigid.

  “Spit it out, man, and get on with it,” Ewen prodded, his anger barely held in check.

  “There be a price for defiance, toisech of Raineach. Slay the pagan and yer daughter shall go free. If ye choose, again, to stay yer hand against the heathen, the price shall be yer daughter’s life.”

  Roi sensed Ewen’s rage, his visage contorted with violent fury. Slowly Ewen’s face hardened, becoming unforgiving, yet when he glanced at Roi, despair shadowed the depths of his eyes.

  “It has become a habit, you kneeling at my feet, Priest of Cerridwen.”

  Roi said naught, instead glancing apurpose at the men stalking Ewen, praying Ewen would behold and understand.

  “This day be not turning out as I had foreseen. You, upon the other hand…” Ewen hefted the spare sword he had declined to wear yet had grabbed off the table afore he left the cottage. “I place my trust in you,” Ewen added in a soft voice.

  “The Mórrígan sent eyes to behold the field of battle,” Roi replied just as quietly.

  Ewen raised his gaze, finally noticing the ravens. “Then we shall bestow unto her a fight worthy to behold.”

  Ewen stared over Roi’s head, his dead eyes deceiving as Bear pushed forward, trapped natheless ready to unleash the berserker rage Ewen was known for. Ewen had worn the very same countenance when he faced Roi on the field of war at Renfrewshire.

  Grasping the sword double-fisted, Ewen raised the steel above his head until the tip of the blade pointed to the ground behind him. Roi grasped the dirk at the front of his belt and withdrew it. His relaxed as he locked away all thought, all feelings, searching for the centre of calm from whence he floated, and awaited Ewen’s next move.

  Ewen’s face flushed with strain as he hurled his blade as he would an axe. The instant the sword left his fingertips, Roi surged backwards, rolling arse over head to come to his feet next to the man holding Brigid. The brigand stared wide-eyed at the sword sticking out of the chest of the man next to him. The ravens took flight, filling the air with their cawing as Roi tore Brigid from the cutthroat’s grasp.

  “Run!” he yelled at her, not stopping to make sure she heeded his urging.

  Roi thrust his dirk into the throat of the first man who had held her, any command he would have given lost. The brief instant of shock passed and the other two men burst into movement. Roi swung his left fist at the man skewered by Ewen’s sword. He stumbled back, and Roi grasped the sword hilt, planted his foot in the man’s blood-soaked chest, and shoved to dislodge the blade. The brigand fell to the ground in a heap, the light of life fading quickly from his eyes.

  Afore Roi brought the blade up, a backhand caught him across the temple where he had been kicked. Stumbling back, Roi’s vision turned vague and spotted. Half blind, he spun and brought his blade up to narrowly fend off the blow hammering down upon him.

  He fought like a man possessed. After so long alone, Roi now had family, kin, to call his own. Ewen and his daughter counted upon him, and Roi refused to fail them. Woe betide the man to lay hand upon either. An earlier glimpse told Roi the cottage door, open when Ewen exited, was now closed and hopefully barred. He espied no sign of Ewen or the two sneaking manslayers.

  Dropping low to the ground, he sliced the cords at the back of the third foe’s knee. The leg no longer able to hold the man aloft, he tumbled to the ground with a wail of agony. Afore Roi caught his balance, a well-placed kick to his hip caused his own leg to buckle and Roi fell to one knee, warding off a thrust afore grabbing the fourth man by the stones with his free hand. With naught but menace upon Roi’s heart, a sharp pull and twist caused the villain to drop his sword. Roi’s next slash gutted the man.

  Blundering to his feet, Roi kicked the fourth man in the chest, pushing him to the ground as he feebly strove to keep his insides from bursting forth. The one Roi had crippled by slicing through the meat at the back of his leg sought to crawl away. He glanced furtively over his shoulder at Roi as he weakly clambered away, his visage a mask of fear.

  The calm about Roi shattered. The ravens continued to circle, calling loudly to each other. Fury flooded Roi’s veins, pushing away the lethargy dragging at his weary limbs. Roi stalked towards the would-be murderer, kicking him in the shoulder to roll him onto his back. The cut-throat glared at Roi with open malice.

  “Pagan,” he spat. “Yer soul shall burn in the bowels of hell.”

  “I serve a goddess. Keep the fires of yer underworld for yerself.” With all his might, Roi buried the sword in the man’s chest. Either Roi’s foot slipped in blood or his legs gave out, Roi knew
not which, but he landed upon the ground, heaving for breath.

  The ravens quieted yet continued to circle like a black cloud in the sky above. The would-be murderer Roi had gutted moaned piteously. Roi needed to end his misery and then track Ewen. He prayed Ewen stayed unharmed.

  Wiping the blood from his face, Roi breathed through the spinning of his vision. Roi grasped the hilt of the sword that protruded from the man’s chest, intending to use it to help him rise, when the flock of ravens landed all at once, a thick, ebony blanket spread around Roi in a wide, unbroken circle. The silence became thick and heavy. Roi halted, waiting for what would come next.

  A low, growling chorus rumbled, rising in volume until the air shivered with the angry noise. Almost two dozen mathans of varied shapes and sizes came forth from the tree line, their heads hanging low to the ground, gazes trained savagely upon Roi. He let go of the sword hilt and awaited, his weapon clattering to the ground. He would not raise his hand in defence, not against Ewen’s kin.

  The mathans circled scarcely outside the flock of ravens, each roaring and lunging. That the birds scattered not at their presence confounded the mathans. One lost patience, striving to breach the line of the ravens only to be swarmed and assailed by a half dozen birds intent upon driving him back. The mathan yowled as if he had been stung, which served only to incite the others who all began to press into the circle of ravens, intent upon reaching Roi.

  “Nay! Halt!” Brigid’s pale face twisted with fear as she ran from the doorway of the cottage to Roi. The ravens parted smoothly, allowing her through untouched. She barrelled into Roi’s side, nigh knocking him over as her arms wrapped about his neck. Roi held her the best he could as she buried her face in his neck and cried.

  The mathans backed away. “Donn? Arailt?” One of the assembled mathans had to know of him. “One of ye search for Ewen. We were assaulted, and he be in need of a strong arm.” Roi could not bring himself to feel ashamed of the pleading tone in his voice. He burned to know Ewen’s well being, yet if he left the safety of the ravens he would be slaughtered.