Chapter 6 #3
“Another alteration. We must somehow fathom what such means.” The laird frowned, and then his gaze shifted. “My lady, how fare our lasses?”
“They’re a little frightened, but otherwise fine.” Ava walked over to her husband’s side. “Excuse me for interrupting, gentlemen. I just wanted to listen in on today’s problems.”
“I’m glad you’re here, my lady,” Darro said.
“Before the attack I went down to the lower passage to look for the spider that crossed through with Mistress Martinez. ’Twas spinning a red-colored web that passed through the barrier and held it open.
” He described what he’d done to destroy the creature, and then added, “I saw someone on the other side of the barrier just before it closed. ’Twas an old, wrinkled male who stank of rot.
He matched the description Lady Olivia gave us of the male who attacked her and forced her to come here. ”
“Bodach,” Ava muttered. “What was he doing? Was he trying to shove someone else in here after the reporter?”
“Forgive me, but I couldnae see more than his scowl.” He grimaced.
“Only ’twas clear he schemed something that involved the spider—mayhap something to do with its web, as it cast a length of it through the barrier.
I destroyed it, and the web, yet I fear he may do more.
It seemed as if he attempted casting another spell just as the opening vanished.
” That made him go still, for it was a detail he hadn’t recalled until this moment.
“Did anything happen to you, Chieftain?” his brother’s wife asked.
“I dinnae believe so.” But it could explain why he feared Esme so much after the encounter, but not before.
“Place two guards at the entry to the spell trap at all times. Also, gather the other chieftains no’ on duty and bid them come to me in an hour.
Rory as well.” To the other men Tasgall said, “Captains, please spread the word about the spiders among your men. I shall bid Farlan do the same for the vassals. Bid the guards on duty carry torches at all times. Any spider seen anywhere should be burnt with fire.”
Darro left with the senior men, ignoring the resentment that seethed inside him as he made his way to the garrison hall.
Naturally the laird never considered what arming every person at Dun Talamh with torches would mean for him.
He’d spend the next days dodging everyone he saw so his mortal weakness did not draw the flames to him and set him on fire.
Of course Tasgall had to protect their brothers and the household against the creatures; he simply wished that his brother would for once remember that fire was his lifelong enemy.
“Chieftain.” Ava caught up with him and kept pace at his side. “Since everyone will be carrying torches I thought we should find a place to keep you safe, at least at night. What do you think about moving into the solar for the time being? You could help the guys in the watch tower, too.”
He stopped and regarded her., and fought to keep his tone respectful. “I’m the laird’s second, my lady, no’ a watcher. I cannae attend to my duties from the rooftops.”
“Alec could cover for you. I know I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but you’re my brother now, too.” She tilted her head, and gentle humor twinkled in her eyes. “I’m only fixing to help, really. Also, if you clench your teeth any harder you’re going to crack some molars.”
“My Fae blood shall heal them.” Not for the first time he saw why Tasgall had given his heart to this woman. “Dinnae worry about me, my lady. I’ve much experience with avoiding torches and hearths while attending to my brother’s orders.”
She nodded, touched his arm and then walked off toward the kitchens. He continued on to the garrison hall, where the other chieftains had already begun to gather in the big common room. Those with torches quickly placed them in wall sconces as each flame flared toward Darro as soon as he came near.
How like the clan to attend to me when Tasgall but forgets my weakness and doesnae dwell a moment on my needs.
“The laird bid us assemble in his chamber in an hour,” he told them.
“Make ready to report on your men, their readiness for the next attack, and notions on how we may face the new threats. Also, make sure to keep two guards posted at the entry to the spell trap day and night until I say otherwise.” He glanced at the torches before he added on a grim note, “For my sake remind our brothers to mind the flames when near me, lest I catch fire—for if I burn, I shallnae burn alone.”
The chieftains uttered wry chuckles as they dispersed, and Darro left to make his way to the forge, where he expected to find Rory working, but found it empty.
He went to the armory, but the big man wasn’t there, either.
It took asking three different guards before one reported seeing Rory enter the archives earlier.
Darro knew the armorer disliked reading, but suspected he’d gone for other reasons.
He hesitated outside the door before he cleared his throat loudly and walked in to find Rory watching images moving across the laird’s viewing scroll.
They showed Inga Holm, the clan’s former chatelaine, as she walked through the gardens on a sunny morning.
For a moment he stood and considered turning around and leaving, for the clan’s youngest member was yet in mourning for the lady he had loved.
“Chieftain.” Rory tapped the enchanted parchment, which went blank, and turned to face him. Two faint tear trails gleamed on his stunning face, which he wiped away without a hint of shame.
Unlike the other McKeran, the clan’s armorer had been raised in complete isolation deep in the forest, with only his lady màthair to keep him company.
From what he had told Tasgall he had been born the last of Keran’s sons; their sire had never lived to see Rory.
Likewise he had never met his other mortal kin, as his mother had become an outcast for bearing a half-Fae son.
Perhaps all of that created the air of strangeness he possessed and made many uncomfortable with him.
“What need you from me?” Rory said quietly, barely audible.
“Fireproof armor, if you’ve any.” He leaned against a table. “Enchanted spiders may be soon attacking the stronghold. Burning destroys them, so the laird has ordered all clansmen to carry torches. Alas, ’twill put me at risk wherever I roam in the stronghold now.”
“Any metal armor you done shallnae stop the flames, and instead shall cook you where you stand,” the armorer said. Because of his odd upbringing he also didn’t understand jesting. “You need protection of another kind. Come into the passage.”
Darro followed him out of the archive room, and then watched as Rory removed a stone from his pocket and held it in his fist. The armorer then retreated some distance before taking down a torch and holding it under his fist. The flames arched around his hand as if it were encased in glass.
“’Tis a druid stone bespelled with a shielding ward,” Rory said as he put the torch back and came over to show him his unburned hand.
“’’Twill but protect a small part of you, and no’ for very long.
I’ll need more if we’re to protect your entire body.
” He offered him the stone. “Only I dinnae ken where I might find more of the stones.”
Darro examined the etched gray rock, which had a brownish green tinge to it. “If we’ve any here Farlan shall ken. May I keep this one to show him?”
Rory nodded. “Bring them to the forge when you’ve collected twenty-one. That should prove enough.”
“My thanks, Brother.” Darro hesitated to ask him about the spell Bodach had been casting when the barrier had closed, but he needed to know if it was responsible for his unreasonable reaction to Esme.
“Do you ken if the Fae use magic on mortals to instill fear?” When he nodded, he asked, “Could you detect such on me?”
The armorer lifted his hands. “If I may?”
Darro nodded, and then went still as the big man’s fingers touched the sides of his head. The air between them took on a peculiar glitter for a moment, and then Rory quickly removed his hands.
“I sense traces of a Fae-cast spell clinging to you, but ’tis damaged, or mayhap incomplete. Be patient. In time the magic should dissipate.” He turned and went back inside the archive, where he rolled up the enchanted scroll.
Darro went in and watched him place the scroll back on a shelf. “Does watching the memory of the lady ease the pain of her loss, or deepen it?”
“Both, I reckon.” He smiled sadly. “Aside from Lady Grace, ’tis all I’ve left of her.”
“I hate to leave you to such.” He knew only one way to draw him out. “I’ve time before I must meet with the laird. Come and spar with me.”