Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Inside the hidden passage he’d taken from the forge to the great hall, Rory waited and listened.
He could hear others moving around inside the big chamber, but none of them spoke.
As quietly as he could he went to the stairs that led up to the blind that Lady Ava used to watch meetings between the laird and the MacBren.
Below in the hall, clansmen, vassals and some of the outsiders milled about, sometimes bumping into each other as they searched the hall.
A maid tore down a tapestry, which fell over her, and continued to search although she couldn’t see anything.
More enchanted males and females filed in, but once they saw the others they turned about and left again.
He stiffened as he sensed someone come up swiftly behind him, only to relax again when Torra MacBren’s spirit swirled around to hover before him.
She only took possession of his body to permit him to rest without allowing him to talk in his sleep; this to protect the stronghold from the lethal power of his voice.
Now, however, she merely floated in front of him, or perhaps she too was looking down at the spectacle of the mindless searchers.
Rory stretched out his hand in invitation, and the mist engulfed it. At once Torra began speaking in his head.
Your brothers and vassals, they’ve been bitten by enchanted spiders.
The poison in their venom, ’twas altered so they might turn mortals and immortals into zed.
They’ve bitten nearly everyone in the stronghold now.
I locked Chieftain Darro and his lady in the solar to protect them as I tried to find Lady Grace.
The healer and his husband, they’ve barricaded themselves in his workshop along with a maid.
Some watchers and guards that escaped the garrison hall before the creatures found them now stand atop the tower roofs and put to the torch the spiders who climb up there.
For what do they search? Rory asked.
My spirit. Bodach came inside the spell trap in the guise of a mortal, and commands the zed to find me.
He thought quickly. If the enemy took Torra into himself, he could then remove her from the spell trap, take her power and use it to possess another immortal body, leaving his true form as an empty shell.
All he would need to do then was break the enchantment, allow the backlash to destroy his original body, and then flee the mortal realm for Elphyne.
Can you come into me, lass, but permit me retain control of my thoughts and body?
Aye, but ’tis different when you sleep. If I stay more than an hour your spirit shall be forced out by my presence. Then you shall truly perish, Armorer.
I trust you, Torra MacBren. Come then. Rory spread his arms as her spirit surrounded him, and then sank into his flesh.
While asleep he never became aware of the spirit coming into and possessing his body; as she entered him he endured a wrenching torment unlike any he’d known.
It seemed as if another form had been planted inside him, and now stretched and grew into his limbs and head.
He became aware of just how ancient her spirit was, and the potency of her magic.
Torra could end him with one thought, and inhabit his immortal body forever without anyone being the wiser.
I dinnae betray my friends, nor steal bodies. When ’tis time to part from you, I shall go without complaint or regret. Just as your lady màthair did.
She knew everything about him, Rory realized, as she was inside his mind as well as his body.
She could see all his memories stretching back to the very beginning of his existence; she understood exactly who and what he was.
That was like taking a blow from one of Chomha’s murderous kin, who liked to carve the heart out of a victim’s chest and hold it over an altar to the dark gods while it yet beat before they burned it.
Apologies, lass. At least she was not screaming in horror. I never wished anyone to discover the truth of my bloodline, or what ’tis made of me.
You’ve fought long and well, Armorer. You’ve made a man of yourself, ’tis all. I see naught you should ever regret. Now, we must go up and help those on the rooftop. Can you find the path there from here, or shall I guide you?
I ken the way. When Rory stood, however, weakness came over him like a cold fever, and his legs shook with the effort of straightening. How much longer can you remain with me?
No’ as long as I reckoned, Torra admitted.
He trotted through the hidden passages, stumbling now and then before reaching the panel that allowed him to access the watch tower.
He opened it just enough to look out and see one of the patrol captains using a torch to burn a stream of tiny black spiders that were pouring through a crack.
Rory stepped out, took down another torch and went to help him burn the creatures, which glowed reddish gold before trickling like molten pitch down the stone wall.
“They’re everywhere,” the captain told him. “My lads, they’re atop the roof. We stand watch in turns and burn those that try to come in.”
“The spiders, they’ve no’ yet found their way into the hidden passages.” Rory came out of the tower room in time to see Darro and Esme hurrying toward them. “Call your lads down, Captain. We’ve another battle to fight.”
Bodach stretched lazily as he reclined in the big, throne-like chair in the laird’s chamber.
Mirry had been right; the enchantment was too busy to kick him out.
Finding the bottle of very old cognac in the kitchens had been his reward for his patience; the stuff tasted like Louis the Thirteenth without the sixty-thousand-dollar a bottle price tag.
The primitive food here could hardly do it justice, but he’d take pleasure from that as well.
For now he was king of this place, and it was oddly satisfying.
Just call me Laird Bodach.
There was a great deal to be happy about now.
His latest scheme had worked, and his very helpful new army would soon find Torra MacBren’s hiding place and capture her in one of the soul globes he’d enchanted and distributed to his zed.
Then he would gobble her up like a tasty meal and walk out through the barrier with nothing more to fear for the remainder of his existence.
Just thinking of how easy it would be to conquer the light and dark Fae courts made him chuckle and take another sip of cognac.
“You shall never prevail over my brothers,” a tired voice said.
Bodach looked up to see Laird Tasgall McKeran carrying a soul globe.
He approached with the shuffling steps and slack-jawed visage of a zed, but eyes that burned with awareness.
For a moment the sight made him uneasy, for under the sway of the spell, the Scotsman should never have been capable of any act but what Bodach had commanded of him.
“My dear laird, you surprise me again. How are you able to speak to me?” He thought for a moment. “Ah, that’s right, your mother was that officious little slut who chased after Keran like a rock star groupie. How many of you did she spawn while she was his whore? I cannot recall.”
The big man stood powerless, his gaze seething with loathing.
“’Tis snowing outside. Winter has arrived three moons early, and the days and nights are speeding out of order.
Your spell, ’tis unraveling. How shall the magic come back to you when ’tis shattered, Goblin?
You’ll possess no time for more games with us when you face such fury. ”
“Thank you for worrying about me, my lord,” Bodach said, wishing he could kill something in this godforsaken place by thought instead of fire. “Once I acquire my treasure, I shall return to conquer Elphyne and destroy your miserable realm.”
“Enjoy your wee victory now,” Tasgall muttered. “For soon you shall face defeat and misery as you’ve never ken.”
“Yes, yes. If it makes you happy, keep deluding yourself.” He made a shooing gesture. “Now get back to work.”
Once the laird trudged out, Bodach decided to visit the kitchens, where earlier he had commanded the Cook and her wenches to prepare him food.
The women worked like robots, their movements abrupt and graceless.
What dishes they made they slopped onto platters and into bowls as if they meant to feed them to livestock.
“How is this a fine meal, Doon?” he asked the tall, ugly cook. “It looks like pig fodder.”
She didn’t reply, but like the laird she had raw hatred in her eyes. It seemed the poison did not entirely take over the emotions of his zed; he would have to complain to Mirry once he returned to the outside world.
“You should regard your master with respect,” he chided as he took the knife out of Doon’s hand, and poised the tip just under her eyelashes. “If you can’t, I might assure you can never look at anything ever again.”
The hatred melted into fear, making him chuckle.
“That’s better. Throw out this unappetizing shit and make something prettier for me.” He put the knife back in her hand and walked out into the gardens.
The head gardener, an old man whom he had commanded to search the outbuildings, hobbled over to him. Covered in loose straw and dirt, he appeared to have fallen and broken one of his legs.
“You searched the stables?” Bodach asked. When the old man nodded, he looked past him. “Show me where you fell.”
An arrow flew in between them and buried itself in the ground a few steps from where he stood. When he looked up he saw a line of archers preparing to fire from the rooftops.
“How the hell did you escape my darlings?” Bodach scowled, and then yelped as another arrow grazed his sleeve, cutting into his flesh. Gripping his arm, he ran back into the kitchens and barred the door before examining the growing blood stain on his tunic. “And how did you wound me?”
He grabbed the knife from the cook again and cut open his sleeve, revealing a deep gash that glittered with greenish-brown residue.
The arrow that had struck the glancing blow had possessed a head carved from Fae-enchanted stone, which was impossible.
The McKeran might have Fae blood, but they could not wield magic.
No full-blood Fae had been caught in the spell trap; Bodach would have sensed them at once.
So where had they gotten the enchanted stone to make such weapons?
He recalled seeing the armorer place a carved rock on a threshold, one he’d assumed had been a druid spell stone. What if Rory McKeran had a supply of stone that had been enchanted by Fae?
“Come here,” Bodach shouted, and all the women in the kitchen stopped working and trudged over to gather before him. “Go to the rooftop. Find the armorer and bring him to me.”