Chapter 5 #2
As he stalked off, the moss enveloped all of the ruined body, turned black, and then sank into the ground. A trill of vicious laughter seemed to bubble up from the pit of sludge it had left behind.
Knowing the attack on the stronghold would result in injured clansmen, and unwilling to depend on the time trap’s malfunctioning enchantment to heal them, Dr. Benedict Miller grabbed his medical case and headed out of the infirmary.
Halfway to the great hall a shorter, fair-haired hunter came running toward him.
“I cannae find our woman,” Ulf said, his jaw locked and his eyes filled with panic. He held a dagger ready to use in his fist.
“Calm down, love.” He put his arm around his broad shoulders. “She agreed to meet us in the hall during the attacks, remember?”
“She agreed before she turned her back on us,” the hunter said, his tone sharp. “Now she may go anywhere. Even to him.”
“Don’t be such a worry wart,” he chided gently. He loved Ulf for his passion, but sometimes he could get a little crazy with jealousy. “She knows how much we’d be worried about her. She’s probably waiting for us there right now.”
As they walked together through the passages Ben kept his arm around him, hoping that would reassure him. He also noted some of the male vassals who passed them smirking or looking away, as most disapproved of them, so he began talking to keep his future husband from noticing.
“All of my herbal medicines reappeared just a few hours ago, so I started making every tincture and salve I could remember.” He lifted his bag. “I’m now fully stocked against everything that can possibly go wrong now.”
Ulf made a rude sound. “You didnae cook up a potion to heal the spell trap, or kill the MacBren.”
“Give me a little more time.” Ben couldn’t violate his physician’s oath by harming or killing someone, but the clan’s enemy wasn’t real.
The magic holding them imprisoned recreated Turo MacBren, who had been murdered with his wife in the twelfth century shortly before the clan’s castle had been sieged and then cursed.
The construct of the enemy laird had been coming to the McKeran’s stronghold to demand that Tasgall marry his daughter for over nine centuries now.
He was programmed to keep returning and doing everything just as he had during the year before the clan had been cursed.
“If we could somehow persuade the MacBren to give up trying to force the laird to marry Torra, then that could break the spell trap,” he said. “What do you think—Ulf?”
The hunter had stopped and glared ahead of them. “Facking bastart. He’s come to brace us.”
Ben followed his gaze to where Kelso McKeran, one of the clan’s guardsmen, stood talking to two other warriors.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ben said quickly. “We agreed we wouldn’t mess with the guy until we patch things up with Els.”
“I dinnae mess. I fight.” Ulf jerked his chin in the guard’s direction. “And he comes.”
The other clansmen left as Kelso strode toward them, his smile growing insultingly wide as he looked at the arm Ben still had around his lover.
“Well, now, lads, dinnae you look merry together.” He stopped and eyed the hunter’s grip on his dagger, and wrapped his fingers around his sword hilt. “Or mayhap you’re no’ so happy now that I’ve stepped in your path. Why then? I mean you no harm.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ben told him, matching his smile. “Please keep your opinions to yourself and walk away now.”
“You misunderstand me, lad. I’ve no quarrel with your desires. Indeed, I wish you much joy in each other.” His mouth flattened. “All I ask, ’tis you dinnae involve my woman in your bed sport. She’s refused you, I’m told.”
“Actually, she’s refused all three of us,” Ben had to point out.
Ulf shrugged off his arm. “Husband, go to the hall now. I shall meet you there shortly after I deal with him.”
“Not on your life, pal.” Aware that the hunter and the guard could do considerable damage to each other, he stepped between the two men.
To Kelso he said, “You don’t want to get into this with my guy.
All it will bring is more trouble for you.
Since someone or something is attacking the castle, why don’t you go help your clan defend it? ”
Kelso leaned close enough to kiss Ben. “You’re wiser than you seem. School your wee lad, and soon, or I shall.” He swung around and walked off, whistling.
“No.” As Ulf surged forward he caught his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t you get it? He’s trying to provoke us into a fight so he can kill one or both of us. That way he’ll have her all to himself. He might even tell the laird that we started it.”
“He cannae kill us if he first loses his head,” the hunter muttered, his fist clenching on his dagger’s hilt. Then, all at once, he stopped resisting and pressed his face against Ben’s chest. “I cannae bear such any longer. We must save our wife from that facking brute.”
“Elspeth will not go to him. She’s told him it’s over between them. She loves us.” He stroked a hand over Ulf’s fair hair. “We’ll go and talk to the laird after the attack is over. We’ll ask him to call a special binding ceremony where we can marry each other.”
The hunter sighed. “Make that happen, Benedict, soon. I beg you.”
When they reached the great hall a few minutes later Farlan had already set up a makeshift infirmary with a cleared table, basins of hot water and plenty of clean linen, but only a handful of men with minor wounds waited.
With Ulf’s help Ben was able to quickly treat and bandage them, at which point they brandished their weapons and strode out of the stronghold.
“Is it really wise to send them back to fight?” he asked the clan’s seneschal. “Can’t some other men take their places?”
“We’ve more than three dozen slain during the fray,” Farlan told him.
“The faceless bastarts dug their way under the walls and attacked from the inner bailey, just as they did during the MacBren’s siege—only he’s no’ come with them.
The rest of our garrison they’re trapped inside the hall.
Just before the attack all the facking arches and doors became walled up with mortared stone.
Until they’re freed, none may be spared. ”
“Just when you think this place can’t get any crueler, it does.” He rubbed his eyes. “All right, what more can Ulf and I do? Can we help? I can swing a pickaxe as well as any of the clan.”
“My thanks, Healer, but you’re needed here to see to any more wounded.
” The seneschal regarded the hunter. “You’re the best bowman among the mortal men here.
Would you go to the gallery above the lists?
We’ve the last of our archers positioned there, where they may target the greater scope of the bailey. ”
Ulf nodded. “Take care of my husband, McKeran.”
Seeing his lover leave tore at Ben, but if the faceless creatures got inside the castle they would kill as many clansmen and vassals as they could.
Like machines, they didn’t stop until they were slain.
Because they only vaguely resembled humans they couldn’t be bargained with or frightened away.
They’d just keep coming until everyone inside Dun Talamh’s walls died and disappeared.
“Dinnae fret, Healer,” Farlan said to him. “Your man, he’s a bowhunter, and too quick to be caught unaware.” He clapped him on the shoulder and then went over to two clansmen carrying trestle benches in from the outer passage.
As Ben tidied up his treatment table he saw Elspeth appear in one of the arches. She looked tired, and her little muslin cap sat crookedly on her head. He wanted to rush over to her, but he couldn’t help remembering what she’d said the last time he and Ulf had seen her.
I refused Kelso. I refuse you and Benedict.
He settled for smiling at her before he went back to work wiping the table. He knew the moment she started to walk toward him, stopped and then spun around and fled the hall.
“I know how hard it is, love,” he said with a sigh. “I’m right there with you.”
Grace finished her head count of the female vassals and went to the great hall, where the laird and his senior men had gathered to listen to the reports from the men who had engaged the faceless attackers.
She went first to Farlan, who put his arm around her as he continued listening to the watch captain’s account.
“We found nine tunnels dug beneath the outer and inner walls,” the captain said, his expression grim. “I’ve ordered them filled in, but ’twill take some days.”
He didn’t say that was due to more than thirty of his men being killed, but everyone knew the reason.
“Flood them with water instead,” Tasgall told him. “’Tis quicker, and ’twill end any attacker hiding inside them.” He looked around the gathered men. “Who then discovered that water now slays the creatures?”
“That great red-haired lass who just arrived, my lord,” one of the patrollers said. “Aye, and she closed the tunnel breaches in the gardens, although I cannae tell you how.”
The watch captain nodded. “I saw as much from the battlements. Chieftain Darro’s lady fought at her side. She may better ken what the lass did.”
That ignited a dozen muttered conversations while the laird consulted with Alec.
Grace knew the men were grateful to Harper, but also uneasy about how she could have turned the tide of the battle so quickly.
She turned to say as much to Farlan, who was watching her with a slight smile that still made her knees go weak.
It was the exact same look he gave her when he came into their room and dropped the bolt bar at night.
“Don’t do that,” she scolded. “I have to report that all the vassals are accounted for and uninjured, and then go and help Doon calm the maids and tidy up the kitchens. I should probably go and check on Harper, too. You, sir, have to wait until later to get me naked.”