Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Theon's nightmares stayed away when Briana was in his arms.
He did not dream of that day a decade ago when the world crumbled. In fact, he did not dream at all, finding true rest for the first time in ten long years, only a vague sense of peace and happiness as his companion. His dreams, at last, were free of smoke and blood.
Until a horse's scream jolted him awake and the acrid smell of burning overwhelmed him.
He jolted awake, coughing as he bolted upright.
The cabin was filled with smoke, flames licking the walls, and screaming just beyond the door.
The smoke. The blood. It had left his nightmares behind, but as his blood ran cold and the heat flared around them, Theon understood that it had followed him into the waking world.
His heart clenched, and for a moment he was eighteen years old again, coughing and choking and crying out his brother's name.
Standing over the body of the father who had loved him.
Scorching his skin as the world crumbled to dust.
"Theon!" a voice echoed in his ear. Hands clutched at his arm, shaking him. A heavy, hacking cough was followed quickly by, "Come on!"
When his mother died, she'd been buried by the sea, just as she'd wished.
He thought that Laura, Keir's mother, would have liked that, too.
His father had wanted to be interred beside his own father and grandfather and generations of MacKenzies before him.
But neither Laura nor Laird MacKenzie had gotten their wish.
There had been no bodies left to bury once the fire had finished raging and the castle had been razed to the ground.
There'd been nothing left of them but a tarnished memory and two broken boys without a home.
"Please, we have tae go!" the woman's voice urged.
He could taste the smoke as it clogged his lungs, but he couldn't move. What would be left of him when the fire consumed him? Who would remember him?
"Theon!" Briana shouted. "Please! Ye must fight. We're alive—we need tae stay that way. Fight!"
The desperation in her voice snapped him back into the present.
He turned, wild-eyed, to see her kneeling beside him on the bed, coughing hard in the thick dark smoke that now curled through the cabin.
It would only be moments before the entire small building was consumed.
She should have left, but she knelt on the bed, trying vainly to drag him along.
He would not let her burn. He'd let the world burn first.
Jumping to his feet, he grabbed Briana's hand and the two of them rushed to the door. Loud voices mingled with screams and shouts, and one voice rose above all the others in strong, unwavering command.
"Destroy it!" the leader ordered. "Kill them all if ye have tae! Bring me sister back tae me, even if ye need tae burn this whole forest tae the ground."
Theon was wildly thankful for the rain earlier in the day.
It might be the only reason they were still alive now, slowing down the flames enough that they had time to escape.
But as he turned to say as much to Briana, he saw that she had turned ashen, more gray than pale, and she was staring at the door with wide, horrified eyes.
"Iain…" she whispered.
Thunderstruck, Theon understood. Iain. Iain Cameron, the brother, the son, the heir to the lairdship of the Cameron Clan. He'd come personally to retrieve the lass.
Was it a rescue?
Or was he simply here to return his father's property back home?
He remembered Briana's empty threats, which seemed like a lifetime ago now, when she'd warned him that her brother would come after them. How strange to think that those were the lies that could come true.
"Will he listen tae reason?" he demanded, facing Briana and taking her by the arms. "Or is he yer father's man?"
She hesitated, and the fear and pain that crossed her expression were enough for him. His soul darkened and he knew he had only one option.
He crushed his mouth against hers in a deep, desperate kiss that tasted of smoke and ash and goodbyes. "When we escape, ye must run. Flee as fast as ye can. Dinnae look back."
Briana's eyes widened. "Nay!" she protested. "I'll go naewhere without ye. I'll—"
"Ye'll go!" Theon commanded, though it was undercut by the desperation in his own voice. "Ye must," he added, softer now. "Please. I cannae survive if ye dinnae. Run. I will find ye. Nae matter what, I will find ye. Trust me."
She met his gaze, those fierce gray eyes bright even clouded by dark smoke, and nodded. They tried the door, but it refused to open. With a roar of anger, Theon kicked hard, again and again, until the wood splintered and the door fell away.
They tumbled into the night air, but little relief awaited them. The sky was burnt orange, the taste of death and flame thick in the wind.
He pushed her toward the trees. "Run!"
She paused, just for a moment. "I love ye," she whispered, then she was gone, swallowed by the smoke and the branches, disappearing from his sight like a ghost.
Theon yearned to follow her, but instead he reached for the sword that still waited just outside his cabin. It was hot to the touch, blistering his skin, but he barely felt the pain as he moved to the center of the little clearing that had been his home.
Two of the cabins were entirely gone, and the third was entirely consumed by flame, his own not far behind.
The stable had been destroyed, two horses lying dead on the ground, blood pooling hot and sticky as it boiled in the mud, and the others nowhere to be seen.
Their supply shed was ransacked, Cameron men moving around it as they took whatever they could before they set it ablaze as well.
Rage coiled in Theon's chest. He had seen all this before, and it had almost destroyed him then.
For the second time in his life, a Cameron had brought fire and death to his home while he slept in his bed.
He walked slowly through the camp like a man spellbound, allowing his sword to drag on the hard stone, screeching, announcing his presence with every step. This time, he would not run away.
In the center of the camp, right at their cookfire, he found his brothers.
Graeme was bleeding badly from a wound on the side of his temple, while Noah's eyes were blackened and his nose probably broken.
Both knelt, knives at their throats, death only seconds from taking them as their captors stood over them.
Keir was nowhere to be seen, and Theon fervently prayed that the younger MacKenzie had gotten as far away as he could.
Iain Cameron stepped forward before the two prisoners. Theon would have recognized him anywhere, even if they hadn't met all those years ago. He looked like Briana, but twisted with hatred and rage, a malicious scowl on his face.
"Last chance," Iain warned softly. "Where is yer leader? Where is Theon MacKenzie?"
"I'm here," Theon called. Iain whirled to face him. "I'm nae hidin'. Come and get me."
Iain smiled without humor. "At last." He took a step toward Theon. "I'll make this simple. Bring me sister tae me now and I'll make their deaths quick.
"Those two?" Theon asked, nodding toward Graeme and Noah. "Nay. They'd rather die in pain than accept yer mercy. I'm sure ye remember as much about Noah, at least. There's a reason he chose tae live in exile rather than fight by yer side."
Iain bristled. He raised a hand, but Theon pressed on before he could give the order.
"Ye want me, Cameron. Here I am." He spoke in a tone of cold, measured calm. "Fight me like a man. Kill me if ye can. But ken one thing."
Iain narrowed his eyes, moving slightly closer. "What?"
Theon smiled with ice in his veins. "Ye'll never hurt Briana again."
Fury flared in Iain's gaze and he roared, launching himself toward Theon. "I gave ye a chance!" he snarled, raising his sword. "Now ye'll die, and when I hunt down yer bastard brother, he'll die too! Ye'll burn in hell together!"
Theon raised his sword to parry the blow, relief surging through him.
They didn't have Keir. Keir was alive. At least, when this was all over, his little brother would live on.
He bared his teeth in manic fury, slicing down with his own sword with such force that it was all Iain could do to defend himself.
"If hell's what waits for me, so be it," Theon replied as Iain staggered. He raised his sword again. "But I'll be damned if ye're nae already waitin' when I get there."
He launched himself forward. As one, Graeme and Noah moved, twisting against their captors, throwing their injured bodies back into the fight.
Chaos erupted around them, the dancing flames creating a hideous stage.
Steel clashed and clanged, echoing throughout the night, sparks flying from a battle that was ten years in the making.