Child of the Mist (39 page)

His apprehension rising, Iain took the steps of the keep with long, quick strides. It was too quiet in Kilchurn. That more than anything else worried him.

The Great Hall was empty save for the cook, Maudie, descending the stairs from the sleeping chambers. She carried a covered tray. Iain stalked toward her. The woman jumped when he touched her arm.

"M-m'lord!" she gasped, raising tear-reddened eyes. "II didna hear yer approach."

"I'd wager not, Maudie." Iain grinned at her. "You were sniffling so loud, you wouldn't have heard a band o' reivers galloping through the hall. Pray, what has upset you so?"

"Dinna ye know, m'lord?" She sighed. "Nay, I suppose not. Ye've been gone from Kilchurn since the Campbell's illness and L-Lady Anne's trial."

Iain gripped Maudie's arm. "Trial? They sent Anne to trial? When?"

"Yesterday, m'lord. And she was condemned a witch."

"Damn them all!" Iain snarled. "Where is she now? In the dungeon?"

The cook's eyes filled anew with tears. "N-nay, m'lord. They took her but a half-hour ago to the village commons to burn her at the stake."

"What?" The incredulous shout reverberated in the silent hall. "And where is Niall to let this happen?"

"U-upstairs in his bedchamber." The woman sobbed. "He's too weak to go to her aid. The lord has been so very, very ill."

"I don't give a damn how ill he is! If he's conscious enough to speak even a few coherent words, he's going with me to the village!"

He wheeled and ran across the hall, taking the steps to the bedchambers two at a time. Panic churned within Iain and he was hard pressed to hold it at bay. Anne was even now at the village commons. Without Niall's presence as clan chief to halt the burning, there was no way to save her.

Niall blinked in the late-morning sun. He felt rested, stronger . . . and hungry. His glance swept the room, finally alighting upon a rounded feminine figure bent over the hearth stirring a pot. He smiled.

"Annie?" he croaked out the name, startled at the hoarseness of his voice. "Is that you, lass?"

The woman at the hearth straightened and turned, ebony hair tumbling down about her shoulders. It was Caitlin. Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother, struggling to raise himself up in bed.

"Niall?" she cried. "Och, thank the Lord! You're better. You've finally left your stupor!"

She ran to the open door separating his and Anne's bedchambers. "Agnes! Agnes, come quickly! 'Tis Niall! He's awake at last."

Agnes hurried into the room. The old maidservant eyed him closely, then turned to Caitlin, drawing her aside. Niall frowned but, try as he might, he couldn't catch a word of what the two women were saying.

"What are we going to do, Agnes?" Caitlin demanded anxiously. "The first word out o' his mouth was Anne's name. How are we to tell him that, even now, she's probably burning at the stake? The news will surely set him back, if not kill him on the spot."

"Och, Lord." Agnes sighed. "If only I knew. I suppose we'll"

"How much longer will you two women be?" Niall grumbled from his bed. "While you talk, I hear my stomach groaning for want o' food." He glanced hopefully at the hearth. "What's in that pot? Some soup mayhap?"

Agnes inhaled a shaky breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded. "Aye, m'lord. A moment more and I'll dish ye up a bowl o' hearty beef broth."

She turned to Caitlin. "Let him eat first. He'll need the strength to bear what we have to tell him."

The girl nodded.

Gathering her skirts, the old woman bustled to the fireplace. She soon had a spoon and steaming bowl of soup laid out on a small tray. She gestured impatiently at Caitlin, who stood rooted to the spot where Agnes had left her.

"Come along, lass. Pull up a chair at yer brother's bedside and feed him his soup."

"I can feed myself," Niall growled, reaching for the tray that Agnes brought. "You'd think I was helpless as a babe to need such coddling."

Agnes surrendered the tray to Niall and shoved Caitlin down in the chair the girl brought over. "Sit with him, nonetheless. He'll soon tire."

It took only a few spoonfuls. Niall leaned back against the pillows but stayed his sister's hand when she reached for the spoon to feed him. "Nay, lass,"

he said. "Give me but a few moment's rest. I
will
feed myself this entire bowl if it takes the rest o' the day."

The rest of the day lasted about another five minutes. When he found himself exasperatingly wearied by the attempt to lift another two spoonfuls to his mouth, Niall grabbed the bowl and downed its entire contents. That effort drained him of his remaining strength. He fell back, pale and damp-faced. A triumphant smile, however, twisted his full, firm mouth.

"And, sure, yell be one scoundrel o' a patient," Agnes muttered under her breath, "and no mistake."

"I heard that, Agnes," Niall rasped, his eyes still closed. "Except for the voice, you sound just like my Annie."

Caitlin shot her an anguished look.

The door to the bedchamber slammed open, and Iain entered. "Damn you, Niall Campbell! While you loll about at your leisure, Anne soon burns at the stake! Get out o' that bed before I drag you out. You're coming with me to halt her execution or I swear I'll kill you!"

"The hell you say!". Niall roared, jerking up in bed. "What are you talking about?" His narrowed glance swung to encompass Agnes and his sister. "What is Iain talking about?" he demanded in a dangerously low voice. ''Where the hell is Anne?"

Caitlin blanched, her mouth moving wordlessly. Agnes, however, took the matter firmly in hand. " 'Tis as he says, m'lord. While ye were ill, your tanist and the Reformed preacher forced yer lady to confess to witchcraft. She was tried yesterday. Even now, she is about to burn."

Niall swung his legs out of bed. "And when were you to tell me? After her funeral?"

A wave of dizziness washed over him. He sucked in a steadying breath. With a superhuman effort, Niall fought it off, then glanced back at the women. "Get out o' here. Bring some men to help me down to the stables and have my stallion saddled. lain," Niall summoned him, "help me dress and be quick about it. There's not much time and I've little strength to spare."

The next few minutes were filled with a flurry of activity. Two sturdy clansmen carried Niall down the stairs and out of the keep, then helped him mount his horse. He swayed precariously for a moment, then righted himself. Iain swung up onto his own mount.

"Are you sure you can stay astride?" the younger man asked, a dubious look in his blue eyes. "Mayhap twould be better to ride behind one o' the men."

"Nay," Niall muttered, his face white, his lips clenched. "I must appear strong and sure when I arrive there. And I will, if 'tis my last act on this earth."

He signaled his horse. The animal sprang forward, across the cobblestoned bailey and out the main gate. lain stared after him for a second, then urged his mount on. Niall's black stallion was fast, the finest piece of horseflesh in all of Campbell lands, and lain was soon left behind.

Niall didn't know when he lost lain and wouldn't have cared. All that mattered was that he reach Anne before it was too late. If he didn't, Niall didn't know what he'd do. He'd kill Malcolm for sure and most likely Duncan, too.

Malcolm was witch-crazed, obsessed with his single-minded persecution of any he suspected of the black magic. He'd never burn another person on Campbell lands, though. He'd likely not live long enough after today. And Duncan as clan tanist, acting in Niall's stead while he was ill, could have well prevented Annes burningif he'd wished to. Why hadn't he?

The answer was too painful to consider, especially now when he needed all his strength to face what lay ahead. Niall urged his horse to its utmost limits as they topped the hill leading to the village. From his vantage point as they galloped down the other side, he could see a large crowd gathered around the stakeand the smoke pouring from the fagots piled around it.

Rage, white-hot and searing, surged through him. Strength, far beyond the capabilities of his weakened flesh, filled him. Blood pumped to his hardened muscles. His lungs heaved for air.

The wild, fierce battle lust to fight to protect what he loved was Niall's only consideration. Raising a fist high over his head, he thundered into the village, the harsh Campbell battle cry on his lips. "Cruachan!"

The people scattered before him. Niall slid to a halt at the base of the stake. A ring of fire and smoke encircled Anne. He could barely see her.

He leaped from his stallion and ran, flinging the flaming wood aside with his bare hands. With a few quick slashes from his dirk, Niall freed Anne.

She fell into his arms. With a strangled sob, Niall gathered her to him and quickly carried her out of the fire.

Iain was at Niall's side in an instant more, his sword drawn. Together, the two men faced the crowd.

"Is she alive?" Iain asked without taking his eyes off the restless, churning mass of people.

"I don't know," Niall replied, his own gaze never wavering as he watched Malcolm and Duncan stride toward them. "I pray to God she is or your father dies this day, along with our bastard uncle."

"And you, too,' Niall Campbell," his cousin shot at him through clenched teeth. "I warned you about this very"

Anne moaned, then coughed, moving restlessly in Niall's arms. Her eyes fluttered open. "N-Niall?"

He glanced down at her. "Aye, lass. Tis me. Now hush. Save your strength."

She sighed and again lost consciousness.

The preacher and tanist halted before them.

"You have defied not only the laws o' God, but o' man," Malcolm screamed, ensuring all assembled heard him, "when you freed the witch from her just fate! Put her back, I say! Let the burning be finished!"

Niall took a menacing step forward. "Get out o' my way, you black-hearted fiend! If you utter one more word, I'll cut your foul tongue out, then burn
you
at the stake!"

The man blanched. "And what crimes have I committed?" He gestured toward Anne. "She, on the other hand, has confessed, been tried, and sentenced. Tis the law that she die."

" 'Tis true, nephew."

Niall turned to face his uncle. "And what were her crimes? Were they so horrible you couldn't have waited until I recovered?"

"She'd bewitched you! Only her burning would free you o' her spell. 'Twas better not to wait."

Tawny-brown eyes, glittering and hard, glared back at Duncan. "Tell me her crimes! Now!"

Duncan's gaze skittered briefly to that of Malcolm's. "She admitted to being the Witch o'Glenstrae and that she'd brought a dead babe back to life."

For the longest moment Niall stared at his uncle, incredulity widening his eyes. "And for
that
you had her condemned? You're a fool, Duncan Campbell! Get out o' my way! I'll deal with you later."

As Niall turned to go, a big, burly villager stepped forward to block his way. Niall's gaze lifted to meet those of the taller man. "Will you prevent me from leaving with my lady, Fergus?" he asked, his calm voice belying the coiled tension of his body. Beside him, Iain lifted his sword.

The peasant vehemently shook his head. "Nay, m'lord. Far from it. But ye look near to collapse yerself and I'd offer my strong back to carry yer lady to yer horse."

Niall and lain exchanged glances.

I thank you for your loyalty, Fergus," Niall rasped, "and for the courage it took to stand up for Anne."

" 'Twasn't courage, m'lord. 'Twas good Scot's sense after what yer lady said. To heal others 'tisn't an act o' sorcery. And ye
had
condemned burnings on Campbell lands."

Niall smiled. "Aye, that I had." He stepped forward to lay Anne in the big Highlander's arms. "I'd be honored if you'd aid me with my lady."

Fergus's weathered face broke into a huge grin. "Thank ye, m'lord." With that, he turned on his heel and faced the crowd massed before them. "Get on with ye!" he bellowed. "The day's entertainment is done. The Campbell is recovered and come for his lady. Do any o' ye dispute his right to do so?''

"Nay, Fergus!" a woman cried.

"Not I, either!" Angus, the stable man,' stepped forward. "The lass healed my wee Davie's hand. She's no more a witch than any woman here."

"Then out o' my way!" Fergus roared as he plowed forward.

The people parted before him. Niall and Iain followed. Once Niall was remounted, Fergus carefully handed. Anne's limp form to him. Iain gained his own horse's back. Without a backward glance, they rode out of the village.

Behind them, Malcolm's enraged cries suddenly shattered the quiet. "You're bewitched, that you are!" the preacher shrieked. "You've defied the law and must be punished! You're not fit, Niall Campbell, to be clan chief!"

Niall was past exhaustion by the time they returned to Kilchurn. It was all he could do to hand Anne down to Iain without dropping her and he did fall himself, when he dismounted. Two clansmen were there to catch him, then carry him up to his bedchamber. Iain followed behind with Anne.

The men lay Niall down on his bed. When Iain made a move to carry Anne to her room, Niall halted him.

"Nay." He motioned his cousin back. "Bring her here. She'll lie by me. I don't want Anne out o' my sight until I know she's recovered from this."

Iain scowled but obeyed. He lay her on the far side of the bed and was quickly pushed aside by Agnes.

"Caitlin, see to your brother's needs," the old woman ordered.

While Caitlin hurried to Niall and began tugging his smoke-stained shirt loose from his trews, Agnes rolled Anne onto her side. She began unfastening her scorched dress then paused, as if suddenly aware of her audience. Agnes raised her eyes to scan Iain and the two clansmen.

"Out with ye, lads. 'Tis woman's work now. We've no need o' your prying eyes."

"I want to stay," Iain protested, "until I know she's truly recovered."

"You heard Agnes," Niall growled from the bed. "As soon as Anne's settled and wakes, I'll send for you."

Iain eyed him with frank suspicion. "I've your oath on that?"

Niall shot him a thunderous glower. "Aye. Now get out."