Chapter 14

Torquil was waiting when Ewan eventually returned with the crone. Pacing from one side of the courtyard to the other, a look of triumph crossed his face when he saw the witch climb down from the cart.

"Come inside, come inside, Dam Gowdie. Ye will be well rewarded for yer help."

Dam Bel Gowdie scowled. "Ye did nae listen to me, Torquil. Did I not tell ye to leave Aberkin alone? The village possesses a magic more powerful than mine."

The laird scoffed. "Not anymore. I have the Talisman Warrior in me dungeons. One of the Immortal Brethren himself!"

Dam Bel Gowdie was very good at reading fortunes. She could predict whether an unborn bairn would be a boy or girl, tell if the harvest would be good that year, and count magpies in the sky to read the weather. And if a village lass asked the witch for a love potion, it would not be long before a prosperous farmer or handsome knight's squire felt his loins enflame whenever he thought of one particular lass in the village. Dam Cowrie's local knowledge was extensive, but even she had heard the rumors about a group of cursed men who were doomed to walk the Highlands until they found a way to settle their fates.

"And what does the Immortal himself have to say to ye aboot that?" the Dam wanted to know. "He will nae stand by quietly while ye drain his secrets from him."

Laird MacKenzie ignored her first question. "So, it is true! I can share his power if I drink his blood?" Torquil was paying no attention to Ewan now that he had the witch to talk to. He did not notice Ewan Cunningham listening to his plan.

"I'll gaze into a bowl of water and see what the sprites say, Torquil," Dam Bel said as she hobbled up the steps using her walking cane cut from the branch of an elm tree, "but first I'll need to take a look at the Talisman himself. Ye will be famous, Torquil. Ye will go doon in history as the first man to capture one of the Immortals and live to tell the tale."

Following her, the laird grumbled. "I dinnae want to be ruddy famous, Dam. I want to be immortal too."

"Patience," the witch said. Four of the guards followed the laird as he went down to the dungeons. "Shall we post night guards, Captain?" one of the sentries asked Ewan. Distracted and more concerned than he was prepared to admit, Ewan did not answer. Only when the sentry repeated the question did Ewan reply. "Och, aye…I mean, nay. Dinnae waste yer sleep. Post two men at the entrance to stand watch from ten bells past noon until six bells past midnight. The rest of ye can sleep."

Then Ewan pushed past and rushed down to the dungeons to see what Dam Bel Gowdie was saying to Arran.

The dungeons were bright with the light from torches. Two guards stood at the door and another two were on either side of the entrance to Arran's cell.

"Where is milady?" Arran growled to the visitors. Even without his sword or dirk, the mercenary was an intimidating looking man. He leaned against the back wall of the cell which made it hard for the light to reach his face. There was no way he could stand up straight because the ceiling was too low. Torquil wanted to know if the guards had left the mercenary's wrists bound, but he was too ashamed to make a point of asking them.

With his black hair falling across his eyes and the dark clothes he wore, Arran still posed a very real threat to anyone who came near him. He stayed in the shadows, refusing to come out into the light. It was easier for him to observe his new visitors that way.

"Och, yon warrior is more wild wolf than he is a man," Dam Bel cackled. Raising her voice, she shouted to Arran. "No amount of hiding can conceal the bone and blood I see ye drenched in, Highlander! Yer brother's bite shines in the dark. His mark lies heavy upon ye!"

"He has brothers?" Torquil said in a worried voice. "I dinnae want trouble from them."

The crone laughed. "Nay. I talk aboot the lone wolf in the woods. Yer talisman warrior standing there in the dark is wolf-bit. That white scar blazing brightly in the gloom is the sign of the wolf. The beast tasted his flesh and this man respects the animal's courage—he holds a certain kinship with all wild animals that roam the mountains in packs. As one who is doomed to walk alone, he envies the ties that bind many individuals who stay together in harmony."

Arran said nothing, neither confirming or denying the witch's statement. Dam Bel beckoned the guards to stand closer. "Shine a light on the night living inside him. Wait! He already has a light shining within." Smiling a toothless grin at Torquil, the witch turned to the laird. "The great immortal warrior is in love. I recognize the light of love burning brightly inside him. Is it possible that by the time the bell tolls midnight, it will be too late?" The witch was talking out loud, muttering to herself as she read the signs.

Clapping her hands, she barked out her orders. "Bring him into the great hall. I'll need the talisman for the spell and his sword to cut him with."

Torquil felt panic grip him. "What did ye mean when ye said ‘too late?'"

Tapping her staff up the steps as she prepared to leave the dungeon, Dam Bel replied. "True love is very powerful, Torquil. Perhaps ye might ken that if ye bothered to find yerself a goodwife instead of playing the cad. Tell yer men to go careful when they set him loose from his cage. He is a hard man to kill, as ye should ken."

"Where is his sword?" Torquil asked. Ewan and the other four guards looked at one another. Eventually, Ewan was the one to answer. "We locked him in the dungeons with it, Laird. I'll fetch the blade and bring it to ye in the hall." Ewan sauntered out. Arran noticed Colleen's brother look at him intently before stepping outside. It was a sign, almost as if the captain wanted the mercenary to know he was not in any danger.

Torquil edged toward the dungeon exit. "I'll leave ye to bring him up, lads. No need for me to expose meself to danger before Dam Gowrie has cast the spell for me."

The four guards chatted about the best way to subdue the Highlander if he tried to break free. They decided to use spears. "If he looks like a wolf and fights like a wild boar, the only way to control him is with spears." They all agreed. Three of the men held spears pointed at Arran as one of them opened the cell door. "Come on oot, lad," he said. "Ye've nowhere to run, anyhow."

Arran thought Colleen was still inside the castle. He could not bear the thought of her sacrificing herself in any way. He was no fool. He knew she must have struck a hard bargain with Torquil MacKenzie when Colleen did not come back to the cell.

In one fluid motion, Arran gripped the closest spearhead and pulled it toward him. Just as he had suspected, the guard was holding the spear shaft so hard that he came flailing toward Arran like a straw poppet. One headbutt and the man was down. Ducking to the side to avoid one of the spear thrusts, Arran used the shaft to block the other soldier's lunge. Two swift thrusting movements and the men were dead. That left the guard holding the door. He was running for the exit. Hefting the spear onto his shoulder, Arran threw it hard.

The escaping guard was skewered like a hunted boar. Screaming loudly, he fell back down the steps, landing at Arran's feet. Crouching down, he checked for breathing. The guard he had headbutted was breathing in short, shallow pants. Their bad luck was that they had been the willing henchmen of an evil man. If they had refused to bully peaceful villagers the moment their laird had ordered them to do so, they would still be alive. Before standing up, Arran broke the unconscious man's right wrist so he could no longer use a weapon.

Like a vengeful shadow, the Highlander left the dungeon and headed for the great hall. He would force Torquil to tell him where Colleen was if it was the last thing he did.

Ewan was not surprised when Arran entered the hall with no guards accompanying him. It was full nighttime now. The only light came from leaping flames in the enormous fire burning in the hall. Dam Bel screamed with laughter when Arran walked in alone. "The wolf rides at midnight! I ken whom ye seek, Master. Before ye go on that killing spree I can see ye are dying to do, remember that ye will never find yer love if ye kill Torquil!"

Torquil was so shocked when Arran casually sauntered into the hall alone that he almost ran away, but the desire to live forever and be immune to injuries was stronger than his fear. And besides, he had Ewan to back him up. He had always been able to manipulate the young Cunningham cub ever since his parents and twin sister died. "Ewan! Tell this lovestruck fool that the witch tells the truth! Colleen will die if he doesnae do what Dam Bel says!"

Ewan said, "Aye, Arran. Ye will never reach Colleen before the men have slit her throat. Be a good man and give up." But when the witch and Torquil were not looking, Arran saw Ewan give a tiny shake of his head to show he was lying. The young man was holding Arran's sword in his hands. The Highlander knew what Ewan indicated was true. Torquil had not expected him to walk out of the dungeon without guards. The laird's confidence and greed had been his undoing and now his impatience would do the rest.

Pretending to give up, Arran dropped the spear he was holding. "Och, ye ken I dinnae want Colleen to die. What shall I do?"

Dam Gowrie was staring at a bowl of water on the wooden tripod in the middle of the hall. The surface of the liquid was as smooth as glass. She seemed to be in some kind of a trance. "Hand me the sword," she mumbled to Ewan. "I must harvest his wolf-blood before the bell tolls twelve." Shuffling closer to Arran, she indicated that he must sit down; the witch stared deeply into his eyes. "I remember ye from when ye were here last time, Immortal. Only that year, ye were on the side of Torquil's faither. He was only a wee boy at the time, hardly auld enough to wield a sword. I was a fair damsel then, with hair of gold, but not even my charms could tempt ye into a bedchamber."

Arran heard Torquil gasp. "That was this man? It is impossible. It must have been nearly forty years ago and yet his hair is still black! I could nae have seen more than ten summers when that warrior saved me from the pirate's broadsword…"

The witch crooned softly under her breath. "It was him. He had been wounded many times, but it had no effect on him. We thought he was a berserker, mad with rage, but the tale of the talisman was the only explanation." Picking up the sword and holding it in front of her, Dam Bel tried to cut the pale scar the wolf bite had left on Arran's brow.

She frowned and stepped closer to inspect the mark. "Och, this is nae scar. There is nay skin covering it." Tapping Arran's brow with her knuckle, Dam Gowrie was amazed. "The whiteness is from his skullbone! And yet the gash has not rotted or caused him pain!"

"It causes pain," Arran said, "but the pain is nothing compared to the long days and nights I have had to endure on me own in the past."

"And how many years might that have been?" Laird Torquil asked, his hunger for eternal life easy to read in his eyes.

Arran sighed. It was too late to convince the laird that he was wishing for the wrong thing. "Hundreds."

All three people watching Arran in the hall sucked in their breath.

Torquil nodded excitedly to show the witch she must continue. Calmly, Dam Cowrie sliced Arran's forehead open all the way down to the bone above his eyebrow and then she let the heavy sword fall. The skin parted and began to bleed. Pointing for Ewan to step forward, she told him to cast away the water in the bowl and use it to catch the blood. "We'll have ye drinking his lifeblood in no time, Laird. There's only one thing left to do for the magic to work."

The witch smiled, holding her hand out to Arran. "Now, hand me the talisman."

"I gave it to Colleen," Arran grinned. "If ye want yer spell to work, ye better hurry. It's close to midnight."

Torquil screamed at Ewan. "Go get the wench! Drag her down here! Do it now! We must have that talisman."

"I dinnae ken where the guards put her, Laird." Passing the bowl of blood to Dam Bel, Ewan almost shrugged his shoulders at Torquil. "Call the servants to go get Colleen. I must staunch this man's bleeding when ye are finished with him. I promised Colleen that I would not let any harm come to him!"

"Ye fool!" Torquil screamed. "This man is a lethal foe. I will cut off his head at the neck once the spell is complete. See if he can heal from that—ha-ha!"

Ewan stared at the laird, shaking his head. "Did ye not just hear what Dam Gowrie told ye, Laird Torquil? This man saved yer life in battle. He was an ally of yer faither. Ye cannae kill him."

"If ye dinnae fetch that useless wench and bring me the talisman, lad," Torquil snarled, "I will have Aberkin burned to the ground!"

Amazed at how naive he had been, Ewan shook his head. "I'm not a servant. But I will be a good soldier and go and get a pageboy for ye. And that's the last foutering order I ever take from ye, Torquil!"

"Nay!" the laird screamed. "Don't let anyone in here. I dinnae want anyone to know the incantation or else they might try and do the same thing to me!"

"Hurry!" Dam Bel screeched. "Ye waste time with yer bickering."

The sound of tramping feet and the flicker of torches came from outside the great hall entrance. Like a swarm of angry bees, a loud murmur of voices could be heard approaching accompanied with the shick-shick of metal on metal as weapons were sharpened.

Almost laughing with relief, Ewan pushed the witch aside. He ran to lift the heavy bar holding the doors closed.

The bowl of Arran's blood spilt across the flagstone floor. Twenty MacKenzie soldiers ran inside the hall seeking protection from the mob outside. Handing the mercenary his sword, Ewan said, "Time to die, Highlander. The twelfth bell past midnight just struck."

"Help us, Laird!" The soldiers screamed. They ran to the back of the hall as Torquil rushed to bar the doors behind them. "There are nearly two hundred wrathful Aberkin villagers oot there and those useless mercenaries ye hired have all run away!"

"How could those craven village idiots have found the courage to attack?" Torquil was shocked beyond all reason, but he was so used to getting his own way all the time that he underestimated the seriousness of the problem.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, not bothering to salute. "Yon bonny healer lass ye had hidden in yer bedchamber somehow managed to escape. She found the rabble on the road and told them every bloody thing they needed to ken aboot the castle! The woman led them all back here, marching at the head of the pack. What are we going to do? They carry torches. They killed the gate guards. We will burn."

"Get us oot o' this mess, Dam Bel Gowrie," Torquil pleaded, "and I'll set ye up in a big house in the village."

The old woman gave him a toothless grin. "Yer only chance at that life ye are so fond of, Torquil, is to hold the mercenary for ransom. The healer lass will do anything to save him."

Seeing his chance, Ewan stepped up. "I'll go out into the courtyard and bargain with me sister, Laird." The sound of heavy pounding started to shake the barred doors, but Ewan continued bravely. "However, I will nae do it withoot the mercenary by me side. Y-ye have broken yer promise to me too many times for me to trust yer word anymore, Laird. Let me go and talk to Colleen—but I'll need Arran by me side for her to listen."

Torquil's obsession with control and immortality had warped his mind. "I ken what ye really want to do, ye dog! Ye want to take the Highlander away with ye so that ye can be the one to live forever and not me! Yer sister has the talisman and now ye want the mercenary." As he spoke, the laird began to withdraw his sword slowly, advancing towards Arran. "Grab the Immortal, lads!" Torquil screamed at the soldiers. "I will cut off his head rather than let anyone else benefit from his blood."

Not surprisingly, none of the soldiers stepped up. They had seen too many of their comrades killed by the wandering mercenary to want the same thing happening to them.

Arran began to edge over to where his sword lay next to the witch's feet, but Dam Bel gave a triumphant crow and kicked his sword across the floor. The blade rang as the hilt spun round on its axis. The weapon came to a rest against the pounding doors. With Torquil advancing on one side and the soldiers behind him, all Arran could do was try to run to his sword.

Laird Torquil was no longer the sweet wee boy Arran had saved from brigands sailing up the Loch Ness anymore. The man was fast and strong. Howling with rage, the laird ran at the mercenary with his sword held in both hands raised high above his head.

"Nay!" As Laird Torquil MacKenzie brought the sword down on Arran's back, Ewan gave a great shout and tried to stop the blow from falling between the mercenary's shoulders. The laird's blade sliced deeply into Ewan Cunningham's neck just as Arran reached his sword and picked it up.

One swipe of Arran's broadsword and Torquil joined Ewan on the floor. Ignoring the laird, Arran bent down to try and staunch the blood jetting out from Ewan's neck. The thick wooden bar shattered and the doors burst open with Colleen and all the MacMillan clan leading at the front. They saw Arran cradling Ewan's head on his lap and Torquil lying dead next to them.

"Look after me sisters for me, Highlander," Ewan gasped. "The time has come…"

The sound of swords being unsheathed and dropped to the ground rang out around the hall as all the MacKenzie soldiers surrendered.

Colleen stormed into the hall wearing a gambeson over her dress and with a pole axe in her hand. When she saw Ewan lying on the floor, she ran over. "Brither, Brither, are ye alright? So much blood…"

She looked at Arran, but the mercenary shook his head. Bursting into tears, Colleen cradled Ewan in her arms. "Ye will join our sister in heaven, Brither. This I promise ye."

Brother and sister smiled lovingly at each other until Ewan's eyes slowly closed. Shaking from her tears, Colleen found comfort in Arran's strong arms. He kissed the top of her head gently as she wept.