Page 119 of Luthias

“Emery, watch now. You must guide me to him when you see his hand.” Callum splashed her with water as embers fell on her head. “Do you see?”

“Yes.” She pulled the Carack laird over to where Luthias had braced himself, and watched as he found his footing.

“You must let go the dagger and make me your ladder now, lass,” he told her. “Feet on my shoulders. Quickly now.”

Emery thought for a moment that she couldn’t let go, but the water was dropping faster and smoke had begun pouring into the pit. The blue orbs they had dropped now glowed green in the water. Luthias stood trapped at the bottom, unable to get out unless she did. For a moment after she let go she floundered in the water, but then she swung herself onto Callum’s upper body. He lifted her up until she could get her feet in place, and then braced her hands on his head to push herself upright.

Stretching her arms up to reach the edge of the pit, she bit her lips, for the stones above her felt red-hot. Her water-logged clothes dragged at her as she hauled herself up, but fear and love gave her strength. As soon as she pulled herself out she saw all the walls sprouting flames, and the roof overhead looked ready to collapse. Somewhere outside she could hear men’s voices shouting, one of them Camdyn’s.

“Hold on,” she called down to Callum. Covering her nose and mouth with her sleeve, she grabbed one of the rope coils, tying one end around the center roof post before tossing the rest down into the pit.

The Carack laird finally appeared, pulling himself hand over hand out of the pit. As he dragged himself out he coughed and eyed the roof before turning and taking hold of the rope. Emery realized he was pulling Luthias out and went to help him. At last her lover’s hand grabbed the edge, and then Callum took hold of him and hauled him out the rest of the way.

“Emery.” Luthias wrapped his sodden tartan around her head and shoulders and held her close as he looked all around them. “Callum, over there, by the front wall. ’Tis a hole.”

“Aye, that I see.” The Carack laird jumped back as the loft platform fell and crashed over the pit, filling it with flaming debris. “Run.”

She reached out and grabbed Callum’s hand. “We leave together.”

Callum raised a forearm over Emery’s head, as the MacRoss pushed her between them. Luthias threw an arm across her back, using the other hand to knock away pieces of flaming wood. As they reached the wall, the light from the fire allowed Callum to see what looked like a hole was actually charred wood. Luthias drew his sword and hacked at it, but the wood planks were thick, and the gap he was making would be large enough only for one. He glanced up, and heard the death groans of the roof as it splintered and sagged.

Within a few moments it would collapse on the three of them.

For nine centuries Callum had lived without love. He knew where his was now. More than anything he wanted to go to her, and comfort her. She had died a terrible death, perhaps because of him. It didn’t matter why she had run from him. He needed to go to her now.

Time seemed to stop as he wrenched Luthias around and pushed Emery into his arms. “Do right by her, MacRoss, or I shall return and haunt you for eternity.”

Using all his strength he shoved the laird through the narrow gap he had made in the burning wall, sending him sprawling with Emery on the ground outside. A beam fell an instant later, blocking the gap.

Timbers fell around Callum as the roof collapsed. The coldness that had kept him from loving Athdara had gone, as had the sense of worthlessness that had plagued him for centuries. He lifted his burned arms and tilted back his head, accepting the end he had chosen, just as his sire had centuries past.

“I loved as you did, Father, with a cold heart.” He smiled as the flames burned through the last of the supports, and the huge burning roof fell toward him. “Mayhap ’twill be different for Athdara and me in the next life.”

No pain came with death for Callum, only peace.

Chapter Seventeen

After sending a message by white dove, the MacRoss laird had crossed over the boundary and ridden alone and unarmed up to the very gates of Dun Deigh. Every Carack in the stronghold had come out to watch as Luthias dismounted and then carried Callum’s body, wrapped in a black and white mourning tartan, up to the portcullis.

Struan met him there with all of his chieftains, who handed off their torches to the guards and took Callum’s body from him to carry him inside.

“Your brother saved me and my lady,” Luthias said. “’Tis a debt I shallnae forget.”

He could draw his sword and collect on that debt this very moment, Struan thought, although he doubted the other man would even flinch. It was the sorrow in his pretty eyes that angered him.

“My thanks for bringing my brother home, MacRoss,” he said, offering him a deep bow of genuine respect. “Now get off our land.”

Watching Luthias walk away gave Struan time to compose himself for what would follow. Every member of the clan would enter the great hall to pay their last respects to Callum, and bow to him as the chosen successor. Yet in the hours that followed all Struan heard was the crackling of the flames in the hearth; fire that warmed the cold stone walls but could never touch him. The last of the warmth in his heart––his unwavering love for his older brother––had turned to ice, it seemed.

I’ve become the cold bastart you ever believed me to be, Callum.

At last only a handful of men lingered, as if uneasy to leave him alone with the body.

“Burned by fire, and returned by the prince of fire’s spawn,” Tavish said in a low, almost gloating tone. “’Twould seem the MacRoss declare war against us by murdering our lord.”

“Our watchers saw the laird just before that barn collapsed,” one of the patrollers said uneasily. “He pushed the MacRoss and that wench through the wall of the barn.”

“Or they fought, and the MacRoss backstabbed and left him behind to burn,” a guard countered.