Celtic Spirit (Celtic Storm Series Book 4) Read online

  “I canna’ tell it all to ye’. Ye’ must learn it for yerself’, but until ye’ find love and learn to love another completely and selflessly, ye’ will not find rest. The Ancients and Guardians will decide when.”

  “But how long, Lass?”

  Turning from him, Caitlyn said, “Time is not marked the same in this realm so I dunna’ know. Ye’ will know her when ye’ find her. Ye’ will be put to the test. Ye’ will have to sacrifice greatly for her. And then, only then, will ye’ be judged again.”

  “Where can I find this woman? How do I speak to her?”

  “When ye’ find her, if yer’ heart is open, ye’ will need no words. I have not been given all ye’ need to know. Ye’ will have to learn it through time.”

  “But how long will I be…like this?” With her back still to him, she said, “Prepare yourself. When ye’ are ready, ye’ will know.”

  “Lass, ye’ canna’ leave me like this?”

  Turning back to face him a final time, Caitlyn pinned him with a look of pity.

  “Ye’ left me to die, Derek Campbell.”

  “But Lass, ye’ are a better soul than I was…dunna’ leave me like this.…”

  “I can no longer stay. Yer’ journey is begun.”

  “But the woman…the one who will save me…where do I look for her?”

  “Ye’ are impatient, as always. Ye’ will find her…or she will find ye’, but it may not be in this time. There is much to learn before that. Time, Derek Campbell is what ye’ have now. Use it wisely.”

  “Time? Lass…wait….”

  But as he called out, Caitlyn vanished in the mist. Time; how much time? What was he supposed to do now? The panic that filled him was more excruciating than the pain that had recently wracked his body.

  ~~~~~

  Bronwyn saw the Old one making her way slowly into the keep. There was blood on her hands. Bronwyn ran to aid Morag and she said, “What happened? Are ye’ hurt?”

  “Nay, Lass. There was an accident and I was trying to help. I am fine.”

  Bronwyn looked at Morag closely. There was something amiss; something the Old One was not saying. She looked tired and was moving slower than usual. Taking her arm, she said, “Come, sit by the fire and warm yerself’. I will get ye’ something to clean your hands.”

  “Yes, thank ye’.”

  She sighed heavily. With that sigh, Bronwyn knew that Morag was not able to help the person who had been hurt. She turned and said, “Who was it Morag? What are ye’ not telling me?”

  Settling her old bones into the comfortable place by the fire, she suddenly seemed small and frail. She patted the hand of her beloved Bronwyn and she said, “Dunna’ worry, child. All of yer’ kin are fine. It was a Campbell.”

  “But Brielle…”

  “Aye, Brielle was a Campbell. I will need to tell her soon enough. T’was her brother. It was Derek.”

  Distress registered on the beautiful face of Bronwyn Brandham. She had no great love for the Campbells but she knew that Brielle had no one left but that renegade brother of hers. She worried that her brother’s wife who had become one of her dearest friends would take the news deeply.

  “What happened?”

  “It seems he…had a fall. From a high perch in a tree.”

  “Were ye’ able to help him?”

  “He was broken badly, Lass. He is in the hands of the Ancients now, I am afraid.”

  Bronwyn nodded in understanding. That explained the shift in the atmosphere she had felt! She straightened and went to bring a bowl of water and a washing cloth to Morag so she could clean Derek’s blood from her hands. She carefully took the Old One’s hands in her own and she rubbed them between her fingers. Bronwyn was more concerned with easing the arthritic pain that seemed to plague Morag more and more these days. She loved the old woman like her own mother and she hated to see her growing frailer over the years. When she was done massaging the stiffness from the Old One’s fingers, Bronwyn cleared her throat and said, “We should prepare his body for burial. It is the least I can do for my sister, Brielle.”

  Morag’s eyes glimmered with a brightness that seemed out of place for one so old. She smiled affectionately at the young woman who had become her acolyte and student of the Ancient Ways. She said, “No need, love. The Guardians have him and will care for his mortal body now.”

  There was still so much that Bronwyn had to learn. She was not certain she fully understood what Morag meant. As her eyes deplored Morag to explain, the old woman said, “Sit beside me. I will try to explain.”

  Bronwyn sat next to Morag and took her hand back between both of her own. Her fingers were already cold, so Bronwyn rubbed warmth back into them. Morag drew in a labored breath. She did not know what would become of Derek, because she left him in the care of the Guardians. He was still fighting the gift that had been granted to him. It was up to them now to convince him. She said, “I pleaded with the Ancients for him. There are forces that we cannot always understand. Derek is going to need to decide to embrace good or all will be lost for him. His time is no longer here. If he chooses to allow this second chance to be granted to him, the Ancients will decide when and if he can reclaim his mortal body.”

  With her Christian proclivity, Bronwyn still questioned some of the ancient ways. She said, “I dunna’ understand….”

  “T’is no different than what ye’ call angels, Lassie. Things are possible, but ye’ have to just open yer’ heart to them. Just believe that he is safe now and it will be up to him to decide the fate of his mortal body and his immortal soul.”

  Chapter 5

  Derek wandered to a shaded spot beneath the copse of trees that bordered the keep that had once been his home. He kept thinking this was all just a terrible nightmare. He went back to the place where he had fallen. He looked up at the tree and saw the limb he had been perched upon, now gruesomely hanging, splintered like the bones in his body. His body was no longer beneath the trees. The MacCollum hag must have seen to its removal. He touched his arms again, digging his nails into them and he was amazed he still had sensory perception. He most definitely could still feel pain. He wondered what unholy thing they could do to his mortal remains. He did not have long to ponder upon that when the image of his stepmother stood before him. Just as he was convincing himself it had all been a dream, the specter of his stepmother jarred him to the reality of his altered existence once more.

  “Stepmother…Arianne…is it ye’?”

  “T’is I.”

  Derek sighed. He already knew what this one was going to show him. He said, “While my arrow may have been the one to land in Caitlyn McLeod’s chest, I know I dinna’ spook the horse that threw ye’. That was solely my brother’s doing.”

  “Do ye’ remember nothing else about that day, Derek?”

  “I remember Roderick spooked the horse to frighten ye’ only ye’ were thrown and landed, dashing yer’ head on a boulder when ye’ fell.”

  “Think back to that day. It is so. Roderick was the cause of my horse frighting and rearing. Have ye’ no memory of my last words to ye’?”

  Derek had blocked that from his memory, but now as his stepmother Arianne stood before him, it all rushed back to him. His brother had taken off the minute he saw the blood pooling underneath Arianne’s head. Derek had bent down to see if she was still alive and as he leaned closer, Arianne’s eyes opened, pinning him with a gaze that had implored him for help. Her lips worked, trying to say something to him. Derek had put his ear close to her mouth and she had said, “Take care of my little girl. Dunna’ let yer’ brother abuse her.”

  Why hadn’t he remembered that before? Why had he forced that from his mind? Those were the last words his stepmother spoke and yet he never thought on them again. Not only did he let Roderick abuse Brielle, he had aided in tormenting her. While he never really laid a hand on her, he added to her misery. He also never tried to stop his brother from doing unspeakable things to her, just as he had never tried to stop R
oderick from spooking Arianne’s horse. He had never stepped forward to tell what had actually happened to Arianne the day she died. He never tried to do what was right from that day forward. He never protected the young Gabrielle, his half-sister, from the sinister things Roderick was capable of. Roderick had cut Brielle in a drunken rage, nearly ending her life, and Derek had stood by, and done nothing to prevent it. It left Brielle with a scar she carried, even still to this day. As he looked back at Arianne he was assailed with the image of her dying and as her blood seeped from the wound at the back of her skull, he saw himself as he had been, when he was still just a lad of only fifteen years. He remembered running after Roderick and Roderick pummeling him to the ground, warning him that if he ever told the truth he would receive a far worse fate than a spooked horse ride.

  “Even if ye’ never told the truth about what happened that day, why did ye’ not protect yer’ sister? She was just a little girl and ye’ allowed that evil bastard to torment my baby!”

  Derek hung his head in defeat. She was right, of course; about all of it. Even though he was only a young lad himself, he had known better. He should have told the truth. He should have protected his little sister from the evil Roderick was capable of. He remembered the last time he had seen his sister; that day in the clearing when he had found her in the arms of her MacCollum lover. He had been so angry at her for her part in Roderick’s death and for her disloyalty to Campbell. Then he remembered the way she had stood up for herself, finally gaining the strength to put an end to the reign of terror he and Roderick had inflicted upon her. He remembered he felt momentarily remorseful for his part in her suffering. That was until the MacCollum laird and his son Shawn had given him that humiliating beating. They left him sprawled in the dirt, moaning in pain after delivering a final kick to his middle. He forgot any remorse at that moment and fostered his hatred for all things MacCollum, including his sister. She had become one of them and he despised her for it.

  Arianne spoke again and she said, “Ye’ disgust me, Derek Campbell. Ye’ have never risen to the good and done the right thing. I dunna’ know why the Old One has pleaded for yer’ soul, but plead she did. She saw something deserving of hope and redemption. I do not agree with her. Ye’ will get no help from me.”

  “But ye’ are a Guardian…”

  “I am not. I am just the memories of what ye’ chose not to do. My daughter, thankfully has found love in the arms of yer’ enemy. He has washed the pain and sorrow from her life; sorrow ye’ were quick to give her. For that I am grateful. As fer ye’, I care not if ye’ ever find yer’ way.”

  “Lady, I am sorry. Ye’ are right. I should have been more of a man and tried to help.”

  “Help? Ye’ jollied in the torment of my daughter. All I asked in the end was fer’ ye’ to protect her and ye’ refused a dying woman’s wish.”

  Derek opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words to be found to make amends for what he had done that day and every day thereafter.

  “Ye’ died plotting to hurt the MacCollums still. If the tree limb hadn’t given away, what evil would ye’ have done this day? Would ye’ have kidnapped the young nephew and niece of yer’ sister for yer’ cause?”

  How would she have known that was his plan? He hadn’t even formulated it fully to plot the course.

  Turning a baleful eye toward her stepson, Arianne said, “I know ye’, Derek Campbell. I know that evil binds yer’ heart with hatred and selfish gain. I will appeal to the Guardians and to the Ancients that if ye’ are to have redemption, that ye’ should walk this plain for more years than ye’ can imagine. I curse ye’ Derek Campbell. What ye’ did not know, when ye’ did not learn about me, was that I, too, was schooled in the Ancient Arts. I curse ye’ Derek Campbell, to walk this plain not living or dead. May yer’ road be long.”

  “But…I thought ye’ were sent to help me.”

  “Remind me why I should be kind enough to do that? My life was taken untimely and I did not have the chance ye’ are being given. Instead, I pleaded for mercy for my child and ye’ showed none. My “gift” to ye’, Spawn of the Unholy, is that ye’ shall feel. That ye’ shall still have the needs of the carnal body, but with no mortal body, have very little way to satisfy them. Every time ye’ suffer, remember at least one of the cruel things ye’ did to my child and be reminded of my gift to ye’. With each want or yearning, remember how my child wanted tenderness and compassion and remember ye’ gave her none.”

  “Stepmother…please.…”

  Arianne turned back, glaring at her stepson with something very akin to hatred. She said, “Dunna’ address me so. In life ye’ respected me not. It means nothing to be called such, now.”

  “Arianne, I am sorry for that day. I did no’ wish ye’ to die. I was terrified…I was just a child myself.”

  “Aye, but ye’ grew, Derek Campbell…into a strong and powerful man and still ye’ did nothing to right the wrongs of that day so long ago.”

  “I did nothing. T’is true. I should have protected Brielle. I wish now, more than ever, that I had. I canna’ undo the past, Arianne. I can only plead for yer’ mercy now.”

  “It is not up to me to show ye’ mercy.”

  “Then what can I gain from this chance if I have no way to redeem myself?”

  “I do not know the plan of the Guardians.”

  “Then tell me, how can I right these wrongs?”

  “Ye’ cannot! It will be yer’ task to seek out wrongs to right from this very day.”

  “But how can I with no corporal body? How will I be able to....”

  “Others will aid ye’, I suppose. I will not.”

  Derek felt an icy chill pass over him as he watched his stepmother walk from his sight. She did not float or evaporate as Caitlyn McLeod had done. She just ventured down the shaded grove until she was no longer visible. That seemed ominous to him. He stood staring down the pathway and suddenly felt afraid. No amount of pain or suffering would prepare him for this uncertainty. He was not a man easily frightened, but the fear seemed to envelope him, piercing him to the depths of his stomach, that was, if he had a stomach. Still he felt it like a palpable thing and it terrified him. Derek was pretty certain he did not like that feeling at all. The impending dread filled him and he considered again complete and total death. He tried to forget the agonizing pain that had spread through him as the alternative, but that too, niggled away at his conscious mind. No, there was no other way, but to face what was now set as his course. He hoped it would be sooner than later, because patience was never one of his fortitudes.

  ~~~~~

  Derek wandered about, not really knowing where to go. Despite the loss of what he knew to be his life, he felt tired. He had to come to grips with the misdeeds of his life and it had been daunting to say the least. When Gavin Campbell had shown himself, Derek had to face the many ill deeds he had been responsible for. In the thirty odd years that he had walked his path, he had been responsible for the pain and suffering of countless men and women. Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he wondered how he had ever come to this point. Gavin was an honorable man. Yes, his father was a weakling with no gumption or backbone, but Derek had spent more time under his grandfather’s tutelage than his father’s. How had he forsaken all that Gavin had taught him for the life he had turned to?

  Gavin’s lessons were hard in life and even harder in death. The spirit of his grandfather showed him memories he had easily forgotten and happily so. Derek had become a monster. There was no denying it, now. He pondered that reality and thought he had not set out to be that deviant. When had he lost the ability to be part of the human existence? He had been little better than an animal.

  Gavin Campbell showed him unending things he had done without honor or care. Not only had he fought as a mercenary with allegiance and loyalty to no one, but he had hatched schemes that would cheat whoever had paid him the most coin. He had gotten so good at cheating, he was certain he would not know how to earn a fair wage i
f his life depended on it. Derek laughed ironically. His life depended on it…that was a good one.

  Gavin forced Derek to view more unpleasant aspects of his life. He had taken his pleasure on women, never caring if he caused them pain. After what his grandfather had shown him, Derek realized he had caused them pain more times than not. He had not thought of himself as a violator of women, but indeed, he was. Even if the woman had come to him willingly, he never saw to her needs and selfishly spent himself on her. That thought made him sick, for the lowest miscreants were sometimes reluctant to rape a woman. How many had he spent himself on? He was not even sure he could remember them all. With each memory he was forced to own at Gavin’s hands, Derek could feel the crumbling of his moral fiber as surely as it truly had in life. If he met someone of his ilk, he thought he would have killed the man to save humanity from one so evil.

  Then there was that; the killing of men. While Derek never murdered someone outright, he had killed plenty of men in battle. That was his only saving thought. Upon pondering it more carefully, though, he may as well have murdered men without a battle for he never rallied to a cause long enough to garner any loyalty or to show any fealty to a man, and often he fought the very men he had fought along side of only a short time before. It had been a very fine line from murder, to be certain.

  Derek wanted to believe that a man does not set out to be the aberration he had become. It was time he recognized the point in time when he no longer cared that he had become the monster he carefully created with each terrible deed he had honed and fostered.

  Derek was not certain how long he wandered since Gavin left him. As he pondered his plight he honestly did not think there was any hope for redemption. He could not imagine having any sort of chance. After he had reckoned with all he had done and had not done, he was convinced that despite what the Guardians had said or Morag had pleaded for his behalf, there was nothing that he could do or would be able to do to make right what he had done wrong. If he was lost in life, there was nothing to describe what he was or had become in between these worlds. He believed the ultimate cruelty was that he was offered some sort of chance to rectify the misdeeds of his life. There was no redemption. There would be no redemption for a man like him.