by Lexi Ander
The mathans rocked from side to side upon their front paws and Roi wondered if they might not understand him. He thought Donn had been able to in his mathan form, though he had never asked, only believed it to be true.
Two mathans broke from the group, lumbering towards the cottage as the others once again harassed the ravens. A bellow, louder than all the noise made by Ewen’s kin, came from behind Roi. He glanced over his shoulder, the strain leaving him as Ewen strode towards them. Roi placed a palm upon the back of Brigid’s head to keep her from beholding Ewen holding two severed heads by their hair. With an angry toss, the heads were hurtled at the mathans closest to him as he bore down upon them with great speed. Power from Bear rolled across Roi’s skin in a soothing tidal wave.
“Father!” Brigid slipped from Roi’s arms and ran to him, somehow avoiding the ravens as they launched into the air with a sudden cry and flew away.
Ewen caught his daughter up in a tight embrace. Roi searched Ewen for serious wounds, relieved when he discerned none. As Ewen approached, Roi slowly gained his feet upon protesting legs. Catching Roi under the arm, Ewen hefted him up and then crushed Roi to him.
“I beseech ye, let us return to bed,” Roi mumbled. Why had he been in such a rush to cross the mountain, again?
Ewen simply laughed and clutched him harder.
XXIII
EWEN FUMED. “All of you shall change right this instant! Explain yourselves. I dare say if I do not like your reasoning I shall—”
Roi’s arms tightened about him. “Ewen,” Roi admonished. “Be calm.”
Calm? Roi wished for him to be calm when his people, his kin, had been ready to rend Roi limb from limb? Ewen was convinced even Brigid’s presence would not have stayed their hand. Bear and Ewen were of one mind—an accounting would be made and reparations paid.
“Nay,” he snapped. “You carry my mark. By scent alone they would have known I had claimed you.” Ewen pressed his lips to Roi’s bloodied temple, eternally grateful he could do so.
“Make no hasty judgements when ire makes yer blood pound so,” Roi counselled, his voice relaying how tired he was. Brigid had stopped crying but continued to shiver in Ewen’s arms.
The mathans gathered closer, the scent of their apprehension thick upon the air. “Take care of the bodies. Glean what you can from them. I want to know who they be, from whence they came, and why they had my daughter. I also require fresh water to bathe, and only then shall I hear what you have to say.” Ewen met the stare of each mathan, letting it be known his ire had not abated.
Ewen guided Roi back to the warm familiarity of the cottage. Brigid fell asleep in his arms as Roi prepared one of the cupboard beds, devising a curtain from his cloak to separate her sleeping form from the rest of the room.
Pulling an ironbound chest from beneath the last cupboard bed, Ewen carried it outside and threw back the lid. Therein lay cloaks in his family’s colours. Ewen’s kin came forward and each selected a garment, hastily donning the cloaks, wrapping and belting them about the waist. Many buckets of water were brought in to fill a half barrel that was placed nigh to the hearth. Roi kindled a fire afore he stripped away his soiled and blood-caked garments. Ewen handed them, along with own his clothing, to his men. They knew without Ewen’s orders that he expected them to be cleaned and repaired if needed.
Ewen joined Roi at the hearth, providing a steadying hand as Roi knelt in the water. With a square of linen and a lump of soap, Roi allowed Ewen to wash away the grime and sweat and attend to his wounds. After Roi rose and was wrapped in a swath of clean linen, Ewen stepped in and knelt in the water. As Ewen cleansed away the evidence of battle, Roi rummaged through his satchel and began to mix something in a crock, placing the pot nigh to the fire.
By the time his men had completed their tasks, many had taken a dunk in the river, as evidenced by their clean faces and damp hair. Roi and Ewen were similarly clothed, cloaks belt about the waist, the excess thrown over the shoulder, whilst they awaited the drying of their raiment. The salve Roi had concocted finally cooled enough for Ewen to use, he put the stool nigh to his chair and bade Roi sit so Ewen could tend to him. The ointment smelled foul, but if it would help Roi heal Ewen would gladly bear the stench.
Ewen watched his kin from the corner of his eye as they gathered at the door, speaking in low voices to each other. The scent of their unease tickled his nose unpleasantly, but he ignored them as he tended to Roi’s open wounds. Bruises coloured his chest and lower ribs, and though the cut upon his brow had finally stopped bleeding, the skin around it and his eye darkened to a colour that would rival the night sky. And Roi’s cheek was puffy and swollen where he had taken a hard blow, likely more than one.
“Ye can stop growling.” Ewen allowed the warmth in Roi’s voice to soothe him. Somewhat.
“Report!” Ewen snapped, turning his back to his kin. Gazing upon them and beholding Roi’s injuries at the same time would only stoke his ire higher than it already was.
Feet shifted and scuffed the cold stone floor. Ewen threaded Roi’s whalebone needle and began to stitch the gash upon his brow, listening with half an ear about the raid upon the keep by sorcerers and brigands. The other part of Ewen’s awareness remained upon Roi, who sat stoically still as Ewen attended him. Ewen finished the stitching, six in all, long afore the telling of the raid concluded.
“I have every confidence in my brother. What I wished to know be why, when all evidence told you I claimed him, you persisted in your animosity against Roi.” Ewen swivelled in the chair and bestowed upon them the full weight of his glare. None ventured to meet his eyes.
After a long pause, one said, “He smells other. The sorcerers muddled our minds whilst the brigands snatched Brigid. For all we knew, he could have been in league with the scoundrels. M’lord, our only thought be yer safety.”
Ewen stared at the man brave enough to answer his question. The cloak used to shelter Brigid lifted and she climbed out of the cupboard bed, dark eyes wide, her hair coming loose from the single braid down her back. She glanced about the room, her eyes alighting upon Roi, and made a straight line to him through the gathered men. Ewen watched her pass him by to climb upon Roi’s lap.
“Brigid.” Her sleepy gaze met Ewen’s. She obviously gave no second thought to Roi’s harshly marred visage or the bold tattoos. “Why be you not afraid of Roi?”
She turned her gaze upon Roi. Ewen’s chest tightened to see Roi’s countenance soften when he glanced down at his daughter.
She looked at him as if he were the most gallant knight in all the king’s court. “Donn spoke of him, the man ye hoped would be yer marrae. When I first laid eyes upon him, my mathan and I were agreed. His scent speaks of home, a place of rest and safety.” She returned her gaze to Ewen. “I may be newly changed, Da, but this I know as clearly as I know the colour of my hair.”
Something crossed Roi’s visage too quick to comprehend, natheless, he dropped a kiss upon her brow as if he had spent a lifetime bestowing them unto her. Ewen returned his attention to his kin, quite done with their nervous shifting and poor excuses.
“Ewen.”
All Roi had to do was say his name the once to temper his ire. Mayhap he should deal with them when Roi would not be about. He understood what Roi cautioned him of, for how could one discipline another for a deed thought but not yet acted upon? Yet naught but the ravens had saved Roi from his kin’s intentions. If not for the birds, Roi would be dead by the hands of Ewen’s people. They knew this as surely as Ewen did.
“Since it seems we shall be spending another night here, you need to scavenge for provisions. We had naught else for the day, much less a repast for so many mouths. Divide up and go hunting. At the morrow’s first light we head for home.”
~ : § : ~
ROI WAS EXHAUSTED. The time of day quickened and then slowed. Ewen questioned his men more extensively. Brigid clung to Roi like a barnacle, treading in his shadow no matter what he did. How would the men hunt without adequ
ate weapons? He daresay a deer or other prey would not hold still to be stalked by them with their swords. Yet each man brought in an offering of some kind of catch; fish, hares, or fowl, cleaned and dressed, ready for the fire.
Ewen and Roi had consumed the remaining oats and flat breads that morn, but the bounty delivered ensured they all enjoyed a small feast. When Brigid could hold her head up no longer, Roi put her to bed, the sound of the eve’s rainshower simply one more sound to lull her to sleep.
From the corner of the room, Roi quietly watched Ewen interact with his men. The day’s happenstance freshened in his mind. Of a sudden, the cottage was too hot, the walls too close, the too loud voices of Ewen’s kin becoming the sound of a thousand ravens’ calls. All of it drove Roi from the room, out into the dark of night.
Cold rain pelted down upon him. Roi turned his face up to where he could feel the moon hid its light behind dark clouds and beseeched her to give him strength. The very essence of Roi’s soul seemed to be leaking from his eyes, mixing with the stinging, fat drops that fell from the sky. Roi’s head throbbed dully, his skin too tight, overstretched by his swollen and bruised visage. His arms and legs ached, his ribs tender to the touch, but none of it rivalled the pain that mauled his heart, stealing his breath.
He pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids, the warm tears he had no wish to shed spilling over the tips.
“Roi!” Ewen’s panicked cry cut through the night. Rough hands curled around his wrist and drew his hands away from his face, but Roi did not open his eyes.
Roi drew in a gasping breath. “Is this what one feels when they have a home, a people, someone they love? This be what I have yearned for with all that I am, and yet I find I be inadequately equipped for such bountiful gifts.” Roi swallowed around the hard lump in his throat.
“Explain. I understand not,” Ewen pleaded.
The rain chilled Roi’s skin, soaked his clothing, and matted his unbound hair to his head, yet Roi relished the warmth of Ewen’s hands cupping his cheeks. Still he could not gaze at Ewen. “I almost lost ye this day. There were six of them and only two of us. Do ye know what losing ye would do to me? The mere thought nigh unmans me,” Roi confessed, unashamed of his fear.
“But you knew, did you not?” Ewen gave him a little shake, and finally Roi opened his eyes to gaze upon Ewen’s earnest visage, full of some emotion Roi had no wish to give name to. “This morn, you tried to tell me something be coming when you attempted to arm me as if I were going into battle. Why did you not say more?”
Roi gripped Ewen’s forearms, wishing he could tell Ewen, confess to all the secrets of being Cerridwen’s priest. “I am forbidden to meddle in the hand of Fate. The visions bestowed unto me be entrusted to my silence. There be fiery consequences—some things be not meant to be changed. If I see a man thrown from a horse and killed, were I attempt to save him… if he were meant to die then Fate would take him another way. One’s destiny cannot be changed.”
“You changed nothing. I heard Brigid’s scream. I chose to grab the sword and my belt knife. You had no hand in what transpired this morn.” The vehemence of his words spoke of Ewen’s outright conviction.
Oh, my comely man. Roi’s fate was what had changed this day. He was meant to die, he was sure of it, and Fate, she would come for him again. Some tell must have shown upon Roi’s face for Ewen’s hands slid back into Roi’s wet hair and fisted the long strands, a rolling growl of warning slipping through Ewen’s bared teeth.
“Nay! Your fate be tied to me. You be mine, Roi mhic Alric. You belong by my side until the end of your days, and thereafter I shall bargain with the gods to have you with me in all other lives, whether we be reborn or sent to the Otherworld. Neither man nor god shall steal you from me. Not after you proclaimed your love for me. I missed not those precious words that slipped from your lips. I shan’t abandon you to any fate that does not include me.”
A visage so fierce as to halt a conquering warlord crossed Ewen’s countenance afore he attacked Roi’s lips, forcing his mouth wide to ravage and claim him. Ewen ate Roi’s quiet sobs and did not let up until he stole Roi’s very breath, not satisfied until he replaced Roi’s every exhalation with his own. Roi eagerly submitted to Ewen’s desire.
Roi knew not how long they stood in the pelting rain, wrapped about each other, not caring who stumbled upon them. At the moment, neither one of them cared what dangers their kiss posed if they were discovered by outsiders. Ewen could have been lost to Roi this day, and his only interest lay in trying to crawl under Ewen’s skin. If Ewen died, Roi would not survive the grief.
There, under the insistently pounding rain that would never be able to drown Roi like Ewen could with but a touch, Roi clutched at Ewen, fearing Ewen would turn to smoke like the dream he was and be whisked away.
“I be here,” Ewen whispered in his hard, rasping voice every time they parted briefly. Every word of reassurance wrapped Ewen around Roi’s core, drawing Ewen ever closer to him. Instead of Roi crawling beneath Ewen’s skin, Ewen delved under Roi’s to become ensconced in Roi’s very being, never to be rousted.
XXIV
NIGHT SLOWLY GAVE WAY to the colours of dawn. Roi had not slept a wink, convinced that if he closed his eyes he would find he had but dreamt the last fortnight.
None dawdled about, each person aware they could be walking into a trap or worse, once they made Ewen’s keep, though the men had reported that Donn had things well in hand afore they left in search of Brigid. But with the dubious intentions of the sorcerers, none wished to speculate upon whether they had returned or been chased off permanently.
Roi had his own suspicions. Sorcerers were by nature inherently good, working with the Earth and life. They fought not, raising nary a hand to defend themselves, nor took any life not necessary for sustenance. Rarely did one fall into malefaction, for they would be shunned by their brethren, cast out of the villages if they succumbed. So stained, they would be branded with a name they could not shrug off. However, Roi would have to wait until they reached Ewen’s home to inspect the handiwork of the sorcerers afore he gave Ewen counsel.
With the cottage secured and the horses saddled, they awaited upon Ewen’s kin, for half were to change into their mathan forms and amble into the forest to scout to be the forward guard. That having been achieved, Roi mounted the wyrm they called a steed with little ado. The mare’s lips pulled up over her teeth as she stomped, barely missing Roi’s feet as he mounted, her eyes rolling back as she attempted to keep him in her sight. He ignored the sting of her swishing tail and the humour he espied in her eye. None would believe him if he told them anyway.
Somehow, Roi had become Brigid’s champion despite the fact he had done naught save comfort her the best way he knew how. Ewen simply looked upon them with pride, grinning slyly when Brigid insisted upon riding with Roi and not her father.
Unlike the men who had travelled with them from Renfrewshire, Ewen’s other kin kept a distance. Roi suspected there was unfinished business betwixt Ewen and his men. The countenance upon Ewen’s face last night told him Ewen had not been appeased by the answers they had given him. He vowed to speak to Ewen later and soothe him, but it was a conversation that would have to wait until after they arrived at the keep.
~ : § : ~
ROI PULLED UP NEXT TO Ewen, and they looked down the side of the mountain onto Loch Raineach, Roi searching for any sign of strangers or unease within Ewen’s people. The crannog that sat in the loch was much larger than Roi had expected. Not only was there a walled keep, but also a tower house within the protective earthworks. From talk Roi had overheard in the King of the Isles’ court, not many would have such, especially not in the poor Highlands. The evidence of Ewen’s wealth was overwhelming and a bit disconcerting. He knew Ewen was nobility, but what he beheld only confirmed what he had come to fear within his heart. As a strong ally in the turbulent times to come, King Malcolm would in all likelihood press upon Ewen a new bride, tying Ewen closer to him, and in no w
ay would Ewen be able to dodge the king’s dictates. Roi prayed fervently he would be able to endure for Ewen’s sake.
A collection of village houses clustered together upon the shore opposite the crannog. Fields were rife with ploughs and oxen readying the ground for spring planting. People stopped what they were doing when they caught sight of them. Roi glanced at Ewen. He cut a fine figure, sitting tall upon his grey-speckled warhorse. Half the mathans ambled along in the open in a staggered line ahead of them, as if they knew unwanted eyes would not look upon them in this place. Those in human form surrounded Ewen as if he were a beast-king of old. A niggling fragment of memory from long, long agone almost made Roi believe Ewen could be.
Once the forest thinned, Roi espied a young boy running across the bridge to the walled keep. This provoked a scurry of activity atop the walls, but Roi was too far away to see what transpired. By the time they had descended the mountainside and crossed to the bridge spanning the loch to the crannog, a group of men had gathered at the head of the bridge.
Ewen leaned down and spoke to a couple of men who forthwith went to speak to the crowd.
The horse’s hooves striking the wooden bridge sounded loud and foreign to Roi’s ears. Ewen’s steed pulled ahead, but not afore Roi caught Ewen’s thunderous countenance or how his gaze seemed to take in everything at once.
Men upon the keep walls yelled, announcing Ewen’s arrival into the bailey. Once through the huge double doors, Roi slowed the pace of his mount to a walk so he could take in Ewen’s home.
The round edifice of the keep dominated a corner of the square bailey, standing opposite of the towerhouse. The keep walls were at least six feet thick, if not more; along the top walked men carrying long bows. To one side of the bailey were stables, and this was where Roi reined the mare to a halt.