Season of the Witch

by Jaid Black

  “What am I missing here?” Niall muttered. “Where did demons come intae the mess of this?”

  Cainnech’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Laird Adaidh believed him tae be possessed,” he drawled. “Correct, Gabhran?”

  “Aye,” he quietly confirmed.

  “Possessed?” Niall’s gaze darted betwixt the deuce of them. “Adaidh thought Gabhran possessed of demons for stuttering?”

  “Aye,” Cainnech said on a sigh. “’Tis becoming rapidly apparent why Gabhran is loyal tae Lady Lucia.” At Niall’s confused look Cainnech explained, “She saved Gabhran from the monster Adaidh thought him tae be.”

  “Aye.” Gabhran lowered his head. The fight seemed to go right out of him. “What punishment do ye prefer I be given, Laird MacKenzie?”

  Niall’s eyes widened even more so than Cainnech’s. “Punish ye?” Niall asked incredulously. “The bastard punished ye for havin’ the stutter?”

  Gabhran’s head slowly came up. His expression was confused. “Aye. Everra day of me life. Until milady chased him away.”

  The fury Cainnech felt inside was putting a dent in his stony exterior. “There will be no punishment here—no’ for that.”

  “Thirty and three years I have seen,” Niall muttered. “I have fought in countless battles, seen tae many a good mon die in the name of Viking tyranny, watched helplessly as me verra own mum took her last breath, yet no’ once have I betrayed emotion tae any but me brother.” He laughed without humor and jabbed two fingers in Gabhran’s direction. “In walks this one and I’m ready tae cry like a bairn!”

  Cainnech tried not to smile, but felt the left part of his upper lip tugging him into one. “’Tis happy I am ’twas no’ just me.”

  Before he knew it, all three of them were sharing a laugh. “I dinna think tae upset ye,” Gabhran said as Niall thumped him on the back. “I just thought ye—”

  “Would be like Adaidh,” Cainnech finished. His expression grew serious. “I canna expect ye tae think different when the only laird ye have known was either possessed of the demons himself or tae much a lackwit tae ken much of anything.” He shook his head. “Swear yer allegiance tae me here and now, Gabhran, and ye become a MacKenzie in truth.”

  Gabhran’s eyes widened. The mon Lucia thought a lad was visibly shocked by the opportunity to become an equal clansman. He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Afore ye swear tae it,” Cainnech told him truthfully, not wanting to use deception to get his questions answered, “ye must ken that yer loyalty lies first with me and second with yer lady.”

  Gabhran’s head slowly rose. He understood precisely what his oath would entail. He hesitated.

  Most lairds would have taken insult, yet Cainnech was wizened enough to be impressed. Gabhran’s loyalty ran deep. “Ye have my word I mean her no harm, yet I canna protect her from what I dinna ken.”

  Gabhran paused as he mulled over that fact. After what felt an eternity, he silently acquiesced and bowed his head again. “I gladly renounce all ties tae me former clan and swear me loyalty tae Laird Cainnech MacKenzie, Baron of Eilean Donnain. I vow tae protect and defend me laird and the people of Clan MacKenzie with me verra life.”

  Cainnech’s expression was severe, but inwardly he was pleased. “I, Laird Cainnech MacKenzie, Baron of Eilean Donnain, accept yer fealty and vow in return for it tae fight aside ye instead of behind ye.” When Gabhran’s blue eyes became round as two moons, he realized Adaidh was not only a monster, but a coward as well. Cainnech could not respect any mon, laird or no’, who thought his own life meant more than another’s. “Rise tae yer feet, Gabhran MacKenzie.”

  As Gabhran excitedly surged up and shared a brotherly hug with Niall, Cainnech could see why Lucia thought him more a boy than a mon. He had been treated so cruelly that even a wee scrap of kindness thrown his way caused him to smile with the naivety of a lad. Niall’s assessment had been correct, he thought grimly. Gabhran would turn the deuce of them into weeping wenches yet.

  “Tell me the truth of Lady Lucia,” Cainnech commanded. He needed to know, wanted to know, and fiercely desired to be distracted from his former thoughts. By the saints, he would not grow teary! “When ye said she is no’ accustomed tae the ways of our world, what did ye mean?”

  Gabhran briefly hesitated. “I fear ye will think me daft or mayhap easily fooled.”

  Niall’s expression grew intrigued. Cainnech shook his head.

  “I would no’ have named ye a MacKenzie did I believe either of those things,” the laird murmured. “Tell me. Now.”

  Gabhran sighed. “Milady dinna lie for in truth she is half Roman and half Norse.” He swallowed. “’Tis just that she dinna come tae the Highlands from Rome or the Northlands. At least no’ from those kingdoms as we ken ’em.”

  Cainnech’s eyebrows drew together. His gaze flicked toward his brother who looked equally confused before returning to Gabhran. “I dinna ken.”

  “Do ye see that tome on yon table?”

  “Aye. What does that book—”

  “It brought her here tae this castle.” Gabhran must have seen the bewilderment on both men’s faces for he quickly added, “She arrived on the eve when we celebrate the harvest and has been tryin’ tae go back home—and take me with her—ever since.” He nodded toward the book. “The parchment says the eve of our harvest, October 31, is the one night of the year when time can be crossed.”

  A chill worked its way down the length of Cainnech’s spine. “Lucia comes from…another time?”

  “’Tis no’ possible,” Niall muttered. He raked a hand over his plaited braids. “Is it?”

  “Milady is no’ a witch,” Gabhran said quietly. “She heralds from a time in our world’s future where people she calls ‘scientists’ have gained much knowledge and ken how tae do things we dinna yet ken how tae.”

  “Lucia is a ‘scientist’?” Niall asked.

  “Aye. And in her world a verra powerful one.” Gabhran walked over to Lucia’s odd manner of table and poked a button that caused the sun to light up inside a ball of glass. “This is but one of many things she’s told me of.”

  “By the saints,” Niall mumbled, wide-eyed. “By the saints…”

  Cainnech swallowed roughly, both from shock and awe. Had he no’ witnessed the warm castle without fire and the sun captured inside a glass ball with his verra eyes, ’twould be nigh unto impossible to accept Gabhran’s words as truth. This future world he knew naught of…’twas the only answer that made a wee bit of sense.

  “How far?” Niall rasped. “How far intae the future did she come from?”

  All eyes were on Gabhran. He hesitated for a brief moment before telling them what he knew. “More than seven hundred and fifty years.”

  “Well, at least yer bride-tae-be is no’ a witch,” Niall said, walking the battlements with Cainnech. “Unless the sciomonists of the future ken how tae turn a mon intae a toad we need no’ worry aboot that again.”

  “Scientists.”

  “Ye ken my meaning.”

  Cainnech frowned, but his hawk-like gaze didn’t stray from the fortress’s battlements. He was walking the entirety of them to find weaknesses, but this part of the castle had nary a one. Cainnech had left Gabhran behind to sit with Lucia; the newest MacKenzie was to inform him upon her waking.

  “We canna be tellin’ nary a mon aboot that,” Cainnech instructed as they continued their walk. “’Twill bring naught but fear.”

  “But they think her tae be a witch, brother.”

  “Mayhap.” The laird shrugged. “But a harmless one.”

  “’Tis true, that.” Niall’s tone took on an amused note. “Kinnon has said already that no mon better think tae harm her for her powers be those of a good witch.” He chuckled. “I think the mon just likes the comforts her witchery makes.”

  Cainnech found his first smile. “I canna say I dinna agree. ’Tis a boon tae have a warm keep and no need tae breathe in the smoke from fires tae feel it.”
>
  “Aboot that…”

  “Aye?”

  “Lucia had Gabhran block off half the castle. The other half is tae cold tae house the soldiers in whilst they build their huts. Gabhran said if we open it up ’twill cause the whole of the keep tae get cold.”

  Cainnech frowned thoughtfully. “They can sleep in the great hall this eve. By the morrow Lucia should be rested enough tae…” He absently flung a hand in the air. “Tae do whatever it be she does.”

  Niall grinned. “I forgot tae tell ye I sent a rider tae get the priest from yon village. I expect them tae be here this eve so ’twill be a full day for ye and yer intended on the morrow.”

  “And on the morrow we will also have the answer tae your worry.”

  “Eh? I dinna ken.”

  “Lucia will ken her fate when she sees the priest.”

  “So?”

  Cainnech shrugged. “If we dinna get turned intae toads right afore I wed her then ’tis bluidy certain she canna do it at all.”

  “Aye. There is that.” Niall thumped him on the back and laughed. “And if she can do it I hope she at least makes us handsome toads.” He waggled his eyebrows. “The lady toads would be ever in her debt.”

  Cainnech shook his head, smiling. “Dunce.”

  Chapter Five

  “You. Told. Him. What?!”

  “I dinna wish tae upset ye, but I thought ye should know.”

  “Of course I should know! Great!”

  Lucia took a deep breath. She had just awoken from a long sleep that never should have happened. Her homemade nerve remedy apparently worked a bit too well. She’d created it to help Gabhran calm down so he could learn to speak without stuttering. It hadn’t had this effect on him except once when she’d given him too large a dose, but she supposed she should have taken the fact he was a lot bigger than her under consideration before drinking some herself. She’d been too hysterical to think clearly at that moment though.

  “Nay. I am no’ going tae kill ye. Just wed ye, fuck ye and breed ye.”

  The memory still sent a chill down her spine. Now that Gabhran had told the warlord she was a time traveler—what the hell had he been thinking?!—she was fairly certain she’d be burned at the stake or whatever it was they did to witches in the year 1265. Suddenly wed, fucked and bred didn’t sound nearly as awful a fate by comparison, she thought grimly.

  She sat up on her futon and tried to think of what to do. How could she possibly escape the castle without notice? Think, Lucia, think!

  “Why are ye dressed like that?” Gabhran asked.

  “None of my gowns were dry,” she replied absently. Her light green eyes narrowed at him. “Plus I was trying to look like a damn Viking sorceress to save your traitorous ass!”

  “I am no’ a traitor,” Gabhran said quietly. She could hear the hurt in his voice. “But the laird can protect ye and I canna. I told ye afore, I am ready tae die for ye, but I am only one mon.”

  Lucia sighed. She understood Gabhran had thought he was doing the right thing. She just didn’t agree with his assessment of the situation. What more could she have expected him to do with her passed out cold, though? Uggh. All fault lay with her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I know you made the best decision you could make at the time with the knowledge you had available to you.” She ran a shaky hand through her mane of curls. “But men like that are never good men. You of all people should understand that.”

  “Laird Mackenzie is no’ like Laird Adaidh,” Gabhran said, trying to convince her. “He is a mon of his word.”

  Lucia rolled her eyes and snorted at that. “Your naivety is charming at times and rather annoying at others. In this instance? Annoying.”

  “Lady Lucia…”

  She held up a palm. “What’s done is done,” she said, standing. “I just have to figure out how to undo it.” At Gabhran’s perplexed look she explained, “We are not staying here. We are going to the future.”

  “Milady…”

  “I can’t be stuck here!” She felt ready to cry. “I just can’t. You don’t understand because you don’t know the world I left behind. Women mean less than nothing in 1265! How can I go from having freedom to being owned like a thing?”

  Gabhran sighed. His kind blue eyes studied her face. “We have tried tae go there more times than I can remember. It never works! Ye said yerself ’tis the only magic ye’ve ever performed that ye canna ken the way of.”

  “But I’m a very good scientist. I’m smart. I’m the best. If anyone can figure out how that damn book works, it’s me.”

  “And then what?” Gabhran asked softly. “Ye go back tae a world ye wanted tae die in? Ye had hoped the book would take ye tae Heaven that ye might be reunited with yer parents. I dinna ken many things, yet I ken ye must be dead tae go tae Heaven.”

  Lucia couldn’t say otherwise and she hated him at the moment for it. She had never felt so defeated in her entire life, which was saying a lot. Still, none of this was Gabhran’s fault.

  She began to pace, but at a leisurely gait. “Even if your assessment of this warlord’s honesty and ability is true, what happens when a stronger, more brutal warlord lays siege to the castle?” Her hands flew up. “We’re dead is what! The future has unstable countries in it, but not near to the extent of how unstable things are now.”

  “I dinna ken there is a stronger laird in all of Scotland.”

  “Right now. Today. But what happens when Scotland is no longer free?” At Gabhran’s puzzled expression she explained, “History was never my best subject at university, but I remember enough of it to know Scotland will fall to England. Even in my day it belongs to England!”

  “We belong tae the English in yer world?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked like a child whose balloon had just been popped. “’Tis no’ a future I wish tae live in.”

  Lucia came to a sudden halt. She blinked. Never once had it occurred to her that the future might be as depressing to Gabhran as the past was to her. She should have given that more thought. She’d just assumed all the technology and gadgets of her world would have distracted him, which they probably would have—for a while. But in the end he would have mourned for the loss of his country’s independence. Even modern Scotland remained divided on whether to separate from the United Kingdom so she could only imagine the depression a medieval Highlander would feel. Especially a medieval Highlander from the Hebrides, a chain of islands where they were still fighting for autonomy from the Viking king.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucia murmured. “I should have told you.”

  He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “’Tis sad, that.” He shook his head and frowned. “How? Why?”

  “I don’t remember the exact details,” Lucia sighed, “but it always comes down to greed.”

  “Eh?”

  She shrugged. “Money. The Scottish nobles and monarchs to come will basically betray their people.” Or was that the plot of Braveheart? Either way, it didn’t matter. The end result would be the same.

  Now they both looked depressed. She patted him on the arm and forced a smile.

  “I don’t know what to do, my friend.” Lucia nibbled at her lip for a moment. “Perhaps this time and place is the best one for you to live in now that you aren’t under Adaidh’s control.” She shook her head softly. “But it’s not the best time or place for me. Being protected means very little when you have no freedom.”

  “I ken yer meaning,” Gabhran quietly admitted, “in a way I couldna afore.”

  For some reason his understanding went a long way toward making her feel less…alone. “I don’t want to be any man’s property, yet here that’s all I could ever be. What happens when I grow old and my looks fade?” She exhaled. “That’s a shaky foundation to build your worth on, knowing it can never last.”

  “’Tis no’ different for a mon. Mayhap his looks dinna matter tae much, but his strength weakens with age.”

  Lucia conceded
the point. “Touché.”

  They stared at each other. Both of them sought answers the other simply didn’t have.

  “What do we do?” Gabhran asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “If ye will permit me, I would still like tae get yer tree. ‘Twas what I was doin’ afore the laird captured me.”

  This kid was going to make her cry yet. “That would be wonderful,” Lucia murmured. “Thank you, Gabhran. You’re a good person.”

  “We will still have our feast and hang the stockings then?”

  “Sure.” She smiled. “I don’t have enough stockings for all those men though. Nor do we have enough food.”

  “I will speak tae yer intended aboot it.”

  Lucia’s eyes widened. She’d somehow forgotten about that amidst their banter. “I can’t marry him.”

  “Ye dinna have a choice.”

  Lucia and Gabhran both stilled. Those words had been spoken by a darker, deeper voice. Her pulse climbed as she turned to face its owner.

  He was even larger and more intimidating than she’d remembered, which was pretty severe as it was. His black kilt and long braids gave him an impossibly more sinister appearance.

  Their gazes clashed. Her mouth went cotton-dry. She barely registered his brother standing beside him.

  “Gabhran. Niall,” he barked. “Leave us.”

  Lucia gasped. “Gabhran, don’t leave me!” She held onto him for dear life. “What if he murders me?” she whispered a little too loudly.

  “If I meant tae kill ye, Roman Viking, ye’d be dead.” His frown was severe. “Remove yer hands from Gabhran lest ye cause him tae be punished for yer actions. Ye canna touch any mon but me.”

  Her nostrils flared. She forgot her fright as she let go of Gabhran’s arm. “Oh I’ll touch you all right! Let me start by putting my hands around your neck and squeezing!”

  She could have sworn there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Ye can try, milady.” He inclined his head. “Gabhran and Niall—go.”

  Cainnech had overheard the entirety of the conversation betwixt Lucia and Gabhran for Gabhran had done as instructed and sent a mon to inform him she was rousing. He was certain Gabhran was unaware he’d heard as much as he had, but knowing Niall, he’d delight in telling him.