‘They’ll not have seen his like before,’ he replied, smirking. ‘They’ll be whispering behind her back.’
‘Let them! Everyone harbours a secret of sorts; our villagers are no exception. They’ll keep their opinions to themselves. Did they not accept Kai? And besides, I’m sure Eleanor is well able. If you are concerned for her welfare, I can assure you, she is quite safe. Reece has given me his word and I… trust it.’
‘You trust him?’ Gill stared at his mother, amazed how easily the words flowed from her mouth. ‘You have known him, but for one night, and now you say you trust him!’
Mother and son held each other’s gaze for a brief moment. Rosalyn knew he was right. She then looked towards her home—their home—where she knew Onóir and Reece would be engrossed in conversations of the past and present. Standing beside her, she could feel the anticipation of her son patiently waiting for her reply.
‘I trust my instincts, Gill,’ she finally answered, turning back to him. ‘I trust him. He made a vow to your father—to protect you—a complete stranger! Neither of them could have foreseen this outcome. We have all been strangers, until now. While I understand how discontent you are by their sudden presence, I confess to welcoming it… especially now.’
‘And what of the other one—with the mangled ear? I’ve not seen him since… Where is he?’
‘Tam is around, keeping watch. It is merely a precaution.’
‘For whose benefit?’ he retorted. ‘Did you not see that look in his eyes?’
Rosalyn made every attempt to dismiss the image from her mind, remaining positive for her son’s sake.
‘I know,’ he added, rolling his eyes at her reluctance to answer. ‘Reece has assured you.’
‘I am content, knowing Tam is our ally. It seems we will need all the protection offered to us, at this time. Accept it, Gill. Accept them.’
Gill mused over his mother’s words. As always, they made sense, considering the strangeness of his new circumstances, and yet, inside, he was struggling to accept the future he had known nothing about. A picture of Meghan entered his thoughts. He recalled the beam of happiness on her face when they made their plans. Unknown to his family, his intentions had been to join the forces of the royal army. He had received a letter from a, Donald Mackay, to report for training by the end of September—after he turned seventeen. It had all been arranged. He and Meghan had planned to elope, before taking up his position. Feeling betrayed by his sister, he decided he would deal with her, later.
Eleanor! he thought. He turned to his mother, to challenge her. ‘Am I to believe Eleanor knows?’
Rosalyn released a long sigh. ‘Since last night,’ she admitted. ‘I was unable to sleep. She found me by the remnants of the fire with Rave. It was not my intention to tell her… until I had spoken to you. But you know what your sister is like.’
‘Unfortunately,’ he replied, calling to mind when she forced his plans from him. She had threatened to tell Meghan’s father. The poor man would have been heartbroken. For his daughter to marry? Yes. But to leave him? No. He had relied on her since his wife died—five years previously—from a weak heart. ‘Aye,’ he added, ‘’tis one question after the next. My sister’s persistence is enduring, until she’s satisfied with her answers.’
‘Even though they may hurt,’ Rosalyn replied.
Gill’s heart sank as he imagined his sister’s reaction—when told her only sibling would soon be leaving her.
‘Although it was difficult for her to accept, at first…’ she said.
‘She should wear my shoes,’ Gill muttered under his breath.
‘Do not misjudge your sister; she is stronger than you think. Give her time. She did not tell me your intentions out of spite, Gill. No—Eleanor felt it her duty.’ Rosalyn hesitated. ‘You know you will have to tell Meghan your plans have changed.’
‘And how do you propose I do that, maw?’ he growled, seating himself on the same log his mother sat, oblivious to the chore he had forgotten to do.
Tempted to scold him, Rosalyn bit her tongue.
She then rose from her seat, and looked down at him, her heart bursting, wishing she could remove his great burden. Instead, she would offer him the best advice she could give.
‘Gill,’ she began. ‘How long might you have lived as a soldier? War claims many casualties. Did you want to make Megan a young widow? No one knows more than I what a difficult life it is. I dread to imagine the path I might have taken had I not met your father.’
‘My father?’ he cried, standing to face her. ‘Did he not desert us? And what will become of him now?’ Gill’s tone reflected the anger he felt for his father.
Rosalyn hung her head for her husband’s actions.
A pang of guilt rested on Gill as he saw the tears well in his mother’s eyes. With a reluctant smile, he enveloped her in his arms. ‘Do not cry for his failings, maw.’
Unaware of the power in his own strength, Rosalyn felt the pressure of his hold tighten as she struggled to breath. She tensed at the strain of it, begging him to release her. Gill stepped back apologetically.
‘You must learn to keep your strength in check,’ she advised, forcing herself to laugh.
Gill—on the other hand—did not find it amusing. Staring at his hands, he fought to understand how his newfound strength came to be. ‘’Tis all new and strange to me. At first it was slow and gradual, but now I’m more than aware of its presence. It frightens me, maw.’
‘There are others in the village who would be jealous of you, Gill,’ she said, trying to make light of it.
‘I can feel it… inside,’ he added, paying no heed at her attempt to re-assure him. He then stared at her, his eyes intense with fear. ‘What—what if I can’t control it?’
‘Now you understand why you must go,’ she informed him. ‘The answers and the help you seek are with your father. Whatever grievance you have with him, I can tell you this: he tried with the greatest of intentions to hide you from the Elliyan. Oran did not want this for you. He would have gladly taken your place, or given it to another, had it been allowed.’
‘So, is that why he taught me the skill of weaponry?’ he asked, recalling their time together.
‘He was… preparing me?’
Rosalyn smiled, slowly nodding her head.
‘Which begs the question…’
‘What?’ she said.
‘Did he know they were coming for me?’
‘I swear it, Gill,’ she appealed, on her husband’s behalf. ‘He did not know. If you are to blame anyone—blame us both. We convinced ourselves, in our ignorance, they would never find us. And besides, I was not willing to hand you over… not at such a young age. I couldn’t do it. Maybe one day when you—’
‘Have children?’ he sneered. ‘’Tis now an unlikely ambition.’
Rosalyn was at a loss. The planned future, her son had hoped for, was being cruelly snatched from his reach. Yet, she had no knowledge of the privileges allowed to the Magus. ‘You cannot know this,’ she said, in all her honesty. ‘While I’m not privy to it, I can only assume the affluent life that awaits you. Whether you like it, or not, you have to go!’
Gill sensed the determination in her underlying concern. Again, she was right.
She’s always right! he thought; and it annoyed him. Finally, his mother’s defiance triumphed over his stubbornness. He looked away from her. ‘Will you come with us?’ he quietly asked.
Rosalyn blinked, stopping the tears from falling. Swallowing the words—she really wanted to say—she looked him straight in the eye. ‘I can’t go; I think you know that. Onóir is too weak. She needs me here. I just hope she’s with us long enough to see Reece again.
‘How can he leave her after such a reunion? I could not.’
‘Gill, you are young,’ she stated, resuming her place on the infamous log.
It was then he was reminded of his chore. He diverted his eyes, pretending not to notice.
‘Sometimes, we
are given choices which pave our future. ‘True, in that, they never turn out the way we visualise them. Though, some are fortunate. This is how I see it for Reece and Onóir. Their first parting was not their choosing. But now, they have been given a second chance, however long it may last. Should this be their last day together, they are now aware of it—more than ever—enabling them to make choices.’
‘I think I understand,’ he said, drawing his brow together.
‘You must admire their bravery.’
‘I see it now,’ he said, nodding, as he sat beside her.
‘The war you so wished to fight, here, will pale in comparison to the one facing us all, should the Sorceress take what is rightfully yours.’
‘Where does she—this Sorceress—reside?’ he queried, with an element of doubt.
Aware he was not entirely convinced, Rosalyn decided it was time her son knew the brutal reality.
‘We don’t know,’ she returned. ‘But Reece suspects they may follow, sooner or later.’
‘They?’
‘She’s not alone. The threat of devastation she could inflict upon a world of mortals is very real, Gill. Now you understand why your father was secretly preparing you for your role—whether it be one of peace or conflict. It is unfortunate that it should be the latter. I have no doubt you will make a great leader, son. But there is much to do before you leave, and we must be vigilant.’
‘Vigilant?’ Surely, we are not at risk—at least—not yet?’
Rosalyn hesitated, pondering over her reply.
He frowned at her unwillingness to answer. ‘Well?’ he persisted.
‘I cannot be certain,’ she said.
‘Out with it, maw!’
‘It seems someone—something—is watching us.’
‘Where?! Who?!’ he demanded, leaping up, scouring the trees. He then reached for an axe, which had lain idle on the ground, beneath the log, and readied himself.
‘I don’t know,’ she answered, fretting, as she followed his gaze; his actions were making her feel vulnerable and nervous in her own yard.
‘How long?’ he added, wielding the axe.
‘“Always!”. Those were his words to Reece.’
‘Whose?’
‘Your father’s,’ she blurted, ‘even he is none the wiser,’ she quickly added, before he could cast more aspersions.
Gill felt frustrated, not knowing their spy’s presence or identity.
His eyes darted, searching again through the shroud of trees, staring back at him. ‘Where are you, watcher?!’ he shouted, in the stillness of the morning. ‘Show yourself, coward!’
The unexpected sound of something battling its way through the trees made them jump. It loomed closer. Gill shielded his mother, ready to defend her, however, Rosalyn had already removed the Dirk, prepared to use it. Nothing would deter her from doing so, should she feel threatened.
‘Here it is!’ he whispered, tightening his grip, as it grew closer—the anticipation in his voice, spurring them on. ‘Now!’ he cried, hurdling the axe towards their potential attacker. As the weapon left Gill’s hand, it found itself in the grip of another’s.
Mother and son stopped dead.
‘Your father taught you well, Gill,’ Reece stated, returning the axe to him. ‘And, I admire your skill,’ he continued, smirking at Tam, who had just emerged from the trees.
‘Och! The wee lad would have missed!’ Tam argued back.
Rosalyn stared in disbelief at the swiftness of their response, while Gill stood amazed, in awe of it.
‘I could have killed you, Tam!’ said Gill, with an underlying sense of pride. But the overbearing presence of the Dhampir told him differently.
Tam raised his brow. ‘Hardly!’ came his short, flat response. It was clear he was insulted, judging by the bemused glance he threw at Reece.
Gill—rather pleased with himself—grinned from ear to ear, as he leaned on his axe.
Noting the annoyance in Tam’s soured face, Rosalyn winked at the Highlander. He frowned back, still unimpressed.
Rosalyn then turned and, seeing the smug look on her son’s face, grunted. ‘As you are feeling so inspired by your actions, Gillis Shaw…’ she said, glancing down at the axe.
He looked at her, still smirking.
‘… you can put that to another use.’
Two eyes secretly looked-on, undetected, as the small group shared in Rosalyn’s joke, at her son’s expense.
They smiled with contentment. The boy had been raised well and was prepared—more than he realised. As for Oran’s choice of companions? They were exceptional.
Yes, it was time to inform the others… the Magus was coming!
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘’Tis the day of our Fair.’
‘Fair?’ Reece echoed, reaching out to help his wife from their bed.
Although she ached, Onóir threw her husband a stubborn glance, telling him, she was more than capable of standing on her own. ‘Aye, Balloch Fair. We have attended every year’—she paused, recalling a memory— ‘except for one—when young Will Grant died of…’
Reece waited, with respect, as she struggled to remember.
‘Oh, no matter,’ she mumbled. ‘Such a tragedy. Poor wee lad.’
He watched her slow movements as she dressed, without the awkwardness, nor the embarrassment, of her changed body. He adored her now as he did, then.
Onóir’s small, but comfortable bed chamber was simple for her means. An oversized throw—they had once shared—now draped over the sides, touching the rough wooden floor. An average sized coffer sat below the small window, which looked out onto the yard.
‘Oran made it for me,’ she stated, opening its lid.
Inside, the leftovers from their past looked up at him. ‘Is that…?’
‘Aye, my wedding dress.’
He leaned over to touch the fine linen, its whiteness now tainted with age. But it was the blue, bobbin lace—woven across the bodice—that brought it to life once more, its colour still vivid, as though it had just been sown on. Beside it—wrapped in a soft, yellow cotton cloth—the dry flowers he had given her that same day. She then removed a tiny, plain chestnut box. Handing it over, she waited for him to delve into its history. Drawing back the lid, he saw a thick curl of fair hair.
‘It was beautiful when she was a bairn,’ said Onóir. ‘I kept it, hoping one day you would see it.’
Reece stared at the precious item she had retained for him, finding it difficult to believe Rosalyn was once fair; a mere glance at his wife washed away his doubts. To him—dark or fair—the small lock of hair was beautiful and dear to him. He let his finger brush over it gently, for fear of damaging it.
‘’Tis yours now,’ she said.
‘Keep it for when I return,’ he replied, handing it back. Their eyes rested on each other, for one intense moment, before she took it from him.
‘When do you leave?’ she inquired, watching him go to the window.
Reece, opening it slightly, remained silent and distracted.
Throwing a woven blanket across her shoulders, she went to his side. He was watching Gill.
‘See how he uses it, with ease?’ he remarked.
Gill reigned his axe down on the infamous log with one hand, as though he was cutting moss. There was no pause or effort in his work. Reece glanced down at Onóir, noting the look of pride in the way she smiled at her only grandson.
‘I wondered how long it would take him to get around to it,’ she remarked. ‘’Tis one chore our grandson dislikes.’
A small rap on the door bid Rosalyn’s entrance.
‘Is that mine?’ she asked, seeing her mother return the familiar box to the coffer.
‘It is difficult to believe it was once yours,’ Reece remarked.
‘Aye, and it will be again,’ she grinned. ‘Although…whiter in shade.
‘Whereas yours, my love,’ Onóir added, ‘has not changed, since that day.’
Reece carefully
observed the two women, scrutinising him. The cruelty of time was playing out its role. Where it had slowed for him, his wife and daughter—not to mention Eleanor—would succumb to it.
Time will take them all, he thought, knowing he would eventually out-live them… except for Gill, who, no doubt would live longer now, given his new role. He cannot see his family die before him, he thought. But that was the cruel reality of it. He would.
Closing his eyes, he saw Wareeshta’s face, then drew on his plan. He would make her suffer first, then destroy her, before being finally released from her curse. Clenching his fists, he breathed deeply, trying to control his anger. Rosalyn cast a worrying glance at Onóir on hearing the bones of his knuckles crack.
‘Reece?’
Hearing his daughter’s voice, his eyes flew open, releasing him from his anger. She detected a hint of loathing in their intensity before returning to their natural state.
‘The Fair?’ he blurted, reminded of something.
‘Aye, we’re going today,’ Rosalyn informed him, ‘and say what you will… I’ll not deny my son his last one.’
‘Nor would I,’ he agreed. He turned to Onóir. ‘Two days. We must leave in two, and no later.’
Onóir hesitated before slowly nodding.
‘Do you have horses?’ he asked Rosalyn.
‘Just Farrow,’ she said. ‘We keep him behind the house… in his stable. He’s Oran’s pride, and I will not part from him.’
‘Although, from what I recall,’ Onóir added, ‘He will not part from you.’
Rosalyn smiled, calling to mind her failed attempts to leave the steed with Kai. ‘No, Reece, Farrow stays! If you want horses, Balloch Fair will provide you with a fine selection. But I should warn you, it is a peaceful day. You will have to leave that behind.’
Reece stepped back from the two women, feeling out-numbered.
‘My sword stays with me!’ he insisted.
On his objection, Rosalyn turned on her heel, leaving her parents abruptly. Promptly she returned, carrying a piece of clothing. ‘Then you will have to conceal it… to avoid unwanted attention,’ she added, holding the garment out.
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