Tristan returned to the group.
"You let her go alone?” Graeme asked incredulously.
"She insisted on it. I found no fault with her reasoning."
"She's just a woman. You should have overruled her. Haven't earlier attempts on her life proven she has no sense for her own safety?"
Tristan shrugged. “She may be ‘just a woman’ as you put it, Graeme, but you forget one very important detail. That woman led us here. She's risked her respectability to do so. Her only concern has been to guide these people to a safe place, and they still refuse to trust her. Once again she feels she must prove herself to them. I for one, don't feel she has to prove anything."
The warrior groaned as he slid down the side of a cart and its wheel to sit on the ground and wait. He was dead tired, and couldn't recall the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. He pulled his hood over his eyes, determined to catch a nap while he waited for her. Somehow he knew she'd be gone longer than an hour.
Graeme said nothing more, but turned and stared at the barrier before them, then walked closer. Tristan's attitude seemed to be going in his favor. Graeme was determined to be the first one to greet Meryl when she returned. He wanted to be the first to show his concern for her well being ... provided she managed to find her way back to this side of the mist.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Meryl walked cautiously through the thick mist, feeling her way along unseen ground. She thought of a movie she saw once, which took place in nineteenth century London, in Whitechapel. The fog in the movie gave her chills, hiding everything from sight. This wasn't any better. While she couldn't see anything at first, she listened carefully for Dinks, knowing he'd unerringly find his way to the other side. The mist felt different and she tried to put words to the feeling. As if the thought were a spell in itself, the mist began to part, showing her the way through. She stepped forward uncertainly, turning as she did so, to find it closing behind her, but keeping her in a small clear space and directing her forward. Magic, that was it. The fog was most assuredly natural, but a sense of magic lingered, enhancing the forbidding curtain. “That's all I need ... I've been led to the home of a magician,” she spoke aloud, disgusted with herself for believing in the strange ideas that had guided her these last weeks.
A familiar voice tickled her mind—or was she actually hearing it this time? Have faith, child. The magician you think you sense has yet to settle in.
"First rule of wizardry,” Meryl snapped back, wishing she could see the owner of the quiet voice. “Don't encroach on another wizard's domain.” She raised her arms, palms upward, realizing what she'd said. “I don't believe this. I'm talking to myself and answering my own questions. I am in deep trouble.” She shook her head and stifled a nervous giggle.
Dinks looked up at his mistress and growled. The warning became a soft purr and he arched his back, rubbing up against her skirts. His feline instincts were aware of something and it pleased him.
The voice gave in to pleasant laughter. Not to fear. The magic you feel was placed here until she who has the right to rule arrives. She will be here soon but you are more than welcome to stay.
"How soon? I don't have the skills, and even if I did, I don't care to go up against another magician. If she's due here shortly, then I'll find another place for my people. I'll not put them at risk of a magician's whims."
There will be no risk, the pleasant feminine voice continued. Until she comes who has the right to rule here, you and yours are more than welcome.
"Wait a minute,” Meryl called out when another thought occurred to her. “Isn't there someone else with you? I got the distinct impression there are two of you. I've heard you both speak.” The presence, whatever it was, disappeared, leaving Meryl to wonder about the property owner—and the owners of the voices. Riddles. Meryl enjoyed a good one now and again, but didn't care for them at the moment.
Past the misty curtain, the valley sprawled out before her. The sun shone brightly like a warm sunny morning. The grass, thick and rich in color, whispered in the slight breeze. Their small flock would do well here. She couldn't wait for the chickens to be let loose. She'd heard more than enough of their squawking about being confined in cages. Thick grass promised fertile land and good crops. A good deal of hard work would be needed to clear some of the land, but next autumn should see a good harvest.
An isolated hut needed a new roof and door. They might have some time to do repairs before winter set in. It was warmer here than the other side of the mist where the weary travelers waited anxiously for her return. Hopefully, the valley would prolong the warm temperatures, long enough for them to get settled in. With the distant mountains, she felt sure, they would be protected from the worst of the highland winter.
The mountain peaks to the north were snow capped. This would be a hard winter, since they brought only essentials with them. Some things would have to wait until spring.
"How could I have missed that?” Meryl asked herself when she spotted the keep in the distance. From where she stood, it seemed to be in good shape. While she was anxious to investigate it, she sensed her hour was almost up. The late afternoon sun hovered behind the stone building, overwhelming her with a feeling of belonging. “We're home, Dinks.” Arms stretched out from her sides, she spun about like a top, in joyous abandon. Her cloak billowed out behind her. “We're home!” she shouted and paused, half expecting to hear an answering call from the mountains.
Something was hidden up there, in the mountains, not far from the keep. She could feel it. A sense of powerful magic both intrigued and made her cautious. Whatever was going on here would have to wait. These people had come too far to be turned away now; it was too close to winter to be searching for another place. This valley felt right, it welcomed her. What more could she ask for these people? They would find peace here and she didn't want it to be disrupted before they had a chance to get comfortable. Her thoughts returned to her immediate situation. Meryl suddenly realized she'd been on this side of the mist for more than and hour. She reluctantly turned back before Tristan decided to come after her.
* * * *
Tristan paced back and forth, waiting impatiently for Meryl's return. He never should have let her go alone. Too many risks, too many opportunities for someone to hurt her, or do worse. No one had ever returned from the other side to report what was there, if anything. What if something had happened to her? He tried to convince himself his concern revolved around the needs of these people. He knew better. She meant more to him than she should. She was destined to become the Legend, the hope of the Highlands. He was a wanderer with no permanent home to offer her. She could do better for herself than a simple Scots warrior, but the thought of her with someone else riled him as nothing else could.
Wisps of mist swirled when Meryl emerged from the thickness. Graeme stepped forward when the mist began to eddy, determined to be the first to greet Meryl on her return. He stopped in his tracks when she passed him by and went straight to Tristan.
Unthinking, Meryl flung her arms about Tristan's neck and whispered excitedly, “We're home, Tris, we've finally arrived."
Tristan let out a whoop of laughter and, wrapping his arms about her waist, twirled her around. They would finally be safe from the English. He slowed down, letting her feet touch the ground again. He shouldn't have done that—shouldn't have touched her. The laughter faded away to be replaced by something more intimate. Their surroundings faded to nothing and the villagers were forgotten for a moment, while they shared unspoken feelings.
Maisri slowly approached the couple, giving them these few moments. No words were needed to express the understanding she saw pass between them. “Am I to assume we have arrived at our new home?” she asked when she joined them.
Meryl flushed with embarrassment. For a moment longer, she didn't take her eyes from Tristan's. “Yes, Maisri. This is the place.” She finally turned from Tristan to look at the older woman. “Once we pass through this mist, it will be as if we
've disappeared off the face of the earth. No one will know where to find us."
Meryl reluctantly stepped away from Tristan and turned to the villagers. “Okay, people, listen up,” she announced, then groaned to herself when she realized her twentieth century ways were showing again. Meryl chose to ignore some of the villagers’ puzzled looks. Others, she realized, had come to accept her quirks as a matter of course. “We have arrived. Beyond the mist curtain is the valley where we are about to make our homes. This first winter will be difficult. I don't know what condition we'll find the cottages but we will manage until spring. “The mist is thick, so I advise you all to stay close together. Rose, get the little ones back into their cart until we reach the other side. We don't want them wandering off.” Meryl paused to look around at the expectant faces, took a deep breath and released it. “Let's do it."
"Where's that cat of yours?” Tristan asked, looking around quickly. Famhair jumped into the mist, ignoring his master's command to return.
"Dinks stayed on the other side. He's having such a good time exploring I didn't have the heart to call him back."
Tristan and Meryl watched the weary travelers prepare to enter their new home. “This curtain is several feet thick,” she warned them. “Be sure to travel in a straight line and you'll get through it in no time.” Meryl watched in awe as the mist before her thinned, until she could see shadows of the valley beyond. On either side the curtain remained thick, like walls of water in the biblical parting of the Red Sea. “It seems the welcome wagon has been sent out to greet us,” she laughed. “Here's the doorway to our new home.” One by one the carts were pulled into the barrier and momentarily disappeared, swallowed up by fingers of mist swirling aimlessly about.
Meryl unconsciously slipped her hand into Tristan's, never taking her attention from the tired families. Their fingers laced together and he rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. She smiled up at him, relieved their journey was almost at an end. They followed the last cart, with Laoch trailing close behind them.
The group stood in awe of the valley, not used to seeing anything so green. Not far away, Dinks and Famhair rolled around in the still soft grass, grumbling their pleasure. The small flock of sheep wandered about, nibbling on the thick grass while the sheep dogs kept watch. It wouldn't take long to fatten up the wooly creatures again.
Dinks scrambled to his feet and took to stalking through the taller grass a short distance away. He leaped into the air, turned quickly and ran in the opposite direction as soon as his paws touched the ground again. Meryl laughed at his antics. He didn't behave like a kitten very often. Famhair continued his own exploration, taking in the strange scents, becoming acquainted with their new surroundings.
"This,” she announced proudly, “is Dun Ceathach, the Misty Fortress. Here, we won't have to worry about Sassenachs riding in to destroy our new home. We have most everything we need, and what we don't have, well, we'll work it out when the time comes. There should be some cottages within the outer bailey of the keep. I'm going up there now to look it over and see what needs to be done. Rest now, and for pete's sake, release those squawking chickens! We'll have much to do later to make this home."
"Come back here, you little...” Rose ran after two youngsters, but couldn't quite catch them.
"Rose,” Meryl called out to the girl. “Have one or two of your friends help you with the children. Let them run. They've been confined too long and need to burn off some energy. They'll sleep soundly tonight."
"Maisri, would you join us, please.” Meryl waited for the older woman to join her and Tristan. The adults gathered in small groups, conversing in low tones while studying their new surroundings.
Maisri followed the couple as they walked to the keep. Impressions of power emanating from the mountain were strong, and she stopped long enough to gaze at one of the closer peaks.
Meryl stopped and turned toward the mountain, her attention drawn to the same area.
"Do you feel it?” Maisri asked her. “Does it call to you?” Meryl nodded, not having the vaguest idea what called to her. Maisri smiled.
"Meryl, is everything all right?” Tristan questioned the strange gaze in her silver eyes.
"Hmm? Oh, sure. Everything's fine. What are we standing here for? We've got a keep to inspect.” She picked up her pace and headed toward the structure they were about to claim as their home.
The outer bailey was large enough to house and support a small village. A few huts needed new thatched roofs, but most huts were in fairly good condition. Minor repairs would render them ready for use before winter set in. More space along the far side of the wall would allow the building of more huts or several pens for flocks.
The outside of the keep looked to be in good repair. Meryl's gaze followed the wall, until her head tipped back in an effort to see the top. She staggered backward in an attempt to maintain her balance, then blushed when she saw Tristan staring at her, grinning. She recovered herself quickly.
"Well, it looks smooth and sound. Why don't we go inside."
They climbed the half dozen steps to the heavy main door and Tristan tugged it open. Meryl slipped inside and immediately regretted it. The air was heavy with musty odors. “Leave the door open, please!” She coughed on the stale air.
Brittle rushes, scattered across the stone floor disintegrated underfoot, leaving a fine powder easily tracked about. Thick dirt covered the tables and benches, while cobwebs hung in corners. Lighter areas on the walls showed where tapestries once hung. She stopped before one of two hearths set at opposite ends of the room. A pile of ashes, long since gone cold, lay on the hearth floor.
"Remind me to fire the cleaning service,” she muttered with dismay. She turned to face her companions and caught Tristan trying to stifle a laugh. He quickly schooled his features and cleared his throat, giving her a serious look.
Meryl cocked her head and stared at him, curious. How was it, his attitude toward her had lightened. She wasn't sure she liked that—it meant she no longer knew what to expect from him. The more she thought about it, she figured he must have learned quite a bit on his trip to the future to understand her often droll sense of humor. Most people didn't understand it, ever. She shrugged, then turned down a narrow tunnel leading them to the kitchens. The mess was almost as bad as the main room. “Mr. Clean might do some good here—industrial strength. I'm not sure I want to see what the bedchambers look like."
"Lady Meryl, you hid our warriors and brought us out of the near clutches of the English. You've led us on a journey to this new place; a journey which took us a sennight to complete. What is a little dirt compared to that?” Maisri stared at the younger woman, her expression daring Meryl to argue the point.
"I suppose you have a point, Maisri. Shall we assess the rest of the damage?” Meryl grinned and led the way back to the great hall and up the winding staircase to the upper levels. The bedchambers weren't quite as bad, but would still need a thorough cleaning. She'd have to start making plans for the best way to get the keep in a livable condition.
"Can't you...” Tristan wiggled his fingers.
"No, I can't,” Meryl repeated the gesture, “unless you want to risk not having a place to live this winter. I managed one spell. I wouldn't want to chance another, now. You have no idea how unreliable my spells might be."
"Just a suggestion.” He shrugged his shoulders and, once again, hid his laughter.
"Anyway, we need to burn some excess energy, confined as we were on our journey here."
"Speak for yourself,” Tristan muttered under his breath. He planned to find other things to do as soon as he could get away with it.
"This place will take a ton of scrubbing if we're going to live in it. I've cleaned a mansion, but I've never scrubbed down a castle before.” Meryl turned to her companions. “First time for everything. We'll have to continue camping out until the cleaning in here is done. Most everyone will have to live within the keep walls for the winter. I'm not sure there will be
enough time to do this and the huts as well. First thing in the morning we'll set up teams and delegate the work.” She paused to catch her breath. “Shall we see to our supper?"
* * * *
Early the next morning, Meryl stood in the bailey studying her surroundings. Carts leaned up against the outer wall to protect them from the cold night. They didn't have much time to get the building cleaned up before the winter settled in. The rising sun peaked over the outer wall, chasing away shadows.
The job set before them would be daunting, but it had to be done, and the sooner they got started ... “Rub-a-dub-dub, it's time for a scrub,” she rhymed as Tristan handed her a drink.
"In a good mood, are we?” he asked. His grin showed off his dimples. “While you see to the cleaning, some of the men will see about provisions.” He was overcome by a sudden need to escape Meryl's scrutiny.
"Nah ... nah!” She reached out and grabbed his arm when he stepped away from her. She intended to put him to work before he and the other warriors could escape. “You don't get away that easily. Provisioning can wait another day. We'll need some able-bodied men right here. Today—and don't you dare say cleaning is women's work."
Tristan's shoulders drooped briefly in dismay, like a little boy caught doing something wrong. He mentally kicked himself for not being quick enough to get away from Meryl's planning and explore the valley.
"We're going to need space out here to work. Rose, perhaps you and your friends can get some of the younger children to help find rushes for the floors. The older children will be helping inside. We're going to need all the buckets, rags and lye soap you can find ... and brooms. Don't forget brooms.
"Tristan, bring your warriors, we'll need a good deal of elbow grease today."
The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes Page 13