The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes

by Marissa St. James

The other guards turned to find the source of their comrade's fear and found him staring at a small cat. They roared with laughter at sight of the small cat, unaware that their companion saw something different. The man turned red with embarrassed anger and left his post to find the beast's mistress.

  Meryl ran through the streets, dodging peasants and darting around carts. She had to put as much distance as she could between herself and the guard. She assumed he was chasing after her, but she didn't stop to glance over her shoulder to find out. She had to find another way out of London. The main gate was definitely out of the question.

  She stopped running and found herself in the inn's courtyard, standing in almost the same spot as the last time when she'd casually studied the building. Just as before, she felt someone staring, and glanced at an upper window. Her heart pounded harder when she saw a well-dressed man looking down at her.

  Matthew stared down into the courtyard. He knew all the females who often appeared below, having dealt with most of them at one time or another. The young woman staring back at him appeared frightened. Sudden realization struck him. That was the wench he'd spent months hunting.

  "You!” he shouted to a peasant close to her. “Grab that girl and hold her.” He disappeared from the window, and hurried out to the inn yard.

  The peasant hurried away, not wanting to get involved. Meryl looked about, frantically searching for a place to hide. Yesterday wouldn't be soon enough. She recognized the man in the window when he'd shouted. Who'd have thought she'd manage to run into the English knight? She'd subtly taunted him months ago and more than likely he wanted payback. She'd really be in a stew if she couldn't disappear.

  She turned quickly at the tugging on her arm, ready to strike out.

  "Here. Come now,” the old man urged. “Come with me. I can help you.” He tugged again insistently. “You don't want the captain to find you.” A wild beard covered part of his weathered features. His clear blue eyes stared and held her, as if in a trance. “Move, girl,” he urged. “The captain will search the town until he finds you.” The old man stood by an open door, waiting for her. “Hide in plain sight?” he suggested, reminding her of an earlier time.

  Meryl sensed no deceit in him, but still reluctantly followed the old man. She entered the hut cautiously, not sure why she trusted him. Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior after the old man closed the door.

  He lit one fat tallow candle and set it near the hearth, out of the way. “Sit.” He gestured to one of two chairs.

  Meryl slipped onto the chair furthest away from the door. Outside, people were running. Someone shouted orders. Carts were carelessly overturned and goods crashed onto the cobblestones. Vendors shouted in anger at the destruction of their goods. Meryl jumped at the heavy pounding on the old man's door. She tried to remain calm but the sound of her pounding heart seemed to fill the small room. She clutched her small wizard pin tightly within her fist and felt the sharp point of the pin jab into her flesh. There was only one thing she could think to do. It worked once before and she said a little prayer it would work again.

  The old man opened the door a little way and Matthew forced it open wider. “Where's the girl?” he demanded, visually searching the hut's single room.

  "As you can see, there is no one here, sir.” The old man remained remarkably calm.

  Matthew entered and stepped around the small table, searching every dark corner, overturning a stool, and upending a cot that filled one short wall. The old man was indeed alone. “If you should see the girl who was in the courtyard, you will bring her to me."

  "As you wish.” The old man bowed his head, acknowledging the command. He watched the soldier glance about the hut one more time, then quietly closed the door behind Matthew.

  Meryl slowly released her breath.

  "You do that quite well,” the old man chuckled and moved to a corner of the room. He brought bread and cheese out from the cupboard and two cups. After setting them on the table, he filled the cups with fresh ale from the inn.

  "You mean breathe? I should hope so.” Meryl sat back in the chair, relieved the captain was gone. She took a couple of deep breaths, waiting for the adrenaline in her system to settle down.

  "No, I meant the disappearing trick."

  "Oh. As they say, ‘one does what one must.'” Meryl picked up the cup before her and sipped the cool liquid. She studied her benefactor, wondering who and what he was. He didn't seem at all disturbed by her illusion. In fact, he seemed impressed. If he only knew it was the only ‘trick’ she'd been able to master, he wouldn't have thought much of her. So much for witchery and spells. She wondered if he intended to help her escape the town or was he waiting for a more profitable moment to turn her in. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt for now, but the minute she suspected treachery ... Meryl wanted desperately to return to her home in Scotland and knew it wouldn't be easy. “I don't know what to call you,” she realized, wanting to thank him properly for his help.

  "I am known as Emrys."

  Meryl looked up at him. Her hand stopped in midair, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “Why does that name sound familiar?” It had another meaning, besides coincidentally being the name of her newly established clan. She watched him suspiciously while he ate. He only shrugged and said nothing for a moment. His blue eyes conveyed nothing as he stared at her.

  "It's an old name to be sure,” he replied simply. “I think perhaps my mother had great hopes for me.” He chuckled at his own joke. They finished the simple meal in silence.

  Emrys studied his guest, then reached for the chain around her neck. Deftly he lifted the chain and freed the pendant from its hiding place. He rubbed his gnarled fingers over the surface of the jewelry and muttered a few words. He paused a moment then spoke to Meryl. “A portion of this is missing."

  Meryl groaned and thought of how many times people had focused their attention on her pendant. “It isn't missing. I know where it is."

  "No matter. There are some things you must learn before you continue your journey.” He dropped the pendant, his curiosity satisfied for the moment.

  What did he know of her journey? Was he responsible for her separation from Tristan? If so, what could this old man teach her that she'd be willing to trust. Her thoughts were pessimistic. At this point in time, anything that could help her get home would be welcome. Something about his name kept dancing at the edges of her memory, but she couldn't bring it into focus. She hated when that happened, but knew the answer would hit her when she least expected. Whatever the information was, it was couldn't be all that important. She wondered what Emrys was up to, wondered if he was stalling for time to betray her to the English.

  "Nothing so devious,” he chuckled. “There are some things your friends cannot teach you. There are other things you need to know if you will fulfill your destiny."

  "I've been away too long. I must return to my home. Soon.” She looked up from the simple meal, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What do you know about my destiny?"

  His wrinkled expression darkened. “Do you think it was chance brought us together? You are in need of a teacher. Until you learn these things, you will not be safe."

  "I don't think I'll ever be safe until I return to my home. Oh my gosh! I forgot about Dinks. I have to find him.” Meryl bolted from her seat and headed to the door.

  "Not to worry,” Emrys responded calmly. “At the moment, your pet is prowling about the courtyard. He's quite safe. Shall we start your lessons?"

  Meryl listened to Emrys while part of her mind wondered why she stayed here. She was grateful to him for offering her a place of safety when she needed it. She wished she could fathom his motives.

  "What did you feel, each time you experienced one of your adventures in time?” Emrys asked her one evening during supper.

  The question surprised Meryl. She swallowed a bite of bread and washed it down with a sip of ale. “A roiling stomach, mostly,” she replied. “Some confusion."

&nbs
p; "That wasn't what I meant. Did you feel something unusual?” Emrys mopped up the rest of the gravy in his bowl with the last of his bread. After downing the morsel, he smacked his lips in pleasure.

  "Something unusual?” Meryl thought about it a moment. “Well, when I tried to help those people, I always felt an odd warmth here,” and she placed her hand over her stomach. “I put it down to excitement, and fear of failure. It was so important to me that I be able to help those people."

  ""Did it change in any way?"

  "It seemed to be a little warmer, a bit stronger. I don't know, it's hard to describe.” She tilted her head as if something just occurred to her. “I felt it again when I tried to return to Scotland and ended up outside London instead."

  Emrys nodded sagely. “It has begun.” He laughed when Meryl stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. “Do not stare at me that way. I haven't yet lost my mind, child-at least not yet. You will understand in time."

  Meryl said nothing, only shrugged and finished her meal.

  Over the next few days, Emrys filled her head with all sorts of little known facts. The lessons fascinated her, despite her growing frustration with her inability to absorb it all. The old man assured her she would recall her lessons when the need arose.

  * * * *

  "Again,” he insisted in his infuriatingly quiet voice.

  Meryl closed her eyes and concentrated again. She opened them quickly when she bounced off the wall on the opposite side of the room. She took a quick step backward and rubbed the tip of her nose where it had bumped against the rough wall.

  The old man sighed. “How is it, you are able to travel through time, yet you cannot transport yourself across a small room?

  "For one thing,” Meryl answered ruefully, “I don't have control of my time traveling, or I'd have returned to Dun Ceathach long ago. It's as if someone is trying to send me where they want me to be."

  "You must find the control within. Follow me.” Emrys quickly vanished, leaving a startled Meryl alone in the hut.

  "How do I follow you, if I don't know where you've gone?” Meryl spoke into the room.

  "Concentrate and you will find me,” the disembodied voice responded.

  Meryl shrugged. “Nothing ventured..."

  The small room faded and in moments, the young woman found herself in a meadow filled with brilliantly colored flowers. Emrys sat on a fallen log, his weathered face turned up to the warm sun. “Took you long enough to get here, girl,” he commented without looking at her. His eyes remained closed against the brilliant light. “You must concentrate and learn to move quickly."

  "You sound like Yoda,” Meryl mumbled.

  "Is Yoda some magician you have met?"

  "Not likely. He's from another planet—a character from a science fiction novel."

  "Science fiction, another planet,” Emrys repeated doubtfully.

  Meryl knew the folly of trying to explain. “Never mind,” she replied, “you'd have to be there."

  Emrys opened one eye and looked at her, then continued on with his lesson, as if she hadn't said anything so strange. “The power lies within you, in here.” He tapped his chest with a gnarled finger. You must learn to summon it when it's needed. You must also learn to hide it from others. There are those who would gladly try to take what you have."

  "How can anyone steal something intangible?"

  "How does anyone steal power?"

  "Ok, so I need to concentrate harder.” Meryl dropped gracefully to the ground and sat cross-legged before him. She pulled up a flower, sniffed its fragrance, then studied its petals, lightly touching the softness. “Emrys, do you have any idea what I'm doing here?"

  She looked up at the old man, only to see him shrug. “For the last three months, I've been zapped all over time. All I want to do is go home."

  Emrys almost took pity on her. “And where is home, child?” He sat straighter and hid his hands within the wide sleeves of his gray robe.

  "Dun Ceathach, of course. Where else would I go?"

  "You are not of this time."

  "Aren't I? It's strange to say, but I feel more at home here than in my aunt's mansion. I feel as if I've been here before but I have no memory of it. There are still so many questions."

  "What questions?"

  "Who my parents were, why they gave me up. Where do I come from? How have I been able to learn Gaelic so quickly? It's as if certain knowledge has been buried within me for a lifetime and it's just finding it's way to the surface. All I have is this pendant. I know it's the key to everything, but it's not telling me anything."

  "Your pendant holds more answers than you realize. They will be revealed to you when the time is right.” Emrys shifted on the log, trying to get comfortable on the rough surface. “Back to your lessons, child. There isn't much time before the English knight, who becomes wise to your little tricks. By the by, he's not a simple knight or captain of the guard. He is King Edward's champion,"

  "Nothing but the best to track me down; is that it?” Meryl glanced at Emrys’ slight nod, sighed resignedly, and closed her eyes to better concentrate. When she opened them again a moment later, she found herself at the far end of the meadow. She shouted with joy at her achievement.

  Emrys smiled. The child would do well. For the few days she'd been with him, he enjoyed her enthusiasm, but at other times, he didn't understand her sense of humor. In time, he wondered if she would be willing to forgive him for not being forthright with her? He waved to her to join him and was pleased when she popped up in front of him. “You learn quickly. The day will come when you will be able to transport and not give it much thought. Now, we shall go home and enjoy a bite of supper."

  * * * *

  Meryl sipped the honeyed mead Emrys placed before her. She savored the sweet taste. The glow of praise from the old man still flowed through her like the drink she enjoyed. She was having fun learning things from him. Somehow, she felt as if she'd known him forever. “Tell me of my family,” she blurted out. Why she asked him that she had no idea, and she didn't know why she thought he'd know about her parentage.

  The old man stared at here, surprise animating his weathered features. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again without making a sound. What could he tell her? The truth? He searched his feelings and realized the time wasn't yet right for him to say anything.

  "Don't bother to deny it,” she warned, not pleased with his hesitation. Why wouldn't he tell her what he knew? She was absolutely sure—or as sure as she could be—that he could solve the mystery regarding her family. She kept her voice light, not wanting to offend the only person who'd been willing to help her.

  "You do know, you will run into the king's champion sooner or later. You cannot avoid him forever.” Emrys sidestepped her question with the observation.

  "I'm not worried about him. He's got enough to deal with, without taking time to hunt down a little nobody like me. Tell me about my family. You know who my parents are, or were, don't you?” She watched him over the rim of her cup. The smooth drink soothed her throat. Jumping from one time to another, or even one place to another in the same time, was hard work but she believed she was finally getting the hang of it. If only she could control where she landed when it came to longer time and distances. Meryl sighed. “Well?” she asked again, growing impatient with him.

  "It's not my place to say,” he replied carefully, then quickly added, “assuming I knew anything, that is.” He took a mortar and pestle down from a shelf near the hearth, then stretched and grabbed a bunch of herbs hanging from the rafters. He pushed his supper bowl aside to make room for his work, and concentrated on grinding the herbs to a fine powder. “You must learn, there is a time and place for everything."

  "I know, I know.” Her patience was wearing thin. “I've heard that all my life. But the place is here, and the time is now.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Please, Emrys. As long as I can remember, I've wondered about them, wanted to know why they didn't
keep me with them.” She stared into her empty cup for a moment then looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. “You don't know what it feels like to be an outsider all your life. To know you're nothing like the family you grew up in. They look at you with a hint of pity because you're not like them. I need to know where I come from, who I belong to. Can't you understand that?"

  Emrys considered her request, understanding her feelings better than she realized. He kept his head bent while he worked at grinding the contents of the wooden bowl, taking his time as he applied pressure to the dried herbs. He continued to grind them until they were almost as fine as dust. He didn't want to look at Meryl, fearing she would read the sorrow in his eyes. She was very good at that. It was about time to send her on her way. He closed away all emotion, and schooled his features. When he felt he'd regained control, he looked up at her again, gently laying the pestle within its bowl. “The answers to all your questions will come to you, sooner than you think. You must wait until then. All things in their time, child, all things in their time."

  He cleared his throat then reached for the carafe and held it out, offering its contents. “More mead, my dear?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Matthew stood at the shore of the loch while his horse drank the cold clear water. His men were tired, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his home in England. The wished for journey wouldn't take place anytime soon; at least not until he found the girl. After she'd disappeared from London, he'd gathered his men and headed, once again, for Scotland. He pushed his men relentlessly, knowing sooner or later, he'd find her somewhere in the highlands.

  A meeting with Graeme Comyn in Edinburg, turned out to be a loss of precious time. The Scot didn't know where she had disappeared. No one knew anything about her. Three months of wasted time, searching for a snip of a girl. He should be home seeing to the business of his own country, not here, in this godforsaken land, chasing half-wild highlanders. There was still Eleanor and that blasted betrothal to deal with. She was determined to see the marriage through and was doing whatever she could to force him into compliance. Matthew was at his wits’ end over the trying situation. He frowned, trying to decide what his next move should be, both with Eleanor and the pale eyed wench he couldn't find.