“If you continue as you have begun,” he said to the archer, “and we do not find that you have lied to us, there is hope for you. Cross us, and you will be dead before you see it coming. You”—he looked at the lad—“stay standing. ’Tis too easy to let your mind wander or your eyes close if you sit.”
The lad nodded vigorously, and Duncan headed back up the ben, fatigue and an empty belly finally catching up with him.
When he reached the bower he found the Guardians and their husbands huddled together near a small fire. Scotia was tied to a tree, and he could tell she was focused entirely on the whispered conversation, though he doubted she could hear much of it. She looked tired, but something about her had changed once again. Where she had lost her unique spark earlier, when she confessed her sins, she now almost glowed with it.
“You have missed much, laddie.” Peigi surprised him. He must truly be tired not to have noticed her sitting on a large stone just next to where he stood. She held out a hand to him, and he helped her to her feet. “I set aside a few bannocks for you, though I was not able to bring the evening’s stew with me when they forced me out of the cave site.” She opened a pouch hanging from her belt and handed him three bannocks.
They were dry, but he was hungry enough he cared not.
“Duncan is here,” Peigi announced then, startling the group by the fire as if they, too, had not known she was there.
He heard Scotia say his name, but he did not look at her. He was afraid he would forgive her for what she had done this day, and he was not ready to do that.
“What has happened?” he asked.
“It would seem the Guardians have a plan for Scotia, and they will not condone any sort of punishment for her until they are done with her,” Nicholas said, clearly irritated with the wife he adored.
“I believe—” Scotia started to speak, and he almost looked at her.
“She makes a compelling case that she is the third Guardian, Duncan,” Rowan said. “We must find out if she is right before we do anything else.”
“But nothing happened when she found the broken-arrow symbol upon the Story Stone,” he said. “When Jeanette found—” He stopped. He looked at Scotia, and suddenly he understood. “What makes you think you are worthy now?”
THE FORCE OF Duncan’s question pushed Scotia back against the tree. His eyes were narrowed, and his hands were fisted by his side. The pain and distrust she saw in him opened up a hollow place in her chest that she feared only he could fill. She tried to rub it away with the heel of her hand, only to be harshly reminded that she was still trussed up like a prisoner.
She dropped her hands back into her lap, took a deep breath, and tried to steady her nerves. This was too important not to tread carefully, but absolutely truthfully, with Duncan.
“I dinna ken if I am worthy,” she began, choosing her words with care, “but I understand the symbol now, and Jeanette said only the one meant for that symbol would understand it.” She explained what she had figured out to him, just as she had twice already, once to the Guardians and once to their Protectors. She watched him as she spoke, trying to determine if he believed her, but she could see no change in his expression or posture.
When she stopped speaking everyone waited for him to say something, but he just stared at her.
“We must take her back to the Story Stone, Duncan,” Jeanette said, her voice pitched low, as if she spoke to a wild animal easily spooked. “We must find out if she is truly meant to be a Guardian. She may be the piece that we are missing. She may be the key to creating a true Highland Targe. Rowan and I have tried and tried to create one without success. Small barriers, aye, we can do that, but we cannot make one that could protect this route into the Highlands. If she is a third Guardian . . .”
“It is too dangerous to take anyone to the Story Stone meadow,” Duncan said. “The English could be as little as a day away. Lord Sherwood may have sent other scouting parties ahead. There is no cover there, no way to keep two Guardians safe.”
“We can keep ourselves safe, Duncan,” Rowan said, an edge to her voice that Scotia well recognized from when she did or said something her cousin did not like. “We, the Guardians and the Protectors, have decided this must be done. Malcolm has a plan for how to make it as safe as possible for everyone. We leave before dawn.”
“So she has convinced you to put all of us at risk for her scheme?”
“Duncan!” There was scorn in his words, but Scotia knew they were meant for her, not Rowan, and that he would hate himself come dawn for speaking to the Guardian in such a disrespectful manner, and that, too, would be her fault. “Duncan, please, listen to me.”
She desperately wanted to stand. Sitting looking up at him as she said what must be said left her feeling helpless and all too vulnerable, but there was naught she could do about that right now. “I ken I have hurt you and destroyed whatever trust I had earned from you, but this is not for me. This is for the clan. This is a way that I can be of service to everyone I have wronged. It may not change the way I am thought of, but that is not at issue. The safety of the clan, the protection of the Highlands, and the chance to do what needs doing for the right reasons, that is what is important. That is what you have taught me, though I was late to understanding the lessons. If I fail to be chosen as a Guardian, so be it. But if I can make it possible to create a true Targe, then we have to try. Aye?”
“Listen to the lassie,” Peigi said softly. “Listen with your heart and you will hear that she speaks from hers.”
Scotia pressed her lips together and blinked away the moisture that tried to gather in her eyes. Peigi believed her.
“There is one more thing I must say to you, Duncan,” Scotia said before he said anything that might dash the hope that still flickered in her. “There is one last lie that I must own up to, and for it I ask your forgiveness, for I told it to hurt you when you did not deserve any more hurt than I had already caused.”
He looked away from her, and she thought he closed his eyes.
“Please, Duncan, look at me. Please?”
He turned his gaze back to her, but his face was devoid of any emotion as if his heart had frozen against her, and she knew it was too late. She could not mend what she had broken so completely, but she still must tell him the truth. She had promised herself no more lies.
“Duncan, I told you I held no love for you in my heart. ’Twas a lie. ’Twas an evil, hateful lie. I dinna ken when it started, but I ken now that I have loved you for as long as I can remember. At first I idolized you like a big brother, but you are not my brother, and as I have grown, so my feelings have changed and grown, too. You have lavished your care and attention on me my whole life. You have watched over me, kept me safe, even from myself at times. You have been my teacher, my guide, my rock, and lately you have been my friend, and I threw it all away with my . . . when I should have . . .”
She steadied herself, determined not to shed a single tear though her heart was truly breaking, and she knew beyond doubt that she had done this to herself.
“I am sorry, Duncan, more than you can know, that I did not have the room in my heart to allow these feelings out. I love you, Duncan, and I hope someday you can find a way to forgive me for the terrible things I have done. I hope, someday, we might be”—she took a deep breath—“friends again.”
Duncan stared at her for a long, long moment, then without a word to anyone, he left.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SCOTIA HAD NOT slept at all, even though Jeanette had decided, against both Nicholas’s and Malcolm’s wishes, to cut her loose from the tree. Sometime in the night she had heard Peigi join one of the groups of people passing near the bower on their way back to the caves and was grateful that they had not needed to abandon the glen altogether, and that Peigi could return to her heather mattress in the great cave. If the clan had not been able to return to the caves, that would have also been her fault, but as usual Duncan, with the help of the MacKenzies, had saved th
e clan from that necessity.
As Scotia lay on the cold ground, wrapped in a plaid, she stared across the small space at her sister, wrapped in the arms of Malcolm, and her cousin, asleep with her head in Nicholas’s lap as he kept watch. A loneliness so deep it stopped her breath pulled at her, as if it might tear her apart, bit by bit, and the distance between herself and the others in the bower seemed to stretch and grow, leaving her more alone than ever.
She missed her mum. She missed the light that used to shine in her da’s eyes when she was a wean and got into mischief. She missed the way Duncan would take her hand and draw her away from trouble with the promise of a story or a sweet when she was little, and how of late he had driven her in her training to be faster, stronger, better.
She missed the smell of him, and the sure touch of his hands upon her when he stood close behind her and helped her adjust the angle of her sword, or the position of her shield.
She missed the kisses they had shared, the passion he had roused in her, and wished with all her heart that she had taken it upon herself to kiss him just one more time before she had thrown everything away.
Duncan had loved her, though she doubted he ever would again. All she could do to prove that she had changed was to live the lessons he’d taught her, both the warrior lessons and the smaller lessons he had tried to teach her for years about how to be a better person, how to think of others first, and how to mind her emotions so they did not continue to put her and those around her in danger. He might never love her again, and for that she could not blame him, but perhaps, in time, they might find a way to be friends, true friends this time, for she would think of his needs before her own, as he always did for her. It was not all that she wanted, not nearly, but it would be something. It would have to be enough.
She rolled over, putting her back to the Guardians and their husbands, and pulled her plaid tightly to her as she tried to put everything out of her mind. But there, deep within, she knew that Duncan kept a restless watch not far away. Tears gathered but, as always, she refused to let them fall. She would always know where Duncan was.
AS SOON AS the sky began to lighten with the coming day Jeanette had scried with her cup and could see no trouble for them at the Story Stone, though as always, she said she could not promise she had seen this specific day. Truly they did not have a choice, even if there was trouble waiting for them there. Once the English moved into Glen Lairig ’twould be too dangerous to go to the stone, and the Guardians were sure, as was Scotia, that if she were chosen as another Guardian, it would happen at the Story Stone.
When the two Guardians, their Protectors, Duncan, and Scotia left the Guardians’ bower and the Glen of Caves for the Story Stone meadow, the sky was changing from pale grey to the bright blue of a summer’s morn, embellished with lacy clouds in shades of pinks and purples. Birds twittered and sang all around them, a dawn chorus that usually pleased Scotia, but this morning she found the noise not melodic and beautiful but loud, and each bird at odds with the others until the sound battered at her senses, making her grumpy and out of sorts, though she did her best to keep her feelings to herself.
They did not take a direct route to the stone, but rather searched out Kenneth, Uilliam, and the contingent of warriors they had been working with to set up traps and ambushes for the English. That project would have to wait until this test was complete. For now, every warrior they could find must accompany them to the meadow, leaving only enough to keep watch for the English. The safety of the Guardians came before all else.
Each time they gathered more of the MacAlpin warriors, Duncan would move to the back of the growing group. He told Nicholas he would watch the rear, but Scotia knew, without her gift, that he really sought to put more distance, and more people, between the two of them. He had not looked at her all morning, nor answered her quiet “good morn.”
She wanted to demand his attention, and she would have once gotten into some mischief to get it, but this time she knew better. She knew she could not force him to talk to her, or even to look at her, and she knew any “mischief” she got into now would put lives in danger, so she kept her place near the front of the group, just behind Jeanette and Rowan, and tried to forget that Duncan was not next to her.
The two Protectors, along with her da and Uilliam, led the group, and a contingent of six warriors surrounded the front and sides where the Guardians walked. Just behind Scotia came the rest of their fighting force, leaving Scotia as the only individual in the group with no particular role to play should they find trouble, though Nicholas had surprised her when they woke before dawn by telling her to bring her weapons. She had gladly strapped her sword and her dagger at her waist, and taken up her round wooden shield. Part of her wished they would find trouble so she could prove her warrior skills, but she knew that would be a terrible thing. Besides, if her wishes really could come true, Scotia would shortly find herself a Guardian, and she, Rowan, and Jeanette would, on the spot if they could, erect a true Highland Targe, stopping the English before they ever set foot in Glen Lairig. But wishing had never accomplished anything for Scotia.
Despite the cool of the deep wood, she wiped her sweaty hands on her trews and pushed the stray tendrils of her hair that always escaped her braid off her sticky face.
As they drew close to the Story Stone, Malcolm gave orders, spreading most of the warriors just inside the perimeter of the meadow to keep watch for anyone who approached, and to stop anyone who did, at all cost. Her da and Uilliam would join that contingent, as would Duncan. The remaining eight warriors were to come to the stone with the Guardians, the Protectors, and Scotia.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Last night you agreed I would be in the inner perimeter.”
“Aye, but I had a chance to sleep on it and decided different this morn,” Malcolm said. “Nicholas agrees.”
“But he should come with us,” Scotia said, then immediately regretted it when both Malcolm and Duncan turned black looks her way. She threw up her hands. “I am not a Guardian, so what I want has nothing to do with this.” She turned away and bit her bottom lip, determined to keep silent until the she and the Guardians were at the stone, though she wanted him by her side as she faced her future.
He was the one who understood her gift best, better even than she did, so if things did not go as she and the Guardians hoped they would, his counsel might be of great help. But maybe that was why they sent him away. Maybe they did not want him helping her. She turned back to find him staring at her, but he quickly averted his gaze.
“Keep them safe,” he said to Malcolm and Nicholas. The champion and the chief just nodded, and they all prepared to take up their positions. Duncan disappeared silently in the direction that Kenneth and Uilliam had taken. The women and the remaining warriors waited for the signal that all was clear in the perimeter, then headed carefully out to the standing stone.
As soon as they reached the hillock where the English had held Scotia, she led the Guardians around to the far side of the stone and showed them the symbols she had found the last time she and Duncan were here.
Jeanette stood, staring at the carvings, while Rowan knelt upon the ground, opened the ermine sack, and spread it so the Highland Targe stone sat in the middle, on top of the three swirls in a circle symbol. The unclaimed broken-arrow symbol was closest to the Story Stone. The warrior in Scotia was happy that she would have something to protect her back while, at least in the direction she was facing, she would be able to see any trouble approaching in time to prepare for battle.
“You may need to touch the Story Stone, Scotia,” Rowan said, “as Jeanette was in contact with the stone in the grotto that holds the mirror symbol when she was chosen as a Guardian.”
“How will I know if I need to?” she asked.
Rowan shrugged. Jeanette settled in her spot to Scotia’s right, and shook her head.
“Trust your instincts,” Jeanette said, as she pulled her small wooden scrying cup from a fold of her arisaid and held
it up for Malcolm to fill it to overflowing with water from a skin. Jeanette set the water in front of her, near the edge of the ermine sack. “If you feel you should touch the stone, do.”
“That is not much guidance, sister.”
“It is not. Perhaps someday we will understand enough to teach the next Guardian better, but for now, this is the best we can do.”
“Jeanette? The blessing?” Rowan said, her auburn brows raised.
“Aye.” Jeanette said the words none of them understood while gracefully flowing her hands through the air in the series of symbols Elspet had taught her. “We should set up a barrier, too, as we have done in the bower.”
Rowan nodded. Without a word she lifted the Targe stone in her hands and held it heart high. Jeanette touched the water lightly with the fingers of her right hand and the stone with her left. Almost immediately Scotia felt a prickle on her skin as a barrier that could not be seen, but could be felt, spread out from the stone until it surrounded the three women, the standing stone, and the two Protectors. The other five warriors created a perimeter just outside the edge of the barrier. Scotia was surprised.
“No wind?” She looked at Rowan. Usually Rowan’s gift was accompanied by at least a breeze.
“Only when I use my specific gift,” Rowan said, settling the Targe back on its sack. “Let us begin.” Then both Guardians looked at Scotia.
“Am I to do something?” Scotia asked
“Do whatever makes sense to you,” Jeanette said.
Scotia considered this lack of direction, then decided to look at it as Duncan had taught her to assess a foe she knew nothing about. She started with the little she did know, putting together the common pieces of both Rowan’s and Jeanette’s experiences. Rowan was touching Elspet when the Targe chose her, a direct transfer from the old Guardian to the new. Jeanette was touching the stone in the grotto with the symbol for her gift inscribed upon it when she was chosen and her gift burst through her.
Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) Page 19