by Donna Grant
“How do you know there was a first one?” Lachlan asked.
Synne eyed him, wondering why he wouldn’t look at her. “It’s how witches came into being. The First Witch, Trea, was Norse. The Vikings revered women who had such power, and Trea had a lot of it. So did her three sisters, but nothing compared to Trea. When she died, she had her followers scatter her bones and burn the rest of her body so her sisters couldn’t use her in death. Her sisters began the Coven.”
Lachlan remained silent.
Synne licked her lips and continued. “Braith and Leoma found the Blood Skull—Trea’s skull—and Braith learned from it that he was its Warden. It wasn’t long after that we found the Staff of the Eternal—a weapon containing the thigh bone of the First Witch—but, unfortunately, we lost it. A witch named Sybbyl took it and killed the three elders of the Coven. She now rules, the staff giving her immense power.” Synne adjusted her cloak and quickly glanced at Lachlan before she began again.
“But we still have Helena. She is a direct descendant of Trea, and thereby the Heart. Thankfully, Helena fights for us. It isn’t enough, though. During the fight, Sybbyl got away and attacked our home, killing everyone inside the abbey, including Radnar and Edra. I was in the forest at the time, unable to get to them to help.”
“That’s why you’re in Scotland now?”
Synne nodded her head. “Sybbyl to locate another bone, but she’s also here to find the Varroki, a group of witches and warlocks who have battled the Coven since the First Witch died. They’ve kept their location hidden. I’m going to them.”
“Do you know where to find them?”
“No, but Malene, their leader, said that I would be able to find the way.”
Lachlan made a sound. “And you believe her?”
“I do. I know that Sybbyl will eventually find the Varroki, and I know that I’ll be there waiting for her when she does.”
“It’s one woman against how many of these Varroki?”
Synne shuddered. “Sybbyl isn’t alone.”
“How many witches are with her?”
“It isn’t the witches I’m concerned with. It’s the Gira.”
Lachlan’s head finally swiveled to her. “The what?”
“Gira. They’re tree nymphs. Their skin looks like the bark of trees, so you pass right by them and don’t even know it. Their whispers draw people to them. Once close enough, the Gira take them, locking them inside the tree to torture and eat at will.”
Lachlan stared at her for a moment before facing forward again. “That is some tale, lass.”
“It’s the truth.”
4
Of all the things Lachlan had thought Synne might tell him, he’d never imagined it would be about witches and magic. She was so absorbed in her tale that she hadn’t yet realized that he wasn’t shocked by her mention of magic.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Synne replied. “If we don’t win, the Coven will raze everything you know and love to the ground.”
Lachlan swallowed and watched Synne out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t reply, not because he didn’t have a response, but because he chose not to utter it.
Her mare came to a sudden halt and tossed her head back. “Either you think I’m daft and you’re humoring me, or…you already know about the Coven.”
He blew out a breath and pulled at the reins to halt his steed. Lachlan briefly closed his eyes before he turned his mount around to face Synne. “I doona think you’re daft.”
“So, you know.”
He gave a single nod. “I know about witches and magic. You can no’ live in this land, especially this forest, and no’ know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Synne asked with narrowed eyes.
Lachlan swept his arm around him. “Take a look. This forest is massive. Do you no’ think that beings take refuge in such a place?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
There was a bite to her words now. She had been distrustful before, but now she was even more so. Not that he blamed her. Lachlan pointed to the side. “There is a Witch’s Grove in that direction.”
Synne glared at him for a long, silent moment.
He lowered his arm. Then, he spoke the words he’d never said aloud to another soul. “I know because my grandmother was a witch.”
Still, Synne said nothing.
“It’s a secret kept from everyone,” he said. “No one in my clan knows, except for my family.”
“Not even your laird?”
“My father is the laird.”
If it was possible, Synne’s eyes became even icier. Lachlan ran a hand over his jaw. “My grandmother had the gift of healing. No one questioned her knowledge of herbs. Only rarely did she use magic. The last time was when my mother had difficulty while birthing me. My grandmother used magic to try and keep my mother alive, but it wasna enough. She died that night.”
“I’m sorry about your mother.”
“Mine isna the only one to die in childbirth, nor will she be the last, I wager.”
“Did your grandmother mention the Coven?”
Lachlan glanced at the ground and nodded. “About a year before she passed, she got a visit from two women. They wouldna talk to anyone but my grandmother. They didna stay long, but after they left, my grandmother ordered my father to never allow them anywhere near the castle again. A few months later, reports came in of strange happenings. My grandmother said only three words. ‘It’s the Coven.’”
“Usually, when they come for a witch, asking for them to be a part of the Coven, they kill her if she declines.”
“Grandmother was an old, frail woman by that point. Perhaps they knew she wasna worth killing.”
“Or she joined them.”
Fury rose up in Lachlan with such intensity that it startled him. He fought not to reach for his sword. “If the Coven is what you say they are, she never would’ve joined.”
“Or she would’ve to save her family.”
Lachlan didn’t want to believe it. Then again, how could he be sure what Synne told him about the Coven was even true?
“You know about magic. You know about witches and Witch’s Groves, and you’ve even heard of the Coven,” Synne said. “There are few places that haven’t been hit by the Coven. Their witches thrive on hurting the innocent. It’s why we Hunters began. When we hear of such things, we track down the witch or witches and kill them. It’s what I’ve trained for my entire life. And I intend to continue doing it. Because someone has to stop the Coven.”
Synne rode past him without looking his way. Lachlan remained where he was, thinking over her words. It was true that many strange and inexplicable things happened to the surrounding clans. But never his people. Could it be because his grandmother had joined the Coven? She had never done anything evil, and he knew that she wouldn’t have joined the Coven if they were as Synne said. Then again, he was only guessing. He had no idea what his grandmother had done because she refused to discuss it with anyone.
Lachlan turned his horse back around and nudged it into a canter to catch up with Synne. He slowed the gelding when he pulled up alongside the Hunter. While he hadn’t grown up with magic, he’d known his grandmother had…unique…gifts. It wasn’t until he was much older that she’d told him she was a witch.
“I understand why you don’t believe me about the Coven,” Synne said into the silence. “I wasn’t keen on taking your word for who you were at first, either.”
“Magic isna something that is talked about. When it is, there’s always a thread of fear with it.”
Synne turned her head to him, meeting his gaze. Her amber eyes held no anger or wariness. “The majority of people don’t know about witches. They’re the lucky ones.”
“I wouldna say that. I knew a witch, and I loved her dearly.”
“True,” Synne said and looked forward. “I loved a witch. Thought of her as my mother. Edra was an amazing woman, but my life would’ve been much different had I not
known what I do.”
Lachlan made a sound in the back of his throat. “Anyone can say that about anything in their lives. I wouldna be surrounded by so much war and death if I hadna been born a male and become such an adept warrior. This is my path. I’ve accepted it. You must accept yours.”
“I thought my path was as a Hunter.”
“Why has that changed? Because Edra and Radnar died? You think to stop being what they trained you to be to help yourself and others, simply because their lives were lost?”
Synne cut him a sideways look, her lips flattened. “When you put it that way, nay.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a gift, one that they saw in you. It’s now up to you to keep others safe from the Coven. And to teach others what you’ve been taught regarding weapons and witches.”
“You make it sound so easy, but I can’t infuse weapons with magic to give the Hunters an edge against the Coven.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps no’, but there are other witches out there who will want to fight against the Coven. No’ all of them will so readily join the Coven’s ranks. And did you no’ tell me about the Heart?”
“Helena,” Synne said and glanced at him. “She could use her magic for the weapons.”
“There you go, then.”
Synne rolled her eyes while shaking her head. “This isn’t something that I can do in a month or even a year. Radnar and Edra spent many years fortifying the abbey and teaching us to become Hunters. We don’t have that kind of time. Sybbyl has already attacked us. She’s going after the Varroki next.”
“Aye. The warlocks.”
“And witches,” Synne added.
Lachlan patted his horse’s neck. “They sound powerful.”
“They are.”
“But you’re worried.”
She nodded slowly. “Edra was powerful as well, and she wasn’t the only witch there. But…the Varroki are something altogether different. Do you know of them?”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re very secretive.”
“They must be if you doona even know how to find them for sure.”
She grinned, the movement transforming her face into something ethereal. “I was told to go north. That I’d eventually find them.”
Lachlan’s brows rose. “You do know we’re on an isle, right?”
Synne laughed, the sound going straight to his cock and making his balls tighten. He’d never heard anything so beautiful before, so sweet. Amber eyes glanced his way, clearly unaware of what she was doing to him.
“Of course,” she said. Then she shook her head, a grin still upon her lips. “I’ve not laughed in days. It feels…odd.”
He shifted in the saddle and found his gaze lingering on her no matter how hard he tried to look away.
They rode in silence after that. Lachlan constantly scanned the trees, looking for danger. Synne did the same, but her idea of enemies was something altogether different. By the time he pulled his horse to a stop, the sun was sinking fast. After they had seen to their horses, Synne grabbed her bow and arrows and walked away.
He hadn’t been left behind to get firewood since he was a young lad. It made Lachlan grin, but he didn’t mind. Synne was a breath of fresh air. At times, he wasn’t sure what to make of her, and at others, he was in awe.
The fire was roaring by the time she returned with two hares. They skinned them and set them up to roast. He waited until she leaned against one of the tall pines with a contented smile on her face before he said, “My grandmother spoke highly of those who could converse with plants. You’re such a person.”
Synne looked at him over the fire. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s the look on your face. You seem…happier…when you’re touching the trees. When I first came upon you, you were giving that oak a hug.”
She scratched her neck and twisted her lips. “I imagine I looked peculiar.”
“Nay,” he replied. “Content. You looked verra content. And you spoke to it.”
“It let me know you were there.”
He quirked a brow. “So, you do converse with them.”
“Not in the way you think. They don’t tell me things with words. More like…feelings.”
Lachlan held her gaze. “Tell me more. Please.”
5
Few had ever asked Synne what it was like to speak with trees. Everyone at the abbey had accepted her gift without question. The Hunters had been curious but rarely wanted to know anything more. Not having to describe it made it difficult for her to put it into words now.
“You doona have to,” Lachlan said when she paused.
Synne shook her head and stretched her legs out toward the fire to heat her feet. “I’m trying to find the words.”
“You were doing good before,” he replied with a half-smile.
That made her grin and glance down at her hands. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he made her nervous. But that was ridiculous. He was just a man.
A handsome one with eyes that seemed to spear her.
She shook off that nonsense and settled back against the oak, promising herself that she wouldn’t move again. “I feel safer amongst the trees. For as far back as I can remember, the need to be near them, to touch them, was present.”
“Did you always live in or near a forest?”
Synne’s gaze dropped to the dancing flames. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened to my family. Edra and Radnar found me wandering the woods when I was very young. I don’t know if I was abandoned or taken or something else. I was alone, and then I wasn’t. Edra tried many times to see if she could help me determine what had happened, but not even magic could give me answers.”
“So, you turned to the trees,” Lachlan surmised.
“They’ve always been a constant in my life.” Synne reached back and put a palm against the bark. “They’ve given me shelter, hidden me high in their limbs against enemies, alerted me when danger was near, and let me know when I was safe.” She paused and frowned as she met Lachlan’s gray eyes. “They also prevented me from getting to the abbey when Sybbyl attacked with her Gira.”
Lachlan blew out a breath and studied her. “You have a special relationship with the trees. They wanted to make sure you were no’ harmed.”
“I could’ve helped my friends.”
“Or you could’ve been killed along with them. As much as you hurt now, it’s apparent that your destiny lay elsewhere.”
She shrugged her shoulders and fiddled with the edge of her cloak. “I feel like I let my family down.”
“You’re fighting against the Coven. That isna letting them down. For all you know, perhaps Edra made sure you couldna get to them. She wanted to give you a chance.”
“Finding them…” She looked away and swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.
“Aye. I know that feeling,” he said in a soft voice as he looked into the fire. “It’s happened to me as well, and it’s no’ something you ever forget. You learn to live with it, though.”
Synne found her gaze drawn to him. No warrior could survive battles and not have wounds and scars, both visible and invisible. She wanted him to talk more about it so she could learn more about him. But, in truth, he didn’t need to. It was there on his face, in his voice.
She hadn’t meant to take them down such a dark road, and it was better for both of them if they pulled themselves out quickly. Synne cleared her throat. “As I said, the trees don’t give me words as you and I would exchange, but more a…feeling. It’s difficult to describe. It’s like it passes from them into me.”
“Do you have to be touching them?”
“I always have before.”
“I saw you hesitate to come into the forest. For someone who loves it so much, you didna want to venture inside.”
Synne looked up at the branches above her and saw the darkening sky through them. “It’s the Gira.”
“Do the trees no’ warn you
of them?”
“Aye, they do.”
He raised a brow. “I’m no’ understanding, lass.”
Synne looked at him and drew in a breath. “It makes no sense, I know. The Gira terrify me in ways I can’t explain. When the forest warned me of their approach near the abbey, I froze. They can be killed, and while they have magic, I shouldn’t be more afraid of them than I am of the witches.”
“It does little good to be angry at yourself for emotions you can no’ control.”
“I’m a Hunter. I have to control such things.”
His gaze was steady as he stared at her. “How many times have you encountered the Gira?”
“Once.”
“When they attacked your friends?”
“And I couldn’t fight against them.”
Lachlan was silent for a long moment. “Are you sure you’ve no’ encountered them before?”
“Trust me, I’d know if I’d faced them before.”
“What else are you afraid of?”
Being alone. She didn’t say the words aloud, though. It had taken her years to get past that, only to find herself alone once more. Was she destined never to have a family? Maybe there was something wrong with her.
Lachlan leaned to the side and propped himself on a forearm. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. No matter how many times I go into battle, my stomach feels as if I have bees buzzing around. Then the fighting starts, and I forget about it.”
“I have a healthy dose of respect for witches. I know how powerful they can be, especially Sybbyl. Do I fear them? No. Nor do I fear death.”
“Just the Gira, then.”
Synne nodded once, hating to admit it.
“No one has such a fear without it being warranted.”
“What are you saying?” she demanded with a frown.
He tossed a pebble into the fire. “Only that there’s a reason you’re afraid of the Gira. Was it the stories someone told you?”
“We were taught with facts.”
Synne didn’t care that her words were laced with anger. She shifted and turned the rabbits to cook on the other side before she settled back against the tree.