Redboots held his gaze. The burning wood crackled. He took a deep breath and then sat back down. “I would do the same for one of our young,” he admitted. He took a long drink and then waved someone over. “A piece of coal.”
He sketched a map on the hard rock floor. He scratched out the countryside surrounding the stream and waterfall. He sketched the coast line in the distance and a large dark circle. Then he added a low ridge of mountains and drew an X in a valley on the other side.
“Find the castle on the edge of the loch. Nearby, there’s a cluster of huts. There’s a woman there, dirty and poor and swollen with child, or maybe she’s had it already. She has no mate. No one will miss it, maybe not even her. There’s none of mine there: it’s a place of anger and tears. The local lord keeps to the castle. There’s only three families in the settlement and a church with a caved-in roof.” He threw the coal onto the ground. “Can you find it?”
Micol, who had sat in silence throughout, scuttled forward to look. The map was perfectly precise, including the exact location of their Sithein. Domnall nodded. They could follow it easily.
“What’s that circle there?” Micol asked the question confidentially as if she knew the lay of the land. Unfortunately, her question proved that she didn’t.
“It’s a huge human settlement,” said Domnall.
Her eyes sparkled in the fire light. “Can we see it one day?”
“Aberdeen,” scowled Redboots. “Dark and loud and full of smoke. Be my guest, there’s none of mine there either.”
“No, we can’t.” Domnall sighed. Her curiosity was both her best and worst trait. “It’s too dangerous. Forget it.” He turned towards Redboots. “I know well the value of what you have given. Thank you.”
“You should go at first light, see if the mortal is there for you to . . . if the baby is there. You may rest here.” He looked at Domnall. “If all of your people used words as true as yours, we would . . .”
He smiled. “My people don’t thank me for my words.”
“Nor mine for my patience.” Redboots shook his head but his eyes glinted with laughter. “You can sleep here. You can stay here by the fire but I ask you not to leave the cavern until you are ready to be on your way.” He left the jug next to Domnall. “You’ll need that, I think.” He turned towards Micol. “Learn from him, young Seelie. He’s the best teacher you could have.” Then he disappeared into the darkness of the tunnels, leaving them with their guards.
Domnall reached for the bottle and took a sip. “Want another drink?”
She shook her head. “Why . . .” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Why do you avoid the large human settlement? It must be full of babes.”
“It’s hard to explain. The mortals there, they are different. If you go to those places, their cities, you’ll feel it as soon as you draw near.” He frowned. “I don’t know how to describe it. Less substantial. Whenever I’ve been there, I felt as if I might fade away.” He stopped and took a long drink. His voice was hoarse when he continued. “It’s a bad place, Micol. The nearby Sitheins are all empty. The fae have simply disappeared.” He stopped. It sounded like a frightening tale from the nursery, not a report from a hardened scout. He took another drink. “You should sleep. Tomorrow at first light we’ll go to the castle and see if the babe is there. We can cut back through the hills to the Sithein. We’ll have no time to rest again before Nighean is safe with the woman.”
Micol made no move, her eyes filled with questions.
He drained the jug and lay down on the ground by the fire with his back to her. He heard the rustle of her dress and quiet footsteps as she moved to the other side of the pit. Eventually, he heard her breathing go soft and steady. He closed his eyes and joined her in his dreams.
* * *
Domnall knelt in the dark shadow of the brambles, arms wrapped around his shoulders against the damp chill. Every drop of rain stabbed straight through his skull. He shut his eyes against the pain. His entire body ached. Another hour or two of sleep would soothe his pounding head, but the image of Nighean shivering with fever kept him focused.
Domnall glanced behind him to the clearing where he’d left Micol: he told her she would be better placed to watch the castle from there. She was safe in the shadows of the hills and he could move at his own pace. Once they’d arrived, she became impatient to see the humans and head back. She needed to learn patience if she was going to survive close contact with the mortals. Also, her chatter made his head hurt worse. The afternoon sun began to dip as he kept watch, looking for a safe opportunity to spy on the babe.
It was a sorry place, a small cluster of just half a dozen houses overshadowed by a stone castle on a hill. A small shed leaned precariously towards the end of the dirt path, with the carcass of a boat lying overturned next to it, the wood rotting through. Beyond the buildings the land sloped downwards to the sea. Half a dozen scrawny sheep wandered aimlessly behind the house closest to him, as if looking for their flock.
The snow had melted under the constant onslaught of the drizzling rain but the air was still frigid, as if a fresh snowfall were lying in wait. He couldn’t remember the last time they had a spring this slow to appear. Like everything else, it was better in the old days.
Domnall’s thoughts were interrupted with a screech from the hut. “I willnae go to some godforsaken convent!”
“Yer nae staying here, corrupting this wee bairn with your ways!”
“Ooh, now ye’ve seen it’s a boy, ye want me out of the way? Just the same as him, take what ye wid and damn the consequences. You should be ashamed!”
“Dinna ye dare compare me to the de’il ye lay with!”
“Yer all bastards, every one of you!”
Domnall heard a hollow thunk, followed by the man’s voice quivering with rage.
“Get out of my house, you slut!”
The door opened. A pale, slim woman with curly hair backed onto the doorstep, away from a wiry old man wielding a cane high in the air.
It landed hard on her shoulder as she turned to escape. She stumbled back and into the lane where she collided with a red-faced man who had rushed out of the falling-down church.
“Elspeth,” he gasped as he tried to grab her shoulders, keep her upright. “Slow down, lass, ye’ll hurt yourself! You’re in no condition to be running!”
The front door of her house slammed shut, a muffled “And dinna come back” shouted from inside.
Elspeth burst into tears. The man looked about, hopeful that someone would come and take her out of his hands. A rough burlap curtain twitched in a window, but no one appeared.
“Shhhh,” he said. “Shh, dinna cry. Ye’ll be awl right. God will provide if you ask his forgiveness and put your life in his hands.”
Elspeth began crying even harder. The man looked around again. The lane remained empty.
The man sighed and glanced up at the castle. “Listen lass, your Da is right. You need t’go. Ye’ll not get anything from the boy, but his old man might pay your way if you join the convent. You’re only wee yourself, Elspeth. It’s the only future ye have, now.”
She stared up at him, tears streaming down her face.
“I did nothing wrong,” she whispered. “Nothing.” Her eyes flicked towards the castle. “He told me he loved me. I thought he would take me away.”
“Ye should accept your sin and pray for forgiveness, lass.”
She broke away from the man and began to run again.
“Elspeth!” He watched her head towards the forest but didn’t follow.
Domnall had seen all that he needed to. Micol was already at his side. “She’s a young one,” he told her, his breathing heavy as he led them towards the forest where he’d last seen the girl. “She left the baby behind, it must be in the hut but—”
“But that’s useless,” interrupted Micol. “If the mother has left, then stealing the babe is pointless.” She ran easily, not even struggling for breath.
“Just follow!
I don’t want to lose her.” His calves were knotted and he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He couldn’t talk and keep up with Micol.
“She went this way.” She ran ahead of him, pointing at a patch of broken ferns. “But I don’t understand, you said the babe isn’t with her.”
“That’s why I want to take the mother. . . .”
“Do what?” She was following the human’s trail on her own now and he was falling behind.
He took a deep breath and ran faster. “Take the mother.”
He collided into her back as she skidded to a stop.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
He hissed a warning as he recovered his balance. He heard the crunch of pine needles just ahead. He waved Micol to his side and crept forward as quickly as he dared until he got her in view. The human sobbed and stumbled through the trees. Her face was grimy and streaked. She was heading away from the village, deeper into the forest.
Micol carefully stepped forward and looked back at Domnall for approval. Domnall nodded and remained motionless, not trusting himself to remain as silent as she was. The human probably wasn’t dangerous. She must be exhausted. They just needed to keep sight of her. Micol could handle it.
Once he caught his breath, he crept forward, staying close behind Micol. He was not at all confident that following the mortal made sense, but as they tracked her through the forest, he couldn’t think of a better plan. They trailed her for over an hour as the afternoon sun sank towards the brown hills. The human was no longer sobbing, just walking blindly through the trees.
As the rain started again, Domnall stopped. Micol paused and looked back, waiting for instruction. He was tempted to call it off, but the vision of Nighean, burned and struggling to breathe, filled his head again. How could he return to the Sithein with nothing?
When he failed to speak, Micol darted forward to chase after the human. He sighed and followed. The human was veering towards the hills in an uneven path, almost certainly lost. He could only hope that she would stop before nightfall, give him a chance to sleep and rest and think.
They marched until the last grey light of the evening began to fade. Domnall’s head felt like an egg with a hatchling pecking to get out, and his legs screamed with pain. Finally the young human crumpled in exhaustion at the foot of a large oak tree amongst the pines and cried herself to sleep.
Domnall waited until the sun had fully set to make sure she was asleep and then beckoned Micol to come close.
“You don’t really mean to take her?” she hissed quietly. She unknotted her long hair from its bun and shook it out.
Domnall looked away. “We’ve no time to argue. Scout the area. Make sure there are no humans nearby, she may have been trying to head to another settlement or someone she knows. I’ll keep watch here.” He glanced around. “If she moves, I’ll leave a trail for you to follow. Just look for anything out of place.”
Micol gave Domnall a dark look before creeping away from their camp, exploring the area around them.
He sat on a rotting tree stump and watched the human as she twitched uncomfortably in her sleep. At least it wasn’t raining. He could make out a faint glow where the moon must be rising. With any luck, the clouds would clear before daybreak. He rubbed his calves and watched her sleep.
Her clothes were ripped and ragged at the hems: a long brown cloak cut of rough cloth draped over a simple cotton shift. Her curls were matted and tangled. She was uncommonly skinny—her bones stuck out sharply—especially for a new mother. Very little evidence remained of her pregnancy, but Domnall noted the wet stains on her chest with satisfaction. He stretched out to allow himself a rest, even if he didn’t dare sleep.
A light drizzle of rain began to fall. He rolled over but she didn’t even twitch. Maybe it would be all right if he slept for an hour or two. He was too old to be camping out every night. Micol could keep watch, as full of energy as she was. He sat up, wondering where she’d got to.
A warm breath touched his ear. “Got you.”
He spun around to find himself looking into Micol’s laughing eyes. “Why you . . .”
She cut him off with a low chuckle, pointing at the sleeping human. “Shhhh.”
He couldn’t help but smile back at her. This was Micol’s first adventure, and she was loving it. The further they travelled, the more confident she became. She would make an excellent scout for sure, as long as Nighean’s burns weren’t held against her. “What did you see?”
“Not a lot,” she whispered. “There’s nothing nearby. I don’t think she knows where she’s going.” She paused. “You aren’t really serious about taking her, though?”
“I am deadly serious.”
“Domnall, we can’t steal a full-grown mortal. Even in the stories, not even the sluagh—”
Her protestations were cut off by an ear-piercing howl. Micol spun around, searching through the trees. “Over that way,” she whispered. Her words trailed off at the sound of an answering howl behind them.
“You didn’t see them out there?”
She shook her head, no.
Domnall cursed his luck. “Worst winter we’ve had in years. They’ll be starving.”
Another eerie wail filled the night, closer this time. Micol’s face was creased with fear. She stood poised to run.
Domnall heard a low snarl behind them. He looked at the human, collapsed, face pressed against the rough roots of the tree. Easy prey. He cursed again and ran towards her.
“What are you doing?” hissed Micol.
He kicked the human hard in the thigh. “Wake up, for the love of the Queen, wake up!” His voice was hoarse with panic and that, combined with the kick, had the desired effect. The girl sat up in fright.
Domnall’s voice was more squeal than shout. “Wolves!”
She scrabbled backwards, staring at him.
The words flew out in a panic. He’d never spoken to a human before and found it hard to think straight. “Tree! Climb a tree! Quickly, mortal! Listen to me!”
“They’re coming!” Micol shrieked.
“Wolves,” he cried again. He saw Micol scrambled up a tree. At least she was safe.
The girl stood up, hands held in front of her as if to protect her stomach. A shaggy grey wolf slunk into the clearing, fangs bared. She screamed, seemingly frozen to the spot. Domnall grabbed a rotting tree limb from the ground and turned to hit the wolf as it rushed past.
The stick broke. The wolf didn’t pause, but neither did it pounce. Instead, it whirled with a growl. Domnall found himself staring into yellow eyes.
“Climb a tree,” gasped Domnall. He threw the half-stick at the wolf and scrambled up to follow Micol, fingers burrowing into gaps in the bark. He was too small and scrawny to be worth fighting for, at least he hoped so.
The girl finally reacted, grabbing at a branch of the old oak tree to pull herself up. The branch snapped and dropped her to the ground. The wolf turned back towards his original victim, ready to lunge. As the rest of the pack moved into the circle, the girl finally managed to pull herself into the tree. The wolf bayed at its base.
Domnall took a deep breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. The branch he clung to shivered and shook; he felt Micol’s hand on his shoulder.
“Now what?” Micol whispered, her eyes focused on the human.
She had her arms wrapped around the tree trunk, staring down at the wolves in fright. She appeared to have forgotten about Domnall.
“They’ll move on soon. They wanted an easy hunt.”
“When they do, she’ll look for you. Let’s just slip away quietly, now, before she gets down.”
“And lose her? After all this?”
Micol bit her lip but said nothing. The moon broke through the clouds, lighting the pack of wolves in a silvery glow. As if it were a signal, the wolves paced off in a pack. The girl kept her arms around the knotty tree, still shivering with fear.
Domnall turned towards Micol. “Nighean is dying. I have to try.�
� He jumped down from the branch, landing with a thud on the soft ground beneath it.
* * *
“ . . . so you see, we need your help.” His voice trailed off. The sun was just peeking over the eastern mountains through the last of the storm clouds. Elspeth sat cross-legged in front of him with her eyes wide in astonishment. Micol sat on a branch above, glowering at Domnall.
He smiled hopefully at the human. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes. I think so.” Elspeth continued to stare down at him as if she couldn’t quite believe that he was really there. “You need my breast milk, to save one of the . . .” She paused instinctively. “One of the Good Folk.”
He nodded and hoped that he looked encouraging.
“Which means I would go to your home and . . . and live with you.”
He kept nodding.
“For how long?”
“A hundred mortal years, more or less. You won’t remember anything about it afterwards, by all accounts. When the entrancement fades, you just feel like you’ve taken a nap, had some odd dreams.”
“She’s not entranced yet, though,” muttered Micol. “She’ll remember this.”
“I’m not sure about that,” he admitted. He caught Micol’s glare and scowled. “Yes, I guess you’ll remember this.”
Elspeth looked towards the mountains as the sun lit their snow-covered peaks. Then she turned and addressed Micol directly. “You’ll take me anyway, won’t you? No matter what I say? I cannae stop you.”
Micol glared at Domnall with fresh frustration before responding. “The sluagh do that, not us. They capture mortals and drag them along their journeys across the sky, dance them to their deaths.” She shook her head. “We are not sluagh. We aren’t like that. Any humans in our Sithein are there by choice, because they’ve walked into our ring. They may not know they’re making that choice when they come into our revel, but we don’t abduct them.”
“But you meant to capture me.”
Domnall and the Borrowed Child Page 5