Fate of a Highlander

by Baker, Katy

  She couldn’t save him. Oh god. It was happening all over again.

  And suddenly she was standing in that shopping mall again. She watched as her mother staggered, her face going bone white. She watched as her mom collapsed to the floor, her eyes rolling back in her head. She watched as others ran to her aid, store keepers, shoppers, a security guard. She watched as one of them called 911 and the security guard began CPR. All of this she watched in horror, frozen, unable to move, paralyzed by fear. She was a medical student, the one person who might have been able to save her mom. And yet she did nothing.

  No! No! No! she cried inside. Mom! I’m sorry! I panicked. I froze. Please forgive me!

  The terrible guilt she’d carried around ever since suddenly rose up like a dark wave, threatening to sweep her away. It didn’t matter that it was later revealed her mom had ventricular fibrillation and there was nothing anybody could have done. She, Eleanor, should have tried. She should have found a way, instead of freezing like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck. What kind of doctor did that make her? Hell, what kind of person did it make her? Weak. Useless.

  And now she was going to lose Finn because of that same weakness.

  A hand settled on her shoulder and she looked up to find Logan watching her. His eyes, as dark as Finn’s own, were haunted.

  “Dinna give up, lass,” he breathed, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Finn had faith in ye. Dinna give up on him.”

  You don’t understand! she wanted to shout. I can’t do this! I’m not strong enough! I’ve never been strong enough!

  But she had to be. The only other choice was to lose him and that was no choice at all.

  I. Will. Not. Let. This. Happen!

  Anger surged through her. Never again. Never again would she allow someone she loved to be taken from her. Never, ever again.

  The CPR wasn’t working. What she needed was a defibrillator but the nearest one lay hundreds of years into the future. Gritting her teeth, she curled her hands together into a double fist, raised it high over her head and then brought it cannoning down onto Finn’s chest with all her strength. His body flopped like a landed fish.

  “No!” she growled. “You aren’t going anywhere! You will come back to me! You will!”

  She thumped him again. And then a third time.

  His body twitched. Then his mouth opened and he drew a great, heaving breath. Eleanor pressed her ear against his chest and almost fainted with relief when she heard a heartbeat. Pressing her fingers against his neck, she timed his pulse and let out a long, slow breath when she realized it had steadied. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. She turned her attention to the stab wound in his stomach.

  Logan’s sword had pierced him just below the rib cage. A neat slice oozing blood marked the entry point but Eleanor had no way of knowing how deep the blade had gone or if it had pierced any internal organs. She needed an MRI scanner and a team of surgeons for that. All she had were Logan and Camdan and the basic supplies she had in her medical bag.

  She bit her lip, despair welling up inside her again. Only twenty-first century medicine could save Finn’s life.

  Or Fae magic, a voice whispered in her head.

  Only death can end my curse.

  Finn had once told her he was protected by Fae magic and that’s why he’d healed so quickly after his beating by Balloch. The iron of Logan’s blade had severed the Fae magic, as Finn had known it would when he’d allowed Logan to stab him.

  But the iron was no longer in his body. Logan’s bloodied blade lay in the grass several feet away where he’d dropped it. If Eleanor could somehow revive the Fae magic in Finn’s blood...

  Her eyes fell on the branding iron. It lay next to Balloch’s body, his fingers reaching out as if he tried to grab it in his last moments.

  “Quickly!” she cried. “Pass me the brand!”

  Camdan grabbed it and quickly handed it to Eleanor. "What are ye going to do?"

  "I don't have the equipment or the drugs I need to save him," she replied. "I think he's bleeding internally. The only thing that can save him is the Fae magic that cursed you all."

  Camdan and Logan paled. Then Logan's expression hardened. "Do it."

  Eleanor grabbed the handle of the brand, rolled him onto his side, and pressed the end against Finn's tattoo, resting it lightly against his skin. She had no idea if this would work but she was out of options. At first nothing happened. Then there was a flare of light so bright that Eleanor had to shade her eyes. When it faded she saw that Finn's tattoo was glowing again but only faintly.

  She dropped the brand into the dirt and leaned over him. "Finn? Finn can ye hear me?"

  Nothing. Finn lay lifeless and unresponsive. His skin was waxy, pale, already taking on the pallor of death.

  Despair engulfed Eleanor. She dropped her head into her hands, pressing her forehead against the heels of her hands as she felt herself falling, falling...

  “Eleanor?” a voice rasped.

  With a cry, her eyes flew open. Finn was watching her, a slightly glazed expression on his face.

  “Finn?” she gasped. “Oh my god, Finn? You came back to me!”

  He raised his hand and ran his thumb across her cheek. "Aye, lass. Didnae I give ye my word? I'll never leave ye."

  She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. Tears ran down her face. Finn was alive. After that, nothing else mattered.

  "I was so scared,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “Don't you ever do anything like that to me again, you hear?"

  A wry smile twisted his lips. "I'll try."

  He pushed himself into a sitting position, his hand going to the wound in his abdomen. It had stopped bleeding and Eleanor could see there was already a scab forming where the flesh was beginning to knit together.

  Finn glanced at the brand lying in the dirt and then Balloch's body sprawled on its back. A spasm of grief crossed his face and he wiped the back of his hand across his brow.

  "It’s really over then.” He looked at Logan. “Forgive me."

  “There is naught to forgive," Logan replied. "It’s the Fae who are to blame for this, all of it."

  Finn held his brother's gaze for a moment and then nodded.

  Finn allowed Logan to pull him to his feet then reached for Eleanor. She went to him, pressing herself against his side. He leaned on her slightly, still weak despite the Fae magic.

  “We must return to the army,” Logan said. “Ye are sure ye willnae return with us?”

  Finn shook his head. “I must get Eleanor home.”

  Logan looked long and hard at Finn and then clapped him on the shoulder. "God speed to ye then, little brother. I’ll pray that we meet on the other side."

  Camdan folded Finn into a tight embrace. "Stay alive," he said gruffly. “Just stay alive.”

  As Finn gathered the horse and they mounted up, Eleanor watched him closely for any sign of pain but the Fae magic appeared to be doing its job. He barely even winced as he climbed into the saddle behind her.

  With a last wave to Logan and Camdan, Finlay set his heels to the flanks of the horse and sent him cantering into the woods, towards Brigid's Hollow and her way home.

  THEY RODE AS SWIFTLY as Finn dared, keeping to the thickest part of the scrubby woodland that bordered the marshes until the trees finally peeled back and they started climbing towards the uplands.

  He held tight to Eleanor, trying not to think of what lay ahead. His mind swirled with everything that had happened today. Meeting his brothers again after all this time. The confrontation with Balloch. The fight with Logan...

  He could barely make sense of any of it. Inside he felt empty. Hollow and brittle, like a dry reed that might snap any minute. But he still had a job to do, a promise to keep.

  Their flight to find his brothers had brought them closer to Brigid's Hollow than he’d realized. It lay only one valley away from the place where the battle between MacAuley and Stewart forces would be joined. Was it
coincidence that had brought him and his brothers so close to a place of the Fae? Of course not. There were no coincidences where the Fae were concerned.

  Eleanor said nothing but she clung tight to his arm and he could feel her tension. Was she eager to go home? Or was she dreading it as much as he was?

  Ask her, that voice whispered in his head. Ask her to stay.

  I canna, he answered himself. I willnae condemn her to my life.

  They climbed steadily, the wind increasing until it tugged at Finn’s hair and sent it swirling out behind him, icy fingers caressing the back of his neck. Then, on the brow of the hill something came into view: a grove of oak trees silhouetted against the sky. Finn balked at the sight and the horse shied, picking up on his master’s unease. Eleanor stiffened, her lips parting in a hiss.

  “There it is,” she whispered. “Brigid’s Hollow.”

  Finn licked his lips. “Aye. There it is.”

  He brought the horse under control and they climbed up towards the copse. The oaks were huge things with tangled limbs that seemed to grasp at the sky like greedy fingers. As they drew closer Finn saw that the trunk of the largest had split down the middle and now formed a kind of living archway through which he could see the sky.

  The hairs prickled on the back of his neck. We are the Fae, the place seemed to whisper. This place is ours. Ye are not welcome here.

  He pulled the horse to a halt and sat motionless, listening and watching. All was still. Even the wind had fallen silent.

  Finn dismounted then helped Eleanor down. When they were both on the ground he held out his hand and she curled her fingers through his. She glanced at him, her eyes round and huge and he forced himself to smile, even though he felt sick to his stomach. Together they approached the archway.

  Suddenly, from the corner of his eye he saw movement and he whirled as a group of armed men rose from their hiding places in the long grass. They wore Stewart colors and carried swords.

  With a snarled curse Finn drew his dagger.

  “Put away yer letter opener,” said a sardonic voice. “It willnae do ye any good here.”

  Alasdair Stewart stepped out from behind the split trunk, his hands tucked demurely behind his back as though he was out for an evening stroll.

  Finn’s hackles rose at the sight of him. He stepped closer to Eleanor, ready to defend her with his life.

  “What are ye doing here?” he growled at Stewart. “Yer army is about to engage in battle. Should ye not be leading them?”

  Stewart cocked his head, regarding Finn. “Ye know, I really am disappointed. Even the most stubborn, stupid of beasts learns its place with enough training. Except ye. Some might say that my bargain with the Fae turned out to be more trouble than it was worth. I would disagree. True, ye have become a right royal pain in my arse, but ye have brought me something much more valuable—the victory I’ve been seeking all these years.”

  “Victory?” Finn snarled, his hands curling into fists and aching for violence. “I dinna think so Lord Stewart. Balloch is dead. Yer plan with the cannon is revealed to the MacAuleys. Ye will have no victory this day.”

  A flicker of emotion passed across Stewart’s face at mention of Balloch’s demise but it was gone in an instant. He waved a dismissive hand. “I always said that boy’s lack of brains would get him killed. He should have listened to me. As ye should have listened. Do ye not know by now that ye canna best me? Do ye not realize that ye have already brought me victory?” A cruel smile twisted his lips. “I can see that ye dinna. Ye think that battle with the MacAuleys is the victory I speak of? Oh, small-minded, foolish Hound! Nay, my victory is something much, much bigger than that.”

  He took his hands from behind his back and Finn saw an odd-looking device like a small flat box on a strap dangling from his hand. A look of triumph flashed across Stewart’s face.

  By Finn’s side, Eleanor gasped.

  ELEANOR STARED AT THE thing hanging from Alasdair Stewart's hand. It was her digital watch which she’d lost when she first came through the arch. It looked so out of place, so alien, that she could hardly take her eyes off it. The display glowed in the gloom beneath the trees, seeming to announce for all to see that it was not of this time.

  She ripped her eyes from it, forced herself to look at Stewart. "Where did you get that?"

  He raised an eyebrow, gave her a sardonic smile. "From this very spot. My men brought it to me after following yer trail all the way back here to Brigid’s Hollow." His gaze sharpened. "To the portal where ye came through time."

  Eleanor’s mouth dropped open, a soft hiss escaping her.

  Stewart barked a laugh. "Did ye really think I didnae suspect? Do ye really think me such a fool? My faithful Hound brings me an outland woman, one who behaves and dresses like no decent woman should, a woman with healing skills far beyond what even the great Italian universities can teach. A woman with more holes in her story than a weevil-ridden biscuit. Did ye really think I didnae know of time-travel? My bargain with the Fae has taught me many things. Oh, aye, I recognized straight away that no device like this exists in this time. What other conclusion could there be other than ye are a time-traveler, Lady Eleanor Stevenson?”

  Suddenly, from far away, came a noise. It took Eleanor a moment to realise it was the call of horns braying in the distance. And then the unmistakable cough and roar of cannon fire.

  "Ah!" Stewart said. "Do ye hear that? The sweet sound of my army’s victory. Even now my troops are cutting down the MacAuley and MacConnell forces, mopping up those that my cannons didnae get first. By tonight there will be naught left of those once-mighty clans."

  He looked at Finn, his hawk-like face alight with glee. "And I will have achieved everything I set out to do: fulfil my bargain with the Fae by bringing war to the Highlands, take revenge on yer family, and gain a power greater than any in this rotten little world.” His eyes glittered. “The power of time."

  "You’re one crazy asshole,” Eleanor growled. "You really think this tree is a portal through time? Then you're more stupid than I thought!"

  Stewart gave a soft, low laugh. "Good try."

  The wind suddenly picked up, howling around the hill with enough force to make Eleanor stagger. She threw her arm in front of her face to protect her eyes from the dust that swirled into her face. A strange sound carried on the wind. It sounded like...like... laughter. Stewart’s men shifted uneasily, glancing around with wide eyes.

  Then the wind died as suddenly as it came.

  “Ye mortals are such fools,” said a voice that sounded like the cracking of stones. “Ye think ye can cheat the Fae? Not so. We play the long game and we always win in the end.”

  Eleanor’s gaze flew to Stewart. The voice came from his mouth but it wasn’t Stewart’s voice. It sounded ancient, as if dredged from the very bowels of the earth. Stewart was sweating and his eyes were so round that she could see the whites all around them.

  Eleanor’s neck prickled. Slowly, she began to back away.

  “Where are ye going?” Stewart said with a cruel laugh. “I thought ye wished to pass through the arch?”

  “Who are ye?” Finn demanded.

  “Dinna ye recognize me?” Stewart replied, turning his gaze on Finn. “Look closer!”

  For a moment Stewart’s form seemed to waver and Eleanor saw another image superimposed over his. She saw a wizened old man with leathery skin and a bald head. Black eyes like chunks of flint stared out at them, filled with malevolence.

  “It’s him!” Finn breathed. “I dinna believe it!”

  “I see ye recognize me after all, Finlay MacAuley. How long has it been? How many years since we stood together at the Stones of Druach and ye sold yer soul to me?”

  Finn swallowed then lifted his chin. “Let Eleanor go. I’m the one ye want.”

  Stewart raised an eyebrow. “Such an overblown opinion of yerself. Aye, ye were useful to me for a time. A play-thing for my amusement. But I no longer want ye at all. I want something far
more important. And Lady Eleanor Stevenson can give it me.” Stewart’s gaze flicked to her and the malice in those eyes hit her almost like a physical blow. “Ye will take me to yer time. Now.”

  “Never!” she snapped. “I’ll never go anywhere with you!”

  An amused smile crossed Stewart’s face. “Oh come now. What use is this pretense? We both know ye will. It is yer only way to get home. And I will go with ye.”

  “Like hell you will!”

  Irritation flashed across Stewart’s face. “I begin to lose my patience, woman. Come over here, right now. Take this chance to go home. It is the only one ye will get.”

  “I don’t care,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “I don’t care if I never walk through that arch. You know why? Because I’m already home, you asshole!”

  From the corner of her eye she saw Finn look at her in surprise but all her attention was fixed on Stewart. His face contorted into a snarl.

  “Ye will do as I say! Ye will take me through the arch!”

  Sudden understanding dawned on Eleanor. Irene had told her that everything was a choice and she’d learned from Finn that the Fae were governed by rules and bargains. It suddenly made sense.

  “You can’t go through on your own, can you?” she asked. “You need a time-traveler to take you. And that time-traveler has to do so willingly. It’s all about choice. Right from the moment Finn made his choice to make a bargain with you, to right now when I have to choose between going home or staying here. Well, I’ve made it! I’m staying right here! I’ll never take you through that arch!”

  Stewart howled, a horrible sound full of fury and frustration. “Ye will or ye will watch yer precious Finlay die!”

  "He speaks empty threats,” Finn said. His eyes blazed as he stared at Stewart. “Dinna listen to him, love. He willnae hurt anyone. This ends here. One way or another."

  FINLAY LAID A HAND on Eleanor's arm. She looked up at him and he held her gaze for a second before gently pushing her behind him. He'd meant what he said. He would stop Alasdair Stewart and the Fae who possessed him. He would end this. One way or another.