Soul of a Highlander

by Melissa Mayhue

  “Something else has come up, Ramos. Something with more urgency.” Dallyn tapped his finger against the large brown envelope he held in his lap. “Something requiring the utmost discretion. Only one of my Elite Guard can be trusted with this particular assignment.”

  “You have others. Better trained and more experienced than I.” Ramos had been grateful when Dallyn offered him the opportunity to train as a Guardian. When, after his second week of training, Dallyn had proposed his transfer to the highly skilled Elite Guard, he’d been honored.

  “True. But none quite so well suited for this particular situation as yourself.” Dallyn’s smile sent a jolt of foreboding through Ramos. “Besides, you were specifically requested.”

  Now that was truly unexpected.

  “Who would request me?” Who would even know of him? “And why?”

  “Have a seat.” Dallyn motioned to a chair across from him as he slapped the thick envelope onto the table. “How good are you at history?” That smile again. The one that hinted of things to come.

  “I had some classes at university.” Ramos’s mind raced, trying to figure out where Dallyn was going with this line of questioning. “Why?”

  “Do you remember Sarah’s friends, the MacKiernans? You met them once, I believe?”

  “Yes.” It seemed so long ago when he’d met them, almost a different lifetime. Almost a different him. Before Sarah’s marriage to Ian, before his life had changed, before he had learned what his father really was. What he really was. All they’d been responsible for causing. “I remember them.”

  “You know they’re descended from the Fae, yes?”

  “Yes. There was some discussion of it just before I left to come here.”

  “Connor has a sister. Did you know?” Dallyn waited until Ramos shook his head. “A rather headstrong young woman, who has gotten herself into a bit of a bind. Sarah and Ian have requested that you be the one sent to get her out of it.”

  That answered the question of who. Now he just needed to know why. Needed to know how this could be worth pulling him away from what he had been training to do.

  “What’s so important about this particular woman?”

  Dallyn’s eyebrow rose and smoothed so quickly Ramos might have missed it had he not been watching closely. Again the man’s finger tapped the envelope lying between them. Nervously tapped it, Ramos realized with a start.

  “These people are descendants of Pol.”

  “Prince Pol? Pol of the High Council?” He should have guessed. Politics. Some things were the same no matter which world you were in.

  “The very one. Of course, you know of my…arrangement with the Prince.”

  Ramos nodded. The Elite Guard had been formed specifically because of that arrangement. An arrangement designed to benefit both the Realm of Faerie and the World of Mortals. A secret arrangement, neither condoned nor known about by the ruling council of the Realm of Faerie. “I thought Pol had taken steps to insure the safety of his descendants.”

  This time when Dallyn’s eyebrow arched, it remained in that position. “Yes, well, Prince Pol thought so as well. As it turns out, he was mistaken.”

  “Then I’m to be assigned as a Guardian to this woman?”

  “In a manner of speaking. After you locate her.”

  “Locate her? Has she gone missing? Kidnapped?” The vague apprehension he’d felt earlier returned. The General was leading him somewhere unpleasant. He could sense it.

  “No, not kidnapped. At least I don’t believe so. Not when you’re going.”

  “When I’m going?” That caught his attention. Though Dallyn was known to slaughter modern sayings on a regular basis, it was unlike him to misspeak in a situation such as this. “Don’t you mean where I’m going?”

  “No. I meant when. You see, there are a few minor details I hadn’t yet felt it necessary to disclose to all the Elite Guard. One of those details is that some of Pol’s descendants have regained the ability to travel through time.”

  Time travel. An ability lost to the Fae after the Earth Mother had removed their powers on the Mortal Plain in an attempt to end the fighting between the Fae and the Nuadians. Hardly Ramos’s idea of a minor detail.

  A myriad of contradictory thoughts fought to be voiced, but only one made it.

  “Time travel is forbidden.”

  Dallyn merely nodded. “Yes, forbidden and thought to be impossible. But”—he lifted his hands in a helpless gesture—“obviously not impossible any longer. And as to the forbidden part, well, that’s why I need someone I can trust to send after young Mairi MacKiernan. Someone who doesn’t mind breaking the council’s law, but who would never break the binding Fae commandment.”

  “What commandment?”

  “In the farthest reaches of our people’s history, when all Fae had the power to move through time, one rule existed to prevent utter chaos in both the Realm of Faerie and the Mortal Plain. You cannot change the outcome of history. You can only alter the circumstances.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing? Aren’t you merely dancing the edge of a blade with your wordplay?” Wasn’t that always what the Fae did?

  Dallyn shrugged. “View it as you like, but it is the ultimate mandate that must never be broken.”

  “Where?” Ramos stopped and shook his head. No, not where. “When has this woman gone to?” He would concentrate on the task at hand, what he needed to do, where he needed to go, not the unthinkable process or the possible consequences.

  “Any of those university classes cover details of the late thirteenth century?”

  “Christ. Enough for me to know that’s not a place I’d be particularly fond of spending a great deal of time. What was she thinking?”

  A smile of amusement lit the Faerie General’s eyes. “The young lady in question knows a considerable bit about the time. She’s learned through her studies—and quite diligent personal research, I might add—of a cousin who died at the hands of some rather unpleasant people. It would seem she’s taken it upon herself to go save her cousin from the villains.”

  “And the rescuer now needs rescuing,” Ramos summed up. “So I’m somehow to travel back in time to the thirteenth century to save this woman from her own self-appointed task. But how do we even know she needs our help? If she’s gone to the past, shouldn’t we just wait for her return?” There was more. He could feel it, a tension hanging in the air between them, growing.

  Dallyn looked down, tapped the paper once more before he straightened, pursing his lips as if preparing to share some more bad news. He shoved the envelope toward Ramos.

  “We know she needs help because we have this. She left it to be opened if she hadn’t contacted Sarah by last night. As I understand the process, Mairi should have gone, done what she planned, and returned to our time in the space of mere minutes, regardless of how long she actually spent in the past. Since she’s been gone for more than twenty-four hours, we can only assume something has happened to prevent her return. You’ll want to read through this carefully. It will give you all the basic details of what Miss MacKiernan discovered, what she theorized, and what she planned to do. We’ll meet with Ian tomorrow to get you started on preparations.”

  Ramos stared at the bulging envelope, the feeling strong that there was something inside the packet he wouldn’t like. He would prefer to know what it was now. He still didn’t understand why he was more suited to this task than any of the other Elite Guard. Dallyn hadn’t hesitated to tell him anything except…

  “What do we know about the cousin this girl’s gone to rescue? What exactly is this cousin being rescued from?”

  Dallyn stood and walked to the large window at the end of the room, staring out into the daybreak before finally turning.

  “In the year 1295, a small footnote to human history tells of a minor Swiss noble having participated in rabble rousing and general havoc creation in a small portion of the Scottish Highlands. It’s this particularly brutal man who’s thought responsible
for the death of Mairi’s cousin.”

  A feeling of dread clawed at Ramos’s throat. “Who was this villain?”

  Dallyn paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes before continuing. “It appears he may have been one of your people, Ramos. A Nuadian. We know only that his name was recorded as Servans.”

  Six

  SITHEAN FARDACH

  SCOTLAND

  1295

  It was cold, dark and—Mairi lifted her hand to her face—wet? She pushed herself up to a sitting position, every muscle in her body protesting. How did her hair get wet? She was sure she had dried it completely before…

  Her eyes flew wide open, straining to see through the gloom that surrounded her.

  The room was empty, a misty rain whipping through the open hole in the wall where glass should be. Or shutters. If she’d gone back, there should be wooden shutters.

  Her mind scrambled to understand what had happened. No fire in the fireplace, not even wood stacked for one. In fact, it looked as though none had been there for years. She stood and backed to the wall, stepping on something sharp in her path. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  Things were not as they should be.

  No herbs, no salves, no books in the room. Not even the smell of her aunt’s things lingered. Only a pile of busted wood that might have been a piece of furniture at one time remained in the middle of the floor.

  The smell of mold and dirt permeated her senses. And the sound of metal on metal. She hadn’t heard that for a while, but one didn’t forget the sound of swordplay ringing within stone walls.

  She took a step toward the window and was brought up short by the pain in her foot. Whatever sharp thing she’d stepped on had imbedded itself in her heel.

  Keeping her weight balanced on her toes, she slid to the window, stretching up to look out. In the moonlight she could see the corral Connor had built was gone, leaving a wide, open space. The wooden outbuildings he and Duncan had taken such care in erecting now leaned precariously.

  Again she heard the clash of swords, followed by distinctly male laughter.

  If this room was any indication, it was apparent the castle had been abandoned for some time. Obviously her aunt was no longer in residence. More important, she had the sneaking suspicion that she didn’t want to meet whoever was living here.

  She limped to the door of the room and quietly closed it. Leaning her body against it, she listened for any sounds from inside the castle. More laughter, singing—drinking songs—from the Great Hall below. Not many voices, she thought with relief, four, maybe five.

  The relief changed to horror as she realized one of the voices was headed this direction.

  “I’m no afeard of the Witches’ Tower. I’ll show ye all. Hear that, banshees? Ranald MacPherson is afeard of no ghosties. Make way.” This was followed by the clank of metal on stone as someone, loudly, made their way up the winding stairs from below.

  “Damnation,” she breathed.

  A MacPherson. Hadn’t she just barely escaped being murdered by one of them the last time she’d been here?

  Her muscles tensed as the door pushed against her, someone on the other side, obviously wanting in.

  Now what?

  It seemed so wrong to have avoided death at the hands of a MacPherson nine years ago, only to be captured by one as soon as she set foot back in this time.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t wrong. Perhaps it was her fate.

  SITHEAN FARDACH

  SCOTLAND

  PRESENT DAY

  Ramos drummed his fingers against the table in irritation. These people, both the ones on the telephone and the ones in the room with him, droned on and on, covering and re-covering the same ground. Their endless speculation was a waste of his time. He already knew what he needed to know.

  There was a Nuadian Fae loose in the Highlands of Scotland in 1295, searching for a female descendant of the Fae. Searching for a woman who would have the ability to show them the way back into the Realm of Faerie, the home from which they’d been exiled. A Nuadian Fae who would stop at nothing in his pursuit of that goal. Nothing. His people would kidnap, torture, murder without remorse if they thought it would gain them entrance to the Realm of Faerie and access to the Fountain of Souls.

  He had to prevent that from happening and rescue the woman he’d been assigned as Guardian to protect. And he could only do those things once he reached his destination.

  He had no time, no patience for any more of this theoretical bickering.

  “Enough.”

  He rose from his chair to pace the room.

  Sarah and Ian looked at him in surprise. The voices on the telephone, Cate and Connor MacKiernan, ceased as abruptly. Dallyn merely turned a knowing smile his direction.

  “It doesn’t matter what any of us think. We’ve determined what to do. Let’s get on with it.”

  “But we’ve no idea whether or not it will work at all.” Cate’s concern radiated through the speaker on the desk. “I’ve never tried to do anything from this far away. Never over the phone. I don’t even know if I can.”

  “And we never will know if we continue to do nothing but talk. Everything is ready. I’m going upstairs to wait for the lot of you to finish your back-and-forth on the subject. Send me when you will.” Ramos felt his patience at its end.

  “Keep one thing in mind, Servans,” a deep voice growled from the speaker.

  “My name is not Servans,” Ramos interrupted, the sharp pain of betrayal lancing through him like a flash fire. “It’s Navarro. My mother’s name.” He would never claim the other name again. And, as his father had never seen fit to marry his mother anyway, Navarro was his true name.

  Only a small pause preceded the continued warning. “Verra well, then. Just you remember, Navarro, there’s no room for mistakes on this. It’s the life of my baby sister we’re discussing here.”

  “Have no fear, MacKiernan. I’ll see to it that your sister gets back safely. I swear it.”

  Ramos leaned down to grab the misshapen cloth bag containing his provisions. After hoisting it to his shoulder, he bounded up the stairs. If the magic worked properly, he should arrive in the past within minutes of Mairi’s arrival. Timing was important since they had no idea what might have happened to prevent her return—or when it might have happened.

  He reached the top landing and paused, his hand on the doorknob of the room from which he would depart. The room where he should find the woman he had come to think of in the last week of preparation as his own personal enigma, Mairi MacKiernan.

  He had learned all he could about her, about her family and their history. Still, as well as he felt he knew her now, the thing that motivated her, that drove her to this action eluded him. Why would she send herself hurtling all those centuries into the past to save her cousin? Why save that particular girl?

  He thought of all he’d read and been told about Mairi, but at this moment, paused outside the room from which he would travel to find her, what came back to him were the words in the letter she’d left behind. He closed his eyes and the flowery handwriting appeared, burned into his memory as if she’d written the words directly to him.

  If you’re reading this, I’m in trouble and I need help. But know this before you come charging in to my rescue: I’ll not come back until I’ve accomplished my task. I stay until I do what needs to be done. I stay until I’ve fulfilled my destiny.

  His sentiments exactly.

  While he’d make sure she got home—regardless of what she wanted—he intended to stay to do what needed to be done. Though his way back was through Mairi’s power, he had other intentions. He planned to find whichever of his people was responsible for the horrors taking place and deal with them.

  And if in the process he found clues leading to the location of his father? So much the better. He would embrace the opportunity to deal with Reynard Servans as well. He would do anything to prevent the centuries of Mortal suffering at his father’s hand, prevent the deaths hi
s father had caused in his all-consuming quest to retake the Realm of Faerie. He would prevent the damage he himself had unwittingly helped inflict as he’d blindly sought his father’s approval.

  A slight tingle along his skin warned him of the presence of magic. He’d delayed too long on the landing. Cate had started the spell. He straightened, laid his hand on the sword he wore strapped to his body and readied himself for whatever he might encounter.

  Knowing the beginning of a spell was the most powerful moment, he spoke into the void as a faint green sphere began to take shape around him. Mairi’s words suited his purpose as well as her own.

  “Grant me only that I might stay until I fulfill my destiny.”

  Outside the sphere, the walls, the floor, everything shimmered with a green hue. For a moment, Ramos could swear he heard laughter, a floating, musical sound, followed by a man’s voice.

  “Bargain struck.”

  Ramos had only an instant to consider whether what he heard was real or imagined before the gently pulsing green light burst into a million fractured colors all around him, rushing at him and away from him at the same time, disorienting him with the feeling of rapid forward momentum and the accompanying sensation of falling a great distance.

  He tried to concentrate on what was happening, but the colors and the lights swirling around him, through him, blanketed his thoughts, making his mind fuzzy as he fought the desire to succumb to the siren call of sleep.

  As suddenly as it began, it stopped, leaving him dizzy, disoriented and completely in the dark.

  Seven

  SITHEAN FARDACH

  SCOTLAND

  1295

  Mairi braced her back against the heavy wooden door.