Highlander’s Bewitched Soul

by Olivia Kerr

  8

  Whenever a battle was won, no matter how big or how small, the men were always in a good mood for days after. Cameron slept better than he had in days, and they did not drill the troops for two days because they did not want to tire them. They were awaiting orders from Cameron’s father, in any case, about what to do and when to advance again. The British battalion that they had fought had completely retreated, and the land was theirs. Cameron knew they were a step closer to winning the war and he knew that he should be grateful.

  And while he thanked God in his prayers at night, there was an issue that weighed heavily on his chest.

  Isla had increased morale, and she had looked stunning on horseback. The Britons were afraid of her, and her bold mood had shattered their confidence before the battle even started. However, Cameron also knew that there was no magic on the battlefield. She had not separated the skies or opened up a pit. Lightning had not stuck, and arrows had not magically appeared out of nowhere.

  The men seemed to think all of those things had happened, though, the more they had talked about it, which he found very interesting. Why did they think those things happened, when he saw with his own eyes that they had not?

  He needed to talk to Isla, and he needed to talk to her alone. The problem was, getting her alone was incredibly difficult. She often was surrounded by those who had begun to worship her, or by David, who did not want anyone near her.

  Cameron was worried. Now that this battle was over, they would leave. The more he feared it, the more he realized that he did not want her to leave at all. He wanted her to stay because he feared for her in the outside world. He wanted her to stay because he realized that his life would be darker without her.

  He had never felt that about anyone else before. He had always found his light in God and in God’s creation, such as beautiful flowers for a peaceful river. Now, he saw that same light in Isla’s smile, and in her laughter. She did not laugh very often, but when she did, it was as if the very sky lit up.

  “You seem happy these days,” Lewis said to him, over lunch. The two commanders had taken a moment to discuss their plans, and while nothing was decided, Cameron realized that he had smiled throughout the whole thing.

  “We just won a battle,” Cameron pointed out and Lewis shrugged.

  “We did,” he replied. “But we have won battles before and they have never put such a smile on your face.”

  “Perhaps I am confident that we are one step closer to winning the war,” Cameron answered. “And confident that we are doing God’s word.”

  “Perhaps,” Lewis said. “Perhaps I would believe you a bit more if you did not smile every time Isla was around.”

  “I do not,” Cameron said. “In fact, I have been considering speaking to her on a rather delicate matter.”

  “Oh?” Lewis asked. “Will you confess how she makes you feel?”

  Cameron elbowed him in the ribs. “I will not,” he replied, “because I do not feel anything.”

  He was aware that Lewis knew he was lying, but he did not feel up to discussing such a matter now.

  “Then what do you wish to discuss with her?” Lewis asked.

  “The matter of her magic,” Cameron replied. “And the fact that none of it was used on the battlefield.”

  “Even though her magic boosted morale?”

  “Lewis, you do not actually believe her, do you?” Cameron asked. “You grew up with her. Did she have magic then?”

  “Cameron, it is not about what you believe,” Lewis said, with a soft smile. “It is about the events that took place, and the outcome. We won, and that is all that matters.”

  "I’m sorry,” Cameron replied. “I cannot accept such a simple answer.”

  He knew Lewis understood and that Lewis would forgive him, as he stalked off to find Isla. He assumed she would be surrounded by troops, or with David, and he was prepared to interrupt whatever discussion was taking place.

  Instead, he was surprised to find her alone by her tent. She was crouching by the fire pit, although nothing was lit.

  When she looked up and saw him, she smiled, and he slowed his pace. Even if he was confused and angry at her claims, he could not resist her smile. He felt as if his heart melted every time he saw her.

  “Hello,” she said to him. “We haven’t spoken all day.”

  “I know,” he replied. “I was hoping for a quiet moment to resume the conversation we had on the battlefield.”

  “Oh?” she asked. “What conversation was that?”

  “The fact that you did not use any magic to help us win the battle,” he said. She sat back and searched his face.

  “I did not?” she asked him, innocently.

  “Isla, there is no one else around,” he said. “No one can hear your claims and you know that you do not have a belief in me.”

  “I…” She looked down at the fire pit. “What if I started a fire without sticks?”

  “No one can do that,” he replied. “Not even Jesus himself.”

  “Perhaps I have different powers than your Lord God,” she replied. Cameron fixed her with a stare.

  “You think the powers you were granted are greater than the son of Christ?”

  “I did not say that,” she assured him. “All I said was that they were different, not greater.”

  “Well, if you have powers such as that, I am confused about why you have not sold them.”

  Her face fell at that, and he regretted his choice of words.

  “If only because that would be very valuable to many soldiers, marching through the rain,” he said. “You have a good heart, Isla, and I know you want to help people, so I cannot see why you wouldn’t have done such a thing.”

  “I cannot sell my powers,” she said. “They were gifted to me and me alone.”

  “Alright, well if that is the case,” he replied, “please, show me.”

  “I need you to step back,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. She was still adorned with some of the jewelry from the battle, and he noticed that the ground was incredibly dry. No one had trouble starting a fire these days—not even the world’s most inexperienced soldier.

  Cameron watched as Isla gathered up a few particularly dry sticks and brought them together.

  “I thought you were going to start a fire without rubbing sticks together?” he asked her.

  “I am,” she said, and laid them on the ground. She placed her hands over them and closed her eyes.

  A long moment of silence passed between them and Cameron wondered if she was praying, or only waiting for him to get bored and wander off. He was about to ask when slowly, she started to rock back and forth. She opened her eyes and rolled them upwards to the heavens.

  He was fascinated by her ritual. He knew what it was like to be lost in prayer, and a part of his mind wondered what it was like to pray to several gods instead of one.

  And if she was truly a demigoddess, was it really praying, or was it just communicating with one’s family?

  All of a sudden, there were sparks and the smell of burnt wood. She pulled her hands back and there, before his very eyes, was a tiny fire. It would go out in a moment, for she hadn't built it in the fire pit and the kindling was sparse. Still, it was there.

  She looked up to meet his eyes.

  His eyes traced down her long neck, and her shoulders, to her wrist. Cameron stepped forward. Carefully, he placed his fingers on her little wrist bone.

  “Your bracelet,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Your bracelet is made of slate,” he said. “Any rock like that would start a fire when rubbed against another similar one. That is exactly what you did, and you distracted me with your ritual.”

  “I…” She held up her bracelets. “That is not what I did, Cameron. If that was true, then would they not be warm?”

  Cameron reached out to touch her bracelets and was surprised when his fingers met cold rock
.

  “Well...that doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “I am certain that is how you did it.”

  “How are you certain?” she asked him, softly. “Did you see it?”

  “I did not need to see to believe,” he whispered. They were standing close together and their faces were mere inches apart. Up close, her skin was flawless and her lips looked soft and luxurious. His mind flashed to what it must be like to kiss her.

  He did not want to think that, though. He should not be thinking that, because it was sinning.

  He only wanted to think pure thoughts, but Isla did not make him think pure thoughts. The thoughts he had when he saw Isla were thoughts he needed to go to confession about.

  “Isla!” David’s voice startled them both, and she jumped back.

  “I have to go,” she said to Cameron.

  “Why?” he asked. “Does he control you?”

  “I owe him my life,” Isla said.

  Cameron shook his head. “Just because you own him your life does not mean you need to submit to him,” he said to her. “God gives us all free will.”

  Isla stepped away, but her eyes were locked with his.

  “Isla,” he whispered, pleading with her.

  “Isla!” David cried, and she shook her head.

  “I will see you in the morning, Cameron,” she said, and scampered off to where the elder clansman was waiting. Cameron watched her go, and his fist clenched.

  He didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe her magic or her religion, or even her stories of adventure before she came to his camp. What he did believe, however, was that Isla was a prisoner, and she did not want to be doing this work. The look in her eyes was unmistakable. He vowed, then and there, to make sure that she was safe. He wasn’t sure how he would do it, or when he would be able to accomplish it. He was certain that he would pray for guidance along the way, but he was not sure he would get an answer. After all, would his god be willing to save a girl who followed a different path and worshipped false idols?

  A brief thought entered Cameron’s head as he walked in the opposite direction. What if she did not worship false idols at all? What if she was forced to believe in the old gods? If he freed her, would she choose his path and his beliefs? Would that mean they could walk arm in arm to church?

  There were too many unanswered questions. He knew he would have to take his tangled mind to the confessional booth for help. He was just terrified of what the answers would be.

  9

  Cameron would know the sound of those particular bagpipes from anywhere. He could be nearly dead and lying on the field, and he would still know the sound of his father approaching. His father always liked fanfare and ceremony, which Cameron could not understand. He never felt the need to announce his presence unless the men were misbehaving and they had not seen him.

  He dragged himself out of bed and managed to be standing on the field before his father caught sight of him. He was tired but assumed his father would want to speak to him before anyone else. That was often his way when he showed up after a battle. He wasn’t sure how his father made it so quickly, given that the battle had only been a few days ago.

  “Cameron,” his father said with a smile as he slid off his horse. Cameron forced a smile, even as his father clapped his hand down too hard on his shoulder.

  “Hello Father,” he replied. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

  “You wanted to bask in the glory of your victory, did you Son?” his father asked. “Well, I am sorry to ruin it, but now that I am here, it is time to go back to work.”

  “I have never shied away from hard work," Cameron replied. “I simply am surprised the messenger reached you so quickly.”

  “I was already on my way,” Jacob confessed. “Although I did not know whether I would find a celebration or a funeral pyre.”

  Cameron did not mention the fact that he wanted to be buried, not burned. Instead, he allowed his father to lead him away from the troops that were a strain to gather. All of them bowed to him, but Jacob took no notice.

  “I am proud of you, Son,” he said. “I heard that you fought well.”

  “I fought as my duty dictated,” Cameron replied.

  “And how did you like the help I sent?” Jacob asked. Cameron chose his next words carefully.

  “Do you mean Isla and David?” he asked. Jacob raised an eyebrow.

  “The demigoddess and her clansman?” he asked. “Is that who you are referring to?”

  “Did you not even know their names, Father?” Cameron asked, and Jacob shot him a look.

  “I do not appreciate that attitude, Son,” he said. “I thought that you would have at least respected the gifts I sent you.”

  “I respected the sentiment,” Cameron said. “And I utilized them, as you wished. But you cannot expect me to also believe in it?”

  His father shook his head. “Cameron, I have ridden through the night. I do not wish to debate your religion again.”

  “I am not offering a debate,” Cameron said. “I am simply telling you what happened, as any good commander would.”

  “And do you have a second attack in mind?”

  “There is no point in a second attack,” Cameron replied. “They retreated with such a force that I would be surprised if any of them ever saw battle again.”

  “That is what I like to hear,” Jacob said. “Although I have heard some rumors about you, Son, that I do not quite approve of.”

  “What rumors?” Cameron asked. He could not imagine what he had done that attracted Jacob's attention from across many miles.

  “That you and the demigoddess...have had many intense conversations,” Jacob replied.

  Cameron looked away. “And if we have?”

  “Cameron, that is not who you should be wasting your time on,” Jacob said.

  “Why am I wasting my time?” he asked. “I am simply—”

  “You think that I do not know you,” Jacob said, “and that I do not know your heart? You do not speak to women idly, Cameron, especially not with the intention of idly speaking to them for one night. I know exactly what you have in mind, Cameron, and I disapprove.”

  “You would not be proud if your son married a demigoddess?” Cameron asked him. It was in jest, but he could not resist the idea, even in the far reaches of his mind. “Wouldn’t that be the ultimate alliance?”

  “Cameron!” his father snapped at him. “Do not say such things.”

  “I am sorry,” Cameron replied. “It is not actually a thought in my head.”

  “Of course it is,” Jacob said. “You do not say what you are not thinking. I do not want to hear such thoughts again, Cameron, for it would never be a possibility.”

  “I see,” Cameron said and gritted his teeth. “Well, you do not need to worry, Father. My first duty will be to you, and the lairdship. After that, I will serve God. Hopefully, your will and God’s will are one and the same.”

  Jacob paused as he tried to decide whether or not that was an insult. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “Cameron,” he said, “I will see you at the council meeting. Hopefully, you will spend the next few hours thinking about the words you have said to me. You are lucky I am in a generous mood today.”

  “Of course,” Cameron replied. “Thank you, Father. I apologize for any offense I have caused.”

  With that, he bowed slightly and stalked off before his father could change his mind.

  It wasn’t that he was afraid of his father. If it came to it, Cameron knew he could win in any physical fight. However, obeying his father was written in the Bible, and he did not intend to disobey such an important commandment. He knew his father could have made things much more unpleasant, and he was truly grateful that he didn’t.

  He headed towards the main road, intending to work off his anger on the dirt road to the cathedral. However, he only got to the edge of the camp before he circled back.

  If his father was going to be in a foul mood, he was go
ing to give him something to be upset about.

  As he predicted, Isla was already awake. She was sitting outside her tent, sipping a cup of something that looked warmed. When she saw him, she looked up as if she was expecting him.

  “Hello,” she said. “I heard the bagpipes this morning.”

  “Yes,” he said. “My father has arrived.”

  “Does he wish to see me?” she asked, and bit her lip.

  “He did not ask to see you at the moment,” he said. “But he did mention there would be a council meeting later.”

  “Well, I suppose I should steel myself for that.”

  Cameron could have said many things to that, but he chose to stay silent. Instead, he looked down the dirt road to the town.

  “Do you want to walk with me?” he asked her.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, even though a note in her voice made it sound like she already knew.

  “To the cathedral,” he said. “You do not have to come inside. I just thought...I thought you might like to walk.”

  She paused, and looked back at David’s tent.

  “Yes,” she said. “As long as we are not away too long.”

  “I do not think we will be too long,” he said. “Even if you come in with me, morning Mass is short.”

  “I have been to Mass before,” she said, as they began to walk. That fact surprised him, and he turned to her.

  “You have?”

  “Aye,” she replied. “It has been a few years, but I used to go as a child.”

  “What brought you away from it?” he asked. She was silent on that matter, and he waited, patiently. When she still said nothing, he bent down and picked a particularly beautiful flower that was growing on the side of the road. He handed it to her and she smiled, and tucked it in her hair.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I am sorry, I was just...forming the correct answer for you.”