The bend caught. I yanked.
A zing trilled through the sunny morn's air.
Katie's handhold slipped away.
"That's it, lad. In it goes," the duke coaxed.
Lad? Did the man have to be so insulting?
Certainly, the duke was no more than ten years my senior. If even that. I took the two final steps to the ring's heart and thrust my blade deep within the weathered gray rock.
The stone accepted the sword. But the bend remained.
"Aye. There you have it," The Seal chuckled. "Now to repair it in Time."
Leave it to the fairies to fix the time-travel key while a man was en route across time and space. Would the duke be so kind as to leak any more information? "Is there anything else I'm to know before I embark?"
The man stood motionless save for the breeze fondling his purple and green plaid. A wee ball of light whipped over The Seal's shoulder.
Macha. Gods spare me another fey jest.
The yellow orb circled the base of the stone and spiraled upward around the jagged column. At the top, the sphere expanded, sprouting limbs and a head.
"What is that?" Katie amplified.
Trouble. "A fey." I just stared at the writhing hair of the Goddess.
"A what?"
The fey floated to the ground, settling two shiny black shoes in the heather.
In her misty drape of clothing, Macha was all but dressed to ride her infamous horse race, the one where she'd ridden pregnant and given birth to twins upon winning the race in Irish prehistory. "A fairy," I said. "One of the three Goddesses of Ireland." I dare not turn my gaze from the fey. I tucked Katie beneath his arm. "Rest easy. She cannot harm you."
"I have not come to harm anyone." Macha's eerie voice wavered in and out as if fading only to ricochet back at us. She turned her luminescent green gaze to The Seal. "What do you ask of me?"
The Seal nodded slightly and pointed at me. "See this worthy couple back to my great grandfather where he can offer them refuge."
"Has Ring Master McEwen agreed to leave the logistics to me?" she questioned the duke.
The protection of a Goddess? No sense in risking my maiden's life. "Aye."
"Then place your palms upon the stone," Macha cooed.
Well, there'd be no arguing. I pushed Katie toward the stone.
My dutiful bride complied. The Seal's retreating footfalls whispered as he exited the stone circle. Sunlight glinted off the protruding section of the bent nidium claymore.
Lugh's energy was good to see.
Taking Katie's warm hands, I straightened her thin fingers with my thumbs and turned her palms toward the rock. "Press your palms against the stone." I didn't wait for her to do so, but pushed her hands to the gray surface, then laid my right hand next to the sword's extruding blade. Blessed Conn, be with us. "Let it be done, Macha."
Vibrations hummed beneath my palms.
"What is that?" Katie asked.
The ball of light zipped past my head and whizzed around us. Faster and faster.
"What is that fairy doing?" Katie demanded.
The alarm in her voice forewarned she might bolt. "I'm right here, Katie. Do not fear. The fey is assisting in our journey."
"We're go-ing some-whe--" Her words disappeared.
In Time.
Sound waves crackled.
My ears popped.
"Don't let go, Katie," I warned. But the words felt distant. Hollow.
Macha moved so quickly the world glowed a blinding gold.
The color of the Gods.
Tumbling, yet perfectly still, my body hung aloft in transit. Blind. But seeing an eerie streaking golden light.
"You have saved the maiden," an eerie female voice lilted. "Now safeguard her from a changeling planted by renegade gods. Now she must secure history." The voice faded.
Secure history? Katie? How?
A hard warm surface suddenly scratched my palms.
Vegetation. I wiggled my fingers.
The golden light gave way to a blinding stabbing ray of light. My brilliant sword took form. Blue sky glared beyond the gray glittering stone surface. I stood, Katie between my arms facing the standing stone.
"Murdo?" she rasped a bit without turning.
As if she just woke from a long night's sleep. I shook a daze loose that hung in my mind and turned her with a grip on her shoulders until I stared into her squared yellow eyebrows. She was distraught but not even one hair on her head was mussed.
"We are safe," I said.
"I heard a voice." She glanced at the heather beneath our feet and looked at me timidly. "Are you going tell me Destiny was talking?"
I could have laughed at that point. Especially after she confronted Ronat. But Macha's words hadn't told me everything. I just had to protect Katie from whatever lurked in the Universe. "A Brother never knows his future. Only his mission. I didn't know my mission when I was marooned in the twenty-first century. Duty told me to help you. Then Black Liam informed me of my assignment. Now, we know the War Furies are behind our binding. Why don't we go see what you're asked to do to secure history now?"
"No problem. For the record, I'm glad you found me." She winked.
****
Katie blocked the sun from her eyes with a hand at her brow. But the sun isn't as caustic as the view. That brown stone monstrosity jutting up before the craggy Grampian Mountains couldn't be Ronat Castle. "That is not Blair Castle." The beauty I visited last summer had whitewashed turrets and stretched on like a gleaming treasure in the forested hillside.
"Aye. 'Tis."
Right. I met Murdo's steady blue gaze.
His broad shoulders supported the blue sky like the squared Cummings Tower in the distance. Now, he's a sight. Like Ronat Castle was when I visited it. "But last summer--"
"This is 1757, Katie. Holiday resort castles don't appear until the nineteenth century."
Okay. I'd have to keep an open mind. Yes. That was Cummings Tower. Where is the Disney castle?
Murdo blinked and patted my shoulder consolingly. "We're almost home. Just be patient with me."
After hiking for two days, I'm not about to argue. A soft bed with clean blankets was mighty appealing. And a bath never sounded more inviting. "I can't wait to bathe."
"I'd hold off on that demand. 'Twas not a thing these Centurians gladly practiced. You'll have to wait a century or two."
No bath? Time travel should have lots of perks when you can just hook a left through a stone circle and step into a modern bathroom. I took a step up the meandering dirt road.
Bath. I'm taking a damned bath. I won't be as dark and dirty as the trodden path disappearing into that fortified compound. "Well, they better get used to my cleanliness. They brought me here. And I don't see myself getting to fashion swords anytime soon."
Murdo's blue-and-green kilt snapped in periphery. "You must remember, my love, no one will understand your accent or your twenty-first-century reasoning. Nor that a woman would desire to work metal. You must keep that to yourself."
How many times would he chant the sour ditty? The news stunk. He matched his pace to mine though. The proof of his kindness. Just like Uncle John and Black Liam, combined. I'd never trade him for metal smithing in the twenty-first century. I'd miss him as much as I miss Uncle John. "Do you think Uncle John was a Ring Master?"
"No."
What a quick reply. Definitive. "You could tell?"
"There was naught to discern. He was a Freemason. The Brotherhood conceals the knowledge of time travel. Your uncle did his duty as a Freemason for the good of humanity. But not as a Brother."
I waved at the castle. "And what do these men do for humanity?"
"We'll know soon enough." He pointed his nose back down the road.
Not another mystery to which my husband hid all the answers. Although I wanted to spit bullets, I bit the sore tip of my tongue. It's a wonder I haven't bit it often these days.
Birds twittered among the jingling leaves. Our footsteps whisked
the road far behind us. Then we passed through the gated low wall. A courtyard stretched in every direction. Buildings ringed the dark hoof-pocked ground. And Murdo led the way across the hard-packed courtyard.
"Who goes there?" a man called from behind me.
Murdo stopped, grabbing my elbow.
Leaving me to teeter.
"I've been sent with my wife to the Marquis de Athol," Murdo timbered. "I seek shelter."
Especially since there didn't seem to be much shelter any direction anyone turned in this time period. I spun and spotted the lanky kilted man's approach.
The guard sauntered over, quite sure of himself with a Spanish-hilted sword at his hip. "Your name," he demanded.
Just what we needed now. A sentry who seemed displeased to see us. What now? Run? Fight?
"McEwen. Murdo McEwen."
The guard's pace quickened, snapping his black-and-blue kilt at his bare knees. "The duke has been awaiting your arrival." He waved a hand toward one of many doorways across a yard. "This way, sir."
"What?" I whispered at Murdo's side. "That's Blackwatch plaid. Isn't it?" Well, whether the Blackwatch guarded this fortress to keep the peace between the Highlands and the rest of Scotland remained to be seen.
"Hurry."
Insufficient answers seemed all I am to receive today. But what was a girl to do stranded in another time? Well, he knows what to do. I hooked fingers back around the safety of Murdo's elbow and crossed the courtyard.
We passed through a large doorway, stepping into a shady room sparsely populated with wooden chairs and a table in two corners.
Rather dull for a marquis.
The men headed toward a doorway lit with sunlight. The door led into a shaded alley ending in walls. The guard turned left. Stone walls guided us after him where the wall inconspicuously turned right toward the main square building that thrust skyward as part of Cummings Tower.
"The roof was mended after Culloden." The guard's words echoed off the dark stone walls. "The portrait staircase is a recent addition. The duke fancies the staircase quite spectacular."
"I'm certain 'tis magnificent," Murdo replied.
Discussing architecture won't make me feel better. Why in the Hades are we here? Someone could explain. Like Murdo. Apparently, men don't stop for directions or complain. I stepped through the large doorway.
The inside of the castle was oddly clean. A staircase wound up along a wooden paneled wall and turned to ascend to a second floor. Portraiture graced the ornately-papered walls en route to the upper floor. But there isn't any time to study the paintings up close. The guard led us into an enormous hall where stained-glass windows lined the walls. Five men milled around a central seated male. All six wore kilts and swords. And Blackwatch plaid.
That's odd. Uncle John always talked about how the kilt was outlawed garb after Culloden.
"My lord," the guard boomed, "the McEwen has arrived."
Huh?
The men turned, glanced, and descended upon us like a wave of festive plaid.
The seated man, presumably the duke, rose and stepped forward with arms cast wide. "A hundred thousand welcomes. I see our sword smith has arrived."
Has? I was expected?
The squeak of leather crescendoed with the bend of boot leather and swaying sheathed swords. The kilted men circled in with conspiratorial slants to their discerning gazes.
What now? Receding hairlines, sporrans, and glinting gold rings on fingers made these men out to be indispensable well-paid mercenaries of their day.
The duke pushed into the crowd of spectators, plying forward. He didn't look at all like his descendent. His dark brown hair and full lips were a far cry from the sophisticated twenty-first- century grandson.
Murdo tucked me beneath his arm. "What do you know of this, Duke Ronat?"
The duke smiled with great earnest at me. "We've needed a sword smith since ours was lost in the '45."
They expected me because they lost their sword smith at Culloden? Oh, yeah? I'm important? Right. Maybe now is a good time to barter for a bathtub.
"The smith's sword arm is sadly missed. His skill in singing metal into form more so." The duke winked at me.
That sinister short dark beard made him appear every ounce the villain.
"How did you know we were coming?" Murdo challenged.
The throng of men chuckled.
The duke thrust a palm out for a handshake. "I'd wager you cannot guess the number of Ring Masters who grace these halls? They replaced the casualties from the battles twelve years past. And with their swords, Highlanders secretly maintain power." The duke grinned from ear to ear. "Do not fear, Brother. You're home at long last."
Murdo took the offered palm and shook with gusto. "I was told there's naught to return to."
Ronat nodded. "You'll stay here. I've a bit of land down by the River Tay for you and your maiden. Help yourself to my clams and buy what you will with the pearls." The duke riveted his gaze upon me again. "And the lady may tend to whatever strikes her fancy in the dungeon."
The dungeon? Am I a prisoner?
"There's naught to fear, Katie McEwen." The duke patted my shoulder. "I've a grand setup for metalworking below the castle. The fey left a few interesting tools for the smith to tinker with. The foundry is yours." He peered around the group of attentive men. "The Ring Masters will treat you respectfully."
An entire foundry for me? No way. This circus is truly a dream.
Murdo's arm tightened slightly and released me. "You were saying you would miss fashioning swords."
Yes. It's my dream. Realized. Crazy.
"You can build a croft by the river," the duke added.
So many new things are here. So many dreams waited here. In this mixed-up time of history? But Murdo seemed content with what we just learned. I stared at his questioning mask. "Is it safe to live so far from the fortress these days?"
Murdo nodded. "I'd say living under the duke's protection on his land we've naught to fear."
Well, I'd make one request. Okay. Demand. After all, I'm doing the man a service living here without electricity. What woman wouldn't try to get all she could out of the bargain? "Can you provide me with a bathtub?"
The ring of men erupted in laughter, all except the duke, who stood with his hands on his hips in silent confusion.
Not the reaction I wanted. "I suppose I could melt down your sword collection and cast myself my own bathing vessel."
The room fell oddly silent.
The pompous man expelled loudly. "Then I suppose I'll have to find you one." He turned to a large redhead. "Have we anything suitable on the grounds, MacKenzie?"
Grounds? Hopefully no flying pig heads on silver platters. "And your dungeon?"
The duke turned to me.
As if he meant to note my bad attitude. I straightened my spine. "The dungeon isn't haunted. Is it?"
Murdo chuckled, squeezing my waist. "She's had a run in with a spirit."
The duke smiled from ear to ear. "There's no spirits in my dungeon, lass. For now."
"Ahoy in the hall," a man shouted from the entrance. The fellow burst through the doorway. His kilt flapped wildly at his knees, grinning. "Forgive my intrusion, my lord. I was hastened to your hall by one rather determined fey."
"Why am I not surprised?" Murdo muttered at the newcomer.
"You are always welcome at my court, Scotty," the marquis trumpeted. "I gather you've come to speak with the McEwen."
"Aye, Sire." Scotty leveled his brown gaze upon my husband.
Who is he? These people act like they know him. And his formality means the man has some training in dealing with nobles.
The crowd shuffled and plowed toward the doorway.
Dispersing as if some invisible hand shoved them along with a silent fire drill.
The Marquis met Murdo's gaze. "Please let me know if there is anything our smith needs. We are most grateful you brought her to us." He nodded at both of the two men and headed after th
e last of the retreating kilts.
Fairies, Destiny, and a humble nobleman?
"What's happening?" Murdo had to know. After all, he'd been trained for this wackiness.
Murdo offered a straight-lipped smile. "We shall know soon enough."
Oh boy. What an answer. But somehow someway something had to be pulling us here. Bringing us to this point of time. Together. Destiny? Maybe. Murdo would call it that. "Is that what you call mystic revelation?"
"How did you guess I'm a mystic?"
College must have changed a lot through time. "Anthropology of Religion was a great class."
His eyebrows arched. "You've taken much anthropology have you?"
"A few electives. They helped with symbolism in art." I shrugged.
But Murdo said nothing else, snaking his arms across his chest, waiting for the newcomer to debrief him. What would Scotty have to say?
Scotty claimed a space before us and looked Murdo in the eye. "A hundred-thousand welcomes, Brother." He nodded. "It's all right to speak here. We're safeguarded against local servants. Only old-timers grace these halls."
****
How did the Orders manage outfitting an entire eighteenth-century castle with Order servants from the future? And here is a man I do not know who calls himself a fellow Brother? "A hundred-thousand welcomes."
"I'm from the twenty-first century. I run a type of training program at Ronat's Castle." Scotty winked. "A very shady lot of visitors for retraining, I must say. But now, you've come to our sanctuary."
A sanctuary was just what I would have sought out for Katie. "Aye. And what of the fairy plot disclosed to us on our jaunt through the time-travel wormhole?"
Scotty smiled at Katie. "I hope your first jaunt through the looking-glass was delightful."
She exhaled loudly. "Would people start coming clean with me? I'd like to know what's going on."
"Since you both need to know, give me a moment." Scotty shot us a killer grin.
Katie's chastising stare didn't seem to find the grin appealing. "I'm waiting."
Well, this Brother had his hands full of a nasty dose of duty.
Scotty's mirthful mask drained with seriousness. "Katie is going to work here repairing relics and help us descry nidium's composition in our quest to understand time travel."
Since when did Brothers have no significance? "And I'm chopped beef?"
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 107