by Clare Wilson
‘Thank you,’ Tom answered. ‘Right now, I think I could really use something to focus on. But how would it relate to our conversation?’
‘Well, there are enchantments which can help you to communicate with animals and other creatures. If you had used your staff last night you may have understood what the Nuggie was saying to you.’
‘Do you mean there are other creatures out there attracted to magic?’ Tom asked, curious.
‘Yes,’ Torean replied, nodding. ‘There are your typical mystical creatures. We have wood fairies, they can be nasty little creatures. There are also Kelpies, a kind of water sprite you would do well to avoid.’
‘Fairies,’ said Tom, now feeling as though any logic he had managed to glean from his current situation had just been turned on its head. ‘What do the fairies look like?’ He wanted to know so he could look out for them among the trees.
‘Well,’ Torean said thoughtfully. ‘They're small with wings. They resemble a dragon fly, but if you look closely you can see they're not. They are brown and green, as these colours allow them to be camouflaged among the trees.’
‘Amazing,’ Tom whispered, now wanting to see all the creatures which must have been hidden from his eyes before.
‘Indeed,’ Torean said, smiling. ‘For now we should get back to discussing our words of power. If you wish to communicate with any of these creatures you must know what you are doing.’
‘Yes, and it may enlighten the rest of us with regard to how this whole thing works,’ Aneirin added.
‘Yes, boy,’ Torean replied, ‘you’re right. It wouldn't do you any harm to hear us talk. If we survive this, it has shown me that I must start your training with haste.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ Aneirin said, grinning.
Tom hadn’t seen him seem so positive since they had met. It was almost as if he relished this challenge.
‘Now, where to begin,’ the old man said musingly. ‘We've gone over the use of the word, amas. I used it as a tool for you to hone your control. It can be most useful in a battle situation, as it allows you to call any item you desire to you, as such, this could mean many things, even the weapon in the hand of one attacking you. Obviously this can be risky, but with the right control it can be invaluable. Also, I've told you of the word to control and produce fire, srad and amail which can put a barrier between you and a foe. We have used the word rabhadh on more than one occasion now. We will need to use this word every time we stop to make camp. It's imperative we're aware of anything breaching our defences. Also, I am not sure how much you heard, but when the Sheriff attacked I used the word Buireadh. This uses whatever's around you to create a distraction. In those circumstances it used the smoke from the fire to block the Sheriff’s vision momentarily, allowing Aneirin and his mother to escape.’
‘So does that mean in circumstances similar to ours right now it would use the wind or the trees to make a distraction?’ Aneirin asked.
‘Yes, son, exactly,’ Torean said, smiling. ‘You would be most surprised at what can come to your aid when you are using the staff. It can be wonderful what nature provides. Even the animals are on our side. I was once rescued by a flock of gulls. Believe me, there is nothing more formidable than a flock of them swooping down at you!’
Tom noticed how proudly Torean looked at Aneirin for asking such a vital question. ‘Will any of these words be able to defeat someone like Naithara?’ Tom’s question was asked doubtfully.
‘No, boy, you are right,’ Torean said, his brow furrowed. ‘To defeat someone at the centre of so much evil will take something far greater. Although the words we have discussed could be invaluable when fending off her allies. You need to remember, we are not killers. People who are consumed with evil always forget that the simplest incantation can be their undoing. We are not here to learn about such occult arts. We are here to find their weaknesses. The best heroes always use defence as their attack.’
Tom suddenly felt as though he was back in one of his favourite stories. One of his heroes would not have slain a man in cold blood. They would use defensive spells to best their enemies.
‘There is one phrase which will remove her,’ Torean said, knowing he would have them in suspense. ‘I would ask you to remember it, but never to use it until absolutely necessary. It is Aicheadh Coirbte. The words denounce evil, but it will probably take both of us saying these words for them to have the desired effect. That's why I summoned the power of MacKay. I could sense the evil was too strong for me to take on by myself.’
‘What does the phrase do?’ Aneirin asked.
‘Well,’ the old man said, ‘it basically draws any evil from the person you're fighting and leaves them without their strength. When this happens they either run or end up consumed by the force which has possessed them. Therefore if they die, it is not our doing. It is the evil power within them which brings about their end.’
‘Well, hopefully I‘ll be enough.’ Tom said despondently.
‘Don’t worry, my boy,’ the old man said. ‘You have shown great resilience and you must believe in yourself. Also, do not forget, the staff that you wield is very powerful, and our power does not rely upon strength but upon control. MacKays are not known as muscle bound heroes. Our success depends upon our wits. If you are smart of mind and quick of tongue you will prevail.’
Tom wasn’t sure if this made him feel any better about the situation. Would they get the chance to exorcise the evil within Lady Naithara? Or would they be hunted like animals where they slept among these lonely hills? Yet again, Tom found himself wishing his grandfather was with them. He was sure that like a hero in one of Tom’s books, he would have defeated Lady Anstruther already.
They had now been walking for about an hour and a half and had reached the point where the road became more treacherous. ‘Well, here we go,’ Adaira said, dismounting Onero. ‘Be sure of foot, my dear friend, we don’t want to lose you now,’ she added, patting the horse on the rump kindly.
The horse seemed scared, as though he knew where they were about to lead him. Torean approached the animal and raised his staff. ‘Suaimhneach, Onero. We'll ensure your safety,’ he whispered. The horse seemed visibly calmer and started the climb up the narrow pathway which led to Devil’s Ford.
‘I imagine that’s another word I should remember?’ Tom asked Torean.
‘Yes, suaimhneach calms animals. It is also the word which can be used to communicate with them, although when I say communicate I mean it in its crudest sense. You will not be having a conversation with them about the weather, but it allows you to understand emotions and see images. In cases such as our Nuggie, it should help you understand their speech because they use language.’
‘Do you think I’ll see it again?’ Tom asked hopefully.
‘Probably,’ Torean replied. ‘It sounds as though it was trying to communicate, so I would wager it'll return at some point.’
As Tom now started the climb at the back of the party, he found himself thinking that he had a great deal to remember. He decided to use the climb to go back over the words in his head. He hoped that when they made camp he could try a few out, depending upon their surroundings. Silence had fallen upon the group as they apprehensively climbed the steep path into the hills. It was a narrow path with a sheer drop on one side. One wrong footing could mean death, so concentration was paramount. Several times as they walked, rocks gave way at the edge of the path and tumbled down to the gully below. The countryside surrounding them was beautiful, although treacherous. Tom stopped for a moment to catch his breath and looked out over the valley towards the village of Cairn Holme. The sky was a piercing blue and it made the green valley below look vibrant and alive. Tom could see the stream coming down from the mountains to the loch at the far end of the village. It was a peaceful morning and the water looked like a sheet of glass in the distance. Tom suddenly realised the others had stopped to wait on him, and so picked up the pace to keep up.
Chapter Eight
> A Problem Shared
Back at the Laird’s house, Lizzy had been unable to sleep all night. She rose before dawn and decided she would sneak back to the clearing where the band was due to meet. If the Laird was going to help her she had best know what the group intended to do about Torean. Deep down, she was also putting off the inevitable conversation with the Laird, because she was sure he would think her utterly insane. While he was aware his niece was precocious, he was hardly likely to believe she was in league with an evil being and was plotting to commit murder.
She donned her cloak and headed out of the house while it was still dark. The birds had started to stir, but no-one else had yet risen for the morning. The path she followed on her route to the clearing was hidden in a thick morning mist. While this helped to keep her hidden as she walked, it also made the journey difficult as she couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her. As she reached the clearing she climbed the same tree as before. Part way up the tree she caught her cloak on a branch. In a moment of panic she had to try to free the fabric, she was petrified one of the men might arrive and see her in the trees. She had no choice but to rip her cloak in order to free it. As she did so, a small piece of fabric fell to the ground. She knew she didn’t have time to go down to the ground to retrieve it and hoped it would not be seen by any of the group. All she could do now was wait patiently.
Before long the Sheriff arrived in the clearing, looking as though he too had not slept well the night before. His hair was unkempt and he had not changed his clothes from those he had worn the night before. Dark circles under his eyes, he was mumbling to himself. ‘What to do… You got yourself into this, Michael… I didn’t want to be involved in evil!’ He paced around the clearing looking like an animal in a cage.
Soon more people began to arrive and as they gathered together it was clear the Sheriff was not going to be allowed to control this discussion. The group had obviously decided, without him, that his previous incompetence made him unfit for the task. The Sheriff looked visibly relieved that he was not expected to mastermind any plan to resolve the situation.
The Lord Provost seemed to be taking the lead. ‘Well, I believe it’s obvious that from the position of the farm they would head to Longford’s Pass. If Torean is as powerful as Lady Naithara believes, then he is unlikely to still remain there after all this time. However, I think we should all head for the Pass and search for any clues of their whereabouts. From there we can split into groups and search for them. We cannot afford to fail gentlemen; Lady Naithara will not be best pleased if we do not have good news for her this evening.’
‘I agree, and if we are to proceed with this tactic,’ the minister cut in, ‘may I suggest we all go home and dress as though we are a hunting party? If someone were to come across us they would be most suspicious, especially of the Sheriff here who looks like a crazed man who has been out all night.’
The Sheriff looked down at his waistcoat, trying to straighten his shirt and flatten his hair.
A man Lizzy did not recognise spoke at this point. ‘Yes, I concur. I suggest we separate and meet back here in an hour. From there we can head for Longford’s Pass. It shouldn't take more than two hours to reach our destination. Hopefully, by lunchtime we will have made some positive progress.’
The Sheriff spoke sheepishly at this point. ‘What if we are unable to stop him? He obviously wields great power if he can escape a burning building unharmed and un-noticed. Will we be capable of killing him?’
The Lord Provost responded in a voice which showed he was already tired of the Sheriff’s company. ‘Sir, those of us who have been party to Lady Naithara’s cause for a little longer have more knowledge than you. We know of certain spells that can be used in a fight. Plus, I believe we must have two goals. It would be good to have the man dead. Nevertheless, we must make our primary objective to destroy his staff. It is my understanding that without the staff he is as good as dead anyway. Besides, we have not been charged with killing him, since you failed so miserably last time. Lady Naithara asked that we bring him to her. I believe she wants to take care of this business personally.’
The crowd seemed to be murmuring in agreement. ‘Well,’ said the Minister. ‘Shall we meet here at seven o’clock?’
The men all nodded to one another. The group did not linger and after a short time went their separate ways.
Lizzy, terrified by the events she had witnessed, stayed in the tree until she was sure the group had completely cleared the area. Once she was sure they had all left, she quietly lowered herself from the tree and headed swiftly back towards the house. Lizzy was struggling to contain herself and as soon as she had left the clearing broke into a run. Again, she felt a mixture of fear and relief that Torean was still alive. Sweating by the time she opened the scullery door, she closed it behind her as quietly as possible and had to lean against the door for several seconds trying to catch her breath. She slid to the floor shaking and sat there on the cold stone for several minutes trying to calm herself. After she had slowed her breathing and stopped trembling, she removed her cloak and made to leave the room. It would not do to bump into someone in the house looking as though she had already been out that morning, so nervously she crept up the stairs to her attic room.
After depositing her cloak she returned downstairs to start her chores for the day. Turning to look at the kitchen clock on the wall she saw it was past six. She could not start her chores and pretend nothing was happening. She would have to do something. Lizzy was unsure about waking the Laird at such an hour, but she couldn’t see that she had any choice now. What more could she achieve on her own? As she tiptoed towards the old man’s bedroom door and gently knocked, she realised she was shaking. She took a deep breath in order to steady herself and entered the darkened room. Afraid of waking him too suddenly, she approached his bedside and touched him on the shoulder. ‘My Lord,’ she said quietly.
‘Hrrmmph?’ was the only noise which came from the depths of the enormous bed. It was a large wooden four poster bed, and even the Laird, who was not a small man, seemed to be enveloped by its size.
‘My Lord,’ repeated Lizzy gently.
The old man grumped and rolled over to face her.
‘It’s Lizzy,’ she continued, ‘I apologise for waking you so early. I have something which I must discuss with you urgently.’
By this time the old man had begun to come round and slowly heaved himself into a sitting position in bed. ‘Well, my dear,’ he said groggily. ‘What’s all this? What in God’s name can you have to tell me that cannot wait until a more gentlemanly hour?’
‘Well, my Lord,’ she said, now hesitant from his grumpy reaction, ‘it regards your niece and the incident with the MacKays.’
‘What’s this?’ The mention of Torean’s family seemed to have sparked the old man’s attention. ‘Has something else happened?’ he asked, now suddenly looking awake. ‘Are Adaira and Aneirin okay?’
‘They're fine, my Lord,’ she said, trying not to panic him. ‘Or they are fine for now, as far as I know.’ said Lizzy, anxious to get to the point of her story. ‘Nonetheless, something has happened. What I'm about to tell you will sound improbable, or even insane. I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I must tell someone. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to Torean and I hadn't told you.’
‘Torean?’ the Laird muttered, now thoroughly confused. ‘My girl, I hate to tell you this, but Torean MacKay is dead.’ The old man said gently and touched her hand.
‘My Lord,’ Lizzy said, beginning to feel frustrated and impatient. ‘He's not dead. But if we do not act quickly he soon will be.’
The Laird looked deeply disturbed by Lizzy’s words and the conviction she seemed to have. He had never seen her so full of passion.
‘You see,’ Lizzy said, speaking quickly. She was determined to finish her story now she had begun. ‘Your niece and the Sheriff planned the attack upon the MacKay family. Their intention was to kill Torean MacKay, but
I discovered last night their mission was unsuccessful, and that shortly, a band of men will hunt him and his family in the hills to finish the job they started at the farm.’ Lizzy seemed to visibly sag now that she had managed to get her story out. Her cheeks highly coloured, it had taken a great deal of effort to tell another human being of what had been troubling her.
‘Lizzy,’ the Laird said in a voice which sounded both serious and also held a hint of pity. ‘Those are very serious accusations. Even if what you say is true, why would my niece and Sheriff Macdonald wish to kill Torean MacKay? I realise she believes him to be a poacher, but it is quite a leap to then suggest she would wish him dead.’
‘Sir,’ said Lizzy, now trying desperately to make him understand, ‘I believe your niece has become involved in something which is far more serious than poaching. I have had suspicions about her behaviour for some time now. When I overheard her and the Sheriff talking, I decided to try to find out more in order to help Torean. The night after the Sheriff’s visit with us for dinner, I left the house and crept to the MacKay farm so I could warn Torean they would be coming for him. He was not surprised, my Lord. Then, after the visit from the Sheriff when he advised you Torean was dead, I…’ Lizzy’s voice broke. She wanted to get through this without getting upset. ‘I overheard him and Lady Naithara arranging a meeting.’ Lizzy was now becoming so worked up telling her story that she was close to tears.
‘There, there, my dear, take your time.’ The Laird held her hand, encouraging her to continue.
‘I hope you understand,’ she said, ‘that because of the information I had become privy to, I had no choice but to go to the meeting myself to try to ascertain what was happening. I discovered your niece is working with some very powerful people and together they summoned something, something evil.’
‘Lizzy, forgive me,’ the Laird said, in as patient a voice as he could muster. ‘But you must see that this all sounds a little far fetched.’