Chosen by Fire

by Harriet Locksley

  Kaetha touched the tiny, bright yellow petals, then wrapped her arms around her father in a hug. In that moment, she wished she could forget her plans to leave. She wanted simply to live happily with her father, Donnan and Kintail.

  “Well, I wasn’t quite expecting that response,” said Aedan. When Kaetha drew away from him, Kintail jumped onto his lap and curled up.

  “That was thoughtful, Pa,” said Kaetha. “My mother’s favourite flower. Edonians call them flowers of the little sun, did you know that?”

  Donnan squinted. “The little sun?”

  “The season of the little sun is what they call winter.” Kaetha smiled. “Did you . . . did you ever pick them for her?”

  Aedan scratched his beard as he sometimes did when he felt uncomfortable. “I didn’t know they were her favourite. But I’m glad you like them.”

  The memory returned to her of the time she had inadvertently glimpsed her father’s thoughts, only days after they had first met. Morwena had been upset and angry with him once, she’d given him back a token of love and had told him to go.

  “You did give her a bracelet, though.”

  The colour rose to Aedan’s cheeks. He coughed. “Aye.”

  Why did she return it? Why didn’t you fight for her, stay with her? Were you unfaithful to her? She couldn’t bring herself to voice any of these thoughts. He was the only family who had accepted her. What if she pushed him away?

  “Kaetha, why don’t you tell Aedan what you were just telling me?” said Donnan.

  Kaetha stared at him, giving him the barest shake of her head.

  “What was that?” said Aedan.

  “It’s just that . . .” she began, “It’s just, I’ve been thinking of an idea to help us save more for next winter. I don’t know how much wood sorrel soup I can bear.”

  Aedan laughed. “Well, your ideas are welcome. I’m just ashamed I didn’t provide well enough for us this year.”

  “Don’t be ashamed. We’re all responsible for each other,” she said. “We’re family.”

  Donnan held her gaze. “Aye,” he said. “Family.”

  TWELVE

  The Festival of the Sea

  After turning the last rack of fish, Aedan climbed down the ladder and hopped out of the smokehouse. Kaetha tossed another shovelful of wood chips onto the embers, watching them release a sigh of smoke. She sat against the outside wall, scratching her knife into a piece of driftwood, carving shapes – a bird, a stag, a fish.

  “You’ll like the festival,” he said, sitting beside her. “It brings people together.”

  From here, she could see the first fires on the beach blossoming into life, revellers filing down the paths, like moths drawn to the flames.

  “I almost forgot. I have something for you.”

  “For me?”

  “I got them in Calamor. Do you like them?”

  He placed a pair of silver earrings into her palm, each shaped like a leaf. They reminded her of a necklace her mother had worn. She wondered if Aedan had thought of that too or if it had just been by chance that he’d picked them out.

  She put the delicate hooks through her pierced ears. “I love them. Thank you.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “I hope you didn’t spend too much.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’re doing well and it’s all because of your idea, helping the Morays as well as us. Did I tell you how the merchants in Calamor were fighting over our smoked fish yesterday?”

  “You did.” She laughed.

  Aedan cleared his throat. “Kaetha?”

  She stiffened then, uneasy at his uncertain tone.

  “There’s something I wanted to tell you before we join the others.” He paused.

  She raised her head from his shoulder. “You’re going to marry Mairi.” What else could it have been?

  He nodded, a smile lighting up his face.

  “You’re ready to settle down then?”

  “It’s about time, I suppose,” he said with a laugh.

  “And what of your dream to have a ship again and sail to far off lands? The business is going well, like you said. You could buy a ship soon. Do you really want to be tied to Braddon?”

  He gazed out at the sea. “Coming back here, building my life again,” he ruffled her hair, “being a father – so much has changed. I’ve changed. I hadn’t thought I was the marrying kind.”

  “No,” she said softly.

  “It’s surprised me. I don’t feel the desire to seek distant horizons any more. I’ll still get my ship someday though, don’t you worry, but there are plenty of opportunities to trade closer to home. I won’t need to be far from you women for long.”

  A sinking feeling pulled at her, making it impossible to look at him then. He didn’t imagine her on the ship with him, working with him, exploring and trading alongside him. He imagined her at home with Mairi, waiting for him, helping to look after the home and any children they had. Children who were planned and wanted.

  “I’m happy for you, Pa,” she said, forcing a smile.

  She began to harden herself again to the idea of leaving Braddon as she’d always planned to do. Then she thought about how Aedan had sailed away once, leaving Morwena behind, heartbroken and with child. Did he purposely leave when things got difficult? Is that just what I’m planning to do too? Is that what I did when I left Gwyn? She tried to persuade herself that the prospect of living with Mairi was not why she was leaving. She was leaving to seek answers and justice for her mother.

  She looked down at the fish she’d carved and thought of the salmon run she and Aedan had been looking forward to seeing in the Autumn. She wouldn’t see it this year, for she would be making her own journey back to the place where she was born.

  They made their way to Cannasay where the fragrance of wood smoke mingled in the salty air and pans sizzled with frying fish, eggs and sweet pancakes. A rhythm of drumbeats danced upon the air, punctuating the chattering and laughter. Kaetha’s feet tapped to the beat and she found herself smiling, determined to enjoy herself tonight.

  “Kaetha!” Elspet grabbed her hand.

  “Come and have food with us,” said Rorie who appeared at his sister’s side.

  As happened all too often when Rorie started a conversation with her, her tongue felt fat and stupid in her mouth, unable to form even simple words like ‘thank you’. It was because he had surprised her, she considered. She touched her earrings and smoothed down her plait as she followed them to one of the beach fires. Dermid knelt by the fire, its light shining on his balding head. He prodded fillets of mackerel and they crackled in the pan, glistening with melted butter, rings of onion softening around them. When they were cooked, they ate them on top of slices of toasted bread, sprinkled with herbs.

  “Good?” asked Rorie.

  She nodded. “Good,” she said with her mouth full of crunchy toast and rich, oily fish. Mairi joined them then and Kaetha discerned the subtle looks she and Aedan exchanged which she might have overlooked before, looks which implied confidence and security as well as the affection which must have been apparent to all.

  The swollen sun, golden as an egg yolk, was easing its way down through the western sky, casting a bronze light on the distant Greyhide Hills of Penntir. Tonight would be the shortest night of the year. A time for change.

  Aedan unstoppered a leather bottle of whiskey and Jean produced some cups. “What’s for you won’t go by you,” said Aedan. A frown creased his brow. “Where’s Donnan? Wasn’t he meant to meet us here?”

  “He was meant to help out at the smokehouse but never showed up,” said Kaetha, looking around.

  “Well, we’ll save him a dram.” Aedan raised his cup. “Drink up, everyone.”

  Mairi tapped her cup against Kaetha’s. Unused to neat whisky, it felt like liquid fire sliding down her throat and she panted in the cool air, the others laughing at her. She couldn’t help laughing herself.

  “Let’s hope Macomrag gets the ceremony right and satis
fies the spirits of the sea,” said Dermid.

  Rorie rolled his eyes making Elspet giggle.

  “Don’t you go offending the spirits of the sea, lad,” said Jean, pointing a finger at him. “It them that provide the fish that fills your belly.”

  “I don’t like this talk of spirits,” said Mairi with a shiver. “Personally, I like to get the ceremony over with quickly. More time then for people to enjoy themselves.”

  “Is that right?” Aedan gave Mairi a meaningful look and her cheeks went a little pink.

  They all stood as Indulf Macomrag appeared. One of his clansmen draped a seal hide cloak over his shoulders and placed a necklace of fish bones over his head. Kaetha saw Murdo looking on, a look of barely suppressed repulsion on his face.

  “What’s Murdo’s problem?” she asked.

  “The ceremony was an Edonian one originally, though the Macomrags pretend it’s an old family tradition of theirs,” said Rorie.

  “But why do they do it? They hate everything Edonian, don’t they?” she said.

  “Indulf forbade other ceremonies and traditions but allowed the people this one,” said Dermid. “He had to give us something Edonian to quell the rebellions.”

  “And he gets the chance to look powerful,” added Jean.

  The high chieftain strode across a jetty and stepped onto a rowing boat which had been decked in trailing seaweeds. The crowd hushed.

  “Today, I completed the riding of the clanland bounds, calling on the heavens for the protection of our land and giving thanks for our peaceful relations with our neighbours,” boomed Indulf. He spread his arms wide. “People of Mormuin and welcome guests from the clanlands of Penntir and Artos, we celebrate the blessings of Sea and Sun on this, the longest day.” There was a scattered cheer amongst the people. Indulf took a large spiralled shell from the boat and dipped it into the sea, lifting it high, then drinking from it, saltwater dripping down his beard. “The sea is in our blood,” he called.

  “The sea is in our blood,” responded the crowd all together. Aedan poured them each another dram.

  “A tribute of silver for the silver sea,” continued Indulf, scattering a handful of silver coins which plinked into the water.

  The tiny hairs on the back of Kaetha’s neck stood on end and she knew it wasn’t because of the cool breeze. There were Fuathans in the harbour. They were hidden in the water, yet her focus was drawn to particular spots and she knew there must be at least seven there. Could they have been attracted by the silver coins? Kaetha pictured a flash of black, staring eyes, remembering the Fuathan in the River Eachburn and how it could so easily have drowned her.

  “Are you alright?” Mairi asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.” She lowered her voice. “Was there something wrong with the fish?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Let us give thanks for her bounty,” continued Indulf, winding up fishing lines which were secured to the boat. Everyone cheered as he held up the mackerel, sea trout and salmon, even though everyone knew that the lines had been prepared earlier with their ‘catches’. People seemed to convince themselves that the three fish were a sign that the sea was promising them plentiful harvests through the rest of the year, even though one of the fish had unfortunately been half gnawed.

  “In the months to come, may your nets bulge and your barns be filled, thanks to the riches of the sea and the kindness of the great summer sun.” He punched his fist into the air. “Leap the fires!” he bellowed.

  ‘Leap the fires! Leap the fires!’ echoed the intoxicated crowd with much excited jumping and cheers.

  “What’s that?” Kaetha asked.

  “You’re about to see,” said her father, grinning.

  “I don’t like this part either,” said Mairi.

  Rorie jogged back a few yards and then ran at the fire. Kaetha gasped but he jumped just in time, pulling up his legs, narrowly avoiding the flames. He received applause and slaps on the back, as did other young men who took their turns to leap over the beach fires.

  She laughed. “But what if anyone gets burned?”

  “Chuck ‘em in the sea!” said Nannie with a dry, crackly laugh. Kaetha hadn’t seen her approach.

  “Don’t get too near the fire, Nannie,” said Mairi, taking her arm.

  A grin spread across Kaetha’s face and she ran up to the flames, hitching up her skirts as she jumped.

  “Kaetha, no!” shouted Mairi.

  It was exhilarating, the rush of being so close to danger. Landing safely on the other side of the fire, she laughed again. The Morays looked impressed, clapping her achievement, but Aedan and Mairi stared at her, stony-faced.

  “Why do such a foolish thing?” reprimanded Mairi.

  “Sometimes you forget to think before you act, lass,” said Aedan. “That wasn’t a risk you should have taken.”

  “It’s a risk boys younger than me are taking now before your eyes,” she said, gesturing around them.

  “You could have been hurt,” said Mairi. “You could have ruined that gown your father bought for you.”

  “With money from my business idea,” Kaetha muttered under her breath.

  “Kaetha.” There was a warning note to Nannie’s voice even though a smile twitched at her lips.

  Their conversation was interrupted by a large group of people walking down the beach and through the crowds, moving in slow unison like a flock of soaring birds. Men and women, all with long dark hair, bare arms tattooed blue with shapes and symbols, their faces and flowing woven garments lit by the blazing fires and low golden sun, they looked to Kaetha more like divine beings than real people.

  “The Onuists,” said Mairi, glancing nervously at the Macomrags.

  Kaetha still felt giddy from the whisky as a woman with piercing green eyes drifted up to her, her hands overflowing with yellow touch-heal-wort flowers, bird’s-foot trefoil and rue with clusters of purple vervain and red rosebuds. As the woman raised her hands, the flowers tumbled into a garland which she set upon Kaetha’s head.

  Kaetha overheard Nannie telling Cailean that the flowers’ medicinal and magical properties were said to be strongest at midsummer, bringing luck to the wearers. The Onuist woman deftly wove more flowers with twine. She smiled warmly as Elspet spun around, holding the garland in place on her head.

  “An old Edonian tradition,” said Nannie. “The young women are honoured with the gift of summer’s prized colours.”

  Then a piper started to play a dance, swiftly accompanied by fiddlers, harpists and drummers. Kaetha wondered again where Donnan could be, what he could be doing that was more important than celebrating with them.

  “You dancing, Kaetha?” said Rorie, offering her his hand.

  She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she placed her hand in his. Elspet grabbed Rorie’s other hand and, in moments, a long chain had formed with everyone looking to Kaetha at the head of it. She got ready to lead, then halted as she saw her father join the line holding Mairi’s hand.

  “What are you waiting for?” said Rorie.

  She smiled at him. “The right moment.” She stood still as a post before launching forth followed by a swell of laughter and squeals of surprise amongst the dancers. The chain of people followed her, skipping and kicking to the music as she wound through the clapping crowd, circled the fires, threaded back through the line itself and even drew them, splashing in and out of the lapping waves.

  She didn’t hear the angry voices at first but when she did, she stopped laughing. A scuffle was breaking out on the beach beside one of the fires. Murdo Macomrag glared at one of the tattooed men from Clan Onuist. They stood poised like wolves about to tear one another apart. Murdo shoved him and he staggered backwards before lunging back at Murdo, fists raised, but others held him back. Those gathered around Murdo looked ready to fight, waiting for Murdo’s cue.

  “You were given a chance, Cerr Onuist,” yelled Murdo. “Your clan were ordered to put a stop to such practices. And what do you do?”

&nb
sp; Her line of dancers were headed too close to them, most people oblivious to the impending violence. However, before she could lead them away from the potential fray, she felt the fabric at her shoulder seized and she was torn away from Rorie.

  Murdo swung her around to face him. She shrieked at the shock of pain as he ripped off her flower garland, taking a clump of her hair with it.

  “You spread your corruption, Onuist,” Murdo continued, spitting as he spoke, “allowing our people to despoil their souls in the rituals of Edonian witches like your grandmother.” He tossed the garland, entangled with hair, into the flames.

  The music died to a halt along with the dancing.

  “You will not speak of her.” Cerr Onuist almost broke free from the hold of four burly men, managing to edge closer to Murdo. “She was a good woman.”

  “She was a witch. And these charms, seeking magic from plants—”

  “It is harmless—”

  “It is witchcraft. Burn them!” he boomed. “Burn them all!” And his men obeyed, snatching the flowers from the heads of women and lasses and tossing them into the fires. “As true servants of King Svelrik, neither I nor my father will suffer witches in this clanland.” He threw Kaetha to the ground, her hands and knees smacking onto the pebbles.

  Screams of alarm rose up around her and then she saw the flames leap up from the edge of her cloak. Her mother’s cloak. Panic swelled in her chest as she fumbled to undo the clasp but either her fingers became clumsy in her panic or the clasp was stuck. Then Aedan was there, pushing her to the ground again, rolling her and patting out the flames.

  “Are you alright?” he said when the fire was out.

  One edge of her precious cloak was blackened and jagged where it had been eaten away by fire. This was no accident. Was Murdo punishing her for embarrassing him all those months ago? Did he suspect she had magic and was trying to provoke her into exposing her gift? Her fury flared.

  She glared at Murdo’s smug face. “You damned arsewit!”

  She wanted to burn him as he’d burned her. Straining against the urge of her magic, knowing that proving herself to be a witch would mean his victory over her, she, instead, leapt from her father’s arms and snatched up a branch from the fire. Flames danced at its end. With a swooping motion, she hit Murdo’s wrist and his dagger dropped to the ground. Then she abandoned her flaming brand and hurled herself at him with a scream of rage, knocking him to the ground. He pushed her away and she came back at him only to be stopped and dragged away by Dermid and Rorie.