His old friend stepped through the door with a smirk. “Am I not the one you’ve been waiting for?” he asked, lifting his brows.
“Not exactly, Uncle Logan,” Jamie said. “But we’re pleased to see you. We could use your help if you’re not overtired from your journey.”
“I’m always available to help. What has happened now? I can tell from the look of you, ’tis more than this battle on Midsummer’s Day that has everyone in Scotland unsettled.”
Logan held the door open and ushered his sister inside, Sorcha behind them. “You all remember my sister, Avelina, and my daughter Sorcha, do you not? Cailean’s settling the horses.” A man Alex didn’t recognize came in behind Logan. He was dressed like a priest. Guards piled in behind him, seeing to their small bags and outerwear while Connor stepped in to explain the situation with the lost couple.
“Chrissa and one of our warriors, Drostan, are missing,” he said. “Kidnapped off their horses. Robert the Bruce sent them on a mission with Dyna and Derric. They were on their way to Berwick.”
Kyla, ashen-faced, greeted Avelina and Sorcha, then went to the kitchens to arrange for food for the travelers.
“Suspects?” Logan asked, seemingly unfazed by the news.
“Other than the English? None, at the moment.”
“And what are you doing about it?”
“We have sent patrols out over half the Highlands,” Jamie said. “But we’ve found no sign of them yet.”
“No ransom demands? Edward is a greedy bastard, you know.”
“Naught,” Alex said. “It makes the waiting difficult. But I wish to hear more about you. I was expecting you, Ramsay. How was your journey?” He found himself smiling, because Maddie had been right, again. Aye, Torrian had told them about Logan, too, but Maddie had brought the news to him first.
Logan ushered his group inside and got Avelina settled near the hearth as the others exchanged greetings and well wishes. One older man, a stranger, waited by the door.
“Here now, Father,” Logan said to him. “Come inside and warm your bones. This is Father Dowall, a friend of Father Rab’s. We stopped at his kirk along the way, and he asked to ride with us.”
“Welcome, Father. Come sit by the fire and we’ll find a trencher of stew for you,” Connor said. The man nodded and removed his mantle, leaving it by the door.
Logan turned when the door opened again. “And you all remember Sorcha’s husband, MacAdam, do you not? You may not recognize him with all the gray in his hair, but he’s the one just coming inside.”
“I remember him as Cailean,” Alex said with a grin. He’d missed Logan’s antics. “At least, ’tis what the rest of us call him. Have you not accepted him as your son-in-law yet? I think the man’s done more than enough to earn your respect, Ramsay.”
Logan screwed up his face. “You have my respect, do you not, MacAdam?”
Cailean looked as if he would have preferred to run in the opposite direction. “Aye, I suppose so.” He glanced from father to daughter to see if either one was going to argue with him. Neither did.
“What can I do to help?” Logan asked once they’d exchanged hugs. “I assume I must have missed the others from my clan? My daughters and Torrian have moved on?”
Connor said, “Aye, they’ve gone home to prepare for the journey to Stirling.”
“Tell us what you learned along the way,” Alex said. “Many English out there yet?”
Dyna added, “We learned that Edward is sending his troops to Edinburgh a sennight before the battle is to take place. Twenty thousand is the number I heard.”
Logan snorted. “Edward thinks he’ll get that many, but he won’t. He forgets more and more Scots have come forward to support our rightful king. He may get ten thousand, but twice that is naught but a dream. Don’t believe all the rumors. And every Scot can take on three Englishman, so he can have fifteen thousand and our five thousand will still beat them. But I’m starving. Can we eat and strategize afterward?”
Once food was brought out and everyone got settled, Alex made his way into the solar and motioned for Logan to follow him.
“You’re an old man, Grant,” Logan said, taking a seat across from the one Alex took behind the desk.
“’Tis true, but only a couple of years older than you, old man.”
The two chuckled, Alex giving Logan the chance to get comfortable. Then he posed his question. “Why are you really here, Ramsay? I’ve a feeling you brought something with you. A cherished piece of Scottish history.” The smiles were gone from both of their faces. The two men had been in charge of running two of the most important clans in all of Scotland. Though Logan had never served as chieftain, everyone knew he’d had a major impact on the decisions made in the clan, especially since he and his wife had been spies for the Scottish Crown.
Logan leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his long wavy hair, half light brown, half white. “Your intuition is still good, Grant. I brought Avelina here. She was instructed by the Queen of the Fae to bring the sapphire sword to you.”
“You’ve seen this fae?”
“Aye, she appeared in front of me this time. Surrounded by butterflies, but she only stayed for a few moments. She disappeared after giving Lina her instructions.” He planted his elbows on his knees, leaning forward this time. “I know how it sounds, Grant, but I saw it with my own eyes.”
“If they’re anything like my old eyes, you’re lucky you can see anything at all.”
Logan snorted and said, “True. I couldn’t make her face out clearly, but I’d have to be totally blind to miss the mass of butterflies that surrounded her one moment and disappeared the next. And her voice was as clear as a hooting owl in the quiet of dawn.”
“Mayhap you blinked?” Alex suggested, a smirk on his face.
“You always were a wise arse.” Humor creased his face but faded quickly. “It actually gave me a little faith in the hereafter. There’s more to this existence than we know.”
“Say I believe you. What were her exact instructions?”
“Lina was told to bring the sapphire sword to you. You’re the one who must decide who is to receive it next.”
“And how am I to know?” Alex flashed to what Maddie had told him in the vision. She’d told him the choice was his alone. This was the kind of decision he hadn’t made since he was laird of the clan—it had the ability to save or ruin lives.
Logan shrugged his shoulders. “She said you just would.”
Alex looked across the desk at his old friend, still fine looking and fitter than he had any right to be at his age. Nothing had slowed him down other than a few fists in his younger years. His mind was as keen as ever, and he pitied the man foolish enough to underestimate Logan Ramsay, at any age.
“Such is my challenge.”
A knock sounded at the door, so Alex bid the person to enter. Avelina peeked around the corner. “I think I belong in this meeting, do I not, Logan?”
He pursed his lips and nodded, waving her inside. Once the door closed behind her, he said, “The Queen of the Fae apparently only trusts you, Lina.”
His sister’s eyes twinkled. “You’re upset that a woman has control of something you don’t, are you not?”
Alex chuckled. “The queen chose a strong-minded, intelligent Ramsay. The only way she could have chosen better is if she’d given the sword to a Grant.”
Logan cast him a glare, accompanied by a harrumph that could likely be heard in the hall. “It clearly belonged with a Ramsay, and I’ll admit she did a fine job. She held on to it without any fuss, and we’ve had many years of peace. Still, it could have been me.”
“Logan, you’ve always ridden your horse around Scotland with a target firmly square on your back. I don’t think you would qualify for what they needed.”
Another glare, although there was an edge of humor to it. Shaking her head slightly, Avelina pulled a package swathed in a plaid out of her bag. She carefully unwrapped it and presented it to
Alex, handing it to him across the desk. “Erena, Queen of the Fae, said you will know who to give it to.”
They all stared at the small sword, which was a thing of beauty with its inset gemstones and the strange sheen that could be seen in any lighting. It looked as if it belonged in a case somewhere.
“’Tis not the least bit dull after all the years,” Alex remarked.
“Nay, it looks the same to me,” Lina said, leaning over to run her hand down the hilt. “I expect its power to vanquish evil remains unchanged too.”
“Can it be used against a king?” Alex asked.
“I would say if it’s a king with a truly evil heart, then aye. ’Tis Scottish, so the meaning of it is to save the people of its land from whatever evil befalls us.”
“Have you any advice as the previous guardian of the sword?”
“There must be someone in your clan who is special. I think I was chosen for my restraint. I suspect it should go to someone in the younger generation, under four decades. Someone you would trust to guard it well and use it for the good of the people of Scotland.”
Alex said, “That thought is helpful. It eliminates all my bairns.”
“Aye, they’re too old.”
He held it out to look at it. “My mother would have loved to see this. She believed in it whole-heartedly, although I’m not sure my sire did. Did Erena offer any other advice?”
“Nay, not a word,” Logan blurted out.
Avelina shook her head slightly again, her lips tipping up at her brother’s hasty reply. “The person who finds it must marry within two moons in order to keep it. Otherwise their family or clan will suffer.”
“So it must be someone unmarried.”
“Aye. I asked her if I was to tell you about the legend, and she said the one who is to receive the sword is too young to marry but has already chosen his or her mate. So the rule does not apply this time.”
Logan snapped his fingers. “How could I forget that?”
“I told you, you’re getting old,” Alex said. “And this is yet another reason Erena chose the right protector for the sword.” He fidgeted at the desk, thinking. “Too young to marry. Already chosen their mate.”
Logan grumbled a bit, but he ignored his friend, lost in thought. The answer came to him in a flash, so obvious he wondered why it had taken him so long.
Because you’re getting old too, a voice supplied.
No matter. He knew who the new guardian of the sapphire sword would be.
***
Drostan went over everything in his mind one last time. He and Chrissa had been kidnapped. The Grants and Ramsays were meeting somewhere before they traveled to Stirling Castle, but he had no idea where it would be. Even if he did, he’d never tell. The sheriffs’ scheming could mean death for hundreds in his clan.
But then he thought of Chrissa. If they tortured her in front of him while he was bound with no weapons, he’d lose his mind. He had to come up with a plan.
It was easy enough. He could lie. Just make up some place between Ramsay and Grant land where they could meet. They’d have no way of knowing if he was right or wrong. Lie and be let go.
Would they let him go?
Nay, fool. They’ll never let either of you leave with your lives.
But he had to believe patrols were out searching for them. The sheriffs had said nothing about Dyna or Derric, so they had to be free. They knew exactly where Chrissa and Drostan had gone missing, and after searching the area, they must have gone back to Grant Castle. The Grants wouldn’t rest until they were found.
That gave him his second strategy. Be patient. Waste time because the Grants would come for them. Chrissa had a family who adored her. Her mother would be sick with worry and her father would overturn every rock in the Highlands to find her.
Not that he expected the same effort from his father. In all likelihood, he was so deep in his cups he hadn’t even processed that Drostan had been taken prisoner. Still, Drostan was with Chrissa, and he was a Grant warrior. They were both worth saving.
If they waited too long, though, the sheriffs might hurt them. They might even kill one of them. Could Drostan escape and free both of them? Wouldn’t that be the best way?
He paced and paced, but nothing better came to mind. He’d save Chrissa.
Somehow.
Chapter Sixteen
Astra and Hendrie followed the tracks into the heavy brush down the side of the ravine.
“Astra, I don’t like this.”
“I know you don’t. Stop being a wee bairn. I saw Chrissa’s hair tie, her favorite one. It must have come off after they took her away. You know what that means, do you not?”
“That her hair is untied?” Hendrie asked, reaching into the pocket sewn in the front of his warm tunic to feel for Sky. He and Astra had worked hard on it so the dear pup would be able to join them. With that and the other preparations required for their journey, it had been impossible to leave as quickly as they’d hoped. So they’d decided to leave the next morning instead. Then they’d packed their clothes, asked Dyna exactly how to get to the spot where the two had last been seen, then snuck out to the stables the next morning before dawn. Hendrie had told her Dyna would figure out what they intended, but Astra knew that Dyna never took her seriously. She was so much younger Dyna still saw her as her wee sister.
“That’s the best thought you came up with? Her hair is untied?” Astra rolled her eyes, thinking this was going to be a difficult journey if Hendrie persisted in being so literal. He lacked the ability to read situations, something her sire said she could do too well for one her age. Another skill she possessed, luckily for them, was an uncommonly good sense of direction. She could picture an area as clearly as if she were looking down at it from the clouds. Her father had already had her draw various maps for him. She’d actually started working on a map of all the Highlands, but she hadn’t traveled far enough yet to fill it in much.
Her goal was to travel through all of Scotland and make a complete map for her clan. One they would use forever. When she’d given her last map to Grandsire, he’d frowned, staring at the fine details she’d made for bridges and ravines, making her own symbols for meadows and glens. She’d even indicated where the best caves were located.
Grandsire had stared at it for a long time and said, “Why, Astra, this is the finest map I’ve ever seen, lass. You have an unusual talent.” Grandsire didn’t hand out compliments lightly. Her mother had patted her shoulder, another rare demonstration, and she’d puffed up with pride in her special skill.
She brought herself back to Hendrie’s facile answer. “Nay, it means she was fighting her captors. We’ll have to look for more clues, like pieces of torn clothing, or… Wait! There! Do you not see it?” She tugged on the reins of her horse and led him over to a tree that had something hanging from it. Hendrie beat her to it and pulled the piece of fabric from the branch, peering at it closely.
“’Tis definitely a piece of a Grant plaid, but it could be anyone’s.” Just then, Sky stuck her head out of his pocket, sniffed the fabric, and yipped excitedly. Hendrie and Astra exchanged a look, and he said, “And there’s a fork in the path ahead. Which way should we go?”
“Let’s see if you were right about her abilities as a hound,” Astra said, a wide smile on her face. They’d just gotten the help they needed. She dismounted, reaching up for Sky and the piece of fabric. He seemed dubious, but he handed them both down to her.
The fabric was about half the size of a man’s palm, but she hoped it was large enough. If the pup had picked up his master’s scent, she might be able to guide them to the prisoners.
She set the pup down on the ground, held the cloth in front of her face, and waited. Sky sniffed the plaid again, then barked up at Astra, her tail wagging so hard it must hurt.
Sky took off toward the two paths ahead. She started down one, sniffing along the way, but her tail didn’t wag. She went far enough that Astra began to worry. If that was the right way,
the scent couldn’t be strong. She whistled for the dog, who ran back right away, then gave her the fabric again. She promptly rolled on it, tail wagging furiously again, and yipped two times.
“Find him, Sky. You know where he is.” She pointed the dog toward the other path and waited as she padded over to it, nose to the ground. Nothing unusual happened until she sniffed in one area, her tail wagging furiously again.
Hendrie, who’d dismounted and now stood beside her, gawked at the pup. “I told you she would pick up Drostan’s scent. Good lassie!”
Sky took off down the path at a frantic pace, following the scent, her tail wagging. Stopping once, she turned around and barked at them as if to say, “Come on!”
“You heard her,” Astra said, “Mount up. We have a dog’s nose to follow.”
“Are they that good?” Hendrie asked.
“She’s a wolfhound. Of course she’s that good. Now pick her up, grab the fabric, and we’ll set her down when we get to the next fork in the path.”
***
The Grant solar was practically overflowing two days later. Everyone was eager for their voices to be heard. Midsummer’s Day was about a sennight away, and King Robert wanted all of the warriors and archers in place a few days before that in case the English resorted to trickery.
Clan Grant also had a larger problem. Astra and one of the young lads were both missing. Connor said he knew exactly what she was doing, that she’d gone after her cousin, and Dyna had agreed.
“Aye, she’d asked me exactly where Chrissa had gone missing,” Dyna muttered.
“And you didn’t tell me or your mother?” her sire had asked, his hands on his hips and the glare in his gaze.
“But Astra always says things she’s going to do and then never does it.”
Alex had been listening to the conversation and had to take a stand. “She’s right, Connor. Astra talks much, but Dyna? Due to the seriousness of this, you should have mentioned it to someone.”
The Scot's Deception (Highland Swords Book 5) Page 12