by Hazel Hunter
The sun freed me. Mayhap I’m part famhair.
Murdina was amused by the ridiculous thought. Hendry and their caraidean believed her unaware of the true depth and breadth of her madness, when in fact it had been her constant companion since girlhood. Over these last weeks she’d learned that her particular lunacy could be comforting, even beautiful. Unbound by the restraints of reason, she could think and speak and act as her battered heart willed—as long as she still possessed some choice in the matter.
When that last dignity began to slip through her grasp, perhaps she would save Hendry the trouble and drown herself in the loch. That begged another question: as an immortal she could burn, but could she still drown?
Movement in the dead brush near her made Murdina go still. She peered through the shadows and saw broad shoulders and a head of mortal hair. Interested now, she watched him hurry out into the clearing, where the rising sun briefly illuminated his human features. He glanced around him before he dove into the ground and vanished.
Why does Ochd sneak away from the settlement?
Murdina knew she should go and wake Hendry, for the giant had no reason or orders to go off on his own. The more her lover altered Ochd’s body and mind, the more like a human male he behaved. He no longer needed as much sun or rest as the other famhairean. Since the fire at the mill Ochd had also been pestering Hendry with his repeated requests to hunt down that dark wench, the one with the special talent.
Murdina smiled, smug that she had worked it out on her own. While the others slept Ochd must have been going off to search for Rowan. The ache of being parted from her surely drove him to it. Before becoming Hendry’s lover Murdina had secretly followed her beloved everywhere. Even in her younger years being near him had quieted the voices from within that had never ceased taunting her. He’d made her feel the only hope of happiness she’d ever known.
That Ochd might be equally enchanted by the wench only proved that their plan would work beautifully—as long as Hendry felt he had the altered famhair under his control. She knew how important it was for her lover to believe he held sway over them all.
I shall fetch back the lad, and no one shall be the wiser.
Silently Murdina retrieved her boots from the cottage, and then went into the woods where the clumsy Tri had been sent to guard nothing at all. She’d always felt kinship with the mind-damaged giant, now in his third or fourth body after his perpetual blunders had destroyed all his previous forms. What none of the other caraidean seemed to realize was that with a little patience and proper diversion Tri could be made quite useful.
“’Tis morning, Tri,” she called to him as she reached up to touch his stiff face.
On either side of the split in his face his eyes opened, and his mouth stretched into a jagged caricature of a grin. “Lady.”
“We shall play a game. Dinnae speak until I give you leave.” She took him by the hand like a bairn, and led him out to the furrow in the soil where Ochd had disappeared. “Can you follow this path underground to where it leads? And take me with you?”
He nodded, hoisted her into his arms, and pressed her face against the ragged tunic he wore. The strong resinous smell of him came through the wool and almost choked Murdina, but she kept her nose and mouth against the fabric as he jumped into the ground.
Frozen soil and cold stone exploded around them as Tri burrowed through the earth. The heat of his body intensified as he did, and soon a heavy layer of mud coated them both. Keeping her eyes closed and holding her breath, Murdina suddenly thought of Hendry waking alone in their cottage. How frantic he would be once he discovered her gone. She would have to be quick with collecting Ochd and bringing him back with Tri. Perhaps in the process she would learn something that could please her lover, such as where the Skaraven had been keeping the troublesome wenches.
Just as Murdina began to feel dizzy from lack of air, Tri surfaced and placed her on her feet. She wiped the accumulated muck from her face and saw they stood a short distance from another furrow. Tri clumsily tried to rub off the mud clinging to her, and at the same time gave her a pleading look.
“You may whisper,” Murdina told him.
“Ochd go there.” He pointed past the other furrow to the outer wall of a stronghold. “We go, play game?”
“Soon, my friend. You stay here and watch for Ochd. Dinnae return to the settlement without me.” Murdina waited for him to nod before she made her way toward the edge of the trees.
The castle beyond the outer wall looked very large and well-built. Many large mortal men with swords stood guard at the entries, and more patrolled in pairs outside the walls. Murdina heard approaching horses, and turned her head to see two clansmen on horseback escorting a dark-robed druid riding a much smaller pony. When he pulled back his hood to reveal his old, tired face she saw he had piercing dark eyes.
“Fair morning, Master Flen,” one of the sentries called as he walked out from the gatehouse. “The laird shall be pleased to see you.”
“I doubt that, lad,” Bhaltair said as he slowly dismounted. “Naught ’tis more annoying than being dragged from bed by an untimely visitor.”
Murdina shook with the rage that promptly swelled up inside her. The hateful old fool who had ruined her existence now stood making jests, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d stolen her freedom, imprisoned her in frozen darkness, and left her to rot beside Hendry. Her lips peeled back with a snarl as she remembered how it had been for them, to be so close and yet unable to touch each other.
For that and all they had suffered, Murdina would tear out Bhaltair Flen’s throat with her teeth.
She summoned all her magic as she ran for the old druid, her boots gouging out chunks of muddy snow from the ground. In another moment she would be on him, and her protective body wards would keep the mortals at bay while she did her work. She’d take one of their swords and chop off Flen’s head as a trophy for Hendry–
Hard hands snatched Murdina by the waist, one clamping over her mouth and nose as Ochd dragged her back behind a wide tree trunk. There he held her struggling body back against him until lack of air made her vision dim.
Ochd leaned out far enough to look at the stronghold before he eased his grip enough for her to heave in a breath. “You shouldnae have come here, Mistress.”
Murdina opened her mouth to order him to release her, and heard a bone crack as scorching agony lanced through her jaw and cheek. The moment she cried out Ochd covered her mouth again and tucked her under his arm. He carried her deeper into the trees, stopping when he saw Tri waiting by the furrows.
“You brought her here?” Ochd demanded.
“Aye. Murdina, me play game,” the damaged giant said. “Find you.”
“So you have. Take her back to the settlement, and bring her to Hendry,” Ochd said, ignoring her renewed struggles. “She has hurt her jaw and needs tending.”
Tri cocked his scarred head. “Finish game. You chase.”
Murdina groaned against Ochd’s hand as the other giant dove into the furrow and tunneled out of the forest. His split face popped out of the ground a short distance from a patrol, who drew their swords and bellowed to the other guards.
Tri’s grin faded as he saw the clansmen running toward him, and he dropped back into the furrow. Emerging beside Ochd and Murdina, he said, “Mortals no’ play.”
“Follow us,” Ochd told him, and then turned Murdina to face him. “I didnae intend to hurt you, my lady.”
She spat in his face, sending a new jolt of agony through her jaw. A moment later the world went dark and hard and cold as the famhair took her down into the earth.
Murdina came in and out of awareness as her body became slick with muck. Holding her breath made her dizzy, and her broken jaw grew hard and heavy. By the time Ochd surfaced she heard a wretched mewling sound, and realized it came from her own throat.
Fierce hands wrenched her away from the famhair, and then Hendry’s face appeared above hers.
“S
weetness mine,” he murmured, cradling her against his chest as he kissed her brow. “What happened to you? Who hurt you?”
Murdina tried to tell him, but the muffled, ugly sounds grating from her lips wouldn’t form the words. She rolled her eyes toward Ochd and Tri, who hovered on her other side.
“I didnae take Murdina from you, Hendry,” Ochd said quickly. “I went to the midlands alone. Your lady and Tri followed me.”
“No, we play game,” Tri said, looking confused. “Wood Dream say chase Ochd. Then Ochd break lady’s face.”
“I meant only to keep her quiet, to protect her from the mortals near us,” the other giant protested. “I reckoned her body shield would protect her–”
“No’ against your altered form,” Hendry said. “Aon.” When the leader of the famhairean appeared, Hendry lifted Murdina into his arms. “Take her to the cottage and give her some poppy juice. Send the others to draw water from the loch for heating. I’ll have to bathe her after I bind her jaw.”
Murdina saw the look in Hendry’s eyes, and shook her head, groaning as more pain stabbed through her face. If he gave into his fury he might turn their caraidean against them, and that would put an end to all their plans.
“Never worry, beloved mine,” her lover told her, and gestured for the giant to take her away.
She looked past Aon’s arm, and saw the air around Hendry begin to shimmer. The other famhairean also noticed and knew what it meant, for they began moving away from the druid and the two giants.
“You made me thus,” Ochd said, reaching out to her lover. “You ken that I would never harm the Wood Dream.”
“Yet you did. As they did. As the world did. She’s the mind of a bairn and you hurt her.” Hendry lifted his hands, which took on an amber-red glow. “I willnae have it.”
The power that poured from his palms rammed into Ochd and Tri, whose bodies exploded like lightning-struck trees. Smoldering splinters of their forms rained down all around Hendry, who watched the two famhairean’s spirits rise from the scorched marks the blast had left on the barren ground.
As Aon carried Murdina into the cottage, she realized at last that she was not alone in her madness.
Chapter Ten
THE SHOCK OF learning they’d traveled even further back in time at first made Emeline sit down on one of the stone benches and retreat into silence. How could she manage in a time two thousand years before her own? She knew almost nothing about the era or the people. Her country hadn’t even been named Scotland yet. In school she’d been more interested in the sciences and had paid very little attention to her classes in ancient history. All she could remember about this century was that the Roman Empire ruled the world, Pompeii had blown up, and Christianity had begun.
They might as well have landed on Mars.
She heard water splashing, and watched Ruadri wash his hands before he dampened one of the rough cloths and brought it to her.
“Permit me?” he asked, and when she nodded he slipped the cool, wet cloth under her hair, and pressed it against her nape.
Emeline felt immediate relief from the heat and sweat that had collected under the heavy mass of her hair.
“’Twill be cooler when the sun sets,” the shaman told her.
He didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that they’d gone so far back in time. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“You’re healed,” Ruadri said. “’Tis enough for me.”
She grimaced, a bit chagrined by the reminder. The shaman rose and moved to the center of the broch, where he knelt and murmured something. He had to be speaking an early form of Gaelic, judging by some of the word sounds. What he said could have been profanity, poetry or prayer, but it wouldn’t get them out of this mess.
If they really were in the first century, then they’d been completely removed from every hope of help they had. What if the tribe decided they were enemies? As an immortal Ruadri could probably survive anything, but a simple spear jab would finish her.
Rays of sunlight slowly wandered from one side of the dirt floor to the other as Emeline considered and discarded every other possible explanation. Ruadri and his clan had once lived in this time, so he would recognize it. The tribesmen, the strange countryside, the brochs—everything supported his claim. But why would the portal carry them back another twelve centuries when the shaman had meant to send her to the future?
As the light faded Ruadri came to crouch before her again.
“Dinnae be fearful,” he said, his deep voice so soft it made her feel as if she were being caressed. “I reckon that the portal brought us to this time for some purpose. We’ve only to fathom it.”
That revelation made her stiffen. “The portals can do that? Act on their own? Move people to any point in time?”
“No’ by chance.” He moved to sit beside her. “I ken ’tis troubling, but ’tis done by the hand of the Gods. We mustnae doubt their purpose.”
Emeline looked down at her hand, which he’d taken in his. No wonder he was so calm. His faith poured through her like a sparkling fountain of liquid crystal. Ruadri believed everything he said. A long time ago she’d felt the same trust in the God her parents had worshipped. What she’d seen as a nurse had worn away most of her faith, but she’d still tried to follow the teachings of the church, and live a good, decent life, until she’d come here.
Panic jolted through her. “Am I the reason this happened? Did it send us back here because of what I did?”
“Never, lass. You did naught wrong.” He put his arm around her, tucking her against his side, and stroked the length of her hair. “The sacred grove wouldnae heal your affliction only to punish you for suffering it.”
That seemed logical. She also knew from experience that the portals contained enormous and mysterious powers. But could these time travel conduits also be intelligent, and capable of independent thought and actions?
“If we were sent here for a purpose,” she said slowly, reaching to scratch her itching side, “then why don’t we know what it is?”
“I dinnae ken, but ’twill be made clear.” He shifted to look at her side. “What plagues you? No’ the spear wound, surely.”
She pulled up the hem of her tunic to see the now-unnecessary sutures sticking out of her smooth flesh. “It’s gone, but it seems that your Gods left in the stitches. May I borrow your dagger?”
“Will you allow me to remove them?”
When she nodded Ruadri eased her down on her side, and then drew the blade from his boot. He honed the edge on the side of the stone bench before he began neatly slicing through the knotted loops. One by one he quickly tugged out the bits of thread, until all that remained were two rows of tiny punctures.
She couldn’t have done such a neat job of it, Emeline thought, and wondered why she had ever doubted his proficiency as a healer. He’d been so gentle she’d barely felt his fingers, and yet the heat of longing raced up her throat and into her face. What would it feel like to have those strong, skillful hands touch her everywhere?
Now is not the time to daydream about getting up to no good with the shaman.
“Thank you,” Emeline said, bracing her hands as she started to sit up.
“Be still yet, lass” Ruadri told her as he opened a pouch and removed a corked stone vial. From it he dribbled some drops of thick golden liquid and smeared them over the little wounds.
The scent told her what it was. “Does the honey keep it from infecting?”
“Aye.” He replaced the vial’s cork. “And ’tis more pleasing to a lady’s nose than my yarrow salve. Why do you call yourself fat?”
The unexpected question startled a laugh out of her. “I am. Just look at me.”
Ruadri frowned. “I cannae see it.”
Emeline glanced down to point out the obvious curve of her belly, but saw that it had vanished. Along with a flat abdomen, she had a new, narrower waist. She could even see the faint outlines of her lower ribs.
“I didn’t realize I
’d lost so much weight.” That sounded ridiculous, so she added, “They didn’t give us enough food, and even when they did I couldn’t eat much with my bruised jaw. They never let us bathe. I suppose I was so busy looking after the others I didn’t notice it.”
“Even starved you’re fetching, lass.” He tugged down her tunic and helped her stand. “But you mustnae call yourself such names.”
“I suppose you’d rather have me fat?” She cringed at the unconscious innuendo. “I didn’t mean that.”
Ruadri settled his hands on her waist, and the amber torrents of his desire wrapped around her. “I’d have you whatever your shape. You’ve a lovely body, Emeline, but ’tis no’ what pulls me to you. Your spirit calls to mine. The moon marked you for me.”
Was he going to kiss her again? He wanted to. So much so that she could already feel the tingle of it on her own lips.
“Why did you call me your bhean?”
The door covering rustled as Drest walked in and eyed them. “Your pardon, Shaman. The tribe gathers now for the meal.”
Ruadri didn’t release her as he nodded to the tribesman, who just as quickly withdrew. “I shall explain later. Only ken that Ara willnae speak directly to you before his tribe,” he said, keeping his voice low. “None of the men shall, but ’tis no’ an insult. Pritani consider it unmannerly to offer more than a greeting to a female no’ of the tribe.”
Emeline’s sensual daze vaporized. “So, I should keep quiet.”
“They think us dru-wids, and ken them to be quiet folk. ’Tis expected you will speak only to me and do as I shall.” He removed his tartan and wrapped it around her. “But should Ara’s ladies ask of our journey, say naught of the time travel.”