Only With a Highlander

by Janet Chapman

  “I don’t know what makes you think Winter can find him if none of us have been able to,” Grace said angrily. “Even Mary hasn’t been able to discover anything. And that puny staff you made for Winter can’t even light a candle.”

  Winter scowled. What in hell were they talking about? Have her find who? And what staff? Had Daar made her a staff like his? Come to think of it, Winter realized she hadn’t seen Daar’s thick old staff for months now; he’d been using a wooden cane made from a maple sapling to get around. So why would he have made her a staff instead of one for himself?

  Curses, what was going on?

  “It will have plenty of energy in Winter’s hands,” Daar countered, glaring at Grace. “Once she gets her mind off that Gregor fellow and onto the business at hand.” He turned his glare on Grey. “Ye need to tell her now. We need Winter’s magic. The pine is dying.”

  They needed her magic?

  She didn’t have any magic. That was Robbie and Daar’s calling. Winter stepped away from the window and pressed her back to the cabin, frowning at the trees across the clearing.

  Her magic? Her staff? Tell her what now?

  She turned to the window again when she heard a chair slide back. Her papa had stood up. He walked over to Grace, took hold of her shoulders, and said, “He’s right, wife. We can’t wait any longer. We have to tell Winter today.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Grace’s head. “Putting it off is only compounding the problem,” he continued. Winter saw his hands tighten on her mama’s shoulders, and Grace looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “If ye want Winter to get on with her life,” Grey said, “then we have to tell her now, so she can help us find and destroy Cùram.”

  Winter sucked in her breath. Cùram? The wizard Robbie had stolen the tap root from? She was supposed to find him?

  And destroy him?

  Winter never did hear her mama’s response, what with her screaming when a pair of large hands suddenly caught her at the waist, spun her around, and tossed her over a broad, solid shoulder.

  “Oh-ho, didn’t yer mama tell ye it’s not nice to spy?” Robbie said with a laugh as he strode along the side of the cabin with her over his shoulder.

  Winter squirmed furiously, but when that only got her a smack on her bottom, she pinched Robbie’s back just above his belt. “Let me go,” she hissed, rearing up and smacking his shoulder. “I wasn’t spying. I was getting Daar some firewood.”

  All she got for an answer was a laugh, but she did have the satisfaction of hearing Robbie grunt when her flailing feet connected with his thigh. The final indignity came as Robbie was mounting the steps, when Winter caught sight of Gesader lying in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, lazily licking his paws.

  Robbie entered the cabin and set Winter down on her feet, grabbing her wrist as if expecting her to bolt. “Ye have varmints lurking in yer bushes,” he said to the startled occupants of the one-room cabin. “I warned ye, old man, not to toss yer scrap food out so close by.”

  “Winter!” Grace said with a gasp, rushing up to her. “What are you doing here?”

  Winter lifted her chin. “I’m trying to find out what’s been bugging you and Papa for the last two weeks.” She tugged her wrist free and turned her furious glare on her papa. “What is it you’ve finally decided to tell me? What’s going on? And what did you mean by my magic?”

  Winter became truly alarmed when her papa broke eye contact and looked at the floor, his face paling to ashen white. Never, ever, had Winter seen the powerful Laird Greylen MacKeage back down—certainly not from one of his daughters, and certainly not from a direct question.

  “Winter,” Grace whispered, taking her hand and leading her over to the table, urging her down in a chair. She pulled another chair up beside Winter, took hold of her hand again, and squeezed it as she darted a worried glance at her husband. “Th-there’s something your father and I need to tell you,” she said softly, looking at Winter and leaning closer. “Something we’ve been keeping from you all this time.”

  “W-what?” Winter whispered, feeling the blood drain from her own face as she looked into her mother’s turbulent eyes.

  The silence became absolute, until her papa suddenly pulled up a chair to sit beside her and took hold of her other hand. “Ye’re…the reason we…ye—” he began, only to pale again and look at Grace. Winter followed his gaze, looking at her mother in question.

  “Have you never wondered why Daar brought your father forward in time thirty-seven years ago?” Grace asked softly.

  “No,” Winter said. “Yes,” she quickly contradicted with a shake of her head. “Of course I’ve wondered. All us girls have.” She nodded toward the silent priest standing by the hearth. “But the only logical reason we could think of was that Daar had messed up another one of his spells.”

  Grace shook her head. “No, he didn’t make a mistake. Daar brought Greylen here on purpose.” She smiled crookedly. “The others, the MacBains and your MacKeage uncles, they were a mistake. It was only supposed to be Greylen who came forward.”

  “But why?”

  “To meet me,” Grace said softly, squeezing Winter’s hand again. “So we could have seven daughters together.”

  Winter blinked at her mama. Daar had brought a highland warrior eight hundred years through time just to make babies?

  Grey snorted. “Aye, it seems so,” he said, and Winter realized she’d spoken out loud.

  “I was supposed to be the seventh son of a seventh son,” Grace continued, drawing Winter’s attention again. Her crooked smile broadened. “But I was born a female, and it appears that it was my seventh daughter who was destined to be gifted.”

  “G-gifted?” Winter whispered.

  “Aye,” her papa said, scooting closer and lacing his fingers through hers. He took a deep breath and reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Ye have a very special gift, baby girl,” he said. “Ye were born with the knowledge of the universe in ye.”

  “I—I don’t have any knowledge,” she whispered, darting a worried look at her mother before locking her gaze back on her father. “If I did, I…wouldn’t I know it?”

  “Nay,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “It seems ye need to be made aware of yer gift first. Ye need to be taught the skills of a drùidh.”

  “Drùidh!” Winter yelped, untangling herself from her parents and standing up, sending her chair skittering across the floor. She pointed at the still-silent priest. “Like him? Are you saying I’m like Daar!”

  Both Grey and Grace immediately stood, but when Grey stepped toward her with his hand outstretched, Winter took a step back and gave a curt shake of her head. “No.” She took another step back. “I’m not a wizard. I can’t be a wizard! I would know if I was,” she cried, slapping her hand to her chest. “I would know!”

  “Ye don’t know because the magic is dormant until ye’re made aware of it,” Daar interjected, stepping away from the hearth.

  “Stay out of this, old man,” her papa growled.

  “Nay,” Daar countered. “She needs to know the truth.” He looked at Winter. “Ye wouldn’t realize ye have the magic in ye, lass, unless ye knew to look for it. Ye’ve always carried the energy, but ye must look deep inside yourself to find it. It doesn’t just come to ye, ye have to go in search of it.”

  “It was exactly the same for me, Winter,” Robbie said, stepping away from the closed door he’d been leaning against. He smiled warmly at her. “I was twenty-six years old before my papa explained my calling to me.”

  “But you were only eight when you saved Rose Dolan in the snowstorm when she was just a few months old,” Winter pointed out. “You were a guardian even then. You nearly died saving her.”

  “Aye,” Robbie agreed. “But I was only acting from instinct to save an infant. I had no idea what I was doing.”

  “But I don’t even have instinct!” Winter cried, backing away from everyone. “I have nothing!”

  “Ye have i
t all, Winter,” her papa said softly. “It’s been right there in yer paintings since ye first started drawing with crayons. The spirits ye hide in yer work, do ye not find it strange that ye see their energy as plain as ye see the real animals, yet others do not?”

  “But they’re only figments of my imagination,” she argued, looking from her papa to her mama, then to Robbie, her hands lifted beseechingly. “I drew them for whimsy.”

  “They’re not your imagination, Winter,” Daar said. “They’re as real as the flesh-and-blood animals ye draw. Ye paint what ye see, and ye see the full spectrum of energy.”

  “I don’t want to be a wizard,” she whispered, looking down at the floor, no longer able to face any of them. “I only want to paint.”

  “Then that’s all ye have to do,” her papa said gently. “Ye have the right to deny yer calling.”

  She looked up at her papa in surprise, her gaze then darting to her mother. Grace nodded. Winter looked at Robbie, and he also nodded and smiled. “Aye,” Robbie said. “Ye have the choice of accepting or denying yer gift.”

  “Did you have a choice?”

  “Aye. I could have renounced my calling when I learned about it.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I chose to honor my destiny, Winter, because despite the enormous responsibility that comes with being a guardian, there’s also the satisfaction of protecting my loved ones.” He crossed his arms again and gazed deeply into her eyes. “But being a guardian and being a drùidh are not the same. My decision to follow my calling should not influence yours. You must walk yer own path, Winter.”

  “I don’t want to turn out like Daar,” she whispered to no one in particular.

  “I beg yer pardon,” Daar said, straightening his shoulders and smoothing down the front of his cassock. “I served my calling well for nearly two millennia, and I’m damn proud of that fact.”

  Winter gave him an apologetic frown. “No offense, Father, but you bungle your spells more often than you succeed.”

  He picked a piece of lint off his sleeve. “Only in this last century,” he muttered, looking up with a scowl. “Before that, I was a powerful force to be reckoned with.” He stepped closer, holding his hands cupped together in front of him. “Ye can have that same power, lass. All ye have to do is decide ye want it, and ye can hold the knowledge of the universe in yer hands.”

  “To what end?” she asked. “So I can interfere in everyone’s lives? Uproot people from their natural time and send them hurtling into another century?” She suddenly gasped, shooting her gaze to her parents. “I’m going to live for centuries,” she whispered in horror. “I’m going to outlive everyone!”

  “Aye, there is that,” Daar said with a sigh, drawing her attention. “But ye get used to it,” he added with a negligent shrug. “Ye learn to adjust, because ye know ye’re serving the greater good.”

  “I’m going to turn into a cranky old goat just like you.”

  He grinned broadly. “Aye, that is one benefit. I can be just as cranky as I want, and no one can do much about it.”

  Winter stood frowning at Daar when another thought suddenly struck her. She looked at her papa. “What were you talking about earlier? Something about Cùram, and that I’m supposed to find him.” Winter felt the blood drain from her face as the realization set in. “I heard you saying you expect me to destroy Cùram. But Robbie told us he’s a powerful wizard. I can’t fight a wizard.”

  “It’s up to you, Winter,” her papa said. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel up to. And if you did choose to accept your gift, you wouldn’t be alone, baby girl. You’d have us guarding your back.”

  Winter blinked at him, then slowly looked at everyone else. “No offense, people, but a bumbling old drùidh, a warrior, a rocket scientist, and a guardian are not exactly a match for this Cùram guy, if he truly is that powerful. And I can’t even light a candle without using three or four matches.”

  Robbie chuckled. “We also have Mary,” he reminded her. “And Daar has made ye a staff of your own.”

  Daar rushed to the hearth and took down a thin, smooth, five-foot-long stick from the mantel. Winter decided her mama was right, it did look puny.

  The old priest walked over and held it out to her. “It’s made from a branch of my white pine,” he said, his voice laced with quiet reverence. “It’s weak yet, but it will grow strong as ye develop yer energy.”

  Winter tucked her hands behind her back. “I don’t want it,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want your magic.”

  Daar gave her a fierce scowl that should have fried her on the spot, then turned his scowl on her papa. “Make her take it, MacKeage. Tell her what happens if she doesn’t.”

  Winter looked at her papa in alarm. “What happens? What’s the big secret you’ve all been keeping for the last two weeks?”

  Her papa looked at the stick the old priest was still holding toward her and shook his head, his gaze locked on Daar. “It’s not really free will then, is it old man, if I tell her the fate of mankind rests on her shoulders,” Grey said, his voice sounding so defeated that Winter’s insides knotted in fear.

  “The fate of mankind?” she whispered, looking at her mother. “Mama, tell me what he’s talking about.”

  Grace walked up and put her arms around Winter, giving her a fierce hug. “Daar’s pine tree is dying,” she said into Winter’s hair. “And its death is going to cause a chain reaction that will eventually kill all the trees of life. And when they die, the world dies with them.”

  Winter pulled back only enough to look into her mother’s deeply troubled eyes. “Just because someone cut off the top of the pine?” she asked. “Killing just one of the trees of life will make the others die?” She looked past her mama’s shoulder to Robbie and frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Surely a tree of life isn’t that vulnerable. That means even an innocent logger cutting timber could destroy mankind.”

  “Nay, the trees aren’t that vulnerable,” Robbie said with a shake of his head. “A saw would dull at the first slide of its blade into the trunk of one. But Daar’s pine was dying before the top was cut. It had grown weak trying to balance the energies. Something has disturbed the continuum, Winter, and having its energy drained is what made the pine vulnerable.”

  “It was already dying before someone cut it?” she whispered, stepping out of her mama’s embrace and turning to Daar. “So the problem isn’t that someone cut your pine, but that…this Cùram wizard you’ve been talking about has upset the continuum.”

  “Aye,” her papa said before Daar could respond. “We believe Cùram is here, and that he’s come to destroy mankind.”

  “But why?”

  “We don’t know why,” Grace said. “That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out for the last two weeks.”

  “So did Cùram cut the top off the pine?” Winter asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so,” Daar said with a sigh, finally lowering his hands holding the tiny staff. “That’s another mystery we’ve been trying to solve. We don’t know who cut it, or what that someone did with the top. The storm that night wiped out any signs we might have been able to follow.”

  Winter stared in silence at the staff Daar was now leaning on like a cane, then looked at her papa. “S-so you want me to take up my calling to be a drùidh so I can find Cùram and stop him? And if I don’t, mankind will die?”

  Her papa said nothing, merely nodded. Winter looked at her mama, only to find tears welling in Grace’s eyes as she neither nodded nor shook her head. Winter then looked at Robbie, but finding his expression completely unreadable, she turned her attention to Daar.

  “If I do this…if I choose to honor the destiny you claim is mine, and destroy Cùram and save the pine, can I…can I then go back to being just me? Can I renounce my calling after?”

  “Nay,” Daar said, breaking eye contact to look at the floor. “Ye have the free will to choose, but once ye do,
there’s no turning back.” He looked at her. “If ye choose to take up yer power, ye can’t suddenly decide ye don’t want it anymore. Once knowledge is gained, ye can’t simply forget what ye’ve learned.”

  “So if I take that staff,” Winter whispered, looking at the frail piece of wood he was holding, “then I become a drùidh just like you?”

  Daar frowned. “It’s not that simple, girl. Ye can take this now,” he said, holding it out to her again, “and nothing much will happen, other than ye’ll get a feel for its energy. It’s not until ye make the commitment in yer heart that yer come into yer full power.”

  Very slowly, more scared than she’d ever been in her life, Winter reached out and took the small, pale white staff from him—as everyone in the room it seemed, including her, held their breath.

  The moment her fingertips touched the wood, a gentle, almost imperceptible trickle of energy moved through her, causing the fine hairs on her body to stir. The muted hum began as a whisper when her hand closed over the staff, then rose to a pulsing vibration that echoed each pounding beat of her heart. Colorful tendrils of light appeared, dancing through the one-room cabin, engulfing everyone in a strobe of sizzling, blinding energy.

  “Hold tight,” Daar called from a great distance. “Don’t be afraid, lass.’Tis only the magic welcoming ye. Embrace the knowledge, Winter, and feel its joy.”

  She could feel it: the energy filled her, charging even her hair with static, making her reel with weightless freedom. Time stopped. All five of her senses sharpened. She could even taste the powerful colors, individually distinct, swirling around the room in pulsing waves that seemed to begin and end with her.

  And then Winter felt something even more acute as she clutched the thin staff to her chest, something indescribable; a sort of sixth sense settled over her in a blanket of knowledge, so powerful that Winter thought she might explode with awareness.