by Bree Wolf
“D’ye know what it means?” Cormag asked, a frown drawing down his brows to match her own as he tried his best to help her make sense of the warning she had received. For it was a warning, of that Moira was certain.
Stopping at the window, Moira looked out at the vast land stretching out toward the far sea. “It marked a day, I believe.” She rested her hands on the rough stone and gazed out at the darkened world.
“What day? When?”
Moira shrugged. “I dunna know.”
“D’ye know why ‘tis important?” His voice sounded tentative as though he worried about pushing her too close to frustration. In truth, his simple questions helped direct her mind, focus it so she could hold on to the images that threatened to dance out of reach.
“’Tis the day, she’ll find a great love.” Cold shivers ran down her back as the words flew from her lips without thought. “Up by the ruins, near the cliff.” Shock froze her limbs, and she turned slowly inch by inch until she met her husband’s eyes. “What about Alastair?” she whispered into the dark, fear for her brother twisting her heart painfully.
Rising from the bed, Cormag crossed the room, his strong arms reaching for her, pulling her into the comfort of his embrace. “Was there anything in it that suggested that yer brother was in danger?”
Holding onto her husband, Moira shook her head. “Nay, nothing of the sort.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. “D’ye think it could mean that Deidre will lose her heart to another?”
The deep frown on Cormag’s face was a balm to her soul. “I canna imagine for it to be so,” he whispered, brushing a finger over the soft ridge of her left brow, trying to chase away the frown line that lingered. “I’ve rarely felt a deeper love than I did between yer brother and his wife. They were utterly besotted with one another even after years of marriage.”
Moira nodded, her heart beating a little easier. “Aye, I’ve always thought so as well. But then…,” her heart jerked to a halt, “does it mean that he will come to harm?”
For a moment, Cormag seemed to consider her words before he shook his head. “I dunna believe so,” he replied, “or do ye think that yer brother’s death would cost him his wife’s heart?”
“Nay,” Moira replied without hesitation. “She’s always loved him, and she always will.” A gust of air rushed from her lungs. “Then how can she find a new love?”
“’Twas a different kind of dream than the ones ye had before,” Cormag mumbled as his silvery gaze swept over her. “Have ye had such a dream before?”
Moira nodded. “Once or twice, I’ve had a dream that I felt rather than saw, not an image of a future event, but a sign pointing to something that remains unclear.” Frustrated, Moira shook her head as her lips pressed into a hard line. “‘Tis hard to interpret.” She sighed, “Rhona, my aunt, Connor’s mother, she has the gift as well, and she told me once that she thought our dreams were only meant to prepare us. Nothing more.”
“She doesna believe ye’re meant to change what ye see? Or help bring it about?”
“I’m not certain,” Moira mumbled as she rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers curling into his shirt. “Perhaps not all dreams are the same. I’ve come to realise that the dreams that are the hardest to read are the ones that pertain to myself.” She looked up at him. “I think ‘tis because my own heart is involved and I canna be objective.” A smile touched her lips, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “Perhaps ‘tis the same with yer gift.”
Understanding, Cormag nodded his head. “Ye mean I couldna feel ye because my own heart cared deeply about how ye felt, and I couldna distance myself from that.”
“Aye.” Moira heaved a deep sigh.
“What will ye do now?”
“I dunna know.” Her eyes ventured to the window once more, gazing toward the horizon where far away her brother lay in his own bed, Deidre by his side, in his arms. “I will write to her,” Moira whispered then before her gaze returned to Cormag. “I’ll write to her, and if anyone can understand, it’ll be Deidre. She’s often helped me make sense of what I’d seen. She’ll heed my words, and at the very least, she’ll be prepared for whatever is to come.” Closing her eyes, she exhaled a long breath. “There’s nothing else I can do.”
Without her vision, Moira only felt Cormag lean closer. She felt his hands settle on her waist and pull her toward him. Then his lips brushed over hers, a small comfort, a gentle reassurance that she was not alone, that he was here, beside her, holding her hand.
Moira smiled, returning his kiss, and her heart beat with more ease. “Go back to bed,” she whispered, brushing the pad of her thumb over his lips. “I’ll need some time.”
Cormag held her gaze for a moment before he nodded and then kissed her once more. A part of her did not want to let go, and her heart ached the moment his arms released her. Still, Moira knew that she would never find peace if she did not do all she could to warn Deidre.
As Cormag returned to their bed, Moira seated herself at the small desk in the corner by the window. It had become her favourite spot for it promised peace and solitude while at the same time offering her a view of the world, proof that she was not alone after all.
Moira’s eyes swept over the sleeping village, and a deep sigh left her lips before she turned her attention to the empty parchment before her.
Dearest Deidre,
This is not an easy letter to write for I fear I must warn you of something that lies ahead. I will do my best to share with you all that I know, but I’m afraid the images I saw were shrouded as though hidden in a heavy fog. You will have to trust your heart to guide you as do I, for I know that there is no better compass than the gentle soul that resides within you.
Once again, Moira willed her mind to travel back and reach for the images she had seen. The quill moved fluidly across the parchment as she attempted to describe the blue flower as best as she could as well as the meaning she believed it held.
Indeed, Moira had sensed a warning in her dream. There had been no fear though. Only sadness. Could that mean that no harm would come to any of them? Moira could only hope so as she paused for a long moment, torn about whether to urge Deidre to seek out the old ruins near the cliff on the day marked by the blue flower. What if seeking out that place would lead to disaster? What if not seeking it out would?
Burying her face in her hands, Moira knew not what to do. There was always a risk; however, it felt far greater when it was a risk to someone she loved. What if something happened to Deidre? Alastair would never forgive her for that. Nor would Moira herself.
And yet, she knew she had no choice for deep down she once again was beginning to believe that her gift would never intentionally lead her astray. It served to help and protect, to warn and prepare, and only human failure to see the truth in those dreams would lead to an unintended place.
When Moira finally rose from the chair, she found Cormag sleeping, one hand stretched out toward her side of the bed as though even in sleep he was reaching out for her.
Moira smiled, but knew that she could not join him. Her nerves were too rattled, and so she dressed quietly, knowing that the new day was not far away, and carried her letter downstairs to be sent out.
Then she slipped through the side entrance and stepped out into the night. The full moon cast a bright shimmer over the world, and Moira could see it glistening here and there as it touched the stream snaking its way through the land. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted now and then as she made her way out of the gate and down the small path. As she walked by her old home, Moira stopped, and her mind wandered back to a time that suddenly seemed long ago.
A smile touched Moira’s lips, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as the cool night air sent a shiver down her back. Then she paused, and a frown tugged on her brows.
Something was not as it ought to be, and she glanced over her shoulder as though expecting to see something out of place.
The castle and the village, ho
wever, continued to sleep peacefully, cast in the silvery light of the watchful moon.
Feeling the need to move, Moira continued to her destination, the small grove where she had often sought refuge. In the moonlight, the path was hard to see, and Moira walked slowly, careful to lift her feet over roots rising above the ground or dips left behind by moles as they expanded their underground residences.
The soft murmur of water drifted to her ears, and a moment later she found herself on the river’s bank, her small grove only a few paces behind her right shoulder. Peacefulness washed over her, and Moira sank down into the tall grass and pulled her shawl forward to cover her knees as she hugged them to her chest.
Moira did not know how long she sat there, enjoying a rare moment, a moment of solitude that did not rest heavily on her heart, but rather served to ease the strain her dream had placed on it. Slowly, fatigue began to tug on her, and her eyelids grew heavy.
Longing for her bed as well as her husband’s embrace, Moira pushed to her feet…and froze.
Her heart clenched in fear, and she realised in that moment that she was not alone.
Wheeling around, she gasped when her eyes fell on Ian, his face distorted into a grotesque mask of anger and resentment as he stormed toward her.
Terror gripped Moira, and she stumbled backwards toward the water’s edge. However, before she felt its cool waters seep through her shoes, Ian’s hands grasped her arms, yanking her toward him. “Ye betrayed us all,” he hissed, the snarl on his face seeming otherworldly in the silvery light of the moon. “I’ll make sure ye’ll never do so again.”
And then his hands once more closed around her throat, pressing inward, their grasp tightening.
In panic, Moira clawed at his arms, his chest, his face, but he could not be moved. He held on, and with each second that passed, her vision blurred and darkened more and more, her body screaming for air.
“Ye dunna deserve mercy,” Ian hissed as he brought her face close to his, his ice-cold gaze drilling into her, “and ye willna get it.” As he shook her, his right thumb moved, slid a little sideways, and suddenly, Moira felt her knees buckle as her vision darkened.
Blackness engulfed her, and then everything else went away.
37
To Sense Another
As the sun streamed into their chamber, Cormag woke only to realise that his wife was not beside him. Nonetheless, his arm moved over the mattress on her side as though he could still find her if only, he looked hard enough. Disappointment darkened his mood, and he wondered at the deep longing he felt in his chest. Never had he needed another’s presence as he now needed hers. A life without Moira had become unimaginable, and every fibre of his being urged him to go and find her.
To come home together.
To reunite them.
To be as one.
His gaze rose to look about the room only to find it empty as well before he pushed from the bed and quickly dressed. Then he headed downstairs, offering a few words here and there as the castle began to wake. However, no one had seen Moira, and so he stepped out into the early morning light, his eyes sweeping over the courtyard.
It was a bright and friendly day, but Cormag could not shake the feeling that something was utterly wrong. It reminded him of the night Moira had climbed the eastern tower as well as the night she had tried to leave Seann Dachaigh Tower, and a dark fear settled in his heart.
Was he simply seeing things that were not there? Or was this his gift, his connection to Moira? Was he feeling what she felt? Where on earth was she?
Striding across the courtyard, Cormag called out to everyone he saw, but no one had seen his wife. When he noticed Maggie, Emma and Claudia, he turned toward them, his pulse hammering frantically. “Have ye seen Moira?” he demanded, noticing the slight frowns that came to their faces at his harsh tone.
“Why? ‘Tis something the matter?” Maggie asked, her blue eyes narrowing.
Cormag shrugged. “I canna say,” he replied, knowing that there was no rational reason for him to think that something had happened. Still, he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. That Moira was in danger. “She rose early, and no one’s seen her since.”
“It might have been her then.”
At the sound of Claudia’s mumbled words, Cormag turned toward her, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. “Ye saw her?”
Claudia’s gaze cleared. “I’m not certain. Aiden woke in the middle of the night, and I was walking with him, trying to get him to settle down.” She glanced up at the window to her and Garrett’s chamber. “I came by the window, and I saw someone leave the castle. I couldn’t see who it was in the dim light.” She looked over to the gate before returning to look at him apologetically. “Whoever it was went down the path toward the village.” She shrugged, glancing at the other two women. “It might have been her.”
“Perhaps she went down to the stream,” Emma suggested before she moved to look at Maggie, who nodded in agreement.
“Thank ye,” Cormag mumbled before he hurried out the front gate, his feet moving as fast as he dared without drawing overmuch attention to himself. Perhaps she had ventured there to clear her thoughts. Perhaps she had even fallen asleep in the small grove where she liked to sit. Perhaps he would find her there, safe and sound.
Still, Cormag knew he did not believe he would. Something was wrong; he was certain of it.
Even from afar, he could see that the banks of the stream were deserted, and although he had expected as much, the stab through his heart was still crippling. He kept walking, not knowing where else to go, his eyes scanning the peaceful spot, wishing Moira would simply step out from behind a tree, a smile on her face as she flung herself into his arms.
But she did not.
Instead, Cormag’s breath lodged in his throat when his eyes dropped to the ground, taking note of the boot prints that led to the water’s edge. Here, the ground was soft, free of grass as the children loved to play in this spot, their little hands merciless when it came to the vegetation. From the way the prints were smudged, he suspected that there had been a struggle of some kind, resulting in feet being dragged rather than set down. There were two sets, one fainter than the other: Moira’s.
Cormag moved forward, following what he saw until he took note of a large imprint as though someone had lain there. His heart clenched as panic gripped him, and for a long moment, he could do nothing but stare at the spot where Moira had lain.
Had she been hurt? At least, that would mean she was alive, but what if…?
“Cormag!”
Spinning on his heel, Cormag found Garrett and Finn hastening toward him, no doubt alerted to Moira’s disappearance by their wives. “Has anyone seen her?” he asked knowing the answer would not satisfy him.
As expected, both men shook their heads, their faces taut as they stepped closer. Their eyes narrowed as they swept the ground the same way Cormag’s had only a moment earlier.
“There’s been a struggle,” Finn stated before his gaze rose to meet Cormag’s. “But ye already know that.” Again, he turned his eyes to the ground.
“She was dragged,” Garrett uttered, his voice distant as his mind worked, “but only up to here.” He walked along the water’s edge to where a thicket barred his way. “There’re broke twigs here.”
Cormag gritted his teeth as dark images found him, images that turned his blood to ice and twisted his heart in a way that threatened to rip it from his chest. “Who could’ve done this?” he whispered, fighting the image that drew near, unwilling to believe that it could be true.
“I dunno,” Garrett replied as he turned and walked back to where Cormag still stood. “I canna−” He broke off and looked past Cormag’s shoulder.
Turning around, Cormag spotted Maggie, her face pale and her eyes wide, hastening toward them, and in that moment, Cormag knew that what he did not want to believe could be nothing else but the truth.
“I canna find him!” Maggie panted, tears b
rimming in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Ian,” she mumbled, barely glancing at Garrett and Finn, who had hastened over, the tension in them speaking to the shock they felt. “I canna find him. He’s gone, and there are horses missing from the stables.” She swallowed, and her jaw trembled. “He wouldna…He…” Staring up at him, she shook her head, unable to believe what she knew to be true.
Cormag knew only too well how that felt.
Gritting his teeth, he forced the panic that threatened to consume him back down. If there was any chance for him to find her, to get her back, then he needed to calm down and think. “Where would he take her?” he mumbled, trying to be reasonable, to remember what places Ian favoured, what route he might have taken.
“There’s no way to know,” Finn muttered, his jaw tight and his eyes pained as he looked at Cormag. “How can we figure out where he took her when I canna even believe he would do such a thing?” He shook his head, shock marking his features. “Ian’s a good man. This,” he pointed at the scene of the struggle, “is not like him. He would never…He…”
Maggie closed her eyes, burying her face in her hands, and Cormag felt her guilt grab his heart and squeeze until he thought he could no longer breathe.
Stumbling, he took a few steps backward, trying to put some distance between himself and the rest of them as he fought for control.
“The night I returned,” Garrett spoke up as he came walking over to him, his green gaze fixed on Cormag’s, a hint of speculation in them, “ye were looking for her as well.”
Remembering the night Moira had almost slipped from his grasp, Cormag nodded. “Aye.”
“Did ye find her?”
Cormag nodded, confused why his friend would ask him this now.
Garrett’s gaze narrowed. “How?” he whispered as his hands settled on Cormag’s shoulders and his eyes looked deep into his. “Did ye stumble upon her by accident? Or…?” The question hung in the air between them for a moment or two, and then as though lightning had struck him, Cormag understood with perfect clarity what his friend was asking.