Silence fell over the room as both she and Nessie stared at each other. The stale air had vanished along with the wind, leaving only sweetness in its place.
“You did it,” Nessie said, her voice sounding stronger now. “Go . . . help the others.”
Mariam hesitated, fearful of leaving Nessie alone. Her efforts had seemed to help in the short term. The cleared air might help others not become ill, but what of those who already were? Finally, Mariam nodded. “I won’t be gone long.”
Mariam rushed out of the chamber, down the hallway, and downstairs to the great hall. At her entrance, both Estella and Petunia glanced up from their nursing duties. Mariam pasted on a calm smile as she walked along the rows of pallets that had been created for the ill. Every makeshift bed now held a body, and not just the very young or the old. It seemed as though all members of the household were now falling ill.
“How are they faring?” Mariam asked.
“Most are sleeping,” Estella replied as she wiped at a young boy’s brow, her movements sluggish. “Others just moan in pain. I wish we could do more to help them.”
“So do I,” Mariam replied. “You both look exhausted. Why don’t you find a bit of rest? I will watch over them until you’ve both had something to eat and some fresh air.”
Petunia set down a bowl of water she must have just refreshed to start a new round of dampening cloths for the foreheads of those who were recently brought in. “That would be most appreciated.”
Estella stood and stepped away from the young boy she’d been attending. “The poor lad has taken a turn for the worse. His lungs are rattling and he cannot stop coughing.” She held out a cloth in her hands to reveal red splotches of blood against the white linen. “I don’t think he has much time left.”
Resolved to change that fate, Mariam straightened. “Go now, both of you and do not return until you feel refreshed. I cannot have either of you falling ill as well.”
The girls offered her a quick bow before they hurried from the chamber, more than relieved to be given a reprieve. Mariam’s shoulders sagged as they departed. All around the chamber she saw not just the individuals upon their beds, she also saw dirty brown and gray auras surrounding them all—surely the signs of disease and death.
Invisible hands clutched her heart. She could not allow them to die, not when she could do something to help them, however temporarily. Mariam turned and headed out of the great hall and swung wide the castle’s doors before heading back inside the sickroom.
For a heartbeat she hesitated as she looked about the chamber. Anyone who saw her do what she intended might call her a witch. The consequences could be profound and deadly for her, or were the castle residents too sick to care?
She had to take the chance. Slowly, she lifted her hands and connected with the force inside herself. She drew a deep breath, as deep as she’d ever drawn before, and slowly released it. A cold, thin wind started whistling from the open doorway and into the great hall. The strength of the breeze built, then multiplied, until the tapestries were flapping against the walls. The wind swirled atop the pallets, taking the foul air and replacing it with the scents of heather, peat, grass, and the tang of the sea. The combination mixed to create a unique blend, kissed by the sun, and sent to renew anyone it touched.
At the exact moment the wind peaked, Mariam felt a presence behind her. She startled and dropped her hands. The wind instantly died and all the breath went out of her lungs. Panic screamed though her as she whipped around to see Alexander, and another man and a woman, each holding a baby in their arms, staring at her.
Mariam froze, afraid to move or even to breathe.
“You must be Mariam,” the redheaded woman said as she moved to Alexander and placed the baby she carried into the warrior’s arms. “Take the children somewhere abovestairs and open the windows.” She took off her cloak, tossed it over the staircase railing, and returned to Mariam’s side. “I am Vivian Douglas.” She waved after the men now climbing the staircase with the children. “My husband, Quinn, and our twins, Alexander and Lilian. And before you ask, aye, we named our son after his godfather, Alexander Ross, whom you already know.”
Mariam clutched her shaking hands before her. The woman acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Quinn and Vivian.” She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Cameron said you would arrive soon.”
Vivian’s features softened as she came and placed a warm hand atop Mariam’s. “Please do not worry about what happened here—what you think we might have seen. It is not an unusual event for us since we turned Kinmount House in Dumfriesshire into a sanctuary for men and women who are either suspected of being witches and warlocks, or for those who truly are.”
“There are others?” Mariam whispered.
“Aye,” Vivian said with a smile that faded as her gaze shifted to the chamber and its occupants. “We can discuss this more later. It appears we have work to do. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I’m not sure exactly.” Even though Vivian appeared to be kind and had claimed not to care about what Mariam had been doing, she could not risk telling her about her dreams. “The residents started falling ill this morning. I believe it is influenza.”
Vivian nodded as she moved back toward the doorway and retrieved a large leather satchel. “Then changing the air in the chamber was exactly what needed to happen. Clearing away the foul air is always the first step. Come.” She stepped past Mariam. “I’ll show you what else we can do to help them.” She set down her bag on a nearby table and started pulling out vials and containers of dried herbs, tinctures, and salves. She held a container out to Mariam. “Take this salve and start spreading it on every chest.”
Mariam inspected the container. It smelled strongly of mint. “What is it, if I might ask?”
“A salve of elderbark and wild mint. It will help them breathe easier.”
Mariam did as she was directed while Vivian prepared a second remedy using some sort of dried herb, bound together and placed in a sheet of parchment she rolled into a funnel. At the first patient’s bedside, she sat the patient up, and as she lit the herbs on fire, she forced the smoke into the funnel and had them breathe deeply. At Mariam’s questioning glance, Vivian explained, “’Tis English cudweed. The smoke, when taken into the body, helps relieve coughing, aches and pains, and cleanses the lungs.”
“How do you know all this?” Mariam asked.
“I’ve studied as a healer for years.”
Mariam smiled shakily. “I am so very grateful you are here.”
For the next several hours the two women worked to treat everyone with the salve and the smoke. When Estella and Petunia returned, Mariam asked them to bring Mistress MacInnes down to the great hall so she and Vivian could treat her along with the others.
Once that task was complete, and Nessie rested comfortably near the hearth, Vivian put the maids to work bringing each patient a bowl of steaming bone broth Mistress Farriday had supplied from the kitchens. The afternoon faded to evening, then darkness came and torches were lit to keep the great hall illuminated. The work of healing went on and on.
Through the night, Alexander and Quinn brought more patients into the chamber until all the beds were filled and new ones had to be created. As of yet, no one had died. For that, Mariam was grateful. Influenza was an insatiable monster, bringing down the castle’s children, warriors, servants, with equal fervor. Nearly one-third of the castle had fallen ill by daybreak.
When Mariam could no longer focus her mind on the task at hand, and her legs felt so weary she could hardly stand, she took a seat, meaning to sit there for only a moment as she closed her eyes. Please God, spare those who have yet to fall ill, and help those who are to get better.
“Are you falling ill?” It was Vivian’s voice that startled her awake.
“Nay.” Mariam opened her eyes as she straightened in the chair. “I was only resting a moment.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep?”
Mariam ran her hand wearily through her hair. “Not until we start to see some improvement.”
“Their symptoms are easing. There are just so many it is hard to notice.” Vivian extended her hand to Mariam and pulled her to her feet. “You and I need to stay healthy. I say it is time for a rest, however short. Come with me.”
Vivian pulled Mariam from the great hall, to the courtyard and beyond to a grassy place. As they walked, Mariam’s thoughts moved back over the last several hours. It had been such an unusual experience, having Vivian by her side as they struggled to heal all who were sick. The healer had accepted Mariam from the moment they’d met for who she was, neither fearing nor trying to change her. No one had ever accepted her magic so readily before. A dizzying sense of hope unfurled within her—perhaps when all of this was through, she and Vivian could be friends. Life-long friends.
“Vivian,” Mariam said when they reached a grassy spot. “Thank you for coming here, and for your help. I can’t tell you what it has meant to me.”
“That’s what friends do for each other.” Vivian stretched out on the grass, and placing her hand behind her head, stared up at the morning sky. “Sit or lie down and breathe the air for a while. It will do us both good.”
With a smile, Mariam did the same. Overhead, the usual summer sky had turned to gray as though reflecting the somber mood of both women who gazed upon it. The sky was odd, but Mariam was too tired to reflect anymore upon it.
“Do you have any idea of how your people were exposed to influenza?” Vivian asked. “The illness has become much more prevalent in the past few years since traders have started exploring new shipping routes outside of Europe.”
“Traders?” Mariam’s stomach tightened as she glanced at Vivian. “Not four days ago, the castle welcomed one of Laird Sinclair’s crews from one of his ships. They stayed overnight here before they set sail for Portugal. Could they have brought the disease with them?”
Vivian’s eyes filled with sadness. “Aye, that is usually where it starts; with a ship’s crew recently returned from an eastern foreign port.”
Fear slithered down Mariam’s neck. “What will happen to the sailors?”
Vivian looked away. “If they are lucky, the sea air will help to invigorate them.”
“And if they are not so lucky?” Mariam asked.
“Many will die,” Vivian replied, her voice filled with remorse.
Mariam released a heavy breath as she closed her eyes. When visions of sick seamen filled her mind, she opened her eyes once again. Perhaps the illness would begin and end with the castle residents and the seamen. Hoping that much was true, Mariam asked, “Did you see this illness elsewhere on your journey to Ravenscraig, or are we the only ones who suffer?”
“There are others . . . In the village we passed on our way here.” Vivian’s voice was unsteady.
Mariam’s heart sank as she turned her head toward Vivian. “The villagers are ill? Several of them came up to help serve dinner on the night Cameron returned with his men and the seamen.”
“That’s when they must have been exposed to the illness.”
“What can be done to help them?”
“I tried to ease their suffering by treating those I could when we passed through. Then, I left supplies with several of the women to treat anyone else who becomes feverish.”
Mariam’s clenched her fists at her sides against a rush of frustration. So many of Cameron’s people were suffering, and not only from illness. “These are truly troubling times . . . We face enemies on all sides.”
“You are not speaking only of influenza, are you?” Vivian asked.
“Nay.” Mariam swallowed hard. “Do you know who I am? Who my father is?”
“You are Cameron’s ward, and a woman with unusual abilities. Who sired you has no bearing on who you truly are.” Vivian’s gaze connected with hers. Sympathy and understanding reflected back. “How long have you been able to control the wind?”
Mariam’s first response was denial, but then she sighed, resigned to the fact that something had changed inside her this week. Her hand crept up to cup the shell at her neck. “In some fashion, my whole life thus far. But only with greater ability since I shattered the shell necklace my mother gave me as a child.”
“You awoke your powers when you broke it,” Vivian said. “It must also mean your mother was gifted.”
“Gifted?” Mariam frowned. “You mean magical?”
Vivian nodded. “As you said, these times are difficult. “’Tis best if we simply refer to our abilities as gifts.”
Mariam’s eyes went wide. “You have abilities as well?” Her shoulders sagged as relief moved through her at the knowledge this woman had magical abilities as well.
Vivian nodded. “My healing is the most outward sign, and one that brought me much trouble not long ago.”
“Cameron said you were almost burned at the stake?”
A soft smile came to Vivian’s lips. “I was about to be burned when Quinn saved me.”
Mariam felt the blood drain from her face. “Did my father . . .?” She couldn’t bear it if her father had been the one to send Vivian to the stake—to cause her pain.
Vivian reached out and covered Mariam’s hand with her own. “He had nothing to do with my struggles.” There was a long silence between them until the healer asked, “Do you have other gifts?”
Mariam stiffened and almost pulled her hand away before she paused, and sank back against the grass. Vivian had not called her out, had not pointed and cried out against her. This was a woman who admitted to being irregular like herself. “I have dreams. Usually they are terrible dreams that portend what might happen in the future.”
Vivian nodded. “My foretelling of the future comes to me in the form of visions.”
“You have dreams also?” Mariam gasped at the revelation. “It is a terrible burden, is it not? To know what the future will bring?”
“Mine are more like visions that happen all during the day or night. I do not think of my gift as a curse. I like to think of my visions as an opportunity instead. Knowing what might happen in the future gives us both a chance to perhaps change that outcome.”
Mariam frowned. “Have you ever been able to do that? Change the future?”
“Aye,” Vivian replied, her tone suddenly sad. “Those changes come with a cost that is not always easy to bear.” After another long pause, she asked, “Do you want to tell me about one of these dreams you’ve had recently? Perhaps the two of us can find some insight we might use to counter the effects.”
“I had a dream not long ago that was very unusual. It was the emotion it caused in me—the fear—I remember more than anything else. There was darkness . . . devastation. And it seemed as though the whole world was simply gone. I don’t know how we can use any of that to change what might happen.”
Vivian turned to stare back up at the sky. “Mariam.” Vivian’s voice sounded strange. “It is no longer what might happen. It is happening now.”
Mariam sat upright and looked at the sky. The world around them fell silent—devoid of all noise. The clouds overhead shifted from gray to black and the sun disappeared, blotted out by sudden darkness. The wind that had been so sweet moments before was suddenly filled with the smell of sulfur. Dry leaves flew up in a whirlwind of rustling brown and gold, striking Mariam’s body and leaving a sting of pain behind as they moved on.
“Are you causing the wind?” Vivian asked, her features filled with concern as she stood.
“Nay!” Mariam jumped up as a coil of fear knotted her stomach.
“It must be a dust storm.”
Mariam looked up. The darkness edged forward, until it engulfed them entirely. Visibility dropped until Mariam could only see a hand’s length in front of her. The castle she knew was there, but it had vanished into darkness.
The whole world was simply gone.
A chill chased down Mariam’s spine at the recollection of her dream. Black soot floa
ted in the air, like a fine mist, but it didn’t vanish upon hitting the ground. Nay, upon the earth, it swirled like cold snow, accumulating about her booted feet.
“We must return to the castle,” Vivian said.
“Agreed. I fear this is going to get much worse.” Mariam gulped ashy air as she shuffled slowly forward. Finally, a dark mass came into view. The castle. But where were the doors? Uncertain where the portal was located, Mariam inched her way along the stone wall until she finally felt the wooden planks that made up one of the doors.
Once back inside, Mariam closed the heavy doors behind her and Vivian. Even so, the smell of sulfur hung in the air. “I’m so glad you, Quinn, and Alexander arrived when you did. I would hate for you to have been caught up in whatever kind of storm this is.” And what of Cameron and his men? Would they know of the danger and stay away, or be caught in it themselves?
“This is no storm. I heard a story as a child about a similar situation—sudden darkness that blocks the sun, the birds and animals vanishing, and lots of falling ash.” Vivian’s face paled. “In the past, many have thought such an event was a sign of God’s displeasure with his people.”
“Is that what you believe this is?” Mariam asked, her voice vibrating with emotion.
“Nay. I believe it is nature’s way of changing the world in which we live.”
“It seems more like the earth is exploding rather than changing,” Mariam said.
With a sad smile Vivian nodded. “When this happened before, the ash came from across the sea, originating in Iceland.”
Mariam frowned. “Nature is unhappy with us, then?”
“Nature is always changing, evolving, and hoping those of us who reside in her fold will find a way to adapt.”
Mariam did not fully understand what Vivian tried to explain. “How long will the darkness last?”
“Days. If it is as it was when I was a child, the effects of this ash will be with us for years.” Vivian’s gaze shifted to the stairs, and Mariam knew she was thinking about her husband and children ensconced in the rooms above.
A Laird and a Gentleman Page 13
