The Stone of Destiny

by Caroline Logan

  “We had to get rid of it, dear ones. It is always a difficult thing to do, because it looks so much like a baby.” She gave the boy’s cheek a pat. “Your mother will be upset for a while, but she will soon understand that it was for the best.”

  The girl backed away from the window in horror. What had they done? Where was the baby?

  I’ll take it, if they don’t want it, she thought wildly as she stumbled through the gloom of the village. She was only fourteen, but she could manage. It would be like having her own brother again.

  Then she heard the wailing.

  One of the houses at the end of the path had a light lit. She rushed over to the window. Inside, a woman was curled up on her bed sobbing into a pillow while a man rubbed her back. There were a few others in the room with her, each silent and pitying.

  A man appeared at the door and gave her husband a nod. He immediately stiffened and the woman raised her tear-blotched face. When she caught sight of the visitor, she began to keen, loudly, her sobs wracking her body.

  The girl watched in terror as the other people left the house, muttering condolences. The visitor rested a hand on the husband’s shoulder for a moment, then turned to go.

  “Wait,” the husband called, his voice breaking. “Where did you put him?”

  “Hanging in a tree, so the faeries can take him away with them.”

  The woman’s cries rang in the girl’s ears as she fled from the house.

  What have they done? What have they done? She lurched through the mud, determined to get as far away from this Gods-forsaken village as possible.

  Then, as the moon shone through the clouds, she caught a glimpse of a white bundle hanging in a tree and screamed.

  Chapter 45

  Ailsa awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. It was still dark, a little before dawn. Cursing her nightmares and the uncomfortable, rigid wood of the boat, she sighed and turned over.

  A noise came from her left and she looked into the darkness. The faint glow of the moon outlined a man, strolling down the beach towards her, his hands in his pockets. The flaming, unkempt curls gave away his identity.

  “Ailsa?” Harris whispered as he approached. She thought about pretending to be asleep, but was too weary for the bluff.

  “What do you want, Harris?” she asked. She placed an arm over her eyes and drew a deep breath. The horror from her dream still clawed at her mind. She felt the familiar prickle of tears in her eyes and willed them away.

  Do not cry. You promised.

  Harris stopped at the edge of the boat and she was glad for the steadiness of the wood underneath her.

  “I wanted to see how you were.” She felt the boat creak as he climbed in and sat at the opposite end. “What happened earlier?”

  “I got angry.” She exhaled.

  He came closer, careful of his footing along the narrow boat. She felt his hesitation, but finally he reached out and moved her arm away from her face. She lifted her head to look at him and he gasped.

  “What did he do to you?”

  “What? I—” She gingerly touched her face, feeling across the smooth flesh of her cheek before finding a graze on her forehead. It was gravelly and sore to touch. She must have received it when they’d been fighting on the ground.

  “I’m fine,” she answered.

  “This is my fault. I should have watched him more closely. When he got up, I assumed he was going to check the perimeter.”

  “He followed me. Tried to get me to—” She gripped the seat under her fingers. “When I refused, he got mad. Said he could never want someone so deformed. Then he asked me if I had killed my mother.” She gulped, swallowing the feelings of hatred and despair that threatened to rise again. “He said she should have killed me when she had the chance.”

  Harris put his face in his hands. “Oh Ailsa, I’m so sorry. You had every right to want to bash his head in.”

  “I know that I shouldn’t want to kill him. I know that it’s barbaric and murderous and horrible. But part of me still wishes I hadn’t missed. Does that make me a monster?”

  He gave her a level stare. “You are not a monster, Ailsa.” He paused, weighing his words. “When I was young, I had everything I wanted. I was pretty spoilt actually. I could go wherever I wanted, do whatever I wanted. When I was nine, I got to go on this big adventure to hide the Stone of Destiny. I thought it would be such fun: sleeping rough, walking around on land.

  “Somewhere near the end of our journey, my aunt, our leader, took us to meet some humans. They lived in a tiny cottage and wore rags for clothes. When we arrived, they had set out some food for us—a simple broth. I was so annoyed. I wanted to catch my own food, like we had been doing so far, and I thought they were rude to try to serve us measly soup. So, I turned my nose up at it. Told them I didn’t want it.” He blew out a breath. “I had never seen my aunt so angry. She explained that these people had nothing. They had so little food that they were slowly starving. And still, they had offered us a meal.” Harris bit his lip. “At the time I was angry but now… I can’t think about that night without drowning in shame. It makes me feel like a monster.

  “My point is, Ailsa, nothing for me was very hard, but it succeeded in making me apathetic. I couldn’t imagine suffering; I had no empathy. You, on the other hand, have led a very hard life, and it governs everything you do. Whether you realise it or not, it has shaped you into a good person—and it could have made you a monster, but it didn’t. You know what’s wrong and you fight for what’s right, despite no one doing the same for you, because no one did the same for you.

  “While you have your wrath, you also have passion.”

  Leaning forward, he placed a hand over hers.

  “There is a storm beneath your flesh, Ailsa, but it’s buried deep under fear and rejection. Only you alone can decide whether to smother it or embrace it.”

  It was the most earnest she had ever heard him. And yet…

  “Storms kill people, Harris. They blow down houses, start fires—”

  “They also make way for new life. They heal. All I ask is that you be yourself. That light is worth the dark.”

  She sat still for a moment, letting his words shield her from the worry and fear inside. His fingers traced patterns on hers, as if willing her to emerge from the darkness. Finally, she lifted her chin and nodded. He smiled at her then, glorious and radiant as the sun, and she couldn’t help but return it. A little bit of peace settled back into her soul.

  There was a rare moment of openness on his face before it was replaced by that infuriating smirk. Back to teasing.

  Well, that didn’t last long.

  “And you know, just like a storm—” he started.

  “Don’t say it,” she growled.

  “You can—”

  “I’m warning you, Harris.” She picked up her bag and launched it at him.

  It narrowly avoided his head and Harris simply grinned and climbed out of the boat. She could hear his laughter all the way up the beach, as she rolled over and huffed. Just when she thought he was being genuine, he had to go and act the fool.

  Still, her heart felt a little lighter after their exchange. He had seen the darkest parts of her and hadn’t recoiled. Ailsa had been sure when she had stalked off to the boat, that he and Angus would never forgive her. But Harris had surprised her. He had tried to understand.

  Once the sun had risen, she approached the campsite with trepidation. She was worried to face Angus again—would he still want to be her friend after last night? But it seemed that Harris had spoken with him. He greeted her amiably and handed her an apple for breakfast. Ailsa let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

  After Harris appeared with a couple of flasks of fresh water, they packed up their things and made their way to the boat.

  The journey to the Isle of Faodail was completed mostly in silence. This was it. Today, they would find the Stone of Destiny… and encounter whatever obstacles protecte
d it.

  Thick mist clung to the water like a second skin, making the crossing treacherous. Ailsa wished they had thought to light a torch before they set off, but Harris seemed to know the route. He sat with one hand in the churning waters and murmured instructions around hidden boulders and against strong currents as Angus and Ailsa took turns paddling.

  More than once, Ailsa thought she heard music drifting on the wind but dismissed it. Whenever she had tried to listen, it had faded away and leaving her wondering if she’d imagined it.

  She observed her two companions, for they were the only view afforded to her. Angus, although worried, had a way of being centred. There was a quiet diligence in his rowing which told her he was optimistic about what lay ahead.

  Harris, on the other hand, had a fierce determination in command of their little vessel. What had his life been like before this? She knew he was charismatic, if a bit of a trickster. She’d imagined his natural habitat was a beach in Struanmuir, where he spent the days lying around. He appeared to have few responsibilities, especially compared to his sister. She was an ambassador and he was… As far as she could tell, his only accolade was being Iona’s brother. Yet, he had been the driving force of this expedition. Was it possible he was out to prove himself? If that was true, what would happen if they failed?

  A dreamer and a crusader, that’s who I’m working with. So what does that make me?

  She looked from the two men, to the landmass that was emerging from the mist, and clenched her jaw. Foreboding and unease plunged like stones in her stomach as she beheld the rocky beach ahead and she had her answer.

  A realist.

  She helped guide the boat onto the pebbled shore and followed her companions onto dry ground, feeling like a child clutching two kites tightly before they could escape and float away into the wind.

  Chapter 46

  The land beyond the craggy coastline was a wet mess of bogs and marshland that squelched underfoot. They had to fight their way from the shore up a hill, stopping every now and then to extract their legs from the mud. The sky drizzled, the kind of rain that snuck under hoods and clung to skin. It painted a thin sheen of water on the landscape and their faces.

  Harris strode ahead purposefully, with Angus following close behind. Ailsa took up the rear, her axe gripped in her hand. When she had drawn it from her belt, they had both given her a look but had said nothing. She was the only one with a weapon at the ready.

  They reached the crest of the hill and finally rose out of the mist. Their patch of ground looked like it was floating in a sea of clouds. Ahead, the trio could clearly see the mountain at the centre of the island, it’s peak pointing towards the pale-yellow sun glowing through the rain clouds.

  “There,” said Harris, pointing to a stone path leading to the loch beneath the mountain. “Keep to the pathway,” was his only instruction before he forged on, back straight. Behind him, Ailsa and Angus exchanged nervous glances before following him up the trail.

  Just as they had reached about halfway, Ailsa spotted a flash of light out of the corner of her eye and gave a quiet yelp of surprise.

  “What was that?” she breathed.

  Angus turned to stare in the opposite direction. “I saw it, too.”

  Another flash of blue appeared on her other side and she whipped around, catching the faintest impression of a tiny floating body before it disappeared again.

  “Harris?” Ailsa called, as the selkie had not slowed down and was oblivious to their fright. He stopped unwillingly and turned back for them.

  “It’s okay. They’re wisps.” They watched together as one appeared a little way off, slightly further up the path that they were currently on.

  Still bewildered, Ailsa lifted her axe a little higher. “What’s a wisp?”

  Angus scanned the area, his eyes reflecting the faint turquoise glow of another wisp that appeared closer to them. “I thought they were just a story. They’re spirits, sometimes they’re naughty and sometimes they’re nice.”

  Harris scoffed. “Maybe in a faerie tale. Wisps use their light to trick people into going the wrong way.”

  “So should we go the opposite way?” asked Ailsa.

  Harris pushed her ahead and they continued up the same path. “Not necessarily. Sometimes they point out the right way to confuse you. Best thing to do is just ignore them.” Another wisp appeared in front of him and he swatted at it as he would a fly.

  “So, which is it? Are they good or evil?” Ailsa asked. It didn’t appear that they were being malicious, but from her experience with fair folk thus far, she was sceptical.

  He shrugged and motioned to himself. “Just follow the selkie instead. Chances are he’ll either lead you to treasure—or food.”

  “Look,” said Angus, pointing in front of them.

  Now that they were at the top of the hill, they could see that the loch ahead was surrounded by a wall of rock, save for in one place, where there was an opening. The water spilled from the fissure, and down into a deep cavern, creating a waterfall. How they hadn’t heard it before, Ailsa wasn’t sure. It thundered through the crack in the rock.

  She stepped off the path to get a better look. The cavity in the ground was about the size of a house. There was a set of stairs running into the hollow and along the sides of the cavern. She could barely make out something sparkling deep underground.

  “Look,” she called, running forward. “There’s a cave...”

  A shout from behind cut her off.

  Then the ground around them erupted.

  “Watch out!”

  Ailsa struggled to make sense of what was happening. Around them the earth was breaking apart: clumps were rising and churning, the moist soil like liquid under their feet. They clung to each other to remain upright.

  The island seemed to be disintegrating; thick clay swirled in circles, creating large holes which rapidly filled up with brown water. What emerged from beneath made Ailsa feel sick. Hands made of mud grabbed and pulled at her legs, making an awful squelching sound as they moved.

  “What the hell?” she heard Angus yell.

  She didn’t have breath to reply as she was assaulted from all sides by the clawing fingers of mud.

  The smell they emitted was revolting—putrid—and Ailsa was trying her best not to throw up as the hands slathered slimy clay in great smears up and down her legs. Another muddy limb managed to upset her balance and she landed on the ground with a squelch, her breath knocked out of her in a whoosh. The hands imprisoned her feet, dragging her with them into the mud. From somewhere behind her, she could make out shouts as Angus and Harris fought to free themselves.

  She struggled as hard as she could, swinging with her axe chaotically, but she was unable to reach the hands. She had sunk past her knees when a warm palm enveloped hers and Angus managed to pull her free. She crawled out of the muck just as more clay hands grabbed Angus by the legs.

  Now that Ailsa was on her feet again, she swung at them with her weapon, severing several muddy hands at the wrist. They gave way with little resistance, but more appeared in their place.

  She freed Angus and whipped her head around to look for Harris. In her struggling, she had moved far from the path and closer to the cavern opening. Back where she had first stepped onto the boggy ground, great clods of mud were swirling around like lava. She wouldn’t have known Harris was even there if it hadn’t been for a single curl of unsullied red hair. Nearly his entire body had been swallowed by the muck; just the strands of hair and one hand grasping at the air above remained.

  “Harris!” Ailsa screamed.

  She ran, slipping and sliding through the sludge, with Angus behind her. When they reached him, they grasped desperately at his hand, yanking as hard as they could but their hands slid over his, unable to find purchase. Ailsa dropped her axe to get a better grip. Angus gave a broken sob as Harris’s fingers slipped through theirs again.

  How long had he been under the mud now?

  Harris�
�s hand disappeared under the muck with a wet sound. The other hands around them dissolved too, satisfied with their prey.

  Chapter 47

  “Dig!” shouted Ailsa desperately as she and Angus began to use their hands as shovels. They soon realised they couldn’t win; every handful of dirt they removed was filled again by more oozing in to take its place.

  It had been ten long minutes and Harris had still not resurfaced. There was no sound now, save for the squashing of mud and their laboured breathing.

  Ailsa leaned back on her heels, her arms aching. A few drops of rain fell from the sky and trailed down her face like tears.

  “Stop, Angus.” When he continued to dig, she put a dirty hand on his shoulder.

  “We need to save him, Ailsa!”

  “He’s gone,” she whispered bleakly, grabbing his arms to force them to stop. His whole body was shaking with effort.

  Angus stared blankly at the pool of muck in front of them.

  Now, there was silence, stillness.

  He’s gone.

  The thought felt like a bad joke.

  Part of her couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t be dead. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Yet Angus’s sobs beside her conveyed the truth.

  Harris was dead.

  Harris was dead.

  “No…” she whimpered. After all they had been through, he had died before they had found the Stone. They were supposed to find it together. She was supposed to keep him and Angus safe.

  “I’m so sorry, Ailsa.” Angus reached out an arm towards her and pulled her to his shoulder. He reeked, his sweet, comforting smell gone, but she didn’t care as she pressed her face into his neck. She could feel his attempts to swallow his tears as he rocked her slowly. She felt her own eyes prickling, but she couldn’t give in. Instead she concentrated on the feel of Angus’s pulse to keep her grounded. Thunder cracked in the distance.

  “What do we do now?” asked Angus in a thick voice.

  Ailsa screwed up her face but didn’t part from his shoulder. She hoped it muffled her voice enough to make it sound like she wasn’t tearing up.