by Foxx, Nia K.
“What was The Void like?”
“Big. Lonely in spite of the others trapped in the realm.”
“Seven hundred and fifty plus years is a long time for atonement.”
“Let’s just say that I wasna… what is the term… a boy scout?” A lopsided grin spread across his face.
“Somehow I didn’t peg you as one, but from what I’ve read about the history of Scotland there wasn’t many options. Obviously you have some redeeming qualities if Divinity saw fit to release you from The Void.”
“Mayhap but you shouldna minimize my sins so easily. The keep that we were laying siege on the next day belonged to my father. Ian MacDurmott.”
“But you said your name is MacDumnall.”
“The MacDumnalls are my mother’s clan, my clan. My mother was merely a kitchen servant in his home, captured in one of my father’s campaigns. When he found out she was pregnant he put her out in the midst of one of the coldest winters to keep his wife happy. After I was born she took me back to him.”
Sierra kept quiet to allow him to tell the story of his life.
“He took me in, but sent my mother away. I would learn growing up it wasna some grand, noble gesture of paternity. He had but one son and I was bein’ reared as a decoy for him. We were only a few months apart and looked very similar. Fortunately for me, I inherited my height from my mother’s clan and outlived my usefulness no sooner than we sprouted our first whiskers.
“My father took great pleasure in telling me how he really felt, not that it was a surprise since he reminded me every day I was nothing more than a bastard spawn who could belong to any number of his men. He also felt the need to recount how he’d stolen my mother from the MacDurmotts and defiled her nightly until her belly was swollen with me. He laughed over puttin’ her out in the winter so we both could die. Apparently when she returned with me in hand and he saw the resemblance between myself and his real son he devised his plan.”
Sierra gasped at the cruelty he must have endured growing up and how that could shape a person.
“I left before he could have me killed or put me out, and eventually found my way to the MacDumnalls. ’Tis a good thing I dinna expect to be welcomed with open arms.”
Sierra bit back her sorrow at hearing how a teenaged Giric was later rejected by his own mother and ostracized by most members of her clan. He’d had one important champion from the moment he came to the MacDumnalls, his grandfather. Lucky for him, under his grandfather’s protection none would dare to harm the young MacDumnall but Giric didn’t take his position for granted, instead he used the opportunity to learn all he could. He dove into combat training, spent hours learning to read and nights learning the tales of past battles.
By the time he’d turned twenty he’d earned the respect and allegiance of his clan, which only grew as he participated and eventually led his men on many successful campaigns. He wouldn’t have another encounter with the MacDurmotts until years later when a courier came with a letter from Ian MacDurmott himself apprising him of the death of his brother. The letter instructed Giric to return to MacDurmott land and pledge his allegiance or risk the wrath of the clan befalling him and any under his protection. Giric had promptly dismissed the letter with little regard.
“Mayhap I shouldna have underestimated the old bastard. I planned a siege on his keep after learning he was the one responsible for Alayna’s illness. He’d taken me wife and child away because I ignored his arrogant demand.”
“Oh my God, Giric, I can’t imagine having gone through all of that. I thought growing up in an orphanage was rough but it was nothing compared to what you endured.”
“Anyone fool hearted enough to abandon you dinna deserve ye in the first place.”
Sierra shrugged. “I’m just grateful she gave me life and had enough consideration to leave me with my grandparents.”
“What happened to them?” Giric asked, tucking a stray braid behind her ears. Sierra still remembered how the elderly couple doted on her over the five years of her life. Of the other kids at the orphanage she’d been one of the lucky ones.
“They were old. My mom was their miracle baby, I suppose, because my grandmother was almost forty when they had her. My grandfather passed first of a heart attack. Nana lived for another year. I thought my mother would come for me once she found out about their deaths. I held on to that fantasy for years.”
“It seems Divinity in her wisdom has brought two orphans together.” Giric pulled her to lie half atop his body, staring up with the most sincere blue eyes she’d ever seen. “I promise, Sierra MacDumnall, I will do my best to make you happy for all of our days.”
“And I you, Giric MacDumnall.”
“Happy birthday, lass.”
“Thank you. I’d almost forgotten.”
“Is there anything special ye’d like to do today?”
Her answer was immediate. “There’s no other place I’d rather be.”
About the Author
Nia Foxx is a mother of three children (and one cat). She steals time to read and write when her busy life permits. Like most author’s Nia began writing at an early age, elementary school to be exact. She considers writing to be a mini-vacation from the world around her. To see Nia’s other works feel free to visit her site at www.niafoxx.com
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