Forged in Dreams and Magick hl-1

by Kat Bastion

  I shook my head. “How? A person is born, ages, and dies. Time progresses.”

  “Aye, Isa. A man, as he ages, sees the hands of time pass. He remembers what’s happened, experiences the present, and looks forward to a future. Everyone does. But to someone outside, each moment is crystallized. All are grains of sand in an hourglass, happenin’ when scheduled from each person’s vantage point, occurrin’ all at once in totality.”

  Whoa. My head spun. I’d married a warrior and philosopher. My mind balked at his concepts, even with recent events. I sighed, wondering, yet again, how I fit into the game. But Iain continued, pulling me out of analysis.

  “Our castle exists, and yet it doesn’t. Built eons before its time, key areas are constructed of an element from their dimension. Everythin’ there is light, white, and prismatic, but the box, the wall, the great hall ceilin’, and the cornerstones of our curtain wall are heavy, dark, and absorptive. The dark matter pulls you into the light, transportin’ you where you’re intended.”

  “You knew this all along?” My voice faltered, raising an octave.

  Iain had withheld vital information. He’d blatantly lied. I pushed away from him in anger, but he tightened his arms, pulling me against his chest. I struggled until his strength made any resistance I gave wasted effort. I growled in frustration. So many things would have been easier if I’d known the mechanics of how everything had worked from the beginning.

  “Isa,” he whispered. “The secrets were not mine to tell. Only once they’d shown you, could we talk about the powers they hold and my responsibility with them.”

  “What is your responsibility, Iain? What do they expect of you? Are they angels?” Maybe if he understood what they expected of him, I’d better grasp my role in the master plan.

  “I doona know,” he said. “What they want of me does not matter. My responsibility is first to my people who depend on me. The castle provides me the ability to shield them. The secrecy was somethin’ ingrained in me by my da, who passed down the knowledge.”

  Iain rested his head gently on mine, loosening the iron grip of his arms as my body eased. His intuitive nature must have sensed my interest in cooperating rather than fleeing. I cringed at the memory of how many times I’d fled, rapidly, and on foot, from paradigm shifts.

  I should imagine the unimaginable as the norm.

  “How do you protect your people with the castle? What power does it have besides the portal through the wall?” I asked.

  “You went through the wall?” he asked in surprise.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “How else did you think I got there? I don’t even know how many times I went through it. Damn thing has a serious kick I had to brace myself for. Have you been through the wall?”

  “Nay. My place is here, with my clan.” He paused, placing a tender kiss on my shoulder blade. “The element I mentioned transports the entire grounds into a space between dimensions. Although we train and engage in battles outside our curtain walls, we go undetected from the outside world when a serious threat to the castle appears. An English army advancin’ across the countryside would never find our walls to breach.”

  My jaw dropped. They intermingled with neighboring clans—I’d seen evidence of their filtered hospitality at the festival—but to vanish from the face of the Earth? It boggled my mind.

  “What do they see? What does someone standing in the woods see when it disappears?”

  “They see the land as it existed before. When we’re gone, a former reality takes our place.”

  Of course. Breathe. Everything will all make sense . . . if you admit nothing has to.

  I forced out a lungful of air. Iain lived his entire life with the facets of my new reality. He would help me adjust—help me accept things. No other constant existed that I trusted more than Iain.

  His hand tugged gently at my shoulder, and I turned toward him. Kind, hazel eyes penetrated my fear. His calmness soothed me. I persisted, asking every question I had. I needed to continue the interrogation until the well ran dry.

  “What if I watched from the woods as it disappeared? In the time it takes me to blink, does the entire landscape transform?” I asked.

  “Aye, I imagine it does,” he replied.

  “When do you do it? How do you make it happen? Why did you do it now, when you knew I’d be returning?” Questions tumbled out as thoughts flowed, before I forgot what I needed to ask, before I got lost in the enormity of his replies.

  He laughed softly as he brushed locks of hair back from my face, tucking them behind my ear. “I transport us when the walls are threatened or when I’m instructed by our guardians—your angels—and, at the very least, about once a month. Transport replenishes the power within the stones.”

  “Is that why the box has more power now? Because of all the jumps I’ve made?” I wondered.

  He shook his head. “Nay, you’ve been gainin’ power. Somehow, it’s energizin’ you each time. Remember when I used the energy from the wall to boost your travel with the box?”

  “Yes. The wall came alive at your touch.” I remembered the lights brightening.

  “Weel, ’tis a similar thing when I transport the clan. To make the transfer complete, I leave my hand there ’til the wall becomes completely porous. Then, we’re truly a part of their world.”

  “The entire clan knows, right? They’d obviously have to. No one can leave . . . and the sky is definitely not blue anymore.”

  He laughed, nodding. “Aye, they know. They were all either born here, knowin’ no other way of life, or, on a rare occasion, they married into our clan. Outsiders that accept our way of life take a pledge of secrecy with the penalty of death for breakin’ their oath of allegiance to us.”

  “Wow. How many have married in?” I asked.

  “Not many. Only two men and one woman have joined the clan in my lifetime,” he replied. “As to the why of the matter, I had to conceal us from attack. I’d hoped you’d make it through even with us between worlds. Robert is leading the men now into battle against an uprisin’ from neighbor clans.” His voice grew somber. “Now that you’ve returned, I’m to join them.”

  “You waited for me?” I asked, surprised.

  He smiled, caressing my cheek. “Aye, my beauty. I waited for you. You strengthen me. Now I can go and defend my people secure in the knowledge that my woman is safe, she is here to protect my clan in my stead, and she loves me.”

  Iain’s lips descended, feathering over my mouth before capturing my lips in a hungry kiss. I ran my hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. We made love again in the late afternoon, and again and again on through the night. The rest of Iain’s world fell away as I celebrated my entire world held in my arms.

  * * *

  The next day dawned with Iain preparing to join in the fight. I woke fully satisfied, yet enormously tired, from a night filled with passion. Iain crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching me as I dressed in preparation to take my place as Lady of the Castle.

  “Why are you are leaving, when Robert’s already been commanding in your place?” I asked, pulling a scarlet gown over my head.

  “Aye, Robert is fully capable of leading our men; but Fingall has still not been found, and Gawain and Seamus have not returned.” He sighed. “One clan rising against us has ties to a man who married into our clan. He swears he’s had no contact with his kin, yet I need to be sure the Brodie are secure. We can only travel to the in-between for a short time. Our true home, the place we flourish, is this world. I need to make certain we’re protected here.”

  I nodded. We all needed blue sky and interaction with others, even if those things brought storms and conflict. We had to enjoy the sweet things—at the risk of losing them—to fully live.

  Gotta risk it to live it.

  I turned, tightening the ribbon laced across my ribcage and fastening the loose ends in a bow behind my back. Iain’s faraway look as he stared at the floor told me his mind had a
lready left. He was a good man, dedicated to those that relied on him, regardless of the personal cost.

  When I slid my feet into the leather slippers, he stood and took my hand, leading me downstairs to the map room. The wall shimmered and beamed as if anticipating us.

  Iain released my hand and walked over to it, placing his hand in the upper left-hand corner as he’d done before. “This spot is where the control happens. Place only one hand flat here. No matter where we are, it takes us to the opposite place. Since we’re between worlds, my contact now brings us back.”

  “Sounds simple enough, I guess. How will I know when to hide us again?” I asked.

  “You’ll know. We’ve scouts to report back if we’re threatened.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “And if you’re not here, Brigid knows what to do.”

  I nodded, watching the lights fade until they became only pinpoints on the wall. The design suddenly struck me as resembling constellations in our galaxy rather than locations on an earthly map. The fluidity of the sparkling gray backdrop stilled as it adopted a solid state. Energy that had been sparking in the room when we arrived had dimmed to a low hum.

  “You mean, when I go back.” I said.

  He removed his hand from the wall and turned to face me, taking my hands into his, keeping a small distance between us. “Aye. We agreed a week here and a week there. But I doona know how that can continue. Your people here need you. I need you.”

  I nodded, tears springing into my eyes. My two worlds were at odds with each other, and the strain had begun to unravel me inside. I didn’t know how much longer I could continue living two lives when each one needed all of me.

  A strong man stood before me, opening his heart to me. Offering me everything he had: his world, his heart. I smiled at him, refusing to let tears fall.

  “I’m here for you, Iain. Go and fight for us. Come back to me safe, and we’ll talk about our future. You’re right, I’m needed by many. I’ll make sure they’re cared for and protected.”

  He dropped his head, grabbed my hips, and crushed my body into his while kissing the breath out of me. I melted into him. My man and his clan weren’t the only ones with needs. I thrived off Iain’s love. The joy and accomplishments of his people great and small were my successes too. Those were the things that gave me purpose every day.

  I followed him out to the courtyard. In one fluid motion he mounted Dubhar. The horse pawed restlessly at the earth, dressed in the clan colors on his bridle. The animal had been outfitted with a thin saddle and a rolled blanket, food and supplies tied to the back.

  A group of people gathered, likely attracted by the real-world blue skies sparkling overhead. I jumped when a light hold grasped my waist. Brigid’s smiling gray eyes greeted me.

  “Hello, sister,” she said.

  I laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist too. “Hello, sister.”

  Iain gave me a last look, and I drank in the spectacular sight of my warrior: long chestnut hair rippling in a slight breeze, a fresh braid dangling from each temple, his angled jaw shadowed by darker stubble. A hard edge defined his expression as his fierce hazel eyes pierced a silent message into my soul. He did this for me . . . for us.

  I belonged to him.

  And he . . . belonged to us all.

  CHAPTER Thirty

  New purpose filled my heart and pumped through my veins as I watched the drawbridge lift into place, locking us within the protection of the curtain walls while we remained in the real world, ticking away on history’s clock. Iain galloped off, dense forest beyond the meadow swallowing man and horse whole.

  In silence, I renewed my vow to the role he’d given me—caretaker of his clan. Brigid and I wandered back to the village, and the small crowd that gathered to bid Iain a safe journey walked with us. I surveyed our people and the surrounding landscape with fresh eyes.

  I clasped one of Brigid’s hands with both of mine. “I want to spend the morning focusing on everyone’s needs.”

  My voice carried loud enough for everyone to hear. The group exploded with excitement, several people addressing me at once. I grinned, eager to help them in every way, determined to understand and become an integral part of a world that had chosen me.

  “I’ll need pine board to build more beehives,” said Agnes. “Mairi’s been helpin’ me with the harvestin’ and candle makin’.”

  Jamie, one of Iain’s guard left behind for protection, spoke up. “M’Lady, three of the cottages need roof rethatchin’ before winter.”

  A tug at my skirt drew my attention downward. Round eyes of emerald green looked up at me. A stem, covered in dozens of creamy-white flowers with pink striations, was thrust between us, clutched in his little hand. The orchid blooms resembled ascending angels, their broad, scalloped skirts and high-arching wings fluttering in the breeze.

  “Why, thank you,” I said, taking the flowers from the lad. Between my fingers, I twirled the conical bouquet-on-a-stem, delighted with the secretly symbolic gift.

  As we passed by the garden, I glanced at the stream flowing inside the curtain wall, feeding into the millpond. I realized not everything existed independent of the outside world. The water had flowed when I was on the other plane. Had creatures swam through both realms with the water current? The mechanics of what could and could not breach the time barrier perplexed me.

  People broke off a few at a time, going to their homes or finishing their day’s tasks. Agnes, the beekeeper, joined Mairi, donning a similar linen-shrouded hat and gloves. Mairi held a smoldering stick up and blew smoke into one end of the four-foot-tall, two-foot-square wooden hive, forcing the bees out. Agnes pulled out pieces of honeycomb and carefully placed them into a lined basket at their feet.

  Brigid squeezed my arm when only the two of us remained. She whispered, “I’m off to find Donalda. I need to order a few new gowns. Agnes is pregnant with her first bairn.” Before I had a chance to reply, she skipped off toward the seamstress’s cottage.

  I laughed at Brigid’s boundless energy and walked into the smithy, marveling at all the gleaming weaponry hung on the wall. Hamish slid a red-hot blade from the forge with huge forceps. Then he laid it upon an iron anvil and hit the fiery surface with the hammer in his other hand, causing sparks to fly.

  “Hamish!” I shouted above the ear-piercing clash of metal.

  He glanced up, grunting.

  “I need four iron candleholders about so high.” I held my hand about shoulder height, and he nodded in reply. “Where would I find someone to supply wood?”

  “Uilleam’s the woodcutter. He stocks the kitchen every few days in the late morning,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I shouted over my shoulder as I dashed off.

  I rushed up the hill, hoping to catch Uilleam if he hadn’t yet stocked for the week. When I arrived in the kitchen, midday meal preparations were in full swing. Rowena, a generously curved woman with ruddy cheeks, oversaw the kitchen staff of a half dozen while they cut meat, added herbs to stews, and pulled out small bread loaves from a stack.

  I stood there long enough to get Rowena’s attention. She began to cross the room. Rich scents of a brewing stew wafted into my nose, and my gut clenched. I rushed out of the kitchen and into the hall, my hand flying to my mouth.

  My entire skin dampened as I struggled with a wave of nausea. I took several slow, deep breaths until the intensity of the attack subsided. I laughed dryly, musing that Agnes might not be the only one pregnant. During that fleeting thought, the smile fell from my face, complicated reality sobering my mood. How stupid of me not to think about what unprotected sex with two men would produce.

  Burying the ramifications of my actions into the sand along with my head, I dragged my body up the stairs, pressing my cheek against the cool stones of the wall as I went. The clan seemed to be doing fine without me, and I needed to lie down and rest a while. Later, I would calculate my cycles to determine if I was pregnant, who the father might be.

  With a shoulder into the
heavy door, I stumbled into our room and collapsed onto the bed. Layers of blankets cushioned my fall as a dizzy spell spiraled me out of consciousness.

  * * *

  A new day brought our Highland mountains gray skies with a steady drizzle. I’d found and met with the woodcutter. Brigid had been kind enough to fetch the seamstress up to the castle so that we could both select fabrics for new gowns. Dress patterns and jewel-toned cloth squares were spread in a mosaic across the wooden surface of a long table in the great hall.

  I perused the length of the table, sucking in slow breaths, feeling a little green from what seemed like morning sickness. I’d put thought to the matter, realizing I hadn’t had any flow since my time-jumping—and bed-hopping—adventure had begun. The calculations meant, if the symptom rang true, that I was likely about nine weeks pregnant with Iain’s child.

  I sat down, rubbing soft pink satin between my fingers. The color made me wonder if the babe would be a boy or a girl. Brigid and Donalda chattered on about the best fabrics to suit Agnes while two men came up from the cellar and transported a large wooden barrel across the room toward the larder.

  Surrounded by the commotion of a normal day, I wondered if I should tell Brigid her possible aunt status. I discarded the notion, deciding a quiet time would be better. Based on recent experience, her people expected their secrets to gain a proper amount of age anyway.

  All of a sudden, the main door flew open, hitting the stone wall behind it with splintering force. I spun at the startling noise. Brigid shrieked, and I gasped as Gawain stood there covered in crimson blood.

  Brigid ran toward him, but he held his arm up, pegging her with a commanding stare. She stopped, crossing her arms. “’Tis not my blood. Robert sent me.”

  He looked squarely at me. “Isa, shroud the castle. The battle was a distraction. They’ve advanced in great numbers in our surroundin’ forest.”

  “Won’t they see us disappear?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I doona know. It matters not at this point. Our men are a day’s ride away and in the thick of battle. Our enemies laid a well-planned trap.”