The Spellbinder: Highland Eyes

by Marissa St. James

  Meryl felt solid, level ground beneath her feet. The scent of blooming heather had long since disappeared. She refused to open her eyes, until her stomach settled. Whatever had just happened proved worse than riding in an express elevator, a sensation she wouldn't easily forget.

  The last thing she remembered, was seeing Tristan talking with Rose outside the great hall. The tender moment was one she'd just as soon forget; Tristan touching Rose's cheek with gentleness, a look in his eyes she thought was only for her now. He wasted no time turning to the girl. So much for caring and unity. Meryl believed she was well rid of the traitorous man, but in her heart she knew she was only trying to displace the pain she felt at his betrayal.

  She opened her eyes a slit. Blacktop covered the hard level ground. It looked new and clean with the shiny brightness of a fresh coat of clear nail polish. The newness wouldn't last long; it never did. The surface stretched out for a half mile in three directions. Bright yellow lines contrasted against the black coat, dissecting it into equal portions, then blended together in the distance. Before day's end, the immaculate surface would be dulled with dusty footprints and the inevitable litter.

  Meryl paused and stared across the expanse of the huge parking lot. At the far end, birch and ash trees created an attractive border. Bare shrubbery in need of pruning filled in some of the spaces between the trees, while colorful wildflowers added to the thick grass surrounding the woodland sentinels.

  The long brick building remained quiet for the moment, sheltering enclosed shops being prepared for the busy afternoon. A maintenance crew worked diligently to put the finishing touches on the wide entrance. Huge stone containers stood at either side of the main doors. Coleus, marigolds and geraniums of different hues were neatly arranged to show off their color to best advantage. Long, leafy, ivy stems curled gracefully over the containers’ edges. She was surprised and disappointed to find that someone had purloined her ideas for the plant arrangements. She wondered briefly if Enchantra or Cara would have taken the time to put plants around the mansion's veranda.

  Meryl looked beyond the lot to the highway, where heavy traffic moved in both directions. Where on earth had she landed? From what she could see, she'd returned to her own time—how had that happened? Be careful what you wish for, she chided herself and shuddered. Had Tristan found a way to send her home, regardless of her feelings? If he had, he'd missed his mark.

  Dinks grumbled. “You're right. He doesn't have the power to send us back, or do anything else for that matter. So if he didn't do it, who did? And what happened to my clothes?” For the first time, Meryl was aware of soft fur against her bare arms. Somehow, her wool gown had been exchanged for a short sleeved white blouse and paisley skirt. She'd grown so used to the long skirts, the feel of this skirt's hem against her calves felt indecently short.

  She wavered unsteadily for a brief moment and failed to notice the older couple approaching her.

  "Are you all right, miss?” the gentleman asked, concerned. He reached out and gently touched her arm, to steady her.

  "Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine, just dizzy for a moment."

  The couple glanced at one another, their eyes filled with concern for the stranger. “We live near here, perhaps you'd care to join us for some tea?"

  The woman looked hopeful and Meryl hated to disappoint her. “I'm sorry, I do have something to attend to."

  Dinks leaped from her arms to the man's shoulder, startling him. He laughed and easily moved the wayward cat to a more comfortable position.

  "Dinks! How could you?” Meryl scolded, wishing he had remained in his larger size to prevent such a thing from occuring.

  "Now there's an interesting name. Seems he's made his own decision.” The gentleman scratched behind Dinks’ ears and the cat purred with pleasure. “Looks like you'll have to join us now,” he concluded, his grin brightening his round face.

  Not knowing where she landed, Meryl reluctantly agreed. Dinks, the little traitor, gave her no choice. Meryl wondered what he was up to, because he never went to strangers. Dinks didn't like strangers. Since this sort of behavior was out of character for him, she'd have to wait to figure out what he's up to. Meryl felt uncomfortable with the couple. She sensed no danger and Dinks made himself at home. She often believed Dinks was more human than cat. She sighed softly and decided it might be better to let the answers come to her.

  The older couple approached the side entrance of a house with a large bay window in front. Gold lettering on the window announced an antique shop, which lay in darkness. The side door led into a cozy kitchen. In moments the woman placed a tray on the table while her husband pulled our chairs and invited Meryl to be seated.

  "Here we are, my dear.” The woman poured three cups of tea and her husband joined them. “Where are my manners?” she exclaimed. “We haven't even introduced ourselves. This is my husband, David McConnell, and I'm Martha."

  "I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Meryl Spellbinder and you've met Dinks, my not so faithful companion.” Meryl glowered at her pet's sudden fickleness. He crouched in the kitchen's doorway, alert, and raised his nose to better examine all the smells the kitchen had to offer.

  "Spellbinder,” Martha commented. “Such a strange name. Don't believe I've heard it before."

  "Strange family,” Meryl chuckled. “You'd know what I mean if you met my aunt, Enchantra."

  "Where are you staying?” David asked kindly. “Would your family be worried?"

  "Oh, no, they wouldn't worry,” Meryl replied a little too quickly. How did she explain anything without giving herself away? She didn't know where she was, or the date. She knew she'd been tossed into the future—her time and she had to find a way back to medieval Scotland. “As to where I'm staying. I've only just returned and haven't had a chance to find accommodations yet."

  "Then you'll stay with us, as long as you need. It's been so long since we've had a young person here, not since..."

  Meryl caught the silent warning David gave Martha. Something was wrong, but Meryl didn't feel it was her place to ask. “I don't want to cause problems for you."

  "Would be no problem at all. We'd love to have you, for however long you plan to stay."

  "Thank you. I'd be delighted."

  "Come along, I'll show you to the guest room."

  * * * *

  Sleep was about as evasive as a politician's speech. The more Meryl thought about her return to her own time, the less she understood. She tossed and turned in the twin bed, trying to get comfortable, but couldn't shut down her mind long enough to rest. Dinks raised his head from where he lay at the foot of the bed, and stared at his mistress, annoyed with her restlessness. “Sorry I disturbed you,” she whispered irritably. “Go back to sleep.” She watched his mouth open in a wide yawn and wondered how he did that without dislocating his jaw. In another moment he was sound asleep again, his chin resting on his paws.

  Meryl punched the pillow, bunched it up and lay on her side staring out the window. She still hadn't figured out what she was doing here. Maybe some good fairy heard her wish to return home and decided to send her back. Yeah, right. Was someone trying to keep her from collecting her inheritance? She was beginning to think it was more trouble than it was worth, despite the fact she had no idea what was involved. Money? Scotland was too poor for that and she couldn't imagine having rich parents. Property? No, for the same reason. How about a lifetime's supply of bannocks? She was sick of the dry oat cakes, and the idea of having them forever made her shudder. So what did that leave? She hadn't the foggiest idea. Meryl finally drifted off to sleep with visions of bannocks dancing in her head.

  The next morning, Meryl tried to clear the cobwebs from her tired brain. She needed to think of something different since last night's conversation with herself brought no solutions to her current situation. She concentrated on David and Martha. Meryl found she liked the couple and appreciated their hospitality, but she thought they were a little too trusting. There were people out there who would lov
e to take advantage of people like them. While they didn't say anything about their life, they told her about the small town she'd landed in. Hudson Falls was neither a rich nor poor community. It was the sort of town where everyone did well enough for themselves. No crime meant no locked doors—that explained the unspoken trust. It was more like a fairy tale—a pleasant one—yet still hard to believe in the twenty-first century.

  Martha worked in her antique shop while David puttered around their property, trimming hedges, mowing the expansive lawn. Meryl refrained from calling Dinks a traitor, figuring he was up to something. Her furry companion happily followed David about. She hoped he wouldn't do something crazy and embarrass her.

  The antique shop displayed items from many centuries and cultures. Meryl browsed through the well-kept displays, stopping now and again to study an item that caught her eye. She found the antique jewelry display fascinating, when a small odd shaped piece demanded her attention.

  No! It couldn't be! She frantically searched the pockets of her skirts. It was gone. Her wizard pin was gone. How could she have lost it? She had to calm down and try to figure out what might have happened that it ended up here in an antique jewelry display case.

  "Martha,” Meryl's voice trembled. “May I take a closer look at this piece of jewelry?"

  "Of course, dear, which one?” Martha put aside her list and went to the display case, sliding open the back of the case.

  "The odd shaped one."

  "Here you are. I'm sorry it isn't in better condition,” she offered apologetically.” It's too delicate to do much with it and shouldn't have been put in the case. I've never been able to quite make out what it is."

  "It's a wizard,” Meryl said softly. “A crazy little wizard.” Her fingertips traced lightly over the jeweled piece. The colors were dulled by age and scratches marred the surface. “Where did you find this?"

  "Let me see. It was in a box with a few other things, none of them in very good condition. There was, I believe, a broadsword with a broken blade. I remember it because the hilt had odd stones in it."

  Meryl paled. No, this couldn't be happening. “I'd like to see the sword, if you still have it."

  "It should be back here ... Are you all right, Meryl?"

  "Yes, I'm fine.” Meryl took a deep breath and hurried after the woman to a corner of the shop.

  "I meant to get rid of it. The broken blade makes it useless as an antique.” Martha looked through several boxes in the corner. “Now that I think about it, maybe I could use it as a display piece, maybe with a helmet or armor.” Martha's eyes twinkled with amusement. “Here it is,” she declared a moment later. Martha carefully extracted the broken weapon from the carton it had been stuffed into, and laid it on a nearby table.

  Meryl glanced above her head and switched on a lamp to better examine the blade and hilt. A white moonstone lay embedded in either end of the hand guard and a small turquoise had been centered.

  She needed to find one more thing ... Meryl examined the blade near the hilt, rubbing it gently. The marks she searched for were there. Her fingers slid over the small engraving directly beneath the hilt and she nodded with acceptance.

  Picking up the pin from where she had lain it on the table, Meryl placed it over the turquoise stone centered in the hilt. The stone was a match to the one in her pendant, the half Tristan now wore—or did he? She had no way of knowing. Small blue chips regained their clarity and brightened to their original color. Smaller yellow chips in the wizard's hat resembled stars. The wizard's beard, hair and bushy eyebrows turned a clear, clean, gray. His frustrated expression became easier to read.

  "My aunt gave me this pin for my sixteenth birthday.” Meryl handed the bright piece of jewelry to Martha. “If you look at the cap very carefully, in place of one of the stars, you'll find a tiny ‘M'."

  The stunned woman stared at Meryl then examined the pin closely. Sure enough. There was the tiny ‘M', front and center. “How did you do that?"

  "Truth to tell, I have no idea how it happened. Somehow, I knew if there were a proper connection between the two ... well, I just knew."

  "You know who this sword belonged to...” Martha's words were more statement than question. The answer would give it some value.

  As if reading her mind, Meryl replied, “Yes, Martha, I know who owned it. I have to wonder how it came to shatter like this.” She carefully picked up the broken weapon and held it out toward the older woman to take. “You may want to put it in a safe place. It could be more valuable than you think."

  "Yes, of course. We'll tend to it later. It's lunchtime, and I'm sure you must be hungry. I know I am.” The two women left the shop area and entered the living area. “The shop was once a double parlor and fairly easy to convert to a business area. Rather convenient for us."

  They continued their chatter, walking through the quiet house to the kitchen, where David was making sandwiches. Meryl heard a hiss and glanced up in the direction of the warning. She reached up to try and get a grip on him.

  "Dinks! Whatever are you doing up there? You naughty cat, you know better!” The black feline avoided his mistress's hands and jumped from the top of the bookshelf, knocking a book to the floor and scattering what looked to be photographs. Meryl knelt on the floor and quickly gathered up the pictures, hoping her sneaky pet hadn't done any damage.

  "I am so sorry, Martha. Dinks knows better than to go where he has no business ... to ... be...” her voice faded with the shock of what she saw.

  "No damage done, my dear. Your Dinks is behaving like a normal cat."

  Meryl stared at the photo in her hand, dumbfounded, then anger took over. “Why that miserable, conniving, underhanded...” It seemed today was a day of revelations. With each photo she glanced at, she found another word to describe the deception that had so carefully been played out. She glanced at the cat and shook a handful of photos at him, forgetting where she was. “So that's why you were up there and why you attached yourself to David.” For a moment, the cat looked distinctly pleased with himself. “And you can wipe that smug feline grin from your face,” she added. Dinks raised his head and stared at her with an ‘I-told-you-so’ expression, then turned and sauntered out of the room with a flippant twitch of his raised tail.

  "What was that dear?” Martha asked in response to Meryl's indistinct reaction.

  "Sorry, I was scolding Dinks for being where he shouldn't.” She followed the cat's retreating form, her anger relenting. She couldn't blame him for bringing the truth to her attention, but he didn't have to be so smug about it.

  Martha took the pictures and the album into the kitchen and set them on the table between her and Meryl. “Do you know him?” she asked her guest, noticing how Meryl stared at the family photo again. David held out a chair for each lady in turn, then took his own seat on the other side of the small table. He refrained from asking any questions.

  Meryl hesitated and took a deep breath to get her temper back under control before answering. She felt betrayed. Glancing up at the older couple, she wondered what must they be thinking of her and her strange behavior. “He looks very much like someone I know."

  "That's our son, Tristan. Tristan David McConnell."

  Meryl tried to stifle a laugh. This was too much of a coincidence. “Well, I guess that makes me your daughter-in-law. T-D-M,” she practically whispered. “Initials on the sword. I never knew his full name, but I teased him about the letters."

  "Tristan has always had an interest in medieval history, to the point where he joined some role playing organization. He did quite a bit of traveling to meet with other people. About two years ago, he went to one of those places and disappeared without a trace. The police found nothing to hint at foul play and said he'd probably turn up in a few days. He never did."

  Martha tried unsuccessfully to fight back tears of loss. David reached across the table and rested his hand over hers, giving it an affectionate little squeeze. “It's been difficult these two years, not knowing if
he's alive and safe, or...” he let the rest of his sentence trail off.

  Meryl bit her bottom lip, not sure what she should do. Seeing the way this couple worried about their son had cooled her temper considerably. Would the trouble that followed her affect them? She could tell them the truth and risk looking like a fool, or she could remain silent and let them wonder. Would they be safe if they knew? She made her choice and prayed it would be the right one. She couldn't let them go on wondering when she could ease their worry.

  "Do you believe in time travel?” she asked them. They looked at her oddly and she groaned to herself. This wasn't going to be easy.

  "Yes,” David replied. “We believe it's possible, although we've never met anyone else who has shown interest in it."

  "I can tell you, time travel is real. I've done it twice now and I'll do it again. Tristan is alive and well in Scotland...” Meryl hesitated briefly. “In the year 1306. At least he was well the last time I saw him, a few days ago."

  "Can you prove you're talking about my son?” Martha wanted to eliminate all existing doubt in her mind.

  Meryl thought a moment. “I don't know how I can do that, except to tell you he has long black hair he ties back with a strip of leather. His eyes are like two green emeralds and he has dimples. I think I fell for the dimples first.” She grinned at the small confession, then thought of something which would convince them. “He has a birthmark only his parents and wife would know about—or should be the only ones to know,” she added as an aside, “a heart shaped mole, low on his right hip.” Meryl turned bright pink, and glanced at David when he laughed. She sensed his delight at her blush and the color deepened with the knowledge.

  Meryl went on to tell them how she and Tristan had met, her journey to the early fourteenth century and everything she'd experienced so far. “Tristan and I handfasted at Beltane. He has the other half of my pendant. The stones in his sword are similar to my half of the pendant. His half holds the turquoise. For some reason, the pendant is important, although I've yet to learn in what way."