Awakening Her Soul to Destiny

by Deborah R Stigall

  Bacchas watched Kaitla silently, afraid to even hope that she might be able to free his daughter. Macvorn shook his head sadly, seating himself on a nearby rock to wait for Kaitla to give up. She was going to have to learn that she couldn’t always save everybody. Sometimes it had to be enough just to save yourself.

  As Kaitla paced back and forth, she wearily rubbed the side of her neck. A faint raised spot slightly behind one ear caught her attention and her fingers returned to investigate. Thoughtfully tracing the outline of the tiny oak leaf tattoo, a smile spread slowly across Kaitla’s face. Closing her eyes in concentration, she gently rubbed the tattoo, “Nissyen, I need your help. Please hear me!”

  “I’m here, Mistress Healer. Ye have need of me?” tiny Nissyen asked, as he hovered at Kaitla’s eye level. As he had promised when she first entered the realm, Nissyen had appeared immediately at Kaitla’s desperate call.

  “The child’s soul is trapped within this tree, Nissyen. Can you help free her?” Kaitla asked hopefully.

  Nissyen quickly flitted over and around the tree, examining it from every angle. Rubbing his tiny chin with one hand, Nissyen eyed the little tree thoughtfully, “Aye, m’lady, I simply must lead the wee lass to the doorway. She’s but lost her way,” he replied simply, smiling as Kaitla nodded excitedly.

  Nissyen disappeared in a silvery cloud. Soon the small oak began to tremble, the leaves rustling with the vibrations. Very faintly, they could all soon hear a small child’s laughter, overjoyed from at last being found. Gradually the laughter grew louder until suddenly, tiny Fina seemed to burst from the center of the tree, laughing to be caught up into the arms of her overjoyed father.

  “Da! The li’l bug hepped me out!” she gurgled with joy, shrieking with happiness as her father swung her in his arms.

  “Aye, lassie, I know…I know!” Bacchus laughed, tears streaming down his cold gray cheeks. Whirling her above him, Bacchus danced around the clearing with his daughter in his arms.

  Nissyen soon reappeared on Kaitla’s shoulder; “I am NOT a bug!” he whispered sharply in her ear. Disgruntled, he soon forgot the unintended insult as he watched the joyful reunion of father and daughter that had been made possible by his own intervention.

  “No, Nissyen, you’re a miracle worker,” smiled Kaitla as she carefully kissed the tiny man on top of his head.

  Blushing to the tips of his wings, Nissyen tucked his head, “Weel, the wee bairn didna’ belong trapped within the tree. ‘Tis not the proper place for a mountain child,” Nissyen grinned with pride as Kaitla wiped a tear of joy from her cheek.

  Returning to Nissyen and Kaitla, Bacchas gently placed Fina back on her feet. “I canna thank ye enough and will forever be indebted to ye both.” He carefully knelt at Kaitla’s feet and bowed his head solemnly, “I swear to ye upon the head of my restored child that the mountains shall forever serve ye. If ye are to ever need sanctuary, we will shield ye until the winds of time have worn us away.” Extending a finger for Nissyen to stand upon, Bacchas continued with a smile as he said, “That includes any wee bugs! I am most grateful to ye both!”

  As Bacchas pledged his loyalty, the surrounding rock walls quietly slid back to their resting-place beneath the ground. The path down the mountain was once again restored so the travelers could pass. Bacchas turned to Macvorn before leaving with Fina; “Ye would do well to learn from the Mistress Healer. Ye may pass through the mountains of this realm freely but ye shall have no protection.” Respectfully bowing once more to Kaitla, “Farewell, Mistress Healer. Keep safe.” Nodding with respect to Nissyen, “Farewell, Brave Nissyen.”

  Lifting Fina to his shoulders, Bacchas turned and disappeared into the mountain wall as his daughter waived happily goodbye from her perch upon her father’s shoulder.

  Nissyen eyed Macvorn with disfavor, silently wondering what had happened to Jared. Turning once more to Kaitla, he quickly bowed gallantly, “I must leave ye as well, m’lady. Call to me if ye should need me further.” Then without another word, he rapidly zipped away leaving a trail of silvery dust in his wake.

  Mounting their horses wearily, Kaitla and Macvorn resumed their journey in uncomfortable silence. Unable to bear the tension any longer, Macvorn finally spoke in his own defense, “It’s not that I dinna wish to help the wee lass…I simply felt there was no way to intervene!”

  “You gave up too quickly,” Kaitla rebuked quietly. She had sensed a cold streak running through Macvorn and his lack of concern over Fina had only confirmed it. If he expected to become a true friend of hers, he would have to learn to be a little more selfless.

  “Perhaps you’re simply not stubborn enough, Macvorn,” Kaitla mused idly. “My own stubbornness doesn’t always serve me so well. So, I’m not so sure I’d classify it as an asset all the time. But today it worked and for that I’m thankful.”

  “It seems wee Nissyen may be right…perhaps I can learn from ye, Lass,” Macvorn noted quietly. “I shall do better in the future, Kaitla…I promise ye.” Lightly scanning his thoughts as he spoke, Kaitla was mildly surprised at his sincerity.

  “Just keep Etain’s words in mind,” Kaitla instructed seriously, “Things are not always what they seem.”

  Chapter X

  Jared and Hobart materialized in the middle of Jared’s private chambers within Cuchailard Keep. Sighing deeply as he looked around the room, Jared noticed it seemed much colder then it had before…but maybe that was just because Kaitla was no longer with him. Running his hands through his dark hair, he eyed Hobart sadly, “Well, auld man, we’re home,” he announced bleakly as his eyes roamed restlessly around the room.

  “Aye, Laddie, that we are,” Hobart agreed quietly. “I believe I’ll have a look about ta’ see that the place is in order.” He shuffled slowly to the door, his head downcast at his godson’s unhappiness.

  “Suit yourself, man, ye ken why we were sent here as well as I.” Jared sullenly walked to the window, staring through the glass with sightless eyes.

  Hobart sighed, as he watched his godson pining at the window. He wished there were some way that he could make the Laird see what a good lad Jared was. Hobart had feared Laird Caymber would never grant permission for his daughter to marry a descendant of Ravon. He had hoped, though, the Laird might overlook the lineage when he saw how Kaitla felt toward Jared. There was no doubt in old Hobart’s mind that the two were destined to be together…there was just too much emotion and fire between the two for it to be any other way. But he realized these hopes were in vain when he learned of Jared’s orders to travel alone to Cuchailard Keep. “Perhaps ye’d best try an’ forget the lass,” he offered quietly to Jared’s bowed head. As Jared’s head snapped around to face him, he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

  Eyes narrowed to a deadly glare, Jared turned from the window. “Perhaps ye’d best check the Keep, auld man,” he snapped coldly in reply.

  Head dropped in dismay; Hobart left the room, softly closing the door behind him. Hearing the latch click, Jared instantly felt guilty at the harsh tone he’d taken with Hobart. God knows it wasn’t the old man’s fault. But it wasn’t his fault either. He had no control over who his grandsire was, no more then he could control how much he loved Kaitla. When she arrived in a week’s time, surely the Laird would listen to them and allow their marriage.

  “But what if after a week with Macvorn, she no longer wants to wed ye?” asked the tiny voice of uncertainty inside his heart. “After all, ye did lie to her. D’ye think she’ll be able to ever forget that?” Covering his ears and closing his eyes, Jared shook his head to still the thoughts.

  “Kaitla, ye’ve made me daft with the wantin’ of ye,” Jared softly moaned to himself, as he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. A light tap at the door interrupted his internal struggle, “Enter,” Jared grudgingly called, turning from the cool comfort of the window. The door opened, slowly revealing a familiar and unexpected face.

  “Elsbet!” Jared’s eyes widened, hi
s mouth dropping open in surprise. “What are ye doing here?!” he asked bluntly, causing Elsbet’s welcoming smile to slowly fade from her face.

  Brows raised at Jared’s greeting, Elsbet shook her head with aggravation. “I dinna want to see ye here alone, Jared. Ye know how I feel for ye,” she murmured softly, as she sauntered across the room to place a hand to Jared’s cheek.

  Gently removing her hand and taking a step back from her, Jared replied coldly, “And ye know where my heart lies.”

  “Aye, but ye canna blame me for tryin’,” she whispered. Smiling sadly, Elsbet dropped her hand to her side. “At least I can keep ye company until everyone arrives.”

  Studying her intently, Jared asked, “How did ye come ta’ be here so quickly, Elsbet? Etain transported Hobart and m’self….it’s at least a hard three-day ride on a fast horse over land.” Scowling, Jared impatiently waited to hear her answer. Something about her presence here was just not right.

  Turning away from Jared to avoid his piercing gaze, “Macvorn was kind enough to send me,” she replied, “He didna’ want ye to be lonely.” Elsbet spoke softly, turning back to face Jared, glancing up through her thick dark lashes to see his reaction to her words. She slowly moved closer, positioning herself seductively within reach, twisting her torso to an inviting display of her cleavage.

  Jared’s face slowly turned a brilliant crimson as he clenched his fists in rage, “The bastard! I know damn well it wasna’ my loneliness the rogue was thinking of!” Ignoring Elsbet’s alluring display, Jared strode to the door, nearly pulling it off the hinges as he flung it open. “I think it’d be best for ye to return to your lands, Elsbet. This conniving isna’ like ye.”

  “But Jared, ye canna send me away!” she pouted. “I have no one to ride with me. It wouldna’ be safe for me to travel alone, not as angry as Ravon is…anyone might fall victim to his evil whims,” Elsbet pleaded relentlessly. Seemingly genuine fear tinged her every word.

  “I canna transport ye, I dinna have the powers to do so.” Jared glared at her with contempt, “I guess ye must stay but only until I can find enough clansmen to properly protect ye on yer journey home. For now just leave me be for awhile, I canna bear the sight of ye and the reminder of the calculatin’ bastard that sent ye!” Jared stood grimly at the door, waiting to close it firmly behind Elsbet.

  Just before passing through the doorway, Elsbet kissed Jared firmly, pressing her body tightly against his. “I love ye, Jared. ‘Twould be so much easier if ye’d but try to love me back.” Then was out the doorway and down the long corridor before Jared could react.

  Wiping the kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand, Jared winced, “Damn the woman! She’s as devious as Macvorn. The sooner I get the wench from this place the better!” Jared strode down the hallway, bellowing for Hobart as he went. He had to find out how many clansmen were presently stationed in the Keep. His boots echoed down the long hallway, the wood plank flooring and high stone walls lending to the hollow acoustics. The flaming sconces cast eerie shadows along the walls and floor, magnifying the sense of emptiness even further.

  Traveling down the rear stairway, Jared turned at the landing and entered the huge kitchen of the Keep. If anyone would know the current situation of the Keep, it would be Mistress Frann. Mistress Frann had been the cook and chief matron at Cuchailard Keep for as long as Jared could remember. Standing at the long wooden counter, the huge motherly woman was currently elbow deep in bread dough. “Sit ye down at the table, lad, and I’ll carve ye a piece o’me best chicken pie,” Mistress Frann instructed without turning from the dough. She had the sight and was gifted in many of the ways; hence, nothing in Cuchailard Keep escaped the notice of Mistress Frann.

  Obediently seating himself at the long worktable, Jared waited expectantly, “Mistress Frann, will ye no sit and join me?” Jared knew from past experience there was no sense in attempting to rush Mistress Frann. She did things in her own good time and if anyone tried to push her, she’d slow to a screeching halt. The best way to gather information from the kindly matron was to sit in her kitchen, enjoy her delicious food, and patiently wait until she felt so inclined to cooperate.

  “Are ye daft, lad? D’ye think I have nothing more to do wi’me time then to loll about the kitchen and idly chat wi’ye?” she asked in a mock scolding tone. Jared had always been one of her favorites among the Keep and she was pleased that he’d finally sought her council. She turned from the dough, deftly wiping her hands on the white apron covering her massive body. Cocking her head to one side, she studied Jared with a twinkle in her eye, “I’ve missed ye, laddie, and glad ye’ve finally returned ta’ home.” Waddling gracefully to a stool at the worktable, Mistress Frann plopped her ample body down. Glancing over to the work counter, she eyed two stoneware mugs and a small jug of cider, still cold from the spring. At her silent bidding, the mugs and cider obediently traveled from the countertop to the table, coming to rest directly in front of Mistress Frann. Directing her gaze to the huge cooking hearth, the cast iron door to the built-in oven slowly opened, revealing her famous chicken pie within. Soon the pie, carving knife, two plates and silverware were also resting within easy reach of the plump hostess. Slicing a generous helping of chicken pie onto each plate, Mistress Frann plopped one of the steaming dishes in front of Jared, “Now tell Frannie why ye’ve returned to the Keep wi’out the one ye love.”

  “Ach, Mistress Frann, everything’s become so complicated,” Jared lamented as he forked a tender piece of chicken pie, mouth watering from the rich aroma rising from the plate.

  “Life usually is, Jared. Did Etain no’ teach ye that?” Frann cocked one eyebrow at Jared as she filled the mugs with the sparkling cold cider.

  Setting his fork on his plate, Jared looked up at Mistress Frann with hopeless eyes, “Laird Caymber doesna’ wish for his daughter to wed the grandson of Ravon.” Jared took a deep draught of the cider, then sat staring forelornly into the stoneware mug, “He has decided to give her to Macvorn even though he knows she doesna’ love him.”

  Finishing the forkful of chicken she’d just popped into her mouth, Frann wrinkled her forehead in concentration, “Has Caymber forgotten what he went through with Kaitla’s mother?” she asked Jared, with a frown. Shaking her head slowly in disbelief, she continued before he could answer, “I canna believe he’d force the lass to wed someone she doesna’ love.” Setting down her fork, she studied Jared carefully. “What else is it, lad…out with it,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.

  “Kaitla’s with Macvorn now. I’m sore afraid of what will happen along the way,” Jared muttered. Dropping his own fork to his empty plate and resting his head in his hands.

  Patting his arm with her pudgy hand, Mistress Frann smiled at Jared consolingly, “If the lass truly loves ye, if yer love is destined to be, then there’s not a thing ta’ fret about, laddie.” Raising both eyebrows, Mistress Frann silently directed the empty plates and silverware to relocate to the basin full of wash water by the window. Once there, the dishes immediately scrubbed themselves clean and returned obediently to their designated cabinets. Pouring them each another mug full of cider, she continued, “Ye must have faith in yer love.”

  Wriggling uncomfortably on his own stool, Jared glanced up at Frann from his mug, “Aye, but ‘tis a bit more complicated, Frann.” Avoiding her gaze, Jared quickly confessed to his lies about his relationship with Elsbet and what had happened when the truth came out.

  Shaking her head and clucking her tongue in disapproval, Mistress Frann scowled at Jared, “I canna believe ye lied to her Jared. Ye know better!” Shaking a finger in his face, “Ye had the same problem as a child. How many times did I take the wooden spoon to yer behind for the tellin’ of tales?”

  “Aye, I remember each and every swat, Mistress! But I didna’ wish to hurt the lass, I was just trying to give her more time ta’ know me before I told her everything. She didna’ trust anyone when we first met,” Jared lamely defended, silently wond
ering if this trip to the kitchen had been so wise after all.

  Pushing her body from the table, Mistress Frann returned to the dough on the work counter shaking her head at Jared’s ignorance. “Ye wanted the lass to trust ye, so ye lied to her. That makes no sense, Jared,” she observed wryly.

  Returning his head to his hands, he mumbled, “Dinna ye think I’ve learned that by now?”

  Hands on her ample hips, Mistress Frann’s voice softened, as she eyed the miserable lad at the table. “Aye, well…it all worked out anyway, the lass did forgive ye; did she not?” she prodded gently.

  Jared took a long drink of cider, then carefully placed the mug back on the table, “She forgave me. But what will she think when she arrives and Elsbet is here?” he asked bleakly. Jared glared at Frann as he continued, “Macvorn sent Elsbet here to drive Kaitla away from me. The bastard knows that is the weakness in our relationship, he merely has ta’ feed Kaitla’s insecurities to make the breach widen.”

  Frann’s eyes narrowed as she stroked her chin thoughtfully, “Ahh, so that’s why Lady Elsbet appeared without warnin’.” She’d wondered how the unaccompanied young lass had arrived so quickly to Cuchailard Keep. This time of year, the traveling tents of Clan Gwynedd were always at least a three-day ride away. The fact that Lady Elsbet had also arrived alone had also seemed quite strange. No woman had traveled alone in the realm since Ravon had committed his first rape, escaping punishment by the Council on some technicality. Once he’d successfully gotten away with the first crime, it had been quite easy to continue to prey upon helpless women. “How d’ye mean to send her away, Jared? No one here has the power to transport the wee vixen back to her home.”

  Eyeing Frann hopefully, Jared explained, “That’s why I came in search of ye, Mistress Frann. How many clansmen have we currently at the Keep?”