by Katy Baker
“Aye,” he said reluctantly.
“What does it mean?”
His expression hardened. “It means the Disinherited have been here.”
“I don’t understand. Surely you don’t believe what they said about witchcraft ruining their crops?”
His gaze slid to hers and away again. “Not witchcraft,” he said softly. “Something else.”
“The weather,” Sophie said. “It’s the weather that’s ruined their crops. That’s all.”
“Aye. If ye like.”
She could tell that he didn’t believe this but she let the matter drop. The rain had not abated and she could feel icy drops dripping down the back of her neck. Her hair stuck to her face and the cloak designed to keep her dry had failed miserably, becoming a heavy, cumbersome shroud.
With a sigh, she turned to face the front, wishing fervently that they would round a bend and come in sight of a pub with welcoming light spilling through the windows and the smell of cooking food wafting through the air.
They didn’t. All that met Sophie’s pleading gaze was miles and miles of rain swept wilderness.
Pulling the sodden cloak tighter, she asked herself again why she’d ever thought it a good idea to come to Scotland.
CALLUM SAT STRAIGHT-backed and tense, scanning the terrain as they rode. There was no sign of any other living thing. Even so, Callum felt unseen eyes watching.
Dinna be ridiculous, he told himself, even if they had been here, they would be long gone by now.
Was it coincidence that the Disinherited had been at the farm before him? Of course it wasn’t. They were getting closer—and he was failing. Failing in his duty as head of the Order. Failing to protect his people, failing to discover what the Disinherited were up to. Failing at living up to the example of his forebears.
Curse it, he growled silently. Why did this have to happen in my time? Why did this have to come to me?
He had been raised as a warrior. A leader. His mother and father had both been members of the Order and had dedicated their lives to their vow. They expected their only son to do the same.
But he’d never realized it would be so lonely. When his parents had died and he’d assumed his father’s place at Dun Saith, he’d finally begun to realize what toll his vow would take. Only with the other members of the Order could he be completely himself and they were so scattered throughout the Highlands that their meetings were infrequent and always in secret.
And he’d remained unmarried. A man in his position had had plenty of offers over the years—plenty of fathers approaching him to discuss their daughters. Callum had refused them all. He would not drag any woman into this life, when the only bridal gift he could offer her was one of lies and uncertainty.
The horse snorted, shying away from a pothole in the road, snapping Callum out of his gloomy thoughts. Sophie huddled into her cloak, saying not a word. A faint warmth spread into his chest from where she rested against him and he could smell her hair.
How did she fit into all of this? She was another puzzle he had to figure out. But he was glad to have her with him. Her presence lightened his mood and the sensation of her body resting against his made him feel warmer than he had a right to in this harsh weather.
Yet, for all that, they had not made the progress he’d hoped and he realized that they would not make it back to Dun Saith tonight. An early dusk was starting to fall, made gloomier by the low-hanging clouds and relentless rain. They would have to find somewhere to camp.
He didn’t like the thought of staying out in the open one bit, not now he knew his enemies were close. Would they take this chance to come upon him in the night? How could he protect Sophie if that happened?
A growl of frustration formed in his throat. They had only one option.
He pulled the horse to an abrupt halt. Startled by the movement, Sophie stirred, turning her head to regard him. Her eyes looked huge in her face, two bright points of blue in the gloom.
“What’s wrong?”
“We willnae make it to Dun Saith tonight. We will have to find a place to camp.”
Sophie peered around at the empty landscape. “Out here?”
“Aye. Out here.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Fabulous.”
Callum stood in the stirrups, turning his head to left and right, searching for what he needed. The rain had turned so heavy that he could see nothing beyond a few hundred yards in each direction. His frown deepened. There was one way to find what he needed but he was reluctant to do it. If he did, he would risk the Disinherited sensing him. But one look at Sophie’s pale face and cold-chapped lips, decided him.
He closed his eyes and whispered a few words under his breath, words in a language rarely spoken. In response, the tattoo on the inside of his wrist began to throb with heat. His senses heightened and he became aware of everything around him in minute detail: the birds huddled in the sparse tree cover, the tiny rodents hiding in the heather. Then, to the east, he sensed...something. It pulled at him like a beacon.
He dropped back into the saddle and pulled the horse around in that direction, nudging the beast into motion. They splashed through a stream and began winding up a hill thick with bracken. The closer they got to the summit, the stronger the pull became, until at last they crested the brow and came in sight of what he’d been searching for.
A ring of standing stones met his gaze. They reared out of the earth like fingers, tall and straight, glistening in the rain. The heather and bracken that cloaked the hill’s summit did not encroach within the circle, leaving the inside a clear bowl carpeted with fresh spring grass and dotted with flowers.
He spoke a few words under his breath and the burning of his tattoo faded. He only hoped the Disinherited had not felt that tiny manifestation of his vow. He swung to the ground and then helped Sophie to dismount.
“Oh my,” she said, gazing at the stones. “Look at this place.” She padded up to one of the menhirs, craning her head back to study its height. “In my time, this place would be awash with tourists. It’s in such good condition, like it was built yesterday.”
“An illusion,” Callum answered, taking the horse’s reins and leading him towards the circle. “It is ancient, dating from the founding of Alba.”
“Probably built by Neolithic people then.”
He shook his head. “Not built by people at all. Built by the Fae.”
She startled a little at this, staring at him. As he passed within the circle’s boundary Callum felt a slight wash of warm air brush over his skin, indicating the sanctuary had been activated. Good. His enemies could not find them whilst they remained within its protection.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me the Fae have done this too?” Sophie said, pointing at the sky. Her voice was heavy with skepticism.
Callum glanced up. The rain had stopped and the clouds above were breaking apart to reveal a blue, early evening sky.
He made no reply. She would not like the answer, even though she’d stumbled on it inadvertently. It was not a change in the weather she saw, but the power of the Fae. If she stepped outside this circle, the storm would likely be raging as wild as ever. Within this sanctuary, the will of the Fae held sway and even the elements obeyed them.
Turning away, he took care of the horse, lifting off the saddle and saddlebags and laying them by one of the stones whilst Sophie began inspecting the circle. She folded onto her knees, examining the flowers.
“Common spotted orchids,” she said, indicating the flowers that filled the circle. “They’re everywhere.”
“Aye,” he replied, taking off the horse’s bridle and tying on a nosebag. “They grow all over sites like these. We call them Fairy Tongues.”
“My old lecturers would give their back teeth to be able to study the flora of this untouched landscape.”
“That may be but we have more pressing concerns,” Callum said. “Like getting dry and warm before we freeze to death. I’ll start a fire.”
He gathered some deadwood from outside the circle and piled it in the center of the ring of stones. The wood was damp and would no doubt give off more smoke than heat but there was little he could do about that. Taking his flint and tinder from the saddlebag he struck a spark and soon had a smoky fire burning.
Sophie left her examination of the orchids and came over, sitting close to the fire and holding her hands out to the blaze gratefully. She took off her wet cloak and laid it out to dry. Callum seated himself cross-legged on the ground opposite her and for a while neither spoke. The only sound was the crackle of the flames and the sound of the horse chomping on his nosebag.
“How do you know we’ll be safe here?” Sophie said after a while.
He hesitated, wondering how much he could tell her. “Ye will just have to trust me. Whilst inside this circle, the Disinherited canna find us. I want yer word ye willnae step outside of its boundary,” he said.
“Why?”
“Yer word, Sophie.”
She threw up her hands. “Fine! I promise.”
He reached over to the saddlebag, pulled out some strips of dried meat and a loaf of bread and tossed half over to her. “Eat.”
She caught the food and began chewing mechanically. She stared into the fire, seemingly lost in thought. Callum didn’t like the awkward silence that had settled between them.
“Tell me about yer time,” he said quietly.
THE QUESTION CAUGHT Sophie off guard. She glanced up to find Callum studying her.
“My time?” she said. “Where do I even begin?” She thought of her life back in the twenty-first century, a life of rent checks and the 9-5, of struggling to find enough clients to keep her business afloat. A life of car repayments and TV dinners and rushing, rushing, rushing.
“It’s...busy,” she said lamely. “There are people, lots more people, and cars and trains and airplanes and shops and restaurants and cinemas. It’s...”
Empty, the thought suddenly bloomed in her mind. Even though it’s so busy.
She blinked, shocked at the thought. Where had that come from? But the more she thought about it, the more she was surprised to discover it was true. Back home she’d always had a nagging feeling that she was going through the motions of life but somehow missing the point of it all. Since she’d come here...
I’ve been terrified out of my wits, she thought. Attacked by a drunken lecher, been dragged wet and freezing through the wilderness and been threatened by a bunch of angry farmers. But I’ve felt something, something I’ve not felt before.
Her eyes snapped to Callum seated across the fire, watching her with his sandy hair curling onto his shoulders and firelight dancing in his hazel eyes.
I’ve felt alive, she realized. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt truly, wholly alive.
“I dinna know what half those things ye mentioned are,” Callum said after a moment. “And I’m not sure it would be wise to learn. Ye know, when I was a lad my parents took me to Edinburgh and I thought I’d never seen anywhere so grand. I was so in awe that I thought it must be the most spectacular place in all the world. Then I visited Rome and realized how wrong I’d been.” He smiled wistfully.
“Your parents?” she asked. “Will they be waiting for you when we get to your home?”
A quick look of pain crossed his face. “Nay, lass. They’ve been gone five years now. Taken by the lung fever.”
“I’m sorry.”
He waved away her apology. “It’s an old pain. One I’ve learned to live with.”
She plucked at the hem of her dress. She felt an urge to move closer to him. Her eyes drifted to his arms and she wondered what it would be like to have them wrapped around her, holding her tight.
He was watching her again and heat flowered in her belly. She cast around for something to say. “I...um...what’s your horse called?” she blurted.
“My horse?”
“Yes. You warrior types all have big warhorses with impressive names like Thunder or Fury don’t you?”
Callum laughed. “Do we? I must have missed that lesson. My horse’s name is Tiny.”
“Tiny?” she said with an incredulous laugh. “But he’s huge!”
“What can I say?” Callum replied with a grin. “I was nine when I got him and he was but a foal—and a runt at that. Coming up with impressive names wasnae my strong point.”
Sophie glanced from him to the horse and back again. Then she burst out laughing. It blew through her like a gale, sweeping away her gloom. It felt good to hear Callum laugh in response. It felt good being here...with him.
Her laughter died away and she found herself staring at him. He stared right back and the look in his eyes made her heart flutter. Seeming to realize he was staring, Callum shifted, clearing his throat.
“It’s getting late. Mayhap ye should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch. Remember what I said: dinna leave the sanctuary.” He climbed to his feet and walked over to the edge of the circle.
Sophie watched him go. She resisted the urge to get up and go after him. He was right. It was getting late and she was exhausted. Closing her eyes, she lay down on the soft grass and stared into the fire.
In only moments her eyes drifted closed and she slept.
“Wake up, child of time. We would speak with ye.”
Sophie awoke with a start. She jerked upright, looking around wildly. Night had fallen and the only light came from the dim embers of the smoldering campfire. The circle of standing stones were tall, flickering shadows on the edges of her vision.
Callum sat slumped against one of them, eyes closed, naked sword laid across his knees.
Sophie blinked. If Callum was asleep, then who had spoken?
She turned, gazing this way and that, but could see nothing beyond the reach of the firelight.
You were dreaming, she told herself. Go back to sleep.
She began to lie back down but the voice spoke again. “Come. We would speak with ye.”
She whipped round, heart suddenly hammering. “Who said that?”
On the other side of the clearing, Callum didn’t stir. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept soundly. Surely he’d heard the voice?
She climbed to her feet and took a few steps towards him but halted as the voice spoke again.
“He willnae hear ye. He lies wrapped in his own dreams. This isnae for him.”
The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, as though it flowered in her head rather than being spoken out loud.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Ye know who we are. Come. There is no need to be afraid.”
To her surprise, Sophie found that she wasn’t afraid. There was something about that voice...something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It sounded familiar, like a favorite song heard from far away. Before she knew it, she’d taken a step forward.
“That’s it,” the voice said. “Closer, now. Closer.”
She reached the edge of the circle and hesitated. Callum’s warning whispered in her mind. Dinna leave the protection of the stones.
“Come, we will show ye who ye are.”
She felt a tug, a pull like a magnet. She took a step and found herself outside the ring of stones.
Wind and rain slammed into her. She was drenched in seconds, her hair whipping around her face. And yet she did not feel cold. She felt warm and light, as though floating. In the distance, she saw a faint light.
“This way,” said the voice. “We will show ye.”
She walked forward, her feet crunching in the wet heather, trusting to the light to guide her. Then suddenly the surrounding landscape fell away and she found herself standing in a circular room lit with torches. For some reason, this did not surprise her.
Several men and women sat in a circle. They bore grim expressions and each was armed. They wore a plaid that sparked a hint of recognition in Sophie although she couldn’t quite place it. Around each neck hung a pewter disk.
“What we do
here tonight will bind us all forever,” said a dark-haired man, looking around at them all sternly. “It will bind us and our offspring down through the generations, down through the long years of history. There will be no escaping it.”
They nodded solemnly and the dark-haired man looked at them each in turn before giving a nod of satisfaction. “Then let us begin.”
Sophie strained forward, trying to see more clearly. There was something familiar about these people. She was sure she knew them, even though she’d never met them before. Something deep inside, some primal instinct recognized this scene. If she could only get closer...
“Sophie! Sophie, wake up!”
Cold and wind and rain suddenly crashed into her. She gasped at the shock of it, her nose and ears going instantly numb. She blinked to find herself lying on her back in the wet heather, damp and cold soaking through to her skin.
A figure knelt beside her and it took a moment for her to recognize Callum through the lashing storm.
“What...what...?” she croaked.
“Ye were sleep walking,” he said. “I awoke and found ye gone then spotted ye walking towards the marshes before ye suddenly collapsed. Lord, Sophie, ye are freezing!”
He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into his arms. Without waiting for a response, he turned and began hurrying back towards the stone circle. Sophie looked over her shoulder, certain she would see the torch-lit room and the circle of people, but all she saw was rain-lashed darkness.
We will show ye who ye are...
Let us begin...
She concentrated, trying to remember what she’d seen but it was already starting to slip out of reach as dreams do.
It wasn’t a dream, she thought. It was... it was...
And then Callum carried her into the stone circle and a warm breeze washed against her skin, obliterating all memory of what she’d seen. She suddenly felt tired. So tired.
Callum laid her down by the fire and stoked it, coaxing it into bright, blazing life.
“Sleep,” he told her. “I will keep watch and this time I willnae fall asleep.”
As she fell into slumber, the last thing she saw was the firelight dancing in his eyes.
