by Jane Stain
His face became stricken, and he struggled violently with the chains that bound him. "What’s the matter? Is the hoose under attack?"
Nadia shook her head furiously, saying more to the halberd than to him, “Nay, yer life is na in danger.”
He stopped struggling with his chains, to her immense relief. She couldn’t bear to think what Tahra would do to him if he were found loose in the house right now. She knew he didn’t think there was enough juice in him and her and the halberd to get them safely away from here after freeing him from his chains, or he would have done so earlier, instead of just making the book disappear.
Sighing with relief that he wasn’t going to break free and rush upstairs to be killed, she rushed to explain in the barest whisper what had to be done. "Nay, naught o’ the sort. But Tahra’s gaun'ae kill Boisil unless I return the book tae her now, sae give it tae me." She bent down and reached her hands out under the door, ready for him to have the halberd slide the book back to her.
“Ye ken it does na work this way,” he said to her with that same resolve in his voice.
What was he talking about? She stood and fixed her eyes on his, pleading with him. "She's gaun'ae kill him!"
“It ainly works if some aught wull kill me,” he reminded her.
Oh no. He was right. “We hae tae convince it ye wull be kilt, then,” she insisted.
Puzzlingly, Ciaran’s face filled with sympathy for her, but he hardened it into resolve. "Nay, Nadia. The druid child’s lack o’ that book wull save thousands o’ lives, and besides, ye canna trust her tae keep her word. She is devious and cunning. Gae and find a hiding place tae bide in till I am freed. The man’s blood is on her hands, ’tis na on yers."
As he spoke, her determination to give the book back slowly drained away. He was right. More to herself than to Ciaran, she whispered, "Tahra must hae reached fifty by now anyway." She wanted to argue, but it wouldn't do to cause Ciaran any more anguish than he already was in.
His eyes were blackened and his raw back pulled away from the wood behind him.
She gave him a pained smile and then went back up the stairs to the laundry room to hide.
Her new loyal friends all welcomed her with grimacing smiles.
But after a short while, Sorcha stood up and let go of her white-knuckled hold on the wash bin. “We hae tae gae back tae oor duties, afore we are sorely missed and someone decides tae punish us.” With that, she calmly walked to the door, opened it, and left, not quite closing it behind her.
Mairee looked at Nadia for her reaction.
Nadia nodded and got up as well. “Ye canna fault her reasoning. Aye, we must gae back tae oor duties.”
They all left the washing room together and headed for the kitchen, which was surprisingly in the same shape as when Nadia had passed through earlier, with several of the wives straining the curds from the whey. The pots and pans once more hung from a rack by the fireplace.
Nadia went up to the women who were curding. “Show me how ye dae this here.”
Later that evening, Nadia was sent out into the stableyard with a bag of vegetable peelings and scraps from the supper trays. She was busy feeding them to the chickens when she glanced up toward Eoin’s tree, hoping to see it changed. It hadn't been, and she was horrified by the site of a man's charred body hanging on a pike by the front gate.
It was a nightmare, this cursed war axe. Tightly held against him as it was by his belt, it fed images into Ciaran’s mind, images and sounds of the horror happening in the house and stableyard above.
Punctuated by the halberd’s joyful song of fighting lust, Ciaran saw the whole thing: Tahra torturing the servant for information on where her book was. The servant begging and swearing it wasn't him who took it. Tahra having no mercy. Tahra tying the man to a stake in the stableyard, piling hay and wood around him, and burning the man alive in front of the clan. It was a warning, she explained. This was what happened to those who betrayed her.
Ciaran's arms and legs were shackled, so he drew in his belly as far as he could, trying to get the halberd to fall to the floor, away from him. It didn’t budge, even though it should have. It was thinner than the book. The book should have stayed and allowed the halberd to slip away from him. Both stayed put.
The cursed halberd held such sway over him that he wasn’t sure he could cast it aside even if he had the use of his limbs. He should have taken heed of Eoin’s warning, should have noted the gloves his cousin wore to handle it. Should have cast it aside while he still could. Should have buried it like the druids had told Eoin would be best.
16
Ciaran hadn’t expected to sleep, but he awoke to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs into the dank smelly basement. Every muscle in his body ached from standing for so long, and he feared for Nadia. Was she safe? Much as he wished it weren't, the halberd disguised as walking stick was firmly in place in his belt.
It was the two men who had brought him down here the night before, and they cheerfully unlocked his cell door and came in, bustling about unlocking his shackles. "Ye hae been chosen tae gae with Tahra tae help her. 'Tis a great honor. Ye should be proud."
That was a lie, of course. Anyone ‘helping’ her would be on either end of the sacrifice needed to regain her dark magic. Now he was glad he still had the halberd. We would see who was going to be the sacrifice.
The men took him up the stairs, waited while he ate some bread and cheese, and even took him into the laundry room, saying, "Wash yerself. Ye hae tae ride with us, and ye smell like the devil."
It was tempting to leave himself smelling that way, but in truth he couldn't stand the smell of himself either. So he dropped his kilt, took off his boots, gripped the book and his ‘walking stick’ firmly in one hand, and climbed naked into one of the washtubs. The water was passable tepid, not as cold as he feared, and he ducked under and got his hair wet, even grabbed some soap and washed the smelliest parts of him before getting out and drying off with some linen someone had conveniently left there.
Feeling refreshed, he dressed, stuffed the book back into his belt, and used the ‘walking stick’ to limp back out into the hallway. He was all smiles until they took him through the yard toward the stable and he saw the wagonful of milkmaids and a few male servants. Nadia was among them. Furthermore, she was seated as far in front of the wagon as she could get, right behind the driver. Even if he ran to her right now, she was too high up. There was no way to get close enough to speak into her mind, let alone have the halberd take her away to safety.
Nadia smiled at him and waved, happy to see him.
With his eyes and his facial expression, he tried to show her what he was thinking —that as soon as they were away from the Cameron fortress, she should jump out of the wagon and run to him.
She clearly had been expecting him to greet her, because doubt now filled her eyes.
Her doubt made his heart ache, so he pushed down the desperation he felt at knowing it would be difficult to get her out of this situation. All he let show on his face was his love for her.
She smiled, lighting up her face like the sun when it comes out of the cloudy sky over a meadow full of flowers.
Tahra and a dozen warriors rode out of the stable. Ruadh was one of them, and he reached down and pulled ‘Bixby’ up behind him, nodding at the two Cameron men who had gotten him from the dungeon, who went into the stable and also came out on horseback. The horses took the lead, and the wagon followed behind as they rode out the gate, down the narrow space between the two lochs, and into the forest.
"Some call the place we gae tae Fae Wood," Ruadh told ‘Bixby’ as they rode. "Many will na enter it, afeared o’ being tricked by the faeries."
This barely registered on Ciaran's thinking. Ruadh nattered on, and Ciaran was grateful for his friendliness, but he was desperate to get Nadia away from the druid child.
When they had been riding along a seldom-used road through the forest for several hours, the horses slowed to a stop ami
d the trees and allowed the wagon to catch up. Provisions were taken from the wagon and passed around. Everyone ate smoked deer and bread. The horses were watered from a nearby stream and given free rein to eat the delicate grass that grew just off the road.
These stops were not frequent, but they happened often enough to get Ciaran’s hopes up. Every time those on horseback drew close to the wagon, Ciaran prayed that Ruadh would choose to go over on the side where Nadia was, close enough so that he could use the halberd to take her away.
It was on the tip of his tongue, one of those times, to ask Ruadh to go on her side of the wagon. But the instant he opened his mouth to say something, Ruadh clasped forearms with one of the other Camerons, smiling and jesting while people waited in the wagon. These warriors had to know why the milkmaids were along.
Ciaran would wait for his chance. Finally, he saw it coming.
Everyone had stopped once more. Tahra and her first man were discussing where they should stop for the night. Ruadh was pulling up beside the wagon on Nadia’s side to take some water the wagon driver was offering him.
Ciaran knew he would only have the amount of time it took for Ruadh to drink. He met eyes with Nadia and let his determination show on his face and pleading with her to stay put, to be ready.
Understanding showed on her face, and she edged a little closer to the side of the wagon, also closer to him.
Up at the front of the party, Tahra whirled her horse around, demanding, “Everyone, follow me!”
Everyone did, of course. Ruadh responded immediately, turning their horse and speeding away from Nadia.
Ciaran cursed himself. Why hadn’t he listened to his instincts before? He should have wished the halberd would take them away to safety when Eoin and Baltair refused to take the two of them back to Murray camp. Failing that, he could have grabbed Nadia and whisked her away before he got shackled.
Why had he consented to the plan of her taking this accursed book? The halberd had claimed his life now, changing his fate, so what did it matter what the book said would happen to him? It wouldn’t now be true, anyway.
Ruadh stopped with all the other warriors. This time, instead of waiting for the wagon, he dismounted and nodded to ‘Bixby’ to do the same. "There is na room for all the servants tae sleep in the wagon, ye ken, sae some o’ ye wull be sleeping under it."
Ciaran gave Ruadh an inquisitive look. "I—"
Hints of sympathy came into Ruadh's eyes.
Before the man could say anything, the same two Cameron men who had brought Bixby up from the dungeon appeared, taking Bixby by either hand and leading him gruffly away.
One of them said over his shoulder, "Ye are tae soft, man."
The other spat, then looked at Ruadh and away.
But Ciaran's heart was eased. These two ruffians were not going toward the wagon, where they might do harm to Nadia. No, instead they were going up the nearby hill.
They bound ‘Bixby’s hands together behind him, pushed him over on his side to the ground, bound his ankles together, and shoved him under the bushes, apparently to spend the night. Then they walked away laughing with their kilts bouncing at every scornful step.
Ciaran waited there in the darkness and discomfort for food to be brought, but it never was. He heard them all laughing and joking, then finally singing around the fire, so he knew they were getting food.
How was Nadia faring? Did they feed her? He didn't hear any screaming or crying, so at least they weren't mistreating her or the other lasses.
He was uncomfortable and worried. There was no way he could sleep lying here on the cold earth with his hands bound so tightly behind him.
The Cameron men would get what they had coming. He had only to bide his time until they were all asleep, full of ale and comfortable around their fire.
Once all the sounds had died away and even the fire crackling had stopped, he thought about the sacrifice that was sure to come and how he was no doubt part of it. Otherwise, why had they tied him up?
As soon as he thought of his life being threatened, he thought of the most logical thing that could be done to help save him.
The leather thongs that tied his arms and his ankles dissolved.
He was free. Only a small amount of strength had drained from him, so he was confident he would be able to get Nadia away from here. All he had to do was get close enough to touch her, and they would be safely away.
17
Even here in a dream, the cold earth chilled Nadia through the thin plaid blanket she’d been given to lie down on under the wagon. She knew she was dreaming, because as she sang, she couldn't hear the audience with her ears, only with her mind. If only it were possible to know, in real life, how much they loved her song just like she knew they did in her dream. She was singing one of her favorites:
If I should enter intae yer bower,
I am na earthly man;
And should I kiss yer rosy lips,
Yer days would na be lang.
My bones are buried in yon kirk-yard,
Afar beyond the sea;
And ‘tis but my spirit, Margaret,
That's now speaking tae thee.
She stretchit oot her lily hand,
And fought tae dae her best,
Here be yer faith and troth, Willie;
God send yer soul tae rest.
Now she had kilted her robes of green
A piece below her knee,
And all the live-lang winter night,
The dead corpse followed she.
Be there room tae spare at yer head, Willie,
Or any room at yer feet?
Or any room at yer side, Willie,
Wherein a lass may creep?
There is na room at my head, Margaret;
There is na room at my feet;
There is na room at my side, Margaret;
My coffin's made sae meet.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGFSJ5rdWuU
(YouTube: Nuala Honan - Lady Margaret and Sweet William - Traditional)
She looked for Kelsey. The druid had to be here if this wasn’t really a dream but a sleeping reality where someone else could be aware of her. This smacked of Kelsey.
But Nadia’s druid coworker was nowhere about.
Oh, how the audience loved Nadia, singing along as one voice, they urged her on to more, saying with their yearning how they loved the sound of her voice, how much they enjoyed how happy she was when she sang.
She came to the end of that ballad and was thinking what song she should sing next when she realized why the audience were speaking with one voice.
This wasn't an anonymous audience, it was Ciaran.
She wasn't dreaming, she was slowly waking up while communing with him once more, in their minds.
His deliberate thought to her re-enforced this realization. "’Tis sae glad I am that all is wull with ye."
"Nay more glad than I am tae see ye are wull. When they took ye away, I—"
He put his physical hand gently over her lips. "Dinna fash upon it. We are taegither now. But Tahra plans tae sacrifice all the servants sae she can hae her magic anew. We must gae." He tried to pull her up, and he imagined she would grab his hand and let him lead her away on foot.
She resisted him.
He let go of her hand immediately, but he lowered himself to her side once more, radiating baffled hurt while still desperate for her to follow him away from the Cameron camp.
She gently took his hand and let him feel the love she yet had for him, saying silently in their still mingled minds, "I'm afeared tae gae on foot. If they catch us, ’tis sure they are tae kill us.” She tried not to imagine what that would be like, but her mind went with it, showing him the Cameron warriors lopping off their heads.
He didn’t pull her this time, but he imagined her getting up on her own, and he prepared to do the same. "Being caught and killed while we run is less certain than what they plan for the morrow, Nadia. We must leave."
Giving him
a new scenario to look at, she said to him in their minds, “Use the halberd! Take us clean away from here, ower tae Murray camp sae we can bring help and rescue Mairee and the others. They hae been sae welcoming tae me, I feel they are like sisters." She said it gently, giving him the benefit of the doubt. But had he forgotten about the halberd? He had it with him, disguised as Bixby's walking stick.
Disappointment emanated from him. "Be assured that I tried tae will us away with the halberd the moment I first arrived by yer side and touched yer fair skin. Howsoever, the cursed thing has power ower me now. Unable am I tae exert my will ower it betimes, and I canna lay it doon.” A ray of hope entered his mind. “If we gae tae sleep, can ye summon yer friend Kelsey intae oor dreams, sae we can ask her tae get us away?”
It was her turn to emanate disappointment, but she fought that feeling, trying instead to push into his heart some of the faith she had in his fighting prowess. “Nay, it does na work that way. I canna summon Kelsey. Ainly she can create such a dream.”
To her surprise, her faith in his fighting skills made him ashamed. Even as he flexed his muscles to show that indeed he was up to the task. “Nadia, Tahra wull na win. I wull use the halberd tae cut her doon. Howsoever, the thing is accursit. I kenned it was. Eoin wore gloves when he held it, and he did warn me na tae use it. But I defied him. It wull make for me an early death, any time now.”
What? She couldn’t have heard that correctly! An early death? Any time now?
The sadness in his mind told her she had heard right, though. And he wasn’t sad for himself, but rather for the time he would lose with her.
Even as this endeared him to her all the more, Nadia’s heart broke. All the hope she had stored up for a life with him, children with him, drained out of her. She was hollow, hopeless.
