Lìli’s body crumpled to his feet, and the last thing he spied was her blood, red as rose petals, trickling into the snow.
With a war cry, dún Scoti swung his blade.
Red was all Aidan saw—the Blood moon and the red of his wife’s blood fueled a rage unlike any he’d ever known.
Abandoning their laird, Rogan’s warriors escaped down the mountain path. Unfortunately for them, none would live to carry tales tonight. Rogan sealed his own fate the instant he discarded Lìli at his feet.
With a bellow full of fury, Aidan swung his heavy claymore. The blade caught the man’s upraised sword with a metallic crash that lit sparks in the air between them. With the sheer force of his blow, Rogan’s blade went flying backwards out of his hands. It plunged into the snowdrift at his back. Between them, Lìli’s body lay crumpled across a bed of frozen white and Aidan drove Rogan back, away from his wife.
He stumbled backward, righting himself as Aidan pulled the axe out of his belt, and once he was far enough away from Lìli, he tossed the weapon at Rogan’s feet. “Let it never be said I would slay an unarmed mon, but ye dinna mistake me, Rogan MacLaren, for I will kill ye tonight!”
The breath from Rogan’s nostrils puffed into the air like a maddened stallion. His black eyes looked like those of a cornered beast’s. Aidan inched closer, ready to strike the instant he lifted the axe, but his quarry merely eyed the weapon.
Somewhere down the mountain path, the clanging of swords could be heard, but Aidan was only interested in the death of one man. Those poor bastards below had simply made the mistake of swearing fealty to the wrong man.
Rogan backed away as Aidan stalked him, never averting his gaze as he groped in search of his fallen sword. “Faigh bàs!” he spat.
Aidan grinned. “Aye, but if I go to hell, I will see ye there!”
Almost as though the heavens offered agreement, the moon slid behind its shadow in that instant, but Aidan saw clearly enough to follow Rogan’s movements. He knew this land like a lover’s body. Closing in upon his prey, he bent to retrieve the axe from the ground, but he did not sheathe it. It had been a mistake for Rogan to forgo the weapon, for Aidan was far better with his axe than he was with his sword.
At last Rogan found his weapon of choice, the sword he knew still bore the remnants of Lily’s blood. Now he snarled with renewed confidence, and lifted the claymore, lunging after Aidan.
Aidan flung his axe. Unerringly through the darkened night, it found its mark in the center of Rogan’s chest, imbedding itself so deeply that he could hear the man’s ribs crack above the din of the wind. A look of stunned surprise crossed Rogan’s features as he fell backward into the drift, dropping his sword and grasping for the blade buried in his chest. The axe did not move, but death would not find him so quickly as he might hope for the blade had missed his heart.
Aidan hesitated only long enough to clear his mind of battle-rage, wind and snow whipping his face. And hearing the shouts of his men returning up the mountain path, he retrieved the jug of uisge Lìli had brought with her. Plucking it out of already frozen hands, he walked over to Rogan and tossed it down beside him. “Enjoy it while ye can,” he spat, offering the man a greater mercy than he deserved. “It’ll be the last ye e’er taste.”
He propped his boot against the man’s belly and withdrew the axe from his chest, cracking more ribs with the effort and leaving the bastard to whatever fate his men would allow. If he managed to crawl away before they chanced to find him, he would die prostate in the snow while wolves tore the meat from his flesh, leaving nothing but bones. Without another word, he spun about, removing his cloak to cover his wife and scoop her up from the snow, praying he was not too late…
Epilogue
The pain was almost unbearable.
Lìli placed a hand to her belly, worrying. For as long as anyone could recall, Una had been the only one to deliver babes here in the vale. She had never before gone away during the winter months, but Aidan swore she would return long before the Beltane celebration to give the spring blessings before setting out once again on her yearly sojourn through the Highlands.
However, the snows had long since receded, and still she had not come home. When Lìli considered the old woman’s occasional remarks—that she was “growing old,” and “now that Lìli was about to care for their kinsmen, she could rest at ease”—she worried mayhap this time would be the one time Una may not return.
Even now the bonfire was being constructed as they prepared for the Beltane celebration, and she and Lael together were counting the sheep they would slaughter for the feast. The rest of the livestock they had set aside for Una’s blessing. With but a single night remaining before the festival, all hearth fires had already been extinguished. They would be re-lit with an ember from the bonfire after it too was blessed by Una.
Sorcha, Duncan and Kellen were in the fields now with the rest of the children, picking mayflowers they would place upon every living creature in the vale. Spring was here at last and the rowan trees were in full bloom, their white buds at the ends of their branches looking like the memory of snow.
On a day like today, Lìli did not worry so much about Kellen, and she took much joy in the simple fact that for the first time in his life her son was free to be a child. The babe in her belly was another matter entirely… first he would need make it into this world, and for that she needed Una.
Lael’s brow furrowed, noting the hand that had gone to Lìli’s swollen belly. “Are ye well?” she worried.
“I am fine,” Lìli reassured.
Since the night of Rogan’s fall, and from the instant Aidan’s eldest sister had placed her arms around Lìli’s son, her manner and mood had changed toward Lìli. Aside from Glenna, she was Lìli’s dearest friend now. Betimes she found herself wishing Aveline had remained, for she had heard from a messenger that the poor girl had gone missing and had yet to be found. Of course, Lìli feared the worst, and now that she had discovered such joy amidst these people, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aveline might have encountered the same. What a pity.
“Ye dinna look so well to me,” Lael scolded. “Does she Glenna?”
Glenna knew Lìli was struggling to keep the babe from being born, and she understood why, and said, “Lìli, dear, leave the counting to us and go and rest a bit. Una will return soon.”
Ach, but Lìli was running out of time!
Another pain shot through her belly and the babe squirmed, giving her one warning after another.
She peered up near the ridge, where Aidan stood supervising the men as they hauled down cabers. Some they would leave for the games, but most of the new logs were to be used to repair winter damage on the crannóg’s piles, walls and floors. Some traditions were destined to continue. Others would be no more. Thankfully, they had not buried another man, woman or child—not since the day Lìli had discovered the cause of their maladies. Not even on that fateful night… up on the ridge had they lost a single life.
Of Rogan’s troupe, that was another matter. That night, they had burned Rogan’s body up on the ridge, along with his men. Only one had survived, but because Lìli had not told any of them anything about the stone, no one knew what she had promised to reveal to Rogan. And no one would ever know as far as she was concerned. For all David knew, there had simply been a skirmish over the return of her son.
Two days hence, MacKinnon men had ventured into the vale, asking once more if Aidan would lend his sword to their cause. Broc had petitioned David for the return of Keppenach, but David had refused, claiming that the fate of the fortress was undecided now that Lìli had wed. Although it could be argued that her son was still its rightful heir, it was not worth going to war with the MacKinnon's over. Still, she sensed a battle coming soon over the fate of her son’s patrimony, and Lìli worried Aidan would feel compelled to help defend the fortress from those who might seek to encroach upon the Am Monadh Ruadh. She only hoped he would not be forced to decide before the babe arrived—the
way her belly was cramping, she feared any moment now!
As for Sorcha, she still did not know that she and Lìli were sisters by blood. Aidan had asked Lìli not to reveal it as it was her husband’s wish that his youngest sister not know the circumstances of her birth. Lìli wasn’t so certain she agreed, but it was his sister first, after all, and what mattered most was that Lìli could give the girl the love of her heart no matter what she knew of their blood.
“Lìli?” Glenna prodded.
The work was nearly done for the day anyway. Lìli was just about to agree to go lie down, lest she tax herself and bring upon her labor too soon, and then her gaze lifted toward the tabled stone and her heart leaped against her ribs. She cried in relief and buckled to her knees that very moment. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and clutched her belly.
The babe was coming.
Now.
And just in time, because Una started down the hillside in their direction, with her white hair blowing in the breeze like billowing clouds, and her staff winking under the noonday sun.
“Oh, my!” she cried again, this time over a new pain that shot through her pelvis. Whether her excitement had brought on her labor, or Una had simply given the babe permission to be born would never be known, but Lìli felt a sudden wave of pain that felt as though someone had dropped Una’s keek stane straight over her pelvis. “Oh!” she cried again, nearly fainting as she felt the child’s head beginning to crown.
Girl or boy? In either case, the babe was as impatient as his father!
Glenna screamed and caught Lìli as she stumbled and Lael went screaming up the hillside, calling for her brother.
They barely had time to carry Lìli into the crannóg.
Their daughter was born on the eve of Beltane. Her hair, black as raven’s wings, was so long that Cailin tried to braid it. Surrounded by the ones she loved, Lìli knew beyond a doubt that she was not cursed at all… nay, for she was blessed.
With tears in his eyes, her husband ushered everyone out of their chamber and came to Lìli’s side, falling to one knee.
“Sùilean geala,” he whispered to their daughter—Bright Eyes—for her eyes were a rare color for an infant—more green than blue, and unnaturally bright—like Aidan’s mother’s and his father’s. It was the birthmark of the guardians, Una claimed, although it was not telling in of itself, for there was much else that must be true in order for a true guardian to arise. Lìli’s eyes were violet and yet Una claimed she would someday inherit Una’s staff. Still, it was clear that their child was a daughter of Aidan's noble blood.
And Aidan suddenly understood, and he swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat as he realized what Una had been trying to tell him on that night so long ago… the night she had bade him to look to the stars to sustain his faith.
Aidan stared down into the eyes of his nameless child, and knew he would never again doubt his wife… or his faith. Before that night upon the ridge, Lìli had confessed everything to him, trusting him to protect her and her son—his son now. And now they had two precious children… and the one squirming before him was the star Una wanted him to see with his heart.
“I’d like to name her Ria,” he told his wife, his throat almost too thick to speak. “Riannag, after my mother. It means star.”
Tears swam in Lìli’s eyes as Aidan reached out to trace the fine raised scar that encircled her neck, the scar Rogan had given her before his death. That was all that remained to remind him how close he’d come to losing everything.
“Nothing would please me more,” she said.
“Ach...” His voice was thick with emotion. “I will never give you a stone castle to buttress the sky,” he whispered. “Nor will I rule nations. I am but a mon, a guardian of the stone—can ye love a simple mon without aspirations to greatness, Lìli?”
“With all my heart,” she swore, and he believed her, for her heart was there in her eyes. “But I disagree, my love. My daughter’s father is the greatest among men!”
His own eyes swam with tears as he smoothed the sweat soaked hair from his wife's brow and whispered back, “I love you, Lìli,” he said.
“Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin,” she replied. I love you too.
Their child gurgled between them and in the shadow of the hall, Una lingered. But when Lìli met her gaze, she smiled and hobbled away.
Author's Note
First I'd like to note that I took liberties with the geography a bit. The valley I chose for the setting of this story was inspired by the setting of Loch Einich, and is in the general vicinity, but I purposely wanted to keep the location a bit of a mystery. Also to be noted is that the first accounts of whiskey brewing didn't come until much later, though I must believe the practice came long before the writing about it. Likewise kilts, plaids and tartans, as well as the Picts themselves. By most accounts the Picts were gone by the Ninth Century.
As for An Lia Fàil, otherwise known as the Stone of Destiny, or the Stone of Scone, and by some as clach-na-cinneamhain, there are many legends surrounding it. Throughout history it's been stolen, hidden, absconded with, placed under thrones, and still to this day no one can tell you with absolute certainty where/which is the real stone.
One account tells us the true stone was hidden somewhere in the mountains near Scone, secreted away by monks in 1296, sometime before the Hammer of the Scots, a.k.a. King Edward of England could take it and use it to subdue the Highlanders. Pointing to that theory, there's a Nineteenth Century story about two boys who had been exploring a landslide on Dunsinane Hill, near the site of an ancient hill fort, known as Macbeth’s Castle. There the boys found a fissure and a hidden cave, where they also discovered a mysteriously carved black stone. Later, going by the boys' accounts, the cave was relocated and there they discovered not just the stone in question, but two plaque-like tablets. Amidst much excitement, the stone was sent to London for examination and was never seen again. But, of course, knowing this really engaged this writer's mind.
What if–that magical question–the Stone of Destiny were in fact hidden, but not in 1296, when the chroniclers would have us believe? What if it were hidden much earlier... say, at a time when Scotland's history was in its infancy? And what if the guardians of the true stone had been disappointed by the warring of Alba's noble tribes. What if after Kenneth MacAilpín's treason, where he murdered seven rivals for the Pictish throne, that real stone were cursed by the last of the Picts? And what if then, after Kenneth's son Aed was murdered by coup, what if the guardians of the stone feared their sacred relic had fallen into the wrong hands? What if they stole that stone–the real stone–and hid it away in a cave and what if it remains hidden to this very day deep in the hills of Scotland? This would be the story of the Guardians of the Stone.
The truth is that the Picts pretty much disappeared from Scotland's history, with no one the wiser about where they went or why, but I'd like to re-imagine them this way, as a people who clung to their heritage until the very end... and who lent us their traditions through their tenacity to survive.
This one's for all those who, like me, even now don't want to let these people fade completely from the annals of history.
Slàinte mhòr agad!
The MacKinnon's Bride
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More Books by Tanya Anne Crosby
The Highland Brides
The MacKinnon’s Bride
Lyon’s Gift
On Bended Knee
Lion Heart
Highland Song
Guardians of the Stone
Highland Song
Highland Fire
The Medievals
Once Upon a Kiss
Angel Of Fire
Viking’s Prize
The Impostor Series
The Impostor’s Kiss
The Impostor Prince
Single Titles
Happily Ever After
Perfect In My Sight
Sagebrush Bride
Kissed
Novellas
Lady’s Man
Highland Song
Mischief & Mistletoe
Married at Midnight
Romantic Suspense
Speak No Evil
Tell No Lies
About the Author
Tanya has written twenty novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and two moody cats in northern Michigan.
For more information:
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Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) Page 27
