Highlander's Magic

by Joanne Wadsworth

  The young woman wore a billowy burgundy gown, her hair a riot of red-gold curls. The waist-length locks swayed forward over her distended belly.

  “Oh my goodness. Please, sit.” So many questions raged through her mind, she barely knew where to start. “What’s happening? Where did Archie go?”

  “Aye, thank you. My feet need a resting. Archie’s sailed to answer the warning.” She waddled into the room, pulled out the chair wedged under the desk and plopped down. “Dinnae fear though. My brother may be a thorn in our sides, but Lachlan cannae breach these walls. Archie and John will no’ allow it.”

  “Will Archie come back soon?”

  “Once he’s seen to the threat. The guardsman who gave me Archie’s message said you were fae, and he made a wish and pulled you from the circle. You’re here to aid him in bringing an end to this war.”

  “That’s right. Archie did make a wish, one I have to see through in order to return to my sister. Although as I told Archie, I’m not fae.”

  “Ye do sound of another world, but fae it must be.” She gazed at her coat. “Even the white woolen weave you wear is so pure in color. ’Tis quite magical.”

  “Right.” She rubbed her sleeve. The coat had cost her a pretty penny, but at least they thought her fae and not a witch. Being burnt at the stake wasn’t an option. She shuddered. No, that couldn’t happen. Still, at some point in time she’d have to find a way to impart the truth, in the best way she could.

  “We need your magic.” Mary nodded as if trying to reassure her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to help.” This was the woman who’d bequeathed her the amulet. Mary too was both a MacLean and a MacDonald as she was. She lowered to her knees and gripped Mary’s hands. Her ancestor was real, and right here before her. “For so long I’ve wanted to know more about you, why you would—” Okay, she probably shouldn’t rush into this. She needed to take care considering this time period, and Mary’s condition.

  Frowning, Mary leaned forward. “You’ve wanted to know more about what? Please, speak freely. Whatever I can do to aid the fae, I will.”

  “Let me show you something first. That might help a little.” She tugged Mary to the window. If you look, you’ll see your amulet lying on the center stone in the circle. I came through the circle, although not from his time. I’m not a witch or a fae, but from the future. You gifted your amulet to me, and you had it passed down along your eldest daughter’s line until it once again came into a MacLean’s possession.”

  Her frown deepened. “Nay. Why would I do such a thing?”

  “You left instructions for me to return the amulet to Islay, to this place right here. My father was born from Lachlan MacLean’s paternal line, one of his youngest sons. I received your talisman on my twenty-first birthday.”

  Mary’s blue eyes, the same shade as hers and Katherine’s, softened. “Marie, there is no future until it arrives.” She squeezed her hands. “I’d no’ hurt one of the fae. You need only speak the truth with me.”

  Mary clearly couldn’t conceive the possibility any more than Archie had. Time travel and coming from the future wasn’t something she’d believe either if the positions were reversed. Still, she’d keep pressing, but slow and easy. Maybe in time they’d see she spoke the truth.

  Mary rubbed her swollen belly. “The bairn kicks strong this eve.”

  “When is your baby due?”

  “A month, mayhap less. This one shall be a boy and as strong as his father.” Her gaze drifted out the window. “Angus will return, and whatever I can do to aid you with Archie’s wish, you need only ask.”

  Knowledge was power, and Mary had been the one to bring her back to the past. “I’ve studied this time, but records weren’t exactly well-kept. More often than not, only major events drew an actual recording, and even those were open to the writer’s interpretation. Legends were passed down from family members, but again they could be skewered in the teller’s favor. Will you tell me about this feud and Lachlan MacLean?”

  “My, my. The fae have a strange way of speaking. Studied this time? Legends? We are in the present, my dear.”

  Which was fifteen-hundred and ninety. “Can you tell me how this feud between the clans started?”

  “Aye. ’Twas five years past. Donald MacDonald sailed here to visit Angus. They’re brothers and quite close.” She eased onto the end of Archie’s massive bed covered with a brown and blue wool patchwork blanket then patted the spot beside her.

  “I’ve heard of the Chief of Sleat.” She joined Mary. “He’s a tough warrior.”

  “As are all the chiefs of these Western Isles.” She clasped her hands. “Afore Donald and his men arrived here, they were forced to take shelter in Jura as a storm passed through. That’s when our troubles began. Donald landed on my brother’s portion of the isle, and in the dead of night, he and his men were viciously attacked by Lachlan and his warriors.”

  “Why would Lachlan attack when they were only seeking shelter?”

  “Terreagh MacDonald had a grudge against Donald, and that night he used Donald’s arrival on Lachlan’s land to his advantage.”

  “One of your own clan betrayed their chief?” And to a MacLean no less.

  “Aye, ’twas Terreagh who carried off with some of Lachlan’s cattle, then turned coat and informed Lachlan it had been Donald’s doing.”

  “How bad was the attack?”

  “Donald lost sixty men. Many were sleeping when the MacLeans snuck into camp. ’Twas a terrible slaughter.”

  “But Donald survived?” Clearly, he had since he was now imprisoned in Edinburgh.

  “Donald remained aboard his galley. He’d taken the sea watch so his men could get their rest. He had no knowledge of the battle until ’twas done.”

  “Did he retaliate?” Her heart sank. Highlanders would never allow such a killing to go unpaid. That much she’d learnt from history.

  “First he took his slain warriors home. Angus heard about what had happened and visited Donald at Dunscaith Castle. He hoped to intervene, but Donald intended his revenge. To try to settle the issue, Angus detoured on his way home and paid a call on my brother at Duart Castle on Mull. Lachlan though wouldnae be swayed, no’ when things had always been so on edge between them. Lachlan threw Angus into his dungeons then demanded he handover his lands in the Rhinns.”

  “The Rhinns on this isle’s west coast?” It was a sweep of land where wildlife thrived. She and Katherine had intended to visit there.

  “Aye, near Loch Gruinart. To ensure Angus complied, my brother demanded my eldest son, James, be held as his hostage until the land transfer was complete. My bairn was five at the time. I had to send my son away, and ’twas only after I did that Angus was released.” Tears welled as she twisted her hands in her lap.

  “I’m so sorry.” She rubbed Mary’s back. “What of James?”

  “When Angus asked Lachlan to meet him at Mullintrea near the Rhinns to sign the transfer parchments, Lachlan used James as leverage. Angus knew Lachlan would never hand James over, no’ even after the deed was signed.”

  “What did Angus do?”

  “Lachlan is still my brother, and Angus was well aware Lachlan felt guilt with my marriage to him being an arranged one.” She stood and paced the room. “Angus demanded Lachlan settle their differences with honor. He treated Lachlan well for the day, but once Lachlan and his men retired to the village for the night, Angus and his warriors surrounded their longhouse. He wanted James back and knew I was becoming more distraught.”

  “I can’t believe the extent of this feud, or that an innocent child was involved.”

  “My brother even tried to use James as a shield. Thankfully Angus cornered him, and Lachlan finally surrendered.”

  “What of James now?”

  “He carries the scars of his trialing time, as well as a burning hatred for his uncle.” Tears trailed down her cheeks and she dashed them away. “Angus spared my brother’s life that
night so as not to escalate the feud, though he did take the life of Terreagh MacDonald who was among Lachlan’s men. In the years since, Lachlan has continued to seek his revenge. He’s ravaged our land where he could, while Angus has plundered in return. All in the isles have felt the effects of this war.”

  Poor Mary. She’d been caught right in the middle, her amulet a heavy reminder she was both MacDonald and MacLean. Two great clans at war. “What can you tell me about your amulet? I know so little about it.”

  “Angus had it made and gifted to me on my wedding day. ’Twas supposed to represent the joining of both clans although that has never been achieved. I wear it because ’tis a firm reminder I belong to both. Lachlan is still my brother, and as much as I hate what he’s done, he’s kin. I wish Angus had no’ been taken by the king, nor Donald.”

  What a mess. How on earth was she supposed to fix this, a feud of such massive proportions? Stupid fae. Those little folk had a lot to answer for.

  “Were you aware of the king’s missive? That he wished for all three chiefs to make amends for their actions.”

  “Angus never spoke of any such thing.”

  “Is there anyone other than the king who could sort this feud?”

  “Nay. Lachlan fights to win, and now he remains the sole aggressor. On the loose, I’m no’ sure what he’ll do.”

  An ache settled between her eyes and she rubbed it. Three chiefs and a king, and she had to keep history on course. Adventure didn’t even begin to come close to describing her current mission. “Archie seems prepared to fight.”

  “Neither he nor John will allow Islay to fall, nor Lachlan to live if it’s within their power.” Mary brushed her fingers over Marie’s brow. “I’ve burdened you enough for this eve. We should speak more in the morn. Would some rest aid you in sorting your thoughts?”

  “Traveling back to my own time certainly would.” Though she doubted it would happen any time soon. “Thank you. You’ve given me much to consider. You should rest too. Will you be able to speak to me tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Sleep well, Marie.” Mary closed the door behind her.

  She leaned against the windowsill. The circle was clear, and she was here to stay. “Katherine, this adventure right now sucks, but stay safe. I’ll see to Archie’s wish, somehow and someway.” She blew a kiss. “Then I’ll get back to you. I promise I will.”

  Yes, it was a promise she’d never break.

  * * * *

  Feet braced wide, Archie gripped the birlinn’s ropes alongside Eric, one of his best warriors. The storm had filled the sails and this close to the shore ’twas necessary to keep a tight rein on their direction to ensure they didn’t go aground.

  MacLean would pay if he were behind the current attack, which he didn’t doubt. Once he found MacLean, he’d make certain the man understood he’d never be laird over any portion of Islay. ’Twas MacDonald land, and no one else’s.

  He’d given James his promise as the lad had raced after him to the sea-gate. His father would be returned to him, right after he’d disposed of his treacherous uncle. James was strong. He’d survived a tortuous abduction and come through it. Once the boy became a man, he’d aid his father in leading their clan, and he’d make a fine warrior, one Angus would be proud of. For now though, Islay was under his care, and he wouldn’t fail his chief, or Mary.

  “Do you smell that, Captain?” George kept a look out from the bow.

  The salty scent of the sea tickled his nose, and there, a hint of smoke. They were almost at Ardbeg where Will remained on guard. He turned the sail a touch and caught more wind. These past five years, MacLean had taken every opportunity to pillage and burn their lands, but he’d never gotten this close to Dunyvaig. MacLean may have heard of Angus’s imprisonment, or if not, he was taking his chances at striking so nearby. “To the village,” he called to his men. “With haste.”

  Muscles flexed, he wrestled with the ropes as the waves churned. The scent of smoke thickened as they rounded the tip.

  “Look, Captain!” George motioned toward land.

  A thick, ashy plume smothered the horizon. Ardbeg burned. They had to move faster. Longhouses blazed, and his people formed a living line from the burning buildings to the water’s edge. Each swung a pail, one to the other.

  “Oars,” he bellowed as he dropped the sail and bounded to the bow. They crested the waves and fifteen feet from the rocky shoreline, he leapt over the side and landed hip-deep in the water. He shoved through then jogged toward Will.

  “Captain.” Will jabbed a hand toward the forest path. “MacLean’s men snuck in like the cowards they are, attacked and left the winds to fan the flames. I would have made chase, but all hands are needed here.”

  A woman blackened with grimy soot carried a bairn toward the line and joined her kinsmen. They damn well better not have lost any lives. “We save the village first.” He signaled to his men as they bounded onto land. “The fires must go out. Aid as you can.”

  Everything within him raged to go after MacLean. Instead, he strode across to the woman, swung her bairn onto his shoulders and joined in the battle to save what they could. “Hold on, young one. MacLean willnae win this day.”

  “Fire bad.” The child wrapped pudgy arms around his neck. “Men bad.”

  “Aye, they’ll be brought to justice.” He hefted the next pail along. Marie’s magic wouldn’t go amiss. Some rain wouldn’t either. If only those storm clouds would release their burden. Lifting his face to the skies, he sent his wish free.

  A fat drop splashed his cheek then another landed on his nose.

  The heavens opened and the rains came. Aye, his faerie was a magical charm he’d wish for again should he have need.

  All around his kinsmen cheered, hands lifted to the sky. They waited for the rain to work its wonder. Slowly the flames hissed and died.

  Drenched, he called out, “No MacLean will ever dishearten us. We rally together.”

  MacLean would be held accountable for this destruction.

  He’d make certain of it.

  Chapter 3

  “Load the cart with whatever we can spare.” A booming male voice filtered through the window.

  Marie jerked awake on the soft mattress, scrubbed her gritty eyes and climbed out of the covers. She was still in the past and Archie hadn’t returned. Hopping across to the window, she tugged on her white leather boots. Dawn pierced the horizon, casting a silvery-pink hue over the loch. After last night’s torrential downpour, the skies had finally cleared and the grassy moors glistened.

  The circle looked no different this morning, her amulet still lying untouched across the center stone. Katherine hadn’t come. Her heart heaved for her sister. No, she had to remain strong. She had a wish to see to so she could return through time, and she couldn’t do that without the man who’d made the wish in the first place.

  “We’re almost there, George. The cook will bring the loaves of bread she’s prepared and ye can set out.” John stood below in the courtyard, one hand braced against the wooden sides of a cart overflowing with blankets, clothing and tools.

  His voice had first woken her.

  Two lads dashed from the side entrance and tucked armfuls of bread into the rear of the cart.

  John clapped the driver on the back. “Inform Archie I’ll have another score of men there my midday.” John had the same dark hair with a hint of gold on the shoulder-length ends as Archie. The strands swept across his claymore holstered snugly over his back. These warriors were always armed.

  A gangly boy wearing breeches two inches too short raced out of the keep. “John.” He’d chased Archie to the sea-gate the night before. He had Mary’s bright red-gold locks, although cut close to his head. “I’m coming to the village. They’re my people too. Father would expect me to do what I can.”

  “The fire was extinguished by the rains, James. You need to remain with your mother. With your father gone, she worries about you.”

  “Mother wishes to co
me too. Archie has no’ forbid it.”

  Indecision crossed John’s face then he slowly nodded. “George said MacLean was nowhere to be found once the men completed their search. You’ll have a strong guard. Inform your mother she may—”

  “He need no’ inform me. I’m right here.” Mary bustled out of the keep with furs draped over her arms. “I’ve sent a maid to awaken Marie. As Archie’s faerie, she too should come.”

  “Allow me.” John heaved the furs from her arms and tossed them into the cart. “You’re no’ to overdo things, and you’re to return when Archie says.”

  “Aye, whatever you say.” A sneaky smile lifted her lips before she quickly straightened them, one very reminiscent of Katherine’s cheeky smile. Clasping her blue woolen skirts, she clambered in beside the driver.

  The maid hadn’t yet arrived, but she didn’t want to miss that cart. Where Archie was, she needed to be. Out the door, she raced through the dimly lit corridor and down the winding stairwell. Archie hadn’t brought her in from this direction, but the side stairs. Hopefully these led out.

  She pounced off the last step, rounded a corner and weaved through the great hall where beautiful landscape tapestries hung on the stone walls. Above the blazing fireplace, a massive two-handed great sword encrusted with precious stones, glinted. She rounded the trestle tables and whizzed past the elevated dais.

  At the door, a maid swept the floor while another shooed a dog outside.

  “Excuse me.” She ran outside and across the stony courtyard to the cart.

  “There you are, my dear. Come.” Mary waved.

  She scrambled onto the front seat next to Mary. “I heard from my window. MacLean’s attack was in the village then?”

  “Aye, but the rains doused the flames, lessening the loss. There is still much to be done though. The luck of the faeries is needed this day.” She motioned toward John. “Have you met Archie’s brother?”

  “Not formally, just from beyond the veil.” She pressed out her hand. “Nice to meet you, John.”