Quest of a Scottish Warrior

by Sky Purington

  The storm had been quick moving—almost as if it had swept through as a mirror to the intensity of their lovemaking—and now a light drizzle fell. A glow lit the shore at the oak ford and Cassie’s heart caught in her throat when they left the forest behind.

  Athdara lay on her side with Grant kneeling beside her. Logan’s cousins stood nearby, expressions somber. Cassie rushed over and fell to her knees on the other side of the horse. Grant’s sad eyes met hers. “Ye’ll want to make room for yer lad. ‘Tis best that he’s close to her now.”

  “Of course,” she murmured and moved over so that Logan could crouch next to Athdara’s head.

  He looked at Grant, confused. “I can barely hear her.” Like Cassie, he was stroking the horse, trying to offer comfort. “I dinnae ken.”

  “‘Tis hard, this,” Athdara whispered into her mind. “‘Tis so verra hard.”

  “What’s hard?” Cassie said. “Why can’t Logan seem to hear you?”

  The horse’s nostrils flared and though her eyes fluttered, they did not open. “Because his heart isnae ready.”

  Grant hung his head and started murmuring prayers.

  “What ails Athdara?” Increasingly alarmed, Logan shook his head. “What’s happening here?”

  Cassie jolted when fire flared nearby and Ferchar appeared on the shore. Grant immediately stood and stepped away as Logan’s father, face ravaged with grief, fell to his knees where Grant had been.

  “Nay, my lass, dinnae leave me.” Tears rolled down the Scotsman’s face as he pulled the horse’s head into his lap. Body tense, brows lowered sharply, Logan shook his head. “What is it, Da?”

  Not sure what else to do, Cassie wrapped her hand in Logan’s and held tight. Good thing because what happened next made her mouth fall open in disbelief. Air started to shimmer and fluctuate around Athdara, warping everything until the horse vanished…

  And a woman remained.

  She looked familiar.

  Older but remarkably beautiful, her golden eyes fluttered open and locked with Ferchar’s. Though her voice was Athdara’s, her brogue faded away as she spoke. “Husband, my love, it’s almost time for me to go.”

  A strangled sound broke from Logan’s chest and his eyes widened in anguished disbelief as he clasped the woman’s hand with both of his. “Ma?”

  Oh dear God no.

  Athdara had been his mother all along?

  This was Caitlin Seavey from the twenty-first century?

  But of course she was. Though aged, this was the woman Cassie had seen in the picture on the mantle.

  Caitlin’s eyes lingered on Ferchar’s face for a long moment and Cassie couldn’t stop the tears if she wanted to. There was no way to describe all the unsaid words, all the shared moments, all the complete and thorough love that passed between them in that one look. A lifetime of memories that would remain theirs through eternity.

  Ferchar pressed his cheek against Caitlin’s palm as she turned tired eyes to Logan. Though it was clearly hard to do, she managed a small smile. “You’ve made me so proud, son. Now isn’t the time to be sad but strong. Your dad’s going to need you.”

  “Och, nay.” A tear streamed down Logan’s cheek and he shook his head. “Nay, Ma. Dinnae leave us. It cannae be your time yet.”

  Though they kept a respectable distance, his cousins including Machara drifted closer, pain in their eyes. As if she sensed them, Caitlin murmured, “Never abandon the bond you’ve forged with your cousins. You are always stronger together.”

  Logan nodded then shook his head, bringing the back of her hand to his lips, words pained. “I willnae fail ye, Ma. I’ll live my life as ye raised me to live it.”

  “Not once from the moment I knew you were in my belly have you failed me, Logan MacLomain.” Her skin grew more ashen. “But I think maybe it’s time for me to go back to New Hampshire for a bit. In one form or another.” Caitlin’s wise eyes drifted between them and her words entered Cassie’s mind, brogue thick once more. “Might ye take his hand and mine, lass?”

  While uncomfortable interrupting a family moment, she did as asked. Shaky, Caitlin’s hand wrapped around theirs, voice weaker and weaker as her eyes went to Logan’s. “Know the kind of love I did, son, and cherish it always.”

  Logan nodded and squeezed their hands, more tears trickling down his cheeks as Caitlin’s eyes struggled to swing back to Ferchar. Logan’s father cupped her cheeks and pressed his forehead to hers, whispering words only meant for her ears, words shared between best friends and lovers who were saying goodbye for the final time.

  Caitlin’s hand gradually went slack.

  Grant made a cross over her chest and spoke softly. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…”

  Though he finished the prayer, Cassie’s attention was soon ensnared by something far beyond her comprehension. The glow around them grew brighter and something shifted. Changed.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, my beautiful granddaughter.”

  Cassie’s mouth dropped when she looked over her shoulder. Ethereal but clearly visible, an elderly woman with twinkling blue eyes and a cane was smiling. An old man stood beside her, a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

  “Gram? Adlin?”

  Her head whipped around and she leaned back as a younger version of Caitlin stood. Ethereal as well, she stepped away from the woman lying at her feet. Her eyes swept between Ferchar and Logan, words a whisper. “I love you both so much." While there was incredible sadness, there was also peace in her eyes. "I will see you again someday.”

  Neither had a chance to respond before she drifted away from her body. When Cassie turned again, the couple waiting was no longer old but young. Adlin nodded at everyone in greeting but said nothing.

  His sole focus now was Caitlin’s…ghost.

  “Come, lass.” Adlin took Caitlin’s hand as the woman who could only be his one true love, Mildred took her other. “We’ve missed you.”

  After that, their words were muffled and the bright light faded along with the apparitions. Ferchar wrapped his arms around Caitlin’s shoulders, burying his face in her neck, body wracked by silent sobs. Logan’s body was just as tense as before, eyes unseeing and lost as he stared at his mother’s prone body.

  Sickened with sadness, Cassie did not know what else to do but wrap her arms around him. For several long moments, he didn’t respond. He was nothing but rock, unbending and shell-shocked.

  Then, though it might have been her imagination, she felt a push against her mind. It was a flailing of the subconscious, the unconscious, the living soul trying to comprehend the departure of a soul in transition…to understand death. It almost felt like a repressed thought, much like her denying for so long that she would eventually go blind. Panicky, flittering, she tried to focus on it, calm it, to help it embrace the inevitable.

  Only when Logan jerked, blindly wrapped his arms around her and yanked her against him did she realize that the thought had been his. Holding on tight she said nothing but kept thinking calming thoughts. Anything to ground him. Anything to help him not fight but embrace his intense grief. Because pain like this, a pain she readily felt through him, was crippling, life-altering.

  Cassie had no idea how long she held him, no idea of anything save the heavy weight of his strong arms around her. His mind was adrift in shock, separated from itself.

  Logan's memories became hers.

  His mother when she was young rocking him on the swing hanging from the oak in front of the Colonial in New Hampshire. The smell of petunia’s wafting on the wind. Then he was maybe eight or nine and she was scowling as Ferchar taught him how to swing a blade in the courtyard of the MacLomain castle. Then it wasn’t his father but his mo
ther standing behind him when he looked to be in his pre-teens. She was showing him how to shoot a bow and arrow. They were so happy, her laughing as he shot the first arrow straight up into the air. More and more memories washed over her and his grief became so very much hers, as if she was soaking it up and giving him some relief.

  Tears poured down her cheeks as she became immersed in his pain.

  Only the feel of a warm, firm hand in hers started to pull her back from wherever Logan had taken them. Bleary eyed, her vision swam as she tried to focus. When at last she could somewhat see, she realized that Ferchar held her hand and that Caitlin’s body was no longer there. She was tucked on Logan’s lap, sitting on a rock, his worried eyes on her. Dim light dulled the stars. It was already pre-dawn.

  Cassie shook her head, eyes flickering between them, confused. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Are you okay?”

  “Aye,” Logan murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheek, voice thick with emotion. “Ye shared my pain lass…ye eased it so verra much. How are ye?”

  Her eyes felt dry and her chest tight, but the world was a brighter place with Logan no longer in the stupor he had been in before. “I’m good…I think.”

  “We waited for you to awaken before we said goodbye,” Ferchar said softly. He squeezed her hand. “Caitlin would have wanted it. After all, she gave you her ring.”

  Grant was there, as were Logan’s cousins and every last MacLomain warrior. Their stoic and proud faces were on the shore as Ferchar nodded and a small, makeshift boat was pushed into the water.

  “‘Twas the magic of our Viking ancestors that allowed her to merge with the horse,” Logan murmured. “And ‘tis a Viking warrior’s burial she will have.”

  “I must stand.” He looked at her, eyes far calmer and more accepting than they had been the night before. “Do me the honor of sitting with my Da?”

  She nodded, speechless.

  Logan set her down then eyed his bow for a long moment before he lifted it. Cassie pressed her lips together when she realized it was the one she had seen in his memory. The one Caitlin first taught him to shoot with.

  “Here, lad, she’d want you to wear this,” Ferchar said, holding out a black glove.

  Eyes moist, Logan nodded as he took it, words fond. “She couldnae let go of some parts of the twenty-first century, aye?”

  “Och, she worried over yer soft hands,” Ferchar said, brogue thickening with his emotions.

  Chuckle low and forced, Logan slid on the glove. Bare-chested, hair tied back, plaid low on his waist, he took a few steps, turned to the river and lifted his wooden bow.

  Ferchar squeezed her hand as the horizon almost seemed to honor the moment. Wind driven, black-bellied clouds somersaulted across the sky, warring with the sun as it crested. A wicked explosion of violent purple and rash blue fought against a splash of deep orangey yellow. All the while, Logan held his bow and arrow, cocked and ready as he eyed the water…as he eyed his mother floating away. His pain was hers and she felt the soul-deep tremble of his fear of hurting Caitlin, his fear of saying goodbye.

  “We only let her go for now, son,” Ferchar said. “‘Tis not her soul but a shell ye see out there.”

  A long moment stretched and a slight shudder rippled through Logan before he whispered, “Aye, Da.”

  Ferchar, head held high, proud, murmured, “My truest love, my wife, forever ye be, might the heart of my fire now set ye free. Meum amorem collimant, uxori aeternum ye be, cerneres cor domini mei ignis ite solutae iam sollicitas.”

  The end of Logan’s arrow ignited with fire and his eyes met Ferchar’s. Their heartbroken but strong gazes held before Ferchar finally gave a firm nod. “Let her go.”

  Logan turned, aimed, whispered how much he loved his mother and released the arrow. His cousins, who had been edging closer, now formed a supportive wall behind him as the arrow met its mark. The wind caught the flame and within seconds fire engulfed the raft.

  Arms limp, eyes unwavering, the bow fell from Logan’s hand as he silently watched. Niall put a firm hand on his right shoulder, Darach on his left. Rònan and Machara’s hands landed beside the others as they stood close. The moment was intense, one made of tears and barely inhaled breaths, one made of family letting go of family.

  “Farewell, my love,” Ferchar whispered, never releasing Cassie’s hand as his eyes stayed locked on the flames. “I will see ye again someday.”

  Wanting to go to Logan but understanding he needed his cousins right now, she remained silent and watched the burning boat as it drifted.

  “Aye, but then my lass had a plan all along,” Ferchar murmured, awe and love in his voice.

  Cassie’s eyes turned to him, confused.

  Ferchar nodded at her ring. “It had always been hers. A symbol of our love.” His eyes met Cassie’s. “Now ‘tis yours, lass.”

  Her eyes dropped to the Claddagh ring. The stone nestled between the hands was no longer clear but pale blue with tiny flecks of gold.

  A sapphire.

  The exact color of Logan’s eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Though his grief had lessened some because of what Cassie had done for him, his heart lifted when he turned and saw the ring. Nodding his thanks to his cousins for their support, he strode over and dropped to his knees in front of her. He had never seen a more welcoming sight than the sapphire. Eyes never leaving hers, he kissed the ring then pulled her into his arms. “Thank God.”

  Logan wasn’t kidding himself. He knew this didn’t mean she would stay with him, but it did mean that there was a man meant for her. That he was meant for her.

  Not tentative in the least, her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her cheek against his chest, whispering, “Again, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss.”

  A loss that she had so selflessly shared with him. Cassie might not know how she managed it, but he did. She loved him. Simple as that. Had her feelings not run so deep she never would have been able to take on so many of his memories. So much heartache. Her mind, her very soul, had soaked up so much of his grief that he could love his mother and say goodbye without the shock and emotional blindness that such a loss could cause. She offered him sight past a pain that could have kept him in self-induced darkness for a very long time.

  Logan held her for several moments wishing they could stay that way forever but knew that there was revenge to be had. On Cullen Stewart. Because as he had learned from his Da and Grant while Cassie was in her healing haze, his mother had sacrificed herself. Connected to the MacLomains via her ring, she was able to utilize the magic of their Viking ancestry. A magic that allowed a wizard, or witch in this case, to merge with a horse and in turn eventually be resurrected.

  But not this time.

  The evil she had been thrust into was far too powerful.

  Yet, as Ferchar sadly shared, his mother had gone into this with her eyes wide open. Apparently, without his father’s knowledge, she had willingly put herself into the death slumber at the Hamilton castle, merging with Athdara. That's why her ring ended up on Cassie's finger. His mother had somehow made sure the ring found its way to Logan's one true love. When Ferchar saw the ring on Cassie’s finger, he sought out Caitlin. Then when her body eventually vanished from the Hamilton’s, he came here.

  What truly broke Logan’s heart was that his mother had to know she would eventually die. Why else would she ensure the ring ended up on Cassie’s finger never to return to hers? This, naturally, meant that she knew Robert would soon be taken and what her role in saving him would be. And as Grant soon shared, it had been Caitlin’s magic that helped the Hamilton cast the binding spell that kept Cullen from getting too far. He suspected that’s why the horse’s name was Athdara to begin with.

  It was the location that his mother would meet her end.

  Grant met his eyes as Logan and Cassie stood. “I was wrong, lad. There can be no doubt now that not all of the rings were meant for those born of the Next Generation. Only the gods know wh
y but we willnae question it, aye?”

  “Nay, never,” Logan agreed.

  Grant nodded and redirected the conversation. “We willnae stay on here much longer. There is vengeance to be had and a king to be saved.”

  Logan nodded and cupped Cassie’s cheeks. “How do you feel? Strong enough to continue the journey?”

  “You better believe it,” she said, a determined look in her eyes.

  God, he was so impressed with this woman. He might lust after her something fierce, but he knew his attraction had as much to do with unequivocal admiration. Without question, she would make a perfect Lady of MacLomain castle.

  And damn would he be proud to call her his wife.

  Logan turned to his men. “As many of ye already know, this ford is a place of great power. A place that can be harnessed by those of us with magic. Like many across Scotland, 'tis a portal to another location in our country. This time, we will use it to travel to the Mother Oak.”

  He connected eyes with as many men as possible. “There is no way to know what will greet us when we travel there, but I can tell ye this with certainty, 'twill be extremely dangerous. Because 'tis so incredibly unpredictable and could verra well mean certain death, I am giving any who wish to remain here the option.”

  There was a moment of hesitation before men shook their heads and cried out.

  “We go where ye go, m’laird!”

  “We will avenge yer Ma!”

  “We will avenge the poor souls lost in the MacLauchlin village!”

  Logan nodded. Proud. He was about to respond when several warriors crested the hill and a mighty roar came from the man leading the way. “Ye’ll go nowhere without me, ye bunch of bloody bastards!”

  Clyde MacLauchlin.

  His son Deargh and his daughter’s husband, Baird Stewart were with him.

  Cassie released a small chuckle, undoubtedly amused by the gigantic chieftain’s wild appearance. Skinny braids were tangled in his unkempt hair and his tunic didn’t quite contain his belly.