Snow swirled sideways on a sudden stiff breeze, stealing her breath. Keegan whimpered against her shoulder. “Hang on tight, son!”
Lightening snapped, and she closed her eyes against the brightness. A blast of thunder made her ears ache, and she bowed her body, attempting to cover her child. “What’s happening?”
Angus didn’t answer. He stood straight-backed, with both hands stretched up toward the snow-filled sky. Blair stayed on her knees, wrapped around her son. The rope bindings on her wrists rubbed her skin raw, and Keegan’s arms trembled.
“Stay with me, son.”
“Who is he? Why is he doing this? Where be Niall?”
Blair couldn’t answer him. The air swirled around them in a speeding circle of dead leaves and snow.
“I shall hide ye where Niall will never find ye, until he comes and pledges his fealty to me, and no other. I am the rightful laird, no’ he, no’ Gavin.”
As the wind grew furious, and Blair knelt, blind and helpless, things went from bad to worse the moment Keegan was ripped away.
“No!”
***
Niall had watched as his sire and his mercenaries attacked the pirates. Several of the crew went down, and the others scattered into the forest. He lost sight of Raven, and when he no longer spied Angus with his men, all thoughts flew back to Blair.
His worst nightmare unfolded, the moment the wind picked up. Snow blasted through the trees. Branches bent and swayed, and in a blistering circlet of ice and snow, he spied the shadowy outline of three barely visible figures, beside the creek. Squinting, he pushed his way through the maelstrom, intent on saving those, who he assumed, were Blair and Keegan.
All of a sudden, the snow settled, covering the dead leaves with a thick blanket of snow. Niall stepped into the exact spot the figures stood, mere seconds earlier, but he was alone. A shiver prickled along the back of his neck. The figures, whom he felt in his heart were Blair, Keegan, and his sire, had disappeared.
Suppressing a growl of regret, he crawled through the woods. The other mercenaries and the escaped pirates were still near, so he headed for the encampment of old Dorcas. If her spell still worked, he would find safety, and time to create a plan. Getting them back would take a miracle. Or, magic.
Dorcas be a witch!
Would she help him bring them back? First, he would have to find her camp. He crept along until he discovered the small pile of twigs he had stacked at the entrance to the glade, near the old woman’s tent. The smell of smoke filled the air. Crouching, Niall stepped through the bubble of invisibility, and found Dorcas exactly where he had left her.
“Yer back so soon? Did ye no’ find what ye were seeking, Highlander?”
“Blair and Keegan were taken.”
Dorcas dropped her pipe in the dirt at her feet. “Angus?”
Niall nodded.
“Sit yerself down and tell me what ye saw.”
Niall described the storm, then how the three disappeared before his eyes.
“As I feared, Angus has aligned himself with a witch, and has gained the power to travel through time. I fear he has returned to where he recently battled his son, Gavin. Methinks he feels nearly invulnerable.”
“Time travel? ‘Tis the truth?”
“Did yer lady friend no’ share her origins?”
Staring at the old woman, he thought about what he knew about the missing Blair MacIan. She was different, and seemed worldly. She spoke strangely and used words he did not comprehend.
“Nay. I believe she dinno’ trust me.”
“Aye, I recall she thought yer name be Balfour.”
Niall’s cheeks heated. “I lied to protect my clan. I dinno’ wish them to be forced to pay for my release.”
Dorcas’ left brow rose.
“Blair is…was a pirate. Their captain, truth be told, but a pirate with a heart of gold. She saved my life, after I saved hers.”
“Do ye love her?”
Dorcas’ question caught him by surprise. Love? He was a Highlander, possibly a laird, but he did not love Blair. Women were nice to play with, or to warm a man’s bed. Besides, love was an emotion he cared not to discuss with a powerful witch. What he wanted, was her help.
“I will no’ discuss our relationship with ye. No’ when I expected ye to keep her safe while I was scouting ahead. Can ye help me bring them home?” His sharp tone surprised even him, but when she nodded, relief swam over him in a cool rush. Suddenly parched, he looked around for the wineskin.
“Yer lady friend offered to fill it at the creek. Some time passed, and we heard screams. The bairn rushed to her aid. He has the blood of a laird in him, I fear.”
Niall feared such a truth, as well, because his sire might suspect that Keegan was either his, or Niall’s. “Send me where they traveled, tell me how to return, and I shall do the rest.”
Nodding, Dorcas began mixing and stirring powders and liquids. She filled several vials, then opened a small leather pouch. She set half the wax-capped bottles inside, then tied the package shut.
“Tie this to yer belt. Return to where ye saw her and the lad, and say these words. Stand verra’ still, close yer eyes, and repeat the words I tell ye. To return, once ye find them, repeat the words.” Dorcas whispered the spell in his ear.
Niall mouthed the words silently, and nodded.
Make sure ye hold the vials in yer hand, and the pouch of gems is tied to yer waist.”
Nodding, Niall accepted the potions and the sack of gems. After peering from the safety of the hidden tent, he headed toward the last spot where he had seen the shadowy forms of Blair, Keegan, and his sire. Snow had already obliterated his earlier footprints. Tugging the dark cloak tightly around him, he held the potions in his hand, and whispered the spell.
Let sunshine warm love’s bitter kiss,
Soothe the heart and seal with bliss,
Send this traveler, so mote it be.
The wind whipped the snow from the branches above Niall into a frenzy, and pulled the very breath from his lungs. Suddenly dizzy, he fell to his knees. His cloak whipped behind him like a pair of dark wings. If he could fly, he would find Blair and her bairn. He vowed to return them to the safety of Castle Ruadh, in the Scottish Highlands, then deal with his sire. Returning the pair safely home, was a priority.
When a bright light flashed, and his stomach lurched, his body writhed as if he was suddenly spiraling through nothingness. With a thud, he slammed to the ground.
CHAPTER 22
When Niall’s vision cleared, he shook damp hair out of his eyes. As snow fell from his head to the ground, he shivered. Swiping snow from his shoulders, he raised his face to the sun. The air was much warmer than where he had stood, moments earlier. He blinked, then inhaled the aroma of roasting meat, and something sweeter, like fresh-baked shortbread.
A roar from behind him, made him scramble over to a large tree. Hiding was not in his nature, but before venturing into the fray, it made sense, until he discovered where he had landed. Three young women, in short plaids, pranced past him, with their hair in tight buns on top of their heads. They giggled as they hurried down the gravel lane toward a large open-sided tent.
A group of men dressed similarly to him, but in brightly colored plaids, and carrying bagpipes, marched across the top of a hill. When they raised their instruments and began to play, the tune was light, yet eerie, and he wondered if he had landed in the Scottish lowlands.
Looking for the voices that had roared in unison, he followed the gravel path toward a huge building. He kept close to the trees, then slid along the base of the building constructed of wide wooden planks and large boulders. It was a grand structure, but he did not care. His search required he keep moving.
Several large tents filled an area to his left. He ducked through one open flap and found himself surrounded by bags of crushed herbs, potion bottles, live herb plants, and odd-looking utensils in baskets.
The lanterns were unlit, and whoever owned these items wa
s not in attendance. When he peeked outside, and saw no danger and not a soul in pursuit, he continued to head toward the amazing smells. His stomach growled.
“Wow! I heard that from over here. Can I get you something to eat, Highlander?” A young woman, with pretty gray eyes, and brown hair tied in a long braid over one shoulder, rested on her forearms, leaning in the open window of a hut.
A hut on wheels.
“What have ye, lass? Something smells delicious.”
“How about a meat pie, or a flaky bridie? My meat-filled turnovers are hot and flaky.”
Niall felt in his sporran until he found a few coins. He laid them on the windowsill, and her eyebrows rose.
“Well? ‘Tis this enough for one of each?”
She examined the coins, then glanced back at him. Her gaze rested on his snow-covered boots and damp hair. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
He shook his head, and wiped damp strands from his eyes. When she spied his scar, her shoulders tensed, and she averted her eyes. He thought he had gotten used to the imperfection, but it still affected his pride.
“I be searching for a friend and her bairn. Dorcas sent me here, wherever here might be.”
“You know Dorcas Swann?” She slapped a meat pie and a bridie on a serving plate made of thin parchment, and passed a bottle of brown sauce toward him. “I know her. Rae Wilson and his friend Gavin, know her, too. I haven’t seen those boys in a while, though.”
“Gavin is me brother. Have ye seen a beautiful lady with hair the color of a banked fire and eyes as green as sparkling emeralds?
“I did,” she said, “and a cute little boy. He kind of looks like you.”
“Truly? ‘Tis imperative I find them. Danger lurks.”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced side to side, then whispered, “Is that old guy going to harm them? I thought they were a typical family.”
“Nay! I mean, aye. He means to harm them, I fear.”
“Wait right there.”
As he chewed, the window slid shut, and a side door opened, near the rear of the wheeled structure. The pretty creature stepped to the ground. She wore a muslin apron over a simple serving wench’s dress of gray wool. Her short-sleeved shirt was dark blue. On closer inspection, he noticed a shock of white in her hair. As she gazed up at him, her eyes were filled with worry.
When she went to grab his hand, he shoved the remainder of the food in his mouth, and set his other on the hilt of his borrowed dagger. Following close at her heels, with his fingers entwined with hers, they headed up the hill. He spied a large meadow, surrounded by odd-looking orange fencing. Dozens of men in plaids walked around the inside of the circle, while hundreds of people roared and clapped from outside the barrier.
The men wore the same-colored shirts, and stood around several others, who wrestled with a large tree trunk.
“They’re turning the caber to see who can do it the best.”
“I doono’ understand. When we need to cross a ravine or deep river, we toss a tree trunk from our side to the other. If it sets fine, without rolling into the ravine, we survive.”
“Well, here each man carries it forward, then tosses it end over end. The one who makes it land the straightest, at what we call the twelve o’clock position, is the winner.”
“What does he win?”
“A trophy and a cash prize. Come on, keep up,” she said.
“Cash. If that be the same as coin, then I understand why so many are vying to compete.”
She laughed, and tugged his hand harder. “Some do it to attract the ladies.”
Niall glanced at the crowd. Lovely young women of every shape and size clapped for the competitors. Some wore lacy white shirts under plaids draped across their chests, while others were in simple shirts and leggings.
“How do ye get the grass clipped short and even? I see no sheep about.”
“The lawn mowers, silly.”
“Lawn…mowers?” The thwack of an arrow hitting its target made him flinch. His female guardian giggled, and pointed to an area close to a stand of trees, on the far side of a meadow.
“An archery event is in progress.”
Niall watched, as another flight of arrows struck several ringed targets. Several men and women, wearing plaids or skins, and with longbows at their sides, waited their turns to shoot. Niall’s fingers twitched. The urge to get his hands on a bow again, made him drag his companion to a stop. “Wait, lass.”
“The archers interest you?” she asked, pausing to catch her breath.
“Aye. I had a longbow, and have put it to good use, in the past.” He turned to look at her. Although his fingers itched to join the archers, and let an arrow fly, he had questions she had better answer truthfully. “Before I let ye lead me about any farther, who are ye, and what do ye know of the woman and lad I need to find?”
The woman glanced at the ground.
Uneasy, Niall squeezed her fingers, trying to get her to respond. Whatever she knew might help him find Blair before his sire harmed her. “Tell me what ye know.”
“Later. Follow me to the historical village.” She pulled her fingers loose, turned, and ran.
Historical village?
Confused by her words, Niall could only follow. They strode higher, following a trail covered with gravel, and dead leaves. He kicked several pinecones to the side, as his frustration grew. Where was she taking him? Toward Blair, or into an ambush?
When the trees lining the path grew dark and thick, and the sounds of the crowds near the competition grew muted, he caught up to her. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted her into his chest, and cupped her chin.
“Hey! Cut that out!” She shoved him, to no avail.
“Ye doono’ make me feel safe, lass. Why do ye no’ share what yer planning?”
“Okay! I’ll tell you. I saw them head to the village, just ahead. I really thought they were part of the re-enactors.”
“Yer words fill my head with more questions than answers, but I must trust ye. Lead on.”
When he released her, she ran fingers over her braid, then raised the hem of her skirt, and sped up the trail.
The trail opened into a clearing, circled by tall pines and massive oaks. Several tents stood by the far edge of the glade, while several camp fires and a smithy’s furnace crackled and blazed. The scent of wood smoke and roasting stew filled the air. People of all ages walked around the area in familiar clothes, while others wore what he assumed was clothing of the times.
Whatever time I have fallen into.
Several men were gathered around the center cook fire. As he and the wench approached, worry filled their expressions, and furtive glances toward a particular tent, sent Niall glancing at his companion.
“They went in there.”
Niall sailed across the glade. Slipping his dagger from his waist, he ran toward the tent, a war cry echoing through the trees.
CHAPTER 23
Blair blinked away her tears. With her hands bound behind her, she couldn’t wipe them away. She didn’t want the bastard to see her fear. Her son crouched in a corner, shivering from fear, not cold. The current air temperature was warmer than where they’d been captured. After a blinding light had knocked her senseless, she’d woken up in a small glade, dizzy and disoriented. Finding Keegan at her side kept her sane, yet her worries increased, the moment Angus Sinclair dragged her at knifepoint toward a tent.
Several people walked around the glade, and she hoped her silent plea for help got someone’s attention. They didn’t look like the kind of people who followed Sinclair. Unlike his mercenaries, the people in the clearing were of all ages. Several looked her way, but Sinclair waved a handful of powder toward them, and their eyes went glassy, as if he’d cast a spell. She thought she spotted a woman wearing shorts, which could mean they had traveled to her time, but Sinclair shoved her into the tent, before she could see more.
“Mama? What are we to do?”
“Shhh.”
Sincla
ir was digging through trunks stacked on the grassy floor of the tent. With any luck, he’d leave. If Keegan could slip out of his bindings, he would untie hers. His fingers and wrists twisted easily, like a pretzel, so her hopes were high. Until then, they would remain quiet and act compliant.
A loud roar split the air. Sinclair jumped. When the bastard pulled out his dagger and flew out of the tent, their time to escape came quicker than she’d hoped.
“Can you release your bonds, Keegan?”
Squirming behind her, he slipped his tiny hands loose. Screams from outside the tent made her stand and head toward the back of the tent. Spying a pair of scissors in a basket of wool, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. “Cut me loose!”
Keegan complied. Shoving the cut bonds from her wrists, she sliced the tent’s back wall with the shears, dropped them, then pushed Keegan through the slit. They headed to the trees. “Move!”
As Keegan ran ahead of her, Blair glanced behind them. She could see her captor as he faced off with a large warrior. She feared Sinclair’s men, or anyone else who aided him in his evil ways, might witness their escape.
“Where shall we go?” her son asked.
“Away from here.” Blair lifted the hem of her skirt with one hand, and gripped her son’s wrist in the other. When he whimpered, he slid her fingers into his hand. “That bastard will pay for causing you pain. You can count on that!”
Through the trees, they ran. When she realized they headed higher up the mountain, she veered slightly to the right. A small stream bisected the woods, causing them to pause. Breathing hard, Blair comforted her son. “Place your hands and wrists in the cool water. It should relieve the pain and bruising.”
Keegan knelt on the thick moss, and did as she instructed. The air was cool beneath green pine trees. As she listened for followers, dead leaves crunched on the opposite side of the creek. She rose to her feet, startling an animal that had paused for a drink. Nearly hidden by the shadows of the forest, the dark fur barely registered. When it raised its large head, Blair saw a huge rack of antlers.
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