Laird of the Mist

by Foery MacDonell

  The cheerful proprietor had been a boyhood friend of Hamish, and though it had been a few years, recognized him instantly.

  Armed with directions, they set off down a winding, forested road to find the home of the witches of Kingussie.

  Hamish led the way to the door and knocked loudly. Relieved to have found the place, he waited for an answer.

  ―Aye?‖ A tiny, blue-eyed face looked out at him.―What d‘ye want?‖ she asked impatiently.

  ―Mistress Henderson,‖ Hamish said, politely bowing to her.―I am Hamish MacPhail. Perhaps ye remember me?‖

  ―Hamish MacPhail,‖ she repeated, searching her memory.―Oh aye,‖ she smiled, recognizing him and opening the door wider.―‗Tis been many a year. Do ye come through.‖ She gestured in invitation.―

  Margaret,‖ she called over her shoulder,―we have guests.‖ Then to Hamish, ―Sit ye down and tell me why ye‘ve come after so long an absence.‖

  ―Thank ye kindly.‖ Hamish stood before the sofa and put a hand on Olivia‘s shoulder.―First, may I introduce ye to my granddaughter, Olivia MacPhail? And this is my grandson-in-law, Carrick Laird MacDonell.‖

  ―Laird MacDonell?‖ Her eyes went wide at that.―Oh my, please accept our hospitality. And ye too, Miss Olivia.‖

  ―Did I hear ye right, Mary?‖ Another tiny lady stepped into the room. They looked like aging faery twins, both with speckled hair and bright blue eyes.

  Ye heard,‖ Mary acknowledged her sister.―‗Tis Hamish MacPhail and his granddaughter, Olivia,‖ she made the introductions.―And this is Laird MacDonell.‖ She nodded toward Carrick.

  Margaret looked each one over closely and said, ―Ye must stay to tea. I‘ll fetch it right away,‖ and was out of the room before anyone could reply.

  ―Do ye sit,‖ she invited again.―And tell me the reason for yer visit.‖

  Hamish began to tell Mary the tale of what had brought them to this point, interspersed with remarks from Carrick and Olivia. Margaret had joined them with scones and tea, and sat listening all the while with rapt interest.

  When Hamish finished the story, Margaret spoke up for the first time.―A fascinating tale, to be sure. But what has it to do wi‘ us?‖ she asked suspiciously.―Well, ye see,‖ Hamish began gingerly. ―I recall ye have the - er - gift and we were hoping ye could help us.‖

  ―Help ye how?‖ Mary broke in.―And who says we ha‘ the gift? Ye believe that old gossip?‖

  ―I believe it,‖ Hamish said flatly.―All of Kingussie kens it.‗Tis no a secret.‖

  ―No,‖ Mary sighed and sat back in her chair.―I s‘pose it isna at that. Still...‖

  ―I traveled here wi‘ the help of the gift,‖ Carrick spoke up.―I ken it can be done. I am proof of it.‖

  ―He speaks true. And we did help a traveler once. He wanted to go to the future.‖ Margaret nodded, putting a hand on her sister‘s arm.―But that was long ago and we never kent if our efforts were in vain.‖

  ―He just,‖ Mary began with an airy wave of her hand, ―disappeared.‖

  ―Then surely it must have worked.‖ Carrick leaned forward in earnest.―Are ye willing to try again?‖

  ―Oh my goodness,‖ Mary exclaimed.―That is much to ask. I dinna ken if we could, if we still have the strength of the gift.‖

  ―It canna hurt to try.‖ Margaret was enjoying the thought of adventure.―If my wee sister doesna wish to help ye, I will,‖ Margaret stated emphatically.

  ―Oh, all right then,‖ Mary relented.―Tomorrow night is full moon. We can try then. We need time to set things in order.‖

  ―Come back tomorrow at eight o‘clock in the evening.‖ Margaret smiled at them.―And we shall make the attempt.‖

  Carrick let out a long sigh of relief. If all went well, he would be reunited with Cat tomorrow. Hopefully, it would be in time to prevent any harm coming to her.

  Chapter Ten

  ―I am too going with you!‖ Olivia blocked Hamish‘s path in the middle of the sidewalk. They had come to Inverness the night before to purchase needed items for their journey through time.

  ― No, ye are not,‖ Hamish argued back, trying to step around her.―Come now, lass, let me pass. We must be on getting these things.‖

  ―Why won‘t you let me go?‖ Olivia was furious with him.―She‘s my sister, you know. I‘m not a child. I am twenty-one-years-old and you‘re being ridiculous!‖

  ―I explained it to ye before.‖ Hamish sighed in exasperation.―‗Tis too dangerous for ye. I couldna bear to loose ye.‖

  ―Nor I you,‖ she responded, softening her voice.―But you‘re sixty-five. You‘re too old to be galavanting through time. What if the soldiers get you? You‘re too old to wield a sword!‖

  ―She has a point,‖ Carrick said from behind them. He had come out of a shop where Hamish had been purchasing coins and jewelry to use as currency.―Perhaps ye should reconsider,‖ he added.―Mayhap the family should stay together in this, aye?‖

  ―Yes!‖ Olivia cried, grabbing Carrick‘s arm in agreement.―All for one, you know?―Anyway, you can‘t stop me. I‘m going.‖ Olivia stood her ground.

  ―Aye well…‖ Hamish shook his head in resignation.―I see I‘m outnumbered. Ye must take care, mind? And stay out of trouble, ye wee sprite. Agreed?‖

  ―Agreed.‖ Olivia hugged him.―I‘ll be careful, I promise. Now what else is on that list of yours?‖ She took the paper from his hand and looked it over carefully.

  ―Neurofen?‖ She frowned.―What‘s that?‖

  ―Ibuprofen with codeine.‖ Hamish looked over her shoulder at the list.―For fever, aches, pains, and the like. I havena time for proper medical supplies, so I must do what I can at the chemist.I‘m mightily concerned about the lack of effective medicines in the 1700's.‖

  ―Let‘s get on with it, then,‖ Olivia urged.―It‘s nearly noon and we still have a lot to do,‖ she said as she resumed walking down the street, Hamish and Carrick trailing behind.

  They walked along the River Ness, stopping in shops as necessary. As they progressed under Friar‘s Bridge, Carrick suddenly stopped.

  ―Ye must excuse me,‖ he said softly, his eyes on a high steeple down the way. He strode determinedly ahead of them and they struggled to keep up. As they neared the lovely Old High Church, Carrick disappeared into the narthex, leaving them standing in the surrounding cemetery..

  ―What is he doing?‖ Olivia asked Hamish softly.

  ―I‘m no certain, Olivia,‖ Hamish answered.―I suspect he means to pray. Perhaps we should join him, aye?‖

  ―I suppose you‘re right,‖ Olivia agreed as they entered. They stood in the narthex for a moment to adjust their eyes and finally located Carrick. He was kneeling at the Altar of the Holy Family, his head bowed deep in prayer.

  Silently, Hamish directed Olivia to a pew and they settled on the kneeler in front of them. Both began their private prayers for their journey to come and Cat‘s protection.

  Olivia, who had never been religious, found solace in the serenity of the place. The fragrance of sweet incense permeated her senses and calmed her.

  They prayed for a long while, each sitting back into the pew in silent contemplation until the other was finished.

  Carrick, who had been immersed in his own meditation, ended at last and came to join them.

  ―Come,‖ he said with a new confidence.―With the blessings of the saints, let us be on our way to her.‖

  ― I canna find Anne,‖ Cat raced into the hall where Ian was holding a bundle of blankets. They had taken Molly and Morag to the herdsman‘s shelter the night before. Cat, Anne, and Ian had returned to the house to gather a few last items.―She was in the kitchen no twenty minutes ago.‖

  A shadow crossed Ian‘s face at the news. They had heard cannon-fire in the glen an hour earlier; the soldiers could arrive at any time. Besides, Anne was barely seventeen and a tiny thing at that.―Ye looked in the yard, aye?‖

  ―I did,‖ Cat answered.―And she isna there, nor in the hou
se.‖

  ―We must find her.‖ Ian laid the blankets on the floor.―Let‘s check the barn once more. Mayhap she went to be certain that last goat went.‖ They had released all the livestock during the night, except for a stubborn goat that would not budge from his comfortable surroundings. Anne had done everything to coax him out to no avail.

  ―I canna believe she would risk herself for a silly goat,‖ Cat said as they hurried toward the barn.―‗Tis no rational...‖

  A piercing scream rent the air, stopping them in their stride. Loud sobs and more screams emanated from behind the barn, and Cat knew it was Anne. Oh, my God. The soldiers are here at Beinn Fhithich.

  Ian‘s eyes held the same recognition as he urged her, ―Get ye to the smokehouse.‖

  The screams stopped abruptly and did not begin again. Cat‘s legs would not respond, and she stood staring at him in horror.―Jenny!‖ He pushed at her.―Go!‖

  ―Lady MacDonell,‖ an English accent haughtily addressed her as she turned to go. ―And the laird himself.‖ The sneer was audible in his tone.

  A tall, dark-haired soldier in his redcoat stepped from the barn‘s shadows not ten feet from them. How had she not noticed him?

  Cat and Ian stood frozen, not daring to breathe. The soldier approached, blood speckled on his face and a dripping sword in his hand.

  ―Do you think to escape me again, Lady MacDonell?‖ he asked as he came closer to Cat.

  ―Now do not pretend you don‘t remember me. After all, we did share such a lovely moment until your late husband interfered.‖ He was within inches of her with his arrogant smile.

  His features familiar, Cat searched her memory and retrieved it. She began to tremble as she recalled him, a Captain Caldwell Camden. Lord Caldwell Camden. An English Lord with a proclivity for rape and murder. She had met him in earlier days, before Prestonpans, before Culloden.

  Oh, dear Lord, she recalled. She had met him at Invergarry castle. Laird John had never been openly Jacobite, playing both sides with aplomb. Lord Camden had been a guest there, though a secretly unwelcome one.

  After failed attempts to seduce Cat that evening, Carrick caught him ravaging Cat‘s unwilling mouth. They had been bitter enemies since, as he had remained in the area to spy on Laird John, among other Highland lairds.

  ―Ah, I see that you do remember,‖ he said, triumphant at the sight of Cat‘s revulsion.―Shall we go on where we left off at the castle?‖ He put his filthy hand around Cat‘s throat and pulled her close so that her lips met his. His putrid breath stung her eyes and she choked as his tongue dug into her.

  ―Leave her, ye bloody Sasunnach bastard!‖ Ian roared, a piece of fallen branch in his hand. With a swift arc from an arm accustomed to a sword, Ian brought the branch down on top of the captain‘s head, which caused Cat to bite a piece of his lip. In response to the useless blow, Camden drew back and slapped Cat full-strength across the face—so hard that she flew several feet before hitting the rocky ground.

  ―You sorry, pathetic piece of Highland shite,‖ Camden began slowly, his attention diverted to Ian and the blood that splattered as he spoke.―I‘ll see you dead in hell...‖

  ―Captain,‖ a lieutenant, with a corporal by his side, interrupted him.―All is in readiness, sir,‖ he reported.

  ―Very well, Lieutenant,‖ Camden answered, his eyes still fixed on Ian.―Hold this man,‖ he ordered them. The two soldiers did as they were told and held Ian painfully in their grip, his arms forced behind his back. His vain struggle was no match for the powerful men.

  ―I should kill you.‖ He spat blood in Ian‘s face.―You should have gone to Culloden with your dead brother. I would, however, rather see you suffer for a time before I return and send you to join him. You shall never protect that God damned Scottish bitch again. Turn him round,‖ he commanded his men.

  Cat was half-aware as she saw the men obey and hold Ian still. Camden took a dagger from his waist and bent to the back of Ian‘s legs.

  ―This will remind you not to ally yourself with whores,‖ he swore, as he leaned and deftly sliced the backs of Ian‘s ankles. Overcome with pain and unable to stand, Ian fell to the ground and lost consciousness.

  ―Ian,‖ Cat tried to cry out to him, but her voice was gone. Her last memory as she sank into unreality was the smoke of the burning barn and the cry of ravens overhead.

  ―‗ Tis different than Morag‘s way,‖ Carrick commented to Hamish and Olivia as they stood in the glade behind the witches‘ cottage. They had arrived punctually and were watching the sisters prepare the spot.―They are drawing something on the ground,‖ he said.

  ― Aye.‖ Hamish nodded. He had some knowledge of the ancient ways, having had a grandmother who practiced them.―A five-pointed star—a pentacle. It symbolizes the four elements plus the fifth for spirit.‖

  ―What does it do?‖ Olivia asked, fascinated with the proceedings before her.

  ―Aye well,‖ Hamish began, watching a thick mist begin to crawl across the ground around them.―I believe they will use it to summon the elementals from the four directions, then cast a circle to bind them and protect us.‖

  ―It is time.‖ Margaret came to them, a sword in her hand.―Do step ye into the star. Ye each stand on a separate star point, aye?‖

  Cautiously, the three did as she asked.

  ―What now?‖ Carrick asked, holding tightly to the canvas bag full of items they had deemed necessary for the coming trials. Olivia and Hamish each carried their own full bags.

  ―Ye do nothing,‖ Mary replied solemnly as she handed each a sprig of pungent rosemary for protection.―Be ye still and concentrate on yer lady,‖ she told Carrick.―We shall do the rest.‖

  The three were silent as the Henderson sisters began a low, melodic chant. Carrick felt the hair rise on his arms in response to the fog that gathered and swirled. It was similar to the sensations he felt when Morag sent him to Cat.

  Olivia, dressed in the old-style gown she had worn for Cat‘s wedding, began to feel nauseous and eerily chilled. She watched closely as Margaret used the sword to draw a circle around the perimeter of the star, closing the travelers within it.

  Strange, ancient music engulfed the three; the skirl of bagpipes rising, accompanied by the beating of bodhrans that pulsed with the blood in their ears. The intensity of it so painful, Olivia nearly cried out.

  Hamish and Carrick noticed her distress and took her hand on either side. They held hands, squeezing tightly as the music and chants blended into one cacophony of vibration and rendered them unconscious.

  Carrick roused himself slowly, mentally checking every muscle and bone for signs of injury. The only aftereffect he felt was a slight ache in his head. Definitely not as bad as the last time he traveled, he thought. If he had, indeed, traveled successfully.

  He raised himself on one arm and gazed about him. There was the pool, the seeing pool, a few feet away. And there, on the other side, was a prone Olivia; Hamish next to her.

  He was home! he thought as he got to his feet. They‘d done it! All that remained was to be certain they had come to the correct date, then on to find Cat. The thought of seeing her soon made his heart dance. Best get everyone moving. He urged himself on to where the others were waking.

  ―Did we make it?‖ a groggy Olivia asked, as she shakily got to her knees, careful not to trip on her skirts.

  ―We are in the proper place, aye,‖ Carrick answered as he extended a helping hand to her.―No certain of the date yet. Here,‖ he said as she got to her feet.―Let‘s help yer grandda.‖

  Hamish stood with their assistance and shook his head.―That was quite the experience,‖ he reflected, smoothing his rumpled jacket.―Are ye both all right?‖

  ―Aye,‖ Carrick answered, gathering their bags and readying himself to leave the pool.―I am thinking we will go to thewitch‘s cottage. If all is well there, we can go on to Beinn Fhithich.‖

  ―Sounds good to me,‖ Olivia agreed, putting the bag over her shoulder.―Let‘s
move our assess then.‖

  ―Olivia.‖ Hamish grabbed her arm.―Need I remind ye of what Carrick and I counseled ye? Ye must speak like a Highland lady, no a twenty-first century tart. Aye, lass?‖

  Embarrassed, Olivia bowed her head and looked at Hamish. ―Aye, grandda.‖

  ―And what else, ye elf?‖ Hamish wanted to be certain Olivia would not give them away.

  ―You and I are Jenny‘s grandda and sister come from Edinburgh.‖ She had memorized the story they would tell and the identities they would assume.

  Carrick had told Hamish of Jenny‘s grandfather and sister, who had the same first names. He told them how Jenny‘s grandfather had taken her three years-younger sister to Edinburgh with him after Jenny‘s mother abandoned the family. Jenny stayed with her father, William MacHendrie, in the Highlands, and had not seen her sister since the latter was a tiny child.

  Hamish checked with the clan genealogist and discovered they died in 1745. That they were buried in Edinburgh was the only information they could gather. If Cat remembered them, she would be devastated, Carrick thought. He would tread carefully on the subject when the time came. For now, there were greater issues at stake.

  As they found Morag‘s cottage empty, but familiar things in place, they assumed they were in the correct time and walked on to Beinn Fhithich.

  Carrick felt increasing unease in every step and his stomach surged when, through the moon‘s full light, he saw smoke rising from the direction of the great house.

  ―Christ‘s blood,‖ he swore as he ran up the hill.―Hurry,‖ he called back to Hamish and Olivia, who had also noticed the smoke.―As fast as ye can.‖

  Carrick ran to the top of the hill, his blood pulsing like ancient war drums and dove under a thick gorse hedge.

  ―Cursed whin,‖ he swore at the bushes as the thorny spines dug into him. His keen eyes surveyed the area around the house for traces of soldiers. In the light of the burning barn, it appeared they had gone. Olivia and Hamish joined him, more wary of the thorns than Carrick had been.