by Jane Stain
On hearing Jaelle’s name, Deoord’s features softened. He quit fading. "Jaelle is a blessing tae my people, and I dinna mean ainly as the wife o’ my clan chieftain and mither o’ his bairns. She is o’ prime import tae us as a fighting teacher. Her training in the ways people fight in the future hae gained us the upper hand in the region. We are safe on account o’ her expertise.”
This made Sarah smile even though her tears still flowed. “Jaelle did in all ways wish tae be a fighting teacher.”
Deoord drifted to her on the breeze, and when he put his ethereal hand on her cheek, Sarah thought for a moment she actually felt contact. “I can see that ye miss yer friend and regret the loss o’ her company. Yer loss is oor gain. I ken ’twas na yer choice, but I thank ye for the sacrifice nonetheless. We are verra glad she came tae oor time."
Sarah might have imagined it, but Deoord looked over at Eoin in disapproval before he was gone.
They were ten steps away from the grove when Sarah heard her name and looked back to see the ancient druid had returned.
“Dinna fash ower much,” he called out to her. “The portals dinna open tae the sacred groves, but always several hoors ride, sae nay one can surprise us there.”
She shared a confused look with Meehall, and then the Druid faded away for good.
14
Meehall rushed to keep up with his brother, hurdling over roots and kicking acorns on his way out to the perimeter of the sacred grove. He couldn’t see them through the thick trees, but he knew the Murray clan’s warriors stood guard out beyond them. Without a care who heard, he shouted, “Eoin, wait for the rest o’ us. Ye dinna want tae leave us, dae ye? We wull hae yer back in a fight afore any o’ the Murrays dae!”
Even as he said this, Meehall knew his brother did wish to leave the Murrays behind. The druids sent Eoin on errands, which because of the MacGregor curse, Eoin couldn’t refuse. The Murrays couldn’t know about the errands or the curse anymore than they could be allowed to find out about time travel, or there would be hell to pay from the druids.
The first Murray Eoin encountered was one of the men usually sent to scout, young and light on his huge bay gelding. "Bran, quick, gather the other scouts and fly. The Cameron clan is camped west o’ here. We hae tae find them. Gae!"
Bran was running off to find the other scouts when he ran right into Searc, the Murray clan chieftain, who stopped him. "Nay sae fast," Searc said as if to Bran, but he was looking right at Eoin. "I would hear all that went on with the druid ye summoned."
Meehall had caught up now, and he approached Searc. "’Tis true. The Druid did say the Cameron clan lies west o’ here, and na far. He bade us make haste, says an abomination be planned for Sarah's clanswomen."
Meehall admired Searc’s calmness and level head. The clan chieftain looked to where Sarah, Ciaran, and Baltair were just now coming out of the trees. "Baltair, what transpired in there? Did an auld Druid appear, indeed? What did the man say?"
Eoin leaned in. "We already telt ye what he did say. As well he said we must needs make haste—"
Searc turned on Eoin, and Searc’s hackles were up: spine rigidly straight, shoulders back, considerable muscles bulging. When the chieftain spoke, it was with the strength of power realized, rather than the yearning of power sought. “I thank ye, Eoin, for doing what ye could tae find the answers we seek. I wull now decide what is tae be done, ye ken?"
Eoin opened his big fat mouth to protest and get himself shunned by the whole Murray clan, if not Meehall, Ciaran, Baltair —and Sarah and Malina as well.
Meehall put out a hand on his little brother's arm and pulled him away from Searc.
Eoin turned on Meehall with a fist ready to strike his nose.
But Malina was there now, and she stepped in front of Meehall just in time. "Eoin, Searc is the clan chieftain."
Eoin seemed on the verge of objecting again, but looking into his wife's eyes, he slowed his breathing. His mouth closed from a grimace, and he slowly lowered his fist to his side. "Aye, o’ course Searc is the clan chieftain, and we await his decision on what should be done."
Searc had turned his back on Eoin the moment Meehall pulled him away. The chieftain was facing Baltair, who was giving his own recollection of what happened. Which was the same as Meehall's and Eoin's.
Apparently satisfied, Searc looked up into the setting sun. "We make camp just west o’ here. Bran, rally the scouts and gae west. Find the Camerons and return."
***
Meehall didn't notice it amid the hubbub of setting up camp, but once they were seated around the family fire, he saw the worry, sadness, and downright despair in Sarah's eyes. Feeling guilty for ignoring his friend's distress, he reached out and gathered her up against him in a hug as they sat there side-by-side in the dirt by the fire. For a moment, he merely held her as they watched the flames rise against the darkness outside their wee family’s circle of light.
But in a minute she was sobbing out her tale of woe as she clung to him and her tears wet his shoulder. "Nadia and Ellie are wonderful friends, Meehall, as wonderful as ye and Jaelle and how Eoin used tae be. We were all such wonderful friends, remember?"
"Aye, I remember." He ran his hand in small circles on her back, in an attempt to calm her.
She kept sobbing. "Nadia went oot o’ her way tae make me feel at home when I first came tae Celtic University. She is the one who invited me tae lunch that first time and said tae come back every day after. I ken the three o’ us are the ainly American clarks at Celtic, but she didna hae tae dae that. She makes me feel like we hae been friends forever." She struggled against her sobs. "And Ellie. Ellie is sae much fun, sae full o’ wonder. But she has been hurt in her past, Meehall. She tries tae hide it by jesting all the time, but ye can see it if ye pay her heed. 'Tis a crime that I let such a person fall intae such a dreadful situation."
"Wheesht." Meehall kept trying.
But she clutched him in obvious agony, sobbing and going on. “How could I be sae stupid as tae bring such peace-loving women tae this feud-driven time? They are such angels, sae selfless and good. They dinna deserve what I hae brought them tae! They could be safe in the hallowed walls o’ the school, writing and smiling and pressing flowers, but I hae dragged them intae a hell! Their bonnie faces wull be drawn in horror ere long!”
As he continued trying to mollify Sarah, Meehall noticed something.
Ciaran and Baltair were sitting around the fire, too, but they weren’t talking, not even in respectful hushed tones, like Eoin and Malina were. They were careful not to look at him and Sarah, but it was obvious to Meehall that his distant MacGregor cousins were listening intently to Sarah’s portrayal of the other two modern women.
Meehall didn't get the chance to soothe Sarah into calmness.
Eoin jumped up when Searc was passing by their fire. "If 'tis true the scouts hae found the Camerons, then now is the time tae attack. While we can surprise them. Afore we are spotted!"
Meehall deliberated for just a moment. On the one hand, he had a friend who needed comforting. On the other hand, his stupid brother was going to get himself killed by the clan chieftain. It was a close call, but he chose his brother, jumping up and jogging over. "Eoin, let Searc make a plan—"
Eoin rounded on Meehall. This time, he did slug him. He kept slugging, making Meehall duck about. "Had yer wheesht! Ye are a coward, Meehall. A coward who would rather sit aboot the fire with the auld folks, blubbering about how bad the waurld is. This calls for the action o’ warriors, na the blubbering o’ cowards. Stay behind. Let the warriors attack. Now. This verra night."
Meehall wasn't going to take this from his younger brother, no matter how big Eoin had gotten. He ran at his brother and tackled him.
The two of them rolled around in the dirt of the pathway through the camp, all jabbing elbows and snapping teeth, like two small boys.
Meanwhile, Searc rallied the clan. "Warriors! We ride this verra night. Past the inn and clear up the mountain afore we sleep.
At first light, we attack."
15
In the earliest light of the morning, Sarah and Snow reluctantly stopped to let Meehall and Smoke go on without them. Meehall was to follow Eoin, Ciaran, Baltair, and the Murray warriors down the last hill of the mountain to attack the Cameron camp. Sarah was to stay put in the relative safety of the trees that ended here.
Putting on a brave, grateful face and letting Snow prance about a bit for the show of reining her in again, Sarah told Meehall, “Dinna waste any time at heroics, ye ken. Just get my friends and come back. Ye dinna hae tae take oot my revenge for me.”
Meehall drew the back of his hand across his forehead in exaggerated theatrics. “Whew! That is such a relief. I thank ye.”
Sarah shared a smile with one of her oldest faire friends, a smile born of the love of acting.
And then without further ceremony, he turned and rode off at a gallop to catch up with the others, long hair and kilt both billowing in the wind.
She watched him and all the other warriors ride with mixed feelings. They had to rescue Nadia and Ellie, simply had to, but Meehall might be hurt, or even killed. Sarah wasn't selfish enough to tell him not to go, to put his life up as more important than the lives of her girlfriends. Never. But the idea of losing him tore at her heart in a way it hadn’t the first time he rode off to rescue them.
She knew her mistake. She had let herself get attached to Meehall again, woe be to her. How had she let that happen in the span of just a few days? More importantly, how was she to undo it in less time than the years it had taken before?
“Hell mend ye, Sarah. Ye did bring this upon yerself. Ye kenned ’twas his bracer and he would want it back. Ye poked the boar, now take its wrath.”
The Murrays reached the camp, and even from her distance up the hill, Sarah could hear swords ringing against each other in battle. They hadn't caught the Camerons off guard. Of course not. They were Highlanders too. They had set watches. But it appeared to be going in the Murray favor.
Sarah made herself take regular breaths. It wouldn't be over soon enough.
Straining her eyes to see in the distance any sign of Nadia and Ellie, she froze. Amid the fighting —and apparently unnoticed by anyone else— stood a woman in a white hooded robe. This woman was chanting, but the words were indistinct at this distance.
As if the druidess were invisible to everyone but Sarah, the warriors clashed swords behind her, but she remained not only untouched, but unregarded.
Certain it was what she must do, Sarah urged her white horse slowly forward into the thigh-high grass beyond the cover of the trees. She needed a better look at this female druid. Had to see what that face looked like. Had to hear which words she was uttering. It was important.
The everpresent Scottish cloud cover grew thicker, further dimming the feeble light of the sun.
A tiny voice in the back of Sarah’s mind objected. ‘This is na yer duty. Ye are meant tae stay behind, where ‘tis safe.’
‘Why should I, when clearly I must investigate? Ainly I can. The warriors dinna hae a clue o’ this druidess’s presence.’
‘There be a reason,’ her mind insisted, ‘a good one.’
‘Wull then, what is it?’
‘Uh… wull… Ye see... ‘
‘Ye are na verra convincing. I just need tae be a mite closer tae the lass. I hae tae ken what she says. Simply hae tae ken.’
At first, Snow willingly carried Sarah around rock and tree toward the white-robed chanting woman. But about three quarters of the way down the hill, the horse braced against going forward.
Annoyed, Sarah kicked the horse’s sides. “Yah! Yah, Girl!”
Nothing. Well, the horse’s tail whipped up and slapped Sarah’s back with a sting. Pesky flies.
Sarah leaned all the way forward and squeezed with her lower legs. “Yah!”
This time, the tail hit Sarah’s butt with a fwap.
There was nothing for it. Sarah got down off the horse. Her foot caught on the quarterstaff tied there. She wrench the staff free to get it out of the way and then figured she might as well carry the staff. Absentmindedly, she twirled it around herself like the broom she practiced with at Celtic as she walked toward the druidess.
Snow blew air out her nose, stomped, and munched grass, flapping her tail about all the while.
Whatever. Just a little closer, and Sarah would be able to see the woman's face, discern the words of her chant.
Sarah was running down the hill now.
‘Run from boulder to boulder, and hide!’ urged that pesky voice in the back of Sarah’s mind.
But Sarah ran as fast as she could these last few yards. Any second now, any moment, she would see, would hear. Would know what she desperately desired to know. Ah!
Up close, the woman's face was ageless, but that of a mother. It was kindly and beckoning, and the woman's voice! Comforting was the best word for it—
Out of nowhere, Sarah felt acute pain in her left arm, making her yell, “Ouch!” and turn quickly to see what had happened. She felt her quarterstaff make hard contact with something as she turned and heard a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the ground.
Pain!
Oh, how her arm hurt!
Sarah looked around, puzzled. Apparently, the pain brought with it a loss of memory somehow. What the heck was she doing out here in the middle of the battlefield? How had she gotten here? She couldn’t indulge her puzzlement, though.
A sword came at her, and she assumed it had been what hurt her arm.
She thwacked the sword away with her quarterstaff, but her arm was growing weak, and come to think of it, so was she, in general.
“Fer the luv o' God, Sarah! Ye agreed tae stay away from the battle!” Meehall rode up from behind her attacker and took him out.
Spots danced in the air before Sarah’s eyes, and her knees buckled.
Meehall rode Smoke over to break her fall.
She passed out.
***
Sarah woke up in front of Meehall on Smoke’s back. Anxious, she turned —and was relieved to see Snow being led behind them. "Ye hae the right o’ it. I should hae practiced more with my quarterstaff. But the druids at Celtic frown on their clerks training with weapons."
When he didn’t say anything, she set her sails for a different tack. “I thank ye for catching me. Where is it we gae? Is na the battle still on, back there?"
He tensed up the slightest bit, behind her. "Aye, it is, but ye need a safe place tae rest, and tae heal from that wound. What were ye doing anyway, Sarah? Ye promised tae stay behind."
She tried to answer, but again she saw spots.
This time, he pulled her back against him as she slumped into blackness.
***
Sarah was much more comfortable when next she woke, in a bed with a roof over her head. But she grabbed Meehall’s hand as he moved to put it on her forehead. "We canna hae returned tae Inverness already, can we? I canna hae been oot that long, and ye canna hae ridden us that far away from Nadia and Ellie. Tell me ye did na."
He took her temperature with his other hand and seemed convinced she wasn’t feverish. "Nay, we hae na returned tae Inverness. Ye wull recall we passed an inn on oor way tae Cameron camp last night, at the top oo the mountain. ’Tis where we are nae. Ye are safe enough. The Murrays were winning the battle, when we left."
She tried to get up, but her arm stung something awful, and besides, she felt woozy. Why… Oh yeah. “I must hae lost sae much blood, as I am utterly spent.”
"’Twill all be right.” He got up and moved toward the door. “Ye are settled nae, sae if ye wull excuse me—"
She tried to get up again, desperate not to be left behind. "Nay, dinna leave me."
He hung his head dramatically. "’Twill na be for long. I just gae doon tae the kitchen tae get ye some tea. Tae help ye sleep."
More like he needed to go back and help his fellow clan members in the battle. She shouldn't hold it against him. He’d done too
much for her already. He was right, she was safe here. Best to be gracious about it. "Verra wull. I thank ye for bringing me here, Meehall. On with ye." She even made a shooing gesture.
"Right back," he told her as he turned around and closed the door.
She heard him walk down the stairs. Well, at least she wasn't entirely helpless. She had the bracer in her bag and she could use it to go back to the 21st Century, if worse came to worst and he didn't come back.
Get a grip on yourself, Sarah.
Fortunately, her backpack was in reach. She fished out some antiseptic ointment and dabbed it all over her wound, then bandaged it up as best she could with one hand.
But wonder of wonders, she'd no sooner done that than the door opened and Meehall came in with a cup of tea. He set it down on the nightstand, sat on the bed, tenderly helped her sit up, then picked up the tea and held it near her mouth. "Here, ye need tae drink this sae ye can sleep and heal."
With butterflies in her stomach at how tender he was being, Sarah made herself stop and think. Was it a sleeping tea as he had promised?
But this was Meehall. Sure, he had left her without so much as a goodbye all those years ago, but he had never hurt her. He had saved her life today.
She took the tea. "I thank ye." She drank it down all at once. "I thank ye verra much."
He looked at the bandage on her arm and over to her bag. "I see ye hae been busy."
“Aye, antiseptic ointment for the win."
He laughed a little. "Good. I'm glad ye had that. Unheard o’ in these times, ye ken."
Feeling a little slap happy, she joined in. "Ye dinna say?"
He smiled at her tenderly, making her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
But the effects of the tea were surprisingly fast, it having been drunk on an empty stomach, and before long at all, a deep black sleep enveloped Sarah.
