by Jane Stain
"Katherine, we need to live in the cure, not in the disease. Lauren knows she messed up. She admits it. Rubbing her nose in it isn't going to fix anything. We need to free her from this druid dagger before he takes her over any more than he has."
At first, Katherine kept berating Lauren.
“You didn’t stop to think why a druid would tell someone to give you a magic dagger, did you? No, you didn’t…”
But gradually, Jessica’s words must have sunk in, because Katherine stopped talking, nodded, and then finally gave Lauren a little hug. There were tears in her eyes.
“Jessica’s right. We’re here for you.”
Lauren was crying too now, but they were tears of relief. Her friends were with her. And now they knew why she couldn’t talk sometimes. Why hadn’t she told them during Kelsey’s last dream, or the one before that? This was going to make life so much easier.
Jessica turned to Kelsey.
"You must know how to get her free of this ancient druid’s control. What do we do?"
Lauren felt herself waking up, and that didn't usually happen in the middle of one of Kelsey's dreams. She struggled to stay with her old friend from the Renaissance Faire, hoping she would have an answer.
But Kelsey was shaking her head no.
"I don't know. Imbuing objects with power or presence isn’t my gift. I have a lead on someone who knows, but she’s on an assignment. My bosses won’t let me contact her yet. But I will get help for you, Lauren. Resist—"
That was the end of the dream, because Lauren woke up to Galdus cackling in her mind.
"Now you decide to interact?" she chided.
His answer was far more forceful than she expected.
"Get up and get moving! Ye hae tae find the men! ’Tis only just barely sunrise, and they’re nowhere tae be heard in the house. They’ve gone off somewhere, and ye need tae catch up tae them! They had that auld lass Senga put some aught in yer wine tae make ye sleep! Hurry!”
She rubbed the sleep from her bleary eyes.
"Galdus, I ken ye hae been lying tae me all along, but this lie takes the cake. Ye expect me tae believe that these men who are protecting me would drug me? Losing yer touch, ye are. That is the last thing they would dae."
"Where are they then, seeing how ye ken them sae wull? Ye dinna hear them. I can tell. They drugged ye sae they could leave with nary ye. Arise and catch up w’ them!”
Lauren rolled over on her other side and prepared to go back to sleep.
"As if I do what you say."
In her attempt to get comfy, she plumped up the pillow. Turned it over. Rolled over onto her back and pulled the covers up to her chin. She lay there for a few minutes.
"Thanks a lot, Galdus. You have gone and woken me up too early. I’m missing out on an hour of sleep.”
I might as well go down and help Senga with breakfast, after I use the water closet.
She thought this last part to herself and not to Galdus, determining not to speak to him until the next time she needed his help.
Yeah, he’s better just used and not heard.
That thought made her chuckle as, expecting to see the men gathered around the table talking as usual while Senga made breakfast, she barged through the door to the stairs. And froze. No one was there.
That's right, Leif called a militia meeting for this morning. That's where they are. Awful early.
"Senga? Could ye use my help in the kitchen this morning? I'm up early."
Amena came out of the kitchen rubbing her eyes, poor thing. She cried sometimes when she missed her parents.
Because Galdus could read the thoughts of anyone Lauren had touched, she didn’t dare hug the girl. She made do with a sympathetic look.
"Aw, did everyone go tae toon and leave ye all alone?"
The little girl sat down on the kitchen hearth to warm herself.
"Nay, Senga went doon tae the well, but Leif and them didna go tae toon. They hae gone off tae battle."
Chapter Six
The trek over two mountains to Laird Ualraig’s castle was difficult under the best of conditions, but Taran had never taken it by night before. The moon loaned its faint glow through the clouds so it wasn't completely dark, the horses carried their burdens, and all the men of Inverurie were familiar with the trail, but it was still slow going. The only relief was when Leif stopped from time to time to play his small pipes. So far, they hadn’t heard any response.
To make matters worse, Sky had woken up. The man bragged incessantly. And affrontingly.
“Laird Donald o’ the Isles has ten thousand men, ye ken. He is a real laird, unlike Leif here, who is merely flattered sae he wull bide in this backwater farmland. Though I will say they dae give him beautiful lasses…”
Behind Sky’s back, Taran met Leif’s eyes, curled his lip in fierceness, and mimed hitting Sky over the head, to relieve them all of the insult of listening to him.
Leif smiled, but shook his head, gesturing that they couldn’t risk killing the traitor, as his knowledge was of use to them. Besides, they needed all the horses to carry supplies.
Taran looked, and sure enough, their one horse had been carrying Sky, but now that he could walk it was loaded up with supplies the men had been carrying. He nodded to Leif, signing, “Aye, the men need tae save their strength for battle.”
So Taran put up with the braggart, but the man's ramblings were unbearable. Leif constantly had to sign to the others not to knock the man out —or strangle him. They needed him to stay with them and remain compliant. Useless to their enemy, but an unexpected source of news for them.
Sky's opinion of himself was anything but news.
"I’m Laird Donald’s personal guest for meals, ye ken. Aye, I'm a valuable member o’ his army. Sae valuable that he let me scout on ahead for any lasses, afore the rest o’ them got intae yer toon. And I found three lovely specimens. Too bad they were sae wull guarded. I was really looking forward tae having my fun with them, ye ken?"
Leif had stopped to play his small pipes.
Taran had stopped being hopeful.
But then the response came, distant, on top of the next mountain.
Taran smiled at Leif, signing, “The Wolf is smart. Taking the high ground above the castle will help prevent them from being attacked by surprise in their sleep.”
With his small pipes still in hand and a pleased look on his face, Leif gave the signal for secretiveness while looking askance at Sky, then signed, “Tell those behind you.”
Taran proceeded to do so using their warrior hand signals, which had been much augmented since Lauren arrived and taught them her game of Charades.
But everyone signed back that obviously they knew not to tell the traitor their allies were on top of the next mountain with nearly fifteen hundred knights. What did he take them for?
Seeming oblivious to all this, Sky just kept blathering on about how important he was to their enemy. But when they got near the bottom of the mountain, he edged his way toward the rear guard.
Taran followed, signing to his brother, "Sky expects an attack. Look at him retreating. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Leif nodded, signaling for Taran to hurry Sky away so he wouldn’t notice Leif warning the Wolf.
Once Taran had followed Sky to the back of their militia, he faintly heard Leif’s small pipes and the response. Good. A contingent of men had come down the other side of the far mountain, some with bows, most with swords.
Sky made a show of taking a piss.
Taran joined him, ostensibly to keep him company, but really to keep an eye on him. Unlike Sky, Taran didn't like hiding behind everyone, out of the action.
He could hear the conflict up ahead: yelping in surprise as the Isles men who had thought to ambush the militia were hit by arrows, the militia yelling as they charged, the clash of swords, and the grunts as men fell. It was over before Taran and Sky even reached the site.
All the ambushers were dead.
Alvin was injured, an
d Leif sent him home.
They learned that the Wolf had passed away six years ago. His son by the same name, Alasdair Stewart, Earl of Mar, now led his men. Some of them were greeting the townsmen, and Taran stood by Sky and watched. Leif went over and shook forearms with their leader, a Lovel clansman named Calum, whom Taran had only seen once before, at a gathering of the clans when he was barely old enough to be a warrior. The two talked amiably for a moment and then both turned and signaled for everyone to climb up the second mountain to the earl’s encampment.
Taran didn’t fancy staying up half the night after not sleeping the night before, but Leif and Calum were right. With the Isles men so near on the other side of the battlefield at the bottom of this canyon, it was far too dangerous to camp down here where they usually did on the way to Ualraig’s.
When Luag joined Taran and Sky for this climb, Sky woke up a bit from his obliviousness to stare.
"Aye, the more I look at ye, the more different ye seem from the men here in the middle o’ Scotland. Ye look more like the men from the isles."
Taran wasn't worried about their friend. Luag had been gifted with a silver tongue, and he did not disappoint.
"That's because I hail from there. At least I belong here in this time."
Sky bristled with indignation.
"I belong. Laird Donald has about adopted me as his son, he dotes on me sae. Why just the other day…" And off he went on his bragging.
Behind Sky's back, Luag signed to Taran, "’Tis a good thing none o’ the earl’s men are back here, or ‘tis a certainty they would kill the fool."
Taran signed back, "Why have na we done sae?"
Luag grinned and signed, "Because the fool is sae useful as a source o’ knowledge about the enemy, the way he blathers on."
"At least we can tie him up and gag him once we get tae camp," Taran signed.
Luag didn't sign back to that one. He just nodded grimly. And they did just that before joining one of the campfires to have some supper, after all the knights had fed their horses. The night was long and cold even with the ability to bundle up. Taran snickered to think how cold Sky must be feeling.
In the morning, conscience got the best of Taran, and he got an extra helping of parritch to bring over to the prisoner.
But Sky was gone.
Taran ran through the camp looking for Leif. He found him at Calum’s campfire.
"Leif! Sky is gone."
Leif stood and threw his arms wide.
"I thought ye had the sense tae tie him up!"
"We did. The bonds are still tied. ‘Tis as if the man dissolved out o’ them like suet melting through a net."
Calum raised his brows at Leif.
"The Isles traitor ye informed me o’, the one who lured ye intae the ambush?"
"Aye."
Calum put his hand on Leif’s shoulder. "Recall that they hae the druids with them. All manner o’ things will be possible which usually are na.” He turned. “Well met, Taran. Ye were but a lad the last time I did see ye. Dinna Fash. 'Tis not the usual sort o’ treachery we deal with here. Have a care from now on, eh?"
Taran stepped forward and shook forearms with Calum. "Aye. And I thank ye for yer forgiveness." He looked over at Leif, half afraid his brother wasn't going to forgive him. But he should've known better.
Leif stood as well and came over to clap his hand on Taran’s shoulder. “Calum has the right o’ it. ‘Tis sorry I am for my lack o’ faith in ye.” He turned to Luag. "And in ye as well, old friend."
Now that attention had been put on Luag, Taran noticed that practically all the earl’s men had gathered around to stare at their Isles friend with wary eyes. Taran didn't blame them, but...
He needn’t have worried. Angus came forward and put his arm around Luag. And then Aiden did. And more, until Luag was surrounded by the men from Inverurie.
The earl himself approached, and everyone's head nodded toward him. Fists went to hearts in the warrior’s salute.
Obviously curious about the clump of men but acting unperturbed, the earl walked up to Leif.
"’Twas happy we were tae hear yer pipes, Leif. Glad we are ye hae joined us."
Leif put his fist to his heart in salute.
“Glad I am tae see ye again, Alasdair, but sorry for yer father’s loss.”
The earl blinked in acknowledgement.
Leif continued, “I would introduce ye tae a dear friend o’ mine who has been helping us guard Inverurie against the verra druids who hae now joined with Donald o’ the Isles."
Alasdair Stewart, Glen Allen’s Earl of Mar, inclined his head. "Please dae." He raised his voice so that all around could hear. "Please dae introduce yer friend who has helped defend Inverurie against the druids, Leif. For any friend o’ Inverurie is a friend tae me."
There was murmuring among the earl’s men.
“He does na ken ‘tis an Isles man.”
“Nay, and there will be Hell tae pay when he does.”
“Aye, just ye watch.”
But it quickly died when the Earl stared his men down.
Leif turned to the clump of men and gestured for them to open up and let Luag out. he waited a moment.
Luag came out. Looking calm and strangely regal, he too raised his fist to his heart in homage to the Wolf’s son.
Leif went over and put his arm around Luag, turning the two of them to face everyone gathered around.
"This is my dear friend Luag. He is a member o’ my militia, and any affront tae him is an affront tae me."
"Who is Leif?" whispered one of the younger men to one of the older men nearby.
"He's the Laird over Inverurie,” the older man stage-whispered back, keeping his eyes on Leif. “We may need tae retreat tae his lands, so we would do well tae stay in his good graces, ye ken?"
The younger man nodded, looking at Leif. "’Tis a complicated thing, gaun'ae battle. I thought ‘twould be just fighting, but my mind is coming intae it."
All of the older men laughed, and one of them mussed the young man's hair.
The young man scowled, which made them all laugh again. A few of them lunged at him, and he flinched away.
A frantic scout ran up, no older that he of the tousled hair.
"A messenger from the Laird o’ the Isles!”
Alistair laughed. "I suppose I had better go talk tae him." He looked at Leif, Taran, and Luag, holding his hand out in front of him. "Come, fill my mind with the druids’ methods o’ attack."
As they walked, Leif filled Alasdair in on the manner in which the druids had burned their winter grain stores. He also told how the druids knew that Leif's wife and her friends were … special … and how the druids had tried several times to capture the lasses.
They went to the outskirts of the camp, where two men held the messenger by the arms, also a young warrior. Taran thought he was doing a good job hiding his discomfort and the fear he must have felt at being captive.
The earl stepped out in front. "I am Alasdair Stewart, Earl o’ Mar. And ye are?"
The young man stood a little straighter. "I am Ian MacDonald."
The earl raised his eyebrows. "Donald sent his son?"
"Nay, his cousin."
"I hear ye hae a message for me."
"Aye." The young man swallowed, looking around at all who surrounded him and no doubt gauging his chances of escape. And finding them slim. "Laird Donald bids me tell you that if you will surrender your lands to him, then he will spare your lives… And… And the lives of your wives and children." The young man was shaking in fear now, but he still stood straight and proud.
The earl pretended to think about this for a moment. Letting the young man quake in fear.
"That is na acceptable tae me, but I will give Donald one more chance tae come tae terms. I dinna wish for bloodshed. I will meet with him at sunset out in yon field. We each bring three men with us, nae more. If anyone is within bow range, mind, the meeting is off.”
He turned to the men blo
cking the messenger’s path and gestured for them to part ways.
They parted immediately.
The young messenger turned around and ran.
The men laughed.
Alistair turned and watched the young messenger run until he descended over the side of the mountain, out of sight. He turned to Taran, Leif, and Luag. “Carry the white flag for me this evening."
Their fists flew to their hearts.
They stood watch most of the day, but they had plenty of opportunities to greet those they'd only seen at the last gathering: Irvings, Lesleys, Lovels, Maules, Morays, and Stirlings. Sunset came all too soon.
Taran started out carrying the white flag.
But Luag reached out his hand. "I canna think o’ anything more fitting than if the islander shows up with ye highlanders carrying the verra symbol o’ cooperation. Can ye?"
Taran handed it to him. "Nay, I canna."
Leif noticed their exchange, but seeing that the earl was intent only on scoping out the open field ahead of them, he just shrugged.
After all, they had been brought along to keep an eye out for any threats so that they could shield the Earl, and this they did. It was the longest mile Taran had ever walked on level ground. Even when they arrived at the meeting site and could hear the earl and the laird exchanging pleasantries, Taran was still on high alert, searching his third of the area for any sign of a threat. He watched Donald’s three men just as closely, and they watched him, Leif, and Luag.
It became more and more clear that Donald wouldn’t settle for anything less than conquering all of Scotland.
“Yer people may hae lived on these lands thousands o’ years,” Donald told Alasdair, “but yer ancestors were conquerors back afore the Romans named ye Picts. Ye are nae better than us."
Alasdair tried to be diplomatic. "Yet we are speaking neither yer language nor ours either, but that o’ the Gaels. And yer Viking king o’ Norway ceded the isles tae Scotland in 1266. He was paid handsomely…"
Taran almost fainted, he was so afraid.
Not for himself.
No, he was afraid for Lauren, because for a brief moment she was visible to him. She and Katherine and Jessica were standing just a few feet away there on the grass. The ancient druid in her dagger had brought them there unseen, so why had they appeared, even just for a moment?
