“This one doesna’ belong where the child is…why should we grant ye this request?” The third voice’s musical lilt seemed deeper then the other two….more mature as though she were the oldest of the three.
Magnus frowned into Mattie’s face, then his features slowly relaxed as he carefully formed his answer. “This one is gifted for this world…but shunned, understood by few if any. The one she killed was descended form the Auld Ones that didna’ serve ye well. If we leave her ta’ this world, they’ll kill her or worse yet…imprison her. Look at her spirit…see if it wouldna’ serve ye as well as I.”
Mattie glanced around in all directions, trying vainly to see through the velvety darkness. After a few moments of silence, she suddenly felt a chill running down her spine. As she stood next to Magnus, she felt as though a thousand fingers were upon her, feverishly tickling across her skin. As she reached out grabbing blindly into the darkness, the fingers gently lifted her off her feet. She stared frantically down at the ground below as she floated higher into the air, squirming nervously over the ground as she waited for her body to fall. The wind roaring in her ears, she felt as though bursts of air were gushing through her entire body. Just when she thought she was about to lose consciousness, she was gently returned to the ground at Magnus’ side.
“She may go,” the three voices intoned in unison, the last one tinkling with laughter. The winds soon began circling Magnus and Mattie as the first voice spoke once more for the last time. “Keep her well…Magnus…guide her and teach her the proper ways. We dinna want ta’ be needlessly disturbed again.”
With that said the winds suddenly whipped away from them, leaving them standing alone upon the hill. Looking into Magnus’ face, Mattie whispered sadly, “I guess you’ll be leaving now too?” Dropping her eyes to the ground, she dreaded facing the fate that awaited her for the taking of Drake’s life.
Smiling as he turned her to head them down the other side of the hill, Magnus rewarded Mattie with an affectionate pat on her shoulder. “Aye…’tis time for me ta’ go,” he agreed. “But ye’ll be comin’ with me as well. Pay close attention now and do as I say so that the next time we must jump betwixt the planes, ye can travel through the passage with ease.”
Chapter Twelve
Taylor lay perfectly still; not attempting to open her eyes as she mentally inventoried her body. Her head was throbbing, that was painfully obvious. Her stomach felt as though it had been turned inside out. Her arms and legs seemed to still be attached but were aching as though something had attempted to pull them out of the sockets; her arms pinned as though weighted down by something quite heavy.
A cool damp cloth easing across her forehead caused her to flutter her swollen eyelids, vaguely struggling to focus on the blurry image hovering just above her face. As the fog slowly cleared from her vision, she blinked hard at the smiling face before her. Her eyes widening with fear, as she stared at the pointed ears and the oddly angled eyebrows splaying across the pointed impish face. Taylor blinked again trying to decide if she was dreaming or if she had finally gone insane. The delicate creature with the wide violet eyes and pale green skin smiled as she continued to gently bathe Taylor’s face.
“She be finally awake m’Laird,” the strange being beside her said. The voice was delicate and airy, light as a feather…almost musical in its tone. Taylor stared in silent amazement, afraid to move as the curious individual tending her aching head nodded in her direction with a smile.
“So she is.” Taylor recognized Quinlan’s deep Scottish burr as his face appeared slightly behind the head of the unusual nursemaid standing beside her bed. Her eyes growing wider as she tried to remember everything that happened, her heart racing with panic at her surroundings, Taylor weakly struggled with the covers of the bed.
Edging protectively between Taylor and the creature, Quinlan placed a gentle hand against Taylor’s cheek. “Dinna be afraid of her lass,” Quinlan whispered reassuringly as he lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Zelda’s been awaitin’ ye for almost as long as I have. ‘Twas she that used ta’ tend ta’ yer mother.”
Finally finding her voice, Taylor squeaked through dry parched lips. “What are you talking about?” she asked, flinching as she tried to inch her body closer to the wall.
Pulling the heavy fur blankets up closer about her chin, Quinlan bent to plant a kiss on Taylor’s clammy forehead. “Zelda is what those on earth might call a sprite…she served yer mother in this time where ye were first born. But ye must rest now…the passage through the gateway was harder on ye then I had thought ‘twould be. Ye’ve no’ been among us for nearly three days now.”
“Three days?” Taylor gasped, as the sound of her own voice split through her head. Glancing wildly into Quinlan’s face, she weakly shook her head. “When can we go back through…get back to Mattie and Drake? The beam of sunlight…will it still open the cairn?”
“Ye must rest child,” Zelda soothed, narrowing her eyes at Quinlan as she covertly motioned him away from Taylor’s bed. “When ye’ve grown strong once more…gateway can then be talked about. The Laird will explain everything.”
Taylor finally managed to worm her arm from under the fur, struggling to reach out and pluck frantically at Quinlan’s shirt. “When will it be open again?” she insisted. “Do I have enough time to get stronger?”
Quinlan reached down covering her pale delicate hand with his own, her tiny fist disappearing in his large grasp. His gaze fell uncomfortably upon Zelda’s frowning face. “Ye have time, Taylor…I promise ye all the time that ye need. Sleep now…ye must rest before ye’ll ever grow stronger.”
Exhausted by the brief struggle to reason out her circumstances, Taylor finally closed her eyes. Her body still physically depleted by the passage; she was temporarily appeased by Quinlan’s answer. His face riddled with guilt, Quinlan stared down at Taylor’s peaceful face, his heart twisting as he reminded himself that soon….when she was stronger, he would have to tell her the truth.
Spurred by the fear of alienating Taylor now that he’d finally gotten her back, Quinlan turned quickly to stride out the door, grabbing his cloak from the hook as he left. Wrapping it closely about him, Quinlan seemed oblivious to the icy rain pelting down from the sky. He walked along the dry edge of ground beneath the overhang of the roof, finding his way to a roughly hewn bench nestled against the wall beneath a shuttered window. Leaning back against the cold stone wall of the tower, Quinlan stared up into the icy rain. Clenching his jaw, his eyes narrowed grimly as he wearily rubbed the dark stubble of his beard.
Quinlan had always known that once Taylor had crossed through the gateway, she would never be able to pass through again. After all, the alignment of the stars sometimes took hundreds of years before the correct pathway was once again made available to those seeking to return from whence they’d come. He’d soothed his conscience for not making Taylor aware of this slightly important bit of information by reminding himself that he was forbidden to help her to cross, forbidden to do anything but plead with her to join him. Besides, this place was where she truly belonged…her soul had originated not far from this very mountain. But as he looked down into the valley at the scattered twinkling lights below, his conscience grudgingly reminded him that he had also sworn Magnus to secrecy, lest the truth keep Taylor from stepping into the cairn.
“Her will have ta’ be told eventually m’Laird,” Zelda’s musical voice intoned into his reverie. “But ye must wait ‘til the child is stronger…Her most nigh died with the crossing.”
Turning quickly to Zelda, Quinlan frantically searched her face, panic rising in his chest. “But she is goin’ ta’ be all right? Ye must promise me that Zelda!”
Nodding quietly as her pointed ears lay flatter against her white hair, Zelda scolded Quinlan gently. “I tell’d ye Her was a slowly healin’ m’Laird. Ye ne’er have been one fer listenin’.”
Hugging the slight sprite tightly to him, Quinlan planted a grateful kiss between Zelda’
s oddly arched eyebrows. “Just make her well for me, Mistress Zelda…just make her well. Then I’ll tell her the truth.”
At the sound of a crash from inside the room, Quinlan and Zelda nearly fell over each other as they rushed back inside the door. At the sight of Taylor’s naked body lying crumpled on the floor met their eyes, they each gasped with fear. As they rushed to her side, Taylor stirred slightly; struggling to rise from the rush covered floor. “Taylor! What in the name of the Furies are ye tryin’ ta’ do lass?” Quinlan swept her body up into his arms, quickly placing her back in the bed.
Zelda rushed to cover her with the warm insulating blankets, pausing to rest a thin bony hand against Taylor’s forehead. “Her heat’s a risin’ agin’ m’Laird…put more wood ta’ the flames.” Shaking her head with dismay, Zelda’s lips pressed into a grim line of determination. She’d cared for Taylor’s original mother, seen her through a difficult birth. Now that the child had finally been returned to her place, Zelda wouldn’t allow her to be snatched away from them again. Fussing about Taylor’s fever-flushed body, she placed herb soaked cloths upon her forehead and arms. Shushing reassuringly to Taylor’s fever blind eyes, she worked tenderly about her body.
Taylor stirred weakly beneath the covers, struggling to throw them back. Tossing her aching head to and fro among the pillows, images of screaming faces jumped out at her from behind her eyelids. "Get away! Leave me alone” she moaned, tossing and flaying her heated body against Zelda’s protectively restraining hands.
Helplessly Quinlan stood to the side, his heart wrenching at Taylor’s suffering. “Why did the passing through the gateway make her so ill? Zelda…ye must help her.”
Zelda spoke to Quinlan without taking her eyes from Taylor’s face, trying to still her body with her slender hands. “Ye should ha’ tell’d Magnus to travel with the child. ‘Twas like tossing a babe out amongst the beasts. The lost souls in the passage tortured Her, scratched and bit at Her verra soul. Will take much for this wee one to heal.” Zelda paused as she turned to stare into Quinlan’s pain-stricken eyes. “Her might not ever forgive ye either…once Her finally is tell’d the truth.”
Pacing back and forth across the room, Quinlan watched as Zelda finally soothed Taylor into another somewhat peaceful state. Spooning a sparkling liquid into her mouth, Taylor soon slept with the effects of the crystalline drug. Propping himself into a chair beside her bed, Quinlan took her frail hand into his. Tracing the path of her veins beneath her skin, he cursed himself for causing her so much pain. “I’ll make it up to ye,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her hand. “I promise ye…ye’ll be happy.”
Cuddling her hand against his chest, Quinlan settled deeper into the chair. Placing his cloak about his shoulders, Zelda patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Wake me when Her wakens from Her sleep. Her will need more of the healing broth.”
Nodding quietly, his eyes never leaving Taylor’s face, Quinlan stood vigil the rest of the night.
~*~
The pale amber light streaming through the crack between the wooden shutters landed squarely across Taylor’s face. Gently warming the skin where it lit, Taylor felt the healing rays calling out to her, coaxing her from her deep and dreamless sleep. Inhaling deeply as she slowly opened her eyes, Taylor stretched her arms from beneath the covers, her muscles seeming to awaken to the light along with her mind. Smoothing her hands along the blankets, she lay quietly on the bed, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings as she struggled into consciousness.
Running her hands across the covers, Taylor frowned at the feathery soft pelt covering her naked body. She couldn’t decide what type of fur it was or what animal had sacrificed its life, but she didn’t like the idea of lying beneath the skin of some poor hapless creature.
Carefully turning her head to the side, Taylor was pleased to find that it no longer throbbed with unbearable pain but simply twinged a bit here and there whenever she moved her somewhat stiffened neck. Cautiously glancing about the room, Taylor was surprised to find herself alone. With every foggy trip back into consciousness, either Quinlan or Zelda had always been at her side. Wondering where she was, she eyed the room with interest; since this was the first time she could remember being aware of anything around her since she’d passed through the fated doorway within the cairn.
She seemed to be in an ancient dwelling of some sort, huge roughly hewn stone blocks forming the slightly curved circular walls. Clean dried rushes were scattered across the floor, as a warm friendly fire burned in the hearth. Eyes widening with interest, Taylor stared in amazement at the size of the hearth. It covered the entire wall opposite the bed, the size of the burning logs appearing to be nearly six feet in length.
As Taylor gingerly turned on her side, she realized with some consternation that she was completely naked beneath her blankets. Shifting the covers a bit higher over her breasts, she propped herself up on one elbow to continue visually exploring the room. There was a plank table beneath one of the arched windows and several benches along the walls. Wooden chairs looking as though they’d been shaped with an axe from a single huge log were placed at the head of the bed and in one corner of the room. Several roughly loomed fabric pillows had been tossed carelessly into the chairs; the knobby wool dyed a vibrant crimson to brighten the ancient room.
Heat seasoned iron cookware hung along one wall of the room, and Taylor’s stomach growled in protest as her eyes fell upon the bubbling pot of stew simmering over the fire. As the aroma of the rich broth reached her from across the room, Taylor’s mouth watered and her stomach gurgled again, reminding her that it had probably been quite some time since she’d had anything to eat.
Weakly pushing herself to a sitting position, Taylor gingerly weighed the prospects of actually being able to stand up. The weight of the blanket alone seemed to push her back against the soft feather mattress, causing her to doubt whether she’d be able to even sit on the edge of the bed, much less navigate a walk across the room alone. Her protesting bladder also reminded her of the other reason she’d awakened. If she didn’t find the strength to rise from this bed soon, the feathery mattress was going to get sopping wet. As she struggled to push her legs to the edge of the bed, Taylor glanced around the room again. From the medieval look of the interior of this room, what kind, if any, of a bathroom could she expect?
At that moment the door across the room opened, snowflakes and wind gusting in around the hooded figure carrying several small bundles. Taylor hitched up the blankets closer around her body as the chilly wind reached her across the room. At her movement, the hooded figure stopped, turning quickly toward her and jerked back the hood with a thin bony hand. “Ahhhh, Her finally is awake! Her is sitting as well! Be still now child while Zelda puts away the bundles. Then will I help Her with what Her needs.”
Slightly amused at Zelda’s rather odd form of conversation but still leery of the strange woman, Taylor found herself fascinated by the speed with which Zelda accomplished so many tasks at once. It was as though she was zipping around the room in fast forward, placing the bundles on the table, stoking the fire, stirring the bubbling broth hanging over the flames and then standing at Taylor’s side.
Taylor was amazed by Zelda’s strength as she helped Taylor move to the edge of the bed. The sprite seemed tiny and delicate, probably no taller then about three and a half feet at best. What Taylor could see of her body was quite thin; her arms almost like tree limbs protruding from the unusual floor length woolen shift covering her slight body. A deep green shawl was tied securely around Zelda’s shoulders, which she quickly removed to wrap around Taylor’s shivering body. While Zelda was wrapping her body with the shawl, the faint aroma of cedar and pine wafted through the air. As Taylor inhaled the scent, she realized it was Zelda that smelled so much like a refreshing evergreen wood.
After wrapping Taylor’s body in the warm cozy shawl, Zelda helped Taylor to stand, supporting her as she slowly made her way to a curtained off corner of the room. Leaning
Taylor against a nearby table, Zelda kept one tiny hand on Taylor’s arm as she pulled the heavy leather curtain to one side with the other hand.
At the sight of the worn board balanced across a stone enclosure, Taylor arched her brows in disbelief. Taylor studied the window seat with the accommodating hole, her mouth slightly ajar with doubt. At Zelda’s quizzical look, she stammered, “T-This is the b-bathroom?”
Her slanting brows knotting over her sharply pointed nose; Zelda cocked her head to one side in bewilderment. “Bathroom? Is not the place for Her to bathe…sit on the board…relieve Herself. Zelda willna’ let Her fall.”
Skeptically eyeing the smoothly sanded board mounted tightly in the corner, Taylor wrinkled her nose with displeasure as she positioned her rear over the hole in the center of the board. The cold air blasting up through the hole immediately causing all of her bodily functions to lock shut; Zelda’s presence also completely negated the possibility of relieving her aching bladder. Shivering as she sat perched upon the medieval toilet, Taylor finally sighed, “Zelda, could you please give me a little privacy…I can’t go while you’re standing there watching and the north wind is blowing up my wazoo.”
Arching her slanted brows so high they almost disappeared into the white hair pulled tightly into a bun, Zelda bowed her head slightly with respect as she pulled the curtain shut. Finally talking her bladder into releasing its load before the next cold blast of air whistled up her backside, Taylor sighed in relief as the sound of running water flowing down an iron pipe greeted her ears. When she finally finished, she squirmed a bit on the board, looking in vain for something remotely resembling toilet paper. At the sound of her movement, Zelda’s thin hand pushed through the curtain proffering several wilted leaves. “Clean Herself with these,” instructed Zelda’s musical voice. “Then throw down into the shaft.”
Twice Upon a Soul Page 18
