by Julianne Lee
A shudder ran through her. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve watched you grow from a wee one, awaiting the day ye might care to come away with me.”
“I would not ever care to go, I think.”
“Far better than death.”
“Indeed not.”
The faerie’s face darkened. “Then ye’ll die, for I am the only one who might save ye. That weak mortal has not the power to cheat fate, and neither do you.”
“Is my father to die?”
“Aye, and there’s no saving him. If I could, I would not, for he would not allow me to take you.”
As the faerie spoke, the door to the house moved behind him, and slowly opened on silent leather hinges. Nick, ducking under the lintel, saw Fionn and a hard look came over him. He gestured silence to Beth, stepped inside and eased the door closed behind him, then squatted on his heels against the wall to listen.
The faerie’s words swam in her head. Her father was to die in the massacre. Beth said to Fionn, “You say fate cannae be changed?”
“Aye. Except by me.”
“And how do you have the power?”
“’Tis the way of the Tuatha De Danann. We have powers ye cannae imagine.”
“Have you changed anything yet?”
“Nae. All is as fate would have it. You will die in the massacre if I do not change it.”
A smoldering look came over Nick’s face, and he said, “So now you believe what I told you?”
The startled faerie leapt to his feet, and turned, his icy blue eyes wide with surprise. He backed up a step or two.
Nick continued, “Up until I told you what I’d read, you had no idea she was even one of the thirty-nine who died.”
“I know of the deaths.”
“But you don’t have a clue who will die. Only I knew that. And did you tell her about what you did to her regarding Gòrdan?”
Beth blinked. “What did he do?”
“He wasnae for you!” cried the faerie, desperate for her to believe him.
She looked at the faerie. “What did you do?”
Nick said nothing, but the faerie blurted, “That Gòrdan saw what he wished to see!”
She peered at the strange creature before her. “Gòrdan? He saw...” Then she realized. Gòrdan had seen her with a black-haired man, who didn’t exist but he was sitting before her now. “You. It was you. Gòrdan thought he was telling the truth.”
“He wished it to be true!”
“Aye, I’m certain he did. But must you have obliged him, and let him think he was in the right?” She picked up a wooden plate from the table before her and threw it at the faerie. He leapt away and it missed, but she picked up another and held it to throw. “Get out! Get out of my house, you faerie! Leave me be, and leave my husband alone!”
“He’s nae for you!” Fionn squatted and cowered on the bedroll, fearing for his safety but unable to flee with Nick blocking his path to the door. Beth wondered why he didn’t simply vanish, and thought perhaps his fear made him confused.
Nick said, “Send us back to the future, Fionn.”
The faerie whirled on him. “Do ye wish to go by yerself? Wish it and, it will be so! Wish yourself to the future, ye mortal!, Ye thieving mortal!” There were tears in his voice, and he raised his hand as if ready to cast a spell then and there.
But Nick said nothing, and the hand dropped slowly. The faerie sobbed. “You’re nae for her. Not you.” Then he did finally disappear.
Nick stared at the spot where Fionn had been, and he bit his lower lip in contemplation. Quietly he said, “He’s our only way home. We are so screwed.”
Chapter 19
It sickened Nick to see the MacDonalds so friendly with the soldiers and Beth so terrified of them. The men played ballgames in the day and sang songs together at night. It wasn’t a comfortable truce, but far from what Nick would have expected, even without knowing what was to come. The smiling faces on the soldiers made him go cold, and he eyed their commander, Glenlyon, each time he appeared, wondering if that one knew yet what his orders would be. It was all too... friendly.
Then on the morning of the twelfth one of the clansmen took his family and left the village. Without fanfare, a single household of the Hendersons simply walked away with their cattle. Headed toward Ballachulish, they would make it before dark and would be safe from the soldiers and freezing weather. Nick saw them in the distance, and doubted anyone else thought anything of it. He knew what was going to happen, and now he thought some others had guessed as well. Or had been warned.
Another family disappeared as well. Nick pulled his coat close around him against the stiffening wind and hurried to find Seòras. The old man was at home, sitting by the fire and making a pair of leather gloves.
“The massacre is going to happen tonight.”
Seòras’s old, gnarled hands worked with the awl slowly, and he kept his concentration on his work as he spoke. “Then we’re forewarned and will kill them before they kill us.”
“You can’t win. They’ll murder Beth.”
“They’ll do no such thing, for she’s but a woman. And if they were to try, there are three of us here to protect her.”
“I think you should pack up and leave. Now.”
Beth stood at the other side of the room, quiet and watchful to know what her father would say.
“I’ll not abandon my home to be burned by the Campbells.”
Nick stepped toward Seòras, wanting to shake some sense into him, but kept his hands off and in fists at his sides. “Your daughter, Seòras!” Then he sagged. “My wife.”
“Then take her and be gone. I recommend it, and then you will not need to face the soldiers yourself.”
“I won’t go, Father. Not without you.” Beth stood beside the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Nick knew she hoped Father would agree to go. It would be best if they all took what they could carry discreetly and make for Ballachulish. But she was adamant she wouldn’t go without Father and Dùghall. “I willnae.”
Seòras looked up at Nick with a doubtful eye. “You cannae control your wife?”
“You raised her.”
Seòras grunted, but a smile played around his lips. He said, “She’ll be safe. Even Campbells won’t kill women. ’Tis ourselves who will be in danger. And that only by the word of a wild faerie.”
“Three women and two children will die by the sword tonight, along with thirty-four men. And many others will die of exposure in the cold up in those mountains after being chased away.”
“Then those mountains are not the place to be just now, are they?”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re as cold and inhospitable now as they will be tonight. The snow is coming down even now, and is piling in drifts with the wind. What will kill those people who run away is there now, waiting for us to run away.”
Nick looked over at Beth, who suddenly was involved with preparations for supper. He said to Seòras, “Others have left.”
“Cowards.”
It was useless. Nick made a hawking noise in frustration. The man was as stubborn as his daughter. Nick eyed them both, and figured he was going to end up killing Liam Campbell. Possibly Duncan Muirhead, too. He didn’t relish the prospect, but would do it if he had to. Even if it meant dying in the massacre himself.
That night he was able to talk Beth into keeping all her clothes on to sleep. She went to bed alone, and Nick sat up by the fire to keep an eye on their pet soldiers while the other three family members slept. Privates Campbell and Muirhead lay on the floor by the fire, pretending to sleep. For several hours Nick watched and dozed, and they never seemed to sleep at all. Each time Nick came conscious and glanced over at the prone forms, there was the same tension. They lay in exactly the same positions, unmoving, and breathing as in wakefulness. Nick wondered who they thought they were fooling.
In the silence of midnight, when the world outside seemed dead, the soldiers stirred and began readying themselves, p
ulling together their uniforms and gathering weapons.
Nick opened his eyes. “What’s up?”
A jerk of Liam’s hand gave him away as startled. “Beg pardon?” Duncan went about his business, only taking glances at Nick.
“Where are you guys going?” Nick’s pulse thudded. He tensed, and half-hoped for an excuse to draw the dirk in his belt and have it all over with. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair hard, to keep his hands still.
The young soldier wouldn’t meet his gaze. “The guard has been doubled tonight.”
“Oh. Guard duty.”
“Aye.”
There was a long silence as Liam buttoned himself up and began donning his baldrics. The bayonet went into the musket muzzle and he slung it over his shoulder. Just as he ducked out the door, Nick told him, “Keep your powder dry, dude.”
Liam glanced back at him. Without reply, he ducked out the door and Duncan followed.
Nick rose in a hurry and went to the bedroom. “Seòras.”
The old man continued snoring. Nick reached over to shake Dùghall awake.
“Dùghall. Get up. Wake up, man.”
Dùghall snorted sleepily and rolled. “Chan eil...”
“Get up.” Nick gave him a sharp shove. “The soldiers are on the move. Privates Liam and Duncan are out and about with their buddies.”
Nick’s brother-in-law snorted, looked over at Nick, and sat up, rubbing his face awake. “Athair,” he said as he swung his legs over the side of his bunk. He said something else in Gaelic, then dropped to the floor and reached over to shake the old man, went to pull on his coat. Seòras hauled himself out of his bunk and began pulling his kilt around himself for belting. Dùghall said to Nick, “We’ll go to the white house and tell Inver—”
“I’m going to stay with Beth.”
“Hang back with the women, ye mean,” said Dùghall.
“Make certain she’s safe.” Nick was fed to the teeth with this crap. “Whatever that makes me, it’s what I’m going to do.”
Seòras sighed, pushed past Nick, and slipped his dirk into his belt. To Dùghall he said, “He’s but one good arm, son. Leave him be, for he’s of more use here.” Then to Nick, “Keep your dirk at hand, lad, and if she dies you’d best be dead before her.”
Nick said only, “Yeah.” Duh.
Seòras and Dùghall pulled on their coats and hurried out into the frozen night.
Beth’s voice came from the bunk. “They willnae return.”
“I hope not. I hope they get away.”
“They willnae. They’ll try to fight, and they will surely die.”
“No, they won’t. Nobody will. Once they see how outnumbered they are, they’ll take the safest course and avoid the soldiers. They’re strong men and not stupid. They’ll trust me to get you out, and they’ll be able to save themselves. They’ll make it out, once they’ve seen the truth.” He ducked his head to look into her eyes. “Believe it, Beth. They’ll be all right.” He only hoped he wasn’t lying, for he knew Seòras and Dùghall were very brave and stubborn men.
She sagged onto the edge of her mattress, looking lost. “Should we go? Make our way to Achnacone and Achtriachtan to warn them?”
“No. Those villages both have billeted soldiers. We’ll stay here. Maybe my being here has changed things enough we won’t see Liam again. In any case, we’ll wait until we have to leave.” It was one thing for Seòras and Dùghall to wander about in the night, but Beth was pregnant. At this time of year dawn came at nearly mid-morning. He hoped she would sleep a while. Once they were forced to flee the house, it would be a long, cold walk to safety. He said as he stoked the fire to a healthy, warm blaze, “Go back to bed. Nothing is happening yet, and the cold out there is as deadly as the soldiers.” Devil and the deep blue sea.
She lay back down in the bunk, and he settled into old Seòras’s chair to doze for a while. He slept more heavily than expected.
Hours had passed when he was awakened by distant popping noises. Alarm surged, and Nick’s heart pounded hard. The fire had died to embers again, throwing almost no light to the room. The sounds came again, barely audible between gusts of gale, a series of pops like firecrackers. It was musket fire, many guns all at once, like a firing squad.
Execution.
He called into the next room, “Beth, wake up. It’s starting.” The reality of this thing he’d only understood as history slammed into him and knocked him breathless. People were starting to die. He was struck by the silence now and gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles. There was no shouting. Only sporadic gunfire that sounded like nothing. Like kids shooting off firecrackers for no reason. Somehow the calmness of it made it the more frightening. In the distance came a scream, then silence. Then another scream, and another. They were thin wails of women. Then in the winter night drifted a long shriek of terror and grief that went on and on. And on. Nick tensed and tried not to wonder who it was and who had been killed. He wished for silence again. Then, suddenly, the scream stopped short, and he wished mightily it hadn’t. His gut turned.
Just as he rose from the chair, the door opened and in came Private Liam, his sword out.
“Campbell!” Behind the opened door, Nick drew his dirk and kicked the door closed with a slam.
The young soldier jumped, startled, and spun on Nick. In the scant light his eyes were wide and frightened. He stood at en garde, his back to the corner of the byre wall, a thick column supporting the roof tree.
Beth’s shadow appeared nearby. “Nick—”
“Beth—”
The soldier reached over for her as she emerged from the bedroom, and drew her to him. His blade went to her neck.
“Nuh!” Nick took a step toward them, but checked himself. “No, Liam! Don’t hurt her! I’ll kill you! I swear, I’ll kill you if you hurt her!”
“I must. ’Tis my duty. We’ve all been ordered to not leave anyone alive.”
“The men. You’re only supposed to kill the men.”
Confusion crossed his face, then he frowned. “What do you know of my orders? Do you think you know my duty?”
Nick’s jaw clenched. He was sick of this, and only wanted Campbell to drop his sword. “Are you a coward, to kill a woman? And she’s pregnant, for God’s sake!”
“And she hates Campbells, and will teach her child to hate us!”
Desperate to get Beth away from him, and appalled at himself for allowing the soldier to get hold of her, Nick leaned forward to close some distance between them. Did he dare take a step? He slid one foot forward, and when the kid tensed Nick stopped. “You don’t want to kill her, Liam. I know you don’t. If you do, you will regret it the rest of your life. And beyond. You will never, in eternity, overcome the stain on your soul.”
The soldier’s voice cracked like a teenager’s. “’Tis my duty. My orders.”
“It’s wrong. You know it. The man who gave the order is wrong, and he’s evil. You must find a way to not be a part of this. I know you, Liam. You’re angry, but your heart isn’t blackened like theirs. The evil hasn’t touched you yet. But if you use that sword, you will never be the same as long as you live. This isn’t battle. It’s murder.” Nick’s throat closed at the memory of finding Beth’s name on the list of murdered. “Do you hear me, Liam? Are you listening?”
“If I do not follow orders, I will be tried as a traitor.” The distress at his untenable position showed in his wide eyes and trembling voice.
Nick’s mind flew for a solution. Anything to keep that blade away from Beth. “Then take me.”
Beth burst into tears. “Mo Dia, no! Chan eil, a Neacail!” She squirmed hard in Campbell’s grasp.
Nick gestured for her to be still. She listened and obeyed. Once she stopped struggling, Nick then said to Liam, “Not my life, but my blood.” He pulled up his right sleeve, took his dirk and with a quick flick of the blade put a short but deep slit in his already bad forearm. The blood rose and ran quickly, and he held out the arm. “Wipe y
our blade across this. Tell them you killed me. I promise not to stick around to call you a liar.”
Private Liam looked at the arm. The gash hurt like fire, and Nick wished the guy would hurry up and figure this out. Softly, Nick said, “You don’t want to kill helpless people, Liam. I know you don’t. You want to be a soldier, not a murderer.”
Slowly, carefully, Liam reached out his blade and wiped the flat of it across Nick’s reddened arm. Then again to blood the other side. He let go of Beth, and she went to Nick’s arms. “Go,” said the soldier. “Hie yourselves far away from here and do not look back.”
Nick reached for Beth’s cloak, drew it over her, then grabbed his own coat from the wooden peg.
“Wait,” she said, and she ran to a cupboard. From it she took a linen cloth, a piece of salt beef, and the end of a cheese. She tied the food into the cloth, and hurried back to Nick. She slowed in passing the Redcoat and his blood-smeared sword, then she took Nick’s hand. The dirk went into his belt, and he guided Beth from her house.
“Halt!” Outside the door something snagged Nick’s coat, and Nick whirled to find Duncan Muirhead.
Without a moment’s thought Nick slugged him, caught the button of his chin, and the soldier went down like a bag of rocks. Out cold. Nick shook his hand out and grabbed Beth’s again.
At a flat run across the dooryard, Nick and Beth made it to the trees just as a pack of soldiers with torches were making their way toward Seòras’s house.
Chapter 20
Beth nearly wept with relief that they were still alive, but now was not the time for weeping, for the cold was piercing and already ice was trying to form on her eyes and nose. She gripped Nick’s good hand with all her strength as they fled. The wind drove snow hard against them, huge flakes that skittered over the hard ground before coming against drifts here and there. The darkness was nearly complete, and they stumbled along toward Ballachulish, navigating almost entirely by her bone knowledge of her home. They came to the pasture near the white house, and hurried across it toward the safety of trees on the other side. Figures moved in and out of the tacksman’s home, and Nick pulled her along the faster to avoid being seen.
