THE HEALING HEART

by Zelda Clemens

  He tried to smile and cursed in bitter anger at the sudden pain.

  *****

  Accompanied by Aila, Cailean went about the lake house busily, setting up various traps and showing her how to trigger them. She smiled at his ingenuity, thinking of what life would have been like if he was a farmer on the vast farmlands of the village and applied his tricks and skills to farming the soil. Undoubtedly, he would be very rich and influential.

  Yesterday a clear smell had come to her—Aberdeen roses. Still she didn’t know what this might signify. The littlest comfort was that it wasn’t the fragrance of myrtle blossoms as with her uncle Sebastian.

  Thoughts of a family with him had surprised her, fantasies of how their children might look and number. She couldn’t bear to think this might be their end when this life with him felt like a beginning, a beautiful one.

  She resolved she would do all in her power to make her dreams a reality.

  *****

  Ross mobilized nine armed men, with the plan that once the lady and the man were dealt with, they would cart away valuables from the house. He felt ashamed knowing how the lady had attacked and almost finished him off; her prowess with the biodag was unbelievable. She had sliced open his jaw before he’d realized the dagger was even out. And if his bodyguard had not intervened, it would have been his sure death. Rage boiled in his chest. He would personally inflict grievous torture on her so that death, when it finally came, would be much welcome freedom. The same treatment he would mete out to the man, for daring to acquire his woman. There was no telling what the man was capable of or what reinforcements he might have but subduing them was now a passion. He assigned three more fighters to the group. An overkill was better than anything else.

  And what if they had fled? A rational part of his feverish mind asserted. He would hunt them down to the ends of the earth with the last of his breath on Earth.

  “Save the girl for me,” he wrote on a piece of paper. His lower face was swollen and horribly disfigured. It oozed continuously so it was wrapped perpetually in bandages. “Kill the man on sight.”

  They rode on horseback for the lake house.

  ***

  Donald approached the lake house alone. He had archers planted around the building already, ready to shoot at anyone that attempted to escape the house.

  “Kill anyone that comes out without me,” he said. “He either surrenders to be tried or I kill him with my bare hands. If the girl attempts to escape, shoot her down.”

  Approaching the door, he yelled. “I come in peace, Cailean!”

  ***

  An archer was perched on a grassy ledge, hidden by foliage. He watched as the door opened to the old man and drew back his arrow. All he needed was a flash of movement from within the house, he was that skilled. He did see an exposed shoulder as an arm pulled the old man into the house, but his chance never happened. A biodag from one of Ross’ men, who’d discovered the ambush, sank into his exposed neck.

  There was a cry of rage and a screaming body hurtled from another end of the grassy ledge to the ground below. A hulking man, with blood spurting from his right side, rose and bellowed, “We have been ambushed!”

  Donald’s men sprang out of hiding with shouts, and confronted the new enemy. Pandemonium broke out.

  Amid it all, Ross sneaked toward the lake house, narrowly missed by a randomly swung halbard.

  ***

  The old man smiled at the powerful looking man before him, and then the strikingly beautiful girl. “So, I see ye finally, my son. After all these years.”

  Aila turned sharply to Cailean. “What is he talking about?”

  “Oh, he didn’t tell ye, darling?” The old man feigned surprise. “The same blood runs in our veins, he is my son indeed.” “I am no son of yours, Donald—”

  “Ye are the son of the man who killed my parents?” Aila gasped, unbelieving, backing away from both men. “You, Cailean?”

  “Why don’t ye tell her the truth, Donald!” Cailean shouted. “Donald killed yer father because my mother and I ran to yer father for protection from his wicked, devilish ways!”

  Aila kept backing away, a stunned expression on her face as she backed away.

  “Indeed,” Donald chuckled wickedly. “There is only so much humiliation that a man can bear. Yer father dared to protect my cursed, adulterous wife—”

  “Say another word about my mother and I will kill ye!” Cailean thundered. “Ye were cruel to us our entire life, treating us worse than ye treated ye beasts. And then ye killed a man who protected us. Ye are a wild beast!”

  “And ye betrayed my trust, pretended to be one with the brotherhood and then betrayed yer own brothers,” Donald spat back. “Ye are the lowest of all creatures on God’s green Earth!”

  “Yes! And I will kill the very last of ye kind on this Earth—”

  With a loud cry, the old man flew at Cailean, drawing a biodag.

  That was when Aila slipped out the back door.

  ***

  Ross, spying through a side window, saw a weeping Aila leave by the back door. He also heard the shocking revelation. He could have laughed or smiled, but the pain was excruciating. His opportunity had reared its head. He quietly slipped away toward the back door, unsheathing his biodag. He’d have to knock her out, and then toss her on a horse and head back to inverness. There he would—

  “And what have ye been taught about spying through windows, Ross?” a voice behind him announced.

  He turned sharply in shock and Aila whacked him across the face with a branch, shattering his jaw.

  ***

  His first punch caught the old man in his belly, knocking the breath out of him. A lesser man would have crumpled like a shriveled plant to the floor. But Donald was no lesser man. He countered with a hard elbow jab to his opponent’s temple and then plunged the dagger at his midsection.

  Cailean ducked, catching only a nick in the forearm from what would have been a fatal stab. He punched the old man in the chest and then smashed an elbow into his neck.

  Donald fell to the ground, grimacing in pain. “Ye may kill me, but be assured I have burned the red smoke on yer behalf. Yer brothers whom ye abandoned will hunt ye down like bloodhounds and wipe whatever cursed memory ye seek to create with that woman.”

  “Ye did give me a head start on that count,” Cailean retorted coldly. “I have already begun to wipe out yer cursed memory from the face of the Earth. Wherever Donald Mackay be mentioned, there shall be no man or representative standing in yer name!”

  The old man cried in rage, flying at his enemy. Cailean easily parried away his lunge and smashed a fist into his face, belly and sent him hurtling backward with an uppercut. He picked up a claymore.

  Donald also retrieved his claymore, with a fumbling grasp. “The man whom ye called father after me,” he panted, “was no good man. We together did things in Asia that the basest of criminals would entertain shame for. In Africa, we killed to collect gold. Ye are fighting for a soiled name!”

  “And he spent the rest of his life in repentance and penance,” Cailean returned. “The gold that ye speak of, he had pledged to the Church and the welfare of his daughter. But ye – ye have no repentance or remorse in yer soul for all the years of evil and atrocities ye committed. Ye judgement was served long ago.”

  Donald swung the claymore savagely at him and the other parried it upward and then slid its point toward the old man’s fingers. It was a quick trick which Cailean executed smoothly. Three fingers and the claymore fell to the ground from the old man’s hand.

  As the old man yelled in pain, Cailean unsheathed a dagger and plunged it into his chest in one clean movement, twisted viciously.

  The old man’s eyes and mouth widened in shock and pain as he crumpled to the ground. He was dead before his back hit the floor.

  Cailean barely regarded the body. He turned and hurried out to find Aila.

  ***

  Three warriors, all from Donald’s camp, survived
the skirmish. Bloodied and battered, they started toward the lake house with claymores in their grip. They witnessed from over the distance a woman smash a man across the face with a hefty branch and then repeatedly smash him with the branch as he lay writhing on the ground. They exchanged amused looks.

  If Donald, a strategist equal to Cailean, had had an opportunity to speak to his men earlier before he entered the house he would have warned them about the traps that had been crafted close to the threshold of the house. Perhaps, he had not seen an alternate reality in which he would require the help of his men or he had simply avoided them and took for granted the fact his men would see them outrightly.

  The leading man stepped on a patch of grass and it yielded in an odd manner. He didn’t have time to contemplate the implications. A heavy blade swung from the rooftop toward them, decapitating the two of the men instantly. The third was lucky. The blade merely swiped off a clump of hair and scalp. He fell to his knees, dropping his claymore and clutching his bleeding skull with both hands. So he was unguarded when Aila came around the corner and ran him through with a halbard.

  Cailean burst out of the house at the same moment in time to see her weapon still embedded in the man’s guts. Relief exploded on his face. “Aila!”

  She turned, her face mirroring the same sentiment.

  “I’m sorry I hid who I was from ye,” he said. “Ye father is the only father I will ever acknowledge as mine and I seek to preserve a name for him alone on this Earth.”

  “No,” she said. “Donald is yer real father, and it’s a truth ye cannot escape. But ye renounced his wicked ways and embraced righteousness, even when it turned ye against ye own blood.”

  She stepped toward him. “This is why I will love ye.”

  He hurried forward to embrace and kiss her. “Will ye marry me, Aila?”

  *****

  They journeyed from Reay to Aberdeen by coach, pausing at several towns along the way when it was growing dark. They arrived and went to St Machar's Cathedral where they handed over half of the gold that had been unearthed at the lake house. At the entrance to the cathedral were Aberdeen roses growing in full bloom. Tears stung the eyes of Aila as she recalled the last fragrance she had perceived. It had been peace indeed.

  There was no home any longer at the lake house, or in Reay or even in Scotland anymore. One morning, it was with great joy that Aila told Cailean of the new signs of life stirring in her.

  “We will need a completely new life,” he responded. “We cannot live anywhere that our enemies will be able to reach us.”

  “And where would that be, my love?” Aila queried.

  “Spain,” he responded. “We will make our way to Spain and then decide on yet another course from thence.”

  ***

  The hacienda they purchased was located close to a lake and surrounded by the woods. Aila had ensured she got her another lake house.

  Cailean oversaw his sprawling plantation of apples, pears, oranges and mandarins. The quality of his crops was unmatched in the market and other plantation owners came to seek his advice on their own crops and vegetables.

  Aila joined him to town several times a week to and from the market until she was too heavy with child.

  When the child was born, a female child, they named her Rebecca after her mother.

  THE END

  Another bonus story is on the next page.

  Bonus Story 20 of 44

  The Hiding

  Description

  Avery Woods is a single woman who owns a wine shop in Breckenridge, Colorado. She wants to renovate her shop for the upcoming Oktoberfest. Mr. Murphy, an elderly friend and neighbor of Avery, suggests a carpenter to her who is a new settler in town. Mr. Murphy takes Avery to Mason, the carpenter, who lives at Primrose Path with her weird sister, Evelyn. Mason agrees to help Avery in refurbishing her shop. Returning from Mason’s barn, Mr. Murphy finds his dog missing from Mason’s yard. Thinking it might have run home, Avery and Mr. Murphy go back to Mason’s. Mason starts renovating Avery’s shop.

  Avery befriends Mason and soon discovers that Mason likes her. He invites Mason and Evelyn for dinner, and they encounter a moose in Avery’s backyard. The very next morning Avery freaks out finding a dead moose brutally killed in her backyard. Cops are called. She knows that these kinds of savage killings have become an often phenomenon in entire town.

  Cops notify her that a new officer is appointed from the US Forest department to investigate the killings and he will be visiting her soon. Rumors spread of werewolves in the town. Ethan, the newly appointed officer, visit Avery’s shop. Soon Avery finds that Ethan also loves her. Avery holds a soft spot for both Ethan and Mason in her heart. But soon she discovers facts about Mason and Ethan which she had never thought of and her whole life turns upside down.

  *****

  Oktoberfest is one month away, and Breckenridge already looks prepared to host the biggest staple of Colorado. Kids’ skiing team have begun their practices to deliver a grand welcome to the celebrations with their performances and stunts. The Martins are excited about participating in a 5k trail run and are seen every morning hunting the beautiful Aspen forest. Mr. Jefferson bands with the boys and is seen practicing Oompah tunes in his backyard every evening. Katie, Nancy and Amelia keep the tailor busy stitching their “Miesbacher tracht” which they have to wear to the Polka dance. Excitement can be seen in new teens that have turned twenty-one this year and are eligible to have their steins and beer tokens. Everyone in the town seems overwhelmed with the coming Oktoberfest, and I’m so worried about my shop.

  Every morning, Mr. Murphy along with Buffy, his icky “khugsa” dog, returning from Carter Park would stop by my shop for beverages and breakfast. Mr. Murphy was a fat bellied mug-faced man who was in his late fifties. Every morning my day started with his nags on my rusting shop. Sometimes remarks from his giggly face were bitter enough to make me think that I should burn down my place. But somehow, I calm myself to overcome such self-harming emotions. His generous daily jabs motivated me to take the step and reinvent my shop. I asked Mr. Murphy if he knows any good carpenter who can help me in renovating. “You can find one at Primrose Path,” he said. “He is a new settler in Breckenridge so you can hire him for cheap.” Being somewhat thrifty I gave a thought to his suggestion. But to make sure about the quality of work, I asked Mr. Murphy about the carpenter’s crafts.

  “I see him every morning working with his tool, lady, so I know what I am talking about,” Mr. Murphy said agitatedly furrowing his brows. “But for some reason, Buffy doesn’t seem to admire the gentleman’s work.” Sometimes it is hard to figure out the wit in his words.

  I asked Mr. Murphy to take me along with him to the carpenter's place. He nodded his head. “Tomorrow at 6 am, I will fetch you from here, be ready”. The next morning Mr. Murphy, Buffy and I reached Primrose Path. It was a quarter-mile walk from my shop located on Ridge Street crossing the Blue River. As we stepped inside his gate, Buffy resisted going inside and barked. Mr. Murphy glanced at me and giggled. “As I said earlier, for some reason Buffy doesn’t admire the carpenter’s work.” I smiled back at him. Mr. Murphy tied Buffy at the gate, and then we stepped inside the barn. We wandered around the barn and found the carpenter chopping wood in his backyard. A tall white brawny man with the chiseled body was playing with his axe. It wasn’t hard for me to guess that he was in his early thirties. He was half-naked, and his bare barrel white chest and round shoulders were glistening with droplets of sweat. His thighs were muscle-bound. For a while, my eyes were stuck on this henchman. It was pleasing for me looking at him swaying his hand in the air and twirling the axe just above his head and striking at the piece of wood, splitting it neatly in two pieces. When he stretches his arm above his head, his face grew strains which made his face look tough and more attractive. He was busy at his chopping without noticing us, and I was admiring him. Mr. Murphy broke our focus with his cough. He stuck his axe on the base log and turned toward us. He quic
kly passed his glances from Mr. Murphy to me and grabbed his shirt.

  “Well, hello how can I help you,” he said. His voice was dark but smooth.

  “This young lady has some business with you Mr…,” Mr. Murphy answered.

  “Mason, Mason Taylor,” he raised his hand to shake with Mr. Murphy.

  “I am Murphy Benson, and she is Avery Woods,” Mr. Murphy introduced us. “Hello,” I stretched my hands, and he grabbed, I felt his clutch firm and rough on my palm. “Hello! Why don’t you come inside,” he greeted and invited. He led us across the yard and made us sit out on the porch while he went inside the house. I noticed Buffy was restlessly pulling her lease to loosen itself. After a while, Mason came out with mugs of beer. A skinny white girl with curly hair followed behind. She was wearing weird outdated clothes. “She is my younger sister, Evelyn.” Mason introduced her. She looked a bit hesitant and shy from her body language. Mason gave the beers to us and sat in front of me. Grasping the beer, Mr. Murphy wheezed, “We are already warming up for the Oktoberfest.” Mason and I smiled.

  “So what business brings you guys here? I couldn’t be of much help, I’m new to the town, and I don’t think, people know much about me,” Mason asked with a curious face and subtle smile.

  “I was searching for someone who can help me in renovating my wine shop before Oktoberfest, and Mr. Murphy told me you are a good worker,” I explained.

  “But how do you know that I am a woodworker? As I told you I’m new here and hardly anyone knows about me.” Mason showed a gentle smile while reasoning me. On this, Mr. Murphy stepped in and explained to Mason how he had seen him daily working in his barn.

  While Mr. Murphy and Mason were talking, I glanced at Evelyn. She was standing at the door, holding the knob with one hand. I noticed she was staring at Buffy as she had never seen a dog before. Suddenly she moved her face from Buffy to me and caught me seeing her. I smiled at her and brought myself back to the conversation.