by Dawn Brower
“Ye did this,” Beitris said. “He’d have lived if not for yer insistence I push him out when I did. He needed more time.”
Beitris’s agony and grief rushed over her, making Sorcha stumble back as the emotions hit her hard. She reached out for something to steady her balance, but couldn’t find anything. If she didn’t find her breath soon, she might lose consciousness. “Ye dinna believe that.”
“Woman, ye be all right?” Tamhas Gall asked his wife as he stepped into the room. “Is it done?” He had a stony expression on his face. Gone was the gentleman filled with anxiety who’d come to fetch her earlier. This man before her didn’t remotely resemble him. How could one person be such a mix of contrary emotions? The vicar was so heartless it almost crushed her. Did he not care for his wife and child? He walked over to Beitris’s side and picked up the swaddled bairn from her arms. “Why isn’t it crying?”
“She killed him,” Beitris accused, completely hysterical as she screeched the words. “He never had a chance.”
Tamhas set the bairn into Beitris’s arms. “I should never have gone tae ye for help. Ye be a witch as the rumors say. Ye’ll pay for yer sins.” His voice was accusatory mixed with contempt. His eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Malice poured out of him in waves as he stalked forward.
He picked up a pot and swung it at Sorcha, the blow landed across her face. The bones in her nose cracked on impact, and her face became wet from her own blood. The room spun around her, and she lost all control she had. The emotions in the room overloaded her and—along with the physical blow—undid her. Blackness took over, leaving her easy prey to the one man she feared would be the death of her.
CHAPTER TWO
VISIONS CAME TO CAITRÌONA when she least expected them. Sometimes she understood their meaning, and others were so obscure she could only guess. Most of the time they were things yet to pass, but every now and then, it was a bit of the past, as if some higher being was attempting to prevent her from making the same mistake made by another. Either way, Caitrìona Dalais Guaire, always took what was shown to her seriously.
So, when she was sitting in her cottage with the wee twins, doing a little embroidery in the late afternoon sunlight, she paused to take note of the one that rolled through her. The vision was more a series of flashes that didn’t mean much to her and the first one was of her dear sister, Sorcha, with a babe in her arms. The room unfamiliar, but the other occupants were the vicar and his wife; however, the import of it was lost on her.
The next one was of her husband’s blacksmith shop. Caitrìona stood in the middle of it with the sun setting in the horizon, wearing the same dress she currently wore—suggesting something would happen later that day. She glanced up as someone approached, their fist poised to strike. The pain of the blow connected with her even through the vision. It hurt, but she believed the pain was dulled because of the vision state. When it happened in truth, she’d probably lose consciousness. If she could prevent it, she would.
The next vision was of her husband. He stood on the outskirts of the field leading to Dalais Manor. An angry mob of villagers descended upon it. Torches lit up the night sky as they pounded on the door. Her brother, Niall, opened them wide and addressed the rabble gathered outside. Not long after, they carried him off. Her brother didn’t fight them and appeared to accept his fate.
Fear spread through her belly like wildfire, consuming everything in its path. If this was to come... She swallowed hard as the next image rolled through her. It was of Ailis. She was crouched below in a hidden cellar in Dalais manor. She held Lachlan and the twins in her arms. A silent tear fell down her cheek. Ailis lifted her hand and wiped it away. She leaned down and kissed each child’s cheek, whispering some words to them. She held up a finger to her mouth, perhaps to coax them to be quiet. They were definitely hiding from someone.
The why of it all was lost on her. Caitrìona didn’t understand the reasons the mob had for carrying her brother off. Ailis had looked so terrified as she stared up at the closed latch of the cellar. Were the mob after her and the wee ones? Who would protect them? In that moment, she understood exactly what she must do. All the images, save the one of Sorcha, were later in the day. Sorcha’s must be a past vision, and the rest the future.
She could do something to help her brother and his wife. She might even be able to save herself. Only God could help her dear sister now. She dreaded what fate might befall Sorcha, and she hated to think of it. People feared what they didn’t understand, and Sorcha would pay a heavy price for their superstitions.
Caitrìona stood abruptly and called out to the girls, “Come my wee lasses, we’re tae visit Dalais today.” The girls happily hopped over to her and they started their journey toward the manor. The walk would take them less than a half-hour, but it seemed as if it would take all day.
Her twin daughters were identical down to the dimples in their left cheek and the white-blonde hair that fell past their ears in soft curls. Wee lasses of no more than four, they had much growing to do. Her braw husband believed they looked like her and would steal the hearts of all the young men around them. They did have her coloring, but she didn’t see much else of her in them.
“Ma,” little Moire said.
“Yes, dear one,” she replied.
“Will Uncle Niall play with us?”
Her daughters loved their uncle. He doted on them whenever they visited. Niall was Caitrìona’s twin, and they had a special bond. That connection had carried over to her daughters.
“Love Uncle Niall,” Lili said happily.
“He’ll be glad ye both want tae see him,” she said. “But I dinna ken what his plans are for the day. That’s what I need be finding out.”
She prayed she had enough time to go to Dalais, and then to the blacksmith shop. Caitrìona feared if she missed Daniel, he’d pay the price she’d received in the vision she’d had. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if he was hurt in her stead. It had to be prevented—all of it.
Dalais manor filled the horizon. Her family home had always held a special place in her heart. How could it not? She’d spent her early days growing in its hallowed halls. Her mother had died giving birth to Niall and her—they were twins, but not identical like her daughters. Sorcha was the eldest child and had always taken care of them in little ways. They’d had a nurse who was in charge of their care, but Sorcha was their heart. Their father had taken little interest in them. They were so close to reaching their destination. A few more steps and she’d be inside, and hopefully she’d find Niall there.
She climbed the steps with the twins at her side. It didn’t take them long to reach the top. They arrived at the door a few moments later. Caitrìona pushed it open and gestured for the twins to go inside. “Ailis,” she called out. A few moments later, Ailis came out with Lachlan at her side. Caitrìona scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. “Sorcha’s been here already then?” She thought she might have, but had hoped maybe she’d been wrong.
“Aye,” Ailis said. “She brought the wee lad several hours ago. The vicar’s wife is birthing her bairn.”
The vision of Sorcha had actually come to pass. Caitrìona didn’t quite understand it. What did the birth of a bairn have to do with the other visions? The only connection between the blacksmith shop and the mob at Dalais Manor was her family. “Would ye mind keeping the wee lasses too? I’ve something of import I must do.” She hoped she wasn’t fulfilling the prophecy instead of attempting to thwart it. Though, either way, it didn’t really matter as long as her girls stayed safe—they were more important than her own life.
“I dinna mind,” she said. “It’s good practice for when my own bairn comes.” She rubbed her hand over her belly.
“How is my wee nephew?” Caitrìona placed her hand over Ailis’s belly. The bairn kicked her in greeting and she laughed. “He’s going tae be a braw one.” Caitrìona had once had a vision of Ailis’s bairn after he’d been born. She’d been standing over a cradle, smiling
down at him. She had looked up at someone and said the bairn’s name. When Caitrìona had mentioned the name from her vision, both Ailis and Niall had loved it. They hadn’t dared speak it aloud again for fear it would not come to pass. When the wee one entered the world, they’d say it again to celebrate his birth. “I’ll return as soon as I am able.”
Ailis nodded. “We’ll be waiting. Go, the wee lasses will be fine here with me and Lachlan.”
Caitrìona nodded and turned to leave. She kept her pace even as she headed out the door. Everything inside of her screamed to run as fast as possible to the blacksmith shop—to Daniel. She didn’t want to frighten the twins or Ailis though. The twins were too young to understand Caitrìona’s visions, but Ails would ken immediately something wasn’t right. So, she waited until she gained a bit of distance from the manor before she gave into the urge. Then she ran as fast as her legs would take her. She wished she had a carriage for traveling. It would help if she could get their faster, but that was impossible, as she didn’t have access to one. She would have to use what she had and pray it would be enough. The town was a couple miles from Dalais and a quick hike if she didn’t dally.
She didn’t stop once until she reached the outskirt of the village, and only then did she slow her pace. As she walked through the street, she glanced back and forth between the villagers. No one bothered to look at her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t too late. Then something caught her attention.
A group of people were milling around the entrance of the church yard. The vicar shouted at them, and they yelled back. The fear she’d felt earlier returned in full force. What was the vicar doing? Why wasn’t he at his home with his wife?
Caitrìona rushed forward and ducked inside the blacksmith shop. Whatever was happening, she wasn’t going to be able to stop it. There was nothing she could do except make sure everything was on the correct path. A stabbing pain shot through Caitrìona’s head as a flash of her sister forced itself into her mind. Blood dripped from a crack in her lip and a dark bruise formed on her left cheek in angry colors of red, blue, and green. Tears pooled in her eyes as sobs resonated around her. Her surroundings left little to be desired. The room was dark, damp, and encased in dirt. A small narrow window offered her little light. Caitrìona shook the images away and raised her hand to her chest attempting to still her rapidly beating heart. Her dear sister... Sorcha was already lost, and Caitrìona already grieved for her. Saving herself was out of the question now too. She could only save her children and her husband. She would have to be all right with that. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down. There was no time for feeling sorry for herself.
“Daniel,” she called out.
“Back here,” he replied.
She stepped through to the backroom where he was working on a small dirk. Daniel held it in place with a pair of tongs and beat it with a hammer. He dipped it into a barrel of water and then placed it on a stone surface, studying the workmanship.
“Daniel,” she stepped closer. “Can ye please look at me?”
Her husband was a braw man. She’d always thought him handsome and strong. The long hours he pounded metals into various items had shaped his muscles into works of art themselves. She appreciated his body and his gorgeous face, but that hadn’t been why she’d fallen in love with him. His giving nature and innate kindness had drawn her to his side. When he had wooed her with his charm and enticing smile, she’d been lost. There would be no other man for her. It didn’t matter that he’d been beneath her and she’d never be a grand lady. None of that had ever mattered to her. She had loved him and always would.
“What ye need, lass? He asked absentmindedly as he worked. His tone was soft though, and his love for her echoed through it. He’d never completely ignore her. They had a strong bond.
“I’ve had a vision,” she told him.
That was all he needed to set the dirk aside and come to her. “What did ye see?” Everyone in the family took her visions seriously. They had enough experience to realize that what she saw would eventually come to pass. “Ye have no color in ye lovely face. Is it so bad?”
She nodded and sucked in a breath to hold back the tears. This would be the last time she saw her beautiful husband. Caitrìona wanted to have this one moment to carry with her to remember him by. His sweetness, concern, and love... She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Their warmth seeped into her and eased some of the coldness that had settled into her stomach. “I dinna have time to explain everything,” she said as she stepped back. Ye must do as I tell ye.”
“All right,” he agreed warily.
“Go tae Dalais,” she said. “Now, while there is still time. Ye must save Ailis and the bairns.”
He crinkled his brow. “The wee lasses?”
“Aye,” she replied. “And Lachlan.”
“Where is ye brother?”
She shook her head. There was no time for this. She hadn’t asked Ailis where Niall was when she’d been at the manor. It hadn’t occurred to her. When she’d realized the connections, she’d had to act fast. In her haste, she hadn’t taken in the whole picture. She realized now she should have told Ailis about her vision too.
“Ye’ll see when ye arrive,” she said.
If she told him too much it might prevent him from doing what he must. He couldn’t know that when he arrived he’d see the mob walk off with Niall in their arms. He might try to quicken his pace and try to save him. The mob would end up with two victims for their plans. Daniel had to save Ailis and the bairns. They were far more important.
“Where ye be goin?” he asked.
“I have tae find Sorcha,” she lied. She had a feeling she’d be seeing her soon, but not in a hospitable environment. She dreaded that moment more than she could ever express. It would be filled with terror and pain beyond what she wanted to think about. Her fate had been sealed long before she had that vision. It broke her heart and shredded her to her very soul. This was her last moment with the man she loved. She’d likely never see him again or her dear girls. She had to protect him, and their daughters. She might not be able to stop what fate had in store for her, but she could do her very best to ensure their survival. “Promise me ye’ll save them.”
“Aye,” he said. Then leaned down to kiss her quickly. “They’ll be fine, my love. Don’t worry ye bonny head about it.”
“The cellar in the back of the kitchen,” she said. “Go there when it’s safe.”
With those words, he left through the back door of the shop. It clicked shut, and a few moments later, she heard the door open at the front. She turned toward the sound and met the gaze of Ellair Friseal, one of the vicar’s close friends. He was mean spirited and abused everyone and everything around him.
“Ellair,” she said, surprised. “If ye be looking for Daniel, he’s closed shop for the day. There’s been a family emergency.” It was late afternoon and her husband almost never closed this early. She hoped Ellair would leave without incident, but she doubted he’d come for the blacksmith’s services.
“I’ll speak with ye husband later,” he said. “It’s ye that I’m here for. We noticed ye heading in this direction. Saves us time in looking for ye later.”
Then he raised his fist and punched her in the face. He was the one from her vision... It didn’t surprise her, but she’d hope to avoid the pain of being hit. Sadly, she’d been right, and it did hurt more than it had in the vision. The world went black as she fell backward.
CHAPTER THREE
NIALL, BARON OF DALAIS sat on top of his horse and surveyed the land. The tenants’ farms were doing all right, and he expected the harvest to go well at the end of the month. He’d been out all day talking to the farmers and making sure they had everything they needed. He’d started to become acquainted with the tenants as a wee lad and had taken over most of the duties when he was a young man. His father had slowly lost interest in running the barony and had given him complete control well before his death
a few years ago.
Sometimes, the responsibilities of his station grated on him. There were days he wished he could take his family and head to a different place. The changes in Scotland bothered him on a visceral level. It ached deep inside as he interpreted the rot surrounding people. They took the newfound attitude toward witches as a reason to persecute innocents in the name of God. Their own evil hearts belied their true beliefs, and they didn’t realize it. He saw it in the color surrounding their souls.
In the distance, shouts echoed, catching his attention. He turned toward the sound and noticed a large group of people heading toward Dalais Manor. Their intentions screamed loudly at him, not by their voices, but the bright red hue around them. Anger and viciousness overflowed, tinting each member of the mob. Niall kicked his horse into a gallop, heading toward the manor. He had to arrive before the mob. He didn’t understand why they were on their way to his home, but he had to be there to protect Ailis and their unborn son.
He stopped at the front of the manor, hopped off the horse, and took the time to quickly tether it to a nearby hitching post. Niall rushed inside and headed to the sitting room where Ailis preferred to do her needlework. When he walked inside he stopped short when she was nowhere to be found. His heart raced hard inside his chest. He spun on his heels and exited the room, moving toward the staircase.
“Ailis,” he shouted.
“In the nursery,” she yelled back.
He took the stairs two at a time as he ran up to the nursery. She must be preparing something for the bairn when it arrived. Why else would she be in that particular room? When he went inside, he was surprised to find his twin nieces and Lachlan with her. His wife was in the middle of telling them a tale of adventure and bravery.
“Ailis,” he said urgently. “I must speak with ye now.”
“Can it wait?”
“Nay,” he said. “Bring the wee ones and follow me”
