Chapter 33
The blinding mist clouded her vision. She was back – in the realm of possibilities with destiny.
Step careful, lest it be the final step.
Wait, what was that? A distant wail reached her ears.
Infernal fog! All she saw was the gray tickling her nose.
This way? There it was again; no, venture left.
Her heart surged blood toward her head. It…
it was a wee bairn crying. Who was the other?
Her hands frantically pressed into the unseeable cloud trying to create a path to see. Ugh, clear away, mist!
Sounds of steel meeting steel. Her feet began running toward the chaos unfolding, shrouded in grayness with rain soaking her skin. Her shoulders tensed.
A sound, half frightened scream and all rage, met her ears. A lass.
Her naked soles, matching the rest of her, crunched the twigs as she raced blindly toward the unseen owner. Ouch – the pain rasped her toes the same as needles. She froze when the fog cleared as if a painter brushed it away with a lone violent stroke.
“Nae!” Her mouth voiced the word, but no sound emitted, just as always.
It was hell on earth. Fire spired up into the clouds from a castle.
In the distance, a bailey and keep stood engulfed with flames on the shores of a loch, the blaze sizzling as the rain landed.
Night’s darkness cloaked about her; the only light was from the raging inferno eating the castle like a dragon taking savage fiery bites.
Whose ships were those in the placid waters behind the curtain walls? Her eyes squinted, then popped wide.
Northmen!
The waters may be placid, but it was a striking contrast to the warriors’ fighting, accompanied by the screams from women and children running for their lives as if golden-haired demons chased them into hell.
Another cry tore the air, the same as the first – there, there was the Scotswoman she had initially heard.
The lass had a regal air about her even in the hellish circumstance.
She was giving orders to those surrounding outside the portcullis while trying to calm the wee swaddled bairn to her breast.
“My wee Douglin,” she vowed at the bairn, whose face was as red as the flames from crying frantically, “you will not perish.”
Keirah spotted a Northman approaching from the shadowy forest’s edge. Ivar. He raced toward the pair from behind; Keirah’s feet ran straight for them. At that angle the mother would never see them! It was no good, she couldn’t touch or save or yell at them! She raced faster…
“Behind you!” She mouthed the words frantically even if no sound emerged. “Lass! Look behind you…”
A scream she did hear tore her throat when she crashed back into her current time. Her wide gaze looked into Aonghus’s fearful expression while his one arm gripped her waist, with the other cradling her shoulders and scalp in the bed after their declarations earlier.
His tone was terrified as his look. “Cluaran, what took you?! Who must look behind?”
“A Scotswoman clutching a wee bairn.” Her words were layered with hysterical sobs. “The Northmen, they were laying siege to a castle upon a loch.”
Aonghus pulled her closer. Nae; her blood, along with raw nerves, coursed her veins. She must move! With a brush from her lips onto his, she spun from his embrace; her bare soles hit the icy floor with a sound splash.
What the hell was this?! Her eyes snapped toward the floor.
Remnants. Remnants from the night-glance.
A massive puddle reflected her silhouette back up at her in the firelight.
The storm in the night-glance had unleashed the phenomenon.
Ugh! She kicked the water furiously as a defiant cry echoed the chamber while she began to pace, as naked as she was in the glance.
Trembling fingers brushed away her tears – the mother didn’t need hysterics, she needed help!
Her knight was of the same mind. “Cluaran, where was the terrain of this castle or the lass you beheld?”
“I do not know the terrain! Dammit! The Northmen’s ships were upon a shoreline, the same ships I saw in the night-glance sailing over land; but the lass…
” She worried her lower lip, concentrating.
“She was tall, very tall, hair same as a sunrise, and the bairn she clutched ’twas a wee fresh-born lad she called Douglin. ”
“By all above,” Aonghus bellowed. He flew off the bed as if it were in flames and splashed through the water, not stopping as he grabbed his tunic, braies, and chausse while bolting for the door. “Keirah, dress with haste!” he called over his shoulder.
“Who are you seeking?!” she asked fervently. “Who was the lass?”
Crash! He threw the board to the ground, yelling over the sound: “To summon Callum and Alec, and to wake the king!” Throwing the timber bar aside, his tunic over his skull, he bolted out the door. He popped his head back in a split second to finish, “The lass, ’tis Deidre, Alec’s wife!”
Oh! Raging hell!
***
Dawn… – had to be almost upon them.
Aonghus held the solar’s door open for the one who claimed his heart and soul and future, Keirah.
And who do we have for the guards as the first line in defense outside here in the passageway? Sir Sean and…wait just a damn moment, is Sir James shooting a dark glare at Keirah? Here – glare at this, arsehole. Click. Door closed!
Keirah squeezed Aonghus’s hand before he turned toward the chamber. All present? Aye. The king looked exhausted, straight from the chapel praying – this news would only make it worse. His eyes darted between the three advisors, alongside Callum and Alec.
Alec. Deidre and the bairn, Douglin. How was he going to tell his wee brother both innocents were facing the enemy head on?
The Lord Chamberlain rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Why have you called an assembly?” he questioned, fatigue giving his voice an edge.
Aonghus replied briskly, “My lady has held a night-glance.”
Callum leapt in first. “A night-glance? How? She lost her talent when you took her as your…”
“’Twas a ruse for the Northmen,” the Lord Chamberlain groused.
Look at that pent-up anger sparking in my elder brother’s gaze. He had deceived Callum; there would come a time the anger would flash the same as lightning.
“You lied to me,” Callum accused him. “Your own kin!” And there was the first bolt.
“You may settle clan or kin matters in another moment,” the Lord Constable cut in, his voice sharp as a sword.
The king asked, directly, “What have you beheld, Lady Keirah?”
Aonghus saw all eyes turn toward her; she literally took a step back before speaking. So much weighed on her from the morbid glances to their fated path about to be walked. Dammit! If only he could help shoulder the burden more for her.
“An attack, my lord king,” she began, and a few murmurs blanketed the chamber. “When I first settled here in Stirling, I beheld a night-glance of ships sailing over land.”
“Ships sailing land?” the Lord Chamberlain huffed. “Was it a night-glance or had you tasted a variety of mushrooms the Berserkers partook of before Viking battles?”
“Silence,” the king and Lord Constable both ordered in unison to the keeper of coin. King Alexander faced her again, imploring, “Proceed, Lady Keirah.”
“The night-glance this eve was of a Scotswoman, very tall, wearing a surcoat embroidered with roses, and clutching a wee bairn she called Douglin.” The words no sooner left Keirah’s lips before Alec stepped forward.
“Deidre, my…my wife,” he said in awe, and a grin beamed his lips at Aonghus and Callum. “She bestowed the name we spoke of after our late sire. I am now a sire of my own to a strapping lad!”
Callum slapped him on the back in congratulations but stilled when he noticed the somber expression by the one giving the news.
“What troubles you, my lady?” The King of Scots stood, flanked by his advisors, all wearing grim looks.
“The Lord Chamberlain is not mistaken on the oddity regarding ships over land.” She nodded at him.
“Within that moment, even I did not understand how such a feat was even possible. The element which binds the two night-glances are the ships. The very same ships on land are the ones sailing across a loch, besieging and burning a castle unto the ground.” Her gaze broke to Alec, finishing, tormented: “A castle your Deidre stood in the foreground of, giving orders amid the chaos.”
Alec blanched, appearing more ghost than Scotsman. “My lady,” he asked, his words slow from fearing the answer, “were….were they hurt when you saw my wife and bairn in the night-glance?”
“Nae, she was well; however, a Northman was approaching from the woods. One I know of from my travels with King H?konsson; he is called Ivar Holm,” she replied. “I awoke before the result bore clear…I do not know what occurred.” Her voice was tortured. “Please forgive me, Alec.”
His wee brother stepped up, kissed Keirah on the brow, and murmured, “You have warned me; there is nothin’ to forgive.
” He turned toward the king. “With your permission I will take my leave to defend my kin and clan.” Aonghus read the look on his younger brother’s face.
Had he ever seen his brother more iron-willed?
No. Whether the king granted the request or not, Alec would be heading for the passageway.
“Aye,” the king nodded.
“Alec,” Callum ordered quickly, “place Legan with his brothers at your side and any others who seek to return swiftly.” Legan was a solid choice: big, muscled, and slayer to his core.
“Aye,” Alec called over his shoulder; the wood door slammed behind him hastily.
A rustling echoed the chamber with the Lord Constable unfolding a parchment revealing a map wide upon the table. “You speak of ships sailin’ over land,” he said, and all surrounded the drawing showing the Highlands. “Clan MacCade borders an isle upon the southern edges of Loch Lomond, aye?”
“Aye,” Aonghus and Callum confirmed together.