CHAPTER 19 #2
The vision started the moment she touched the keystone.
It was as if the world fell away and she was there, standing at the base of the craggy hill with the icy wind ripping through her hair.
The scene was familiar to her—she’d seen it in the enchanted tapestry.
But this one was different. There was no lightning flashing, no battle raging, no Triple Goddess or keystone in the center of it all.
Chloe was seeing the events through someone else’s eyes—not her own.
Alexander MacLeod assembled all his men on the field at the base of the crag.
He sat atop his destrier and peered across the vast field at the man who had betrayed him.
He should have known forging a truce—fragile that it was—with Brodie MacDonald was a mistake.
But Alexander felt as though he had no choice.
It was the only way to protect their lands from the northern invaders.
When he discovered—by way of Padrig Sinclair—the man secretly plotted against him, he had to act. MacDonald was driven by greed and great ambition and intended to destroy all the northern clan leaders to take control of their lands.
His land. His and Padrig’s land.
He would never stand for this. Nor would Padrig.
Across the field, their enemy outnumbered the Sinclairs and the MacLeods three to one. He and Padrig did not expect to win this battle, but they had to try. Each refused to allow their enemy to take what was theirs by birthright.
Behind them, their army was at the ready.
Despite the insurmountable odds, they stood their ground with their round shields and their spears or swords in hand.
Pride spread through Alexander’s chest, knowing his men had come to fight, determined to keep their own lands out of the hands of the MacDonalds.
At the head of the opposing army, Brodie held aloft his great axe at the ready, and he nudged his destrier into a trot toward the middle of the field.
The blade appeared to be glowing, which did nothing to temper the fear skipping through Alexander.
He had to set aside that fear. Alexander and Padrig exchanged a glance.
“Mayhap he wishes to negotiate,” Padrig said.
“I dinnae believe he came all this way with his army to negotiate, my friend. However, there is only one way to find out.”
The two of them rode to the middle of the field to meet him and halted there. Alexander stared at the square face of Brodie MacDonald. His dark, beady eyes stared back. He continued to hold aloft that glowing great axe with a look of smug defiance.
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy in the air.
“There’s no need for a battle,” Brodie said. “I am a man of mercy. Get off yer horses and surrender and we can avoid the bloodshed.”
“Ye wish us to surrender to ye?” Alexander shook his head. “Ye want it to be that easy, aye? Ye want us to hand over our lands as if we were handing over nothing more than a piece of bread. I willna submit to ye.”
“Nor I,” Padrig agreed.
Brodie’s eyes flickered between the two men, then paused on Padrig. “So, ye’ve thrown in with the likes of this one, aye? Ye disappoint me, Padrig.”
“After ye betrayed me and my clan, after framing me for deaths that werena my fault, after terrorizing my people…aye. I’ve thrown in with the likes of Alexander MacLeod. A good, decent, honorable man unlike ye. I cannae trust ye, nor will I ever trust ye again.”
“Very well, Padrig, if that’s yer decision, so be it.
Ye are outmarched. Ye have no heavy calvary.
How do ye think to defeat me?” He shook his head.
“I will destroy ye both. Ye have no chance of beating me or my men.” He clutched his great axe tighter, his knuckles leeching of color.
“As I said, I am man of mercy. I will give ye both one last chance to leave the field. And if ye dinnae leave, then ye give me no choice.”
“Ye are no more a man of mercy than I am a man of the cloth.” Alexander drew his claymore. The blade sang with a shing as he unsheathed it. “I willna surrender.”
“Nor will I.” Padrig also drew his sword.
A glower crossed MacDonald’s face as his gaze flickered from one to the other. He turned his destrier and trotted back to his line of men. Alexander cut a glance to Padrig.
“I dinnae think he’d back down,” Alexander said.
“Nor I,” he agreed. “If he wins, then he controls all the lands on the northern part of the isle. Including yer own keep.”
Alexander’s jaw tightened as he stared down at the man on the other end of the field with the great axe. He still held it aloft as it continued to glow.
“He willna win,” Alexander said, sounding sure of himself. “We cannae allow him to win.”
There was a spark of determination in his wild, blue eyes.
As swiftly as the vision began, it ended.
It faded from her mind. When she came back to herself, she felt the keystone biting into her palm, her fingers clutched tight around it.
Malcolm cradled her against his chest, holding her tightly.
Dimly, she realized she was in his lap as he sat on the floor holding her.
“Lass?”
She blinked up at him, her head pounding with a raging headache. “What happened?”
“I dinnae ken. Yer legs gave out.”
“And you caught me again.” The words came out on a breath. She seemed to end up in his arms a lot. Not that she minded.
“I’ll always catch ye when ye fall. What happened?”
Her limbs ached. She had no energy to push out of his arms, nor did she want to. She remained where she was, gazing up at him. His face had a worried expression, his eyes glinting with a bit of anxiety.
“When I picked up the keystone, I had a…a vision.”
“Like before?”
“Yes. But different. This time, I was looking through someone else’s eyes. Someone named Alexander.”
His eyes widened a bit. “MacLeod?”
“Yes.”
“My ancestor.” He said with a sort of reverence she had never heard before. “What was this vision?”
“There were two other men. One named Padrig. One named Brodie. The man named Brodie had a great axe. It was—” She halted, unsure of her next words because it sounded crazy to her own ears. “The great axe was glowing.”
“Is this the same great axe in the tapestry?”
“I think so.”
He made a low noise deep in his throat. “That is Brodie MacDonald. Our clans have been sworn enemies for hundreds of years.”
“Alexander said something about being betrayed. I didn’t understand, but I had the sense the feeling of betrayal was strong.”
It was more than that, though. Chloe downplayed it because she didn’t want to alarm him to how much she felt while being in that vision.
She sensed the sting of perfidy running deep within Alexandar when Brodie broke their truce—a truce to keep their lands safe from the northern invaders.
She assumed he referred to the Vikings who had raided the shores of England and Scotland for hundreds of years.
“Aye, there was that. The MacDonald turned the Sinclairs against us. Padrig was the clan leader of the Sinclairs, as Alexander was the clan leader of the MacLeods. That was over five hundred years ago, though.”
Confusion skipped through her. How could she have seen something from so long ago? Why? What did it mean?
“Was there a battle?” she asked.
“Och, aye. A bloody one at that. And if what yer telling me is true, then this battle is the one that happened around the same time as the Shattering.”
That got her attention. She managed to sit up, pushing out of his arms and blinking owlish eyes at him.
“The same Shattering that’s depicted in the tapestries?”
“Aye, the verra one.”
She pressed cold, shaking fingertips to her lips. She was convinced the vision meant something. She had to find Evie and tell her everything. Maybe she would have answers as to why she had had the vision. Unlikely, but she needed her sister.
Flushing hot, she realized she was still naked. And so was he.
Quickly, she gathered up her clothes and started to dress. She placed the keystone on the edge of the bed to pull her shift on over her head, keeping an eye on the offending stone the entire time.
“I’ve kept you long enough from your duties. I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not.”
She glanced at him to see a smirk on his face. He had already donned his tunic. He tugged on his plaid, securing it around his waist, and then pulled the remaining material up and over his shoulder.
“If yer hungry, see Roslyn in the kitchen.” He kissed her cheek. “I hope yer here when I return.”
“I’d like to be.”
With one last longing look, he left her alone in the chamber. She glanced down at her hand with the bandage. It no longer tingled or seemed to bother her. She unwound the gauzy material to check the wound.
There was nothing left of the cut except a pink silvery line where it had healed.