Chapter Twenty-Four #2
But the Wilkies came by to sit beside them, as did Finlay and the Murray sisters. Kenneth Grant approached too, a silver flask in his hand. He held it out to one and another, then offered it to Catriona. She refused with a shake of her head.
“It’s more invigorating than lemonade,” Grant said. “We could use a little of this. The wind cuts like a knife up here.”
An edge in his tone told her Grant had been drinking a little already. “We don’t need spirits when we’re walking along a narrow ridge.”
“Of course not,” Grant agreed. “But it’s customary among mountaineers to sip a fortifying liquid when one reaches the peak. Usually brandy, but this is Scotland and whisky suits all occasions.” He sipped again.
“We haven’t reached the peak, so you may as well put it away,” Evan said.
“We’re nearly at the top,” Grant replied, raising the flask to salute the peak above them.
“We’ll scramble over those pinnacles to reach the Black Notch, the fairy’s own hollow.
A sip should definitely mark that occasion.
” He swept a hand to indicate the conglomeration of black ledges and steps that formed the rough pinnacles they would soon scramble over somehow.
“Up there,” Grant went on, “is Eag Dubh, the Black Notch. We can take the higher ridge and keep going. But to really climb Ben Shee, one must scale the Black Notch directly and not go around it. No one has ever done that. Not you, Lord Kildonan, nor Finlay, nor Erik MacConn, brother to these two. Lady Kildonan,” he said then.
“Tell us the story of the Eag Dubh, will you?”
She gaped at him, and saw Finlay’s face redden in anger. Surely Grant did not mean for her to tell the story of her brother’s tragic fall or her father’s injury. But there was another story, she recalled then.
“Very well,” she said. “Eag Dhubh na h-Eigheachd means more than Black Notch. The old name means the ‘Gash of the Wailing.’ For generations, this part of the mountain has been avoided by shepherds and anyone who might need to come up here. Legend says that crying or wailing is sometimes heard from the great split in the mountain. They say that fairies who are caught inside the rock are calling out.”
“Fairies?” Anna Wilkie looked fascinated. “Wailing so loudly?”
“Not the smaller fairies who cause mischief and sometimes help humans,” she answered.
“These are darker fairies, the most ancient kind. They might be trapped, or perhaps they lie in wait to harm others. Evil creatures, you see. But some say the wailing sound is the voice of the mountain itself, crying for a sacrifice. When the voice is heard, it continues until…until someone dies up there.”
She thought of Erik, and avoided Finlay’s solemn gaze. Reverend Wilkie scribbled in his notebook, and his wife turned pale.
“If we had heard that story earlier, I might not have come up here,” Jemima said.
“Nonsense,” Evan said. “It’s just the wind whining through the rocks.”
Arthur nodded. “Silly to think it anything ominous. Good story, though. Lady Kildonan, look at this.” He reached into a pocket. “You asked about crystals on the mountain.” He extended his open hand. “I found these as we came up.”
In his hand was a cluster of clear and white crystals, faceted and glittering.
“Oh! How lovely!” She took them from him to look closer. “Where did you find them?”
“Here and there, but I just noticed a deposit over this way.” He beckoned, and she stood to follow.
A few of the others came along as Arthur led them to a high rise in the rock that jutted out like a parapet.
At its base, near their feet, Arthur pointed to a bed of small pointed crystals that spilled, sparkling and glassy, from a crevice in the black rock.
With a delighted gasp, Catriona sank to her knees to trace her fingers over them. The women exclaimed too and joined her for a better look. As she scanned the crevice, Catriona sought the sort of fairy wand that Flora had mentioned.
But she saw nothing that glowed in the shadow of the rock with its own inner light. That sort was very rare, she knew, and would not be easy to find. She glanced up as Evan knelt beside her.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Very nice. But not what I was hoping to find.”
“But quite lovely.” He snapped off a jewel-like cluster and handed it to her.
She snapped off another cluster, which easily broke away.
The crystals were perfectly shaped, with the cloudy gloss of thick glass.
Though she was thrilled to find them, she knew they were not what Flora had sent her to find.
Still, as the group harvested some of the crystals, which sprouted from the great black rock like flowers and mosses, she did the same.
Anna Wilkie filled her hands and then stood to take the crystals she had found over to her husband.
But she suddenly tripped and fell awkwardly on an incline coated with scree, an unstable crop of broken stones.
She began to slide downward, her feet and skirts dangling in midair as she screamed and tried to hold on to a jutting rock.
Evan ran past in a blur, dropping to his knees as he reached for Anna. Catriona leaped to her feet and ran too, just as Finlay and Wilkie arrived and knelt to help. Grabbing Anna’s arms, Evan pulled her back while Finlay took hold of his waist to anchor him.
Dragged back to the plateau, Anna cried out and wrapped her arms around Evan as he lifted her. Wilkie was there a moment later to take his wife in his arms, setting her on her feet as Evan stepped back.
Heart thumping, Catriona hurried to Evan’s side, following as Wilkie led Anna to the protected area under the natural parapet. Weeping and shaky, Anna was limping as she found a seat on a rock ledge.
“My ankle,” she said.
“Let me look.” Grant knelt beside her to take her booted foot in his hand, probing and testing as she winced. He sat back. “I doubt it’s broken, but it is badly wrenched. We can wrap it tightly for support, but you will have to make your way back down the mountain. Can you do that, madam?”
“I can.” She nodded, her face pale.
“I will take her back safely,” Wilkie said.
Catriona knelt beside Anna, and bent to unfasten the woman’s boot. Through the woolen stocking, she could see that the ankle was swelling.
Grant stepped away and returned with a rolled length of cloth from his knapsack. “I brought some supplies in case anyone was injured,” he explained. He wrapped the cloth around Anna’s stockinged foot and ankle to make a snug, supportive bandage. Anna barely winced, yet clearly was in pain.
“You’ll need some of this.” Grant handed her his flask. “Drink, and no protest.”
Anna swallowed, grimacing, then swallowed again and returned the flask.
“You’ll need help taking her down. She may not be able to walk all the way,” Grant said. “I’ll go with you.”
“The descent follows a different route than the ascent,” Finlay said. “I’ll show you the way, and come back for any who stay.”
“Anna should have another woman with her,” Jemima said. “I can go. I have seen enough of this mountain. I have no desire to climb the Black Notch after those stories.”
“If you go, Jemima, I will too,” Emily said.
Evan looked at Catriona. “Shall we all deem it enough today? It does look like rain.”
Catriona sighed, looking again at the sparkling divided summit overhead. She had come so far in search of the crystal Flora told her to find. She did not want to leave, yet could hardly stay on her own.
“We can go if you want.” She fingered the crystals in her pocket and hoped they would be enough to please Flora MacLeod.
Evan took her arm. “My wife and I will linger here for a bit and come down shortly. I want to explore these slopes a little more. They are part of my glen, after all. We will join you directly. I know the way down.”
“Do not fall! That is how you found your way down before,” Arthur said.
“We will be fine.” Evan held Catriona’s elbow and stood beside her, waiting while his friends began to make their way down carefully, following the path that Finlay showed them. Grant and Wilkie helped Anna, one at each side, as she limped without complaint.
Catriona smiled at Evan. “Thank you. I hope we can be quick.”
He nodded. “We are in the vicinity of your fairy crystals, I think.” He looked around. “Where do you suppose they could be hiding? And what do the wee rascals look like?”
She laughed. “You are trained in geology, not I. They glow in the dark, Flora says.”
“Ah. Then we shall look in the shadows, and hope the mountain is in a good mood.”