Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alasdair
Alasdair moved toward the door the moment it slammed shut in his face, a wee lass pressed against it, staring up at him with a scowl older than her face.
“They’re my bairns, Lia.” He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, wondering how to make someone who seemed both ancient and a child understand what it meant to lose both parents within a year. Losing either child would kill him.
Losing both? Incomprehensible.
“Alasdair, I know you’re worried, but they can handle themselves,” Lia said in her best calming voice.
Dyna took his hand and tugged him back. “You have to leave them be. They have important work to do.”
Alasdair lost control. “Don’t tell me what to do. And don’t play the same game you did with me years ago, Dyna. You don’t know how I feel. You can’t know how I feel.”
Dyna pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I can’t know, is that what you think?”
“Not your bairns down there in an unknown world, are they?” His hands landed on his hips, and he leaned toward her, then spun away and paced a circle, the standing door to the underworld behind him.
“Oh, and I suppose I don’t understand that either. Where the hell were Tora and Sandor when Maeve had them? Some known world, ’Dair?”
Alasdair stopped pacing and stared at the sky because she was right. Blast it all to hell, but she was right. Dyna had been shattered into pieces when her bairns were stolen by monsters, yet she had survived, standing here whole. “This is different, Dyna, and you know it.”
“It is. John has a sapphire sword that can take anyone down inside that door,” Lia declared.
“But can it take ten down? And what creatures are in there? And while he’s fighting, where is Ailith? Attacked by some cruel Unseelie like Gruin?” He pressed his fist against his chest. “I’m sick with the thought of it.”
Emmalin took two steps forward and whispered, “But I can know exactly how you feel, Alasdair.”
He nearly ran to his wife and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing her forehead, then her lips, pressing his face against her hair for a moment that was too short. “I know you can. What do we do?”
Dyna said, “You wait.”
Alasdair nodded, going within to come up with something, some memory, to help him get through this. He whispered, “She’s an innocent, Em.”
“I don’t think so. Alasdair, when was your first battle?”
He thought back, grateful for the challenge.
When had he first used his sword in battle?
The time on the hill with the sheep? When he had to fight for John when the English captured him.
How old had he been then? Thoughts battled in his mind to grab his attention.
A quick image of Ailith being held by a warrior or John with a sword at his throat fought for his focus.
He tugged at the collar of his tunic because it was too tight, making him too tight.
“Never mind. It’s not important.” Emmalin kissed his cheek and leaned her head on his shoulder, but still the thoughts persisted.
Dyna came up on his opposite side, taking his hand and squeezing it. He’d been wrong. Dyna knew exactly what it was like. And Edan? He paced faster than his father ever did when he’d been arguing over the English.
Magni broke into his thoughts. “You should listen to your grandfather.”
Alasdair let go of Emmalin enough to turn toward him. “I would if I could, but he’s not here. And neither is my sire.”
Sandor came forward and said, “You’re right. They’re not here because they’re both busy. But Grandmama Maddie and Aunt Aline are.”
Alasdair went still.
He had known Sandor had the gift. He had watched him as a child, seen the lad turn toward empty corners and murmur to people no one else could see.
He had seen Jake Grant chase him around the great hall at Duart to tickle him, Sandor squealing “Unca Shakie chaseen me” at the top of his lungs.
He had smiled at it then. He had never needed it for himself until now.
“Sandor.” His voice came out rough. “Is Grandmama here? And my Mother?”
Sandor turned his head slowly toward the tree line, the way he always did when he was listening to something no one else could hear. “Right over there. Grandmama is crying, but Aunt Aline is cursing.”
Alasdair’s throat closed. “Why is Grandmama crying?”
“Because you and Dyna are yelling at each other and you should support each other, she says.”
“Sorry, Grandmama. I love Dyna. You know it. Where are Grandda and Da?”
“They were here but they went with John and Ailith, and they brought one other person.”
“Who?” Alasdair asked, the tears already covering his cheeks
Sandor’s mouth curved. “Aunt Gwyneth. I saw her shove Uncle Jake out of the way and then she said, ‘Let me at the bastards.’”
Dyna clapped and jumped in the air. “Go, Aunt Gwyneth.”
Sandor turned his head again, listening, his expression going soft in the way it only did when the voices were speaking clearly. “What, Grandmama?”
Alasdair looked toward the tree line and saw nothing, only shadows and shifting leaves, and it cost him something to stand still instead of crossing to her. His mother too, if she stood in that same unseen space. But it wasn’t the time. He could feel that much.
“Grandmama said not to worry. She said Ailith and John were chosen carefully.” Sandor paused, still listening. “You have to trust them to fulfill their destiny.”
“Many thanks to you, Grandmama Maddie,” Emmalin said softly, leaning her head against Alasdair’s shoulder. “I worry so for Ailith after what happened to her.”
“Aunt Aline says she won’t be given anything she can’t handle.” Sandor waved once toward the trees in a small, easy gesture, the way you wave to someone you see every day. “And Grandmama says the bairns need her. They’re leaving now.”
Alasdair watched the tree line for another moment after Sandor’s arm dropped, just in case. Then he exhaled and pulled Dyna into his side, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Forgive me for my foolishness. You’ve always been the best for me, cousin.”
Dyna turned to stare at the door. “I’m hurting too. Ailith is family too, and I love them both.”
Sandor bellowed, “Oh!”
“What?” Dyna and Alasdair barked together.
“Grandda just yelled at Gruin. And Aunt Gwyneth has her bow pointed at his neck. He doesn’t realize they’re ghosts.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Nay. They’re keeping him back. Even though they can’t really hurt him.”
“Why?” Emmalin asked. “What happened?”
“He tried to touch Ailith.”
No one spoke for a moment.
“What’s he doing now?” Alasdair managed.
“Grandda is staying there. He said he’s not leaving until John and Ailith take their leave so they better not hurt his grandbairns.”
Edan stepped forward, his voice tight. “Can you see any bairns near them?”
Sandor shook his head. “Not near them. The bairns are still in cages.”
Alasdair looked at the door that had swallowed his children and said nothing more. There was nothing left to say. He stood beside his wife with his arm around her and watched and waited, because that was all that was left to him now.