Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends, Book 1) (30 page)

A group of primitive people built a step pyramid along the shore of the southernmost island. I watched, amazed. An ancient Japanese tribe worked on a structure similar to the Egyptian pyramids. The scene played out, the box gifted again by Sunshine to an apparent tribe chieftain.

Iain’s castle shimmered again under the disappearing mist like a mirage. My mind reeled, digesting all the new information. Otherworldly beings had gifted the box, and its power, to master races throughout time.

Had those been actual events or mere symbolic representations? Modern-day scientists and historians had long grappled with many unsolvable mysteries because prior races had possessed superior, inexplicable knowledge. Thoughts of Atlantis teased through my mind despite the legend’s lack of representation in this history lesson.

“Have you seen enough, Ms. MacInnes?” Orion’s gentle, low-timbered voice asked.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Ms. MacInnes’? I’m married. It’s
Brodie
.”

Orion smiled as Sunshine twitched. I imagined he bit his tongue about a colorful nickname for me, or likely restrained all-out laughter at my irritation of the formal, incorrect moniker.

“We’ve watched you pre-time jump and post-time jump. We’ve known you unbound by definition. ‘Ms.’ is unidentified—without specific label.”

“An anomaly. How delightful. I’m trying to find myself and you peg hole me into belonging nowhere. Perfect.
And
. . . you’ve been stalking me,” I grumbled. “Peachy.”

“I’m a watcher, not unlike you,” Orion replied.

Sunshine quipped, “And we’ll call you
anything
that amuses us.”

I tilted my head to him at the remark. “Touché. Back at ya, Cupcake.”

Their faces remained emotionless.

The watcher remark sank in. “We’re the same. Great. I
have
died, haven’t I? It’s
Lost
all over again. I’m in a crashed plane on the bottom of the ocean somewhere. So if we’re both ‘watchers’ over—” I coughed “—time, why don’t I have wings?” I stepped closer, reaching a hand out to brush my fingers over Orion’s bright iridescent feathers. They bristled in warning. He growled for the first time, and I jerked my hand back, eyeing him as he settled down.

Orion spoke in his low cadence. “We, Ms. MacInnes, are not of the same species. Do follow along. Time
is
of the essence.”

I sighed.
No shit.
“Fine. So what the hell am I watching? I don’t think you’ve been paying close enough attention. There’s been a whole lot of
participating
going on. Two soul mates? Really? And my very existence had to have disrupted time itself.”

“Bingo, Einstein.” Sunshine grinned smugly.

I glared at him. “You
wanted
me to mess up time? You boys play a very stupid game.”

Orion gave me a small smile, ever the patient one. “The time adjustments are necessary and mandated by our Authority. I suppose it’s a sort of game. Only this game has no good and bad. No win. No loss. None involved know the rules. In a way, you are the referee.”

“An observer,” I replied, irritated.

“A game changer,” Orion corrected.

I scowled, confused anew.

Even Orion sighed at my apparent slowness on the uptake. “Tiny snags have happened in time. You’ve been gifted the ability to pull them back smoothly without damaging the fabric.”

“Why me?”

Orion shrugged, examining a nonexistent speck on his pristine right pectoral before brushing it away. “Why not? Desire. Motive. Birthright. Complete boredom from the Authority. Who knows.”

Sunshine piped up. “Ours is not to question why . . .”

My mind finished his sentence without control. I ignored Smartass’s bait, focusing on Orion. “And the soul mates bit? Is that real, or was that devised for entertainment?”

Orion arched a regal brow. “Is there any doubt they were meant for you?”

“Well, no .
 . . but—” My mouth dropped open as frustration fuzzed my thoughts.

Sunshine grinned, taking the reins from Orion. “Stupid questions are wasted breath, Hotshot. I suggest you keep your focus. You do have to save time, after all.”

Both of their corporeal forms began to fade into the sparkling mist.

Sudden urgency spiked my pulse as my informants disappeared. Literally. “Wait! What if I have questions? Or need help?” Realization hit me. “How do
I
control my time travel?”

“Tick. Tock.” Sunshine’s disembodied voice faded into a swirl of white fog.

“Fine. Abandon me.” I grumbled an incoherent string of curses, wondering if they’d ever really been there in the first place. Dreams messing with my head? Not a new thing.

Still suspended high above the Earth in frothy fairy dust, I searched in vain for a way down. Irritated, I charged through the glittering fog in a direction only identifiable as forward until a clear path presented itself, the mist falling away. A dark area opened ahead, and I rushed toward the only discernible gateway out of the total whiteout.

No light entered the black hole of a passage. The void completely shrouded whatever existed beyond, yet something drew me forward, and I held no fear of its unknown.

I stepped through the threshold, unsure of what awaited me on the other side. A low pop sounded as a membrane gave way, catapulting me through. I stumbled forward from the sudden release, landing with my hands sprawled across .
 . .

Iain’s map desk.

In his study.

My fingertips rustled through vellum maps lying under those obsidian, faceted paperweights. I drank in the richness of carved woods and neatly rolled parchments. The wall’s brilliant spotlights illuminated the room. Cold stones beneath my feet radiated a chill into my skin, while the familiar scent of dusty surfaces and leather tomes filtered deep into my lungs, sealing the deal for my rapidly processing mind.

Very real.

I whirled around. Iain’s wall had spit me out from the other side, the molten stone surface and laser-point light show still vibrating in full force and effect.

In panic, I panted, quick bursts forcing air out through puffed cheeks. Information overload threatened my sanity once again. With forced concentration, I slowed my spinning thoughts enough to focus on comprehension rather than apprehension.

I peeked down. I remained very naked. Unwilling to make unconfirmed assumptions, I marched right back through the wall. Glittering mist enveloped me immediately. I spun around, seeing the darkness of the wall from the other side, apparently.

Memories of the places I’d visited on my otherworldly tour increased the density of the vapor, concealing the doorway. I concentrated on the castle, and the dark gateway reappeared, the haze dissipating.

Orion.

Skorpius.

As if the power of my mind conjured them, I saw their distant black-and-white winged forms through the mist as they walked away, their faint conversation drifting into my ears.

“. . . she bought it?” Orion asked.

“I’m betting all-in she didn’t,” Sunshine replied, sounding less gruff and more astute.

“Good. We wouldn’t want her to back down now.” Orion stopped, turning slightly.

Sunshine also stopped, cocking his head. “Funny, I’d thought for millennia The Traveler would’ve been bigger and .
 . . male.”

The midnight wings spread their full span in an instant. Black velvet brushed onto a shimmering canvas of white became the only thing visible.

I blinked, and they vanished. Undisturbed mist remained in their place. Orion’s fading voice whispered into my ears. “Have faith, Ms. MacInnes. All is
exactly
as it seems.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but not one thought filled my head to form any kind of response. My time on the not-a-dream-after-all plane had apparently concluded.

With nowhere else to go but back, I turned, bracing myself to avoid a collision with furniture, and stepped through the gateway. Both feet landed squarely on solid stone.

My gaze traveled slowly up from the floor as the sum total of revelations filled me with awe. Everything came to vibrant life around me—from the wall’s sparking energy to the silent maps hiding a fortune of information—as a clear epiphany broke my calm surface.

The box had been the first bread crumb, the wall another. Both led to a riled discussion with the yin–yang angel brothers who’d stacked my deck with more questions than answers.

Markers in my journey, every guidepost had simply showed me the way. I went down the path, choosing right or left at forks in the road, but the doorways did not define me. My actions every step of the way determined my course, revealing the person that existed inside.

Before I fully embraced who I’d become, the one I continued to discover daily within myself, I needed answers about the factors that had influenced my journey.

I needed the information Iain still withheld from me. I needed to know everything.

CHAPTER
Twenty-nine

The wall hummed behind me with residual energy, powering down while my mind charged up. Sometime after my exhaustion-induced, post-reunion nap with Iain, I’d somehow made it down to Iain’s map room and entered into another plane .
 . . by pure intention.
Or had I?

Although I couldn’t remember opening the wall for my angel meet-and-greet, the moment I wanted to return from the other side, mere thought had manifested a dark gateway inside the sparkling wonderland. Orion had said I’d left the portal wide open—he’d meant the wall.

I stood in the empty study, considering my stark nakedness, wondering how I’d arrived there in the middle of the day without attracting attention. Hell, maybe I hadn’t. Midday in the castle tended to be like Grand Central Station.

In spite of any potential scandal I might have already unknowingly caused, I closed my eyes,
wishing
my body back to the warmth of our bed with every ounce of mental intention my mind could muster. I cracked an eyelid open. Yeah. Nothing.

Streaking had to be the farthest thing from ladylike behavior, but since I couldn’t conjure up clothing, or a study-to-bedroom gateway, I had no viable alternative. I took a deep breath, preparing for round two of “Castle: Wild and Scandalous.”

With my peripheral vision blocked into an ignorance-is-bliss mode, I burst through the door, strode down the dark hall, and raced up the great hall steps two at a time. If anyone happened to notice what I’m sure would pop open even the sleepiest eye, not peep had been wisely made.

Our bedchamber door, the second one on the right, stood open a few inches. Iain would never have done such a thing, lending weight to the whole you-bared-while-unaware theory. I pushed the heavy door open far enough for me to squeeze through the space, a loud creak alarming out from the dry hinge. How I’d not tripped the medieval security system the first time, I had no idea.

Iain shot upright, jumping out of bed, eyes zeroing in on me. A gravelly voice croaked from his throat. “What’s goin’ on? Where’ve you been?”

I laughed. “Apparently, I walk in my sleep.
Into. Other. Dimensions.
”

Iain scowled, gears sticking in his sleep-blurred mind. “What?”

He tugged me into his warm embrace, pulling me under the cool sheets of our bed. His mumbled, incoherent words that followed had something to do with my lack of clothing again, my not listening, and his handling of some random village issue. I shrugged, nestling against him, turning on my side. He wrapped his body in every way possible around me as I gave the best explanation I could offer.

“I woke up in the mist surrounding the castle
. . .
above the castle
.” I pointed to the ceiling. “That’s not all. I talked with two men.
With wings.
They looked like warriors, but I think . . .”

Even with all the unbelievable magick Iain accepted as everyday reality, I hesitated. The list of fantastical kept growing. The limits of reason continued to be tested. Iain gently rubbed my forearm, so I forged ahead, sharing with the only other person I could.

“They seemed like angels. Only one had black wings and seemed not at all heavenly. His twin brother had wings of pure white. They showed me things—astonishing eras where they’d gifted the box to other cultures. I’ve seen the dark angel twice in the past, with the Picts.”

Iain remained silent. My only clue that he hadn’t fallen asleep behind me was his continued caresses up and down my arm.

“Iain, I have to know. The secrets stop now. I’m in too deep. What the hell is going on?”

His sigh feathered warm air across the shell of my ear, firing goose bumps down my spine. “We’re stewards of their magick. My clan has held the box and this castle for as long as I’ve pulled air into my lungs. Our lore is passed down from father to son and mother to daughter.

“They exist in a framework that holds time linear, even though the actual passage of it exists only for us, not for them. They step through dimensions where separate events happen all at once, each layered upon the other.”

I shook my head. “How? A person is born, ages, and dies. Time progresses.”

“Aye, Isa. A man, as he ages, sees the hands of time pass. He remembers what’s happened, experiences the present, and looks forward to a future. Everyone does. But to someone outside, each moment is crystallized. All are grains of sand in an hourglass, happenin’ when scheduled from each person’s vantage point, occurrin’ all at once in totality.”

Whoa.
My head spun. I’d married a warrior and philosopher. My mind balked at his concepts, even with recent events. I sighed, wondering, yet again, how I fit into the game. But Iain continued, pulling me out of analysis.

“Our castle exists, and yet it doesn’t. Built eons before its time, key areas are constructed of an element from their dimension. Everythin’ there is light, white, and prismatic, but the box, the wall, the great hall ceilin’, and the cornerstones of our curtain wall are heavy, dark, and absorptive. The dark matter pulls you into the light, transportin’ you where you’re intended.”

“You knew this all along?” My voice faltered, raising an octave.

Iain had withheld vital information. He’d blatantly lied. I pushed away from him in anger, but he tightened his arms, pulling me against his chest. I struggled until his strength made any resistance I gave wasted effort. I growled in frustration. So many things would have been easier if I’d known the mechanics of how everything had worked from the beginning.

“Isa,” he whispered. “The secrets were not mine to tell. Only once they’d shown you, could we talk about the powers they hold and my responsibility with them.”

“What is your responsibility, Iain? What do they expect of you?
Are
they angels?” Maybe if he understood what they expected of him, I’d better grasp my role in the master plan.

“I doona know,” he said. “What they want of me does not matter. My responsibility is first to my people who depend on me. The castle provides me the ability to shield them. The secrecy was somethin’ ingrained in me by my
da
, who passed down the knowledge.”

Iain rested his head gently on mine, loosening the iron grip of his arms as my body eased. His intuitive nature must have sensed my interest in cooperating rather than fleeing. I cringed at the memory of how many times I’d fled, rapidly, and on foot, from paradigm shifts.

I should imagine the unimaginable as the norm.

“How do you protect your people with the castle? What power does it have besides the portal through the wall?” I asked.

“You went through the wall?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes.” I sighed. “How else did you think I got there? I don’t even know how many times I went through it. Damn thing has a serious kick I had to brace myself for. Have you been through the wall?”

“Nay. My place is here, with my clan.” He paused, placing a tender kiss on my shoulder blade. “The element I mentioned transports the entire grounds into a space between dimensions. Although we train and engage in battles outside our curtain walls, we go undetected from the outside world when a serious threat to the castle appears. An English army advancin’ across the countryside would never find our walls to breach.”

My jaw dropped. They intermingled with neighboring clans—I’d seen evidence of their filtered hospitality at the festival—but to vanish from the face of the Earth? It boggled my mind.

“What do they see? What does someone standing in the woods see when it disappears?”

“They see the land as it existed before. When we’re gone, a former reality takes our place.”

Of course. Breathe. Everything will all make sense . . . if you admit
nothing
has to.

I forced out a lungful of air. Iain lived his entire life with the facets of my new reality. He would help me adjust—help me accept things. No other constant existed that I trusted more than Iain.

His hand tugged gently at my shoulder, and I turned toward him. Kind, hazel eyes penetrated my fear. His calmness soothed me. I persisted, asking every question I had. I needed to continue the interrogation until the well ran dry.

“What if I watched from the woods as it disappeared? In the time it takes me to blink, does the entire landscape transform?” I asked.

“Aye, I imagine it does,” he replied.

“When do you do it? How do you make it happen? Why did you do it now, when you knew I’d be returning?” Questions tumbled out as thoughts flowed, before I forgot what I needed to ask, before I got lost in the enormity of his replies.

He laughed softly as he brushed locks of hair back from my face, tucking them behind my ear. “I transport us when the walls are threatened or when I’m instructed by our guardians—your angels—and, at the very least, about once a month. Transport replenishes the power within the stones.”

“Is that why the box has more power now? Because of all the jumps I’ve made?” I wondered.

He shook his head. “Nay,
you’ve
been gainin’ power. Somehow, it’s energizin’ you each time. Remember when I used the energy from the wall to boost your travel with the box?”

“Yes. The wall came alive at your touch.” I remembered the lights brightening.

“Weel, ’tis a similar thing when I transport the clan. To make the transfer complete, I leave my hand there ’til the wall becomes completely porous. Then, we’re truly a part of their world.”

“The entire clan knows, right? They’d obviously have to. No one can leave .
 . . and the sky is
definitely
not blue anymore.”

He laughed, nodding. “Aye, they know. They were all either born here, knowin’ no other way of life, or, on a rare occasion, they married into our clan. Outsiders that accept our way of life take a pledge of secrecy with the penalty of death for breakin’ their oath of allegiance to us.”

“Wow. How many have married in?” I asked.

“Not many. Only two men and one woman have joined the clan in my lifetime,” he replied. “As to the why of the matter, I had to conceal us from attack. I’d hoped you’d make it through even with us between worlds. Robert is leading the men now into battle against an uprisin’ from neighbor clans.” His voice grew somber. “Now that you’ve returned, I’m to join them.”

“You waited for me?” I asked, surprised.

He smiled, caressing my cheek. “Aye, my beauty. I waited for you. You strengthen me. Now I can go and defend my people secure in the knowledge that my woman is safe, she is here to protect my clan in my stead, and she loves me.”

Iain’s lips descended, feathering over my mouth before capturing my lips in a hungry kiss. I ran my hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. We made love again in the late afternoon, and again and again on through the night. The rest of Iain’s world fell away as I celebrated my entire world held in my arms.

* * *

The next day dawned with Iain preparing to join in the fight. I woke fully satisfied, yet enormously tired, from a night filled with passion. Iain crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching me as I dressed in preparation to take my place as Lady of the Castle.

“Why are you are leaving, when Robert’s already been commanding in your place?” I asked, pulling a scarlet gown over my head.

“Aye, Robert is fully capable of leading our men; but Fingall has still not been found, and Gawain and Seamus have not returned.” He sighed. “One clan rising against us has ties to a man who married into our clan. He swears he’s had no contact with his kin, yet I need to be sure the Brodie are secure. We can only travel to the in-between for a short time. Our true home, the place we flourish, is
this
world. I need to make certain we’re protected here.”

I nodded. We all needed blue sky and interaction with others, even if those things brought storms and conflict. We had to enjoy the sweet things—at the risk of losing them—to fully live.

Gotta risk it to live it.

I turned, tightening the ribbon laced across my ribcage and fastening the loose ends in a bow behind my back. Iain’s faraway look as he stared at the floor told me his mind had already left. He was a good man, dedicated to those that relied on him, regardless of the personal cost.