Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) (10 page)

Duncan looked around, and it was only then that Scotia realized the two of them had been talking solely to each other while the others watched the exchange, some with surprise, others with a smile. Only her father glowered.

“I promise, when the time comes, if you are ready, you will fight,” Duncan whispered, and she realized he was doing his best to keep her secret, so she nodded.

“I shall put myself in Jeanette’s and Rowan’s hands—for now,” she said, more loudly so everyone was once more included in the conversation.

“Let us see what we can learn.” Jeanette motioned for Scotia and Rowan to follow her out of the circle.

“I will hold you to your promise,” Scotia said to Duncan quietly, as she stood.

“I did not make it lightly. Will you promise to remain calm and cooperate with your sister and your cousin?”

Scotia glanced at Jeanette and Rowan, who had stopped by the trail that led down the ben, waiting for her to catch up. She knew they were anxious to learn if Scotia would join them as
Guardians, and Scotia had to admit, in spite of her doubts, she was as well.

“I promise,” she said.

“I shall hold you to that, ye ken?”

Scotia nodded her head. “I will patiently let Jeanette and Rowan do what they will to me.” She started to follow Jeanette, then returned to Duncan once more. “I expect to hear everything about our allies when I return,” she said only to him.

“I expected nothing less,” he said, smiling at her.

She glanced once more at everyone else in the circle and still saw reactions that ranged from smiles to confusion to the even deeper frown on her father’s face, but she did not care what they thought. Duncan believed her. Duncan was her ally. And if this gift she had not realized was a gift proved her to be a Guardian, they would all have to believe in her, too.

CHAPTER EIGHT

S
COTIA FOLLOWED
J
EANETTE
and Rowan a short way down the ben from the caves, then along what had originally been a faint deer trail but which had over the last weeks quickly become a path, now that her sister and cousin came here daily to practice their Guardian skills. As they neared the burn—Jeanette needed water for her gift of visions—a strange tingling sensation washed over Scotia’s skin, there and gone again in a single step. Rowan and Jeanette glanced at each other.

“What was that?” Scotia asked, their behavior telling her it was not her imagination.

“A barrier,” Rowan said, with a bemused smile. “’Tis too small to be of much use, but we constructed it three days ago, and it still holds.”

“But we walked right through it,” Scotia said, looking behind her to see if she could tell where the barrier was. There was nothing to see.

“Aye, we can, because we have no ill intent.” Jeanette was kneeling next to the burn. Rowan knelt facing her. She pulled the snow-white ermine sack from where it hung at her belt, laid it on the ground between them, and pulled it open until it lay in a flat circle.

The Highland Targe lay on it, a heavy grey stone the size of a warrior’s fist, flattened on opposite sides so that it looked like a small, fat shield—a targe. Rowan turned the stone over, revealing the three swirls in a circle symbol that had been incised on it
by some ancient Guardian forgotten by time. Rowan settled the stone in the center of the open sack, directly on top of the same swirls in a circle symbol that had been painted in a now-faded red dye on the amber-colored hide.

Jeanette rotated the sack until she seemed satisfied with the arrangement. Two of the three additional symbols painted on the sack around the central symbol were aligned with the two Guardians. A third, an arrow broken in two places, was arranged facing Scotia. Both Guardians sat back upon their heels and looked at Scotia expectantly.

“Have you actually tested the barrier with someone of ‘ill intent’?” she asked as she slowly approached the two women and the stone.

“Nay,” Rowan said, “but if you happen to anger someone enough to goad them into trying to harm you, you can lead them here and test it for us.”

“Very funny.” Scotia knelt down and sat back on her heels, facing the stone. The burn burbled happily opposite her, with Jeanette on her right and Rowan on her left.

“Tell us about this
knowing
,” Rowan said.

“There is nothing to tell. I simply
know
things that I have no way of knowing. I do not ken how or why I know these things.”

“How long has this been going on?” Rowan again.

Scotia had to think about that question. “I think . . . I think it has been going on my whole life.” The two women said nothing. “I did not think ’twas anything unusual until today. I assumed it happened to everyone, but apparently it does not.”

“Other than today, are there specific times this has happened?” Jeanette asked.

Scotia’s first thought had her clenching her teeth, but her second thought she could share. “Remember how I went in after Ian when the great hall was afire? I knew he was in there, though I had not seen him go in, nor did anyone else seem to ken he was in there. I knew it. I knew he was in the kitchen. I knew that he
was very afraid, and could not get himself out. I do not know how I knew it, but I did. Just like I knew where Maisie was today, and just as I know ’tis allies, not the watch, who are arriving.”

“But you did not ken the curtain wall would fall, did you?” Rowan asked.

Scotia shook her head, remembering that day when Nicholas had come into their lives and everything had changed. She sighed. “Nay, I knew Conall was there waiting for me, but that was only because I heard his whistle when I went out for a walk. So how does this work?” She waved a hand at the Targe stone. “How do we tell if I am another Guardian?”

Both she and Rowan looked at Jeanette for guidance.

Jeanette shrugged. “Rowan and I were just taken by the power of the stone. We did not do anything to cause either of those events . . . at least nothing that we are aware of.”

“Perhaps if she tries to use her gift with the stone?” Rowan asked. Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head as she reached out and touched her symbol painted on the sack, an inverted V with three wavy lines under it. “I do not understand how any of this happens. I was first struck with my gift in the bailey, the night of Elspet’s last blessing, but wasn’t taken by the Targe until that night in Elspet’s chamber. Jeanette was led to the grotto by the deer with the bent antler and then found the stone in the pool there with her symbol”—Rowan pointed at the mirror painted on the part of the sack closest to Jeanette—“when she was overtaken with the power of the Targe.”

“There does not seem to be any similarity except that we were both overcome with the force of the power when we were claimed by it as Guardians. Have you felt such a force?” Jeanette asked.

Scotia shook her head slowly, then faster. “I would ken it if I had, would I not? I have not experienced anything like what I saw when Rowan was chosen. I would not forget such an event.”

“Nay, you would not,” Rowan said, and Jeanette silently agreed.

“So then what are we doing here? Just waiting for it to overtake me? That does not seem likely since it has never happened before,” Scotia said, disappointment making her words harsher than she meant for them to be.

“We are still learning, Scotia. Clearly we do not understand all of what the Highland Targe can do, or how to use it,” Rowan said, her voice was calm but tension showed in her rigid posture and furled brow.

“In truth, we ken little of how the Targe works, sister. Perhaps we should just see if you can use the Targe to direct your
knowing
to something you wish to ken, like exactly where the English are now, or when they will arrive in Glen Lairig?”

“I have already told you where they are today. As for when they will arrive, your gift is better than my guess. My
knowing
does not seem to deal with anything in the future as your visions do. In every case I can think of I
knew
something that was happening at that moment, but that I could not see or hear.”

“Very well,” Jeanette said, “let us simply see if you can use the Targe to direct your gift and work from there.”

“But how will we determine if what I
know
is true?”

“’Tis a good question . . .” Jeanette looked about. “Does your knowing work with objects?”

Scotia immediately thought of the dagger that had been used to kill her mother, and later Myles. She always seemed to know exactly where it was of late, needing only to think of it to find it. “Aye, with some objects, if I ken what the object is and think of it.”

Jeanette looked at her, surprise lighting her face. “’Tis how you always seemed to know where Mum had mislaid the hair combs Da had given her, isn’t it?”

Scotia had to think back to the many times her mum had been scouring the castle looking for the combs she wore almost daily but inevitably took out somewhere other than her chamber and mislaid. “Aye. I never really thought about it like that. I
didn’t always
know
where her lost things were, but could always find those for her.”

“Good.” Jeanette pulled the sack of herbs and simples she always kept with her off her belt and held it up for Scotia to see. “I shall go and hide this somewhere. When I come back we shall see if you can tell us where it is.”

Jeanette took the pouch and left by the path. The quiet noises of the restless wood settled over Scotia and Rowan, accentuated by the burbling stream as it flowed over its rocky bed. Scotia took the opportunity to look closely at the open ermine sack, noting the symbols that she had only fleetingly glimpsed in the past. The inverted V with three wavy lines under it was for Rowan’s gift, the energy that comes from beneath the ground that she focused with the Targe to move things without touching them. The mirror symbol was aligned with Jeanette. The mirror, a scrying tool, was like the water in a cup that Jeanette used to tap into her gift of visions.

And in front of Scotia was an arrow, broken in two places so it formed a Z.

“What does this one mean?” Scotia said, lightly running the tip of her finger over the details of the arrow symbol painted in red on the hide.

“We do not ken. Not yet. If ’tis yours, then you will understand what it means when the Targe claims you.”

Before Scotia could form another question Jeanette was back. As she settled into her spot, Rowan lifted the Targe stone and handed it to Scotia.

“You may or may not need to be touching the Targe to focus your gift through it. I must touch it to focus the energy I pull from the ground. Jeanette needs it near, but she must be touching or peering into water to control her visions. Water is the source of her gift. Do you ken the source of yours? It might help you to understand how you must use the Targe . . . if you are to be a Guardian.”

Scotia’s head was starting to ache. “I do not ken the source of my
knowing
,” she said. “But if the arrow is for a third Guardian, perhaps air is the source? An arrow flies.” She ran her finger along the Z-shaped broken arrow again. “Except this arrow will not fly.” She sighed. “Can we get on with this?”

“We can. Do you remember the first blessing Mum taught us?” Jeanette asked, her voice pitched low and soothing, almost the same voice their mum had used to calm Scotia when she was little and angry.

“Of course I do.”

“’Tis a good idea to start with that.”

“And then what?”

Jeanette shrugged. “We shall have to wait and see.”

Scotia took a deep breath, glad she could start with something familiar, something known to her. She held the Targe stone up, as she’d seen her mum do many times, moving it to her right, then to her left, then up over her head, and back down to the right. Next she held it in front of her, heart high, and whispered the simple blessing in a long-lost language. And then she tried to
know
where Jeanette’s healer’s bag was, though she really did not ken how to force the knowledge to her. When that didn’t work, she waited for the
knowing
to come.

“Well?” Rowan asked.

“Well what?” Scotia replied.

“Can you feel the power of the Targe?”

“Nay. I feel nothing.”

“Close your eyes and concentrate on Jeanette’s healer bag.”

Scotia did as instructed, though she was sure now ’twas a waste of time. The stone did not claim her as a Guardian. Power did not surge through her as she had witnessed when Rowan was made Guardian. Nothing happened. She could imagine where Jeanette might have hidden the bag, but she did not
know
. She opened her eyes. “Nothing. How does the stone work for you?” she asked, looking to Jeanette for guidance.

Jeanette chewed on her lower lip as she considered Scotia’s question. “When I call my gift, I let my mind go blank as I stare into the water in my cup, and it just . . . comes. How do you do it, Rowan?”

“You mean you two have not figured this part out yet?” Scotia lowered the stone to her lap and glared at her companions.

“’Tis not like we have been at this over long,” Rowan said, squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine. “For me, when I hold the Targe stone I can feel the energy moving up through me. I can pull on it with my thoughts, or push it through the stone the same way. If ’twas not so clear that I am actually doing something, I would think ’twas all in my imagination . . . but it is not. ’Tis very real.”

Scotia pondered what they had said. “So you can feel it and manipulate the energy with your thoughts, aye?” She directed this question to Rowan, who nodded. “And you do nothing but stare into a cup of water and your gift finds you, aye?” she said to Jeanette, who also nodded.

“’Twas like what we could do before we became Guardians, but more so . . . much, much more so, and we do not have to wait for our gifts to come to us anymore, we can call our gifts with the Targe upon need,” Rowan said.

“That is not very helpful,” Scotia mumbled as she once more raised the stone so it was on the level with her heart. She closed her eyes again and tried to quiet her mind, taking long slow breaths as her mum had tried to teach her when she was bristling with anger or frustration, as Duncan had taught her more recently. After a few minutes she gave that up, for her mind was never quiet, and instead she pictured the bag once more and said the words “Jeanette’s bag” in her mind, over and over, as she had done with the child’s name earlier.