Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) (27 page)

She rolled over, putting her back to the Guardians and their husbands, and pulled her plaid tightly to her as she tried to put everything out of her mind. But there, deep within, she
knew
that Duncan kept a restless watch not far away. Tears gathered but, as always, she refused to let them fall. She would always
know
where Duncan was.

A
S SOON AS
the sky began to lighten with the coming day Jeanette had scried with her cup and could see no trouble for them at the Story Stone, though as always, she said she could not promise she had seen this specific day. Truly they did not have a choice, even if there was trouble waiting for them there. Once the English moved into Glen Lairig ’twould be too dangerous to go to the stone, and the Guardians were sure, as was Scotia, that
if she were chosen as another Guardian, it would happen at the Story Stone.

When the two Guardians, their Protectors, Duncan, and Scotia left the Guardians’ bower and the Glen of Caves for the Story Stone meadow, the sky was changing from pale grey to the bright blue of a summer’s morn, embellished with lacy clouds in shades of pinks and purples. Birds twittered and sang all around them, a dawn chorus that usually pleased Scotia, but this morning she found the noise not melodic and beautiful but loud, and each bird at odds with the others until the sound battered at her senses, making her grumpy and out of sorts, though she did her best to keep her feelings to herself.

They did not take a direct route to the stone, but rather searched out Kenneth, Uilliam, and the contingent of warriors they had been working with to set up traps and ambushes for the English. That project would have to wait until this test was complete. For now, every warrior they could find must accompany them to the meadow, leaving only enough to keep watch for the English. The safety of the Guardians came before all else.

Each time they gathered more of the MacAlpin warriors, Duncan would move to the back of the growing group. He told Nicholas he would watch the rear, but Scotia knew, without her gift, that he really sought to put more distance, and more people, between the two of them. He had not looked at her all morning, nor answered her quiet “good morn.”

She wanted to demand his attention, and she would have once gotten into some mischief to get it, but this time she knew better. She knew she could not force him to talk to her, or even to look at her, and she knew any “mischief” she got into now would put lives in danger, so she kept her place near the front of the group, just behind Jeanette and Rowan, and tried to forget that Duncan was not next to her.

The two Protectors, along with her da and Uilliam, led the group, and a contingent of six warriors surrounded the front
and sides where the Guardians walked. Just behind Scotia came the rest of their fighting force, leaving Scotia as the only individual in the group with no particular role to play should they find trouble, though Nicholas had surprised her when they woke before dawn by telling her to bring her weapons. She had gladly strapped her sword and her dagger at her waist, and taken up her round wooden shield. Part of her wished they would find trouble so she could prove her warrior skills, but she knew that would be a terrible thing. Besides, if her wishes really could come true, Scotia would shortly find herself a Guardian, and she, Rowan, and Jeanette would, on the spot if they could, erect a true Highland Targe, stopping the English before they ever set foot in Glen Lairig. But wishing had never accomplished anything for Scotia.

Despite the cool of the deep wood, she wiped her sweaty hands on her trews and pushed the stray tendrils of her hair that always escaped her braid off her sticky face.

As they drew close to the Story Stone, Malcolm gave orders, spreading most of the warriors just inside the perimeter of the meadow to keep watch for anyone who approached, and to stop anyone who did, at all cost. Her da and Uilliam would join that contingent, as would Duncan. The remaining eight warriors were to come to the stone with the Guardians, the Protectors, and Scotia.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Last night you agreed I would be in the inner perimeter.”

“Aye, but I had a chance to sleep on it and decided different this morn,” Malcolm said. “Nicholas agrees.”

“But he should come with us,” Scotia said, then immediately regretted it when both Malcolm and Duncan turned black looks her way. She threw up her hands. “I am not a Guardian, so what I want has nothing to do with this.” She turned away and bit her bottom lip, determined to keep silent until the she and the Guardians were at the stone, though she wanted him by her side as she faced her future.

He was the one who understood her gift best, better even than she did, so if things did not go as she and the Guardians hoped they would, his counsel might be of great help. But maybe that was why they sent him away. Maybe they did not want him helping her. She turned back to find him staring at her, but he quickly averted his gaze.

“Keep them safe,” he said to Malcolm and Nicholas. The champion and the chief just nodded, and they all prepared to take up their positions. Duncan disappeared silently in the direction that Kenneth and Uilliam had taken. The women and the remaining warriors waited for the signal that all was clear in the perimeter, then headed carefully out to the standing stone.

As soon as they reached the hillock where the English had held Scotia, she led the Guardians around to the far side of the stone and showed them the symbols she had found the last time she and Duncan were here.

Jeanette stood, staring at the carvings, while Rowan knelt upon the ground, opened the ermine sack, and spread it so the Highland Targe stone sat in the middle, on top of the three swirls in a circle symbol. The unclaimed broken-arrow symbol was closest to the Story Stone. The warrior in Scotia was happy that she would have something to protect her back while, at least in the direction she was facing, she would be able to see any trouble approaching in time to prepare for battle.

“You may need to touch the Story Stone, Scotia,” Rowan said, “as Jeanette was in contact with the stone in the grotto that holds the mirror symbol when she was chosen as a Guardian.”

“How will I know if I need to?” she asked.

Rowan shrugged. Jeanette settled in her spot to Scotia’s right, and shook her head.

“Trust your instincts,” Jeanette said, as she pulled her small wooden scrying cup from a fold of her arisaid and held it up for Malcolm to fill it to overflowing with water from a skin. Jeanette
set the water in front of her, near the edge of the ermine sack. “If you feel you should touch the stone, do.”

“That is not much guidance, sister.”

“It is not. Perhaps someday we will understand enough to teach the next Guardian better, but for now, this is the best we can do.”

“Jeanette? The blessing?” Rowan said, her auburn brows raised.

“Aye.” Jeanette said the words none of them understood while gracefully flowing her hands through the air in the series of symbols Elspet had taught her. “We should set up a barrier, too, as we have done in the bower.”

Rowan nodded. Without a word she lifted the Targe stone in her hands and held it heart high. Jeanette touched the water lightly with the fingers of her right hand and the stone with her left. Almost immediately Scotia felt a prickle on her skin as a barrier that could not be seen, but could be felt, spread out from the stone until it surrounded the three women, the standing stone, and the two Protectors. The other five warriors created a perimeter just outside the edge of the barrier. Scotia was surprised.

“No wind?” She looked at Rowan. Usually Rowan’s gift was accompanied by at least a breeze.

“Only when I use my specific gift,” Rowan said, settling the Targe back on its sack. “Let us begin.” Then both Guardians looked at Scotia.

“Am I to do something?” Scotia asked

“Do whatever makes sense to you,” Jeanette said.

Scotia considered this lack of direction, then decided to look at it as Duncan had taught her to assess a foe she knew nothing about. She started with the little she did know, putting together the common pieces of both Rowan’s and Jeanette’s experiences. Rowan was touching Elspet when the Targe chose her, a direct transfer from the old Guardian to the new. Jeanette was touching the stone in the grotto with the symbol for her gift inscribed upon it when she was chosen and her gift burst through her.

Scotia looked over her shoulder and up at the stone that loomed over her head, then stood and faced it. She reached up and pressed her hands to its weathered face, as close as she could get to the broken-arrow symbol, though it was still just out of reach.

An almost painful rush of goose bumps raced over her skin, raising the hairs at the nape of her neck, but that was all. Nothing happened. She tried to quiet her mind as Jeanette did, but that never worked.

“It is useless!” she said, spinning to face the Guardians, but they were both looking at her wide-eyed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

O
NCE
D
UNCAN CAUGHT
up with Kenneth and Uilliam, Kenneth instructed him to head west to look for the English, but Duncan knew ’twas Kenneth’s way of sending him even farther away from Scotia, the Story Stone meadow, and the test that would prove what he knew deep in his bones: Scotia would be chosen as a Guardian
if
she had changed enough to be worthy of that position and that responsibility. As he strode away through the wood, he forced himself to keep going without looking back, without questioning the decision Malcolm had made to send him away, or Kenneth’s to send him even farther. ’Twas what he wanted, after all, to be as far away from her as possible. ’Twas much easier to remember her failures, her lies, when he could not look upon her, when he could not see the change in the way she carried herself.

Her bearing this morning had been—He could not put a name to it, but she
felt
like a different person. She had looked at him calmly, but had done nothing except say “good morn” as she passed him and took her place behind the Guardians. He realized the look in her eye in that moment had been solemn, thoughtful, and yet he could tell she was nervous about the coming day.

As much as he knew ’twas best for himself that he was not present at the stone, still he wanted to be there to celebrate her success when she was chosen. If she was chosen. He could not decide if he was certain she would be, or if he was certain she was not worthy of the honor. In truth the events of the last day, the
rapid changes in Scotia’s behavior, her admission of guilt in the death of Myles, and the revelation that she blamed herself for her mum’s death made him think . . . hope . . . that she was finally worthy. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that was the thing she would not tell him—of her belief that she was responsible for her mum’s death, and that if she could not bring herself to admit that, then she could not admit to her part in Myles’s death.

But she had.

Twice broken. Twice mended. Sometimes when something broke and was mended, it ended up stronger than before.

He stopped for a moment, debating with himself. Duncan knew he could not be present when Scotia presented herself to the stone, when she was chosen as a Guardian, though there was little in this world he hoped for more, for that would be a sign that she really had changed, that she really was worthy. He knew Rowan and Jeanette would be happy for Scotia, and that they would immediately start to determine how the three of them could work together to protect the clan. He knew Nicholas and Malcolm, as Protectors of the Guardians, would keep her safe from any danger that might present itself while they were so very exposed at the Story Stone. He knew the warriors spread out around the Guardians and their Protectors in two circles would hold the English soldiers at bay if they happened to come upon the place while the Guardians worked together.

But he also knew, no matter how angry or disappointed he was with her, if anything happened to Scotia he would not forgive himself for leaving her safety to the Protectors and the clan. He also knew that there was nothing he could do at this point but to keep walking, to keep putting distance between the two of them as Malcolm and Kenneth had instructed. He had no choice but to trust that she would prove her worth, or she wouldn’t, all on her own.

Duncan stopped for a moment and settled his distracted mind by carefully cataloging the world around him, just as he often counseled Scotia of late. The sharp aroma of pine swirled around
him on the breeze, the scent so strong he could taste it in the back of his mouth. Small birds chirped, flitting from one treetop to another, and somewhere in the distance he heard the melancholy
cruck cruck
of a raven. He noted the location of the sun through the canopy of trees, and though it was just barely past midday he could tell that he had veered off from his westerly course to a more southwesterly direction.

Much to his chagrin, he also noticed that he was being followed. He should listen to his own advice and pay attention to what was happening in the moment, not what happened yesterday or might happen tomorrow.