Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3) (9 page)

“Nicholas?” she yelled as she skidded to a stop in the clearing near the largest of the cookfires. “Rowan, Jeanette! Where are you?”

Rowan stepped out of the dark maw of the main cave, wiping her hands on her skirts. “You bellowed, cousin? Jeanette is tending to the bairn. I’ve sent lads and lasses out to let the other searchers know the bairn was found. They should be back soon . . .” She was smiling until she really looked at Scotia, then at Duncan. Rowan turned back to the cave and summoned Jeanette immediately.

Jeanette came out, blinking in the soft light of the late afternoon. “Maisie will be fine, if that is what you are wanting to know,” she said. “You made quick work of finding her, Duncan.”

“’Twas Scotia who found her,” Duncan said, looking around the clearing.

“Scotia?”

Scotia waved a hand to silence everyone. “Where is Nicholas? I have news that he will need.”

“News? What news?” Jeanette asked. Several women, including Ceit with Maisie still sniffling in her arms, stepped up behind Jeanette, their faces unwelcoming but curious.

“’Tis news for the chief and Guardians,” Scotia said, scowling at the other women.

Jeanette looked behind her and must have said something, for the women melted back into the darkness of the cave. She led the way to the council circle, Rowan behind her with Scotia and Duncan bringing up the rear. ’Twas as far away as one could get from the main cave and still be in the clearing.

“Nicholas is still out searching for Maisie. What news have you, sister?” Jeanette asked.

Scotia stood mute, once more doubting the knowledge she had. She was sure Jeanette and Rowan would scoff at her
knowings
.

“Whatever it is, Scotia, tell us,” Duncan said quietly. “Tell us what you
know
.” The subtle emphasis on the last word was lost on Rowan and Jeanette, but she heard it and took courage from his belief.

“Lord Sherwood, the English soldier with the white lock of hair Jeanette saw, the one Nicholas said he knows, is setting up a trap for our allies who have been harrying his detachment as they travel here from the shore. They must be warned before they attack again tonight.”

Rowan and Jeanette simultaneously asked, “What?” and “How do you ken this?”.

“Where?” Duncan asked. “Do you
know
where?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the flash of
knowing
she had received. “Nay, not exactly, but they are not yet in the mountains.”

“And ’tis tonight the trap will be sprung?” he asked.

She nodded, carefully examining the
knowing
again. “Aye, tonight. ’Tis as if I know Sherwood’s thoughts . . . at least this thought. Do you think I really do?”

Duncan shook his head. “I dinna ken, but I think anything is possible. They are not in the mountains? Can you tell if they are coming by river or over land?”

She closed her eyes and groped for more information but found none. “I cannot say, but if the English were traveling on the river, they would not encamp on the shore each night, would they? Our allies would have little chance to attack them in the night if they stayed aboard boats. Besides, it would take too many boats to bring so many to Glen Lairig by water, if they could even navigate upstream and over rapids and falls.”

Duncan looked surprised at her analysis, but he was nodding slowly as his fingers drummed on his thighs. “You are right. They come overland. If they have not entered the bens yet, then they are too far away for any of us to travel, even on a fast horse, before nightfall. Then there is naught we can do to help our allies.”

“Nay, we ken this will happen. We must do something, else what is the use of this gift?” she demanded, her gut twisting painfully at the idea that even with her knowledge they were powerless to do anything.

“What do you mean, you ken this will happen?” Rowan asked. Scotia looked at her cousin and realized the woman was staring at her as if she’d grown another head.

“I ken it . . . I
know
it.”

“Are you getting visions like Jeanette?”

“Nay. I . . .” Scotia looked over at Duncan, unsure how to present this to them.

“She
knows
, Scotia does,” he said. “She kens things none of us do.”

Rowan started to speak but Jeanette cut her off before she got a single word out.

“’Tis an odd way to phrase this: She kens things none of us do.” She stepped in front of Scotia and took her hands. “What sorts of things do you ken that we do not, my sister?” Her voice was quiet, but as intense as her iron grip, and Scotia was grateful that Jeanette, with her incredible thirst for knowledge, was not scoffing at her but seemed genuinely curious.

“She kent where Maisie was. I did not track her. Scotia just
knew
where to find her.”

“I do not understand,” Rowan said, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand as she often did when wrestling with a problem.

Scotia did not even have to look at Duncan to know he was still drumming his fingers on his thighs.

“Perhaps we should summon Nicholas and the others of the council to join us so we only have to explain this once,” he said.

Jeanette squeezed Scotia’s hands and nodded slowly. “Aye, ’tis a good idea. Rowan, I need to finish tending the cuts on Maisie so her mum will stop fretting over them. Perhaps the three of you can collect cups and make sure there is ale”—she stopped and shook her head, for they all knew the ale had burned up in the great hall fire—“water for the men when they arrive.”

“We shall need to prepare drink and food for ten . . . nay, thirteen allies who are arriving, too,” Scotia said.

Jeanette, Rowan, and Duncan all stared at her. “What?” Jeanette asked.

Just then they heard the sound of the lookout’s horn—one blast. Friend.

Scotia looked at Duncan. “Perhaps that is them now,” he said, his eyebrows raised.

“Allies?” Rowan asked. “’Tis probably just last night’s watch making their way home. What makes you think ’tis allies?”

“Aye, what makes you think ’tis allies?” Jeanette echoed.

“Another
knowing
that came to me right after the information about Lord Sherwood. Thirteen men. I dinna ken what clan they are from, though.”

They all looked at each other.

“We shall know soon enough if ’tis allies or the night’s watch,” Duncan said.

“Aye, we will. Jamie,” Rowan called to a lad who was bringing a load of wood into the clearing, “leave that. I need you to go down the ben toward the training area. That is where Nicholas and Malcolm were going to search. If they are not already on their way back here, fetch them immediately.”

“And any other warriors you see,” Scotia called after the retreating lad. “They will all want to be here when our allies arrive,” she said to her companions, trying to sound confident, though she was anything but.

As Jeanette finished tending Maisie, the rest gathered waterskins and cups, then waited restlessly in the council circle.

It was not long before Nicholas and Malcolm, trailed by Kenneth, Uilliam, and a few other warriors and lads who had been searching for the bairn, began flooding into the clearing, their voices, for the most part, loud and happy. Peigi, who must have been in the cave, was now waiting in the shade of the cavern’s mouth. She quickly sent the lads off on other tasks as the chief’s council gathered in their accustomed circle of logs and stones.

“What news?” Nicholas asked.

Rowan tugged on his hand as she took a seat, pulling him down to sit beside her. “Duncan? Scotia?” She raised her brows at them across the small circle. “Who shall start?”

Duncan quickly filled in Nicholas, Malcolm, Uilliam, and Kenneth on what they knew of Lord Sherwood’s plans.

“I know not how you ken this,” Kenneth said, “but it sounds like they are in Clan Campbell territory. Angus Dubh, their chief, is a wily man. I doubt not that he has eyes on the English even during the day and kens exactly what they are about, just as we would be . . . will be.”

“There are also allies on their way into this glen,” Scotia said, not waiting for Duncan.

The circle was quiet, then Kenneth spoke. “How do you ken this, child?”

At the word
child
, all the tiny hairs on Scotia’s body rose like the hackles on a dog. “I just ken it,” she said.

“She
knows
things, Kenneth,” Duncan said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “’Tis Scotia who learned of the English trap this night. ’Twas Scotia who found the wee lassie, not me. She
knew
exactly where to look for her.”

“How?” Nicholas asked. “She did not track the wee lass?” He directed this question to Duncan, who shook his head but said nothing. “How did you find her, Scotia?”

Scotia’s ire rose at the doubt in her chief’s voice, and in preparation for a battle, for she knew already they would not believe her. But before she could spring to her feet Duncan reached back and laid a hand on her arm, holding her in place. He glanced over his shoulder at her and subtly shook his head as if he could hear her thoughts.

“Just tell them how it happened.” He sat back, stretching his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, as he slowly looked each person in the circle in the eyes, but he never took his hand off her arm. “They will listen without judging.”

It was as if they all took a long breath as tension eased.

Duncan looked over at her, his eyes filled with what she could only call encouragement and support, and gave her arm a small squeeze before he let it go.

“Just tell them.”

She pulled the warmth of his belief around her like plate armor, focusing on it instead of the disbelief she expected from everyone else. “When I said her name, the child’s, I just . . .
knew
. I knew where she was and how to get there. I know not where the knowledge came from, nor why it came to me. Later, after we found her and her mum had brought her back here, Duncan and I were . . . talking.” For a moment the taste and unexpected passion of that kiss tried to overtake her senses again, but she forced her mind to stay on the trouble at hand, not the man sitting beside her. “And all of a sudden, I
knew
, first that the English lord planned a surprise attack for our allies and that they had not made their way into the bens yet, and then, almost immediately, I knew a small contingent of our allies neared this glen.”

Nicholas looked at Jeanette, and Scotia knew he was asking her, without speaking, if she thought Scotia spoke the truth.

Jeanette got that look that was both far away and inward that signaled she was searching through the things she had learned before rendering an opinion.

“There are records of some Guardians,” Jeanette said, her voice dreamy, almost as if she were reading directly from the scrolls that held the Chronicles of the Guardians as she spoke, “who had this sort of gift.”

Scotia held her breath. A Guardian gift? She had hoped, but only now realized she had not thought it possible.

“But Scotia is not a Guardian,” Kenneth said, “is she?”

Jeanette and Rowan looked at each other, Rowan’s auburn brows raised as if she, too, questioned Jeanette without words.

“Perhaps,” Jeanette said. “We did not ken there could be two Guardians at the same time. Who are we to say there could not be three?”

“Truly?” Scotia said. “You think this is a Guardian gift?” She hated the way her voice almost squeaked with the hope that engulfed her.

“I think we need to speak to Scotia alone, if you will all excuse us,” Rowan said, and she and Jeanette rose.

“But the allies,” Scotia said, also rising to her feet, unsure of whether she wanted more to know if she was right or if she was a Guardian. “Should we not wait to find out if I am right, if my
knowing
in this is true? There is no point in testing me if it is not.”

“We do not intend to test you, cousin,” Rowan said. “There is no test to pass to become a Guardian. The Targe stone either strengthens your gift, or it does not. There is nothing we can do to influence it one way or the other. And I do not doubt that it is a gift. You found Maisie, aye?”

“Aye.”

“And she has had other
knowings
as well,” Duncan said. “Scotia, you should go with them now. When our allies arrive, which should be any moment judging by when the horn sounded, it will take time to settle them, feed them after their journey, and to ascertain what strengths they each bring to bear. And if it is only the watch returning, then it will not matter that you have gone off with Rowan and Jeanette—but I do not believe ’tis the watch.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her back down by it, giving it a squeeze before he released her. “If this
knowing
is a Guardian gift, then the Targe stone will make it more powerful, perhaps even letting you direct it to the things we most need to ken in order to overcome the English force. That alone would be more useful to us than all the information the watchers and scouts we’ve sent out can gather.” He dropped his voice and caught her gaze with his. “That alone would make you a part of the battle as you so wish. Patience, careful planning, and knowledge of our enemy’s weakness comes first. Remember? This gift might make all of those things easier, which means we would be able to protect our home and our people much better than we can now.”

Scotia started to object, though she did not know why. If she was a Guardian then the clan would have to stop shunning her,
and she would be part of the battle, as he said. So why were her hands icy at the thought of facing the Targe stone?

He touched her once more, this time letting his hand rest lightly on her forearm while he finished.

“For now, ’tis the best use of our time if you, Rowan, and Jeanette can determine if this is a Guardian gift while we assess these allies you ken will join us soon. Remember, though, even if it is not, ’twill be of use in protecting the clan.”

In her head she still argued to wait, to put off what was surely a test even though Rowan and Jeanette said ’twas not, but the gentle pressure on her arm, and the reminder of her lessons had her modulating her voice, bringing it down from a demand to a statement. “Very well, but I want to be part of the battle, whether or no I have a Guardian gift.”