The Raven's Wish (24 page)

Hugh and Callum had suggested a wooded isle in the center of a small, remote loch not far from Castle Glenran. The lochan was well-hidden, tucked against the base of a broad hill and shielded by a thick pine forest. The cattle and sheep could be left there for days, for there was plenty of grass on the isle. The forest would discourage visitors, and would muffle the sound of the herd.

Another hour or so later, herding the animals with a grim perseverance born of stubbornness and pure exhaustion, they reached the loch. A submerged sandbar linked the shore to the isle. Washed over by water only a few inches deep, the access to the little isle was successfully concealed.

Elspeth soon discovered that guiding the animals along the narrow sandbar required enormous patience. Only two or three animals at a time, in long columns, could be led to the isle. The Frasers walked alongside to prevent strays from leaping out into the deeper water of the loch.

Swiping with one hand at the straggling hair falling over her brow, Elspeth walked knee-deep in bleating ewes, slogging through cold water that soaked her deerskin boots and the trews she wore under her plaid for added warmth. She stumbled once or twice as the soft-bodied animals nearly tripped her.

Thick mist from off the loch drifted over the sandbar and the isle. Dawn seemed to hang back, although the air was now a paler gray. Ahead, she could just see Magnus's blond head as he ushered a portion of the sheep onto the isle.

Nearby, shadowy in the mist, she saw Duncan, who escorted the last of the sheep to the place where the cattle had already been hidden. Although he had not shown the strain of the long night, the subtle droop of his head and shoulders told her that he was very tired.

The raid had been an enormous triumph, and she knew that the Frasers owed their thanks to Duncan Macrae. Soon the MacDonalds would return a raid; they would ride past the lochan with its little wooded isle, and would find none of their own animals on Fraser land. And the Frasers and all their kin would be on guard this time when the MacDonalds came.

She was certain that no MacDonald raid could equal what the Frasers had achived this night. Such fine reiving earned respect in the Highlands. The Frasers had good reason, now, to swell their chests with pride; they had humiliated and bested an enemy, and though all knew that the gesture might be returned in force, they could enjoy their triumph for now.

When the last of the sheep had been taken to the center of the isle, Elspeth breathed a deep sigh of relief and sat down on a rock by the shore. Thin waves lapped over the smooth brown stones at her feet. Looking around, she saw little beyond vague shapes in the fog.

Emerging from the drifting blur, a few of her cousins sat near her on the pebbled shore. Several of the others had already crossed the sandbar back to the mainland to stay with the horses. Magnus bent over to scoop handfuls of water to drink, and then splashed his face, his golden braids dipping into the water. Sighing and groaning, Kenneth and Callum dropped down on their knees to drink and wash as well.

Walking out of the mist, Duncan stood near her. "Go back to Glenran now, all of you," he said. "Send two men back here, fresh for the day, to watch the cattle. I will stay until they arrive."

"I will stay with you," Callum said, and Duncan nodded.

"And I will as well," Elspeth said.

He tilted a brow at her. "You are exhausted."

"No more than you or Callum. I will stay."

He sighed, and nodded. "As you wish."

The others left, walking back over the sandbar to mount their garrons. Elspeth could hear the soft, distorted sounds of their departure as her kinsmen left.

Bending forward, she scooped up some water to drink. Then she fumbled at the fastenings of her deerskin boots, laced up to the knee, and removed the boots. She dipped her toes in the water, easing her feet into the chill. After a moment she dried her feet with an end of her plaid.

"You should have gone back," Duncan said. She glanced up. He stood just behind her, fog swirling around him.

"I would not leave you now," she said.

"What did you say?" Callum asked.

"We should come away from the shore," Duncan said, turning away. He led them deeper into the isle, to an expanse of rocks and grass between two small knolls, the whole edged by pines and ringed by the water of the lochan. The cattle and sheep were grazing in this central, hilly area, their lowing and bleating muffled by fog and pines and water.

The three of them sat down on a hillock. Elspeth yawned and sat back while Duncan and Callum spoke quietly of the raid, and of their satisfaction with the evening's outcome. They discussed the number of animals taken, and Callum mentioned a few farmers whom he thought should be given some of the animals.

After a while, Callum yawned as loudly as Elspeth.

"Go to sleep, the two of you," Duncan said. "I can stay awake. But when I am back at Glenran, I may sleep for the rest of the week." Callum removed his plaid and stretched out in his long shirt. He wrapped the plaid over him like a blanket.

Duncan turned to Elspeth. "You as well," he said.

She yawned again, and undid the brooch at her shoulder, then unwound the length of her plaid until she sat in her long shirt and plaid trews.

She smoothed the cloth flat on the ground and covered herself with part of it. For the greatest warmth, she knew that she should layer heather sprigs inside the plaid and fold it double; but she was too tired to bother.

She glanced at Callum. Though only a few paces away, he was shrouded in mist. But his snores were loud enough to compete with the lowing of the cattle.

"
Dhia
," Duncan muttered. "The MacDonalds will be led straight to us." He reached out with his foot and shoved at Callum, who snorted and rolled over, quieter now.

Elspeth laughed. Duncan turned to look at her. "Rest now,
mo càran
," he said. "You have done a good night's work."

Duncan got up to stroll a few paces away, watching the herd. In the heavy, obscuring mists, Elspeth soon could not see him. She scrambled to her feet, glanced at sleeping Callum, and carried her plaid with her to find Duncan.

He sat on the slant of a knoll, knees drawn up, his face thoughtful. He glanced at her silently as she dropped down beside him and spread out her plaid. Reaching out a hand to him, touching his arm, she felt the feathery layer of dark hair, and the ripple of hard muscle beneath. He took her hand in his. A wash of feelings, lush and pleasant, flooded over her at the simple touch. Tugging a little on his hand, she wanted him to lay inside the cocoon with her.

"Rest, Duncan," she said. "We are safe here. No one can see or hear us from the mainland."

"I cannot rest," he said, letting go of her hand. Startled by his abrupt gesture, she frowned at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I must watch." He propped his arm on his upraised knee and looked away from her.

She sat up, suddenly unable to rest. Her plaid dropped away and the chilly mist penetrated her shirt, but she hardly noticed. She reached out and put a hand on his back, flexing her fingers to massage the taut muscle beneath his shirt. She knew how tired he was, and saw how seriously he took his responsibility to watch while she and Callum rested.

A shock, small lightning, went through her fingertips. She shuddered. When the vision came, sudden and vivid, it nearly rocked her over. Images flashed through her mind. Flattening her hand on Duncan's back, she placed her other hand on the earth for support.

"We cannot sleep. We cannot stay here," she said.

He looked at her, his brows lowered sharply. "What?"

"I—" She shook her head, confused. "I touched you, and then I saw a vision. A hand holding a raised dirk, and then another." She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against a rising discomfort, like the ghost of a physical pain, and real, gut-centered anguish. "Red plaids, several of them, like some MacDonalds wear. Men moving through moonlight. Men in a battle, yet silent. There are no screams, but there is death—death all around you—"

"Stop." His voice was a hard-edged growl. "Stop this."

"Duncan," she whispered. "I saw you stabbed in the back. You will come to harm if we stay here. The MacDonalds—" She stood suddenly, grabbing at her plaid, hastily trying to wrap it around her again. "We have to leave—"

"Elspeth." He stood, swift and tall, to grab at her arms. "Stop." He shook her as she attempted to pull up her plaid. Her hands trembled. She was breathing too rapidly, but could not calm herself. The vision had terrified her.

"Elspeth. We are in no danger." He pulled her to him, hard and fast, holding her tightly, covering her head with his hand. She grabbed at him, pressing her face into his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat. "Hush, girl."

"But I saw—"

"What you saw is in the past," he said, his voice low in her ear. "You saw something that happened years ago."

She raised her head. "What?"

"Men in moonlight, men in red plaids. Someone stabbing me in the back. It all happened, just as you described. But it happened many years ago." He was holding her so tightly that she could feel the tremor in his strong arms, could hear the ragged draw of his breath. "Somehow, when you touched my shirt just over the scar on my back, you saw what caused the wound."

"Duncan. What happened to you, then?" Her voice nearly broke over the words.

He stroked her hair slowly. "It was in the past," he said. "It is over. There is no need to speak of it."

"But—"

"Hush you," he said. "We are both tired, and such matters cannot ease our minds, or our bodies. Lay down now, and close your eyes. Go on." When she did not move, he pushed down on her shoulders.

Stunned, she sat down on the ground and lay on her side. He knelt and tucked the thick plaid around her. She watched him, saw his face as if in a dream, wreathed by mists and the weak light of the dawn.

"Tell me," she said. "I want to know what happened."

Duncan brushed at the hair that edged her brow. "Someday I will tell you. But not now." He slid his hand over her head. "I do not understand how you could have seen that. But you did. Somehow you did." His eyes were keen and blue through the fog. "I wonder if you speak the truth in all your visions, after all."

"Duncan." She felt for his hand, and he wrapped his fingers over hers. "I am beginning to be afraid of the truth."

"
Mo càran
," he said. "Do not worry."

"I only want you safe, Duncan," she whispered. Fatigue crept over her like the enveloping mist, obscuring coherent thought, dragging her under. She lay down on the plaid and rested her cheek on her hand, closing her eyes.

After a moment, she heard his faint whisper as she drifted into sleep. "Somehow,
mo càran
, I will stay safe."

* * *

Elspeth laughed again, a light trill that floated up with the mist and echoed faintly. She let the joyous feeling wash through her, welcome after the unhappiness of an hour earlier. She saw Duncan grin, a grudging smile, and it lifted her heart further.

"Hush you," Duncan said. "You will wake Callum. A short nap and you are as giddy as a babe. I told you I could not sing."

She smiled. "And I promised to teach you. Listen again, now." She sang one line from a song, a simple, engaging pattern, her notes pure and round.

Duncan sighed and tried to imitate her. His voice strained over the melody, and fell flat. Elspeth nodded patiently, and repeated the third and fourth notes. He tried the line, and the tune seemed to collapse in the air.

"The MacDonalds will hear us," he grumbled. "We will lead them right to the cattle."

"If anyone passes by the loch in this fog, they will think this isle is haunted and they will run quickly," she said.

"Hah. They will imagine some frightening beast if they hear me sing. But Callum's snores will drown us both out, I think."

She smiled and shook her head. "Listen, and then I want you to sing with me. And sit straighter. Let the breath be open. Then match your notes to mine, only much lower. You can."

He grunted, and she sang, and repeated the line. After an awkward beginning, he hit one strong note, and then another. He lifted his brows in surprise.

"I told you," she said, and sang the whole verse. He went with her, up and down, hitting more sour than sweet notes, but his voice was stronger, deeper, less strained than before.

"Well, then," she said. "Now no one will think something wicked haunts this isle."

He took her hand again. "Sing, and I will listen," he said. "And if the MacDonalds come this way looking for their cattle, they will think a fairy guards it, and run the other way."

Chapter 15

`How many small fishes

Do swim the salt sea round?

Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see

Into a May morning?'

~"Proud Lady Margaret"

"Ah," said Kenneth, frowning up at the raftered ceiling, "what is sharper than a thorn?"