The Inscription (18 page)

Lachlan rested his hands on the table. “They have returned from the New World with disturbing news. If our race is to survive, there must be children. If not, we will become like the mists of the Highlands; having neither substance nor soul. Or we can open the books of the ancients, reexamine what has been kept hidden, and begin again.”

Angus’ voice rose above the loud rumblings of conversation. “The ancients had their reasons for keeping certain truths from all but the Council of Seven.”

Lachlan looked out over the sea of faces. They believed he would be wise enough to make decisions for them and that as long as the ancients’ laws were not altered, all would be well. His race could live to see the great, great grandchildren of the kings and queens they fought for rise to power, yet they resisted change. If he was to succeed in saving his people, he must use patience.

He motioned to Artemis and Theseus. “Please tell of the outcome of your search for our people in the New World.”

Lachlan returned to his own thoughts as the Spaniards told their tale. His people believed they could defeat Subedei as they had before. Lachlan did not agree. His enemy’s bloodlust ran deep. They could not easily defeat a man who lived only in order to kill.

However, the matter of perpetuating the race needed to be addressed. Hopefully the report the twins gave would dispel the illusion that there were immortals enough to continue the race.

He heard and felt the rise in the level of conversation as his people responded to the report. Lachlan would wait for the tempers and frustrations to run their course before he called them back to order. It was a bitter drink to swallow that a few must give up their immortality, for the sake of the greater good. He stood once more, waiting for the swell of emotions to subside.

“It accomplishes nothing to condemn or seek revenge on those in the New World who may have brutally murdered our kind. The decision we face is: in what direction do we continue? Without children, our kind will perish. I propose we look into our hearts. If one of us should choose a mate who is not of our race, but mortal, I ask you to consider the match worthy. The ancients claimed that a union with a mortal would not produce children of our kind. I believe we must test that theory.”

Every bone in, Marcail’s body ached as she willed her feet toward her chamber. She had not felt this weary since her days tending the sick during the great plague that swept Europe in the fourteenth century. Lachlan was to be admired for his courageous proposal. Although many raised a voice in protest, she knew they would consider his words. Her race grew weary, as did she, of the confining rules which dictated who would be worthy and who would not. It had made her wish for the courage to declare a desire to wed a mortal man.

Lachlan had not expected her to ask permission to enter into a joining ceremony. The expression on his face told her that. But once she had made her decision, die matter was settled. The council was reluctant at first. She had served over three hundred years and when she married a replacement for her position on the Council would have to be found. That, however, was a small price to pay for their race’s continuance. They had made suggestions for a mate. She had, however, already made her selection.

She pushed the door to her chamber open and leaned against the wall. The tapers had burned down low; the night air cooled the room. O’Donnell rested quietly on the bed. The Lady Amber was asleep. All was as it should be.

A dog barked. Marcail looked down the dimly lit hallway and saw MacDougal, the wolfhound, race toward her with Gavin close behind. The animal trotted in, sniffed the ground, her shoes, and then went over to the foot of the bed where he settled down and rested his head on his paws. Gavin stared at her, his eyes wide. He squared his shoulders and tightened die line of his mouth.

Marcail knew this child was wary of her and knew well the reason. She avoided all those who tried to come too near. In her self-imposed isolation, she had become abrupt and distant. However, for all that he must be feeling, he struggled to conquer the emotion. She admired the lad’s strength of will. With Lachlan’s advice to guide him, he would grow into a worthy man. But for now, he was still just a child and must be taught. There were certain expectations when someone was recovering from an injury, even if that person be immortal.

“That vermin-infested animal has no place in this chamber.”

Gavin met her gaze. “MacDougal belongs to me. He bathes more often than anyone in the castle.”

The barrier around her heart weakened. This lad stood his ground in defense of his dog. She walked over and stroked the fur on MacDougal’s head. His coat was indeed well cared for. She looked over at Gavin. “And are you as clean?”

Gavin folded his arms across his chest in a gesture that reminded her of Lachlan. “MacDougal and I bathe together. The Lady Amber says washing will help prevent me from getting side MacDougal as well“

Curious. The woman’s views were not common in this part of the world. This theme kept playing over and over, just under the surface, as though it held hidden meaning.
It is she who will bring the knowledge and the courage of generations yet unborn
.

She would not think on it tonight, there were other matters more pressing. She noticed that the young woman slept as soundly as O’Donnell through all the commotion. Marcail understood the level of exhaustion that would allow a person to sleep through any sound. She had often been able to rest in a protected shelter while a battle raged around her. She picked up the book that had dropped to the floor at the Lady Amber’s feet and shook her gently on the shoulder.

Amber stretched and opened her eyes. She looked toward the bed. “Is O’Donnell all right?”

“He is indeed. You have done a great service by reading to him this night, but you have missed the meal in the Great Hall. I have told Una to send food to your chamber.”

“Thank you.” Amber yawned. “Gavin, what are you doing up so late?”

The boy motioned to O’Donnell. “I wanted to help Marcail read to him. I think he will like the ”Knight’s Tale.“ Lachlan said O’Donnell is…” Gavin paused and looked at Marcail.

She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and pressed lightly to caution him. “… a great warrior. Is that not correct?”

He nodded slowly. “Aye.”

Thank the gods, the boy realized what he was about to say.

Amber stood and kissed Gavin on the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re here to help Marcail read. She looks as tired as I feel.”

Gavin’s face glowed with pride. “I shall read the ‘Knight’s Tale.’ I have been practicing.”

Marcail watched Amber smile before she turned and left the chamber. In a few words Amber had managed to let Gavin know his importance to her. The boy was beaming with pride. Marcail had been on this earth for hundreds of years and thought she knew all there was of life to learn. It was time she began to show Gavin the love she felt for him. It would not make him weak, but give him confidence. She hoped now, more than ever, the test Angus planned would prove Amber immortal. Their race could be only the richer for Amber’s contributions.

She felt Gavin tug on her sleeve. Marcail walked over to the bench by the window and patted a place next to her. “Would you like to begin the story?”

“Aye.” His voice was eager and his eyes lit up as though she had offered a sweet rather than a book for his enjoyment. He indicated O’Donnell. “Can he hear us?”

She smiled. “We shall have to ask him when he awakes.”

Gavin snuggled against her. She put her arm around him and pulled him close. Her heart warmed. She had forgotten the forgiving nature of children. In Lachlan’s correspondence he had described Gavin as a child who hated to learn, and would rather spend his day practicing with sword and ax than in a classroom. She knew well Bartholomew’s failure to teach the lad. Yet Amber had unlocked the scholar hidden within. An intelligent mind could be nurtured and taught the skills necessary to survive. Yes, she would be most curious as to the outcome of Angus’ test.

The inner courtyard was bathed in sunlight as Lachlan removed his shirt and tightened his plaid around his waist. His men were putting away their weapons. He dismissed the notion that they were lazy and reminded himself they were able warriors. Yet he found the further he tested his physical endurance, the more alive he felt. He took a breath of the sweet-smelling autumn air and swung his sword above his head. Over the past year he had increased the length of each day’s training. Once more he needed to have a heavier blade forged. He heard the familiar sound of a weapon being pulled from its scabbard and turned to see Angus.

His friend lunged toward him. “I knew I would find you here.”

Lachlan deflected the thrust. The force rang along the blade and through his hands. He smiled. Angus was a worthy opponent. “You are late this morning.”

Angus sidestepped Lachlan’s counterattack. “Marcail and I were trying to discover the mystery that surrounds Lady Amber.” He nodded in the direction of the entrance near the cookroom.

Lachlan saw Amber sitting on a bench reading to Gavin. He paused, his concentration temporarily broken. The afternoon sun seemed to focus all its light in her hair. How long had she been sitting nearby? He felt a sudden burning sensation on his arm and looked down. Angus had cut him with his blade. Droplets of blood formed over the wound. He had allowed himself to be distracted. He lunged forward.

Angus blocked the attack. “Amber is a pleasant diversion, but there is a strangeness that lingers around her.“

His friend was indeed close to the truth. He made contact with Angus’ blade and drove him back. “You and I shall outlive most men one hundred times over, and yet you call her strange? She has been under our protection these past few weeks. Why the sudden need to discover her origins?”

“Have you considered that she might be immortal?”

Lachlan’s pulse quickened. “It is unlikely.” He held his sword out before him.

Angus attacked. “Do you never tire of fighting?”

Blade struck blade, the clamor ringing off the walls of the courtyard as the force of the blows resounded through Lachlan’s grip. He knocked the sword out of Angus’ hand and it clattered to the ground. “I do not see the need to refute my love of battle.”

His friend reached down and retrieved his weapon. “You more than love battle, Lachlan, you need it. Take care you fill your life with more than a hunger for the fight. There has not been a time when I would choose my blade over the smile of a lass.”

Lachlan tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and looked across at Amber. “You make the choice sound simple. It is not.” He sheathed his blade. “She is unlike other women.”

“Aye, on that we are agreed. Our own are treated as equals and she behaves as though she were raised in the same manner. It is not hard to see she is as well-educated and outspoken as any man. The perfect companion for one of us. But maybe too perfect. Is that why you are afraid to discover her origins?”

“I fear only that I shall be drawn into your wild plans.”

Angus raised an eyebrow. “Marcail says O’Donnell’s wounds are healing without a scar. The test would be a simple one, with little bloodshed.”

“I do not want her harmed.” Lachlan felt the anger well inside him. He let his eyes linger on her, feeling a protectiveness surge through his blood. “She is not immortal. You have my word.”

“How can you be so convinced? The depth of her knowledge and self-confidence are uncommon qualities in mortal women. What other explanation could there be?”

“Question her if you are so determined, but upon your life, harm her not.”

A rider entered the courtyard and Lachlan turned toward him, welcoming the distraction. Dust swirled around the horse’s hooves as the man brought his animal to an abrupt halt. He shouted to Lachlan as he dismounted.

“The Campbells have again raided your cattle.”

The rider’s arrival was timely. Lachlan relished the challenge. “How many are missing?”

“Ten, maybe more.”

A sudden scream pierced the air. Lachlan turned abruptly to see Amber and Gavin sprawled on the ground. He caught the glint of metal as Angus stood and brushed off his tartan.

Lachlan covered the distance, pushed Angus aside and helped first Amber and then his brother to their feet. She was holding tight to her hand. Blood oozed through her fingers.

Gavin paced back and forth in nervous concern. Amber turned to him. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Lachlan felt an instant surge of anger and let it build unchecked until he could hear it thunder through him.

Angus adjusted his sword. “I am sorry, lass. I stumbled.”

Lachlan grabbed Angus around the throat. The words tore through him as he shouted each one. “She is cut.”

Amber tore cloth from her undergarment and awkwardly wrapped the wound. “It was an accident.”

“By the gods, it was no accident.” Lachlan doubled up his fist and hit Angus in the face. The man crumbled to the ground. “That, too, was an accident. I meant to break his neck.”

Amber put her bandaged hand on Lachlan’s arm and the contact was like cool water over heated skin. It brought him out of the haze that held him in its grasp. The words of the legend of the Lady of the Loch rolled through his mind like the mist over Loch Ness. She could not have the power to turn him from the fate that had taken his father and now consumed Subedei. Surely, nothing could. Even his mother had tried and failed.

Her fingers pressed his arm. “Excuse me, but I’m bleeding here. You and Angus can fight over whether or not it was an accident later. I’ll need stitches, and I’m assuming I’ll have to find something vile to use, and that it will hurt a lot.” She motioned to Gavin to gather their books.

Lachlan addressed his brother. “See to Angus and have Una tend him. She still has not forgiven him for eating all her pies when first he arrived. I shall seek out Marcail to look after the Lady Amber.” He picked her up in his arms. She flinched when her injured hand brushed against him.

The extent of her pain pierced through him like a blade. He pulled her gently to him, suppressing the anger he felt toward Angus as he walked into the castle. It was a new sensation for him to be able to temper his rage. He wondered if it was Amber’s doing. But even legends contained flaws. He doubted his reprieve from madness would be permanent. Perhaps, if he could not escape his father’s destiny, he could delay its inevitable progress.