He frowned, his patience slipping. “Because it isnae safe, I canna leave ye to the mercy of the elements or worse.”
“Ah, there it is!” she said, breaking into another smile. “That core of nobility ye try so hard to hide. But ye canna hide it from me, Oskar Galbraith, no matter how much ye try.”
Oskar blinked at her, surprised. “How do ye know my name?”
She rolled her eyes as if he’d said something stupid. “Because I’ve been waiting for ye, that’s why!”
“Waiting for me? But ye said ye aren’t the healer.”
“I’m not. At least, not in the sense ye mean.” She stepped closer and gazed up at him. Her eyes were so dark they were like depthless pools. A shiver of unease went through Oskar. She suddenly didn’t seem like a dotty old woman any more.
“Who are ye?” he whispered.
“My name is Irene,” she replied. “Irene MacAskill.”
He gasped and staggered back.
“Ah!” she said, curling an amused eyebrow. “I see ye’ve heard of me.”
Heard of her? Oh yes, he’d heard of her. Both his commander, Kai Stewart, and his sword-brother, Conall Sinclair, had met this woman and they’d told Oskar all about her. They’d met her in similar circumstances to the ones he found himself in—alone and miles from any help—and after they’d met her, their lives had been turned upside down.
He licked his lips nervously. His hand twitched towards his sword hilt, but he knew that drawing it would do no good. Kai and Conall had also told him this woman’s real nature. She might like to appear like a doddering oldster, but she was most definitely not. A word whispered through his mind like a warning.
Fae.
“What do ye want with me?” he asked hoarsely.
She stepped closer and it took all of his courage not to back away. He was Oskar Galbraith, master-swordsman and elitewarrior of the Order of the Osprey, curse it! He’d be damned if he would let himself be intimidated by a tiny old woman, Fae or no!
“I?” she said. “I want nothing from ye, Oskar Galbraith. But I have something to offer ye.”
He narrowed his eyes, suspicion gnawing at him. “What could ye possibly have to offer me? And why should I trust a Fae?”
She didn’t answer his question. “I have watched ye from afar,” Irene said softly. “Yer bravery, yer skill with the sword, yer unwavering loyalty to yer comrades. Ye have served the Balance well. And yet, it hasnae brought ye what ye seek, has it?”
“What do ye know of what I seek?”
Irene tilted her head, her expression filled with understanding. “I know that ye yearn for something ye canna find. What ye seek canna be found in battles and bloodshed.” She stepped closer still. “But now ye have a chance, my boy. Someone will come who will show ye the way to what ye truly seek, if ye have the courage to open yer eyes and confront it.”
“What do ye mean?” Her words unsettled him, caught him off balance, and he resorted to his usual angry defense. “Yer words make no sense, woman!”
Irene chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming in the afternoon light. “Ah, the impatience of youth. Always questioning, never willing to listen.” She reached out and gently placed her hand on Oskar’s arm.
Oskar tried to pull away, but her grip tightened ever so slightly. He could feel a strange energy emanating from her touch.
“Oskar Galbraith,” she said. “Ye are on the precipice of a choice that will shape yer destiny. Ye have dedicated yer life to being a warrior, but now perhaps it is time for a different battle, one harder than any ye’ve yet faced.”
“I don’t need yer cryptic riddles,” he declared, his voice tinged with frustration. “Now kindly unhand me and let me be on my way.”
She released his arm, stepping back with a strange smile on her face. “Very well, my boy. Ye choose. But know this—the road ye enter may lead to darkness or greatness. Choose wisely.”
Growling under his breath, he turned his back on the strange old woman and strode over to the horse. If she thought he was going to listen to her nonsense, she had another think coming. He knew who he was. He knew the path he’d chosen. He didn’t need some interfering old crone telling him otherwise.
He reached the horse, placed one hand on the saddle ready to mount, but then whirled around.
“What choice? What do ye mean?”
But Irene was gone. He turned in all directions, scanning the landscape for any sign of her but there was only himself, the horse and the brown, wintry countryside.
