The woman’s pale face shone as white as the cream pooling on the sill. Tendrils of her thin blonde hair plastered to her skin drenched with sweat. Spread-eagled on the pallet, her swollen body looked ready to explode.
With a sense of surprise, Ciara realized Faolan stood just behind her. The rest of the MacKay men had hurried back outside. Even the woman’s husband had retreated from the room when Ciara had entered to see if she could help. Ciara’s heart went out to the man; his wife’s suffering had nearly driven him over the edge.
Ciara scooped the woman’s icy hand up into her own and tried soothing her with a smile. “Let go,” she whispered. “It will make it so much easier for your soul to move on if you will just turn loose of your fear and all this pain.”
“No!” Faolan shouted as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Dinna give up. Ye must fight the damn Angel of Death. Fight for the life of your child and for your own survival.”
“My laird, forgive me. But I am so weary of the pain. And this life—it is so verra hard.” The woman swallowed hard, her dried lips cracking open to bleed before she managed to whisper, “And I fear my bairn has already died. The babe has no’ moved in quite a while.”
“Save her,” Faolan hissed into Ciara’s face. “If ye ever expect me to turn back to the Ways, then show me they are of some use in this miserable life.”
Ciara turned to glance once more into the corner where Death stood watch. She arched a brow in silent question. Death declined with a single shake of his head.
“It is her time, Faolan. She has arrived at the end of this path and now it is time for her to travel to the next.” Ciara’s heart wrenched at the pain reflected in Faolan’s eyes. She knew he still dwelled on all he had lost, still relived all that he had suffered.
“But the bairn,” he whispered, hoarse with desperation. “The child never had a chance. How can ye sit there and tell me that death is the destiny for this child.”
“Please.” The woman choked out in a coughing whisper as tears streamed down the sides of her face. “Please end this for me. I do not know how to let go. I don’t know what to do.” With a trembling hand, she clawed at Faolan’s plaid and pleaded, “Listen to your wife’s words. I see Death awaitin’ over in the corner. He has been here for a while. I’m no’ afraid to follow him anymore. He seems quite kind, and he shall take me away from the bitter harshness of this life.”
Letting her hand rest on his, Ciara tried her best to calm Faolan with her touch. “Open your senses, Faolan. Stop thinking about death as what has been taken away from you and look at it as a doorway to another existence. You saw your family. You know they’re happy and safe even though they might not be with you. Open your heart. You know once you travel through the Veils, you will see them again. Once you cast this physical body aside, you are capable of so many things.”
“Show me this Death,” Faolan growled, jumping to his feet and unsheathing his sword. “I have a great deal to say to him about all he has stolen from me in this life.”
With a wave of her hand, Ciara removed the glamour shielding Death from Faolan’s eyes. “He is right there. But be respectful, Faolan. He is slow to anger but the darkest times of mortal man’s history are when his patience has run thin.”
As Death’s cloaked form shimmered and became visible, Faolan rushed at the specter with his sword. Death opened his arms, his shadowed face expressionless as Faolan ran him through.
Faolan yelled the MacKay battle cry, turned and slashed, ripping his claymore across Death’s throat. Nothing happened. The blade passed right through as though Death wasn’t there. His sword clenched in both hands, Faolan gave a mighty grunt as he sliced down the middle of Death’s tall, cloaked form. This time Death merely shook his cloaked head, his form completely untouched. The specter stood silent, while the angry man stirred his essence with his sword.
When Faolan had exhausted himself and stood doubled over and panting. Death finally spoke, his voice rich and deep as a melodious chord echoing through all eternity. “Faolan, let me show ye what would happen if I didna exist. Let me share with ye what happened one time in history when I paused for a brief moment in my gathering of the souls. Open your mind and ye shall see that I am truly mortal man’s dearest friend.”
Faolan’s mind filled with the vision of a battlefield covered with bloody and broken bodies. The injured lay moaning, their cries only heard by the great birds circling overhead. He watched as the men suffered, writhing in pain as the birds landed to rip away at their flesh. He cringed, the bile burning in his throat as he saw them ripped open and eaten alive. Sinew and muscle torn from their bones, eyes plucked from sockets. Pain-filled shrieks mixed with excited caws of the birds as the men’s bodies were sliced and torn with razor sharp beaks and claws.
Although he couldn’t understand their language, somehow, he knew the men pleaded for Death to come. Their screams and moans rose from the battlefield until the clouds parted and Death appeared. The cries of the warriors reached a fevered pitch. However, this time their voices were filled with hope. They knew their relief had finally arrived. Soon, their pain and suffering would end.
With a wave of his pale hand, their bodies released their souls. They flocked to embrace Death; their thankfulness clear in their shining new forms. They followed Death as he led the way back through the clouds, away from the suffering and pain.
As he withdrew his vision from Faolan’s mind, Death extended a pale hand toward the woman where she lay upon the floor. “This woman has suffered her entire life and the child within her is physically deformed. This is the wrong century for this child to be saddled with such a frailty. If this child stays upon this plane with such a condition, it will know nothing but sorrow and cruelty from the harshness of this time. I will lead their souls to another place. I will deliver them from this reality. Granted, those left behind will truly miss them. But aren’t they being selfish to insist these two remain in this life to suffer more unspeakable pain?”
Faolan grew quite still as his gaze settled on Ciara’s watchful face. With a stiff nod, he rasped out his reply, “It would indeed be selfish to keep them suffering. ’Twould be more loving to bid them farewell and safe journey.”
Holding out her hand, Ciara drew him down beside her and cradled his head to her breast. “Now you understand. I promise it is going to be all right, Faolan. You have to let go of the pain.”
Faolan raised his head, his jaw clenched, as he rose to his feet. With a nod to the moaning woman on the pallet, he asked, “What do ye need me to do to help her on her way?”
“Go outside, Faolan,” Ciara whispered. “Leave her with us. We will help her begin her final journey.”
Faolan nodded once and turned to go, pausing at the doorway. “I shall go prepare her husband and try to console him on the loss of his wife and child.”
* * *
Gads,the sound ripped out his heart. He wanted to throw back his head and howl. The mournful cry of the pipes echoed across the hills as they gathered around the small burial cairn. Angus played the fairest song he knew in honor of the mother and her child. The weary woman had released her soul with the rising of the sun. Ciara told him she had smiled when she’d cradled her child in her arms and walked with Death through the Veil. But Faolan didn’t know what the hell to believe.
“Ye shall come with us to the Village Morag. ’Tis our final stop on this journey.” Faolan cleared his throat against the knot of emotions burning in his chest.
The woman’s husband gave a slight nod of his head, exhaustion, and grief etched deep lines across his face. “There’s nay reason for me to stay in this place. I shall pack what little I have and be ready within the hour.”
Faolan stood with Ciara and watched the poor man stumble away, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped as he wandered away from the grave.
