“Soon we will be in Scotland,” he told Luar. “I shall know every nook and valley. And the air will be bitter cold with frost and snow, until spring sunshine turns the glen green and bright with blossom.”
Luar’s ears flickered back and forth as she listened obligingly to his nonsense.
“Once we are over the border, I will find friends in the lowlands,” he promised her. “’Twill not be long until we have the men and provisions we need to recover what is ours.”
He recalled Morwenna’s words to him, in the stable yard at Wolvesley. She had warned him against denying himself happiness.
Is happiness within my reach?
Nay, he decided. Not without Isabella. But he would have a life of purpose. A life which saw peace and prosperity return to Greenock, for the good of all.
Isabella’s sacrifice would not be in vain.
“Ye are tired, lass,” he said when Luar stumbled on some loose ground. “We will rest a while at the summit.”
He would rest and put his thoughts in some sort of order before travelling the short distance to Ember Hall. He had no intention of going up to the gates, he would just look upon the place and remember.
God willing, Siegfried is long gone,he thought.
God willing, Siegfried would be waiting at the village of Greenock. In less than a sennight, Hamish would bring him the good news. Greenock was theirs, once again.
He dismounted and pulled Luar’s reins over her head so he could lead her more easily. She snorted and nudged his stomach, but followed him readily enough. Hamish didn’t know why his feet were compelled to lead him forward, away from the road and toward the cliffs. He had never been here before, but somehow he sensed there was something he needed to see.
The ground dipped and Hamish found himself in a small clearing, where spears of sunlight pierced the swirling mist. Far below, he could hear waves running up and down a shingle cove. They were sheltered from the wind and an air of calm prevailed. Hamish felt quite comfortable allowing Luar to crop at the damp grass, while he meandered toward the cliffs.
But after a few paces, he stopped short, all senses on high alert, until his eyes made sense of what was before him.
At first, he thought himself the subject of an ambush, for several men seemed to rear up out of the mist. Next, his mind briefly considered the possibility that he had inadvertently wandered amongst the faerie folk, for some of these ethereal beings stood no higher than his hips. But when none of themmoved for several seconds, he realized that they were, in fact, made of stone.
“Standing stones,” he said, rotating in a slow circle so he could examine the tall, rectangular stones individually.
Each had a different shape, but together they formed an almost magical whole. He fancied the air felt different here, as if it shimmered with energy which snapped and fizzled between the ancient stones. It could be a place for ritual and witchcraft, but Hamish was not afraid. In truth, he felt more settled and relaxed than he had in many months.
Luar swung her head toward him, her ears sharply pricked. At the same time, Hamish also became aware of someone approaching. Out of long habit, his hand went to where his sword should be and once again, it came away empty.
There was no time to duck behind a stone. But as the mist slowly cleared, Hamish discovered he had no need to hide. Forsooth, he must be dreaming or delirious, for the person walking toward him was none other than Isabella.
She wore a heavy fur cloak and balanced something long and thin across the palms of her hands, like an offering for the Gods.
Hamish gulped. “Is it really you?”
The woman stopped and smiled, and the last of his doubts burned away like. “I could ask the very same question.”
“Isabella.” He wondered, belatedly, if saying her name might cause this wondrous vision to fade. But she only stepped closer. His eyes widened as he realized what she was carrying.
“I bring you a gift from my brother Tristan.” She held his gaze. “Your sword.”
He could hardly believe it. His sword had been a part of him for many years and its worth far exceeded that of a mere weapon. He reached out his hand and grasped the hilt, recognizing immediately the familiar feel and weight.
“Thank you.” Words were inadequate. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “How can this be?”
“Tristan sends it by way of an apology. He should ne’er have banished you from Wolvesley Castle.” Isabella folded her hands behind her back and gazed around at the stones. “I have not been up here for years, but my sister Frida loved these stones. ’Tis a fitting place for us to find one another, is it not?”
Hamish felt his reason slipping away. “How did ye ken I would be here?”
“I had a vision.” She met his eye and laughed like a pealing of bells, which was both delightful and startling after the long hours of fog and near silence. “I speak in jest, Hamish. Although my mother had a strong notion you would travel by Ember Hall, which could be described as a vision of sorts. But ’Twas the lookouts that saw you and Luar arrive at the stones just now.”
He sheathed his sword, still shaking his head in wonderment. He wanted to take her into his arms, but there was still too much he didn’t understand.
