Though his fury had abated, he had not forgiven Donal that blow to the back of his head. The Seer’s words made him wonder if the next time Donal called for men to fight MacKyrie’s battles, would Jamie be among them?
Was that what the Seer meant?
He kicked his mount into motion and headed for home. Perhaps he would find answers there.
2
SCOTLAND, SEPTEMBER 1537
From his position on the Aerie’s wall walk, Jamie Lathan spotted a swirl in the morning’s heavy mist filling the glen below. It moved closer, then lifted onto the long path up the tor to the Aerie. The mist thinned and revealed a galloping horse, its rider bent low, clinging to its mane. As it neared the Aerie’s gate, he recognized the rider. Rabbie! Alone? Where were Niall and Fearchar?
“Open the gate! Lathan rider!”
Jamie ran from the wall walk down the steps to the bailey just before Rabbie burst through, the gate open just wide enough for his horse. He pulled hard on the reins, his mount’s hooves kicking up dirt as it struggled to stop at the keep’s doorway.
Rabbie leapt from the blowing horse to crumple in front of Jamie’s mother, Aileanna, the Lathan healer. She’d come out just as Jamie’s call rang through the bailey, and waited on the threshold steps.
Jamie reached them in time to lift Rabbie from the dirt where he lay panting and trying to force out words between gasping breaths. Rabbie grasped his hand and Jamie’s chest immediately tightened. He pulled his hand free, and Rabbie bent forward, hands on knees.
Despite his mother's pleas, Jamie had not used his talent since leaving MacKyrie eighteen months ago, choosing, as he'd vowed, to train at arms. Yet, he knew Rabbie had suffered gasping attacks as a child and might not regain his breath quickly on his own. “Are ye injured?” Jamie lifted a hand to touch him again, a habit he’d fought to break, but stopped when Rabbie shook his head.
Rabbie lifted his head to fix his gaze firmly on Aileanna. “Need ye,” he managed to wheeze out. “Niall will lose his leg.” He sucked in air, then added, “Or his life… if ye dinna come.”
Aileanna descended the three stone steps to the bailey, put a hand to the back of Rabbie’s neck and closed her eyes for a moment. “Better now?” When he straightened, she stepped away, her narrowed gaze resting on Jamie for a moment, her displeasure evident that Jamie had not used his ability to help their kinsman. Then she turned back to Rabbie. “Tell us what happened.”
Rabbie’s chest rose on a deep breath, then, eyes wide, he gave her a nod of thanks. “The daftest thing,” he told her, then took a few more deep breaths. He shifted his gaze from her to Jamie. “We were coming back from Dundee with a day’s ride behind us. The trail was good enough, but ’twas getting on toward sunset. Fearchar and I jumped a wee rill first, then he. His horse stumbled on landing and threw him into a downed tree.”
Aileanna frowned. “How bad?”
Jamie knew she was thinking of all the ways someone could be harmed in such a fall. He was, too.
“A branch pierced his calf all the way through and broke off,” Rabbie continued. “I’ve seen arrow wounds like it, but doubted the branch was as smooth as an arrow’s shaft. I feared removing it. He bled little with it in place, so I thought we could make it home in two days hard riding.”
“Possibly,” Aileanna said, giving him time to draw another breath.
“Even in pain, he could ride, so we continued into the night until I saw him slump over his mount. By then we were near a keep—a minor branch of clan Keith, as it be—so we begged their hospitality and the help of their healer. He was feverish. She removed the wood, cleaned his calf as best she could and got the bleeding stopped, but feared the wound would fester.” His shoulders dropped, as did his gaze. “It did.” He looked up again at Aileanna. “By yestereve, she’d done all she kens to do.Thrice.I rode as hard as I could through the night, to fetch ye. Fearchar remains by his side. Ye will come, aye?”
Aileanna turned her gaze to her son. “I canna. Marcail’s time is near, and this babe will kill her without me. I’ve no one else to send. Jamie, lad, ye must go.”
Jamie frowned at her. She knew what she was asking.
His father had fought to keep his mother from being accused as a witch when she first came to them. If strangers discovered he, a man, had the same talent, he could lose his life. The King hunted witches with great fervor. Jamie had no interest in being burned at the stake or dunked in a loch until he drowned.
Yet, here was an opportunity to strike out on his own. He’d proven himself a fierce warrior, yet his mother still wanted to treat him as her apprentice. They’d fought many times since he'd returned from MacKyrie over what she called his stubbornness, but he’d held to his vow and used only methods any village healer could use. Saving Niall, in his own way, he could prove himself as capable as she, especially if he could do it without using the talent they shared.
“What else did the Keith healer tell ye?”
“His fever continues to rise, and the area around the wound is turning black, and she fears whatever caused it is in his blood. He’s in a lot of pain.”
Aileanna gasped and met Jamie’s concerned gaze with her own. “Oh, my son. I dinna wish to expose ye…”
“That may no’ be necessary,” he insisted. He hoped Niall’s condition wasn’t as dire as Rabbie made it sound, or Jamie would have no way to save him except to break his vow.
“’Twill be,” Rabbie interjected. He’d benefitted from Aileanna’s talent in the past. He was fully aware of what they could do—and what Jamie chose not to do. “And it may already be too late. We’ll never ken if we dinna return now.”
“Ye have seen similar injuries in battle,” Aileanna reminded Jamie. “Ye ken ’twill be needed if ye hope to save his life.”
“I’ve seen penetrating injuries like his, aye, though soon enough after they happened, they were no’ as bad as Rabbie describes.” Jamie’s stomach turned as he pictured what he would have to endure.
