Page 141 of A Legacy of the Light

As we put more distance between us and the palace, the rage in my chest settles and the steady motion of the beautiful mare underneath me calms my racing mind.

I slow Mabel down as we near an embankment along the shore, where large logs are strewn around a makeshift camp.

It’s not been used in a while, judging by the lack of wood in the center of the small stone wall erected for the fire.

Dismounting Mabel, I secure her to a low-hanging branch, then dust the snow off the end of one of the logs nearest the water’s edge. I sit with a sigh, glad of the cloak Fraser gave to me.

The water brushes gently against the stony shore, darkened and free from snow where the water continually laps at it. From this spot I can see the city, nestled into the mountain valley like it’s always belonged. The golden turrets of the palace glint in the sunlight and the snowfall casts the rest of the city into a strange reversal, the normally dark rooftops bright and the pale stone of the buildings dull compared to the white on the ground.

I fold my arms tightly across my chest and watch the clouds move gradually across the sky from the other side of the mountains. I watch the birds in the trees and the movement of the water in front of me. The crisp smell of the pine forest behind me and the cold bite of the winter morning provides me with exactly what I needed when I stormed away from the king.

Mabel huffs and I check to see what disturbed her. She’s been silent for the last fifteen minutes, as if sensing I needed the quiet.

She huffs again and shakes out her mane. I scan the tree line and see nothing. I don’t think Brollachan would come here. It would be too light for them based on what Tavish said.

I grip the Craobh Beatha under my shirt anyway, hoping that it will protect me if one of those creatures appears. I survey the trees for another few minutes, and once I’m satisfied there’s nothing there, I turn back to the water.

“An taghadh,” a voice whispers on the breeze.

I straighten and look around for the voice that I’m not convinced is real.

“An taghadh.”

It’s louder this time. Loud enough that I can make out the voice. It sounds like a male and female harmonizing, but muffled, as though they’re underwater.

I stand from the log and turn in a circle.

“An taghadh,” it says a third time.

“H-hello?” I whisper.

Movement on the water catches my eye.

About twenty feet from the shore, a pair of pure white eyes, floating above the lake, stare at me. Water shifts around them, taking the form of a horse peeking above the surface, the ears and top half of its face visible.

“An taghadh.” The eyes of the creature swirl like thick fog as it repeats the phrase.

“I don’t know what that means,” I murmur.

As the words leave my mouth, the creature’s whirling eyes freeze, and it moves slowly toward the shore.

I take small steps back until my calves hit the log I was sitting on, not daring to blink in case it strikes.

“Do not fear,” the voice in my head says.

The water horse moves closer, more of it forming with each step in my direction. The same sensation that swarmed around me while looking at the faceless statue wraps around me again and my breathing turns harsh.

Despite the voice in my head telling me otherwise, I’m terrified.

“It will not harm you,” the voice whispers in response.

Granny, if that’s you, please stop fucking with me, I mentally reply.

My heart trips when soft laughter sounds in my mind.

The water-horse is a few feet from shore now, fully formed and much smaller than Mabel. Its shoulder doesn’t clear my head.

Behind me, the flesh and blood version stamps her hoof on the ground and the water-horse copies her, shaking out its watery mane. Droplets ripple along the surface of the lake.