Page 82 of The Daughters of Avalon
It was near dusk, when a messenger finally arrived—a boy, no older than Wee Davie. For a terrifying instant, that’s who Malcom thought it must be as the boy ran stumbling across a fallow field. He stood below the gates, and Malcom had a sudden vision of himself at six, watching from the bailey side as FitzSimon bargained with his father. Only this time, it was Malcom on the parapet as the boy—a fair-haired child Malcom recognized from one of the farms—shouted up at him, puffing his chest with pride.
“My lord Aldergh,” he announced, between breaths. “In the name of our king… you must surrender.”
That was it. No opportunity for Malcom’s side to be heard. No recommendation for a meeting. Eleven years of service gone in a blaze of smoke.
Black, hot fury shot through Malcom’s veins—anger unlike anything he’d experienced in his life.
At the instant, he sorely regretted sending his cousin away. At least then, he might have had the backing of his kinsmen. Now, he was alone, floundering in a sea of cottongrass and heather. But come what may, he would never give up his bride.By God,she’dsent one of Malcom’s own men into his home to harm Elspeth—her own flesh and blood.
Malcom had little comprehension over what that woman must have done to mild-mannered Daw, or how she’d forced his hand, but if she wanted an answer, Malcom knew precisely what to give her.
He ordered one of his men forward, whispering into the man’s ear. The man rushed away to do Malcom’s bidding. Only then did he step forward to address the child.
“I’ll gi’ ye my answer, lad—as a gift for the lady Morwen.”
The boy nodded eagerly, awaiting his charge—and this too, infuriated Malcom. It was inconceivable that any man should use a boy so rudely. Thankfully, he took comfort in that no honorable man would ever harm an innocent child. The rules of engagement commanded a messenger’s safe passage.
Once up on the ramparts,Elspeth approached her husband with trepidation. Making herself as invisible as possible so as not to distract him.
The gates creaked open, and the portcullis rose barely high enough to push a box outside. Elspeth watched as the child came forward to take his burden, then, very innocently, peered up and waved before hurrying away.
No doubt, he felt important today—a messenger for his king and his lord.
Along with the rest of the men at arms, Elspeth watched with bated breath as the boy ran the long distance to the king’s camp—about four hundred meters—during which time the silence on the ramparts grew thick enough to cut with a blade. What must have been minutes felt like an eternity.
And then, suddenly, before anyone could wonder over the king’s response, the child came rushing back, only this time,there was terror in his gait. Whatever they’d said to him must have frightened him because he ran fast and faster, all the while those smoke clouds on the horizon began to roil, moving closer, swirling, closing in. Elspeth watched the advance with a growing sense of trepidation…
Only once the child was halfway across the field, the cloud formation dove on him, and suddenly Elspeth knew—too late for the boy. He dove to the ground, throwing up his hands to cover his ears and head. Alas, they could hear his screams of agony from whence they stood.
“What in God’s name is that?” asked one of the men at arms.
“Ravens,” whispered Elspeth.
By the thousands, they came swooping in, the sound of their rushing black wings like a raging wind, and their squawks inspiring terror.
Something terrible awakened inside her, as Elspeth realized that even if they loosed every arrow in their possession, they would still be lacking.
Sprawled out in the field, the child no longer struggled. His body lay as still as Daw had been after Merry Bells was through with him. All together now, the dense cloud of birds swooped up and moved closer, closer… closer…
If only she could stop them. If only she had some means to prevent them from coming inside the castel walls… if only…
Tell her… she must raise her hand… and believe.
Elspeth blinked, suddenly understanding.
Believe,she thought she heard Rhiannon say.Believe.
Only fearing the consequences of revealing herself, Elspeth hesitated, looking first at Malcom, begging with her eyes, and somehow, somehow, he must have sensed her regard and he slowly turned and gave her a nod.
Believe.
Elspeth had never considered attempting such a feat. She had never imagined any time when she should have to try. But if she did this… if she did this… there could be no doubt aboutwhatorwhoshe was after she was done. She was a witch. Adewine. A sorceress.
So be it.
Come what may—if they should hang her from the ramparts for this spell, it still must be done. She felt a surge of power rise up from parts unknown, tingling her skin, rising, rising, until she was a burst of energy, ready to ignite. And then suddenly, she had a terrifying sense of blinding white as she splayed a hand and whispered over the incoming roar.
By the power of earth, fire, air and water, my Goddess, I beg thee protection.
