Page 66 of Treachery in the Highlands
As my sight clears, I notice the worried looks on Joey and Father's faces.Mother and the aunts rush forward to fuss over me, but I dinnae need to be fussed about.I'm not ill.But still, I give them a reassuring smile.
"We'll be all right," I say, trying to convince myself as much as them."We just need to stay alert and stick together."
"Absolutely," Joey agrees."No wandering off alone, no accepting food from strangers, and definitely no getting into drinking contests with rival clansmen."
Father grunts in approval."Aye, that's sound advice.And keep yer wits about ye.There'll be more than swords and dirks to watch out for at this gathering."
As we continue our journey, the forest gradually thins, giving way to rolling hills dotted with heather.A wee bit further away, the dark waters of Loch Fairbairn spread far and wide.In the distance, I can see smoke rising from multiple campfires, and the faint sound of bagpipes drifts on the breeze.The clan gathering is nearly upon us.
Joey whistles softly."Wow, this is quite the turnout.How many clans do you think are here?It reminds me of an outdoor rock festival I went to back in high school."
"At least a dozen clans have gathered here," I reply, scanning the colorful array of tartans in the distance."Mayhap more.It's been years since we've had a gathering this large."
"Aye, and that's what worries me," the laird says."The more clans, the more potential for conflict."Father gives Joey a baffled look."Pit air iteig!What is an outdoor rock festival?"
"Explainpit air iteigto me, and I'll explain rock festivals to you."
"'Tis a fair exchange.The Gaelic phrase means 'flying vagina,' a common, if not polite, oath."Father tilts his head to the side."A rock festival involves men hurling boulders, I presume."
Joey tries not to laugh but winds up snorting loudly."Uh, not quite, Kieran.A rock festival is a gathering where people sit or stand outdoors and listen to music.Loud music.And the instruments are electric guitars, electric keyboards, and other stuff like that."
Father's expression has gone blank."I...see."
But clearly, he doesn't.I do, but only because Joey described such things to me.None of that matters now, though.We have a horde of clans from all round the Highlands who might not take kindly to us if they realize we are witches.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joey
Alyssa kisses her husband's cheek."I'll explain rock concerts to you later, when we're alone in our chambers at home.Sex is the best teaching tool for you, honey.But we shouldn't talk about that during the clan gathering, hmm?"
Kieran smirks."Aye, 'tis good advice.And I greatly enjoy your sort of instruction."
As we crest the final hill, the full scope of the gathering comes into view.A sea of tents and pavilions stretches across the valley, each flying the colors and crests of their respective clans.I survey the area as we draw closer, noting the diverse array of tents on display---marquees of varying sizes, simple wall tents, wedge-shaped ones, and so much more.
In the center of the gathering, a massive bonfire roars.Long tables laden with food and drink encircle the area.The air is filled with the scent of roasting meat, wood smoke, and hundreds of bodies packed together.The cacophony of bagpipes, drums, and raucous laughter grows louder by the minute.
"Holy crap," I say under my breath, suddenly feeling small and out of place, like I had all those years ago during my foster-child days."What I'm seeing seems like Braveheart meets Coachella."
Rachel shoots me a quizzical look."Coachella?Is that some sort of American clan gathering?"
"Kinda like that," I reply, not wanting to get into the complexities of explaining modern music festivals to a medieval witch.Kieran was baffled, so Rachel probably will be too.So, I tell Rachel, "Let's just say it's a lot to take in."
As we make our way down the hill, I swear I can feel eyes turning in our direction.The chatter dims slightly, replaced by hushed whispers and pointed fingers.I try to stand a little taller, channeling some of Kieran's intimidating presence.But I can't shake the feeling that I'm a walking anachronism, a neon sign flashing "NOT FROM THIS TIMELINE" in bold letters.
Rachel squeezes my hand reassuringly."Don't worry.Stay close to me and follow my lead.Remember, you are a MacTaggart now, in spirit if not in name.Hold your head high."
"Thanks, baby.That's good advice."
As we approach the outskirts of the gathering, a group of burly men in kilts steps forward to greet us.Their leader, a giant of a man with a fiery red beard, breaks into a wide grin.
"Kieran MacTaggart!"he booms, his voice carrying across the field."Ye've finally decided to grace us with yer presence, ye greatbuamastair!"
"Ye dare call me a dolt?"Kieran's stern facade cracks, and he embraces the man with a hearty laugh."Angus Campbell, ye overgrown ginger root!I see ye've managed to drag yerself away from the ale tent long enough to greet us properly."
I whisper into Rachel's ear, "What's a boo-muh-stead?"
"A dolt," she explains, speaking in a hushed tone."In this case, 'tis a friendly insult."
