Page 8 of Treachery in the Highlands
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I'm about to do.With a quick glance 'round to ensure I'm alone, I kneel at the water's edge.My fingers tremble as I trace ancient symbols in the damp earth, whispering incantations passed down through generations of MacTaggart witches.
"Show me," I say, my voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the moat."Show me the truth behind the vision."
The water begins to swirl, slowly at first, then faster.Colors dance across its surface---flashes of silver, streaks of gold, and bursts of vibrant blue.My heart pounds as I lean closer, straining to make sense of the chaotic images.Suddenly, the swirling water stills, and the man's face reappears, clearer this time.His gaze, filled with a mix of confusion and annoyance, seems to lock onto mine.I gasp, nearly losing my balance as I tilt even closer.
"Who are you?"I wonder aloud.
As if in response, the vision expands.I see the man stumbling through a dark alley, desperate to escape from...something.He glances over his shoulder, fear etched across his face as an angry brute gives chase.
My breath catches in my throat.This isn't merely a vision of the past or present.Somehow, I'm seeing a glimpse of the future.
The scene shifts again.Now the man stands before Dùndubhan, ambling into the castle where other men and women wander about.The vision wavers, and I struggle to maintain my focus.
"Rachel!"My father's booming voice shatters my concentration.The water of the moat instantly stills, the mysterious man's face vanishing like mist in the morning sun.I scramble to my feet, hastily brushing dirt from my skirts.I have ne'er been blessed withdà-shealladhlike Great-Aunt Lachina, so I cannae understand what came over me.
"Coming,Athairich!"I shout, my voice a touch too high-pitched to be natural.
As I turn toward the castle, I see my father's imposing figure striding through the open gates and onto the drawbridge.His brow is furrowed, golden eyes narrowed with concern and a hint of suspicion.
"What mischief are ye up to now, lass?"he asks while sweeping his gaze over the moat and the disturbed earth at my feet.
I force a smile, hoping it doesn't appear as nervous as I feel."No mischief, Father.I wished for a wee bit of fresh air, that's all."
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced."Aye, and your mother is a selkie.By God's bones, Rachel.I know that look in your eye.What have ye seen?"
I hesitate, torn between my desire to confide in him and the fear that I might have imagined the incident.I think I'll wait a wee while to find out if the vision returns.It might be nothing at all.But I cannae deny that man's face intrigued me and stirred something within me that felt warm, liquid, and delicious.
Father sighs, running a hand through his graying hair."Ah, lass, why cannae ye be satisfied with the life you have?Ye constantly seek adventure, and I worry your desire for that will lead you astray."
My father turns toward the gates and begins walking, only to halt after a few paces.He glances back at me, his brows furrowed."Are ye coming, lass?"
"Not yet.I'd like to sit on the riverbank for a spell, if that's acceptable."
"As you wish,mo nighean."
He smiles and heads back inside the castle walls.
As I settle in on the riverbank with my feet dangling, I close my eyes to hear all the sounds of nature.Birds twittering.The moat splashing faintly.The warmth of the sun on my face feels lovely, and I begin to hum an old song as I picture the face of that strangely alluring man from my vision.
Every hair on my body stiffens in anticipation, and I glance 'round, watching for...something.
I swear I hear a faint echo of my own humming, as if it's bouncing back from some unseen barrier.My eyes fly open, as I inspect the area.The moat's surface has gone eerily still, like glass, reflecting the cloudy sky above.
A ripple appears in the center of the water, spreading outward in concentric circles.My breath catches in my throat as I lean forward, half-expecting to see the mysterious man's face again.Instead, the ripples grow more intense, churning the water into a frothy whirlpool.A blast of wind whips around me, tugging at my skirts and hair.The air crackles with an energy I've never felt before---raw and wild, like lightning barely contained.My heart races as I scramble to my feet, torn between fleeing and staying to witness whatever is about to happen.
The whirlpool grows larger, its churning waters now spanning the width of the moat, while a violent tempest emerges in the sky, writhing like a wild serpent, dipping down toward the earth.But it doesn't touch down, merely hovering several feet above my head.A low, rumbling sound emanates from its depths, vibrating through the ground beneath my feet.I take an involuntary step back, my eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Abruptly, the tempest aloft evaporates.
I return my focus to the whirlpool.But as I watch, it dissipates within a moment or two at most, and silence reigns once more.
How very strange.
I'm about to turn away, until a throaty caterwauling erupts overhead, drawing my attention to the blue sky---and the beast that's plummeting downward."Iasg is feòil!"
My curse, "fish and flesh," hardly seems appropriate, though.That is clearly a man plunging toward the earth, not a giant fish.And he will surely die.Swiftly, I issue a magical incantation---praying the man will survive.
I freeze, paralyzed by the sight of the falling man.His arms flail wildly as he dives toward the moat, his dark hair whipping about his face.In the split second before he hits the water, our eyes meet.His are whisky brown.Just like in my vision.
