I shake my head, rub my eyes, and look again. They’re here, aren’t they? I’m not losing it.
They’re too far, and it’s not yet bright enough, but I squint at what I can make out—livery, clothes I’ve seen recently.
That’s one of the guards that was traveling with me and Cecil.
Has he been trailing me this whole time?
I scan the area, but it looks like it’s just the one guard. He’ll report back to Cecil. Probably waiting to see if I actually make it to the border.
I lift my hand in a rude gesture.
The guard doesn’t react.
Putting my back to the man, I carry on, coming to a flat bit of land—a road. I’ve crossed onto a road.
This is Scotland. Not the no-man’s-land anymore.
I don’t know how I know, but it’s a bone-deep certainty that has me pivoting to look back at Cecil’s man.
But the guard is where I left him. Far away now. Watching me.
We stare at each other for a good long moment before he turns and walks back the way he came.
“Give him my best!” I shout, but it’s a far distance, and the wind steals the words.
He and Cecil can both go straight to hell.
There are trees up ahead, the same type of gnarled, twisted ones I’ve passed dozens of times, and beyond them, just off another small rise, is a town, no more than half a dozen buildings all hugged up on each other, confirming that this is the border; I’ve made it to Scotland.
Relief doesn’t have a chance to settle before I notice the flock of birds.
A great big group of ’em hovers over the town, twisting in and out in a cyclone shape.
It’s so odd, I come to a stop, head cocking, wondering if my sleeplessness has finally gotten me. It’s only been one night of no sleep though; I’ve gone longer. This can’t be a hallucination.
Then, a scream.
From the town, from beneath the birds. Another follows, terror incarnate, and the oddity shatters in the panic that grabs my shoulders and pulls.
For half a beat, I resist.
If I go into the town and whatever’s causing the screams triggers my curse, I could just add to the horror. A monster on a rampage amid whatever’s harming people.
Another wail rings out, soul-cutting horror that jabs straight through me.
I sprint for the town, heart in my throat, and dig for that small knife I’ve got.
Some welcome to Scotland this is.
5
Alyth
I’m bone weary by the time I reach a village near the border. The little cluster of homes stands a few miles to the west, but my eyes are on the south. The magic is stronger here, at the edge, and I canseethe barrier, golden light encapsulating my homeland.
I sag in relief as the horse plods forward.
Despite the bean-nighe’s prophecy, the wall is still strong.
