A short distance outside the portcullis, the two drew up.
"Her ladyship wishes to speak to Gavin MacTavish!" the guard shouted.
"Stay far back away from her, son. She is the devil's own daughter."
"Och. I have no fear of her. 'Haps she wishes to tell me she does nay blame me for her son's death."
"Humph. Doubtful," his da muttered as they descended the steps. "Keep your targe before you at all times. Her guard might try to kill you. Or an archer from farther back."
Gavin nodded. "Remain here, Da, where you'll be safe. I'm the reason she's here, so I must deal with her."
Brodie and Torr joined him at the portcullis. All three held targes before them lest a foe should shoot arrows at them through the massive grid of wood and iron.
The two enemies waited outside, some fifty feet away.
"Gavin MacTavish," Wilona MacRae yelled.
"Aye."
"Torr MacElrath!" she said.
"How does she ken my name?" Torr muttered low.
"Alpin told her." Gavin scanned those behind her but didn't see his vile cousin.
"And Brodie MacCain!" she continued. "You three beasts murdered my son! Justice will prevail. I have placed a curse upon each of you. Your true beastly nature will emerge."
Brodie snorted. "What nonsense is she spewing?"
"The harpy belongs in Bedlam." Torr scowled.
Gavin nodded. "She did act half-mad the first time I met her. A mighty strange woman." He drew nearer the portcullis and raised his voice. "We did nay murder your son, Lady MacRae. He, his men, and Alpin ambushed us in the wood."
"Liar!" The word burst from her mouth in an enraged snarl. "I refuse to listen to you vilify my son. And if you retaliate against me or try to kill me, my powerful spell will ensnare all of you four-fold. I have spoken my peace." She turned her horse about, then rode away, the guard following.
"What the hell?" Brodie appeared perplexed. "Is she a witch?"
"If she is, I did nay ken of it." As Gavin watched, the party of six riders trotted away, back toward MacRae lands.
"Mayhap 'tis a trick to disarm you. She may send troops back in a few days to attack after we leave," Torr speculated.
Gavin had no notion of her true plans, but her eerie words about a curse echoed in his mind. A dark cloud passed overhead, and a cold wind whipped through the bailey, giving him a chill. Was she insane or a witch? Rumors of witches had circulated for decades. Their former king, James, had ordered many witch trials and executions during his reign.
Torr and Brodie remained at Caithmore Castle for a few days, but the MacRaes didn't show their faces again. Their surroundings remained quiet. The MacTavish scouts and guards found no MacRaes hiding in the bracken or the wood near the border. The MacElraths and the MacCains left, returning to their own lands several miles distant.
A fortnight after Lady MacRae's visit, Gavin awoke at sunrise, an immense and blinding pain slicing through his body. He shoved himself out of bed and landed on the floor. The pain vanished, but when he opened his eyes, he was close to the wooden floor. What the devil? He was only a foot or two tall. He glanced down at his own body and, seeing black feathers, decided he must still be dreaming. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them again. The feathers remained. He lifted his arm, but… he had no arm.
'Twas a wing.
What the hell?He tried to say the words, but a whistling screech emerged from his mouth. He muttered several choice Gaelic words, all whistling sounds. Black feathers covered his chest and abdomen. Wicked talons had sprouted from his feet.
God help me! What happened?
The curse. What had the hag said? Their true beastly nature would emerge.
He turned his head and glanced down over the sleek black feathers of his back. He had a tail like a hawk. Watching the long feathers, he wiggled them as if 'twas completely natural.
He turned his head, surveying the room, which appeared far larger than ever before. Glad no one was present to witness the abomination he had turned into, he ran across the wooden floor, his long talons clicking.
