Page 77 of Highland Fire

When she was done she soaked a small scrap of petticoat in water and gently bathed the sweat from his white face. She could almost feel the pain he was in. It was impossible to ignore. He looked incredibly young, hurt and a little afraid. Moira sighed as she realized what she had to do.

She lightly placed her hands on his arm. She could not heal him, but she could ease a lot of his pain. The youth’s eyes widened, and he stared at her with a mixture of astonishment and a touch of fear. Moira knew her skill was already working its magic. She could feel the stares of James and the other boy as they realized she was doing something unusual to Malcolm. When she was done she lifted her hands from Malcolm’s arm and slumped, a little surprised to find Una right behind her, ready to give her support.

“What have ye done?” whispered Malcolm, cautiously moving his arm.

“She just took your pain away, ’tis all,” said Una as she helped Moira drink some cool water.

“Ye have the healing touch?” demanded James.

For a brief moment Moira tensed, afraid that her kindness to Malcolm would now cause her trouble. Then she looked deeply into each youth’s eyes. She saw no fear or condemnation there, only astonishment and curiosity. Moira wondered if their lack of superstitious fear was due to their association with Tavig, even though it would only have been through Mungan, or because of their youth.

“‘Healing’ isnae really the right word,” she replied, slowly regaining the strength she had lost in using her gift to help Malcolm. “I can ease pain, help a person to rest, and even soothe a fever a little. That can lead to a cure. I really dinnae think I actually cure anyone.” Her eyes widened when they all grinned at her, and James, forgetting himself for a moment, clapped her on the arm as if she were one of his fellows.

“Sorry, m’lady,” James hastily apologized. “’Tis just wondrous.”

“Wondrous? I have ne’er heard it called wondrous before.”

“But it is. Do ye not see? Now the MacAlpins, and the Colls, for we are part of the MacAlpin clan, can claim both the sight and the healing touch within our ranks. I dinnae think another clan in all of Scotland can do the same.”

“Weel, I am glad ye are so pleased.” She stood up, Una hastily doing the same. “I think we had best move into the village.”

“But we were told to stay here, to guard the horses and both of you.”

“Aye, but that was an order given when it was thought we would be safe here. We are not. ’Tis verra clear that the rats are rapidly deserting their sinking ship, and we stand in their way. There were only three of the men this time, but there will be more if the battle turns in Tavig’s favor. Since the people of Drumdearg will take Tavig’s side, his enemies willnae risk trying to run through the village.”

“That seems reasonable,” James agreed. “Howbeit, I dinnae think Sir Tavig will like it.”

Thinking of how her secret was no longer a secret and that Tavig would soon know, Moira quietly said, “I suspect that when this battle is over, Sir Tavig will discover a lot of things he doesnae like.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tavig grimly cut down the guard blocking the entrance to the great hall of Drumdearg. He paid little heed to the pain-ridden scream of the second guard as Mungan swiftly ended his life. His sword held ready for any possible attack, he signaled the men with him to batter the door down. He sighed a little wistfully as they pounded the huge oak-carved door his father had taken such pride in. The thick wooden battering log his men used would seriously damage it.

At the first sound of splintering wood, he tensed, certain that his cousin was hidden inside and eager to get to him. The moment the doors opened, he, Mungan, and the men hesitated, waiting for an attack. When none came, he signaled them to follow as he and Mungan entered the great hall. He cursed when he caught his first sight of Iver. The man stood with a dozen men-at-arms, including Andrew MacBain and his three cohorts.

“Good ’morn, Cousin,” Iver drawled. “Your father’s spirit will be frowning darkly over the destruction of his prized doors.”

“But he will be weel pleased when I cut ye down,” Tavig answered, anger tightening his voice.

“Ye would spill the blood of a kinsmon o’er this wee misunderstanding?”

“The blood of two innocent men is on your hands, Iver. That cannae be ignored.”

“There is no blood on my hands. I took a knife to no mon.”

“Nay, ye ordered it done. ’Tis the same.”

“Most of Scotland thinks ye are the murderer.” Iver narrowed his brown eyes, twisting his thin-lipped mouth into a sneer. “Ye will ne’er fully remove that stain from your name, Cousin.”

“I should have cut your tongue out when ye were a lying, beardless boy,” growled Mungan, eyeing his thin cousin with distaste. “Ye were always an envious, dangerous lad. We erred in thinking ye honored the bonds of kinship.”

“Come out from behind your minions and face me mon-to-mon,” urged Tavig. “Let us end this here and now.”

“Do ye think me a fool?” Iver signaled his men to attack.

Tavig cursed viciously yet was not surprised that Iver would not face a simple judgment, but try to take as many men down with him as possible. He had to smile when Mungan gave his distinctive war cry, a sound so loud and bloodcurdling it caused Iver’s minions to hesitate a moment. Then the battle began in earnest. Tavig had no clear thought save to cut through Iver’s men and get to Iver himself who stood safely behind his hirelings screaming at them to kill him and Mungan and every other man who stood against Iver MacAlpin.

“M’lady, ye said we would come to the village, not go into the keep,” protested James, awkwardly grabbing Moira by the arm to halt her advance on Drumdearg castle.