Page 78 of Highland Storm

Betimes she missed Una more than she could bear, but the sojourn away from Dubhtolargg had managed to distract her from her grief.

Sorcha liked Lianae. And the simple fact that she liked her only served to prove that her brother was wrong to keep them all so secluded in the vale. People were mostly the same, no matter from whence they hailed. In the end, their bodies would all feed the earth altogether, and a new generation would arise again and pass.

“We are all merely passersby in this life,” Una once said.

Fleeting breaths, through impermanent lungs. There is an unseen life who dreams us… one who knows our fate…

As they sat watering their horses near a wide spot in the burn, Sorcha ferreted out the crystal Una had given her from her saddlebag, inspecting the bauble in the palm of her hand.

Una had been such a curious woman, and betimes Sorcha witnessed things in her grotto that could not be explained—like the color of her eyes now. One was violet, one was green, and she only realized it because Ria had asked. In fact, Sorcha felt changed after that morning in Una’s grotto—but the change was not so telling as the color of her eyes.

Tell me what you see…

Sorcha heard the auld woman’s voice even now, like a gentle whisper rifling through the ancient trees, and she studied the crystal in her hand, the milky white stone that once graced the hilt of Una’s staff—that punishing staff that so often found the pates of their heads. And yet Sorcha remembered it fondly, tears forming in her eyes.

The bruadar is yours alone to decipher…

They must be near Lilidbrugh by now; Sorcha could feel it in her bones—the same way Una’s crystal had called to her from her bag.

Lael had promised to stop and explore the old ruins along the journey home. They belonged to Keane now, but Una had often spoken of the birthplace of their clan—the pale stone towers that had once risen high into the pinewood trees, the cobbled courtyard made of the white quartz culled and hauled from the lands near River Ness. It was the same kind of stone some referred to as coldstones, used by the blessed to cure sickness and bring peace to the dead. Charmed by faeries, they were said to float like lilies on the water.

The fountain in the courtyard at Lilidbrugh had once been filled with coldstones, enough to provide blessings for every man and woman in Scotia. But, alas, it was as though the white city had decided it did not wish to be found, for they’d been searching for half the day and Lael was growing impatient. She had daughters waiting for her at home.

Thinking about Lael’s daughters, Sorcha studied the small crystal in her hand. Made of the same lucent stone as Una’s keek stane, the glass was smaller in size. It fit neatly in the palm of her hand and looked a bit like the one Una had kept upon her table—the one Sorcha had peered into the day before the old woman died. The keek stane was lost now—like the Stone of Destiny—but on the very day Una died, Sorcha had discovered this smaller stone lying upon her bed. It was as though Una had left it for her there… a gift.

Like the book.

The collapse of the mountain had not been the work of mortal men. The gods themselves had seen fit to take Una and her grotto, along with the Stone from Scone, with the sweep of a godly hand. Only this now remained…

Far more solicitous these days, with four girls to look after, her eldest sister came to check the bridle of Sorcha’s mare. “What is that?” she asked.

“Una’s crystal.”

Touched by a ray of watery sunshine, the glass seemed to wink in Sorcha’s hand.

Curious as to what they might be looking at, Cailin wandered over as well. “The one from her staff?”

“Aye.”

“Una gave that to you?” both sisters asked at once. That damnable ash wood staff had never left Una’s hand, and the thought of her prying out the stone from its hilt was inconceivable… and yet she must have, for here it sat.

“When di’ she gi’ that to you?” Lachlann asked. “I saw her with her staff the night before she died. I took the last watch on the hill.”

Sorcha shrugged. “I discovered it lying upon my bed…”

For a moment, whilst the horses drank, they all stood peering into the crystal as Sorcha cradled it within her hand, rolling it gently back and forth. And then she stopped and froze, peering inside. But neither of her sisters saw what Sorcha saw, for Lael and Cailin soon grew bored and walked away. Cailin stood chatting away with Luc.

“I say we leave off searching,” Lael said.

“Oh, nay! Ye may go,” Cailin argued. “We dinna need for ye to stay.”

Barely listening, Sorcha blinked, studying the crystal.

“I would not leave you,” Lael replied, her tone more snappish yet. “If I go, so do you—both o’ ye. I’llna give Aidan yet another reason to forsake me, do ye ken?”

“It isna your place to see to my welfare,” Cailin argued. “I am a woman grown! We are scarce twenty miles from the vale. Lachlann and I will see our Sorcha home!”

“Over my dead body,” Lael argued. “When I go, the rest of you will leave as well. There is naught for us here.”