Page 26 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

Gowan straightened, his gaze dropping immediately to the ground ahead in search of some danger, a fallen branch, a rabbit darting from the brush, a snake hidden in the ferns. He saw nothing.

“What is it, Rook?” he murmured, patting the horse’s neck.

The horse answered with a low snort and a restless toss of his head.

Then Gowan felt it. A breath of air, cold enough to raise the hairs along his arms and send a shiver skating down his spine. It did not belong to the warmth of the day. It was the sort of chill that crept beneath clothing and settled into bone, sudden and unnatural, as though winter itself had slipped unseen through the trees.

Slowly, Gowan turned in the saddle. Every tale he had ever heard as a child rushed back to him in an instant; stories whispered by firelight of spirits that drifted through the glens, of apparitions heralded by a drop in temperature and a silence too complete to be natural. For one absurd moment, he fully expected to find some pale figure standing upon the path behind him.

But there was nothing there.

Only the winding trail they had traveled and the towering pines standing motionless in the stillness.

Gowan scanned the trees, first to the left, then to the right, narrowing his eyes as if expecting something to materialize between the trunks. The forest remained maddeningly unchanged.

Then, without warning, a burst of light flared ahead.

He turned so sharply the leather of the saddle creaked beneath him.

Just beyond a cluster of trees, half-hidden by fern and shadow, stood a stone. Tall and weatherworn, it rose from the earth as though it had been thrust there by the hand of God himself. Yet it was not the stone’s size that stole Gowan’s breath.

It shimmered unnaturally as no rays of sun touched upon it.

A pale silver glow pulsed from somewhere deep within it, faint at first, then stronger, as if moonlight had been trapped beneath the surface and was now struggling to break free. The light spilled softly across the surrounding undergrowth, turning the leaves to silver and casting strange, shifting patterns over the trunks of the nearby trees.

For a heartbeat, Gowan forgot how to breathe.

The air around the stone felt altered, thicker somehow, humming with a strange, expectant energy that made the back of his neck prickle. Every instinct told him to turn Rook around and ride away. Yet another force, quieter but far stronger, tugged at him with irresistible insistence.

Come closer.

The thought did not feel like his own. He leaned forward before he could stop himself, his fingers tightening around the reins. Rook shifted uneasily beneath him, but Gowan scarcely noticed. He could not look away.

It was impossible. The stone seemed alive, its glow deepening, dimming, then brightening once more like the slow beat of a hidden heart. The forest around it had gone unnaturally still. Even the birds had fallen silent.

Gowan’s mouth went dry. This was madness.

It had to be.

A shimmering stone did not simply appear in the middle of the forest as though summoned from legend. He was no child to believe in miracle stones and wishes whispered into the dark.

His hands trembled despite himself. He lifted them to his face and rubbed hard at his eyes.

Then he lowered them and looked again. The light was gone. The stone had vanished as completely as if it had never been there at all.

Only the trees remained, their shadows stretching long and harmless across the forest floor. And the narrow path winding on through the woods as though nothing extraordinary had happened.

Gowan sat frozen in the saddle, staring at the empty space where the apparition had stood, his pulse pounding hard enough to shake him.

Old Fergus’ cottage came into view like a small blessing in the midst of the trees, and Gowan felt some of the tightness in his chest ease at once. The modest stone-and-thatch home sat in the center of a clearing bathed in late afternoon light. Its whitewashed walls glowed softly against the dark green of the surrounding forest. A low fence enclosed a tidy patch of yard where a pair of goats nosed at the grass and several hens scratched busily in the dirt. To one side stood a covered lean-to where the old man’s mare dozed in the shade, in lazy contentment.

Fergus rarely rode her these days, preferring to hitch her to his small wagon on the few occasions he ventured into Tokavaig. But he kept the animal well fed and brushed as though she were some grand lady of the Highlands.

As Gowan guided Rook into the clearing, the chickens scattered in a clucking flurry of outrage, flapping their wings and voicing their displeasure at having their afternoon peace so rudely disturbed. In the open doorway of the cottage lay an elderly brown dog, his muzzle silvered with age. He lifted his head at the commotion, blinked as though deciding whether the interruption merited concern, and let out one lazy bark before lowering it again. A younger dog, however, came barreling around the side of the house with all the self-importance of a seasoned guardian, barking sharply and planting himself between Gowan and the cottage. Not to be shown up by his energetic companion, the older dog heaved himself to his feet and joined in with a few more half-hearted barks, though his tail wagged faintly as if he already suspected there was no real danger to be found.

Gowan dismounted and stood quietly, giving the younger dog time to decide he was not an enemy. The animal’s barking turned to a low growl, ears pricked and eyes fixed on him. Before the moment could stretch further, Fergus appeared from behind the cottage at a pace far quicker than a man of his years ought to manage. He was wiry and bent a little through the shoulders, but there was nothing feeble about him. His weathered face, all deep lines and ruddy cheeks, split into a grin the moment he spotted Gowan.

“Oy, ye flea-ridden beast, hush now,” he called to the younger dog, waving a finger as though scolding an unruly child rather than a barking animal. “Can ye nae see it’s only the Smitty come to save me from starvation and neglect?”