Highland Magic Ch. 03

Kevin Fraser slipped down from the black's back as the woman toppled backward. He reached out to her, before she swooned, but he didn't grab her in time, and she struck her head on the small rock that she was now resting on. Walking toward her, he watched her. She was garbed strangely. Blue leggings that seemed to hold her legs tightly and a white tunic with no toggles and strange markings on it.

Crouching down he poked her gently in the stomach. She didn't move or make a noise. What the hell was the woman doing out here dressed as a lad? Kevin shook his head, knowing what lay ahead of him. Carefully, he slid his arms under her neck and knees, lifting her effortlessly. Standing, he strode toward the keep.

With a shrill whistle, the black followed behind, walking slowly. Kevin sighed.

Cien wasn't going to like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grasping the arms of the ancient chair, Cien Fraser listened to the final accusation. Three men were accused of abusing one of his scullary maids. When Cien himself asked the men of their guilt, they had all shrugged their shoulders and said she'd asked for it.

The woman Cien saw hadn't asked to be violated. She sat next to his chair on the floor, sobbing quietly to herself. Raising his hand to his head, he rubed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "You mean to tell me, this woman here, the woman sobbing to herself because she was violated, was asking for you attentions?" Cien said, sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Aye, she asked for it, she did. Begged for it," Brenden McPhearson said with a deliberate sneer.

Netty stood and if Cien hadn't caught her, would have flung herself at her attackers. "Yer nothing but a liar, ye damned McPhearson! I said nay to ye. Ne've a once did I say aye. Ne've once!" She screamed.

Bretta, the cook, stepped forward from the servants stationed near the door to the kitchens, and took Netty into her hands. Netty was sobbing loudly now, her entire body sinking slowly to the ground. Bretta held her up as much as she could, but when she too began to slide to the ground, Harold the blacksmith came forward, and picked up Netty.

"If it be fine with ye, my lord, I would take Netty to her chambers now." Cien stood facing the men accused. He didn't take his eyes off them when he gave a nod. He stared at Brenden with such pure hate, he wasn't sure it was of a natural occurance.

As he stared at Brenden, the other two accused stood slowly, flanking their obvious leader. "Gwain Fraser, Ulrick Fraser and Brenden McPhearson," he said slowly, "I am giving you ten minutes to get out of my sight," he bit out angrily. Brenden, thinking this was all he was going to do snickered. "And off my land." Brenden's jaw dropped, and he took a step forward.

Cien grabbed his neck, and yanked him close to his face. "If I ever see you, or them or any of your clan on my land again, I will take personal insult and petition the king for your death. After," he emphasized, "I've already killed you."

He threw him to the ground with a flick of his wrist and turned away. Giving a nod to his personal guard, he turned back to his chair and sat down.

Alac, his cousin and second in command, stepped forward with twelve of the others and picked up Brenden by his hair. "Get up, you filth." He growled at him. When Brenden didn't move fast enough for him, he began to drag him out of the enterance by his hair. "Liam," Cien called out.

The tallest man of his guard stopped and turned back to Cien. "Make sure his father and entire clan know why he has been banished from my land. 'Tis an insult I can not and will not condone." Liam nodded his understanding and left to follow the rest of the men.

Cien nodded to the servants, and instantly they disbanded to go about their duties. A few minutes later, Alac returned from outside. Sitting at the table across from Cien, he picked up his cup of ale from earlier. "Liam, Henry and Jessie are traveling with them to McPhearson's land. I understand you gave Liam some instructions to be given to the McPhearson?" Cien nodded. "That was a good idea. 'Twill keep us out of war with them."

"That wasn't why I did that. 'Tis to be a deliberate insult to the old man and his disgusting son."

Alac nodded. "I liked that about it too." Gulping the last of the ale from his mug, he stood quickly. "What say you to some exercise?" Cien looked up saying nothing. "Come now, cousin, you know you would love to try to best me on the field." Cien felt a faint smile tugging his lips.

"You mean, you would have great pleasure in besting me?" Alac roared with laughter.

"Aye cousin, something of that accord." Cien didn't bother to respond, but stood and picked up his sword.

Just as they opened the door to the great hall, Kevin, Alac's younger brother, was bursting through it. Almost knocking Cien to the floor, Kevin stopped quickly, and appoligized. "My lord, I do appoligize! It is just, I found this woman..." It was then that Cien's attention was drawn to the small woman clad in mens clothing resting in his arms.

"Besides her unnatural state of dress, what is wrong with her?"

"Sir, she swooned dead away at the sight of the black, and I'm afraid she broke her head on a rock when she fell." Cien looked her over quickly and dismissed her.

"Find a chamber above stairs and send for Maggie." At the name, Kevin almost dropped the woman.

"Maggie, the witch my lord?" Cien sighed.

"Maggie is not a witch. She is a healer. If the woman took a fall onto a rock, Maggie will be able to help her." With that, Cien walked around Kevin, who was still left in shock, and out the door. "Damned women are bloody inconvenient," he said as Alac caught up with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing I noticed was the pain in my head, it was constant and pounding. Groaning I lifted my hand to my head and wanted to die. This was the worst headache I'd ever had. The second thing I noticed made me go completely still. Humming. I could hear someone humming to themselves.

Struggling, I managed to open my eyes a small slit. What I saw made my eyes go wide. There was an old woman sitting in a rocking chair humming to herself as she went about sewing something. It wasn't the old woman that made me take pause, it was the room around me. It was... harsh. The stone walls were grey and looked stark. There was a large fire place off to my left at my feet. It wasn't the kind you see now days, but large and open. It looked like a hearth from the olden days.

I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at the old woman. She continued to hum, smiling at me now, her sewing forgotten. "Je vois votre éveillé maintenant.," she said. I tilted my head to the side, slightly panicked. "What?!" I cried out. I was somewhere no one spoke English??

The woman chuckled. "My appoligies." She stood up and walked to the bed where I lay. "There was a belief you were of French origins. There was a substantial wager being placed on that, and I wanted so dearly to disprove them."

Her white hair was pulled up in a long braid and then wrapped into a bun. Her eyes were the same green as the sea on a summer day, and her smile infectious. I found myself smiling back at her and not knowing why. "Who are you?"

"They call me Maggie. But 'tis the truth I have many names." She smiled at me broadly. "And ye, Regan of the future, may call me Maggie." I fell back on the pillows beneath my head.

"I'm sorry. Did you call me Regan of the future?"

She smiled again at me. "Aye child." She stood and picked up a goblet from the table beside me. I did a double take. It was a real goblet. Old, and was obviously made by hand as it had the look of beaten metal.

"Drink this," she said, and obediently, I did. It was sour and I nearly vomited it all back up. "Good," she soothed as she took the goblet from me and sat in the chair next to me again. "Would you like to know my other names, Regan?"

I shook my head starring at her. "What did you mean, Regan of the future?"

She began to rock again and picked her sewing back up. "They call me a Witch." She seemed to be proud of that announcement. "Alas, I am ne're a witch. Only a seer." She paused and looked at me. "I see the truth of all things, lassie. I see the past and the future. I see all." She dropped her sewing again into her basket.

"I know of your dream." My eyes shot to hers. "Of our Laird Cien. Of being called his Rose. I know this. Ye want to know what it means do ye not?" I couldn't speak and simply stared at her. "Laird Cien Fraser has never been wed nor does he have any child to call his own. Ye are here to remedy that."

Still I stared at her. "So you want me to marry the guy from my dream? Is that it?" She nodded happily. I rolled my eyes. "Riiight." I started to pull the blankets off and stand up when I realized I was naked. I let out a shriek and bundled myself back up quickly. "Where are my clothes?"

Maggie smiled at me as she picked her sewing back up and began to pay attention to that instead of me. "They were not appropriate for this time. I burned them." I almost vomited. She burned them?!?

"And what the bloody hell, do you think I should wear?!?" I knew I was screaming, but I couldn't help it. My clothes? I took a deep breath trying to calm myself. Count to ten, I told myself. After I hit ten, I knew I was going to count higher than any mathematician before I could be calm again. I opened my eyes and gave Maggie a dirty look. It was completely wasted on her, as she was sewing again, humming to herself.

Sitting up, I wrapped the blankets around me, tucking them under my arm pits like a towel and stood. Making sure they were secure enough to stand up with, I walked slowly around the room. Looking at the bed, I felt my heart stop. Everything in here, including the bed, looked like it should have been in a museum. It was made of wood with feather pillows and a straw mat. I swallowed.

Finally I noticed a small amount of light coming from beneath a rag on the wall. Hoping it was a window, I walked slowly to it, and pushed the fabric aside. The sight that greeted me nearly caused me to scream.

I was in a tower of some sort, at least four stories up. Looking down, I saw men and women milling about in what appeared to be an inner bailey. I studied them quickly, and noticed all the men wore kilts. Not the long-ish kilts Scotsmen wear today, but the short ones. The ones they wore back in the day.

The women wore old fashioned dresses, and the children were running around with out shoes. Looking away from them, I glanced around the courtyard. It was surrounded on all sides by stone walls. I staggered backward when I made my realization. It they weren't just stone walls. They were fortified castle walls. I turned quickly and looked at Maggie. She was still sewing, humming pleasantly to herself.

"Believe me now do ye?" She chuckled to herself.

"What year is this?"

She smiled again. " 'Tis the year of our Lord, Christ, 1231."

Oh shit.

To be continued....