Page 50 of Enchanted

Chapter Nineteen

Aknot of fear tightened Gwendolyn’s throat as she looked at the Fairy Flag behind the protective glass in the castle’s drawing room. At the speed of a spider weaving its web, the thread woven to create the magical artifact slowly unravelled, leaving a fringe of yellow silk at the bottom of the flag and strands of thread at the bottom of the frame. What they once thought was protected was suddenly coming apart.

“That cannot be good,” Fiona said, frowning at the treasured flag. “What shall we do?”

“I sent for our fairy sisters,” Gwendolyn said. “Perhaps they can do something before the flag disappears before our eyes.”

At the mention of their names, the three women she had sent for entered the chamber. “What is it, Gwendolyn?” Aria asked as she, Pearl, and Gille rushed into the chamber. “The maid said you asked to—” Aria’s eyes went wide. “What is happening to the flag?”

“I do not know. That is why I called you.” Gwendolyn turned to Pearl. “Is this magic?”

She nodded. “Oberon’s, I fear.”

“Can you stop it?”

Pearl frowned and brought her hand up to the glass. “This is old magic. I fear I cannot stop it—only Oberon can do that. Though I can slow it down.”

“You must,” Aria said, anguish in her voice. “Graeme’s survival is linked to that flag. If it disappears from this realm, so will he.”

“Anything you can do,” Gwendolyn begged. “The honour and the very existence of the MacLeod clan rests in the fibres of that flag.”

Pearl closed her eyes, and let her magic flow from her hands, through the glass, and into the flag she had at one time given to the MacLeods. “My daughters, sing with me the MacLeod fairy lullaby to lull this magic to sleep.”

Aria and Gille stood beside their mother and in melodic voices sang the song that the fairies sang to the infant Iain Cair when Pearl had been forced to leave him in the human realm centuries ago. Slow and calming, the song wove through the chamber, expressing tenderness and protectiveness in the depth of melody. To Gwendolyn’s gratification, the song stopped the unravelling down to an imperceptible rate.

Gwendolyn’s tension eased. The Fairy Flag was safe for now even as so many other dangers loomed on the horizon.

As soon as the song stopped the flag from unravelling, Gwendolyn noted that Fiona’s features were pinched, and she kept fidgeting with her arm. Concerned something might be wrong with her or the child she carried, Gwendolyn moved to Fiona’s side. “Is anything wrong?”

Fiona drew a ragged breath. “My arm itches. It is almost unbearable.” She pulled the sleeve of her gown back to show the red welts that now dominated her wrist and forearm around her silver bracelet.

“Oh, my goodness,” Gwendolyn breathed as she reached for the bracelet, removing it from Fiona’s arm. “You are clearly having some sort of reaction to the metal.” Gwendolyn set the bracelet aside and with an arm about Fiona’s waist, ushered her from the chamber. “We must find Lottie and see if she has a tisane or an unguent to help with that swelling.”

*

Moments later, theclatter of hoofbeats sounded along the shoreline. Alastair moved to the sea gate, pleased to see a man in the MacLeod tartan riding towards the castle. It had to be the lad he’d sent earlier in the day to find William Gordon, the second Earl of Aberdeen. Alastair opened the sea gate, then followed the man up into the rear courtyard. The rider reined to a halt and handed Alastair a folded and sealed missive. “I rode as swiftly as I possibly could without endangering the horse.”

“Thank you, good sir,” Alastair replied, breaking the seal, then smiling. His friend had agreed to help the MacLeods in gaining a new commission for the lieutenant.

Finally, the tide was turning in their favour.

No sooner had the thought formed when a sharp crack and a slow whistling sound came from the front courtyard. Alastair tucked the missive into the top folds of his kilt, drew his sword and raced for the front courtyard just as a deafening boom, like a massive thunderclap, sounded.

He reached the front courtyard just as a giant crash sounded against the north curtain wall near the old keep, shattering the stone wall. Debris flew in all directions, causing the men in the courtyard to take cover from the projectiles. The sound of the explosion reverberated through the castle, bringing men rushing from inside, weapons at the ready. They raced through the dust and smoke to greet the roaring English soldiers pouring through the smouldering breach.

Keiran appeared beside Alastair. “Was that rider who I hoped it was?”

“Aye,” Alastair replied as they ran together towards the onslaught of men.

“Then you focus on wending your way through these men to reach the lieutenant,” Keiran said over the thunder of footsteps entering the castle grounds. Formations of red-coated soldiers approached like a red wave seeking the shore, rifles firing.

Some of the castle’s warriors fell to the ground, while others ran for cover. “The sooner you negotiate with the lieutenant, the better off we will all be,” Keiran shouted, surging ahead, providing cover for Alastair to reach what remained of the castle wall.

*

Before the Englishmencould advance any farther, a cry from the tower above erupted out of the chaos. The cath-ghairm, the blood-curdling call of the Highlanders was followed by “Attack!”

As he ran, Keiran looked up to see Aria and her archers. They rained down volley after volley of arrows, until the enemy was so rattled as they searched for cover that they momentarily stopping their gunfire, giving the MacLeod warriors a chance to move in closer, where English firepower would no longer be effective. The English would be forced to use either bayonets or swords, putting the two sides on more equal ground.