Page 53 of Enchanted

“I believe he will, though others will come in his stead. Our conflict with the English is far from over.”

Tormod looked around the campsite at all the sleeping men. “What will we do with these soldiers?”

“When they discover their leader has abandoned them, they will most likely return to England,” Alastair said.

“And tell the tale of an enchanted castle, no doubt,” Graeme said with a sigh.

“That is where we come into play,” Orrick’s voice came from behind them.

The three men turned to see Orrick and Callum approaching the campsite. “We have come to make certain they all believe what happened today was simply a bad dream.”

Callum carried his mandolin, but as they had discussed earlier, they did not carry the plate of glass with them to throw Callum’s image. At Alastair’s questioning gaze, Callum replied, “We tested the image-throwing outside before coming out to join you, and the trick did not work with so much light we did not control. It will be up to the four of you to protect me as I wander through the camp, lacing these men’s dreams with suggestions of fairy stories that will make it hard for them to recall what was real and what was not. Even if they do remember some of what happened here, no one back home would ever believe such muddled and fantastical tales.”

“I hope you are correct,” Tormod said with a frown.

Callum’s brows knit as he moved his mandolin into position to play. “You know a lot about war, Tormod.” Callum strummed the strings, filling the air with a bright, twangy, and high-pitched melody. “However, I know a lot about music and dreaming.”

Without waiting for a response, Callum strolled about the campsite. His music held a sweet and lyrical quality. As Callum walked, he sang of fantastical beasts and the fairy stories their mother had always told them of at bedtime when they were children.

Listening to Callum sing the songs of their youth, Alastair realised that the legends surrounding the MacLeods and the fairy realm reflected that interconnectedness of the two entities. The world of the fae survived and flourished because of the MacLeods’ belief. And the MacLeods thrived and were made strong by the protection of the fae and by intertwining with them.

Perhaps that is what they needed to communicate to Oberon to make the fairy king see that together, humans and fairies were better together than they were apart. He turned to Tormod and Graeme. “Stay and protect our brother. I must go see Keiran. I have an idea that might help us in our battle against Oberon.”

*

In the fadinglight of the day, Aria stared at the vines that had wrapped themselves around the old keep. “This must be the work of Oberon.”

“Only he would think to bar those who live here from accessing their own home,” Gille agreed.

“It is the fairy king’s trap all right,” Pearl said, sniffing the thick vine in front of her. “I can smell the magic on the fibres within the plant.”

Gille frowned as she tried to wrap her hands around one of the overly large vines. It was bigger than her two hands put together. “How will we move this plant? You saw what happened when the English accidentally struck one part of it with rubble. It retaliated.”

“Keiran was able to tease one vine away from the doorway with water,” Aria said. “Perhaps we could do the same? Mother, you and I can bring water to the plant like a carrot on a string. Hopefully it will follow when we lead it away from the keep and into the garden outside of the gates.”

“I have a better idea, one that might help the vines find a permanent home here at Dunvegan.” Pearl moved over to where the vine had sprouted and lifted a handful of dirt into her hands. She ran the gritty soil through her fingers, feeling the composition of the dirt. “The soil here is poor.” She turned to her daughters. “I suggest we get a wagon of dirt from the garden or the forest floor that is dense with nutrients and lure the vines away with that.”

“I can secure a wagon and horses,” Aria said, gazing at the purple and grey light that warned of looming darkness. “Whatever we do, we must do it quicky.”

“I will go to the edge of the forest and identify the richest soil,” Gille said.

“Mother, would you ask the men to bring several torches?” Aria asked. “I will gather the wagon and horses and meet you both at the edge of the trees.” Moving the vines would only be the first and possibly easiest part of unravelling the trap Oberon had no doubt set for Rosalyn, Keiran, and anyone else worthy of his wrath, Aria thought as she headed for the stables.

It did not take long to hitch the horses to the wagon. Aria guided the equipage through the gates and to the area of the woods now illuminated with torches. Several of the warriors stopped their work collecting rubble to help the women fill the wagon with soil quickly. Then, instead of heading back to the castle, the same warriors carried the torches into the garden where Gille had prepared a spot between the round garden and the water garden that Fiona had been working on over the past several months. The two distinct gardens were starting to take shape under her direction.

Half of the soil was spread on the ground where they wanted the vine to situate itself. The other half of the soil was shovelled out as the wagon rolled back towards the keep, leaving a trail of dirt behind. Only a few handfuls of dirt remained when they came to a stop beside the vines. After asking one of the warriors to take over for her as the driver, Aria jumped down from the bed of the wagon with her two hands filled with dirt and sprinkled it on the largest branch she could reach.

In the pale torchlight, the branch quivered, as though responding to the stimulus. A tendril reached out, searching for more. It coiled and stretched until it reached the dirt on the ground, then slowly the entire branch released its grip on the keep, slithering along the path they had laid.

One after another, the branches released the keep, until the entire plant crept along the path like an oversized spider in the moonlight towards the space Aria had planned. When the base of the plant settled into the layer of rich soil, it perforated the ground with roots, anchoring itself in place. And, with a final quiver, it unfurled its leaves and ceased its movements, acting as though it were like any other plant in the garden.

While Aria, her mother, and sister stood, basking in their success, the warriors who had helped them returned to the castle. Aria closed her eyes and allowed the silence of the night to flow around her. For centuries now, she had been trying to understand Oberon. She had studied him, trying to learn his vulnerabilities. And every time she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her. Would this be the last test the fairy king would throw their way?

Even as the question formed, she dismissed it. Rosalyn and Keiran were both missing. The fairy king was no doubt responsible for that, meaning their battle with Oberon was far from over.

At the sound of footsteps behind her, Aria opened her eyes and turned to see one of the warriors running towards them. The torch in his hands illuminated his overly bright eyes. “What has happened?” Aria asked.

“Now Fiona is missing,” the warrior said, his voice raw.

A dark shiver passed through Aria. Oberon!