Page 31 of Shaw

“I’ve naught more I may attend. The laird and Merrick, they’ve gone out so they may view the damage to the mist barrier,” the captain said as they strode out of the garrison hall. “We should bring Shaw. He may end the wee fiend with a finger tap.”

“He’s with Mistress Scott.” Duncan reached the first gate and waited for the guards to raise the portcullis. “I dinnae wish her learn of the imp.”

“These ladies from the future, they’re no’ easily shocked,” Nyall said as they passed through the gate and paused before the next. “Caroline accepted Jamaran almost from first sight.”

“Your wife, she’s wondrous brave as well as beauteous. I dinnae ken how you and the commander share her affections so easily, but I’m happy for you.” To save time he ducked under the grate before the men could raise it completely. “Mistress Scott seems much the same as Lady Caroline, although ’tis something about her that I find puzzling.”

“She looks upon us almost fondly,” Nyall said, nodding. “Yet we’re strangers to her, and you’ve seen her putting her hands on Shaw. What female on the island should act so bold?”

“You’ve made note of the strange color of her eyes, aye?” When he nodded Duncan changed directions to follow the trail to the Stone Forest. “’Tis something too in her gaze I near recall, as if she and I crossed paths in the past. Yet she came from the future, and I vow we’ve only just met.”

“Mayhap she’s an old spirit. Caroline told Jamaran that she saw the lady’s appearance change for a brief moment in the sunlight,” the captain said, and then related the details before he asked, “I found some scrolls in our sire’s archives that mention a very old order of woodland immortal that lived in the mortal realm long before the Fae. Indeed, ’twas said they taught the melia their strange magic. They possessed dark green hair and skin. Or reckon you she’s a shifter, like the Cait Sith?”

“Never.” He didn’t know why he was so sure, only that he was. “That lass, she’s no’ evil. If she served the enchantress, by now we’d all rot.”

“’Tis my reckoning as well. She’s too open and sweet-natured.” Nyall slowed as they approached the outlying trees of the Stone Forest, and held out a hand to stop Duncan. “Look, there, in the center grove.”

He peered at the cluster of willow trees at the heart of the petrified woods, and saw amber and bronze sparks flying out from behind one of the glistening trunks. “The imp came from the mainland. The thing wouldnae ken the melia here ended themselves long ago.”

“If they did. Connal reckoned they might yet live in the realm within their trees. Our sire named that the forest world.” Nyall drew a dagger, and pointed to the right. “I shall flank you there. Distract the imp while I approach.”

Duncan debated on drawing a weapon, but decided the Fae creature might flee at the sight of a blade. He walked slowly and quietly toward the willow grove, stopping when he saw a tiny creature crawl around to the front of one trunk, pounding on the stone bark as if trying to hammer its way inside the tree. The woodland imp resembled a badly-carved hunk of moldy wood, with twigs for limbs and a pointed head. It had no eyes, but when it hissed with frustration it bared dozens of needle-fine teeth.

“You cannae open that door,” he said, catching the imp’s attention. “’Twas sealed from within many centuries past.”

The tiny creature tilted its head back and made a sniffing sound. You did thus to my mistresses, son of Mar? I shall gut you and every sack of meat on this cursed island.

“Of course I didnae seal the ladies in their trees. Ever we’ve respected the melia of the island.” He made an encompassing gesture. “After my sire Prince Mar died, they cast a spell before they retreated into the willows and pines. That made the whole of the forest change into stone.”

My mistresses should never do such. For your falsehoods you shall be the first I end. The imp uttered a piercing, furious squeak, and flew directly at his helm, its jaw stretching wide.

Duncan didn’t know if it could bite through the grate that protected his face, but if it did he knew it would try to blind him first. Then it would choose a soft spot where it could burrow into his skin with its snout, and eat its way through his muscle and bone until it devoured him from the inside out.

A heartbeat before the tiny creature struck his helm a gloved fist reached out and snatched it from the air, slamming it onto the ground and impaling it on a thin dagger.

“Firesteel,” Nyall barked.

Duncan’s hands shook as he knelt and struck a piece of flint against the curving metal of the firesteel, making several bright sparks shower the imp. One caught his twiggy arm alight, and the captain gently blew on it until a small flame appeared.

The child doesnae belong here, the little creature screeched inside Duncan’s head. She carries my mistress’s magic. ’Twill end all you foolish halflings.

“Name the child and your mistress,” Duncan said, “and we shall find both.”

The imp made one final shriek of outrage as the flames spread across its body, reducing it to gray ash a moment later.

“Facking vicious thing.” Nyall removed a pouch and scraped up the ashes to deposit them inside. He then carried it over to the melia’s ancient ritual altar, bowing low before emptying the pouch atop the weathered stone.

Duncan removed his helm, and went over to bow before the altar. Although no one had seen a single sign of the melia since they had retreated into their trees and cursed their forest, he experienced a twinge of shame for destroying one of their creations. Although the imps were vicious and mindless, they only attacked mortals so they could–

“Captain, the imp, ’twasnae mindless. I could hear its thoughts. It also attacked me a second time after tasting my blood in the infirmary.” He pulled the leather brace from around his neck. “It called me son of Mar.”

“I heard the wee fiend’s thoughts as well,” Nyall told him. “Only why should it believe a bairn capable of ending the clan?”

“I cannae tell you. Melia, they’re ever the gentlest of Fae.” He pondered what the imp had said to him. “If one lost her daughter on Caladh, why should she no’ come and find her? She’d only need speak with the laird, and he’d send the whole garrison out so they might search.”

“Mayhap the bairn’s màthair doesnae yet ken her daughter’s here.” The captain went still, his eyes narrowing. “’Tis been better than five moons since we found a female from this time in our waters. The last, ’twas Deidre, who begged Merrick take her memory and return her to the mainland, where her family awaited her.”

“Aye, I recall. Of course, there’s Mistress Scott.” He thought of Julianne’s unusual eyes, and the troubling fact that she had brought Shaw back from the future. “Reckon you the Fae ’twill live in the far future?”