He stood and faced her. “Allow me and Logan to escort the village and the artifact to MacLeod Castle. There you can be protected. Deirdre has attacked the castle several times, and has lost each time. She willna be eager to do it again.”
“Many fear the Warriors.”
“More so than Deirdre?
Odara bit her lip. “Aye.”
“I doona understand.”
“Evil is evil, Galen. The men who hold the god inside them may not be evil, but the gods themselves are.”
Galen took a deep breath. “Have you seen any Warriors? Have any harmed you or this village?”
“Nay.”
“There are Druids at MacLeod Castle. They wouldna put their lives in the hands of those who couldn’t protect them,” Galen said.
After a moment Odara sighed. “I need to speak to the other elders. But know this, Galen, they may well not believe your words.”
“Then all of you will die, and with you, our chance to destroy Deirdre.”
*
Reaghan stayed at the edge of the loch long after the sun set in the hopes of seeing Galen again. She didn’t know what Mairi had told him, but whatever it was, it had made him walk away.
Though it had never bothered her much before, Reaghan shuddered at the thought of another meal alone, or even one she shared with Mairi. She would much rather share a table with a large group of people where the conversation never ended and the laughter was loud and boisterous.
She had never eaten a meal like that, but in her dreams, in the flashes she saw of another life she was sure she had lived, she’d had such meals.
Reaghan walked aimlessly through the forest. She kept as far from the village as she dared, but always within the safety of the magic. She might want to leave soon, but she knew the dangers of wyrran and Deirdre, especially at night. It had been years since a wyrran had been seen, although she wasn’t fool enough to think they would never return.
In fact, she couldn’t shake the feeling they would return. And soon.
Reaghan stopped and leaned back against a tree, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know where that feeling had come from, but she knew it was true, just as she knew she needed to seek out the Druids in Foinaven Mountain.
She couldn’t explain it, and it frightened her. The headaches, the dreams, and now this feeling of impending doom. Something was going on, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.
But she knew she was involved whether she wanted to be or not.
In the past she would have gone to Mairi and confided her fears. Now, the only person she found herself wanting to talk to was Galen.
He had seen the outside world, knew what awaited her. And he knew of other Druids, Druids who might be able to answer some of her questions. It crossed her mind then that maybe she should travel with them when they returned to MacLeod Castle.
She would be safer with them. Alone, she was an easy target for those who would prey on her.
It was a risk. She didn’t know much about Galen or Logan, and if she considered leaving with them, she needed to know them better.
It was too bad she didn’t know anything about this artifact Galen sought. She would be willing to help him find it in exchange for being guided to either MacLeod Castle or even Foinaven Mountain.
A smile pulled at Reaghan’s lips. The elders might not tell Galen or Logan anything about this artifact, but they might tell her.
Reaghan pushed away from the tree and started for Nessa’s cottage. She didn’t stop until she stood in front of her door. The door opened almost as soon as Reaghan knocked.
“Reaghan,” Nessa said, shock in her voice. “Is everything all right?”
“Aye. I wondered if you could spare a few moments?”
The elder motioned Reaghan inside. “Of course. Is it the pain of your head which troubles you?”
“Nay,” Reaghan lied. “I find myself curious about Galen and Logan. I always thought we were the last of the Druids. Yet they say more are out there. I wonder how many.”
Nessa shrugged and sat at her table, an empty trencher in front of her. “It’s hard to speculate.”
“But you have to wonder.” It was a chance she was taking in making Nessa admit her thoughts, but Reaghan had to do it so Nessa would know she couldn’t lie to her.
Nessa frowned. “Trying to determine just how many Druids are still left in Scotland isn’t something anyone can do except maybe Deirdre.”
Reaghan seized the opportunity and sank into the chair opposite Nessa. “This artifact Galen seeks that they say is in our village, why have I never heard of it?”
“It is something we keep private and divulge to only a few.”
“There are only twenty-three of us left. How few do you need?”
The elder shook her head and looked away. “Why do you want to know about this artifact?”
“Because I’m curious. Because I’ve been living here for ten years and knew nothing of it. How is that? Do you not trust me?”
Nessa laid a hand atop Reaghan’s. “We do trust you, Reaghan. You are one of us.”
“If you trusted me then I would know of this artifact. It has to do with my memories being gone, doesn’t it?”
Nessa looked away again, which was answer enough.
“You won’t tell me, will you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Nessa replied.
Reaghan pulled her hand out from under Nessa’s and stood. She hadn’t expected to come away with all the answers to her questions, but she hadn’t thought to leave without some kernel of information.
“I will leave you then,” Reaghan said.
She left before she said something she would regret. For so long she had considered these people her family, the ones who would always be there for her.
What had happened in her past and the memories that were closed to her? Had she done something terrible? Her mind raced, imagining scenario after scenario. She thought of the worst and tried to picture herself taking someone’s life.
There was no way she could have done such a thing. But then again, she didn’t know the person she had been before the fever.
Before her memories were taken from her.
Reaghan’s mind was in a whirl of chaos. For an instant, she felt as if she might break into a million pieces, her heart wrenched from her body.
And then she heard it, the sweet, lilting melody.
Oftentimes they were able to hear the music coming from MacIntosh Castle. The sounds carried swiftly over the loch, making Reaghan almost feel as if she were in the castle herself.
She let herself drown in the music, let it quiet her battered soul. The melody from the flute was one of her favorites, and it never failed to seep deep into her bones.
Reaghan forgot her agitation, forgot her anger, and walked toward the loch. What better way to ease her soul than listening to such splendor?
EIGHT
