* * *
The misty dawn of the Highland forest surrounding him had an eerie calm to it. The crisp clear morning air was only sharpening the resolve Leith had to find Luag Magrath. He rode into the village, half-damp with his clothes sticking to his skin. He passed by the watchtower, and ringing belfry of the nearby kirk paired with the hymn he heard from inside brought him a glimmer of hope.
He passed by a smithy and heard the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. Turning down a road, he headed to the inns he remembered in the village and held back on his horse’s trot. The pulsing need to find Magrath was a desperate itch under his skin, that would only be soothed when he found the man and carried him home.
It crossed his mind to call on Theodor Addair, the Laird of Denwen, but there was no time. If he did not find Magrath, he might beg the man’s help. He found the first inn. With his haggard appearance, he might alarm someone but it needed to be done. He alighted from the horse, right onto the sodden ground. Mud splashed up his boots but he did not care.
Taking the steps to the inn in one large stretch, he knocked and waited on someone to come and speak to him. An old man, bent nearly in half came and squinted up, “What are ye here for, son?”
“Are ye the innkeeper?” Leith asked. “If nay, get him for me. I need to know if a man named Luag Magrath is here.”
“I’m nay the keeper, son, but nayone with that name is here,” the man said. “He might be around and about, keep trying.”
Gritting his teeth, Leith nodded, thanked the man for his help and left to another inn. An hour or so later, empty-handed and frustrated, Leith had to turn to his last resort and go find Theodor Addair.
The Laird’s home was not as established as his. As Addair’s father had come to the Lairdship only two-and-a-half decades ago, his home was more of a work-in-progress. It was large stone creation with wooden finishes. The lane to Theodor’s home was long enough to have the guards spotting him.
The moment he came closer he could feel something was wrong. There was an air over the home, so still and heavy he could almost taste bitterness in the air. He approached a guard and announced himself and saying the issue was urgent. He then looked around with a frown. “What is happening here?”
An expression flashed across the man’s face too quickly for Leith to understand what it was. The man shook his head, “I ken it’s best for his Lairdship to tell ye, Young Lenichton.”
He then was sent in and another guard showed him to the meeting room of the Laird of Denwen. He heard soft susurrations inside and the uneasy feeling inside him grew stronger. The guard knocked and said. “Me Laird, Young Lenichton is here to see ye,. It’s an urgent matter.”
“Let him in,” Laird Denwen said.
Entering the shadowed room, Leith’s eyes landed on his old friend and his chest went tight at the pain and agony lined in Theodor’s face. For a man of barely thirty-five, he looked two times older. The man that was speaking to Theodor, bowed, “I’ll come back at a later time, Me Laird.”
Leith grimaced. “Denwen, what’s the matter? The air around here is so somber I’d think someone died.”
Theodor’s face went tight and his hand rubbed at his red eyes, “Funny ye should say that, Young Lenichton, someone has…my wife Davina passed away four days ago.”
The news hit Leith like a blow to his stomach. He reached out for the nearest chair and sat heavily. “Good God, Denwen, I cannea tell ye how distressing that is. I ken ye loved her even more than yerself.”
“I did,” Theodor said with a hollowness Leith had felt himself but it was only when his father was at the height of his illness. “I had wanted to send for ye, but I hear that yer Faither took a wrong turn and dinnae. Kent ye were in over yer head too.”
“News spreads fast,” Leith held his grimace in, “I was told the healer I had found to cure me Faither is in yer town but I’ll be damned if I can find him.”
Theodor rubbed his stubbly cheek. His light brown eyes still looked hollow, “Are ye looking for Luag Magrath?”
“Aye, I am,” Leith said. He leaned forward and grasped Theodor’s hand, “How do ye ken of him?”
Standing, Theodor unfolded his long, sturdy body and came around the table. He went to a table and flipped a goblet over. He then poured some drink into it that smelled like a fruit wine. “I ken ye dinnae drink, Young Lenichton, but please humor me.” He then poured another and handed it over. “I just…havenae been sleeping. With her nay by me side…it is hard to sleep in the same bed we slept in. Magrath has been helping me with me grief and me sleeplessness. I ken I’m stable enough for ye to take him back with ye.”
Leith felt like a bastard, a rotten dirty one for abandoning his friend when he needed him. Taking the goblet, he said, “Denwen, I swear to ye that if I havenae this problem with me Faither I’d be by yer side through this tragedy. The moment I have this fixed, I’ll come back.”
“I ken,” Theodor said tiredly. He tried to smile but his motion dropped short. “I ken ye’ve had it hard, running around seeking help for yer Faither. I ken ye’ve had it hard too. Ye have me blessing, Young Lenichton, just dinnae be a stranger.”
After Theodor gave the order to fetch Magrath, and speaking a little more, the man came into
