She stared at the rock, frozen despite her urge to run home. For a moment, it had seemed like the rock was trying to speak to her, as if behind the trembling, there was a voice. The voice of someone trapped in the rock.
“Are you a Fiadhain?” she said. She placed her palm back onto the rock. “Are you trapped?” Reaching with her Air magic, she strained to hear the Fiadhain’s name so that she might unlock its thoughts but she heard nothing.
The vibrations in the rock started up again, soft at first, but gathering strength. She wished that they could transform into sounds she could hear. She closed her eyes and a warmth blossomed within her, from deep inside her chest, sending flickering tendrils through her body and down the length of her arms, into her hands. When the rock trembled again, the sound of a rasping breath was released into the air – a sigh like the grinding of stone against stone, carrying a sadness as heavy as the rock itself.
Then all was still and quiet. All but her panting breaths and the rushing waves of the sea against the rocks.
Some revellers were still at Cannasay when she made her way up the cliff path but she barely noticed the sounds of drunken laughter and singing. Her head was in a silent fog and her heart was going at a gallop. It was growing dark and when she reached the clifftop. Smoothing back her hair which whipped across her face, she saw that she was not alone here. Murdo Macomrag stood by the battle cairn. He held a rock in his hands and, thinking he meant to hurl it at her, she looked around for anything she could use to defend herself with. But then he placed the rock on the ground, his eyes locked onto hers, a wry smile twisting a corner of his mouth before he turned and left.
Then she understood. “You shouldn’t start a battle you can’t win, Murdo,” she said, placing another stone beside his.
She thought of her plans to go to Ciadrath. She knew she shouldn’t let this conflict with Murdo be a distraction from what she ought to be focussing on. She should stay for her father’s wedding. Then she would leave. She turned in the direction of the Fiadhain rock. Perhaps someone else can free you.
“Kaetha.”
She turned to see her father.
“I’ve been walking about, waiting for you.”
She found it hard to meet his gaze. “I expect you want to tell me how disappointed you are. How I should control my temper.” He surprised her by embracing her in a hug. Her eyes began to sting with tears.
“You doowally. I’m not disappointed in you. I don’t think I ever could be. That eejit deserved a beating. Unfortunately, he’s High Clan. I just need for you to look out for yourself. Don’t antagonise him.”
“It’s a bit late for that, I think,” she said.
“Come now. Time to go home.”
She nodded. “Aye, home.”
THIRTEEN
Dark Clouds
Kaetha waited on the jetty, her hands on her hips. Donnan and Rorie heaved the net of fish, spilling the morning catch into baskets, silver tails flipping as if they were still in water.
Donnan passed a basket up to her. “I just didn’t want to go,” he said. “Take this will you?”
She snatched the basket from him, dropping it onto the jetty. “Fine. You didn’t have to come. I was just asking where you were.”
“It doesn’t matter where I was.”
“Why are you so—?” She gave an exasperated sigh.
They unloaded the rest of the catch, each picking up a basket to take to the smokehouse.
“I’m sorry if I sounded angry,” said Kaetha.
“So you’re not angry?” he asked.
She thought. “No, I’m still angry— Don’t laugh.” She elbowed him in the ribs.
“It’s just that face of yours, when you’re annoyed,” he said, making no effort to suppress a smile. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s just – I’m worried about you. You’re hardly sleeping, Donnan. You’re not eating enough, you disappear at odd times with no explanation.” She noticed a tremor in his hand. “You’re having those dreams again, aren’t you?”
Donnan said nothing.
“Why don’t you talk to me?”
He glanced behind them. Rorie was too far back to hear. He hesitated. “Perhaps there’s nothing to say.”
“I don’t believe you. Why can’t you—”
“Finola!” called Donnan as they reached the end of the jetty. “How are you this morning?”
“Well, thank you,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’ve sold two fair weather charms. It seems to be the kind of day that dances between sun and cloud but I’ve been trying to send the clouds away.”
Donnan raised his eyebrows. “Well, if you keep up the hard work, I’m sure we’ll all appreciate it.” They continued on their way. “Do they really work?” he asked Kaetha. “Her fair weather charms?”
“Nannie says it’s not real magic. But don’t tell Finola. She doesn’t know.” A bell rang out then, making her jump and almost drop her basket. Its repeated clang scraped through her ears, faint echoing of other bells following it from the town.
“Another Macomrag gathering?” she asked.
Donnan shrugged.
People descended onto the beach. Looking more like his father than ever, with his boiled leather tunic and hefty gold clasps upon his finely woven cloak, Murdo Macomrag appeared, flanked by the burliest of his clansmen. He caught Kaetha’s eye, a flicker of triumph in his face.
The town crier waited for Murdo’s nod, then unrolled a sheet of parchment. “We are gathered to hear an announcement from Clan Macomrag and a
