Page 44 of A Laird and a Gentleman

One of the kitchen maids Mariam knew as Anne sat up on her pallet. She pushed her fever-dampened hair away from her face as her gaze connected with Mariam’s. “It smells like the woodlands are on fire.”

“You are perfectly safe from fire. I promise you that much,” Mariam said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Then what is happening?” one of Cameron’s warriors asked from where he had propped himself up against the wall near the hearth. “The darkness and the ash are terrifying. Is it The Rapture?” At his words, several other heads popped up as those who were awake wanted to hear their conversation.

“’Tis the end times,” another female voice joined in. “The darkness and ash are proof of that!”

“Nay,” Mariam and Vivian both exclaimed at the same time.

“Please, everyone, settle down,” Mariam continued. “I know the darkness is unsettling, but we have all seen the sun vanish during the day before for a short time, only to reappear once more as bright as ever. Perhaps this is simply one of those times.”

“Everything will be well, you will see,” Vivian soothed as she walked around the room, encouraging those who had awakened to go back to sleep.

Mariam wanted to reassure the castle residents that everything would be all right, but she could not form the words. For one thing, it would have been a lie. Despite the influenza easing, they were all still in great danger from the ash and the darkness, if not today, then in the weeks ahead when the water ran foul and the plants in the fields died. She could not bring herself to offer empty words of encouragement and optimism when she had no idea if her abilities would be enough to change this current course of events.

Despite her doubts and fears, she had to do something. She retrieved the linen she’d previously used and tied it across her face before stepping outside once more. All around her the world had gone still. In a way, the ash was like a snowfall that suddenly seemed to mute everything. Her steps were light and yet ash wafted up with each footstep as she made her way through the inner bailey and outer bailey. At the drawbridge, she was careful to stay to the right, avoiding the charred wood that had yet to be replaced.

A sheet of black velvet etched with silver and gray stretched out before her—devoid of any other signs of life. Her heart wrenched. She had hoped to see Cameron and his men, heading her way. Instead, there was nothing.

Mariam drew a wheezing breath, suddenly feeling helpless and lost. Would she ever see Cameron again? She closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember the sound of his voice and how it made her breath catch and the way her body stirred beneath his gaze. She’d spent the last two days thinking of him, imagining him beside her, longing for his touch.

Mariam opened her eyes as a feeling of peace came over her, as if she had somehow connected to the life-force inside the man who filled her thoughts. Cameron was safe. Of that she was certain. A giddiness came over her, only to be crushed a heartbeat later with guilt. So many others would not be so fortunate if she didn’t do something fast. The ash kept falling, heavier now. Was it nature that was responsible or something else she had never considered?

Piles of ash gathered around Mariam’s feet at least six inches in height. First to fall had been dark sand, then a finer gray layer, then an off-white layer as fine as dust. Beneath the ash, the grass had lost its brilliant green, the flowers had withered, the leaves on the trees had already started to curl and die.

A breeze stung Mariam’s cheeks, whipping the edges of her hair about her face. Her fingers trembled as she gazed at the dark shadows of objects in the distance. She longed for one of those shapes to be Cameron, but knew it was only more ash. Once the plant life had died, the animals would be next, then humans.

Someone had to stop the inevitable. That someone was her.

Mariam drew a shallow breath of acrid air into her lungs. The air helped to focus her thoughts and her purpose. She had controlled the wind twice now. Could she do it again and prevent the ash from consuming all that it touched?

Nessie had said Mariam’s mother also had such a gift. That very fact should have made her feel special. It did not. Instead, it made her feel a great sense of obligation. If she had powers, then she should use them, not as her father would, to benefit only himself. Perhaps like her mother would have, to help all those in need of whatever it was she could do to ease their suffering.

Her own breathing sounded overly loud in her ears. What if she failed? She had no training. If only her mother were here to teach her . . . Tears came to her lashes only to be swept away by the wind. Needing comfort, she reached for the shell necklace resting between her breasts. The shell warmed beneath her touch. It calmed her as she connected with the woman who had given it to her.

Feeling more centered, Mariam released the shell. Ravenscraig, and all those inside, would be safe from the ash. She would make certain of it. She had skills others did not. In her mind she visualized a mighty gust of wind. Then, lifting her hands, with palms out, she sent her very essence into the distance.

A cold, thin wind grew, whistling through the trees in the distance, setting them swaying in unison as if they were dancing. Dry leaves flew up to mix with the ash in a whirlwind of rustling, bronze and gold and gray, to swirl all around her from head to toe. The air was alive and moving, sweeping out death and bringing with it a newness of life.

Mariam stood completely still, afraid to move, to stop whatever she had created. She dug deeper inside herself, trying desperately to clear the ash away over the cliffs to settle into the waters of the Firth of Forth.

The air began to clear, and Mariam could see the sun low on the horizon, beginning to set. But the golden rays were enough to cut through the previous darkness. There were strange sounds now, like voices coming from the distance. Then shapes. And strange glowing lights. She tried to focus on the light as the wind continued to whip past her, almost weighing her down. Her feet were now rooted in place and it felt as though she were sinking.

The world before her shifted, danced as shadows arranged themselves in hues of gray and black before her eyes. The light was slipping away. She was losing the battle as all her energy drained from her. She’d tried so hard, but she wasn’t strong enough to battle so much destruction.

Unable to move or give anything more, panic swelled up from inside her, pulling her into a black, whirling eddy. The world tilted and spun, became a frightening blur and she felt as though she were losing control of her mind, her body, her senses. She started to shake as she continued to sink toward the ground, surrendering to the dark void that called her.

*

The very air was alive with magic as Kendric, Niall, and Jimmy led the village men in a charge on Ravenscraig Castle. Illness had killed two villagers already, and threatened many more, bringing a renewed terror to those who already feared Mariam Swinton.

When the sky had filled with darkness, the men of the village were determined to take matters into their own hands, without Kendric having to place such a thought in their heads. They wanted the witch.

They wanted Mariam to use her magic to send the illness away and to heal all who suffered. And if she could not, then the witch would suffer as all their loved ones had—at the stake.

This time, nothing could turn them away. Sinclair was gone and influenza had taken its toll on his warriors along with everyone else . . . even him.

A wave of nausea turned Kendric’s stomach then punched it as he pushed himself forward. He might be leading the villagers to the castle, but once there, he needed the witch to restore him to health before they took her to the stake. He prayed that she could. Thea would not lie to her own brother about what the woman’s magic could do.