Page 150 of Highland Queen

Killian rushed across the room. He slashed at Macbeth. Turning fast, Macbeth blocked Killian’s attack. Dodging around Killian, Macbeth raced out of the hall.

“Stop him! Stop the king! Stop the king! The thane has been murdered,” Killian screamed as he raced after Macbeth.

“Cerridwen,” Banquo whispered. With shaking hands, he touched the dagger protruding from his chest. “Murder most foul.”

Quickly sheathing Scáthach, I gently lowered Banquo to the floor.

Blood seeped through his shirt. Macbeth’s dagger stuck out of his chest.

“No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening,” I whispered.

I pressed my hands against Banquo’s chest, trying to stop the flow of blood, but it was no use.

“Cerridwen,” Banquo whispered, reaching up to touch my face. “Look at me, my love.”

“No, no, no.”

“Cerridwen.”

“No,” I screamed. But this time, it was not me who spoke but the raven. Summoning the full force of that dark power, I let it overtake me. I flung Gruoch away like a tattered rag and looked down at Banquo.

He stared at me.

I lifted my hands into the air, pulled magic from the aether, and tore a hole in the world. There, on the other side, I saw Ynes Verleath. Andraste and Nimue looked up. Nimue gasped. Andraste rose, a look of astonishment on her face.

Reaching down, I pulled Banquo away from the great hall, away from Lochaber, and into Ynes Verleath. Nimue stared out at the world beyond.

“Nimue. Get my daughter. Now.”

Without another word, Nimue stepped into the world to fetch Aelith.

I turned to Andraste.

“Come, you ancient, black, and midnight crone. Fix this,” I commanded.

“I cannot.”

“You will. Now,” I ordered her, my voice booming through the hollow space.

“Foul, strange, and unnatural,” she muttered as she dipped a ladle into her cauldron, filling it with silver liquid. “This was not foreseen,” Andraste whispered as she knelt. “This cannot be. A price must be paid.”

“I will pay any price.”

“Hold him still,” Andraste said.

I held Banquo’s body firmly against the ground. His eyes fluttered open just a little. “My Cerridwen,” he whispered. “I will see you again in the next world.”

Andraste grabbed Macbeth’s dagger and tugged it from Banquo’s body. It came out with a spray of blood. She ripped the fabric on his shirt. Drawing arcane runes in the air, she began chanting in a language I did not know. She poured the liquid from the cauldron onto Banquo’s wound. Still, she chanted, moving her hands in front of her. I watched with my raven’s eyes as swirling blue designs formed in the air then sank into Banquo’s body. Again, Andraste poured her liquid on his wound. Before my eyes, the deep cut healed.

Banquo sucked in a breath and opened his eyes.

“Cerridwen,” he said, staring up at me.

I turned and looked at Andraste.

She inclined her head to me, a soft smile on her lips. “For all that I have done, I will pay the price,” she said then fell over dead.

I gasped.

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