Page 61 of Highlander Redeemed
Kenneth moved to her, pulling her to her feet, then wrapping her in his arms, holding her tight. When he let her go, Duncan saw her quickly wipe away the water that gathered in her eyes again.
“The story is not done,” she said as she picked up a stick, and brushed away the fallen leaves on the forest floor until she reached dirt.
She drew Rowan’s symbol first, then drew Jeanette’s mirror as if Rowan’s symbol was reflected in it, and then finally her own symbol, the broken arrow, slicing through the other two.
“This is the story the stone tells: that the power to move things, the ability to see things, and the strength and wisdom of the twice-broken warrior must combine, as we learned this day.”
“It does indeed,” Rowan said quietly. “’Twas there for us all this time, but we did not understand—we did notknow—what it meant. Is this the way we construct a true Highland Targe, the shield big enough to protect this route into the Highlands?”
“Almost. There is one more piece of this story, Rowan. Which brings me to the word incised on the Targe stone, the stone in the grotto where Jeanette became a Guardian, and on the Story Stone where I became one, too.” She lifted the Targe off the sack and cupped it in her hands, taking it over to the other two Guardians.
“You do not understand this word, either, do you?” she asked Rowan, and then Jeanette, who looked at the stone but not at her sister.
Both shook their heads.
“The word”—she pointed at the three swirls in a circle that was incised on the stone—“means”—and a sound came out of her mouth that even she seemed surprised by.
“But what does it mean?” Jeanette asked, looking up at Scotia.
“It means ...” she said. “It means ...” she began again, but she had to stop, and that same look of intense concentration came over her face, just as it did when he set her a new lesson in her warrior training. “Again,” she said quietly, “the word is as clear in my mind as the waters that run in the mountain burns, but there is no single word to translate it. It means the place of power ... nay, it means the wellspring of power ... the source of power. Yes, ‘the source of power lies deep beneath the hearth.’ ”
There was quiet as what she said sank in.
“The hearth?” Jeanette asked.
“The hearth ... the home ...” Scotia shook her head. “I cannot say what it means in exact words, but I know for certain it means that the source of the Targe’s power lies beneath our home, Dunlairig Castle. ’Tis where Mum performed most of the blessings. ’Tis where she built the protection over the castle after the wall fell. She may not have understood the word, but by training or some other understanding, she kent the center of our home, the bailey ... where the water breaks the surface through the well ... was a very powerful place for a Guardian and the Targe.”
“That is where you first experienced your gift, love,” Nicholas said to Rowan, taking her hand in his. “I felt the power that night as well, though not nearly as strongly as you.”
Jeannette’s head was slowly moving up and down. She took a deep breath and looked back at the Targe where it lay in Scotia’s hands.
“Do you ken how to construct the true Highland Targe?” Scotia asked her. “Rowan can pull the power we will need, I can direct it with your vision and myknowing, but do you ken how to create such a thing?”
“Do you not, with yourknowing?”
“Nay, my beloved sister, I do not. Is there a blessing that Mum taught you that there is no known use for? Perhaps something she taught you when I was not attending to her lessons?”
Jeanette got that look on her face that they all knew meant she was lost in the Guardian lore that filled her agile mind, and then Jeanette’s eyes went wide as she stared first at her sister, then at her cousin.
“There is one. Mum taught it to me not long ago. She drilled me for days until I had it right, as if she knew I would need it, though she knew not what it was for.” And then she recited the words and the motions, and a grinning Scotia translated them for the Guardians.
“Nicholas.” Rowan smiled at her husband. “We need to go home, to Dunlairig Castle. We will need a little time to prepare ourselves, and to gather everyone who can fight. Is there any reason we cannot do this tonight?”
“There will be no moon tonight,” he said. “’Twill be good for getting everyone into position, but not for fighting. ’Twould be good to surprise them under cover of darkness, but not if we cannot see who we fight.”
“Then we prepare this night, and take back our home come first light,” Rowan declared, giving Nicholas a smacking kiss and a huge smile.
Duncan struggled to his feet and with his good arm swept Scotia into a fierce embrace. “You did it, Scotia.” He kissed her and was rewarded when she threw her arms around him. “You hold the key to our success. You hold the key to the Highland Targe!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE REST OFthe day passed in a flurry of activity. Reports came in quickly that the English were at the castle, but most remained outside the wall. They were finishing the temporary curtain wall that the MacAlpins had begun, cutting down trees and setting the trunks in place, though they had not gotten far enough with it yet to prevent the MacAlpins from entering the castle from the north, where the wall was little more than a pile of rubble.
The Guardians had retreated to a quieter part of the tiny hidden glen, where Jeanette had taught them the blessing that should allow them to create the Highland Targe, though it did nothing more than make a simple barrier, as they had crafted at their bower, easier to maintain.
“Are you sure of what the blessing means?” Jeanette asked for the hundredth time.
“I am. We each know what we must do. We have learned the blessing. All that we lack is the power to create the Targe, and that, as far as any of us know, is only available within the bailey.” Scotia looked at her sister and her cousin. “We are as prepared as we can be, and there is little use in delaying our plan just because we are not certain this will work.”
