Page 19 of Highlander Redeemed
Jeanette looked at her, surprise lighting her face. “’Tis how you always seemed to know where Mum had mislaid the hair combs Da had given her, isn’t it?”
Scotia had to think back to the many times her mum had been scouring the castle looking for the combs she wore almost daily but inevitably took out somewhere other than her chamber and mislaid. “Aye. I never really thought about it like that. Ididn’t alwaysknowwhere her lost things were, but could always find those for her.”
“Good.” Jeanette pulled the sack of herbs and simples she always kept with her off her belt and held it up for Scotia to see. “I shall go and hide this somewhere. When I come back we shall see if you can tell us where it is.”
Jeanette took the pouch and left by the path. The quiet noises of the restless wood settled over Scotia and Rowan, accentuated by the burbling stream as it flowed over its rocky bed. Scotia took the opportunity to look closely at the open ermine sack, noting the symbols that she had only fleetingly glimpsed in the past. The inverted V with three wavy lines under it was for Rowan’s gift, the energy that comes from beneath the ground that she focused with the Targe to move things without touching them. The mirror symbol was aligned with Jeanette. The mirror, a scrying tool, was like the water in a cup that Jeanette used to tap into her gift of visions.
And in front of Scotia was an arrow, broken in two places so it formed a Z.
“What does this one mean?” Scotia said, lightly running the tip of her finger over the details of the arrow symbol painted in red on the hide.
“We do not ken. Not yet. If ’tis yours, then you will understand what it means when the Targe claims you.”
Before Scotia could form another question Jeanette was back. As she settled into her spot, Rowan lifted the Targe stone and handed it to Scotia.
“You may or may not need to be touching the Targe to focus your gift through it. I must touch it to focus the energy I pull from the ground. Jeanette needs it near, but she must be touching or peering into water to control her visions. Water is the source of her gift. Do you ken the source of yours? It might help you to understand how you must use the Targe ... if you are to be a Guardian.”
Scotia’s head was starting to ache. “I do not ken the source of myknowing,” she said. “But if the arrow is for a third Guardian, perhaps air is the source? An arrow flies.” She ran her finger along the Z-shaped broken arrow again. “Except this arrow will not fly.” She sighed. “Can we get on with this?”
“We can. Do you remember the first blessing Mum taught us?” Jeanette asked, her voice pitched low and soothing, almost the same voice their mum had used to calm Scotia when she was little and angry.
“Of course I do.”
“’Tis a good idea to start with that.”
“And then what?”
Jeanette shrugged. “We shall have to wait and see.”
Scotia took a deep breath, glad she could start with something familiar, something known to her. She held the Targe stone up, as she’d seen her mum do many times, moving it to her right, then to her left, then up over her head, and back down to the right. Next she held it in front of her, heart high, and whispered the simple blessing in a long-lost language. And then she tried toknowwhere Jeanette’s healer’s bag was, though she really did not ken how to force the knowledge to her. When that didn’t work, she waited for theknowingto come.
“Well?” Rowan asked.
“Well what?” Scotia replied.
“Can you feel the power of the Targe?”
“Nay. I feel nothing.”
“Close your eyes and concentrate on Jeanette’s healer bag.”
Scotia did as instructed, though she was sure now ’twas a waste of time. The stone did not claim her as a Guardian. Power did not surge through her as she had witnessed when Rowan was made Guardian. Nothing happened. She could imagine where Jeanette might have hidden the bag, but she did notknow. She opened her eyes. “Nothing. How does the stone work for you?” she asked, looking to Jeanette for guidance.
Jeanette chewed on her lower lip as she considered Scotia’s question. “When I call my gift, I let my mind go blank as I stare into the water in my cup, and it just ... comes. How do you do it, Rowan?”
“You mean you two have not figured this part out yet?” Scotia lowered the stone to her lap and glared at her companions.
“’Tis not like we have been at this over long,” Rowan said, squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine. “For me, when I hold the Targe stone I can feel the energy moving up through me. I can pull on it with my thoughts, or push it through the stone the same way. If ’twas not so clear that I am actually doing something, I would think ’twas all in my imagination ... but it is not. ’Tis very real.”
Scotia pondered what they had said. “So you can feel it and manipulate the energy with your thoughts, aye?” She directed this question to Rowan, who nodded. “And you do nothing but stare into a cup of water and your gift finds you, aye?” she said to Jeanette, who also nodded.
“’Twas like what we could do before we became Guardians, but more so ... much, much more so, and we do not have to wait for our gifts to come to us anymore, we can call our gifts with the Targe upon need,” Rowan said.
“That is not very helpful,” Scotia mumbled as she once more raised the stone so it was on the level with her heart. She closed her eyes again and tried to quiet her mind, taking long slow breaths as her mum had tried to teach her when she was bristling with anger or frustration, as Duncan had taught her more recently. After a few minutes she gave that up, for her mind was never quiet, and instead she pictured the bag once more and said the words “Jeanette’s bag” in her mind, over and over, as she had done with the child’s name earlier.
Still nothing.
“Jeanette.” Rowan’s voice broke through the drone in Scotia’s mind. She opened her eyes and lowered the stone back to her lap,glaring at her cousin. “Jeanette,” Rowan said, “do you remember how I helped you learn to use the Targe stone? I held it while you touched it and—”
