“Trevor and his party met with trouble past the moor. ‘Twas only a band of scouts and easily deterred.”
“There are others?” Ian asked.
“Aye, many.”
“And growing.”
“’Tis as if they lay in wait, for their numbers to increase.”
Even from the balcony Helen could see the tension in Ian’s shoulders, could see Simon clenching his fists.
Something was terribly wrong.
* * * *
There was a large sitting room on the same floor as the bedrooms in the main wing of the Keep. Amber explained that its use was mainly a room for the children to play. Several chairs were brought in and many of the children’s things were removed to accommodate the MacCoinnich family.
The main hall of the Keep was littered with warriors. Some rolled out bedding while others fell asleep against walls. A steady stream of people filled the home and the surrounding courtyard and garrison.
Apparently a village nearby was threatened and Ian ordered its occupants to the safety of the castle.
Helen observed everything as an outsider. History unfolded before her eyes as she watched a Highland clan prepare for attack. There were high towers in the Keep where some men stood guard. The elderly from the village were given rooms inside while the majority of villagers sheltered in tents throughout the yard. Helen couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone. That alone astonished her considering how huge the MacCoinnich Keep was. Only a day before the place appeared massive. Now it felt cramped. Not to mention some of the Scottish accents were terribly thick, and the words used so foreign, that she couldn’t understand what people were saying.
Simon hadn’t made a direct appearance all day. Tara and Lora kept the family aware of what happened below through their wacky ability to speak to their spouses with their minds. Maids hustled in providing food but quickly scurried out to meet the needs of the gathering men below.
Amber retreated to her room and Helen now sat with Liz, Simon’s mother, who might be older but certainly didn’t resemble anyone used to what was happening around them.
“How are you holding up?” Liz asked.
Helen thought before answering the question. Threats were coming from all sides. There wasn’t any room that she knew of to escape. But then again, maybe Liz knew something Helen didn’t. “How are you holding up?” Best way to answer a question when you’re not sure of all the possible answers was to ask a question of one’s own.
“I’m scared shitless.”
The expletive made Helen smile. Simon’s mother might be dressed medieval style but she spoke completely twenty-first century when cornered. “Me, too.”
“We’ll be okay.”
“How can you be sure?”
Liz glanced over at Tara and Myra who were consoling the children. “We’ve been against worse.”
“Back home one man is following me and I thought it was the end of the world. Seems there’s a whole army out there coming down on us. I’m not sure what is worse.”
Liz nodded. “Magical is much harder to deal with than physical.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“No, I guess you don’t.” Liz took a deep breath and continued. “There are enemies approaching with swords and cannons, arrows and fire. But these are physical. There are very definite ways of defeating them—”
“Or losing to them and ending up lying in a pool of blood.”
Liz shot a look at the kids but Helen was careful with the tone of her voice.
“Ya, well,” Liz continued. “There are ways to physically defeat your enemy. When you’re dealing with magic the sky is the limit in possible outcomes.”
“You’re talking fire balls and moving objects with your mind. Not that I get any of that, but okay, I see where there might be an element of surprise. Still, eventually you’ll know what’s coming if you observe.”
“Fire balls and telekinesis is the least of what we’ve seen.”
Helen ignored the edge in Liz’s voice. “I forgot premonition and empathy.” There were other things Simon had said his family was capable of, but Helen hadn’t heard much of his unbelievable splatter.
“You really have very little idea what we’re capable of.”
“I’m held up in a medieval castle while some crazy war is being strategized below. Seems to me like we’re hiding and waiting for others to determine our future. I’m not sure how stoking a fire or making a clock fly across the room is going to help anything.”
Liz’s blue eyes caught Helen’s. A flicker of surprise shuttered behind her gaze before a knowing smile spread over her lips. Maybe fate took a hand when Tara walked their way and she interrupted. “Simon is on his way back. We should know more soon.”
Helen’s back stiffened. “Back? Where’s he been?” The thought of him out among their enemies made her heart beat a little faster.
Tara glanced at Liz. After a nod she continued. “Scouting.”
One answer.
Not one she liked.
“Alone?”
The question didn’t raise any alarm with the women. Both of them nodded.
Helen’s heart skipped a beat. “You let your son go out alone when an army is trying to beat the walls of the ton of bricks down?” Her voice rose and several anxious faces turned her way.
“He won’t be seen.”
How could Tara be so sure one man on a lone horse wouldn’t be seen? Suddenly the need to see Simon in one solid masculine piece overwhelmed all other needs. Helen stood and ran her suddenly damp palms along the confining dress she wore.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what? That it’s crazy to send one man by himself to scout an army? I know that’s crazy.” Helen headed for the door. A Keep full of medieval men be damned. She wanted to know Simon was healthy and wasn’t going to let anyone stand in her way in seeing it with her own eyes. Then she might have a word or two with Laird Ian. Who the hell sends a solo man to do the job of a small army? Helen may have skipped a class or two in history, but even she knew that wasn’t a very successful strategic plan.
She made it past the door and a few steps down the hall before Liz caught up with her. “You’re going the wrong way.”
Helen stopped and turned toward Simon’s mother. “I want to see that he’s not coming back half-dead.”
“And you think I’m all kinds of terrible for not running with you.”