Highland Storm Read Free Page B

to come, things that passed, things that lingered yet in twilight. The trick of it all was to distinguish which of these visions revealed the paths she might yet alter. Today, her visions had been as clear as the faerie pools on the Isle of Skye, which only meant that the future she saw was inalterable now.
    Stealing the bounce from her old limbs, a rush of sadness enveloped her. Today, even her skin felt tired; it hung limply from her ancient frame, as though it no longer had the will to remain. She had more aches in her small toe than most suffered in a lifetime. And now time was growing short…
    Clach-na-cinneamhain must never be found.
    The Stone of Destiny was no longer a blessing to men. Imbued with powers far beyond the faith it instilled in men, the dark-veined basalt rock had once belonged to the Gaels—their holiest of relics, brought to Scotia by way of Erin and blessed by a Pecht priestess. By the power vested in that Destiny Stone, men were doomed to commit vile acts in Alba’s name. Having seen the lengths to which they would go for a taste of immortality, Una herself had entombed the Stone and then chosen her guardians well. But to leave it now in mortal hands was to ensure that Scotia’s rivers always ran red.
    What to do… what to do…
    Alas, it was not something she could burden Aidan with, for her prophecy would only serve to breed anger and fear. And worse, if Aidan should discover Keane’s part in bringing the Stone’s journey to its end, he would blame Keane, and the younger dún Scoti must continue as he should. They did not like to think of themselves as sons of Scotia, but sons of Scotia was what they were—Pechts, Gaels, Scots. These were all merely different names for precisely the same thing. A thorn by any other name was still a thorn.
    A thousand cold fingers pricked at her flesh, like a thousand dead kinsmen accusing without words. “I ken,” she said with a bit of irritation. “I ken. I will see the stone destroyed. Be still now, and leave me to think!”
    As though it merely meant to obey, the fox moth returned to the table, beating its bird-like wings. It landed upon the tartan, atop the crystal and then sat staring at Una, fanning its hairy wings and wiggling its horn-like antennae.
    The caves where she made her home were solid throughout, the Stone itself entombed within the mountain’s deepest vault. Some years past, Aidan’s new wife had fallen inside from a fault line above, but the breach had long been sealed, and now there remained only one entrance into the vault—here through Una’s workshop—in the grotto where she now stood. The entrance was accessible only through a trap door that lay hidden beneath her alchemy table. But sealing the door was not proof enough.
    Fire was not proof enough. The Stone would not burn, and neither would it score the curse from its basaltic pores. And furthermore, despite the magik she possessed, she could never ferret that heavy Stone out alone. But even if she could, it was impossible to remove an object of that size without raising some alarm. The Guardians of the Stone had now been at their task far too long. They would never let it go.
    Forsooth, but it was a quandary for the gods—of which Una was most certainly not one. She was, after all, only a humble servant of men.
    With a wistful smile she considered Aidan’s family, the last of the guardians in truth. Lìli, Ria, and the new child Lìli now bore. Young Cailin’s path was as yet unknown. And Keane had always been a sweet, sweet lad, though his heart had hardened. Catrìona was the first to leave. She’d wed herself to a second son of the Brodie clan. And Lael too had fled, to wed the laird of Keppenach. And lastly, there was Sorcha… dearest Sorcha…
    Soon the guardians would all be free to roam the lands, each aligned to a new clan. Alas, but the paths of men could no longer be altered—not in this age or the next.
    Tears pricked at her auld eyes, catching in the folds