Page 12 of Following Her Highland Journey (The White Witch’s Apprentices #2)

11

A llan Martin arrived in the early hours of the following morning, and Adair joined the rest of the village in welcoming him. He seemed a genuine man, a year or two younger than Henry, with a kind of determination to him that Adair respected and liked instantly. She and Henry approached him together, though they did not speak to each other much or even look at each other as they did, each of them focusing only on the task ahead.

Adair explained what she had learned of McNair's plans to the Laird, and Allan listened to her without any real interruptions except to ask a few clarifying questions. When she was done, Henry added some details about what had happened during the attack. Only after they were done did Allan sigh and nod.

"Thank ye both," the new Laird said. "Ye've done Clan Martin a great service."

"I am truly sorry for yer loss," Adair told him.

Henry nodded. "As am I. Yer aunt and uncle were good people; they didnae deserve the fate that met them."

Allan studied them for a moment, then looked out around the room, where several others from the village—Isobel included—waited quietly. "Thank ye for yer kind words. It seems tae me that I'm not the only one who has suffered loss, however, and now is not the time for me personal grief. Ye say ye've sent on a letter tae Clan McLeod?"

"I have," Adair confirmed. "Caiside and Lorcan are good people. Though they will of course have tae protect their clan first, I've nae doubt that once they hear about yer return, they'll be more than happy tae join their cause tae yer own."

Allan nodded distractedly. "I have much work tae do, it seems," he said. "Adair, I understand ye intend tae head out across me clan tae help whom ye can, and I thank ye for it. I will send healers and soldiers tae help ye as soon as I can. In the meantime, though, I will need some local help. Someone tae help keep me books; money is a necessary evil in times such as these."

"Yer uncle's bookkeeper was killed in the attack," Henry informed him regretfully. "A good man, but no fighter."

Sighing, Allan said, "Unfortunate, but not surprising. Who would ye recommend? Me mother kept the books back home; me father said nae man could do it so well as her. Perhaps there's a woman here who kens her numbers well?"

Adair was not surprised by the voice that spoke up next, based on the small amount of information Henry had given about her.

"I can help ye, me Laird," Isobel spoke up with quiet confidence. "I kept track of me family's expenses before they were all lost, and I've been carin' for me home since."

Adair glanced over at her, surprised. She had suspected that Isobel's family might be gone, but the way the woman spoke, it seemed she'd lost them all in one fell swoop. What had happened to this girl, and what had Henry had to do with it? She looked over at Henry, but he would not meet her gaze.

"Isobel will be a valuable addition tae yer retinue, me Laird," Henry confirmed. He seemed to think for a moment, then added, "And her nephew…he's but thirteen, but when he recovers from his injuries, I ken he'd be an asset tae be trained, if ye'll take him."

Allan nodded thoughtfully, then spoke directly to Isobel. "Yer husband will not object tae ye havin' such a role?"

Adair held her breath, but Isobel simply shook her head. "I'm unmarried, me Laird. For the moment."

"Very well then." Allan nodded. "Isobel, gather yer things and bring them tae the keep, along with the soldiers I've asked already. And Henry…"

"I will go with Adair," he said, no inflection in his voice. Adair heard a few gasps and low mutters from the gathered crowd, and felt a surge of annoyance, thankfulness, and confusion all at once. She made sure not to look at Isobel; she did not want to see the other woman's reactions. "We will go as soon as we have yer leave."

Allan nodded. If he'd noticed the commotion that Henry's words had caused, he didn't comment on it. "Very well. Allow us tae supply ye with some food and a couple of horses, and may yer travels be safe. If word should return from McLeod before ye make it back tae the castle town, we will send a messenger tae find ye."

Adair thanked him, and allowed one of his men to lead her off to collect supplies. She was dimly aware of Henry following, not too closely but enough that it was clear there would be no getting rid of him, and she wondered just what she was going to do about this. Isobel's words nagged in her head. Unmarried…for the moment. What did that mean? And did she want to find out?

It didn't matter, not now. All that mattered was that she had people to help. And for now, that was all she could allow herself to think about.

Adair had felt many things in her life. Happiness, joy, and contentment, fear, sorrow, and pain, and everything in between. She'd felt love and hate, hope and despair, and all extremes of emotion in the past few years of her life, but one emotion she had never felt was awkwardness…not until this exact moment.

She and Henry had been traveling along the road on their horses for over an hour now, and apart from a few fleeting glances where the other quickly looked away and a few scattered words about their direction, there had been no conversation between them at all. That bond they'd felt since the moment they'd met, even under such dire circumstances, seemed to have vanished, and all that was left was a dark hole where the comfort had been.

How, in the last few days, had Adair felt all extremes? She'd found Henry again after looking for him for so long and thought she'd never be happier, but now? She was beginning to wonder if she even knew this person at all.

"We'll be there in only a few more minutes," Henry spoke up, his voice gruff and startlingly loud after all of this silence.

"Good." That was the only reply that she could muster. She knew that it might be silly, but if she was honest with herself, she felt almost betrayed by the way he was behaving. How was it that he couldn't at least give her an answer one way or the other about Isobel? What was it he wanted from her?

Henry seemed like he was going to speak again, but closed his mouth, and silently they urged their horses onward.

When they arrived at the village of Dalnaig, the second biggest town in Clan Martin and the main settlement between the castle town and the clan borders, all thoughts of Henry and the confusion she was feeling fled Adair's mind instantly.

If the castle town had been ruined, Dalnaig was destroyed. The whole area had been razed, bodies left in the street covered only with sheets and burlap to protect them from the elements until the suffering people of the town could dedicate time to offer them proper funeral rites. Only one or two buildings stood intact, the rest burned husks or rubble scattered to the winds.

Silently, Adair and Henry climbed down off their horses, tethering them near the mouth of the village and, after making sure they had access to grass and some water, moving forward. As they got further into Dalnaig, it became clearer that things were even worse than they had been at first glance. People were living in the destroyed buildings for lack of any other shelter, and it was obvious that the only remaining folk in the village were those too sick, injured, or otherwise infirm to join the refugees who had fled, along with two or three other brave souls who had given up their own escape to try to help.

Adair kept walking, Henry close beside her, until they found a woman kneeling next to a body, muttering a prayer. They stood back respectfully until the moment was over, and then the elderly woman stood and noticed them. She was perhaps in her seventies, far too old to be living in a place like this, and by her clothing seemed to be a member of some sort of religious order. Had this woman come all this way just to help people?

The old woman turned her eyes on them, ice blue and full of life, and Adair was suddenly strikingly reminded of Mor. "Well, new faces. I wasnae expectin' this."

"Grandmother," Henry greeted. "Forgive us for disturbin' yer prayers. We've traveled from the castle town—Adair from even further—tae offer what aid we can, and bring news."

The old woman tilted her head like a bird. "News? What news have ye brought that will bring back the souls lost in this pointless slaughter? Unless…have ye met with our refugees? Tell me they got free."

"I met many refugees from Clan Martin on my way here," Adair told her. "Many were healthy, and those who weren't were being taken care of. I cannot say how many of them were from Dalnaig, but I can tell ye that many escaped."

The woman's expression relaxed slightly. She surveyed Adair a little more closely. "Ye're one of the Witch's, child."

Adair startled. "What?"

"The White Witch. Ye're one of hers, aye? Did she send ye here?" But before she could even answer, the woman shook her head. "No. This is yer time, yer spell, yer path, aye? Very well. Call me Barbara, lass, and allow me tae put ye tae work."

Stammering, Adair asked, "Ye…ye ken Mor?"

Barbara didn't answer the question directly. She turned instead to Henry and asked, "What is yer role here?"

"I go where she goes," Henry said instantly, causing a prickling across Adair's skin. "And I want tae help as well. I'm nae healer, Grandmother, but tell me what I can do."

"I'm not yer granny, lad," Barbara told him, then chuckled. "I've me prayers to say. Ye seem strong—have ye a strong stomach?"

Henry grimaced. "Aye."

"Then ye can help me move these bodies and help put these poor people tae rest at last." Barbara sighed. "And ye, Adair, go intae the wee house yonder. There are injured inside. Faolan will tell ye what needs tae be done."

Without waiting for any other questions or giving any more answers, Barbara clapped her hands together, and Adair found herself immediately getting to work.

The people of Dalnaig had been destroyed, and while they were grateful and obviously in need of Adair's help, it was very clear that they were too exhausted and defeated to feel any real hope. She tended to them as best she could, though she knew that it wouldn't heal their mental wounds, not in any time soon. A few times, she saw Henry outside, despite obviously sweating from his work, despite the cold weather, and her heart made a complicated motion in her chest. Whatever was between them, or rather, whatever was not between them, she was grateful he was here with her, helping these people the way they could.

Day turned to night quickly, and though her eyes were drooping, Adair knew she had work still to do before she could rest. She checked through her supplies and noticed that her supply of certain herbs was running worryingly low; if she was going to be of any use to people, she would need to restock.

"I'll be back soon," she whispered to the pregnant lady she'd been tending, who at nine months along was too far gone to have traveled with the other refugees. "I noticed a thicket of the herbs I need just outside the village. I'll go gather some, then I'll be able tae make ye a tonic that will soothe the sickness, aye?"

"Hurry back," the woman whispered. "Barbara will be a fine midwife when the bairn is ready tae come, but Lord, I could do with somethin' tae help me rest."

Adair promised she'd be back again soon and left the woman's side, heading out into the cold night air. There were still covered bodies in the streets, but less than before; Henry and Barbara had done good work that day. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her and moved toward the edge of the village in the direction of the thicket she'd mentioned.

She found Henry and Barbara there, Henry shoveling dirt over a grave, Barbara whispering a prayer. Adair waited until they were done, not wanting to move past and interrupt a sacred moment, then headed past.

Henry, putting down his shovel, said, "Where are ye goin'?"

"I have herbs tae gather," she said. "I saw some nearby. I willnae be long."

"I'll come with ye," he said immediately.

Panic flooded Adair at those words. "No!" she said immediately, more sharply than she'd intended. She took a deep breath and shook her head, then repeated the words more slowly. "No. Stay here and finish helpin' Barbara, or maybe get some rest. I dinnae need ye tae come."

"It's not safe," he insisted. "Give me a moment tae?—"

"Let her go." Barbara spoke quietly, but there was a familiar commanding tone to her voice. Adair wondered again how well this woman knew Mor. "She'll be back soon enough. It isnae far."

Thankful, Adair hurried past before Henry could protest any further. She knew that she would have to have her confrontation with Henry eventually if they were to keep traveling together, but she also knew that she could not deal with being in his company right now.

She rushed out past the gravesite and through onto the main road, keeping to the sides of the road to keep into the shadows. She knew that she had to be careful, just in case.

It didn't take long before she found the thicket, and to Adair's delight, there were more of the herbs she used regularly growing nearby. She took some time gathering what she needed, then followed the herbs deeper into the woods, finding more things as she went. She knew she had to be cautious, but the further she went, the more she found, and perhaps a little more wouldn't hurt…

That was, until she found the body.

Adair yelped in surprise when she saw the man laying there, half-hidden in a bush, his corpse clearly thrown haphazardly to the side by whoever had killed him. Almost without thought, she pulled his body out and checked him over, making sure there was absolutely no hope that her aid could save him, but it was soon apparent that he was far beyond any healing now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She'd seen so much death in her life so far, even only a few moments ago at the village, but it still broke her heart every time. She would have to return to the village and tell them this man was here, perhaps have Henry bring his body back to bury it with the others. Had he been with the refugees? But then why was he so obviously recently dead? And why was his body hidden?

She looked at his face again, reaching to close his eyes, and froze when she realized that she knew the man who lay dead before her.

"Michael…" she whispered. Her heart constricted, and tears filled her eyes. Sweet, funny Michael, who had saved Henry's life, who had taken her letter without question, had been murdered and tossed to the side like nothing. She imagined how Henry would react when he heard, wondered what had happened to get to this point, and felt so sick and overwhelmed that she found herself staggering back from the corpse.

Adair took a moment to compose herself. She allowed herself to cry, for Michael and for all of the lost and suffering people she kept encountering. Hopelessness flooded her; would this never end?

Then another thought occurred to her. She rushed forward once again, and, after a quick murmur asking for forgiveness, began to search the body.

Soon enough, her worst fears were confirmed. Whoever had murdered him had robbed him, too. And the letter to Caiside was gone.