Part 17 (1/2)
”No thanks, I've work to do.”
It was the answer Jean always gave to Gwynne's invitations to work together, but today Gwynne succ.u.mbed to curiosity. ”I can't help wondering why you choose not to develop your power.”
Jean hesitated before answering. ”Having Duncan for a brother was rather overwhelming. I'm a dozen years younger, so he was already a mage by the time I was old enough to notice the world. My parents and other Guardians were always raving about his power-how he was going to be the greatest weather mage since the sainted Adam, and maybe even better. I couldn't begin to compete with that. My potential is average at best, so I decided to concentrate on mundane matters which I could do well.”
”I can see how it would be difficult having such a talented older brother,” Gwynne agreed. ”But aren't you interested in the magic itself? Wielding power is marvelous. When I get it right, I feel a . . . a oneness with creation that is the most exciting thing I've ever known.” Except, of course, for her marriage to Duncan.
Face a little wistful, Jean shook her head. ”Mostly I found it terribly frustrating. I know it was difficult for you to grow up without power, but when your magic came, it arrived in a great rush. You never went through the awkward, difficult phase. For me, trying to master power was like cutting stone with a dull knife. I might manage to scratch the surface, but the results weren't worth the effort involved.”
”Perhaps your power has strengthened with time.”
”I suppose that might have happened, but to be honest, I don't really have the desire to concentrate on boring books when the world is such an exciting place. There's a new day dawning, and I want to be part of it. Perhaps I shall travel to Edinburgh to stay with our cousins.” Jean finished her tea and rose, taking her leave with a nod.
Gwynne refreshed her tea, hoping Jean wouldn't follow through on her idea of visiting Edinburgh. Though the rebellion was quiet now, the capital would be an obvious focus of conflict if the government forces counterattacked.
Sometimes she had trouble remembering there was a war in progress not far away. Gwynne had ample time to read and study, and while she hadn't learned much about other enchantresses, the day before she had received a promising bundle of books from the library at Harlowe. Life would be idyllic if not for the danger she felt hanging over Scotland, and the tension in her marriage.
After the explosion in the library, she and Duncan stopped discussing politics. That prevented more arguments, but it had also put a barrier between them. They were courteous and affectionate with each other, but the intimacy that had been developing had frozen solid. Marital relations, no matter how amazing-and they were!-couldn't compensate for emotional wariness. She mourned their loss of closeness. When this d.a.m.nable rebellion ended, perhaps they could find their way to true intimacy.
She was about to leave the breakfast room when Duncan swept in the door wearing riding dress and a mischievous smile. Lionel ostentatiously changed position, turning his back on Duncan and tucking his nose under his tail.
Duncan raised her chin and gave her a thorough kiss. ”Come, my lady. It's a beautiful day, I have no pressing duties at the castle, and it's time you abandoned your books for a good ride.”
”I've been riding every day,” she protested.
”But you haven't been outside of Glen Rath. Today we'll visit a place you'll enjoy, I think. Change into your habit while I find us some food for the journey.”
She glanced out the window at the bright, windswept sky. ”You're being high-handed, my lord, but I shall overlook it because an excursion on a bright autumn day does sound appealing.”
”I'll meet you in twenty minutes at the stables.” He vanished again.
Smiling, Gwynne headed upstairs to change. Should she check the scrying gla.s.s to see if she could determine their destination? She tried to turn every aspect of daily life into another lesson. But this time, she decided, she would rather be surprised.
”Isn't this view worth a steep ride?” Duncan gestured at the vista before them. The day was windy and the Highland sky was crystal clear. A little below them, an eagle glided through the sky as it watched for prey in the glen below.
Laughing, Gwynne pulled off her bonnet so the wind could pull at her hair. ”It is indeed. I'm amazed the horses can manage these trails.”
He patted Zeus's sleek neck. ”The Montagues breed tough mounts well suited to our hills.”
”I suppose that's worth an attempted abduction.” Gwynne's gaze swept the rugged landscape. Though some trees had lost their leaves, others still blazed with color. ”This may be the last day that's so warm and pretty until next spring.” She slanted him a teasing glance. ”Unless you intend to give Glen Rath a mild winter?”
When she looked at him like that, he was tempted to turn the glen into a tropical paradise, but he shook his head. ”I give my glen more suns.h.i.+ne than most of Scotland receives, but doing too much would be conspicuous. A pity we don't live on a small island, where weather patterns can be very individual. Iona, a holy island in the Hebrides, will be sunny yet have rain falling all around it.”
Gwynne frowned charmingly. ”How is that possible?”
”I suspect that when St. Columba brought his Celtic monks to Iona, there was a weather mage in the group who set such a powerful spell on the island that even today the rain clouds keep their distance.”
”That sounds lovely. Can we visit it someday?”
”It will be my pleasure to take you.” After the rising was over-that was an unstated condition that applied to everything in their lives. He felt as if they were in limbo, waiting for a great and terrible storm to strike. ”I have another sight for you.”
He led the way along the narrow trail that crested the ridge, then descended into a small wooded hollow halfway down the hill. He dismounted and tethered his horse, then helped Gwynne down. The feel of her slim waist under his hands gave him ideas about how to take advantage of the sunny day after their picnic.
She studied the glen below, where a road and a river were visible. On the hills opposite a single lonely cottage could be seen, but the road was well traveled, arching across the narrow river on a stone bridge ”Is this the road to Fort Augustus?”
”Yes.” He shaded his eyes. ”Look, a company of government soldiers. They must be marching north to reinforce the fort.” The scarlet coats looked brave against the green glen, but he noticed that the marching was ragged. Probably they were inexperienced new recruits. The forces on both sides were ill-equipped and ill-trained.
That would change if-no, when-the Hanoverian government brought experienced regiments back from Flanders, where they were serving now. If the prince had faced seasoned troops at Prestonpans, the result would have been very different, and much more damaging to the Jacobite army.
Wondering how long the prince's good luck would last, he said, ”I didn't bring you here to see the view, lovely though it is.” Taking her hand, he guided her into the grove of small trees.
”There's great power here.” Gwynne studied the grove with unfocused eyes. ”I see the glow of two -no, three-ley lines.”
He nodded. The ancients knew how to detect the earth's patterns of power, and they built their holy places where ley lines converged. ”Can you sense anything else?”
She frowned. ”There's something else that's powerful but not as old.”
”My lady is most perceptive.”
They entered a glade and almost walked into a flat, irregularly shaped stone that had been set into the earth so that it stood upright almost as tall as a man. Half a dozen similar stones stood sentinel around the clearing.
”A Druid circle!” Reverently Gwynne touched the lichened surface of the stone.
”This site has something I've not seen in any other circle.” He gestured toward the rectangular stone shape that jutted from the middle of the meadow.
”A carved cross! What exquisite workmans.h.i.+p.” Gwynne moved into the center of the clearing and pressed her palm to the cross. ”I can feel the energy of the man who carved it. He was a monk, and he carved his faith into the stone.” She traced the interlaced patterns that covered the raised surface of the cross. ”This was placed here much later than the standing stones. Centuries later.”
”Your monk and his friends must have decided to use the energies of the ley lines and the Druid circle to amplify Christian power.” Like Gwynne, he traced the sinuously twining patterns that decorated the cross, feeling the serenity that had created them. ”The world is so large and we are so small. Belief in something greater is a basic human need, I think.”
”A pity that believers can be so quick to kill others who don't believe in quite the same way,” Gwynne said wryly. She jerked her head up as a ragged series of booms echoed through the hills. ” Gunshots?”
”The soldiers!” Cursing himself for enjoying the day with Gwynne so much that he wasn't paying attention to the world, Duncan raced back through the grove until he could look down into the glen. Gwynne arrived moments later as another volley of shots rattled through the noon air, smoke clouding the pristine glen.
Together they stared in horror at what had been a peaceful green valley. The distant war had arrived on their doorstep.
TWENTY-THREE.
D amnation!” Duncan swore as a screaming company of Highlanders swept down on the government troops. A handful of Hanoverians were standing their ground, and several attackers fell under the musket fire. But most of the raw government soldiers had panicked and they were bolting across the narrow stone bridge, elbowing their fellows in their desperate attempt to escape their attackers.
The rebels didn't even slow when some of their number fell. They continued their charge, waving broadswords and howling for blood. The few Hanoverians who had tried to hold their ground gave up and joined the panicky retreat.
Even high on Duncan and Gwynne's hill, the acrid scent of the black powder was sharply noticeable. Seeing that the horses were disturbed by the noise and smell, Duncan went to Zeus, using power to sooth his mount.
Gwynne did the same with Sheba. ”Can the battle be stopped before there's a ma.s.sacre?” she asked tensely. ”The Jacobites are running wild. They'll chop the royal troops into b.l.o.o.d.y pieces.”
She was right-soldiers in retreat were at their most vulnerable, which was why experienced troops knew it was safer to stand and fight. Duncan could feel the Hanoverians' fear and terror as vividly as he could hear the cries of the inflamed, triumphant Highlanders.