The Highlander

Chapter Twenty Eight

I just watched her die, watched her as she trembled in fear of death but yet tried to comfort me by pressing herself to my side and touching my face, letting me know all would be right when she was gone.

But it wasn't! I wanted to scream at her, accuse her of leaving me on purpose and blame her for everything. But I couldn't. I could only blame myself.

My hand slipping to my side, my fingers grasped the hilt of my dagger before pulling it from its sheath and into sight.

Looking down at the silver dagger I contemplated whether life was worth living now. It was cowardly to go out by my own hand but I no longer had Rose to protect and cherish. My hands would no longer touch her warm skin, my lips connect with hers. I would no longer be able to have a family with her, and I wouldn't be with another, never, the thought of replacing Rose repulsed me.

But I could still live. Still fight for her memory. Dying now would put all my men at the mercy of the wrath of Angus McKenzie and his men, turning the highlands and the lowlands to a place of misery and death under his rule.

I turned the blade in my hand, its sharp edge nicking my thumb, sharply and painfully. Small beads of blood seeped out of the little would and I sucked the blood away. The sharp coppery taste hit me and I cringed in distaste, yanking my thumb from my mouth. The skin around the cut had turned a darker pink and its colour and the blood dripping from the cut reminded me of Roe's own wound and how much that would have hurt her and caused her pain. My little accident didn't compare, but brought the revelation of Rose's painful last few minutes to mind.

Would she be alone now she was gone? Or would her family and friends be there with her? Would a part of me, the part that died when she did be with her wherever she was? Would she be at rest or would she no longer cease to exist?

Throwing my dagger away in bent down in emotional agony and placed my forehead against Rose's my eyes clenching closed. My hand drifted down to her stomach where it became sticky with her blood.

Not only had I lost my love but the baby that rested inside her. No matter how much she doubted she was with child, I knew she was. It was more than a feeling or a hunch but more like part of me just knew. That one day I woke up and I just knew she was carrying my son, my legacy inside her.

But now they were both gone.

A rustling nearby alerting me that someone was approaching. My dagger was meters away from me and my sword somewhere back at the McDowell castle. I didn't care if it was an enemy soldier for me but if someone wanted to harm Rose, even in death, then I would fight till my last breath.

She deserved peace in death.

It only came to mind then that Rose had a family, a mother, father, maybe siblings, back where she came from. I never imagined how they would feel if they knew she was dead. I suspected they already knew she was gone and missing since as Rose said she was from the future and now stuck in the past. But did they know that? They at least deserved to know their daughter was dead.

But I doubted they ever would.

"Finlay..." someone called softly a few feet away from my and I reluctantly, after a few seconds, pulled my head from Rose's and looked up at them.

Graham stood by a tree with a bloodied and beaten Alistair by his side. They both had looks of remorse on their faces, Alistair more so distraught than plain sadness. His hands were clenched by his side, as if he was restricting himself from running forwards and grabbing Rose from me. He must have known I would strangle the life out of him if he tried to take her from me.

"It's time," Graham said, "Is here okay?"

I nodded once, my eyes returning to Rose. I noticed Grahams gave floating over the water and the same idea I had come to his mind. He spoke briefly to Alistair who seconds later disappeared into the forest.

Graham was silent while we waited for Alistair's return. It must have been almost two hours when he returned. The sky was dark now, the sun steadily slipping out of view, a dark red and orange haze settled amongst us.

Alistair slipped into view, his face lightened by the glow of a candle which he held in both hands as he walked through the forest towards us. Soon many orange glows followed him, alerting me that he was not alone. Soldiers and villagers alike surrounded the pond, their feet softly patting the ground as they walked. Soon the small area was filled completely and the large remainder of people went back, deep into the forest, their candles glowing just as brightly as those beside the deep pond and waterfall.

Two men came forward holding a large piece of wood. It was the part of a wagon you placed everything on, the many planks of wood becoming one strong piece. Three little boys stepped out beside them carrying armfuls of hay. They looked forlorn, knowing what they were doing here and what had happened.

The met gently placed the large wood on the floor and the boys placed the hay on it evenly, creating a soft bed for Rose. Graham approached me and my hands clung onto Rose, knowing he wanted to take her from me.

"Ye have to let go Finn." He said softly. I didn't reply but gripped her arms tightly. Graham softly grabbed her legs and on the silent count of three we rose, carrying Rose towards her death bed. I stumbled over the sorrow and sadness and two men rushed forwards to help carry her further.

We placed her softly of the bed, her hair melting into the golden hay. A handful of women stepped forwards. They straightened her dress and attempted to wash away most of the blood from her, trying to give her dignity even in death. One placed a halo of flowers on her head, the soft blues and pinks became bright colours in contrast to her pale complexion. They peppered petals over and around her body, making sure to place many over her stomach, covering up her wound. They all placed a gentle kiss on her body before they left. One of each hand, foot and her forehead.

Four men, including Graham and Alistair, stepped forwards to lift Rose but I stopped them silently, raising my hand. Walking around the wooden planks I stopped when I reached her left side.

I lifted up her left hand as I searched my pocket. Bending down I nestled my head in her neck, my lips on her ear as I whispered, "I never gave ye this. I was waiting till after the battle. But now I know ye were mine from the beginning as I was yers."

I slipped the small golden band on her left hand ring finger; the cool gold chilling my fingers as I pushed it as far back as it would go.

It may not have been official but to me she was my wife both in my heart and soul and no one could say otherwise.

Pulling back from her I let one tear fall from my face onto hers before standing up. Graham, Alistair and another man stepped forwards and we grabbed the edges of the wood and slowly lifted it to hip height as we walked towards the source of the small river. The pond glowed under the orange glow that radiated the area and the nature around me couldn't look any more beautiful. It was if it wanted to look its best for Rose's departure.

We lowered the plank onto the water and for a moment I feared it would not float and hold Rose's weight. It only bobbed for a moment before laying still on the waters surface.

A man stepped forward with a candle and bent down to set the funeral pyre alight but I stopped him, taking the candle from his hands. He stepped away, as did Graham and Alistair, into the crowd becoming just another onlooker.

My legs gave way and I fell to my knees beside Rose. My shaky hand reached forwards to set the hay on fire, but before I did, I gazed at her face one last time.

She was so beautiful, even in death. I wanted to reach out and hold her one last time, but I knew if I did I would throw myself onto the pyre with her and end my own life to be with her.

Just as I went to look away and place the candle closer to the hay something caught my attention.

Pulling the candle back I looked at Rose's face again. I thought I saw something but just passed it off as my mind playing cruel tricks on me, messing with my hope and sadness.

The flames of the candle flickered against the hay setting a few strands alight soon spreading to the others rapidly.

I looked at Rose, saying my last goodbyes, before standing and going to turn and leave, not wanting to look at her burn.

She was gone. She was dead.

But then her eyes opened, their blue depths staring right at me.