Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 21

"Lay still lass. Or your mother will be murdering me with a spoon." A giggle burst forth before she could stop it. A loud moan at the movement leaving her, but her vision did not dim this time. Her uncle's concerned face steady above her. He scanned her face, before turning to glace and Gilbarta, the worry on her face as real as on his. The apology was easy to read, Isla only hoped that she knew no apology was needed. She did what had to be done.

"Gilbarta, go above, find help. I don't want Isla to move until the healer had looked at her."

Isla was already trying to sit as he spoke. Found herself held down by large hands, a stern expression above her. "Lay still or I'll be tying you there to keep you so. Do you really think I'm going to risk your life, when I already did not stop this from happening to ye?" He sent a glance to Gilbarta, and she was on her feet less than a second later, fleeing from the room.

Artair reached to brush the hair from the side of her face once more. Another wince from Isla and an apology falling from Artair's lips. "Isla," his voice gentled now that he knew she was awake and listening. Her head still hurt but the thumping had just become a general burn. "Do you remember who did this to you?" The concern ate at her gut, but she knew that she needed to save her clan, and if this is what she had to do then so be it.

Hoping the lie was concealed by the pain in her expression she looked straight into her uncle's eyes. "Nay, I'm sorry Uncle. The last I remember is the door opening, I thought Gilbarta must have returned." She narrowed her eyes as if trying to remember something important. A slight shake had her wincing again. Her hand fluttering up to hover over the hurt, knowing the pain would only increase if she touched it. "I think I must have turned towards them, but do not remember doing so." The confusion wove through her voice, her uncle's concern did not change, did not seem to misbelieve her.

"Shh, it's alright Isla. No blame is on you for this. It is the fault of those outlaws." The rage caused his voice to raise. Upon seeing the wince, he fluttered his hands over her as if to take the pain. Only then noticing the candle still in his hand. Placing it upon the table above them. "I need to go and check on Murray. You call if you need anything." The worry for his partner was obvious.

"Go. Check on him." For Isla, herself, wished to know exactly how Murray was.

Artair staggered to his feet. Mumbling as he wove his way back towards the open doorway. "I'll run them down for this...how'd they get in? ... Why hurt an innocent girl?" The words faded as he stumbled through the doorway.

Reaching up to gingerly press at her temple caused the pain to thrum once more. "Ugh."

****

"Ugh."

The slight noise had them all pausing. Holding their breaths. Hoping and praying it was a good sign. Nessia was the one who took that hope from them for the moment. "It must just have been the fact she was set upon the bed." Bustling through the clansmen and women who crowded in the small cottage, looking for a task to complete. To help in some way, Nessia could almost feel the heartbreak that was coming if she could not help Isla find her way home.

Brushing her large son out of the way, she sat on the edge of the ticking. Making sure to block out the people around her she concentrated on trying to take in all of the signs of life that she knew. "Come on Isla. Don't you do this to us, you hear me? You know this entire clan will be a mess if you aren't there to knock us all into shape." Each and every one present had a story from their life of Isla, quite literally in most cases, knocking some sense into them.

The mumbling of those behind her hushed. The quiet louder than the voices, causing Nessia to lose her concentration and turn to find out what had caused such a reaction. The crowd parted as Gilbarta made her way in, slowly, her hip having seized up in the last winter. Her stick making a solid, dull thump as she finally placed it down. The honorary woman carried it with her as she struggled, as a nod to the order to carry it. But refused to actually use it. She was as stubborn as Isla. The two had been friends longer than anyone else could remember.

"What's the old fool playing at now?" Gilbarta's voice had thinned recently, a wheeze making itself known. She was the only one in the entire clan who could call Isla a fool and not be flattened for it. They all knew that the two had their own sort of language, having been friends for so long. But the tears which glistened in Gilbarta's eyes told Nessia more than anything else. She was one of the few who knew of the woman's 'knowings'. If she was upset as she looked at the prone figure, so small upon the ticking behind her, then there may not be much that Nessia could do.

Refusing to believe such a thing, she reached for her bag, before turning to Isla once more. Her hands fluttering over the barely rising chest of the strong woman who seemed like she had shrunk feet just by the loss of animation. As she tried to help Isla the best she could a gnarled hand landed softly on her shoulder. A quick glance had her double taking, glancing full at Gilbarta and the seriousness on her face. A squeeze on her shoulder.

"Nessia, give me a moment with Isla." At the reluctance Nessia was sure she could see, Gilbarta let the devastation leak onto her face. "Please, Nessia, I need to speak with my friend." Unsaid was that it may be for the last time.