AN - Thanks everyone for coming on to read the fourth book in the series. And this is for all who have waited so patiently for Artair's story. Especially for my mother who asks everytime I ring her when I will start Artair's book. Well, I've started it...enjoy!
Az x
Chapter 1
The cobbled streets congested with people jostling things here and there. It was making him feel particularly sick in the stomach as he tried to navigate the streets back to the small house he and Kendrick had taken possession of. It was moments like this that he began to wonder exactly why he had wished to leave the stark beauty of the Highlands for the congestion of Edinburgh. Nearly a year and a half since he had left the comforts of a home fire, he was a changed man. His twin would be unable to recognise the male he had become, with as close as they had always been, over the time he had been away there had only been a few messages between them since.
It was difficult during the winter months, with the passages completely covered in snow, he knew there was no way any information would come out of the Mackay Keep to find him, and there was no way he could find his way back with the snow on the ground. But a part of his soul would always call to the highlands. The snow on the ground there a pristine white and filled with sparkling crystals of light. Here, well the snow was more sludge kicked to the side as if trying to scurry out of the way of the busy people, bustling around.
It was more overwhelming than he had ever believed before he had arrived here just under a year ago. Having helped Kendrick to set up trade routes with some of the Lowland Laird’s before making their way to Edinburgh and using some of Kendrick’s contacts to set up meetings with the borderland English. But the bloody English were stubborn fools, and they were dragging their heels over everything. Meaning he was away from his beloved highlands for longer than even he had planned.
Yet the gnawing sensation in his stomach would not let up. It was telling him something was here and he had to search for it. But where to begin, or what he was actually looking for was beyond his comprehension. Though he knew that no matter his longing for home, he could not until this gnawing was appeased. Otherwise he could not survive the rest of his life being this uncomfortable.
Sighing heavily, as he was jostled once more, his kilt trying to fly in the swift cold breeze and his boots now splattered with muck and sludged up snow. He wanted to scream to the Lord above. But he knew that he was most definitely never going to leave Mackay land again once he set foot on it once more. It was aggravating to be so confined in a space he knew was so large. There were too many people in this blasted place. Give him the open air and solitary land of the MacKay’s. Even the air up there was so different. It was clean. The stench around him still had him wanting to gag at times. And he had known some pigs in his life. Had these people never heard of water?
Pushing his way through a particularly thick crowd coming in his direction as he tried to fight the tide they created, to get through to the other side. Holding his breath as he passed a particular side street he knew would make him lightheaded just from the very smell that emanated from it. How people lived in such squalor he would never understand.
Tugging upon the edge of his tartan bonnet. His kilt kicking up about his knees, as he tried to miss a steaming pile in the middle of the cobbles. How could anyone walk these streets and miss the dirt of them? Robbie, had taken a room in the house beside the one he was staying within, though give him a small cottage with space between it and the next house along and he would be a lot happier. He spoke of how Edinburgh was the finest place he had ever seen, but maybe Artair was biased, but he was sure he had lived in the finest place in the earth, and here he was leaving that behind to spend another winter away from home and family to appease the bloody English Baron that refused to move quickly on matters he wished done with.
Blowing out another frustrated breath. He could not wish anything more than to be upon the parapet of MacKay Keep looking out upon a blanket of white. His eyes scanning the street, when he froze. It was there again. He had seen it everywhere recently, and he thought he was going mad, but no, it was there again. As a rather burly chap nearly knocked him flying, he realised he could not stop within the stream of people running back and forth. When he brought his head back up it was gone. Just a flash once more and he knew now that at least he was not going mad, it was real. He had not touched a drop of liquor in days and it was still mid-morning. The weak sunlight had caught upon hair he would recognise anywhere, but he could not imagine the reason for why they would be here.
Moving swiftly to the side of the street he leant against a solid wall, and wiped a hand down his weary face. Was he seeing things after all? Shaking his head, he could not stand not being able to know, and yet all he had been able to do was catch a glimpse here and there, and by the time he had realised what he had seen he had missed the direction it had disappeared too.
With his package in hand her shook his head clear of the cobwebs and headed for the building he had come to know well. Shaking off the cold as he finally managed to step through the solid door. The darkness that greeted him told him Kendrick was still out, which was a blessing at that moment, he needed time to himself in this place so full and noisy at all times. Dropping into a wooden chair, that he was sure had given him a nasty splinter a few days ago, he stared morosely upon the empty hearth. It was the combination of time and weather that had caused this melancholy and home sickness.
Yet a restlessness settled in upon his shoulders, and within minutes he was up and pacing, feeling trapped in the very walls that blocked out the streets of innumerable people beyond. Knowing it was useless, he straightened his bonnet once more, dropped his package on the rough table near the corner, and stepped straight back out into the chill once more, his gut leading him. He was surely going mad, but he felt as if he was needed somewhere. As if someone was silently pleading for his help. But without any knowledge of who or why, how was he supposed to be any help what so ever?
He seemed to wander aimlessly. Kicking at a stray pebble every now and then, until the urgency increased, and he took some sharp turns he did not recognise, even after all of the exploring he had done over the last months. His breath increased, and he irritated pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, wishing he had tied back the shoulder length brown mop in the leather strip he had left upon the sheets of his bed that morn.
A small scuffle was heard as he was pushed to the side slightly. He would have missed it had he carried on the path and not stumbled. Was this the situation that he was supposed to come upon? His shook his head once more, knowing he was wasting time as a female gasp rent the air above the scuffle. Looking swiftly around, he saw no one near even looked up at the sound, did they really not notice? Or was it just something they did not want to concern themselves with?
Taking off for the small alley like turning only a few steps to his left, he turned to find a group of five males completely blocking the female he could hear, but pride swelled within him, as he could hear her struggle and fight, even in the circumstances that proved she could not hold off them all at once. They were playing with her, and she knew it, but tried anyway. With a grin splicing his face, he cracked his neck and knuckles. He had not had a good brawl since his brother and he had gone up against the mountain of their friend Hamish.
Clearing his throat. The nearest male turned with a confused brow, and in less time than it took to recognise him, the male was upon the floor. His friend turned stunned to see his downed companion, but was quicker to move as a fist came at his face.
Finally, it was on, fists swinging and males grunting as flesh met flesh in a sickening thud. Below it was the muttering of a terrified female. And even with his mind on the fight, a part of him recognised the mutterings as English. The light lilt of her voice soothing an edge in him, and it made his movements smoother and more capable of hitting the marks he aimed for. Four on one was hardly fair for the males he had come upon. He had been trained since being a bairn to protect his clan, these men had obviously only ever fought for themselves. Using their anger at his interruption against them, he had another down in minutes, and the other three were edging off, much too soon for him blood to cool enough to let them.
As they finally fled, he was breathing hard, and turned to look at the first male he had downed scrambling to his feet, and just dodging Artair’s fist as he too quickly followed his friends, leaving one male still out cold upon the ground. The terrified female on the other side of the prone figure. Her long golden hair loose and tangled, covering her face in such a way. Muttering to himself about foolish males, and beautiful women, he walked slowly towards the lass. Not wanting to spook her further, and held his hands out to prove he would not hurt her. She took a step backwards, and her eyes flashed up to his. The eyes were wrong, and the hair to rich and vibrant to be the same. Intellectually he knew this, and her very face was younger, more innocent. But he could not stop the word as it escaped him.
“Sheena?”