Margaret came to them, a sword in her hand.―Do step ye into the star. Ye each stand on a separate star point, aye?‖
Cautiously, the three did as she asked.
―What now?‖ Carrick asked, holding tightly to the canvas bag full of items they had deemed necessary for the coming trials. Olivia and Hamish each carried their own full bags.
―Ye do nothing,‖ Mary replied solemnly as she handed each a sprig of pungent rosemary for protection.―Be ye still and concentrate on yer lady,‖ she told Carrick.―We shall do the rest.‖
The three were silent as the Henderson sisters began a low, melodic chant. Carrick felt the hair rise on his arms in response to the fog that gathered and swirled. It was similar to the sensations he felt when Morag sent him to Cat.
Olivia, dressed in the old-style gown she had worn for Cat‘s wedding, began to feel nauseous and eerily chilled. She watched closely as Margaret used the sword to draw a circle around the perimeter of the star, closing the travelers within it.
Strange, ancient music engulfed the three; the skirl of bagpipes rising, accompanied by the beating of bodhrans that pulsed with the blood in their ears. The intensity of it so painful, Olivia nearly cried out.
Hamish and Carrick noticed her distress and took her hand on either side. They held hands, squeezing tightly as the music and chants blended into one cacophony of vibration and rendered them unconscious.
Carrick roused himself slowly, mentally checking every muscle and bone for signs of injury. The only aftereffect he felt was a slight ache in his head. Definitely not as bad as the last time he traveled, he thought. If he had, indeed, traveled successfully.
He raised himself on one arm and gazed about him. There was the pool, the seeing pool, a few feet away. And there, on the other side, was a prone Olivia; Hamish next to her.
He was home! he thought as he got to his feet. They‘d done it! All that remained was to be certain they had come to the correct date, then on to find Cat. The thought of seeing her soon made his heart dance. Best get everyone moving. He urged himself on to where the others were waking.
―Did we make it?‖ a groggy Olivia asked, as she shakily got to her knees, careful not to trip on her skirts.
―We are in the proper place, aye,‖ Carrick answered as he extended a helping hand to her.―No certain of the date yet. Here,‖ he said as she got to her feet.―Let‘s help yer grandda.‖
Hamish stood with their assistance and shook his head.―That was quite the experience,‖ he reflected, smoothing his rumpled jacket.―Are ye both all right?‖
―Aye,‖ Carrick answered, gathering their bags and readying himself to leave the pool.―I am thinking we will go to thewitch‘s cottage. If all is well there, we can go on to Beinn Fhithich.‖
―Sounds good to me,‖ Olivia agreed, putting the bag over her shoulder.―Let‘s move our assess then.‖
―Olivia.‖ Hamish grabbed her arm.―Need I remind ye of what Carrick and I counseled ye? Ye must speak like a Highland lady, no a twenty-first century tart. Aye, lass?‖
Embarrassed, Olivia bowed her head and looked at Hamish. ―Aye, grandda.‖
―And what else, ye elf?‖ Hamish wanted to be certain Olivia would not give them away.
―You and I are Jenny‘s grandda and sister come from Edinburgh.‖ She had memorized the story they would tell and the identities they would assume.
Carrick had told Hamish of Jenny‘s grandfather and sister, who had the same first names. He told them how Jenny‘s grandfather had taken her three years-younger sister to Edinburgh with him after Jenny‘s mother abandoned the family. Jenny stayed with her father, William MacHendrie, in the Highlands, and had not seen her sister since the latter was a tiny child.
Hamish checked with the clan genealogist and discovered they died in 1745. That they were buried in Edinburgh was the only information they could gather. If Cat remembered them, she would be devastated,
Cautiously, the three did as she asked.
―What now?‖ Carrick asked, holding tightly to the canvas bag full of items they had deemed necessary for the coming trials. Olivia and Hamish each carried their own full bags.
―Ye do nothing,‖ Mary replied solemnly as she handed each a sprig of pungent rosemary for protection.―Be ye still and concentrate on yer lady,‖ she told Carrick.―We shall do the rest.‖
The three were silent as the Henderson sisters began a low, melodic chant. Carrick felt the hair rise on his arms in response to the fog that gathered and swirled. It was similar to the sensations he felt when Morag sent him to Cat.
Olivia, dressed in the old-style gown she had worn for Cat‘s wedding, began to feel nauseous and eerily chilled. She watched closely as Margaret used the sword to draw a circle around the perimeter of the star, closing the travelers within it.
Strange, ancient music engulfed the three; the skirl of bagpipes rising, accompanied by the beating of bodhrans that pulsed with the blood in their ears. The intensity of it so painful, Olivia nearly cried out.
Hamish and Carrick noticed her distress and took her hand on either side. They held hands, squeezing tightly as the music and chants blended into one cacophony of vibration and rendered them unconscious.
Carrick roused himself slowly, mentally checking every muscle and bone for signs of injury. The only aftereffect he felt was a slight ache in his head. Definitely not as bad as the last time he traveled, he thought. If he had, indeed, traveled successfully.
He raised himself on one arm and gazed about him. There was the pool, the seeing pool, a few feet away. And there, on the other side, was a prone Olivia; Hamish next to her.
He was home! he thought as he got to his feet. They‘d done it! All that remained was to be certain they had come to the correct date, then on to find Cat. The thought of seeing her soon made his heart dance. Best get everyone moving. He urged himself on to where the others were waking.
―Did we make it?‖ a groggy Olivia asked, as she shakily got to her knees, careful not to trip on her skirts.
―We are in the proper place, aye,‖ Carrick answered as he extended a helping hand to her.―No certain of the date yet. Here,‖ he said as she got to her feet.―Let‘s help yer grandda.‖
Hamish stood with their assistance and shook his head.―That was quite the experience,‖ he reflected, smoothing his rumpled jacket.―Are ye both all right?‖
―Aye,‖ Carrick answered, gathering their bags and readying himself to leave the pool.―I am thinking we will go to thewitch‘s cottage. If all is well there, we can go on to Beinn Fhithich.‖
―Sounds good to me,‖ Olivia agreed, putting the bag over her shoulder.―Let‘s move our assess then.‖
―Olivia.‖ Hamish grabbed her arm.―Need I remind ye of what Carrick and I counseled ye? Ye must speak like a Highland lady, no a twenty-first century tart. Aye, lass?‖
Embarrassed, Olivia bowed her head and looked at Hamish. ―Aye, grandda.‖
―And what else, ye elf?‖ Hamish wanted to be certain Olivia would not give them away.
―You and I are Jenny‘s grandda and sister come from Edinburgh.‖ She had memorized the story they would tell and the identities they would assume.
Carrick had told Hamish of Jenny‘s grandfather and sister, who had the same first names. He told them how Jenny‘s grandfather had taken her three years-younger sister to Edinburgh with him after Jenny‘s mother abandoned the family. Jenny stayed with her father, William MacHendrie, in the Highlands, and had not seen her sister since the latter was a tiny child.
Hamish checked with the clan genealogist and discovered they died in 1745. That they were buried in Edinburgh was the only information they could gather. If Cat remembered them, she would be devastated,
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