Jennifer M. Leonard

Highland Witch

Prologue

 The moon rises from the inky depths of the sea to take its sentinel position over the cliffs. Brutal and frigid wind assaults the coastline, tearing over the cliffs roaring up from the shore, slamming into the sheer wall, of centuries old stone. The stars scintillate the night sky like torches lighting the way. Electricity charges the bitterly cold air, almost crackling with expectation. On a craggy bluff in the Highlands of Scotland, an impenetrable fortress rises up toward the night sky, an everlasting reminder of the wars of men. Proud turrets and high walls present an imposing sight.

Outside the protective walls, in a shrouded glen stands a solitary figure. Braced against the biting gusts she raises her arms in reverence to the luminous moon. Light spills down like champagne from a chalice to caresses her. She is hidden by the colors of night. Her kirtle the color of the darkest eve was made from fine velvet. The mantle is of a midnight blue, the same color as the night sky when lit by the Northern Star. It sweeps about her in gentle folds like a lover's embrace, protecting her from the cool air and the prying eyes of the guards who walk the wall.

Her eyes, the color of heather, are filled with awe and determination, glistening with excitement. Lowering her arms she flings back the hood of her mantle offering a riot of auburn locks to the wind. The frantic air whips her hair into a halo of fire billowing about her. From her belt she pulls her athame. The sacred knife used in all rituals was familiar in her hand, helping to calm her.

In a tradition older than time, she casts her circle. Her voice rings out into the dark recesses of the forest,

I cast this circle, once around,

All within by magic bound.

A sacred space, a healing place,

Safe from harm by Spirit’s grace.

            I invoke Thee and call upon Thee,

            O’Mighty mother of us all.

            Full, and bright in all her glory.

Rich, milk white Goddess of mystery and light.

Come, blessed Moon,

Lady of Magic.

Pour your light over me,

Fill me with your fire.

Blood and bone, bright with your power,

Witch and Goddess are one.

As she chants the wind carries her voice up to the watchman. Not sure if it will anger the new God and not willing to anger the old gods, they cross themselves while praying that her work will help protect them when they march into battle. Unaware of the watchful eyes, Caitrìona closes her circle thanking the Goddess for her guidance. Pulling her cape around her for comfort as much as protection from the night, she gathers her tools and heads back down the foot path.

From the shadows on the edge of the glen, a figure steps from the cover of trees. His eyes follow her with a predatory stare.

Chapter One

The clatter of horses and armor rang up from the lower bailey, echoing off the keep walls. The sound filled Catriona with dread. The sound of war was always dreadful and war was approaching, flowing in on a tide that could not be stopped, not even by the moon goddess Catriona had called upon. Throwing off the warmth of her bed, Cat rose to face the day. Her maid, Sorcha, was already moving about the room preparing her clothes. Nearly the same age as Catriona, she had been her maid for the past five winters. They had grown up together and Sorcha could sense the doubts in her mistress. Sitting in front of the fire on a low bench, Cat began plaiting her hair in braids. Today, she would accompany the men into battle under her father’s banner. As the laird’s daughter, she felt this was her duty. As a priestess, the people wanted her there to protect their loved ones.

 The armor her father had commissioned before his death had been cleaned and laid waiting. The firelight glimmered off the surface casting eerie shadows on the wall. With no thought to the cold, Cat opened the curtains to let in the light hoping it would dispel the feeling of unease. She had fond memories of the armor. No other lady in the land had armor or would be allowed to wear such a thing out and about, but her father had not been normal in his ideas.

Worried that his daughter would be unable to defend herself and not having a son to train, he had sought to teach Catriona all he would have taught a son, going so far as to teach her how to read and cipher, though he’d instructed her to keep her skills secret. She had loved the time they spent together and had applied her natural abilities to learn as much as possible. It pleased her to make her father proud.

She often wondered if he had the family gift of sight and had foreseen his own death. Since a small child she had known things before they happened and her father had always been understanding. He had encouraged her to learn the old ways and taught her how to fight. Did he know he would be leaving her alone? Had he been preparing her for this fate all along?

Descending the stairs, Catriona made an attempt to clear her thoughts. She would need to present a calm front to those in the great hall. As she entered, a silence fell over those gathered to break fast. Her uncle rose and crossed the hall to escort her to the table. “I wish you would stay behind, lass.”

“Uncle, we have discussed this, nay we have argued this and my decision stands. I will not send my people to war while I hide behind these walls!”

“I’m sorry I upset you."

“You didn’t upset me. I am sorry I was unkind. You are worried for me, and I love you for that, but can you understand how I feel? My people are willing to go to war for me, to keep me safe, and they’re willing to stand behind me as laird. The honor alone that I was not passed over for a male cousin is enough for me to give them everything I have. They are willing to fight to keep me from being forced to marry and forfeit my lands. For that, I am willing to give them my life if need be.” Knowing that there was no way to sway her, her uncle bowed his head in acquiescence.

The hall once again came to life as people started moving about and talking quietly. Cat feigned interest in her food to keep the mood light. Moving the bread and meat about her trench she thought of how things had changed. The great hall had once been a place of joy. Always her father and uncle sitting by the fire discussing the crops or the village. Her cousins drinking with the dogs lying at their feet waiting for scraps to hit the rushes. Maids bustling all over trying to catch her cousins attentions. And she would sit content to listen and watch. That time had passed and now it was a place of planning and preparing. 

For her it was hard to explain. Catriona knew her uncle's thoughts well. He had entreated her for a fortnight to stay home, to wait for her fate to be brought to her. He didn’t understand that she needed to face her fate, to ride right up to it and fight for herself, for her people.

The men were ready within the hour. Leaving the keep, Cat mounted her horse and took her place next to her uncle in front of the main guard. She heard her uncle mutter a nasty word under his breath. The guards’ horses began to snort and side step; she knew her pet had been spotted.

He worked his way through the horses and effortlessly leapt to perch behind Catriona. Her mount used to this did not  even twitch. Another gift from her father, just as unsuitable as her armor, her pet, a highland wildcat. His fur blends with the dapple grey of her stallion. In the snow he could be invisible and he was guaranteed to keep unwanted suitors at a safe distance. The other reason for bringing Curaidh was that he was capable of hunting in the dark so they would not go without meat.  As the animals settle back down, the procession began winding its way out of bailey and through the village. Her eyes filled with tears that streamed unchecked down her cheeks. All the villagers stood on the path waving her colors and cheering.

She closed her eyes briefly and in a humble whisper asked, "May the goddess grant me strength!” With this, she opened her eyes the tears banished by will and straightened her spine. She waved and smiled determined not to let her people see her fear.

As they traveled further from the castle, she watched the mural of her land pass by. The village was small but there were no cottages in disrepair. The pathways were clear and even; the farms were brimming with crops and animals. Her people were well cared for by her and her family. What would happen to them if her fight was lost? What would happen to her?

Chapter Two

By nightfall they had reached their first destination. Catriona was exhausted but camp had to be made.

"Curaidh, hunt." This command was all the animal needed. He quickly stalked into the dense forest to find game. Cat turned to survey the area they had chosen for camp. It was a small clearing surrounded by a wooded area. She could hear a stream even though it was not visible. They would have fresh water. There were men setting up tents and caring for the horses. It would not be a comfortable place but with the grace of the Goddess it could be a safe one.

"Uncle, I am going to the stream and then to ask for the blessing of this camp. I will return shortly,"

"Take two men with you." When Cat began to protest, her uncle simply ordered the two men he trusted most to go with her. "Alec, Naill, accompany your cousin."

Catriona was not pleased but her uncle meant well. He had chosen wisely, by picking her cousins, his sons. They would protect her and not question her practices, since they too had been raised with the old ways.  Walking into the tree line she all but disappeared. The two guards gave her enough privacy for her to answer natures needs, then accompanied her to the stream. Here she filled her sheep's bladder and cleansed her face and hands in the frigid water. Crossing the stream she climbed a steep path to an outcropping that overlooked the clearing. The two men hung back not wanting to intrude and slightly frightened to get too close.

Once again she cast her circle and invited the Moon Goddess in. As she asked for protection for her people and safe passage for their journey the wind began to whip. The light surrounding her flared and she saw him. He watched her with eyes that seemed to see more than was natural.  A gasp escaped her before she could stop it. With determination she planted herself in the center of her circle, grounded in the moon's light and gave challenge.

"What do you want? This circle is closed and will not allow you entrance." She could feel her guards at her back, just outside the circle, and prayed they stayed where they were.

"I come to offer you my aide. Two lairds fight for your land, each wanting to add to their own. I have no land and would offer you my pledge to keep your people free in exchange for your hand."

"What makes you think I would accept one laird over the others?"

"You wish to keep your land free, your people happy, and prevent their deaths that war will surely bring. I can give you that." As he said this he stepped closer until he was a mere breath from the circle. Now illuminated by the light Cat could see him and she truly knew fear.

He was a Saxon. Larger than even her father, he stood at least as tall as the door to the great hall and was near as wide. His hair, though dark, was long with braids like the Norsemen wore, and his beard was long and thick. His eyes seemed to glow in the night. A clear blue, like a sparkling gem, they seemed out of place on such a battle scarred face, but they were cold like the ice of his homeland.  Catriona felt their chill in her bones.