Highland Sorcerer

  Shaw felt the knowing gaze of the ethereal Fae bore into him like a carpenter’s auger. Averting his own gaze, Shaw stared determinedly at the enormous stone carving, which resembled Gilfillon so strikingly, sharp nose, long sloping eyes, he may as well just turn to the lithe Fae's scrutiny.

  Heartsick, he looked instead to the last remaining cluster of his people who awaited their turn to slip through the shimmery veil that led into the Shadowrood.

  They hemmed around the luminous gateway, young and old alike, with their spines straight and stiff. Many clutched meager belongings or herded goats and sheep through the passage. Pride in his people streamed through his veins.

  They had been prepared for this, knew it was a possibility once it became known the Witch of Alduein had taken their High Sorcerer.

  A proud people, Clan Limont understood their duties to earth and magic and what would happen if dark magic overcame the clan with each of their unique gifts and traits, as a whole.

  A small boy tugged on his mother's arm, cheeks wet with tears. "Nay, mam. I dinna want to go. I want to stay here."

  Another ache bruised Shaw's heart. Aye, he was the leader who forced children from their homes and all that was familiar to them. He was supposed to be their protector, not this. Never this.

  Gilfillan's long slim fingers curled over his shoulder. "You are choosing the right pathway. 'Tis a law of nature. All things eventually run their course. Even magics. Men's hearts are once again turning to greed and war. The time of greater magic within your world is at an end. ‘Tis time to return it to its rightful realm. Come little brother, relinquish your burden and be at peace." The Fae smiled gently, a boy’s face with the depths of a wizened aged man’s eyes. He nudged Shaw toward the glimmering gateway where less than a handful of his people remained. Donnan met his gaze, his features blotchy and resolved. The old warrior had returned without the younglings. He had not been able to reach Edeen and Col in time. They were gone, lost to him.

  "Come, brother," Gilfillon’s voice whispered like leaves floating on the wind.

  But Gilfillon was not his brother. Shaw's heart shredded beneath a grief so profound his chest felt like a beast had clawed it open.

  "Come." The Fae gestured.

  "In a moment," Shaw snarled, his chest heaving, then more quietly: "In a moment. Give me time." This was right. Sending the clan to safety was right. He was never more sure of anything. But to leave his entire family…? And to the devices of a destructive, ruthless witch. He had saved his people, but mo nighean, at what price? Col’s and Edeen’s faces swam before his vision.

  The Fae nodded, let his hand drop and looked out into the surrounding forest. "Ye have your moment. Treasure it well for we cannot risk leaving the gateway vulnerable to the dark evil that will arise at the High Sorcerer’s final turning. The threat is too great. Once ye pass through the stones, Shaw Limont, we Elders will seal the Shadowrood forever closed.”

  Chapter Eighteen