The Stone of Destiny Page 3

  What a dramatic change from last night, thought Ailsa. It was as if they had never been running for their lives. Indeed, she couldn’t even see the place where Harris had been cut. She peered at his side, but the skin was blemish free. Harris snickered, having caught her looking at him for the second time. Feeling the need to explain herself, Ailsa pointed a finger at his side.

  “You’ve completely healed.”

  “The perks of being a mythical creature.”

  “Sure.” Ailsa nodded woodenly, not quite knowing how to respond, and turned to Iona. “So, do you want to tell me about this super-secret adventure you’re on? Or will you have to kill me?”

  “You are obsessed with us killing you,” cut in Harris. One of the fish was cooked by now and he lobbed it at Ailsa who caught it in one swift movement, impaling it on a stick.

  “Eat that and listen up,” he ordered, then turned his attention to his sister. It seemed that she would be the storyteller.

  “The King is dying,” started Iona.

  Ailsa sat up a little straighter. “I hadn’t even heard he was sick—”

  “You wouldn’t; it’s being kept a secret. Eilanmòr is surrounded by countries poised to invade. Avalogne in the North. Mirandelle in the South. You have rich lands that other countries could claim and many people they could sell. If an enemy found out that the throne was weakened. But there is more of a threat inside the country.”

  Ailsa’s blood chilled. “What threat?”

  Harris spoke from where he sat in the corner. “Nicnevan.”

  The way he said the name, it was like something foul had crawled into his mouth. The name rang a bell inside Ailsa’s head, but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it.

  “Who is Nicnevan?”

  “Nicnevan is the Faerie Queen. King Connall MacFeidh rules the mortals of Eilanmòr, but Nicnevan rules all the fae across the continent. Or rather, did. Twenty years ago, she was chained to a tree and her magic diminished. Since she was betrayed, she hates all humans. However, as long as there is a human on the throne of Eilanmòr, she cannot harm them. If she lifts a hand against one, she will feel all her power bounce back against her.”

  Iona leaned forward from where she was sitting. “It’s why we are here, Ailsa. When the King dies, Eilanmòr will need to crown his son, Prince Duncan. But they cannot do that without the Stone of Destiny.”

  She blinked. “The Stone of Destiny?”

  “It’s a mythical stone,” Harris explained, “that is always held by the Kings of Eilanmòr during their coronation. It helps protect them against evil forces. The last time a king of Eilanmòr was crowned without the Stone, he and half his army died in a cursed battle.”

  Iona barely stifled a whimper and Harris’s eyes flicked to her. The selkie girl bit her lip before nodding at her brother to continue.

  “But more than that, it was used to bind Nicnevan to a tree twenty years ago. It is said that the Stone belongs to Nicnevan by birthright, but it turned against her because of her evil deeds. It helped her human lover restrain her and it provided greater protection to the royal family. However, at the time, it was deemed so powerful that it had to be hidden.”

  “By our lovely aunt. Who told only one person where she hid it before she died,” interrupted Iona.

  “Who?” asked Ailsa.

  “Me.” Harris winked at her and smirked.

  Iona sighed before continuing. “We must retrieve the stone before King Connall dies, so Prince Duncan can be crowned while holding it, therefore gaining the protection against evil and, in particular, Nicnevan.”

  Harris plucked out the next cooked fish from the fire and took a bite.

  “But here’s the rub,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Nicnevan has her dark little minions out looking for it too.”

  “Well,” said Ailsa slowly. “I haven’t really seen any faerie folk before you got here.” Up until yesterday she had mostly passed it all off as children’s stories.

  Except for the thing in the woods.

  “You’re too far south. Nicnevan’s influence doesn’t extend down here. Good fae tend to keep to themselves, so you won’t have seen many of them either. But now that King Connall is weakened, her reach is extending. They’ll be more active.” Harris leaned back against the wall and surveyed Ailsa. “What we need is someone to watch our backs, be our guard.”

  “There’s a village about two miles away?” offered Ailsa.

  Harris gave her a devilish grin. “Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far.”

  Ailsa frowned. “You don’t mean me?”

  “Sure. You’re pretty scary as humans go. You brought down those Avalognians fairly easily.”

  She stared at Harris for a moment before barking a nervous laugh. “Are you joking? I’m not an assassin—I had to get good with a throwing axe or I wouldn’t have eaten. You really think that I can protect you from faeries that are trying to kill you? They’d probably turn me into a doorstop before I could even pull out a weapon.”

  He chuckled. “You are severely overestimating their power. It’s all tricks with faeries. Keep your wits about you and you’ll be fine. Anyway,” he continued with a grin, “faeries are told horror stories about women like you.”

  Ailsa shook her head in disbelief and turned to Iona who just shrugged. “I think you’re perfect.”

  “It’s funny,” said Ailsa, “But I was sure this morning when I woke up that I was the insane one, but it turns out both of you are off your heads. What makes you think I would want to come with you?”

  “Nothing I guess,” shrugged Harris, cleaning his nails. “Adventure maybe? The chance to see the world? Or maybe the chance to tear someone a new one if they look at us the wrong way?” He leaned forward and tilted his head. “Or maybe you’d like to be useful? Accepted? Maybe you’d like to have friends?”

  She felt the blood creeping into her cheeks. Who does he think he is?

  “You are an idiot,” growled Ailsa.

  “Please?” said Iona, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we would be incredibly grateful. Just until we get to Dunrigh. You’ll be paid.”

  Ailsa paused. If she could make a bit of coin, she could buy up some stores of food or even some materials to make the cave a bit more comfortable.

  “How much?” she asked suspiciously.

  Iona’s eyes had lit up. “You can name your price. You would have the thanks of not only our family but also the royal family of Eilanmòr.”

  Ailsa ran a hand through her hair and stared at the back wall.

  “Could you just give me a moment?” She still wasn’t sure if she could trust these people, or their story. They’d proven they were really magical creatures—she was fairly sure they couldn’t have faked Harris’s transformation or the rapid healing of his wound—but it was much more likely that they were swindlers who would slit her throat and rob her blind, than nobles on a quest for a mythical stone.

  Harris and Iona returned to eating their fish, but she knew that they were waiting for her decision. She kicked a pebble with her toe. The last time she had been near a town or city, she had been driven out by a mob because of her face. However, that was when she was younger and weaponless. Wouldn’t it be gratifying to see not fear, but respect, on their faces? The bodyguard of foreign dignitaries? She rolled the idea around in her head, testing it. They did say she could name her price.

  “Urgh. Fine. But if I have to put up with that one—” she jabbed a finger at Harris, “—talking half as much crap as he has so far, then I want the right to stuff something in his gob to shut him up.”

  “Done,” said Iona while Harris pretended to look hurt.

  Ailsa stood up. “When are we leaving?”

  “Whenever you like. The day is young, though, and we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Fine, let me pack some clothes and food. And Harris?”

  “Yes?” He tossed his fish bones into the fire.

  “I think you should go scavenging fo
r some clothes first.”

  “Am I too revealing?” He covered his chest with his large hands in mock modesty and laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to get all flustered now.”

  “You’ll be the one getting flustered when I throw my axe at you.”

  He grinned. “Ooh, I do love a strong woman.”

  Ailsa scowled and stalked outside to grab some supplies.

  Chapter 6

  It turned out that one of the raiders was around the same size as Harris, and while the sleeveless shirt was a little revealing, it would do for now. Unfortunately, the boots he had stolen seemed to be a couple of sizes too big. Altogether, with Ailsa’s blanket and the Avalognian’s shirt and shoes, he looked a mess. A cold mess. Harris didn’t seem to mind, which made Ailsa wonder if he might be cold-blooded.

  While watching Harris raid the dead bodies, Iona helped Ailsa collect some food from her garden. If I’d just had more time, I could have cured the deer meat, Ailsa thought to herself.

  “You know, I never asked,” said Ailsa, “Why do you have clothes, but your brother doesn’t?”

  “I was a bit more prepared, you see,” answered Iona. “He wasn’t supposed to come onto land with me. He was supposed to escort me to Eilanmòr, then tell me where the Stone was. But then the Avalognians came. I thought it would be better if we stuck together.”

  “So, you packed your dress?”

  A faint blush tinged the girl’s skin, sweeping down from her hairline. “Well, when we turn back into our human form, we have on whatever we were wearing when we turned into seals.”

  Useful, thought Ailsa. A sudden thought occurred to her and she had to try her best to keep in her laughter. “So, Harris was naked?”

  Iona cleared her throat, a smile playing on her lips. “Better not to ask with that boy.”

  Ailsa left Iona to finish picking berries so she could pack. In truth, she didn’t want either selkie watching her pick through her meagre belongings. She strode to the back of the cave and pulled out a spare pair of trousers that she had stolen from a young fisherman a while back; he had decided to take a swim and charitably left his clothes over a tree. She packed these along with a shirt, her lavender soap and another knife in a leather satchel she had found. She turned to go, but then paused. On a makeshift stone shelf was a modest box where she kept the few possessions she had managed to hold onto from her childhood: her mother’s comb and scarf and a tiny doll made from sticks and cloth, held together with string. She carefully removed the box and deposited it into her bag.

  “We’ll need some form of transport,” called Ailsa as she walked back down the path towards Iona.

  “Don’t worry. There are horses waiting for us about two miles up the road.”

  Ailsa raised an eyebrow. “You planned to wash up here then?”

  “A beach further up, but yes, more or less. I spent some time in this part of Eilanmòr when I was younger…” Iona stared off to the sea. Her eyes swept over the beach. Ailsa waited, expecting more from the story but she appeared to have lost track of their conversation. She was oblivious to her brother sauntering back up the path. When he reached them, he gave Iona a little shove, ending whatever memory she had been reliving.

  “Okay, brave and fearless bodyguard, better lead the way.”

  Harris picked up her bag and gave her a nudge too. She snatched it back from him and set off, hearing the swish of grass behind her as he and Iona followed. She turned right along the barely visible coastal track. She made an effort to stay a little way ahead of her companions, allowing them to converse in whispers as she took in the view.

  The last time Ailsa had been along this road, she had been cold, starved and persecuted. The pattern had always been the same. She would find a barn or old building to squat in for a few nights, eating leftovers someone had thrown away, or killing a rabbit. Really, she had been a help to the farmers who were always trying to rid themselves of the pests. They always seemed to think she was a bigger pest, though. Some villagers would send her on her way with a loaf of bread and a warning not to come back. Others would give her a black eye or a swift kick as a parting gift. No matter whether they were sympathetic or aggressive, the message was always the same: changelings were bad luck and should stay away. And so now, at nineteen years old, Ailsa had been scraping by—alone—for five years.

  Two years ago, she had been building a fire in a ruined cottage when some people from the nearby town had arrived and thrown a bucket of water over her and the glowing embers. She had risen without a word, collected her pack and then made her way to the road. As she passed, she had bared her teeth at one of the men. He had jumped back in fear. She smiled now at the memory. That fear had saved her countless times since. No one wanted to see if the stories about faeries stripping flesh from the bones of grown men were true.

  She had set off that evening, heading further south than she had ever been. Holding her chin high the whole way, she walked all night. About forty minutes from the nearest town, she had come across Buthaid Beach. It met all her prerequisites for a good home: no people, plenty of food and no forest.

  Now she was leaving. Would the world have changed in two years? She doubted it. But she had changed. She was stronger, faster and smarter. Would she be less frightened? At least now she knew that she could justify the fear that men felt when they saw her. In fact, she supposed she looked even more terrifying now.

  Though maybe Harris was right. Maybe by escorting her two companions, she would be seen differently. She was useful. Maybe someone would see how well she had protected them and would offer her a job?

  Don’t think like that, Ailsa chided herself, you’ll make sure they don’t get murdered, then go back to where you belong. No one is going to think you are useful.

  The trio marched on in silence, listening to the crash of the waves against the shore. The path wound like a snake across the grass, rising over the hills, leading to the top of some cliffs before turning inland towards the nearest settlement. With one last backwards glance, Ailsa left her home, sure that she would be back before the month was over.

  Chapter 7

  The village was little more than two houses and a farm, but it looked empty.

  I wonder what happened to the owners, Ailsa thought, shuddering as she peered in the abandoned windows. It reminded her of another house she had found in a similar state a few years ago. His house should only be another twenty minutes away. She shivered from the cold, dark memories.

  Seemingly oblivious to the oppressive loneliness of the place, Iona seemed cheered. “Look!” she cried, pointing to the back of one of the dwellings. As they approached, Ailsa could see two horses tied up loosely in a garden. The horses were grazing in rings around the stakes where they were secured. Some hay had been laid out for them under the cover of an old shed roof, the siding of which had blown off long before.

  Iona approached one of the geldings to stroke his nose, while Harris poked his head into the structure.

  “They’ve also left us some food, money and clothes.” He held up a bulging, brown leather bag.

  Ailsa eyed the chestnut horses with trepidation. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

  “Don’t worry, you can ride with one of us.” Iona looked between Ailsa and Harris. “I think you better come with me. Wouldn’t want you two fighting and scaring your mount.”

  “We wouldn’t fight, would we, Ailsa?” He grinned and sidled up to her. “We’re best friends!” He moved to slip an arm around her shoulders, but she squeezed out of the embrace.

  “I think I’ll ride with your sister.”

  “It makes more sense anyway,” said Iona placing a saddle on her horse’s back. “We’ll weigh less than if Ailsa joined you.”

  “Yeah, because your horse will be lucky if he can carry that fat head,” muttered Ailsa, but she looked off innocently when Harris narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Ailsa, give me your knife.” He stalked over to her and held out a hand.
<
br />   “Why in Beira’s eye would I do that?” she exclaimed, peering up into his face.

  He smirked and leaned in. “What if I say please?”

  “What if my knee found the place between your legs?” Ailsa smiled sweetly up at him. “Or do selkies even have anything to damage there?”

  He choked on an incredulous laugh.

  “Please, stop fighting! Ailsa, may I have your knife? I think I better cut a slit in my dress so I can ride.”

  “Well that’s why I was asking.” Harris shrugged his shoulders and lowered his voice. “And for the record, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to what is between my legs. If you’re still curious, I can show you any time you like.” He winked suggestively at her and stepped away. Ailsa made a particularly unladylike gesture then gave the blade to Iona, who quickly cut through her skirt.

  Finally, they were ready. Iona swung up into the saddle and reached down to help Ailsa, whose heart was thrumming with nerves. She did her best to hide her shaking fingers by winding them around the other girl’s waist.

  “How far do we need to travel?” she gulped when she was finally secure.

  Harris pulled himself into the saddle of the other gelding in a graceful move. Ailsa had to clench her jaw to prevent it from popping open.

  “The King is in his castle in Eilanmòr’s capital, Dunrigh. It’s a full day’s ride to the North.” said Iona, patting Ailsa’s hand in reassurance. “We’ll stop at an inn tonight and continue our journey tomorrow. We should arrive around four in the afternoon.”

  That doesn’t sound too bad, Ailsa thought. Maybe she’d even be back home within the week, if they let her ride the horse back.

  Chapter 8

  “I never want to ride a horse again.”

  Five hours later, Ailsa unhinged her arms from around Iona’s waist and collapsed off their mount. She was not used to riding and the journey had taken its toll. Her thighs were burning and she was freezing. She tried to walk, but stumbled and, to her distaste, Harris had to catch her.