Beneath a Dark Highland Sky: Book #3 Read Online Free PDF

boy. “Show us, show us!”
    “It involves the use of a special, magic smoke,” Enguarrand said. He began to chant and wave his arms. There was a small crackling pop. A cloud of smoke enveloped Enguarrand and his son, and floated about the room. When the smoke began to thin, the crowd gasped in collective delight, for Jehanne lay on his back, hovering several feet in the air in front of his father.
    “’Tis truly amazing!” James cried.
    Enguarrand moved his arms again and Jehanne was slowly righted and lowered to the floor. Father and son bowed to the King.
    “I find I like this French magic,” James said. “Will ye consider staying on at my court as my royal magicians?”
    The ladies squealed in delight and the men murmured.
    “’Twould be an honor, yer Grace,” Enguarrand said, bowing again.
    The King raised his goblet high. “Here’s to many years of magic!”
    All raised their goblets high. But Malcolm knew the king would not remember his words of warning today and, if his vision proved to be true, James had not many years to live. Five summers hence, on a Sunday, James of the Fiery Face would not be thinking of this day or roaring bronze lions and magic. He would die just a few months short of his thirtieth birthday, and the lion would roar no more.
    Malcolm had seen the English-held castle of Roxburgh in his vision, a four-tower fortress that lay between the River Tweed to the west and the Teviot to the east. He knew over one hundred and forty years ago, on the night of Shrove Tuesday, James Douglas and a party of men clad in black surcoats to disguise their armor, crawled on their hands and knees in the freezing mud toward the castle. They pretended to be black cattle, grazing quietly around the castle perimeter. Then, with ladders made from hempen ropes and grappling hooks of iron to catch on the battlements, they scaled the castle walls. They captured the main English fortress of the central borders with a garrison of a hundred men.
    Over the years, the castle changed hands a number of times between the English and Scottish, and within its walls kings were married and future kings were born. And in five summers, a king would die outside its walls. The Scots would once again take the castle from the Sassenach but lose their king, and James’ queen, the pious Mary, in her grief, would have the castle demolished. He’d seen it in his dream. He’d heard the great, jarring sound of chunks of stone crashing down and thudding as it was torn to ground level.
    Malcolm felt sad, for James the Second seemed to be a good and strong king, a forceful king who had finally defeated all the men, Douglas and otherwise, who had tried to control him since he’d been a wee lad.
    James stood and Malcolm eyed the jeweled dirk that hung from his golden belt.
    “I ha’e grown rather tired of all this talk of my future for today,” James said. “I think, Malcolm, now I will tell yer future. What think ye of that? I will tell the future of the lad who foretold my great victory at Arkinholm.”
    “Yer Grace?” Malcolm said.
    King James smiled. “In the future, ye will be a vera great man, a man who will lead his clan into battle and who will be a great fighter for Scotland. Ye’ll battle the Sassenach and help us defeat them! Like a king, ye will learn nae to be afraid of yer future. A great fighter, like a king, must nae fear. And today I will do something to help assure yer future. For yer vision of the battle of Arkinholm and foretelling my victory over the whoreson Black Douglas, I will reward ye. First, I give ye my jeweled dirk. Keep it well and dunna be afraid to use it, for ‘tis a king’s dirk.” He removed it from his belt and handed it to Malcolm. “It has ne’er failed me.”
    “Yer Grace, it is far too rich a gift for me….”
    “Take it, lad. I want ye to ha’e it. ‘Tis a special blade, for with it I drained the life from William Earl of Douglas.”
    Malcolm admired the fine craftsmanship of