Night Visitor Read Online Free PDF Page B

time of that holy saint were said to have the way of turning the riddle come upon them in later life.
    And he had heard of this defrocked priest who hunted the still-folk. It was said that he used evil sorceries to find his prey.
    Perhaps this wraith was his answer after all. Had she not first appeared at the same time the MacColla’s people had entered the MacIntyre lands? Perhaps she had been sent as a message that he would soon be traveling away from Glen Noe.
    If that was the case, he realized with a pang, then she would depart this night and be seen nevermore. Odd that the thought of her leaving made him irritable and even a little sad.
    “I am honored to go wi’ ye,” Malcolm said with a quick nod, wishing the conversation over. “Ye plan tae depart in the morn?”
    “Aye, as soon after dawn as may be arranged.”
    “Then I’ll go at once and see tae mine own preparations.”
    “As you like.” MacColla nodded back, his eyes still speculative. “Perhaps there will be time for you to play for us again later.”
    “Mayhap.”
    Malcolm didn’t wait for his chief’s dismissal, but turned and hurried in the direction of the place where he had last seen the apparition walking. Perhaps he could catch a final glimpse of herbefore the moonrise. He never saw her later in the night, unless it was in his increasingly fevered dreams.
    He traveled from Glen Noe with only his plaid, his pipes, and the sunshine as his load. He had a silver dirk and sghian dubh, but fortunately the MacColla had asked him to bear no other arms aboard the ship; his pipe song, the MacDonnell said, was his greatest weapon.
    This was true, of course, but he had long made it a habit never to carry weapons made of cold iron because of the repugnance it held for the still-folk.
    Though they were nearing Duntrune Castle where bloody battle would ensue, his thoughts were not upon the struggle ahead. Instead he contemplated the possible purpose of the golden-tressed apparition appearing in his life. By his estimation, she should have left him yestereve; yet though he had not found her in the dark of the night, she had again been out walking when dawn lit up the sky.
    She had paced beside the MacColla’s men as they approached the loch, hair loose and sparkling as if under a noonday sun, though the sky above was cast over with grey. Malcolm had needed every fiber of will not to stare at her openly as she strolled with her magic box toward the softly frothing water’s edge.
    He wondered if she would actually board their boat, but like all spirits, she seemed unable to cross over water. Instead, she had set her box upon its long-legged sticks and peered out over the shore as though enthralled with the wrack and spindthrift that gathered there. Soon, there had come the expected flash of light and then, to his great disappointment, she was gone.
    Malcolm exhaled slowly. It was surely madness to think on her. If the MacColla knew of his distraction, he would likely order him bound to a holy stone until Saint Fillan saw to his release from delirium.
    Ah! But what sweet madness had him in thrall! He closed his eyes and let the refreshing wind of the Loch Crinan blow over him, teasing his unbound locks and slipping beneath his belted plaid. It was more pleasant than contemplating what lay ahead. He did not doubt that the MacColla’s machinations would win them Duntrune Castle, but what should become of him after, he did not know, except that he sensed his days in Scotland were numbered at less than a score. The senses that showed him the quickest path on a moonless night told him that another road awaited him.
    He hoped that it was a way to a new and better life in some other land far away, but if it was the “low road” for him, he supposed he could bear it if this golden wraith walked beside him. Strangeas she was in her manner of dress, it seemed to him that she left nothing to be desired in a female companion.
    Malcolm grinned suddenly.
    What lunatic