“Generations” by Linda N Merryman
Maggie McDonald tried to keep her voice steady as she relinquished the squalling infant to her maid.
“The gold should get you passage to the highlands. Agathe, “she swallowed a sob,” save him! For all that is holy, save my son!”
Agathe clutched the babe to her bosom. “Lady, will you not reconsider? The child needs his mother.”
“The fighting cannot go on much longer. What would Collum think to return, only to find both wife and child gone? No, we will find you, together. Now go through the tunnel, quickly!”
Through the stone arched window, Maggie watched the carnage below, anxious for any sight of her beloved. The clanging of steel grew louder as the fortress was breached. She held her head high as the soldiers dragged her from the castle, across the ramparts and to the edge of the cliff where several other women of the McDonald clan awaited the inevitable.
“Forgiveness, Lady.” His grey eyes matched the monotone palette of sky above and rocks and sea below.
“My husband…?”
“The Laird,” his gaze flicked away. “Dead, m’lady. At Kilwarlin.”
Maggie, nodded. Her heart had known. She turned to the sea, dashing against the rocks with fury to match that in her soul. She felt the hand in her back and did not resist the push. Instead, she flung her arms wide and in her mind, she embraced Collum again.
~~~
Aug. 17, 2015
Made it to Ireland. The ruins are fascinating! Wish you were here! C. McDonald.
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Nature Rules
by Linda N. Merryman
“Bring the prisoner!”
The summons echoed down the vast hall, filled with soldiers and workers. Queen SeangÚn ignored them all as they ushered in Luch the Grey, a miscreant caught pilfering castle storage.
“What defense ha’e ye, thief?” snarled Broc, the royal marshal. He always spoke for the queen. She never bothered with petty intrigues.
“I dinna ken…” stammered Luch.
“How can ye no ken this be the castle and these the property of Her Majesty?” Broc nudged the pile of withered bilberries with a long toe.
“They be castoffs. I dinna take many, only enough to feed m’bairns!” He wiggled his nose against a persistent itch.
Broc poked Luch in the chest with a sharp talon. “Royal stores are nae fer the likes o’ you! Ye ha’e admitted yer guilt and are condemned by Her Majesty’s court to die!” He licked his lips in anticipation. “Bind the prisoner!” he bellowed.
Damhánalla, the weaver, moved from her tapestry in the corner. She secured Luch with cord of her own making.
BOOM. The thundercrack silenced the court. Wind gusted, shredding Damhánalla’s web as a torrent of rain slashed down into the ruins drenching the moss-covered flagstones.
Broc Badger waddled on stumpy legs to dive nose first into his sett. The ant colony piled themselves into a raft to save their queen.
Luch gnawed at his bonds until they parted with a snap. He snatched the bilberries in his jaw scurrying for the safety of his burrow where his hungry mouslings waited.
Cloudwalker Series 