Page 26 of A Fearless Rebel

Chapter Eight

“Mother!” Ava called out, pounding on the closed door. “Open the door.”

After a long moment, the heavy door was opened, and she entered her parents’ bedchamber and had to swallow to keep from gagging. The mercurial stench of blood and vomit was thick in the air, mixing with the pungent smell of whatever herbs the healer used.

There were several others in the room, but only the healer and his helpers surrounded the bed where her father lay.

Lady Mackenzie sat by the window, a handkerchief over her mouth and Alastair looked on from the corner.

Ava neared the bed and peered down at her father. If not for the fact that the healer continued cleaning a seeping wound, she would have thought him to be already dead. His skin and lips blended in an alarmingly pale shade of gray. His closed eyes were sunken.

Instead of the intimidating persona her father ensured to always maintain, he looked to have shrunk and disappeared into the bedding. Exposed from the waist up, she could see where the arrows had pierced the flesh, the wounds concentrated in the center of his chest. Three punctures in all.

“Did ye get all the arrows out cleanly?” Ava asked the healer who frowned at her but nodded.

After touching his forehead and noting that he was not feverish, Ava then placed two fingers at his neck. Her father’s pulse was so weak she could barely feel it.

There was little doubt in her mind that he was dying, but she kept the fact to herself. A strange sense of calm came over her and she wondered if it was good or bad. Whether her father lived or died should be upsetting and yet the sense in the room was more one of acceptance.

From where she sat, her mother leaned forward to see what Ava was doing. Ava touched one of the puncture wounds, testing it.

“Come away from the bed,” her mother said in a dry tone. “Allow the healer to do what he has to do to save yer father.”

Ava met the healer’s gaze. “There is nothing further to be done. Ye should allow him to rest.”

The healer’s shoulders fell in obvious relief. He would not be blamed for the laird’s death if he followed the man’s own daughter’s advice.

With little to do when she was young, Ava had spent weeks in the tutelage of her grandmother, who was a celebrated healer. It was said no healer could ever compare to the woman, who healed many from their deathbeds.

Although she rarely was called on to heal lately because her father had no trust in her abilities, she regularly met with the official healer to discuss the best ways to care for the ill and injured.

The healer nodded. “Bring fresh water and clean sheets,” he instructed.

Together with the healer, Ava helped wash her father and wrap him in clean bandages. He was then laid atop fresh linens.

The windows were opened to allow fresh air in, which her mother tried to argue against.

“Ye cannot allow it. The air will cause him harm,” she told the healer.

The healer led Lady Mackenzie to the bed. “Tis best ye say yer farewell. I am afraid there is little that can be done for yer husband now.”

*

Ava listened in when the Mackenzie council met. Everyone, including her brother, was much too preoccupied to tell her to leave the room.

The fall of Clan Mackenzie, the most feared group of warriors was swift. As soon as news spread of the laird’s death, it was as if a dam broke and, immediately, allies broke ties with them. There was little to do as they could not fight battles on every side.

Alastair did what he could to keep some of the smaller alliances but, for the most part, no one wanted anything to do with him.

It became evident that there had been clandestine meetings between lairds. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen in order to end the alliances and form their own.

Now with Clans Matheson, Macrae, Chisholm and Urquhart joining with a portion of the southern McLeods and MacDonnells, they became much too great a force for the Mackenzies to overtake.

Therefore, within weeks of Laird Mackenzie’s passing, Alastair inherited a much smaller, and weaker clan.

Ava entered the great room one afternoon to find her brother and one of their uncles, who’d become Alastair’s advisor, sitting at a table. She neared and waited for Alastair to take notice.

“Ye called for me?” Ava asked.