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“Aye,” Daar confirmed with a nod. “Like everyone else on this earth, even drùidhs have free will.”
“Then Winter still has the right to choose.”
“Aye,” Daar said, even while shaking his head in negation. “But if she chooses to renounce her calling, there will be at least a two-generation gap in our lineage. By the time a new drùidh is born in our line, it will be too late. My pine tree will surely die before then, and that would start a disastrous reaction with all the other trees of life.”
“Why can’t another drùidh come here and save yer tree?” Grey asked. “And ye can leave Winter out of it.”
“Because they’re all trying to protect their own trees,” Daar rasped in frustration. “Each tree is dependent on its own lineage of drùidhs to nurture it.”
“Then how were ye able to steal a root from Cùram de Gairn and grow it into yer white pine?”
Daar took a calming breath and dropped his gaze. “I…ah…Cùram’s lineage dates all the way back to the begi
Greylen dropped his chin to his chest, absorbing all that Daar had said. He quietly asked, “But it is Winter’s decision?”
“Aye. It’s her decision,” Daar said softly. “But knowing yer daughter, Greylen, do ye think she can turn her back on her destiny once she realizes the consequences? Is Winter capable of just letting the world come to an end?”
“Nay,” Grey admitted, hanging his head again for another interminable silence. He finally looked back at Daar. “Why are ye so sure Winter can save yer tree? She’s young and unschooled in the way of drùidhs.” He shifted uneasily. “And this rogue guardian? Who’s to protect her from him?”
“You will,” Daar said. “And so will I, however I can. And don’t forget Robbie. He is still a powerful guardian himself, Greylen. We’ll all try our damnedest to protect Winter. Hell, even that beastly pet of hers, Gesader, would lay down his life for her.”
“Ye sound more worried than confident,” Grey said, taking a step toward him. “Can we really protect her?”
Daar held his ground this time, his eyes softening with understanding as he shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, because I don’t know exactly who or what we are up against.”
“How do we find out, then?”
Daar continued to shake his head. “We’ll find out when whoever he is lets us find out. If he’s a rogue guardian, there must be a reason why he turned. But until his agenda is known, we might as well be wearing blindfolds on a moonless night.”
“Why haven’t ye gone to Robbie MacBain with this?”
“I have. He told me I must speak with you first.”
“Ye will not tell Winter without my permission,” Grey said, backing up his words with another threatening step.
Again, Daar stood firm and shook his head. “I have no intention of telling her anything. That’s your duty, Greylen. Once Winter comes to terms with who she really is, she will seek me out on her own.” Daar stepped closer himself. “I only ask that ye not take yer time about it, MacKeage. Once my pine tree falls, it might be too late to save the others.” He shook his head. “And I worry my tree won’t survive the coming winter.”
Grey blew out a frustrated breath as he stared at Daar standing by the fire looking old and feeble and nearly defeated. Grey suddenly felt just as old and equally helpless. He silently turned, opened the cabin door, stepped out onto the porch, and simply stood staring at the lake below as it glimmered in the early-morning sunshine.
“You’re still a powerful warrior, Greylen,” Daar said softly as he stepped onto the porch beside him. “You’re a highlander, MacKeage, with the strength and intelligence to help yer daughter through this. For as far as society has evolved since ye were born over eight hundred years ago, it still needs yer warrior’s heart to save it. That, and Winter’s powerful magic.”
Grey silently continued to gaze at Pine Lake, which was ringed by mountains draped in a mantle of colorful fall foliage.
“And ye have a small army at yer disposal,” the old priest continued. “To help ye in the upcoming battle. Yer wife will stand by your side, Greylen. And me. And Robbie MacBain. And don’t forget Grace’s sister, Mary, is still with us. That Mary is a snowy owl is an advantage, I’m thinking.”
Grey finally looked over at Daar. “I ca
Daar squinted up at him. “Cùram, I’m thinking.”
“But ye said it’s likely a guardian, not a drùidh.”
“Ye know that cùram is Gaelic for guardian,” Daar reminded him. “He’s both, Greylen.”
“But how can that be? Guardians protect us from you drùidhs, ye told Robbie. So how can one man be both? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Aye,” Daar said with a nod. “Ye would think not. But Cùram is a product of both a guardian and a drùidh, and they produced an heir who was unique and very powerful.”
Grey paled. “If a drùidh mates with a guardian, their grandchild is even more powerful than them?”
“Aye. But it also balances out,” Daar quickly explained. “Cùram might be a powerful drùidh, but he can’t use that power against humanity. Ah…not directly, anyway.”
“So ye think Cùram de Gairn has renounced his guardianship, and that he’s the one killing yer tree?”
“Indirectly,” Daar emphasized softly, turning to look out over the vista below. “Something has angered or hurt Cùram so badly that he’s turned away from his calling. But in doing so, he’s also negated a good deal of his powers.” Daar looked over and squinted up at Grey again. “And that’s why I’m thinking he’s trying to find another way to get what he wants.”
“And my daughter is about to step into the middle of the bastard’s anger and try to stop him?”
Daar nodded. “Aye. Winter was born with the ability to save us.”
“She was born a woman!”
Daar softly chuckled. “Aye. And that, MacKeage, is her greatest advantage. Being a woman gives Winter an i
Greylen found his first smile of the morning. “Aye. Grace has had me shaking in my boots more than once.” He quickly sobered, turned away, and strode down the porch to his waiting horse. After mounting up, he reined around to face the priest. “I must think on what ye’ve told me this morning.
Winter’s not going to like this any more than I do. She’s an artist, and all she wants to do is capture her beautiful animals and forest on canvas.”
“I am well aware of Winter’s wants,” Daar said, lifting his neatly barbered, white-bearded chin.
“Or are ye forgetting I’m the one who talked her into returning home from college?”
“I haven’t forgotten, priest,” Greylen growled. “Ye came close to getting your home burned down that day.”
“She was miserable, MacKeage. She didn’t belong in that world, and she knew it.” Daar pointed an age-bent finger at him. “And so did you. That’s why you and Grace drove all the way to Boston that very night, and packed up her belongings and moved her home.”
Grey shook his head. “Aye. I’ve never been able to deny Winter anything. Or any of my daughters, for that matter. But then, neither have ye,” he growled. “It was you who urged Megan to go to Canada with Wayne Ferris to study goose migration.”
Daar hunched his shoulders and lowered his gaze, brushing down the front of his black wool cassock. “I’m not a soothsayer,” he muttered. “I couldn’t foresee that the man was a blackguard.”
Grey urged his horse up to the porch rail, right up to the priest who had been interfering in his life for over thirty-eight years. “Then quit yer meddling,” he ground out. “Ye’ve done enough damage already. Ye stay up here in yer cabin and away from my family.”