Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)

My skin prickled in a familiar frisson of anticipation. All I had to do was to focus on the fact that this was a heist of sorts – and forget that I was returning to the place where I’d spent my deeply unhappy formative years – and I’d be fine.

Bob aside, we all knew exactly what we were doing. We were dressed in black from head to toe, camouflaged for the night and against prying eyes. I kept my body low as I wove my way through the foliage, avoiding the thorns and brambles which barred the route. Soon we emerged onto a thin path which snaked upwards. If I squinted, I could just make out the glimmer of lights up ahead. I hoped the Bull hadn’t done any drastic renovations in the years since I’d run away. Despite his wealth, he was a tight-fisted bastard so chances were that everything remained the same and I’d have no trouble finding my way around. I crossed my fingers just in case.

We skirted silently through the woods. It had rained recently, so each of us left distinct tracks in the mud of the path. It didn’t matter; it’s not as if we were actually stealing anything. It was unlikely that anyone would discover our footprints and think that a gang of highly skilled thieves had wandered up this way in the dead of night. All the same, we’d have to take care that we didn’t track mud into the castle. That would be a sure-fire giveaway that something was up.

It was a good twenty minutes before the border finally came into view. Just as with the Adair Lands, there was a massive flagpole with the Scrymgeour colours hanging loosely at the top. The flag was there for more than just show; the magic that kept the border in place stemmed from it, bolstered by ancient spells and wisdom lost to almost all Sidhe. The trolls who normally maintained these borders were well aware of it, though. Sorley had given me a detailed – and rather unnecessary – history, as well as bestowing on Speck the means to unlock the magic to permit entry.

If the trolls had still been in place, I doubt we’d have managed to sneak in but the trolls were now at Clan Adair. All we had to deal with were a few dozing Scrymgeour servants. The presence of the Scrymgeour Sidhe inside the border helped bolster the magic but Speck was strong enough now to beat it.

I counted four border guards: a warlock, two humans and – surprise, surprise – a Sidhe. I wondered what he’d done to piss off the Bull and end up here on guard duty. He was the only one of the four who seemed fully alert. He scowled at his companions from time to time, especially when the warlock let out a loud snore. As I stayed low and watched, he strode towards the warlock’s slumped body and raised his foot, as if preparing for a sharp kick. Then he grimaced and seemed to think better of it – though he still looked distinctly unhappy.

I considered. It was imperative that we slip through unnoticed and it didn’t appear as if the Sidhe boy was going to drift off any time soon.

‘You’re going to have to do it, Tegs,’ Brochan murmured in my ear. ‘It’s the best way.’ Unfortunately, Brochan was right. Short of waltzing up to the Scrymgeour Sidhe and clocking him on the nose before he managed to raise the alarm, I couldn’t see an alternative. I wasn’t convinced that this course of action fitted with my pacifist morality but I’d brought us here and I had to step up to the proverbial plate.

Taking a deep breath and holding the air in my lungs, I concentrated just like Morna had taught me. If I focused hard enough and used the meditation techniques I’d been practising, I could almost visualise the swirl of magic within the Sidhe’s soul. I had no idea what his Gift was and I wasn’t stealing from him because I wanted it for myself – there was another method to my madness.

Bit by bit, I tugged, grasping first at a single thread of his Gift and pulling it inside me as if my body were a magnet. As his power left him and filled me, I gasped inadvertently. The Sidhe would have heard me if he hadn’t already started to feel woozy. He clutched at his stomach, then at his head and groaned faintly. I slammed on my magic brakes; I didn’t want to seriously hurt the poor bugger and neither did I want to steal his Gift in its entirety. He might be a Scrymgeour but he was a stranger to me and I couldn’t completely destroy him.

‘He’s gonna chuck,’ Bob said knowingly.

I gestured to him to keep quiet. He huffed in irritation but did as I asked. We watched from the shadows as the Sidhe staggered backwards then spun round and began retching violently. I winced. Shite. So much for all that pacifism.

The sound was enough to wake his dozing companions. The warlock muttered in alarm and scrambled to his feet. The two humans looked groggier but they got up and stumbled over to check on the Sidhe.

‘Now. Speck,’ I hissed.

He slipped forward, moving soundlessly past Brochan and me and up to the flagpole. Even through the darkness I saw him gulp. It was rare that Speck was our point man but, given how much his recent proximity to the Foinse had affected his magic, he needed to get used to it. All the same, I watched him with my heart in my mouth. If any of the Scrymgeour sentries turned round, he’d be done for.

The Sidhe continued to retch, falling forward onto his knees. I was starting to suspect he was making a bigger deal out of his nausea than was absolutely necessary. I’d stolen partial Gifts from others and they’d not reacted this badly. I gnawed at my bottom lip and prayed I was right. The humans were hunkered down, one on either side of him and both facing away from the border. The pesky warlock, however, was kneeling in front of him. All he had to do was lift his head and he’d catch sight of Speck pulling the scrap of Adair fabric from his pocket and pinning it to the base of the Scrymgeour pole.

‘Go, Bob,’ I said urgently.

For once the genie chose not to argue. He spun in the air, transformed himself into a large bluebottle and zipped forward. As Speck murmured out the words to let us pass the border, Bob landed on the Scrymgeour warlock’s ear and buzzed loudly enough to be an irritation. Scowling, the warlock stood up and batted him away but Bob wasn’t about to quit and shot towards his ear again. The warlock cursed and waved his hands around, shaking his head like a dog emerging from a dip in the sea.

The tightness in my stomach eased slightly as Speck signalled. I sprang forward, angling my body to the left to veer round the Scrymgeour group. With the others on my heels, I wasted no more time; I acknowledged Speck with a bob of my head as he joined us and we pushed past the border.