Ailéas. My name is Ailéas.”
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Bradley bowed his head as he closed the tent flap behind him and looked at her with his silver-gray eyes.
Given all the effort the man had gone through to save her life, Ailéas had finally decided to trust him. At least enough to tell him her name. If the English commander had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it long ago on one of the many times he’d had the chance. After her escape attempt, and despite the best efforts of the man to heal it, her wound had become infected, and she had teetered between life and death. The teenager had barely made it through, and she never tried to escape again. She remained in stony silence, simply trying to survive.
Bradley had tried everything to get her to talk. Every day, he tried to start a conversation, on every imaginable subject, each one of them futile. He’d explained to her that after everything she had been through, talking was the best thing to do. Ailéas didn’t share this opinion. For days, she simply stayed quiet and was content in her sulking. The day before, however, they’d had their first real discussion as the defensive walls she’d built up had started to come down.
The Englishman had come to find her, holding a handful of dice, just as he’d done for the past week. He’d explained the rules of the game of chance. At first, she’d resisted, but up against his insistence and his patience, she sulkily agreed to play. The other injured soldiers in the tent had died long ago. They were alone, and as the bone dice rattled, she finally asked the question she’d been wondering about for a long while:
“Why did you save me in Berwick?”
Bradley took the time to count the score before meeting her gaze. He didn’t seem surprised, as though he’d been expecting the question.
“I acted how my honor told me to act,” he said as he threw the dice, with a determined and sincere look.
Ailéas’s memories reawakened. The blood that followed in the light of the flames in the alley. The bodies of her attackers, the bandits of Berwick, that spluttered out of existence with a gargle. The unbearable pain in her abdomen and her hand reaching for the outstretched arm of the one who’d come to save her. Yes, he was sincere about it, but she felt like he was hiding something from her, because for a few seconds on that night, he’d almost killed her, brandishing his sword. But something made him stop.
“Something stopped you from…” she murmured. “I’m not stupid.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, crossing his fingers together in his lap. “And if I want you to trust me, I have to be completely honest with you.”
He stroked his gray beard and pointed to the teenager’s wrist, where a leather bracelet had replaced the bandage from the first few days.
“My birthmark?” she said, the confusion making the scar on her forehead fold up.
“That’s not just any birthmark. It’s the mark of fate. I know, I made the same face when I first heard about it. I even rolled my eyes. It was a very long time ago, before you were even born, I’d imagine. At the time, I wasn’t a soldier, and I traveled a lot. I had a thirst for adventure and danger. I visited the Highlands for a few days because it was on my wish list. At the edge of a river where I was fishing for salmon, a bear attacked me and left me for dead. I only survived because a group of Highlanders were passing and took me to their clan.”
Ailéas was captivated, just like every time she heard anything about the northern wilds, the clans, and her origins.
“When I woke up, the druid who had healed me made me promise one thing: to protect and help anyone who bore the mark she drew in the ground—the same mark you have on your wrist. Five years might go by, ten, it didn’t matter. It was a lifelong debt. It bordered on prophecy. I accepted, not really believing in the obligations of the elder. But when I saw you in the alley, her old face swam in my memory, and I knew what I had to do.”
The teenager pulled back the leather to look at the mark, an almost-perfect hollow brown circle with a straight line that ran a little up her arm.
A soldier called for Bradley with some urgent matter, and their discussion was cut short. Ailéas went over the story in her mind all night. She had never really believed in destiny. It was a vague and distant concept. But now she found herself face to face with the commander’s revelation, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the clan he spoke of might have been her own, before they were massacred.
She watched the old man who sat down in front of her and placed the wooden board and dice between them. The wind blew outside in the night air.
“Ailéas,” he repeated. “Thank you for finally sharing it with me.”
“After our talk yesterday, I thought I had nothing to fear,” she said with a glance at him, as though she was asking a question.
“That’s correct. I’ll start the game, after you beat me yesterday…”
He threw the dice.
“Double pair!” he said. “Off to a good start.”
Ailéas felt like he was doing everything he could to prevent her from bringing up the subject she really wanted to talk about.
“What’s going to happen now?” she said, seizing the dice.
“This section of the army will soon follow the advance guard and head north. It’s good timing, you’re better and you can walk.”
“Why would I come with you?” she said with an air of annoyance and holding the dice prisoner in her hand.
Bradley crossed his arms and looked at her in silence for a few seconds.
“Because you’re in danger,” he said calmly. “I haven’t told you to keep your head down all this time for no reason. I found out people were hunting you during the Battle of Berwick.”
The massacre of Berwick, she thought.
“Hunted? By who?”
“They call themselves the Lann Fala.”
“‘The Bloodied Blade?’”
“Ah, you know Gaelic. They’re a group of hunters and mercenaries. They’ve existed in England and Scotland for over twenty years.”
“Are they on the English side?”
Given their name, she doubted that was the case, but she couldn’t understand the link with the attack on Berwick.
“Have you ever heard of the Order of the Templars?”
The teenager shook her head before weakly throwing the dice.
“I’d be surprised if you had. They’re a very influential organization with influence in many countries. It’s not an English group, but they have been linked with King Edward since he’s been in power. The Lann Fala is their armed wing in Scotland.”
“But what’s all that got to do with me?”
“I have no idea, but whatever it might be, it can’t be good. The Lann Fala are murderers above anything else. Not kidnappers or ransomers.”
“And they’re still looking for me?”
A note of panic crept into her voice.
“Your description has been circulated around all the English commanders. I received it myself. They’re also looking for a young man. They say he’s your double.”
“Fillan?!” she exclaimed, her heart about to explode. “He’s alive?!”
“You know him?” He motioned her to be quiet.
“That’s my twin brother! We were trying to get out of town when I was attacked in the alley. Why didn’t you tell me he was alive?”
“I didn’t know you knew each other,” he said worriedly. “It seems he managed to escape.”
Ailéas was drowning in emotions. A warmth was spreading through her chest while her heart skipped a beat. Fillan hadn’t died in Berwick along with everyone else they’d known! The young woman almost leapt for joy at the old man’s neck. She was no longer alone in the world.
“I have to find him!” she said with glistening eyes.
“I’ve thought long and hard during your recovery,” he replied uneasily. “You’re only really safe here.”
“That makes no sense! You just said the English and the Lann Fala are collaborators, that everyone knows my description!”
“Has anyone ever come to attack you in this tent?”
No one had. Even when people had come to look after the other injured soldiers, no one had bothered her. Bradley had made sure of it.
“There’s no better hiding place than under the enemy’s nose,” said the old commander in a professor-like tone.
“But I’m healed! I can’t hide in this tent forever! Especially not if we’re heading north!”
“I’ve thought about that too. I thought about making you my personal healer. Given we’re in the middle of a military campaign and my age, it wouldn’t seem so strange.”
“Healer?”
“Do you have any idea what that involves? Do you know the basics and the herbs?”
“My master taught me, yes, but…”
“Well, it’s perfect then. I’ll teach you the rest, so the illusion will be perfect and you’ll be safe.”
Everything was moving too quickly. Ailéas felt panic taking over. She didn’t want to stay among the English, following their trail of war and death. She wanted to find her brother. If the destiny she’d learned the day before was real, it could only be a good sign for their reunion.
“My brother… if I don’t find him again…”
“It’s too dangerous for the moment. Much too dangerous!”
“I don’t care! I won’t stay here doing nothing! You don’t understand…”
“I understand perfectly, but think about it: you’ll put yourself in danger, and if you’re captured, you’ll put him in danger too. The Lann Fala won’t hesitate to use you to find him before they kill you both!”
“So, I just have to…”
“Wait it out. The war has only just begun. There’s too much movement, too much foolish bravery.”
“Wait?! For how long?”
He stared at her without replying, and the teenager understood that he didn’t know himself.
Ailéas was comforted to know that her brother was alive, but still felt defeated. What would become of him when he couldn’t even hold a sword properly? She feared the worst.
“It’s your turn to play,” said Bradley, interrupting her thoughts.
He was trying to occupy her mind, that was clear. She felt a wave of tears building in her eyes and she threw the dice with such force that it hurt her fingers.
She wanted to scream.