Chapter Three

Alaric got up as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning, hopping out of bed and donning his trews and tunic. He rinsed his mouth with water, using the tooth cleaning cloth, ran his fingers through his wild hair, then headed down the stairs to the hall to check on his sire and brother.

Dyna sat at a trestle table while her three bairns ate their meal. There were a few others about, but the air was full of tension.

He understood why. Last eve, he'd checked on his sire and brother before he went to bed. Neither had been in good shape.

"Good morn to ye, Dyna. Any changes for either one?"

Dyna shook her head, her long, white-blonde plait moving with the swing of her head. "Aunt Jennie is on her way. They hope she'll be here by this eve. We need another healer and soon. Yer poor mother is exhausted."

He nodded. "I'll check with her. I can watch over them while she sleeps. Any word on patrol?" He was ready to go on the morrow. As soon as Els woke up, he'd leave with no worries. If Els woke up.

"Maitland should be on his way. Probably arriving with Aunt Jennie. He was already heading this way. We're assigned to the Borderlands again, not far from Berwick. I'll explain later."

"Who will be joining us for this trip?" Their last group had been small, so he was hoping for a larger one this time. He preferred at least eight on patrol.

"Only six. The three of us plus Eli, Tevis, and Wenna."

He let out a low whistle. That was smaller than he'd hoped for. He instantly translated the information to the important pieces. Three archers, three swordsmen. Could be worse. There'd been only four once, and they'd remained unscathed.

He was pleased to hear Eli was joining them. He enjoyed their verbal sparring. It kept him alert. "What about Astra or Hagen? We could use more archers." Dyna's siblings had both been trained in archery.

"Ye cannae be serious about Astra. She prefers a sword to a bow, and they are both terrible on patrol. They cannae pay attention. Please dinnae mention them to my sire. He'd send them along, and they arenae safe in my opinion."

Alaric smiled, knowing how protective Dyna was of her two younger siblings. Still, her misgivings were serious concerns, so he let the idea drop. "'Tis a fine group. I'll go see my mother." He grabbed half a loaf of bread from the sideboard along with a small cup of mead on his way to his sire.

Stepping into the healing chamber quietly, he wasn't surprised to see his mother mopping Els's forehead. His father was trying to rearrange himself in his bed, cursing with every movement. He was in the actual bed in the chamber, with Els in the cot, small for him, but he probably was unaware of anything at the moment.

"Mama, I can watch over them. Get some rest." His mother stood and gave him a quick, forced smile, her eyes tired and slightly red. After all her years, Gracie Grant was still a beautiful woman. She had some gray mixed with her blonde strands, but unless you were standing in the sunlight, it was difficult to tell the difference. Her blue eyes held a sadness this morn, which he wished he could eliminate, but the only thing that would return them to their usual bright countenance would be for Els and Da to be hale again.

"I will go to my bed as soon as yer sisters come down. They promised to sit with them for a wee bit. Aunt Jennie should be here a bit after high sun, I hope. But she's getting on and doesnae travel as quickly anymore." Tears misted her gaze. "I must be prepared for her arrival."

"Mama, ye seem more frustrated than last eve. Aunt Kyla will prepare for Aunt Jennie. Dinnae worry about that. What is it that has ye upset?" His mother looked frazzled, which he didn't see often, especially in the healing chamber, though caring for his father couldn't be easy.

"Yer sire's leg. I keep trying to fix it, but 'tis crooked. I cannae set the bone straight, no matter how hard I try. I know how it pains him. And yer brother continues to sleep no matter what I do. I need Jennie or Brenna or Brigid or Jennet…" She swiped at the tear on her cheek as angrily as he'd ever seen her do. "The bump on his head is no' going down at all."

He held his arms open, and his mother fell into them, crying quietly. His mother was as strong as anyone, but even she needed to let everything out once in a while. He whispered, "Aunt Jennie will fix them both."

"I pray ye are correct, Alaric. Please excuse me," she said, pulling back with a pat to his shoulder. "I'll go close my eyes. Come find me if either worsens. Aunt Kyla said she would bring in a platter of food soon."

He held out his piece of bread. "Eat it along the way, if ye please?" His mother was too thin, and he knew how stressful the act of healing was for her.

His father had always said that Jennie, Brenna, and Jennet were natural healers, but it wasn't that way for his mother. She struggled to be perfect. Aunt Ashlyn helped her many times, and so did Maryell and Merelda, but none came to it as naturally as it did to the other three.

"Many thanks to ye, Alaric." She left after she kissed his cheek, but then she paused at the door. "I know Aunt Jennie will help them."

No sooner had the door closed than his sire began to balk. "Gracie, come help me fix these blasted blankets, will ye, please? I cannae move them with my leg so fragile and my arm." His bed was positioned so he wasn't facing the door and hadn't noticed his mother leaving nor heard their conversation. Even that was unusual. His father had a second sense when it came to his mother.

Alaric set his drink down on the table in the center of the chamber, then took the stool next to his sire's bed. "I'll help ye, Da. I sent Mama off to bed. She's exhausted."

His father cursed and said, "I know she is. I tried to tell her to go earlier, but she's a stubborn woman."

Alaric arched his brow at his father.

"So I can be stubborn too. But ye better prepare yerself. Ye'll be taking my place soon."

That thought threw him, so much that his entire body jerked backward. It was several moments before he could reply. "I'm no' replacing ye. Da. Yer leg is broken, ye are nae passing on. Ye are still the chieftain. Ye and Uncle Connor. Yer wisdom is needed, no' yer leg."

Alaric stood and pulled the blanket clear off his father and worked to replace it more comfortably.

"Hmph," his sire grumbled. "I think 'tis time for new blood in the lairdship. We shall see." The man cursed three more times before Alaric managed to get the blanket arranged the way his sire wanted. "Mayhap my arm isnae broken. It feels better today."

"But no' yer leg?"

"Nay, my leg pains me something fierce. Even the blanket on it causes some pain. But I'm glad yer mother went to bed. She doesnae know how to straighten the bone and her attempts to fix it were killing me." He looked up at Alaric with a sheepish expression. "I tried no' to holler, but it was impossible. I fear I've hurt her feelings."

Alaric's mind was stuck on his father's previous comment. He was way too young to take over for his sire. Besides, everyone knew that it was Elshander's place to take over the chieftainship for his sire when he was ready to move on. Alaric didn't like the thought of becoming laird of Clan Grant.

Nay. Not for him. He was too young, too inexperienced.

"How is Els? Has he awakened at all, Da? Did ye hear him moan in the middle of the night?"

"Nay. He hasnae made a sound. Even when I was hollering at yer mother."

Alaric glanced over at his brother. There had to be something he could do to help him.

"He looks the same, but I'll see if I can wake him up at all. Mayhap he needs a loud voice to snap him out of whatever spell he is under."

His father glanced over at his eldest son, the sadness on his face evident. "He should have awakened by now. Tell me about the bump on the back of his head. Ye felt it before. See if it's shrinking yet. Yer mama says it must shrink before he'll awaken."

Alaric got up and moved over to his brother's bedside. He pulled a stool close, settling on it. He took in his brother's quiet breathing, pale color, and matted hair. Reaching for the back of his head, he decided the bump was too well hidden for him to see it clearly, so he turned his cheek to the side.

Els groaned but said nothing. Alaric froze, giving Els the chance to speak if he could, but he said naught.

His sire called out, "How does his wound look?"

"Not good, Da. 'Tis still partially covered in blood…"

"That doesnae matter, so Aunt Brenna told me once. I recall when Struan had one the size of half a walnut and it was soaked in blood. He could still talk. How big is it? 'Tis the important part of it."

Alaric probed through his brother's golden locks, finally finding the injury. The oval shape was nearly as big as a cow's full teat. "Papa, 'tis bigger than it was when I brought him in." It had definitely grown in the hours since he'd first noticed it.

"Pinch him. See if he reacts."

Alaric scowled. If he dared to pinch his brother at any time when he was hale, Els would have given him a quick punch in the belly. Pushing his stool back a wee bit, he pinched his leg.

Nothing. This time he tipped his head, peering at his brother to see if he was faking his sleep. That last pinch had to hurt. This time, he pinched his belly a little harder.

No reaction at all.

"He's no' feeling it, is he?" his father called.

"Nay, no reaction at all, Da. I'm sorry." He lifted one of Els's eyelids to peer into his deep blue eyes. He'd done this multiple times when they were young, and Els would jump at him. One time, Alaric had screamed like a lassie, and Els had fallen out of bed laughing.

Not this time.

The door opened, and Joya entered, carrying their youngest bairn, a wee laddie just a year born.

"Greetings to ye, Alaric. Has he awakened yet? Please give me some good news." Their son had his mother's red hair, sticking up in the middle of his head at present. He gnawed on a piece of crust.

He shook his head and stood. "Sorry, Joya. He's sound asleep. I just tried to wake him but he doesnae react."

She sat on the stool Alaric had just vacated and said, "I'll put his laddie on his belly. That may awaken him." Joya kissed Els on the cheek, then set the lad on his belly. "Come, Seamus. Wake up Papa."

The lad looked at his father's face, grinned, and leaned forward, tapping his chest and cheek. But Els did not react.

The door opened and his two sisters entered, Maryell and Merelda. The two were inseparable, and he was pleased to see them today.

"Mama went to sleep," he told them. "Wake her when Aunt Jennie arrives."

Then he left. It was just too disheartening to stay there.

How did healers go on so? Especially when the view was so dim.

He feared his brother would never wake up.