Children Of Myths, Act One: Scotland

A painful decision

William had been carried bodily to the inn where the two McFaddens had lit the fireplace by throwing in as much wood as possible to create a nice big, lively flame.
They had also taken thick woolen blankets and brought him warm milk to drink sip by sip.

“Can you move your hands?” Fergus had bent down to examine the skin, numb from the cold, but not frozen.

"Yes, I can" the blacksmith took a sip from the bowl to warm himself up from inside as well. “But I feel exhausted. As if I had dragged a heavy cart up a mountain."

Sitting in a corner outside the building, Safie and Artica were consoling Bakhur, who was still crying both from shock and from almost losing the man who had given him a chance to start a new life and recognized his talent for crafting precious metals. He had taken him as an apprentice and helper, not as a slave.

The door then opened, and Father Aidan came in with the Banshees to check that he was okay and that the curse hadn't been transmitted somehow.
There were no black streaks on the skin, just a color that was turning blue, like any person who has been in the cold for a long time. However, the druid-priest wanted to give his contribution by tracing runes with charcoal on his friend's hands.

“I ask your permission to help him warm up” he turned to the three sisters, who nodded and placed their hands on his shoulders and head as Aidan prayed in Gaelic for the spell to succeed.

The symbols on the hands dissolved into dust, but William's skin returned to color, and he sighed with relief.

"Are you feeling better?"

“Yes, Father, yes…” He moved his fingers slowly and then cocked his head. “Is Bakhur alright?”

"I am here!"

Bakhur came through the door and stood in front of him “I'm sorry… I shouldn't have stood still. I had to do something!”

"Laddie..." The blacksmith looked at him with gratitude mixed with concern "You wanted to save my life, for that I'm grateful. But you were risking yours, and I wouldn't have forgiven myself."

“Ana ‘asf, William”

“You don't have to apologize for anything. You are a boy who has been through hell; yet this world didn't make you a bastard like them."

There was a hug between the two of them, Bakhur crying and William reassuring him that everything was fine, and he would be well soon.
The others watched that moment. The three youngsters were moved, while the adults were thoughtful. Especially Fergus.

The innkeeper was standing with his arms folded against a wall and his eyes moved continuously from Bakhur to Artica until he muttered something under his breath and snorted.

“Aidan…” he called softly “We need to talk, let's go outside.”

The two men got out of the White Partridge and walked to the main square. The first crossed his arms, he didn't like the other's expression.

“I don't want to be seen as the asshole here” Fergus began “But what have I said last time?”

“Fergus…”

"What. Have I. Said?!" He repeated in a louder voice.

Aidan frowned, just as angry as he. “And what were we supposed to do? Leave him to his fate? He needed this! To find some decent people to cling to!”

“They've come for him, don’t you realize?! And they were disguised as merchants!” Fergus then heard another voice calling for him from a short distance away: Brendan was marching towards him with eyes wide and angry.