A plague doctor.
A vendetta.
A birthright.
And a magic lost to time.
Eoin Niloofar has returned home under the guise of a plague doctor to exact a most devastating revenge on one of the Isle of Skye’s largest clans.
Chapter 1: At the end of his date, the dark bloom of ink sent the man in the deep red leather cloak scrambling for the blotting paper. His nib needed cutting.
Chapter 2: The inn door hinges creaked, drawing their attention to the shaft of light brightening the dim room. Fearchar sucked in his breath. “Get tae…plague…”
Chapter 3: Fearchar led Eoin to the croft entrance as the first sprinkling of rain descended on the hillside. Swept and well kept, the sill stone gleamed beneath small autumn flowers, absorbing the leftover warmth of the sun. He noted a few simple medicinal herbs and cold-weather vegetables tucked under rambling grass heads and shrubs. A hook in the granite lintel held a hung stack of meat drying nets that Fearchar pulled off and handed to Eoin.
Chapter 4: Dry grasses whispered in the warm wind. The sun seeped along the edge of the horizon. Sand scattered beneath his shoes. The bird at his arm shifted, the creature’s hooded head twisting at the noise, sending the knotted tassel bobbing.
Chapter 5: Late into his second month in Fearchar and Seonaid house, a woman knocked at Seonaid’s door one day to Eoin’s surprise. He flinched in distaste, recognizing her. She was older but still prim and smug. Seonaid turned tail and closed the door to the bedroom before the woman could see her.
Chapter 6: The weeks passed, uninterrupted of any more phenomenal events. Eoin kept busy with his clients that made their way to Seonaid’s house. He travelled into town with Fearchar to remedy a few of the old women who had taken to their beds with complaints of arthritis and winter cough.
Chapter 7: The house lay dark save for the banked fire. Eoin eased himself in through the door to be greeted by Seonaid and Fearchar cuddled on the floor in front of the hearth. They looked up at him and smiled as he entered. Eoin ducked a nod of hello.
Chapter 8: He had considered more than once her suggestion to find employment at a big house. Then he was reminded of his impediment at every turn. It would never work.
Chapter 9: The sun seeped through the seams of the shuttered window and door as Eoin awoke the next morning. He lazily observed the sleeping couple wrapped around each other. Drifting to the realization he had taken them into his dreams and memories, he glanced about the space, free of the peripheral blinders he had worn for months. He released his hold on Fearchar and Seonaid, though he savoured the myriad textures that ran beneath his bare fingers as he did so. He hoped they had not experienced some of his darker memories.
Chapter 10: “Dad! Dad, dad, dad, dad, da-“
Chapter 11: eonaid and Fearchar watched time slip by. Plants grew, and the seasons changed from dry to wet. Callum and Albin grew out of their baby fat.
Chapter 12: Finished with lunch, Seonaid and Fearchar took up their positions on the rug once more. “You have surely led a remarkable life, Eoin.” Seonaid drank from her cup.
Chapter 13: “Seonaid! She’s beautiful!” Fearchar strolled in through the door with pride. His wife raised a sceptical eyebrow. Eoin snorted at the man’s enthrallment.
Chapter 14: “Arash died in his sleep last night, father,” a mild voice echoed in the void, the rich accent dripped into the darkness.
Chapter 15: Eoin released Seonaid and Fearchar. His head throbbed behind his temples, and his stomach made to greet the back of his mouth. His hearing turned fuzzy, his vision tunnelling. He collapsed face-first onto the floor between the two. They looked down at him then to each other. Eoin ground his teeth with frustration and horror. That had been a terror he had not meant to revisit.
Chapter 16: Eoin, bleary-eyed and numb, brought the room into focus. He had never been in it before directly. The rag rug smelled of sheep. He blinked again, his eyes focusing on his left bracer, then the wall of the room. There was sparse decoration in the room save for a box bed, carved trunks, and the myriad-coloured rug.
Chapter 17: Eoin sat at a well-lit desk overlooking a sunny courtyard. A variety of apothecary materials, flasks, burners, droppers lay scattered across it’s polished surface. A mortar and pestle stood unused at the far end of the table.
Chapter 18: Seonaid and Fearchar’s heads spun into the inky blackness.
“Ye bloody well could’a died, ye eejit!” Fearchar screamed at his employer.
Chapter 19: I’m so sorry, Fearchar, Seonaid. I’m out of practice. I – I –
Chapter 20: Eoin peeled his eyes open and yawned. Hands splayed across his chest. The tingling of the void nagged at the back of his head. He blinked, bringing Seonaid’s face into focus. She had tucked up under his left arm, happily wrapping her thigh over one of his. He blinked again, trying to clear the cobwebs of his dreams away. Turning his head, Eoin found he was using Fearchar’s outstretched arm as a pillow. They both were still dead asleep. He laid for a time, allowing his mind to wander as he contemplated the ceiling rafters.
Chapter 21: “So, what’s in the box?” Seonaid asked the following day after breakfast. Eoin had finished plaiting his hair out of the way, leaving it to hang for the day. He was in his blue breeches, having left his shirt off. He despised the Southron garment. It was constricting around the throat and pressed his torc in all the wrong places. His other clothes hung washed and drying at the fire.
Chapter 22: Snow and ice dripped from thatch eaves, creating slick, muddy tracks in the melt. Rodney’s birlinn docked on the second day of frost break. Thin sheets of ice dances around the hull, squeaking a thin tune over the thunk of wood and slap of rope. Gulls cried in a clear morning, greeting a pale pink sky.
Chapter 23: Fearchar and Seonaid stared up in awe at the massive arched gate at the bottom of the mountain passage. It soared to heights Eoin’s memories had not clearly conveyed. They sat in a covered cart waiting as the line of merchants and travellers entered and exited through the pass. The guard in his uniform and Eoin in a pure white shroud rode on the front bench. A gate guard turned from the cart and rode his horse at a gallop up the path toward the top of the mountain.
Chapter 24: Clothes lay scattered about Mirza’s room. Eoin, exhausted as he was, woke to a low sun. He lay spread out on the prince’s bench, rugs having been moved to leave him bare to the cold tile. Mirza’s mantle blanketed across him protectively. Fearchar lay asleep on his wife’s lap on the floor. His hair had come loose from its ties, braids cascading across her lap in a fiery river. She rested her head on her arm on the bench, breathing softly.
Chapter 25: They entered Eoin’s chamber. It was a fourth the size of the prince’s, but comfortable. His pharmacy lay in the room next door to it. He had allowed Fearchar and Seonaid a peek inside. A year since he had seen the inside of those two rooms, and memories flooded him with a sense of loss and need. Most of his herbs would have to be harvested all over again, but it was worth the sacrifice. His short apothecary cabinet rested on the desk. He’d restock the materials the next day.
Chapter 26: “My father will not be amused. We should be in the hall waiting for his arrival. Is the bird necessary?” Mirza motioned Eoin, Seonaid, Fearchar and the servant through one of the many rooms leading away from the feast. “You and your flock.”
Chapter 27: Eoin breathed a sigh of relief. The moon shown a brilliant, mesmerizing white. Stars blinked and sparkled in the night sky, a trailing band of white and pink clusters stretching from one edge of the tall walls to the either. A warm breeze shifted the large leaves of the palm trees. He stepped into the water, warmed by the sun through the day. The pool was encased in a small courtyard. Planters of pungent flowers hung in alcoves and sat in corners, perfuming the air with their intoxicating scent.
Chapel Orahamm 