I am 696 years old.
I was born in February of 1301, on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. That is all I
know of my true being. I was found by Colin Sinclair of the Clan Sinclair
near his home, Dunvegan Castle, when I was about eight months old. He and his wife, Cara, took me in as their own, they also had a son, Tristan. My
mother was staying with her family, the Clan MacLeod, while my father
fought with William Wallace. We lived in Glenelg, MacLeod land, at Inverne Castle. Father wanted Mother with family while he was not there so he would not have to leave his wife and young children alone and subject to attack.
They moved from Sinclair land a few years after they were wed because my maternal grandmother fell ill. After she died in 1298, they stayed on at mother's request to be nearer her family and avoid a long tiresome journey back to Tormod (TOR-ro-mot) Castle, in northern Scotland, for when she bore my older brother, Tristan. It was just as well, a year later, Father
joined Wallace. A year later, he found me on a short visit home; then
another five until our brother Sean was born. I loved my brothers dearly.
Tristan and I always had a special bond, I was always tagging along with
him.
In 1310, Father came home for what we thought was good. He had been injured and came home to convalesce. With him came a man whom I had felt something different about from the beginning. He looked at me rather oddly also. He was tall, brooding, and appeared to be in his early 30's.
Little, did I know, he was much older.
His name was Ian Sinclair, a distant relative from my father's clan. He took to my brothers, and me especially, from the beginning. Ian began teaching Tristan and me to wield a sword. But because I was only nine, he fashioned a wooden sword so that I could manage to lift it. Ian continued to teach until Father was well and then traveled back to Sinclair land to see his family, so he led us to believe.
By the winter of 1313, Father was gone. No one thought Father would leave again. Ian had come back, talked to Father, and a few days later, they left again to join Robert Bruce. We would never see Father again. He died at Bannockburn in 1314. We had heard that Ian was also killed, but he arrived at our home the next year. In time, I would know the true story.
Ian took to helping Mother raise us and took up teaching Tristan and me the sword again. As I learned and got better, he would add lead weight bit by bit so I could eventually handle a real one. When I turned 20, Ian gave me a Scottish claymore, which I have to this day.
It was midsummer, 1325, when I died and became Immortal. It was getting dark, and Ian had not returned from his hunting. Mother sent Tristan to fetch him. While they were gone, three thieves stole into the house. I
heard my mother scream from the kitchen and plead with them to take what they wanted and leave. This did not satisfy them. The leader asked who else was in the house, she told them just Sean, who was ill and in his chambers, and Caitrin, Tristan's expectant wife. Sean was fine, so I knew that I was to hide and tell Sean. A woman my age, especially unmarried, ran a greater risk of being raped and even killed.
I hid in the secret passages behind the fireplace in my chambers. I could hear footsteps coming down the hall. When the thief saw no one in my chambers, he went on. I came out when I thought he had gone back downstairs. I fumbled in the dark and knocked over a chair. I froze in my steps, the sound of my beating heart was sure to give me away if the chair hadn't.
After a few moments, thinking I was safe, tried to make it back to the
passage just in case. I wasn't quick enough, one of the thieves stormed through the door. When he saw me, I saw the evil gleam in his eyes as he
locked the door behind him. My sword wasn't near, so I tried to fend him
off myself. I could hear a commotion downstairs; Ian and Tristan's
voices; the sound of swords clashing. The thief attacking me was much
stronger than I, he had gotten me pinned to the floor beneath him. He
fumbled with my skirts and I screamed, clawing him in the face.
My scream brought Tristan. Still struggling, I tried to yell for Tristan
when he called out my name, but only managed the first syllable before a large hand was clamped over my mouth. I then felt the point of a small dirk on my side. Tristan burst the door open and the thief let me go to fight
him. Tristan was besting him and got the dirk out of the thief's hand,
landing about two feet from me. As I went to grab it the thief did also
and got it first. Seeing that I was closer than Tristan, he grabbed me
and thrust the dirk into my chest. The last thing I saw before I died was
Tristan run the thief through the heart and Ian appear in the door yelling
for Tristan and both of them rushing to me.
When I "awoke," I was lying on my pallet and Ian was standing by the window. I could hear muffled crying from my mother's chambers. Ian heard me coughing, turned, and said "Jennifer, you are one of us now. Carry your sword with you always. There can be only one."
I had a million questions running through my mind. Ian answered all that he could. He was 300 years old. I came to understand why he had taught me to wield a sword and defense techniques now. Ian explained the Game, Gatherings, Quickenings, and Holy Ground; but no answer to what The Prize is. There were also the unanswerable
questions.
Why did I become Immortal? How many other Immortals were there in the world?
Please e-mail DAIRE with any questions or comments about the story
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