The Highlander's Quest Read online

  The Highlander's Quest

  by

  Dana D’Angelo

  Copyright Information

  Copyright © 2020 - Dana D’Angelo

  www.dana-dangelo.com

  All rights reserved. This book, in its entirety or in parts, may not be reproduced in any format without expressed permission. Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book through the Internet or through any other type of distribution or retrieval channel without the permission of the author is illegal and is punishable by law. Please purchase only legitimate electronic versions of this book and do not engage in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  The characters, places and events portrayed in this fictional work are a result of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events, locales, or people, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Thank You Gift

  About The Author

  Glossary

  More Titles By Dana D’Angelo

  Chapter 1

  October 1561, Scotland

  Elspeth MacFlikire heard the wind pushing against the wooden door of their wattle and daub structure. The gust of wind rattled the shutters, causing the tallow candle on the common table to flicker. Before long, winter would be upon them. She sent a worried glance at the front door. Her father had yet to return from the field. She forced herself to put aside her worries, reminding herself that while the days were getting shorter, her father still needed to finish up with the harvest.

  She turned her attention back to chopping root vegetables. And once she was finished, she scooped up the pieces to add to the pottage simmering in the cauldron above the hearth.

  Their father expected dinner to be ready when he arrived. And as usual, she and her nine-year-old sister were rushing to get everything completed. Fiona threw more peat into the fire, and momentarily caused a stream of smoke to fill the room. She jerked back from the heavy smoke while Elspeth quickly turned her face and raised her arm to cough in her sleeve.

  When the smoke settled, she nodded to Fiona to set the pitcher of ale on the table. Meanwhile, Elspeth watched over the bubbling stew. In a little while, the vegetables would soften, and the fragrant of the stew would fill the air and cancel out the smell of smoldering peat.

  With the task finished, her sister came to stand next to her. She peered into the pot and wrinkled her face. “We had pottage last supper.”

  “I never claimed tae have Mother’s talent for cooking,” Elspeth said, her brows creasing.

  Fiona dropped her gaze and stared at the cooking fire. “Nay one can cook like Mother,” she said, her voice turning sullen.

  She probably regretted bringing up the topic of supper because she didn’t say anything further. And Elspeth didn’t want to start an argument just before their father arrived. Besides, her sister only stated the truth.

  The wind had picked up again and was now blowing hard against the walls of their modest home. While it was cool outside, the interior was warm and cozy.

  Elspeth concentrated on stirring the thick broth, watching the liquid bubble as the scent of the fragrant stew began to permeate the enclosed area.

  “Tomorrow is the Samhain celebration. Do you think we can go this year?” Fiona asked, breaking the silence. Her tone was hopeful, but Elspeth couldn’t be bothered by looking up from her task.

  “I already told ye nay,” she said, carefully scraping the bottom of the pot with the spurtle.

  “Why nae?” Fiona’s voice turned high pitched and whiny. “The last time we were in town, Aunt Morag said we should join the festivities and honor Mother.”

  Elspeth turned to her sister. “There is nay point wandering in town when we can honor her here in our home.” She shook the spurtle for emphasis. “Anyhow, I recall there are bothersome lads in town. I suspect they’ll cause more trouble at the festival.”

  “That’s nae fair,” Fiona cried.

  Elspeth cringed at her sister’s ire. She was well aware that she sounded like their mother, but someone had to be the responsible one. Their mother had died two years earlier. And with their father always working in the field, that responsibility fell on her shoulders. It was a role she never asked for or wanted, yet here she was.

  As she turned back to the pot, an old wicker basket that belonged to their mother caught her eye. It sat at the side of the wall, gathering dust. That empty basket contained many memories. Countless times, their mother would carry it around with her while she engaged in one farm chore to another.

  There were a handful of other items as well that reminded her of their beloved mother. For instance, the blankets folded neatly at the end of each of their pallets were woven by her. She had lovingly made them years ago, and now they were more important than ever.

  Since their mother’s death, Elspeth had made little changes to their home. But this was a choice she made. Some small part of her wanted to believe that this sad state was only a dream. Perhaps one day she would wake up and find that their mother had only temporarily gone to visit her sister in town.

  “Well,” Fiona said, placing her hands on her hips. “Why cannae we go?”

  Her sibling’s impatience registered in her brain, reminding her of the present. Sending Fiona a slanted look, she said with some annoyance, “’Tis what I feel. And right now, I feel that it isnae a guid idea for us tae go.”

  Fiona pursed her lips and looked as if she was about to argue her point. But she must have realized the futility of her argument because she let out a long sigh of defeat and kicked at the rushes on the ground. “Ye dinnae think anything is a guid idea, Elspeth. Perhaps, I’ll ask Da about it when he gets home.”

  “Nae, dinnae ask Da,” she began. “He —”

  “Ask me about what?” Their father said as he stepped into the cottage.

  For a moment a blast of cool air whistled through the room, dispersing the smoke that lingered in the space. He closed the door firmly behind him.

  As Fiona started toward their father, Elspeth yanked at her sleeve. She shook her head, sending her sister a warning glance. It wasn’t wise to bring up the festival since their father was likely tired, hungry, and didn’t need to deal with nonsense.

  But her younger sister pretended not to see her warning and pulled out of her grip. The sadness she displayed moments ago had disappeared completely.

  “We were just talking about the Samhain celebrations,” she said. “I want tae go guising for soul cakes with Margaret and Lyall. From what our cousins tell me, the festival gets better each year, and I didnae want tae miss it this time.”

  “Ma never approved of the celebrations,” Elspeth interrupted. She retrieved the empty bowls that sat on the table and brought it to the bubbling cauldron. “She once told me that goblins came out at this time and snatched children.”

  “That cannae be true,” Fiona said, frowning. “If it were, dozens of children would disappear every year.” She trailed after their father as he made his way to wash his hands in the basin. “Sae, what do ye think, Da? Can Elspeth and I go guising while ye go visit the tavern?”

  Elspeth furrowed
her brow and forced herself to stay quiet. If she didn’t, she risked saying something that she would regret. Grabbing a ladle, she began filling the bowls with the steaming stew. She had no interest in dressing up and begging for soul cakes. The whole idea seemed childish and unimportant.

  But before she could voice her opinions, their father said, “I dinnae see why nae.”

  “Och, Da!” Fiona gasped and threw her arms around his waist.

  “Surely ye are jesting.” Elspeth’s jaw dropped open in disbelief as she watched the exchange. “I thought ye dinnae approve of the celebrations,” she said.

  Their father walked over to the table and sat heavily on the bench. “I dinnae care about it one way or another,” he said. “I figured ye lassies lost interest in it, sae I never mentioned it. But if ye want tae go tae the celebration, that’s fine by me. I’ll just come along and find myself some guid whisky.”

  ***

  The next day, when they arrived at their aunt’s house in town, their father lost no time and headed straight to the tavern. Meanwhile, Fiona was similarly focused. She and their cousins joined the other guisers who wandered the streets. The light was starting to fade, and with it, the excitement in the air seemed to increase.

  Since Elspeth didn’t want to be stuck at their aunt’s place, she reluctantly followed the small troop as they went from house to house. Most of the bairns were dressed up as various spirits. And as they traveled to each dwelling, they demanded their reward in exchange for blessings or prayers. She supposed that in the end, there really wasn’t any harm to it. If she were Fiona’s age, she would have wanted to participate in the begging. Besides, their mother never actually forbade them from attending the events even though she disapproved of the festivities.

  All around her were people shouting and laughing in the streets. She spotted half a dozen of the revelers stumbling around in the dark, half drunk. She twisted her lips as she reflected on the irony of what she witnessed. In her opinion, these activities weren’t honoring the departed. But even if she voiced her thoughts out loud, no one would listen to her.

  As Elspeth trailed after Fiona and their cousins, a commotion in the town square caught her attention. At seeing the massive bonfire, she paused to watch it burn. For a long moment, she stood mesmerized by the power and intensity of the red-orange flames.

  This bonfire was deliberately set as a part of the festivities and was intended to ward off any evil spirits that lingered among the living. Unfortunately, the fire eerily resembled the flames that had engulfed the town not too long ago. From her home, which was within walking distance of the settlement, she recalled seeing smoke rising in the air. It was lucky that her mother never witnessed the horrific events that occurred during the bloody war. No doubt, she would have been horrified by the destruction it caused to the town.

  Upon thinking about the catastrophic struggle against the English, Elspeth shivered. That was something she never wanted to experience ever again.

  The shrill cry from a bairn abruptly pulled her out of her disturbing thoughts. The lad had worn a costume that was too large for him. Since he couldn’t see his feet, he had tripped on a rock and skinned his knees. A large Highlander, who happened to be nearby, strode over to the lad and picked him up. At the same time, the boy’s sister rushed over, a distraught expression on her face.

  Elspeth started to continue on her way once she saw that the child wasn’t seriously hurt. But she stopped and looked back. There was something about the warrior that piqued her interest. Unfortunately, when she observed the group, she was struck by an odd sensation. The man was giving the young lass his undivided attention. Meanwhile, the maiden, who was around her age, had tilted her pretty face to the Highlander and seemed enraptured by him. The stranger appeared haggard and scruffy, yet despite his unkempt look, there was no denying that he was a very handsome man.

  But before she could assess him further, a shout exploded in the air, and a gang of masked youths sprinted toward the couple.

  One of the lads grabbed the maiden and yanked her aside while he and his friends surrounded the Highlander.

  With his companions close to him, the first youth took a menacing step forward. “Ye are nae welcome here,” he snarled.

  The gang looked at the stranger as if he was their mortal enemy. Perhaps during the war, the Highlander was considered a hero. But now that the skirmish was over, he was a reminder of all that they had suffered. Many townspeople were angered and even blamed the fighters for not adequately protecting them and their possessions during the English invasion. Elspeth remembered not long ago how some injured warriors wanted to recover in town; however, they were driven away. She recognized that these were the same troublemakers who chased away the warriors.

  “I am nae harming anyone,” the stranger said, his tone measured and calm.

  “Are ye going tae hurt him?” the bairn asked the youth, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Nay one will be hurt,” the Highlander said, his unwavering gaze leveled on each of the troublemakers.

  Even when confronting danger, the man showed no fear. Elspeth looked down at his hand and noticed it moving to the handle of his claymore, but she wasn’t the only one who noticed the action. The stranger casually withdrew the weapon and set the tip of the blade on the ground. A couple of the lads nervously shifted their feet, but their leader merely thrust out his chin in defiance.

  The tension between them increased by the second, and there was no telling what would happen next. All that Elspeth knew was that she had to do something. If she hesitated even for a moment longer, things would get out of hand. And the celebrations would be halted, and bloodshed would be everywhere.

  “Angus!” she shouted, rushing toward the tense gathering.

  All eyes turned to stare at her.

  “I’ve been looking all over for ye,” she said, ignoring the youths’ questioning glances. She hooked her elbow with the stranger’s and led him quickly away before the troublemakers could challenge her.

  Once they were out of earshot, the Highlander turned to her. “Ye called me Angus,” he said. “Do ye ken me?” There was a puzzled look in his gray eyes, and he scanned her face as if he would find the answers there.

  “Of course nae,” she said. “I just made up the name.”

  Chapter 2

  I just made up the name.

  He stared at the lass as her words sank in. The small hope that had flickered in his chest died after hearing the confession.

  “I dinnae ken my name,” he admitted, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. “But Angus will do.”

  “Everyone has a birth name.” She tilted her head as puzzlement reflected in her pretty hazel eyes. “Why is it that ye dinnae ken yours?”

  It struck him that she was a very attractive lass. Too much time had passed since he last encountered a fresh-faced beauty like her. If circumstances were different, he would have enjoyed getting acquainted with her. But at this moment, she didn’t appear as if she wanted to get to know him. In fact, she watched him with a high degree of expectation, although maybe there was interest as well.

  “Well?” she said, lifting a delicate brow in challenge. Her warm eyes scanned his face

  Remembering the question, Angus started to form an answer. But a holler sounded to their right, and he looked over, glad for the small distraction. The youths who had troubled him earlier were now chasing each other around the roaring flames, their shouts, and mischievous laughter ringing in the night air. If he hadn’t encountered the rascals, he would have thought they were harmless.

  Not long had passed, but there seemed to be more people milling about. The glowing fire reflected off the nearby thatched houses and outlined the stand of aspen trees and hills in the background. The crackle and snapping of the burning material, the excited voices, and the barking dogs blocked out whatever lay in the darkness beyond. Fear and revelry mingled in the electric atmosphere. Angus couldn’t recall much from his life, but he knew th
at Samhain was the only time of the year when spirits roamed freely among the living. However, their presence was usually not a cause for concern. From what he knew, most people embraced the day, and they eagerly celebrated the merging of the realms.

  The smoke from the large fire rose into the night sky. He took in the scent of burning straw and wood and shifted uncomfortably as he felt the heat from the bonfire.

  A sudden rustle sounded beside him, and he turned his attention back to his companion. The angle of light falling on her pretty face made him pause. Warmth began to spread through him, and he couldn’t attribute it entirely to the sacred fire. For some reason, he was maybe too conscious of her attractiveness. A strand of curly red hair dangled from the middle of her forehead, and the flames raging a short distance away glanced off her tresses. If anything, the lighting from the bonfire made her appear otherworldly and exquisite. Some enchantment encircled them, and for a moment, he barely noticed the revelry that surrounded them. Was she a fae or a mortal woman? At this point, he couldn’t tell.

  He studied her comely face, trying to prevent himself from touching her smooth skin, and seeing whether she was real. And while he tried his best to focus on their conversation, his attention invariably wandered to her luscious lips. Would she allow him to kiss her?

  “Well?” she asked again, a delicate brow rising.

  Angus winced inwardly, remembering that he still hadn’t answered her question.

  He gave himself a mental shake and tried to break the spell she wove around him. “What are ye called?” he asked, his tone abrupt.

  “Elspeth MacFlikire.” She shook her head impatiently. “I cannae understand how ye can forget your own name.”

  How could he indeed. It was a concern that had kept him awake at night too. But at this moment, against his will, his attention was recaptured by this red-haired vision. She appeared to be around nineteen years old. A woman her age should have been married by now, but the curly mass that hung loosely past her slender shoulders, indicating her unmarried state. This was unusual, considering her beauty.