Highland Stone

by Sloan McBride

  For a reason she couldn't explain, Kara's hands shook, making it harder to focus on the words and finish the story.

  Years passed and still no one had appeared to drag me back. I had taken the MacKay talisman so likely no one could follow, but I couldna keep the fear at bay. It haunts the back of my mind that one day the demon will appear and kill me dead. I have a son, Michael. Haskell and Michael are my life.

  Sometimes my heart breaks because I miss my bráthair and, in taking the stone, I put my clan at risk. But I wouldna give back one hour—one day.

  This history 'tis not for everyone, most wouldna believe it. In my heart, I am certain one will come to take this knowledge and do the right thing. Until then, I keep it hidden.

  R. Glynnis Malone.

  Glynnis had always been tight-lipped about her past. She shared very little of her roots. Kara remembered once when she was in fifth grade and needed a note for school. Glynnis had written out the note and signed it, R. Glynnis Malone. When Kara asked what the R stood for, Glynnis clenched her jaw, tightened her lips, and shooed her off.

  For as long as Kara could remember, Grams harangued her about being too serious. "The universe is filled with magic, Kara. It swirls around us unseen. You have to believe and be open to it." Her choice to become a scientist really hampered her ability to believe in the mystical world.

  Glynnis used to tell wonderful stories about knights, fair maidens, Highland warriors, and young girls who had the balls to stand up to their fathers for unfair treatment, even if it meant severe punishment.

  Kara's heart ached. This journal was Grams' farewell. The story, a last attempt to bestow a sense of magical wonder on her fact-minded granddaughter. She picked up the stone and caressed it. In truth, she missed Grams' stories. Perhaps the centuries-old Scotland that Grams' brought to life with her storytelling is why Kara's dreams conjured the stark landscape and kilted warrior.

  A shadow fell over her. Kara looked out the window to see strange clouds tear through the sky and streaks of lightning come perilously close to the plane. White spirals reached for the heavens like fingers laced with beautiful pastel colors. Her eyelids drooped, suddenly too heavy to keep open. With the stone clasped in her hand, everything dimmed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kara blinked trying to focus. Cold, stiff muscles spasmed in her back. How long had she'd been asleep? She stretched her arms overhead when realization hit. She was no longer in the confines of an airplane. "What the hell?"

  A light mist coiled around slopes of purple heather. In the distance lay a still body of water, a lake perhaps, sheltered by cliffs, creating a breathtaking backdrop. Fading twilight streaked through passing clouds and she sat on a gravel road with a severe wedgie and something sharp jabbing her butt.

  "Holy hell." She pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. The strange weather caused the plane to crash and I'm dead. But if the plane crashed, wouldn't I be injured, and wouldn't there be burning debris from the fuselage littering the ground? A vicious headache pounded at her temples. Shifting to her hands and knees, Kara braced herself before rising. She stood and took inventory. Aches and pains wrestled through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, each vying for a place to settle, but all her parts were intact. At her feet lay the stone she'd found with her grandmother's journal. She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

  Strangely dressed people gawked at her as she strolled toward the throng. Some kids chasing a small dog ran past her so closely that she staggered to keep her balance. They giggled but kept on their hunt. The sweet smell of fresh elderberries tickled her nose, as did a strong lavender scent from nearby bushes. She could hear murmured voices, a startled laugh, and a hawker announced some type of fair. More children raced around stands filled with woolen fabrics, apples, and what looked like raspberries.

  She could see, hear, smell, and feel pain—this couldn't be a dream. But it couldn't be real either. She massaged her temples and closed her eyes again. "This isn't happening." She bit back a bout of hysterical laughter.

  The voices and laughter quieted as more people began to take notice of her arrival. Several crossed themselves as if they were seeing some kind of apparition or demon. In her current attire, she struck out like a red rose in a bouquet of white carnations. Chills raced across her skin. The Boston Celtics t-shirt she wore offered little warmth.

  Grand buckets of wood were ablaze. If only she could get closer to one of those, the fire would warm her. But, she dared not approach with so many gaping on-lookers which set her already shattered nerves on edge. Furiously rubbing her hands up and down her arms to generate friction and warmth, she scanned her surroundings for a hiding place. There was none save the woods. At dusk, who knew what kind of creatures would be in there: snakes, spiders, bats—not the most pleasant thought. Skulking away, she drifted up the road, and ducked into a thicket of trees. Large pines towered above her and the smell reminded her of Christmas. She slid down the trunk of one to the cold, hard ground. "Scotland," she murmured. "How in God's name did I get to Scotland?" Think Kara, you're a scientist. Her brain had always been her best weapon against adversity. Okay, so her right hook had gotten her out of a few jams, but she'd been working on temper control. The trauma of her grandmother's death, fond memories, and the story she fell asleep reading could explain her location. The why of it anyway. Or it could be psychosis. Because that's the only plausible thing she could come up with now, she'd gone over the edge—nuts. She had no fever, no illness, and no alcohol, so the how was going to be a little harder to explain. She studied rocks, volcanoes, gems, not physics. Time travel, space warps, magic, those weren't her specialties. Where there are people, there are answers.

  Staying concealed, she peered through the foliage at the gathering of people. The murmurs were more frantic now and she heard words like witch, banshee, and faery.

  One withered man with a hunched back and heavy accent argued the price of some kind of tool. An elderly woman wrapped in large squared tartan of blue, red and yellow strolled over to a wooden two-wheeled wagon covered in baskets, examining each with a critical eye. Others milled about the stands, all adorned in plaids. One stocky fellow wore his as a kilt, a woman had hers wrapped about her shoulders.

  Kara's grandfather used to wear his tartan on special occasions. He often spoke of the festivals in the old country and how much fun he'd had there.

  The setting sun meant a rapid change in the air and the cool mist which earlier had been mysterious, now stuck to her exposed skin. She crept back toward the small field of merchant booths where villagers sold their wares. If she didn't find a way to warm up soon, she worried about hypothermia setting in.

  Kara searched for a familiar landmark in the landscape. Nothing. Her stomach grumbled as she happened upon one family packing up their vegetables. She'd give up chocolate for a month if even one piece rolled off their stand unnoticed. Miraculously, an apple came to rest up against her shoe having done exactly that. As casually as possible, Kara picked up the apple and quickly sauntered away from the cart before kicking up speed to a jog. A thundering sound of horses careened toward her. She stumbled and fell.

  A horse whinnied.

  She threw her arms over her face and screamed before the rider reined the animal in. The horse reared, its massive hooves kicking out at the air above her head. Its active forelegs landed a foot away and a figure jumped off the stallion and roared down on her.

  "Bloody hell, woman, are ye mad, jumping out in front o' me horse like that? You could've been killed."

  Kara lowered her arm. I'm not trampled. Words caught in her dry throat, and her stomach flip-flopped as she gaped at the mountain of a man towering over her. His dark hair whipped around broad shoulders and his blue eyes burned with anger.

  It was him, the dark giant who came to life in her dreams.

  Finally finding speech but sounding croaky, she said, "I twisted my ankle.
"

  He dropped to his knees beside her and with gentle fingers touched her swollen flesh. Startling blue eyes now looked at her with concern and something else she couldn't place. "These be odd garments." He rubbed his hand against the denim on her calf. "Strange cloth."

  Panic flared in her.

  "Ye shall catch your death." He held her hand in his light grasp to gently wipe rocks and grass away from her palm.

  Kara shivered. His Scottish brogue caressed her ears, sounding better in real life than in her dreams.

  "Where be your companions?"

  "I—I'm alone."

  He seemed thrown by her comment. "Foolish woman. Ye shouldna travel alone. What 'tis your name?"

  "Kara—Kara Malone."

  "Malone. I dunna recognize the clan."

  She groped for a clever response. "I'm not from around here."

  "O' that I be certain."

  Again, he looked at her the way he'd done a million times in her mind. Except now she saw skepticism, suspicion.

  "I—I've come far and am unfamiliar with this area of the Highlands." At least, she hoped she was in the Highlands.

  With sleek grace, the Scot stood. "I be Alaxandar MacLeod and that," he pointed to his companion. "'tis me cousin, Jamie."

  She nodded at the stocky, well-muscled barbarian.

  "Come, I shall take ye to the keep to have your leg looked at."

  Alaxandar lifted her into his arms with ease. She shrieked and grabbed his shoulders. She'd never been manhandled like this before.

  Frowning he said, "Relax lass, I'll not drop ye." He turned to his cousin. "Jamie, bring me horse. He sat her on the animal's back then hopped on behind her.

  Kara started to protest but talk of her odd dress rumbled through the crowd surrounding them. Breathe. For once, she'd keep her mouth shut until she got a better handle on how to deal with her uncomprehending situation.

  Night was descending. People loaded their bundles on carts or their backs then called out farewells to Alaxandar MacLeod as they dispersed. With her cuddled against his chest, he traveled a dirt road littered with rocks, moving closer to an enormous stone castle. Kara peered at the huge walls rising before them. Squinting, she could see rectangular windows cut out of the stone. The entire castle sat on the edge of treacherous cliffs and the wind whistled when it whipped around the massive structure.

  "Welcome to Dunvegan," Alaxandar said as he started across the drawbridge at a slow trot.

  "It's impressive," Kara replied. She didn't remember ever seeing a castle in her dreams.

  "Aye, 'tis that." He stopped the horse, jumped off, and pulled her down to his arms.

  Jamie MacLeod snatched the reins, and veered to the left, leading the horses to what looked like the stables. When they neared the keep, a voice called out. "Yo, Alaxandar. What have ye brought us?" The stranger snickered. "Ye were out to gather information, not women."

  Kara twisted in Alaxandar's arms and searched in the direction of the voice. Out of the building's shadow strolled another hulking figure, almost as tall as the one carrying her.

  Alaxandar growled. "Iain, I all but stomped this fair lass with me horse, and she needs tending."

  Fair-haired, ruggedly handsome with merriment in his eyes and laugh lines, Iain joined them. One light brow hiked to go with the curious expression on his young face.

  "'Tis me bráthair," Alaxandar told her.

  Strong biceps and forearms hugged her closer, shielding her from the strong wind careening through the courtyard up from the loch. The lake was much larger than she'd thought when she'd first seen it. Iain shook his shaggy head. One errant curl fell across his forehead.

  "Dunna just stand there," Alaxandar barked. "Go find our máthair."

  Undisturbed by his brother's order, Iain smiled at her with white teeth and cute dimples. He's gorgeous, too.

  "Welcome," Iain said in a smooth voice before he turned and jogged up the stairs to the castle.

  "Me máthair be versed in the healing arts."

  She tried to shift out of his arms, but he held tight. "I can walk you know."

  Alaxandar strode up the stairs without responding.

  They entered a massive room. The farthest wall housed a giant hearth with a smoldering fire and peat, which smelled like burning dirt. Scattered about the room were clean wooden tables the length of tractor-trailers. Despite the fist-sized chunks bashed from the edges, the oak planks were sanded and smooth. Intricate tapestries woven in a myriad of colors depicted gallant battles and gave warmth to the stark walls. Rushes cracked under Alaxandar's boots.

  A petite dark-haired woman, sporting a radiant smile, moved toward them. Her sheer elegance filled the room like early morning sunshine.

  "Alaxandar, what mischief have you been about?"

  His features softened and he bowed slightly. "Hello, Máthair. She's hurt." He turned showing Kara's foot.

  "I'm Katherine MacLeod. Welcome to Dunvegan Castle."

  Before Kara could reply, Katherine issued orders to those standing around as if she were a commander. "Alaxandar, take the girl to a guest chamber so I can see to her ankle. Iain, go get Maeve and ask her to meet us there."

  When he headed toward a nearby doorway, Kara again tried to get down. "Quit squirmin', woman."

  "Look, buster, you're the one who almost ran me over. I should be the one who's upset here. Now, put me down."

  Again, Alaxandar ignored her request and sprinted up the circular stone steps to the next level.

  "Ooh," she huffed.

  On the second floor, he entered a mid-sized room and approached a small bed.

  "Hey," she yelled as he dumped her unceremoniously on her bruised butt and the soft mattress.

  He bowed and, with an amused grin, left the room just as Katherine came in with a young woman. The girl's long brownish-red hair was fashioned in a braid down her back and she, too, had soft blue eyes. The red, blue, and green plaid she wore as a skirt enhanced her tawny coloring.

  "This is my daughter, Leelah."

  "I'm sorry," Kara said. "I didn't get a chance to tell you my name earlier. It's Kara."

  Leelah half-curtsied in response. Katherine only glanced at Kara once when lifting her pant leg.

  "Please have a bucket of cold water brought up," Katherine said to another woman who stood quietly at the door. "And some cloth for wrapping after. I have duties," she told Kara. "Leelah will see to your needs." Before Kara could even thank her, Katherine went through the door with skirts breezing behind her, leaving a deafening silence and a sentry.

  For her protection or theirs?

  Kara's brain couldn't process all this. Logic warred with insanity and her psychosis seemed to be winning. The pain in her ankle and slight ache on her butt told her this was a waking nightmare, a bout of psychotic delusion brought on by stress. Where's a shrink when you need one?

  A guarded curiosity haunted Leelah's eyes. Even the dream participants doubted her sanity. Kara surveyed the room, unsettled by the other woman's stare. Smaller tapestries hung on the plain walls and sconces with white tapers provided soft light.

  "Your mother is very sweet."

  The young woman didn't answer. It seemed to run in the family. If they were going to pretend she wasn't there then why did they need a guard at the door?

  "Ye were on MacLeod land." Leelah suddenly spoke. The young woman's skepticism beamed in her eyes. "'Tis the duty of the clan to care for travelers."

  "And I'm grateful," Kara said, unsure whether the statement had been meant as a threat.

  The door opened and the older woman reappeared. A teenage boy followed her, dragging a bucket filled with water, placing it on the floor in front of Kara. Without saying another word, Leelah trailed out of the room with the others.

  "I'll be happy to wake up anytime now," Kara offered to the heavens. She stuck her foot in the cold water, stifling a scream, then flopped back on the feather bed. She lay there with one arm flung over her eyes going over everything that
had happened in the last twenty-four hours. The only explanation, albeit illogical, is the stone. Glynnis' story said the stone was a talisman with magical powers. While magic was hard for her to swallow, she'd come up with no other reasonable answer. Nervously, she sat up. "The stone."

  Frantically she searched her pockets, relieved when her fingers clasped the rock, and pulled it out. She stuffed the stone down her shirt when someone rapped on the door. Katherine MacLeod quickly entered carrying a bundle of clothing.

  "I brought you clothes, since you have no others. I thought you would want to freshen up before the meal."

  "You're very kind. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your-uh-castle."

  "'Tis the Scottish custom to offer food and shelter to travelers. Besides, 'twas my son who ran you down."

  "He didn't really. I tripped and fell in front of his horse."

  "Let's keep that between us, shall we?" Katherine winked. "'Tis nice to see my son humbled."

  Kara chuckled, warming to her hostess. "He frowns a lot."

  "Aye, he has much on his mind."

  "Um, I noticed that your accent is different from that of your children, less—harsh."

  Katherine laughed as she set the clothes on the bed. "That's because I'm English, or Sassenach, in hostile circles." Her brilliant smile faltered.

  Kara fiddled with one of the ties on the blouse. "Why haven't you asked about the way I'm dressed?"

  Katherine leaned against the door. "The Highlands are fraught with tales of witches and faery and demons who steal your soul, grant you wishes, and curse your clan. If you are fae here to bring good fortune or right some wrong, I welcome it. But if you have come to curse the MacLeods and bring down the clan, I will fight you unto my last breath."

  Kara's mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut and counted to ten. "I promise I'm not a witch or demon here to do your family harm." Although if this were ancient Scotland and she had time traveled, wouldn't that be seen as witchcraft? Didn't they burn witches? "But, neither am I a fairy." Kara rubbed her arms against the sudden cold creeping through her bones. She wanted to confide in someone, but could she? Would it mess up her chances of getting home? She thought it best to keep the secret. "I'm merely a stranger in a foreign place, trying to find my way home." That's an understatement.