[Runes of Argyl 01.0] The Runes of Argyl Trilogy

by Jessica Savage

  The driver helped her put her bags into the trunk and Moira sank down into the comfy back seat.

  “Where to, lassie?” he asked her in a deep Scottish accent.

  Moira couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she was actually there and she was among her ancestors’ people.

  “Lennox Castle, please,” she smiled.

  “Lennox, eh?” the driver said as he looked at her in the rearview mirror and nodded his head. “Don’t get many folk going up there anymore.”

  “Really?” Moira asked in disbelief.

  “Aye,” he nodded. “The castle is in disrepair now, after all the scandal, not been looked after in a long time.”

  “Scandal?” she sat forward so she could hear him properly.

  “Aye,” he coughed. “Was a hospital…or a mental institution if you will… Closed down quite a few years back after it emerged that some of the patients were being mistreated.”

  “Oh,” Moira said, disappointed. “That’s just awful.”

  “Aye. The town around it is good, though. You’ll be made to feel at home, don’t worry.”

  “It was the castle really that I was interested in,” she said. “My ancestors are supposedly from the area.”

  “Och,” he laughed. “Well, then, you’ll be even more welcomed.” He smiled at her warmly as he pulled onto the freeway. “The Kincaid Clan have been around Lennoxtown for centuries. Before Lennox Castle was built in the 1800s, there was supposedly another castle on the site, Kincaid Tower.”

  “Really?” Moira asked, intrigued.

  “Aye, and you can still have a nosy around Lennox even now, it’s all closed off, but you can still get in. Just be careful.”

  “Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

  He looked up at her in the mirror and his eyes fixed on her firmly. “Depends how much it means to you.”

  Moira sat back in the seat and looked out of the window. She knew there would be no way she could go trespassing in some ancient insane asylum. Seeing the castle from the outside would have to do.

  As they traveled further along the road, the towns gradually gave way to beautiful countryside. They were in the highlands and Moira couldn’t believe how similar the landscape was to what she had imagined. The hills and greenery were lush and beautiful. She had never seen anything like it before in her life, and it was amazing to be among it all.

  The driver slowed as he approached Lennoxtown, and Moira sat up fully again and watched the quaint little buildings flash by.

  “The castle is up on that rise,” the driver told her. “Do you want to have a look before I take you to your B & B?”

  The sunlight was fading, but her curiosity was overpowering.

  “Yes,” she beamed. “I’d love to see it.”

  The driver smiled at her in the rearview mirror and made his way toward the castle. He pulled off the main road and began up a dirt track. It looked abandoned, and the trees and foliage were very overgrown. The road was bumpy and full of potholes, and as they bounced along, Moira began to regret her decision and wished she had let the driver just take her straight to the bed and breakfast.

  “Wow,” she said, her mouth gaping open as the castle came into view over the tops of the trees.

  Even though it was clearly derelict, it was an impressive structure. Lennox Castle was medieval in style, tall and regal, shining out next to the sky with a superiority that was overwhelming for a simple girl like Moira. She hadn’t expected to see something so spectacular and couldn’t believe that anyone would let such a wonderful building fall into disrepair.

  “Aye, a lot of it was destroyed by fire a few years ago,” the driver said with a sigh. “Shame.”

  He slowed to a halt and got out of the front of the car before opening her door. Moira climbed out and stood looking up at the castle with him.

  “Something, ain’t it?” he smiled. “I’ve always been fond o’ Lennox Castle meself.” He laughed.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “How could it go to waste like this?”

  “Och, I don’t know,” he smiled. “It is a shame.”

  Moira walked closer, looking up at the castle as it loomed high above her. She hadn’t wanted to trespass and risk going inside, but now she was there, right in front of it, she didn’t think her curiosity would let her walk away.

  “Have you ever been in?” she turned and asked the driver.

  “Aye, once,” he nodded. “Not in any rush to go in again though,” he laughed.

  Moira looked back to the castle and then again to the driver.

  “Go on,” he waved her away, “I can wait ten minutes.”

  Moira smiled at him and approached the front door. It had been boarded over, but many other curious people had obviously been there before her—the boards had been smashed in and pulled away. The door was closed all but for a small crack, and when she pushed, it creaked slowly open.

  Half of the roof had been torn away and crumbling stone was piled high in the corners of the cavernous entryway. A bird flapped its wings as it squawked and flew out into the open air. Moira jumped and her heart began to pound. She was desperate to step into the darkness and explore, but she was too afraid. She didn’t have it in her to go snooping around an abandoned and no doubt dangerous castle. She looked up at the impressive staircase fifty feet in front of her that led up to the second floor of the castle, and she noted how half of the steps had fallen or rotted away. She took one step in and pulled her cell phone from her pocket, turning on the flashlight and shining it around. Old paintings were still hanging from the walls but had been covered in spray paint. Graffiti was scrawled all over the thick stone and dripping in neon lines right down to the floor. Her heart sank. Back in its glory days, Lennox Castle would have been an amazing home for the Kincaid Clan.

  She turned on her heel and was about to go back to join the driver when something caught her eye. She shone the light from the cell phone into the corner and the hair on her arms and back of her neck stood on end. Slumped in the corner of the room was what looked like a big, furry animal. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest, but she knew she couldn’t just leave it there. What if it was hurt and needed help?

  She turned back and called to the driver, “There’s something here,” she shouted. “Can you help me?”

  The driver looked around uneasily before shaking his head in defeat and crossing over the gravel to meet her.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking up at the sky. The sun was almost set and the air was getting cooler with each passing minute.

  “I think there’s an animal in there,” she whispered, “and I think it may be hurt.”

  The driver shifted uneasily on the spot and shrugged.

  “Please?” Moira asked him with pleading eyes.

  With reluctance, they both pushed open the door to the castle and stepped carefully into the entryway. The driver didn’t want to be there, that she could tell, but she stepped forward and shone the light into the corner by the wall and waited for him to react.

  “Aye, looks like an animal,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now what?”

  Moira realized he wasn’t going to be any use to her, so she rolled her eyes and stepped cautiously forward. As long as he was right there behind her, she felt safer than being in there alone. She approached the mound of black fur slowly, but as she got closer, she could see that there was no movement to suggest it was breathing. On the floor there was a broken tree branch which she picked up and used to prod it gently.

  The moment she touched it, she knew that it was neither an animal nor alive, and her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled with relief.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “I think it’s an animal skin,” she said as she prodded it again and managed to flip over the thick fur.

  “A pelt?” he asked as he moved closer.

  “Yes,” she bent down and pulled it towards her. It was a thick black furred wolf pelt.

/>   “A black wolf,” the man nodded, “Rare.”

  Moira shook it out and then bundled it up in her arms.

  “My first Scottish souvenir,” she smiled as she made her way back to the door.

  “Are you sure you want that?” the driver asked cautiously.

  “Yep,” she said, “I’ll give it a wash and a clean-up and it’ll be a great memento of my first day here.”

  The wolf pelt was soft and heavy in her arms and even though she knew she shouldn’t be taking it, she just couldn’t help herself.

  “Suit yourself,” he laughed as they both walked back through the doorway and towards the car. The sky had grown dark and bats squeaked as they flitted around the trees overhead. As Moira sank back into the seat, she felt oddly connected with her surroundings and the pelt. She didn’t know why, but she felt strangely protective over it and she never wanted to let it go.

  4.

  As the taxi pulled away, Moira entered the quaint bed and breakfast where she was booked for her first few nights in Scotland. She hadn’t had any idea what to expect from Lennoxtown, so she had planned to move on to other areas after she had explored the land of her ancestors.

  After the little old lady at reception gave her the key to her room, Moira tightly clutched onto the pelt as she made her way up the stairs, dragging her heavy luggage behind her.

  The room was basic but large, and she went straight into the bathroom and ran the big marble sink full of warm, soapy water. The pelt was so beautiful and soft, she had no idea how it had ended up lying on the floor of the derelict castle but she wanted to revive it as much as she could and take care of it. She put it into the sink and let the water seep into it, and then rubbed and massaged until all of the dust and bits of dirt and crumbling stone seemed to have come loose. Afterwards she rinsed it under the shower and rung it out before plugging in the hair dryer and carefully drying it while running a thick comb through the soft fur. She felt so much affection for it, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  Once the pelt had been groomed and was silky smooth and shining, she lay it out across the end of her bed and looked at the clock. It was almost 10:00 pm, and she hadn’t even eaten or unpacked her bags. Her body ached and her mind was swimming with possibility and information. She wanted to unpack, but she also wanted to explore. She opened the small menu at the side of the bed which told her that breakfast would be served between 7:30 am and 9:30 am the following morning. It was a long time to wait, but she would have to stick it out.

  After she hung up the clothes she didn’t want to get too creased, she got into her pajamas and lay down on the bed before turning on the television. She smiled as the array of English and Scottish accents came flying at her, and when the temperature dropped and she found herself chilly, she pulled the wolf pelt up from the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in it. The faint scent of strawberry shower gel still lurked among the soft fur.

  As she watched the local news, her eyes grew heavy and the warmth from the pelt was keeping her so comfy in her little cocoon it wasn’t long before she drifted off soundly to sleep.

  5.

  The cold bit her skin as she stirred the following morning. The air was icy and she shivered beneath the wolf pelt as she clutched it to her and nuzzled into it, pulling it close and breathing in deep. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, but she could tell something was different. It wasn’t just the temperature in her room, but the smell and sounds around her and the breeze blasting her ankles. She shivered and pulled the pelt around her again, almost nervous to acknowledge that something was wrong and someone could potentially be in the room with her. She rubbed her eyes and slowly opened them. The shock hit her all at once, and she jumped up, flying back against the headboard, which was hard as stone.

  Moira was no longer in the adorably old-fashioned bed and breakfast, but in a large stone room that looked like it could have been something out of a strange movie. Something not from her time at all. She looked down and the pelt was the only thing she recognized. Even her clothes had gone and she was wearing a long, raggy brown robe. She hugged her knees to her chest and got to her feet. When they touched the stone floor, the icy cold shot up her legs and made her tremble.

  “Where am I?” she said aloud as she rushed to the window.

  When she looked out, she could tell that she was in some sort of castle structure, and she was very high up from the ground. She was still in Scotland by the looks of things and from the view from her bed chamber, she could see the rolling hills and a lovely blue loch in the distance. The sun was shining, making the landscape look so beautiful and peaceful, but it was so cold, she shivered and was gripped with fear.

  “Kincaid Tower,” a gruff voice came from behind her. She turned to see a small woman standing in front of her. She was haggard and old, but her eyes were warm and welcoming.

  “What?” Moira asked.

  The woman laughed and shook her head before approaching her with a long and elaborately stitched green dress.

  “Here,” she said. “You look cold.”

  “It’s freezing,” Moira complained. “Who are you and what happened to the bed and breakfast?”

  The little woman looked at her as if she were crazy and shrugged.

  “You’ll have to get dressed quickly, lassie. Sir Hamish is on his way to see you.”

  “Who?” Moira protested as the woman pulled the dress down over her head and began to lace her in at the back.

  “Sir Hamish,” she laughed at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well to be honest…” She was about to launch into a long rant about how she actually hadn’t ever heard of him and that also she was completely confused as to what the hell was going on, but before she could finish her sentence, the door to the bed chamber burst open and a tall, hulking, red-haired man stood in front of her. His arms were thick and veiny, and he wore armor over his massive frame. Moira swallowed with shock as she looked up at him and realized that she did know him, and had indeed seem him before.

  The man in front of her was no stranger...

  He was the one who had seduced her in her dream.

  ***

  “Moira?” he asked as he stepped forward and looked at her as if he was unsure that she was real.

  “Yes?” She took a step back, afraid of what may happen.

  “It really is you.” His face relaxed and opened warmly. “My God, I never thought we would see each other again.”

  Moira looked at him with confusion in her eyes and the little woman came beside her and wrapped a protective arm around her before pushing her forwards.

  “What’s going on?” Moira asked.

  “You came back,” Hamish smiled. “I thought I’d lost you forever, but you came back.”

  She didn’t know what to say or where to look… Was this some kind of elaborate joke? Had the taxi driver and the woman from the bed and breakfast set the whole thing up? Or worse, was Jack Tranter somehow involved?

  “Elizabeth,” Hamish said proudly, “we must show our guest nothing but kindness, please, and make sure she wants for nothing.”

  The little lady smiled and bowed daintily, and Hamish stepped closer again so he was almost right up against Moira.

  “I am so happy to see you again,” he reached out and touched her cheek. “I really had thought that I’d lost you.”

  As Moira looked in his eyes, something stirred in her. The dream was one thing and was fresh and vivid in her mind, but there was something within Hamish that was more than familiar… They had been tied together before, she was sure of it. There was a love running between them, ancient and unbreakable, and it made her quiver.

  “I’ll be back for you.” He touched her hair softly before he turned and made his way towards the door. “Elizabeth, feed our guest and make sure she is safe.”

  The little lady nodded and Hamish left the room with a loud slam of the door.

  6.

  “Please, Elizabeth,” Moira ple
aded. “I don’t understand. You must tell me what is happening!”

  The little lady had constructed an impressive fire in the hearth and was stoking it with an iron rod. Moira was sitting on the end of the bed, her bare feet lightly skimming the cold stones of the floor.

  Elizabeth turned to her and sat down in a chair by the fire before sighing and rubbing her temples.

  “Moira,” she said slowly, “you really don’t remember?”

  Moira shook her head with frustration and got to her feet, crossing the room and sitting in the chair opposite Elizabeth so the two women were either side of the fire. The orange glow from the flames shone brightly over both their faces, and Moira was so glad of the warmth as it spread through her chilled bones.

  “You and Hamish were so in love,” she began. “And then one day you simply vanished… No one in all of Scotland could find you, and God knows we tried.” She stopped and let out a little laugh of sadness. “Hamish was always the one leading the pack, desperate to track you down, to find out who had taken you and what had become of you… But after years and years, he had to let go… It pained him to do it, it really did, but he is Sir Hamish Kincaid, and he was betrothed to marry another. The Kincaids have always married well to advance their position up here in these parts, and the Lord and Lady would not allow an exception. With you gone, they arranged for Hamish to wed Lady Fraser, much to his annoyance.”

  Moira listened with intrigue, although she was certain the story she was hearing had nothing to do with her.

  “But now you’ve returned,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. “And now Hamish will not marry Lady Fraser.”

  “Wait,” Moira interjected. “So how long have I been gone?” She believed she was humoring the old woman for information.