Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  The horse moved as if it were flying, it dodged trees and branches with great precision and speed, leaving a cloud of snow in its path. As they moved closer to the edge of the forest, Ella lightly patted its neck to slow the horse before it crossed over into the clearing, the forbidden territory. Controlled by Alaris’s sister, Queen Talara, patrols heavily guarded the tree line to keep out Ella’s guardian Alaris and her kinfolk.

  Banished from the court of the Fae, no Fae or creature that sided with Alaris was allowed to cross the ruins of Lochmoor, which rested along the edge of the forest. Lochmoor, the resting place for fallen Fae, was the only neutral zone between the two factions. Beyond the graves and stone wall was the Great Tree, the portal between the realm of the Fae and that of the mortal world.

  Turning her horse, she led him down a path that followed the riverbed until she reached the sacred grove. Alaris’s followers gathered around the base of the small cliff where Alaris proudly stood. Favoring her human form, Alaris was dressed in a tightly-fitted black gown. Her ever-young, fair complexion made her beautiful.

  Ella dismounted her horse. Her silvery dress dragged on the ground behind her, but the rest of her was wrapped tightly in a white fox fur cloak. Running her long, slender fingers alongside the horse’s side as she passed him, she walked toward the incline to stand next to Alaris. Brushing her bangs out of her face to one side, she adjusted the crown of woven thorns situated atop mass of curls. With a slight bow, Ella greeted the queen. Alaris nodded her head and faced the chattering crowd.

  “Silence!” she called out, her voice as piercing as the sharp end of a sword. “No longer will we live in the shadows of Queen Talara and her motley crew of followers. No longer will we be forced into the darkness. We will fight and watch our enemies fall. And victory shall be ours!”

  As Alaris spoke, Ella hung on every word. She could feel the vibration of Alaris’s voice as she addressed the war-hungry crowd. Alaris’s abrasive approach had won her many followers and admirers. Ella was honored to be standing next to her predecessor; it would soon be Ella standing before the Fae-folk, leading them into battle. Though her powers were not as great, her heart was just as black.

  “The night of the royal babe’s celebration, we will strike. We will make our stand along the border of the Kingdom of Greylyn, and my sister Talara will regret the day she turned our world to blackness,” Alaris said, slamming her foot upon a rock, shattering it as if it were as fragile as glass.

  As the crowd cheered, Ella could sense their anticipation and eagerness, which closely matched her own. After the cheers and applause had quieted they departed to ready themselves for battle. With the babe’s celebration in less than three weeks, it gave them plenty of time to plan and prepare.

  As the Fae-folk filtered out of the sacred gathering place, Alaris grabbed Ella’s arm and dragged her aside.

  “Ella, I need for you to go to the stones. Seek the answers they provide. Do not return until you do. Bring me word of our victory and how we are to defeat my sister,” she demanded.

  “Yes, my lady,” Ella whispered.

  Ella returned to her horse. In a fast sprint, they traveled north toward the circle of sacred stones. Every Fae had a series of magical powers. Most had wings and could travel in eddies of wind, while others had control over life within the forest. The members of the Order of the Fae High Council had a much different ability. They had the power to manipulate the elements at their command, whether it was fire, water, lightning or air. It made them the strongest and most powerful of all the Fae in the Kingdom on Andor. Ella, on the other hand, had a different sort of ability that only she possessed. Whispers of the ancient past could speak to her through the sacred stones in words and visions. Hers was a very unique and extraordinary gift and the very reason she was chosen as Alaris’s successor.

  The stones often spoke of a legend of light and dark, good versus evil, and how they both brought balance to the world. But most of the time, the voices told her what was yet to come. Alaris hoped to use Ella’s ability to her advantage.

  As she reached the shadowy grove of pine trees, Ella dismounted. Brushing past the tree’s hard, prickly needles, she walked out into an open clearing. Seven stones standing in a wide circle were the key to Talara’s undoing. Ella walked to the first stone and pressed her palms against it. Closing her eyes, she held her breath and listened. In a deep and raspy voice, the stone revealed its prophecy.

  Within the darkness there is a light, concealed and smoldering like a flickering flame. As the Child of Light brightens, shadows will fade and Darkness will fall. But be warned, a child born of two worlds must choose one over the other. As one will rise the other will fall.

  Ella took a step back from the stone, analyzing its meaning. Ella walked to the next stone in search of more answers, but each one only spoke nonsense and meaningless, repetitive words. From what Ella could gather from the stone’s message, it was clear the child they referred to was the royal babe, but she felt bothered by the second half of the prophecy. Without fully understanding its significance, she thought it best to keep that part to herself, for now. One thing was for certain, if the babe was a threat, it must be destroyed!

  ~ ♥ ~

  “Tis the child! He is what stands in our way of victory. He will bring forth destruction to our world.”

  “The child?” Alaris repeated Ella’s words.

  “Yes! The stones say that the Child of Light will vanquish the darkness, but with a warning I still have yet to understand. We must find this child and kill him before the prophecy comes to pass.”

  The look on Alaris’s face was not a look of anger or surprise, as Ella had believed it would be. It was calm, as if her anger was replaced with a true morbid curiosity rather than fury. Her expression was flat and unsurprising. It was as if she already knew.

  “That will prove to be much more difficult than I had anticipated.”

  “It’s the only way. If you wish, I will sneak into Talara’s fortress and take the child. We will have our war,” Ella interrupted.

  “I will gather the high council. The celebration is in three weeks. That should give you plenty of time to reach the Isles of Greylyn, get into Talara’s lair, and return with the child. Understand that if you do not return with the babe by the night of the full moon along our borders, we cannot hold off our attack.”

  “I understand. I will use the stones to guide me. I will not fail you.”

  “Be sure that you don’t.”

  Ella accepted her mission and left for her chamber to pack for her journey. Ella knew the walls of Lochmoor, as she had breached them several times. She knew the weakest points in the wall, and how to cross over the path that led to the Great Tree, though she had never passed beyond that point. Ella also knew that this plan was the only chance her people had to rid themselves of Talara for good.

  Chapter 4

  It had taken more than courage for Galen to return to this wretched village. Had it not been for his cousin, he never would have stepped foot in this village again unless it was absolutely necessary. This place brought nothing but terrible memories, ones not easily forgotten. Though the small village of Ferryden was under his control as part of his lands, it was one he did not visit very often.

  Secluded behind a wall of pine and fir trees, there was only one road into the village. Situated along the bluff of the sea, ten miles to the south of Castle Dunquest, the village of Ferryden was erected between the coast of the North Sea on its eastern border and River Esk to its north. It was built centuries ago to hide an old Scottish fort last occupied by Robert the Bruce’s army. After the abandonment and the Battle of 1332, almost a hundred years ago, the land was awarded to Malcolm Graham, the king’s faithful vassal and Galen’s great grandfather.

  He dismounted, once again in his childhood home. The crofts and homes were much the same as when he had left all those years ago and the priory still stood its facade as formidable as when he’d resided there.

  It
wasn’t the ground he walked on or the aging homes that made this place so distasteful to visit. Those who lived here made Galen uncomfortably silent. Though their loyalty was forced when he became laird, Galen could not forgive their ignorance and how they had treated him all those years ago.

  Far from the cluster of homes, Galen’s cousin Evelyn and her husband Warrick lived in a cottage along the forests edge, on the top of a small hill. The additions Warrick had made were quite an impressive change from the raggedy shack it once was. As the only blacksmith within ten miles, he had built himself a small workshop, as well as a barn, which housed two horses and a few goats. Alongside the house was a massive enclosed garden, where Evelyn grew her herbs for cooking and medicinal purposes.

  Slowing his horse as he approached the cottage, Galen felt a sharp pain in his chest as if a pin had pricked his heart; for further down the tree line, he could make out a small cemetery. Ten years had passed since he last paid his respects, and not a day had gone that he had forgotten the names etched in stone.

  Tying his horse up in the barn, he walked down the hill toward the small gated cemetery. As he swung open the rusty gate, he walked through the rows of graves, passing by familiar names. Memories of his youth ran rampant, like water cascading down a waterfall. One after another, he recalled a specific memory of each of the thirteen children as he passed each memorial, finally stopping in front of the grave marker on the end. Galen bent down on one knee and brushed off the snow from the top of the stone to reveal the worn-out name. Though no bodies were laid to rest within the ground, the markers stood as symbols for lives once lost.

  “Galen?” Evelyn said, as she opened the gate to the abandoned cemetery. As Evelyn stepped through, the gate latched behind her. Quietly, she kneeled down next to him.

  “Tis so many of them.”

  “Thirteen,” he responded, not lifting his gaze from the stone.

  “That must’a been one hell of a day, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Dinner is almost ready. I am glad ye decided to join us. It has been far too long.”

  Galen looked to her and gave her a genuine smile.

  “Aye, it has. ‘Tis cold Ev; ye should go in. I will be in but a moment.”

  “Alright. But dinna be too long, or ye’ll catch yer death out in this cold,” she said as she stood and walked away.

  Galen watched for a moment as his cousin headed back toward the cottage before turning his attention back to the gravestone. The thirteen empty graves were a constant reminder of a promise he’d made to himself that was yet to be fulfilled.

  “I have no’ forgotten about ye, my dearest friend,” he whispered, as he traced his fingers across the letters of her name. LuElla.

  The moment Galen stepped inside Evelyn’s home it was as if he had stepped into an herb garden. The aroma of rosemary, mint and sage filled the air. Bundles of dried plants and herbs hung upside-down from the rafters in the kitchen, there was a vase on every table, and the mantle was full of flowers and plants. With dark wood walls and greenery throughout the cottage, it was as if she lived in a house built for a fairy. All she needed to complete the ensemble was a pair of wings and pointy toed shoes.

  After exchanging a brief greeting, the two men sat down on opposite sides of the small rectangular table as Evelyn placed a pitcher of mead on the table and a mug in front of each of them.

  “I made it myself,” she explained, as she set a third mug down in front of a vacant chair and hurried herself back to the kitchen.

  “She has been cooking all day. No doubt ‘cause of her excitement that ye have finally decided to join us,” Warrick said.

  “It has been far too long, and I am looking forward to a hearty meal.”

  “Well, I certainly hope ye are hungry, fer she has been cooking up a feast fer twelve,” Warrick whispered, though his effort was for nothing; Evelyn poked her head around the corner and gave Warrick a wicked glare.

  “Ye just remember, Warrick McAndrews, I have ears like an owl,” Evelyn said with a bit of sarcasm, causing Galen to proudly smile at his quick-witted cousin.

  Galen knew that not only was Evelyn the best healer in all of Scotland but she wielded a tongue as sharp as a sword. Even Galen knew not to tease her.

  Evelyn came into the dining area with the platter of food: stewed potatoes, a loaf of bread, and the most delicious-looking herb-encrusted grouse Galen had ever seen.

  Warrick leaned forward and ripped off a small piece of the greasy bird before popping it into his mouth. Evelyn lightly smacked him on the back of his head.

  “We havenae even said grace yet, and already ye are getting yer fingers dirty!” Evelyn scolded him.

  “Well, Lassie, if ye didn’t cook me such good food, I wouldn’t be so tempted to eat it,” Warrick retorted.

  Evelyn rolled her eyes at her teasing husband. After a pleasant offering of prayer, Evelyn began dishing the food onto Galen’s plate.

  “Ye really have outdone yerself, Ev,” Galen praised.

  Evelyn gleamed. “Galen, we have splendid news to share wit’ ye,” Evelyn said, as she grabbed Warrick’s hand. “I am wit’ child,” she announced.

  Galen could see the joy in Evelyn’s eyes. She had confessed a while back that they had been trying for the past two years, and at one point thought perhaps she was barren.

  “I am verra happy for ye, for the both of ye. Well, then this calls for a celebration! A toast,” he said as he lifted his glass. “May yer child be as gracious as their mother, as strong as their father, and as good looking as me!” Galen said with a tight-lipped smile before slamming back his drink.

  “Ye must tell me, have ye accepted the offer for Lady McFadden’s hand? Tis all everyone has been gossiping about. Ye two would make such a lovely pair, and tis about time there was a Lady of the castle,” Evelyn asked.

  “I dinna know my love life was up fer discussion. And ye obviously dinna know Lady McFadden!” Galen replied. “I would no’ marry Lady Braelyn if the King himself demanded it.”

  “She cannae be that bad. E’en in good lighting she is quite bonny,” Warrick added.

  “The lass is a trollop. It would be easier to train a stubborn horse than make an honest wife out of her. Besides, I no’ wish to settle down. I dinna have time for such things as a wife or a bairn.”

  “Oh, of course ye have time. Perhaps I can introduce ye to one of the available lassies in the village!” Evelyn suggested before Galen quickly turned her down.

  “I appreciate the thought, Ev, but if I were to consider marriage, I think I would prefer finding me own lass. Preferably one with a firm backside and who does no’ need a lot of attention,” he joked.

  “Ye men are simply incorrigible!”

  Galen had knowingly lied to his cousin when he said that he did not wish to take a wife. It was more a half truth. Even though he often times felt that women had outlandish ideas about how the world worked, he admired their compassion towards even the simplest of things. A woman’s psyche was a dangerous place, but they could live and love with conviction.

  Like others of his stature, the demands of his clan kept him from pursuing a leisurely lifestyle, and he saw no opportunity to find a lass to marry. The prospects were few, and his clan already had alliances with the neighboring clans, so there was no need for a union. But it was more than that; he did not want to settle with just any lass for the sake of marriage or duty. He wanted the impossible, a lass who could challenge him and win his heart. But that was never going to happen. He had yet to meet a woman who could live up to his standards. He felt he was a doomed man with a troubled soul and a bleak, solitary future.

  “Well, Evelyn, I wish to thank ye for a fine dinner, but I must be off. If ye continue to cook meals like this I may have to employ ye as our cook instead of our healer.”

  “If ye keep sending these men off to battle I’m afraid ye may no’ see a meal like this in quite some time.”

  Galen stood from his chair and donned his cloak. Bi
dding goodbye, he headed towards the barn to retrieve his horse. Soon, he was heading back towards Dunquest. There was still so much to do before the night came upon him.

  Chapter 5

  With eternal darkness cast over the land it was hard to distinguish day from night. The fortress, built deep in the earth, was the only thing that remained untouched by the curse.

  Once her bag was packed, Ella tossed it over her shoulder, then ran up the stairs and outside into the forest. With a high pitched whistle, she called for her horse. The horse came at her command within moments. Swinging a leg over its side, she mounted. Snapping the reins, Ella led the horse through the dark forest towards the ruins of Lochmoor.

  Had Ella shared her kin’s magical gift of wings, it would have made this journey much faster. Even at full speed it would take three days to reach the Kingdom of Greylyn. With little time to waste, she slammed her foot along the horse’s side, urging him to ride harder.

  After several hours of riding, Ella finally came to the river, which she must cross to reach Lochmoor. Ella pulled hard on the reins, making the horse come to an abrupt halt. Scanning the tree line, she watched the woods for any sign of life. Her mission would be over if she was caught by Greylyn guards. Knowing it was too deep and dangerous to travel by horse, she quietly dismounted. She would have to travel by foot the rest of the way. Lightly, she tapped the side of his neck, encouraging him to leave. She waited as the horse turned and trotted off before heading down the ravine.

  Making her descent down the slippery slope of the river bed, Ella used the fallen logs and rocks to cross until she reached the shoreline. On the other side of the river was a wall of stone that stood no higher than her hip. Crouched down behind a wall, she hid. Lifting her head, she peeked over the wall. Ella had to be patient to cross the ruins.