Bonus Prologue

BONUS PROLOGUE

O ctober 1587, three months earlier

“Alana, are ye sure we’re goin’ the right way?” Liam asked his sister-in-law doubtfully as they pushed their way through the dripping forest a half-day’s ride from Castle Lennox.

They had made the trip on the suggestion of Maddison, Lady Lennox. Alana, being the healer of Castle Lennox, was in search of a special medicine made from a particularly rare herb only found in the south of England. It might as well have been the moon, and Alana had so far had no success in tracking it down. It was Maddison’s hastily drawn map which she was consulting now.

“Hmm, I’m nae sure, but accordin’ tae the map, we should be very near the cottage,” she said.

“Gimme the map, maybe I can work out where we are,” Liam said, holding out his hand. Alana passed it to him, and they studied it together.

“There’s the main track, and there’s where it branches off tae the left.” He pointed to the markings and then looked around. “We passed the burnt pine a while back, so the turning should be around here somewhere.”

“The map’s nae tae scale. Maybe we just havetae go a wee bit further tae come tae the right path,” Alana suggested.

“Aye, maybe so. Come on then, let’s keep goin’.” They continued picking their way through the sodden undergrowth.

Suddenly, they were both distracted by the sound of something large moving through the trees nearby. Their heads snapped towards the sound.

“Can ye see what it is, Liam?” Alana asked, clutching his arm nervously.

He shook his head, unable to see anything to account for the sound. “Probably a deer or a boar,” he said, tensing as he realized that whatever was responsible for the loud rustling and snapping of twigs and branches was coming towards them.

“Get behind me, Alana. If ’tis a boar, it could be dangerous.” Liam gently pushed her back. Silently, he unsheathed his sword, his hackles rising because he could see nothing before them. He jumped when Alana suddenly let out a shrill scream behind him.

“What is it?” he asked her, his heart thudding in his chest as he scanned the trees.

She grabbed his arm and pointed dead ahead. “There, look, by the big oak tree!” She shrank back behind him.

Liam looked, and to his utter amazement, saw in front of them, less than fifty fete away, a large, black, shaggy head poking out from behind the trunk of an oak tree. The head was pointed their way, along with a set of dark-brown eyes almost as big as saucers.

“What the hell is that?” Liam whispered; his blade poised to defend them. “I’ve nae seen anythin’ like it before.”

“Me neither,” Alana replied, her voice shaking.

“Stay absolutely still,” he instructed, keeping his eyes on the bizarre creature as it slowly emerged from behind the trunk. Liam’s mouth went dry as he studied it. It was the size of a small pony, its broad head as big as his shield. The thing had large ears that flopped over, a long muzzle like a wolf’s, with many thick, white whiskers sticking out of it. A large black nose almost as big as his fist sniffed at them from a distance. The strange beast had four legs, and was covered in coarse, shaggy black fur.

It did not bare its teeth like a wolf, nor did it make any menacing moves towards them. It simply stood by the tree as though inviting them to observe it, staring at them fixedly with its large, peculiarly soulful, dark-brown eyes.

After a few moments of this tense stand-off, Liam murmured over his shoulder, “’Tis definitely nae a wolf. It daesnae seem tae intend tae attack us.”

“Nay. D’ye think it could be some sort of… dog?” Alana ventured in a frightened whisper. “What’s it doin’ now?” she asked as the thing went down on its forepaws, like a dog wanting to play. Some of the tension drained from Liam, and he lowered his blade. “Look, Alana, ye’re right, I think ’tis a dog, and ’tis waggin’ its tail!”

“Aye, I think it must be the dog Maddison told me about, the one that belongs tae the witch. She said ’tis enormous, and that it has the eyes and mind of a man.”

As if endorsing her words, the dog opened its jaws wide, showing two rows of pointy white fangs, and gave a tremendous yawn, which ended with a soft sighing that sounded uncannily human. It stood up and slowly turned around, as though it would depart.

“It wants us tae follow it, I think,” he told Alana, sheathing his sword.

She nodded beneath her hood. “Aye, it looks like it. D’ye think the witch sent it tae find us?”

“Dinnae be so foolish. How could she when she daesnae even ken we’re comin’?” he scoffed.

“Maddy told me that Selma has many strange powers. When they went tae see her before, they called unannounced, but somehow, she was expectin’ them.”

“Coincidence,” he muttered, his eyes still on the dog. “Come on, let’s follow it. If it truly does belong tae the witch, it may lead us tae her cottage,” Alana said, stepping after it.

“Aye, all right. We’re lost anyway.” Liam agreed. So, they followed the dog, and in a surprisingly short time, they came to the edge of a large clearing.

There stood a cottage with a broken-backed roof of thatch. A stream of gray smoke rose into the air from the crumbling chimney. The small windows were covered with what appeared to be oiled cloth, and no light could be seen from the outside. In between was a scarred front door.

“This looks like the home of a witch if ever I saw one,” he murmured, surveying the gloomy, run-down place. The rain only made it appear more dismal than it already was. A sense of foreboding washed over him.

The shaggy creature headed at its leisurely pace straight for the cottage, with Liam and Alana following at a safe distance. But they both stopped when the door swung open before the dog reached it, fully expecting to see someone standing there to greet them. But there was no one, and all was darkness within.

A chill ran up Liam’s spine. He felt Alana’s hand grope for his, and he clasped

hers tightly, suddenly grateful for the human warmth and companionship it offered.

“Liam, did ye see that?” she breathed in a quavering voice. “The door opened on its own. How is that possible?”

“I dunno, but it gives me the willies,” he admitted, watching the giant dog pad through the open door and into the cottage. He would rather have been on the battlefield facing his worst foes than standing there.

“Should we go in?” she asked.

“We should at least go and see if anyone’s home,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Ye mean see if the witch is home.” She gripped his hand tightly.

He did not reply but put his other hand on the hilt of his sword and walked slowly towards the door, with Alana trailing behind him. The darkness beyond the open door seemed to beckon them inside.

“We’d best knock first,” Alana suggested in a whisper.

“Go on then,” he replied, “I have me hands full.” His heart was thudding in his ears.

Hesitantly, she raised her hand and was about to knock when a scratchy, irritable voice from inside suddenly called out, “Well, are ye gonnae stand out there all day, or are ye comin’ in? ’Tis cold on me old bones, and ye’re lettin’ in the rain.”

They almost jumped out of their skins and looked at each other with alarm. Get a hold of yersel’, man, Liam told himself sternly. He pulled back his shoulders and stood tall. “I’ll go first,” he whispered. Letting go of Alana’s hand, he took a deep breath and stepped slowly over the threshold into the gloom. He felt Alana holding onto the back of his jerkin as she followed him in.

A low cackle came from his left. He looked over and saw a small, hunched figure stirring a pot hanging over the fire blazing in the hearth with a long spoon.

“By the old Gods, ye took yer time gettin’ here.” The figure turned its head and looked over its shoulder. It revealed itself to be an ancient woman with a lined face and milky eyes. In the firelight, she looked almost devilish, her toothless mouth a dark, grinning cavern. “I havenae all day tae spend waitin’ fer ye, ye ken? I’m a busy woman. I had tae send out Grim tae find ye and bring ye here.”

She turned back to her pot, stirring the bubbling contents with a long spoon. Liam stared at her thick hank of wispy white hair that fell to the earthen floor from beneath a knitted cap. His skin prickled with unease. If ever there was a model for a witch, she was it. Grim?

It was then he noticed the gigantic hound laying on the floor a few feet from its mistress, near an old wooden settle, seemingly fast asleep.

The witch said in a gentler voice, “Well, now ye’re here, ye’d best come on in and warm yersel’s by the fire. Old Grim’ll nae hurt ye.”

“Thank ye kindly. Are ye Miss Selma?” Alana asked, stepping out bravely from behind him. Liam felt safer staying near the door.

“Aye, lassie, I’m Selma. Give me a hand up, will ye?” A tiny, gnarled paw appeared from beneath what resembled a pile of rags and groped in the air.

“Och, of course.” Alana hurried over, took the witch’s hand in hers, and supported her as she hauled herself to her feet, her bones cracking.

“Ach, thank ye, dear,” Selma said, bestowing on Alana one of her toothless smiles as she brushed down her layers of rusty garb.

She’s nae more than a harmless old lady, Liam told himself . ’Tis just this awful place that puts ye on edge.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Selma shot him a mirthful glance. “Aye, that’s right, lad, ye keep on believin’ that, eh? Old Selma’s just a wee old lady, nae harm in her at all. And there’s nae such things as witches.” She let out one of her low cackles, chilling his blood.

Selma hobbled over to a battered armchair by the hearthside and lowered herself into it. She smiled at Alana. “Ye’re pretty fer a healer, arenae ye, lassie?”

“H-how dae ye ken I’m a healer,” Alana asked, going pale.

“Ah, there’s nae much I dinnae ken, pet,” Selma replied. “That’s me blessin’ and me curse.” Her pale eyes fixed on Liam, increasing his unease, though he tried to conceal it. She was rapidly converting him from skeptic to believer.

But while staring at him, she carried on talking to Alana. “See that little bottle on the table there, lass? The one with the red wax seal?”

Alana looked over. “Aye, I see it. D’ye ye want me tae fetch it over fer ye?”

“Nay, hinny. That’s the medicine ye came fer.”

Alana stared at her with surprise. “But how could ye?—”

The witch grinned. “I told ye, there’s nae much old Selma daesnae ken. Dinnae fash yersel’ about it. Just take the bottle. Give yer patient three spoonful’s each day, mornin’, noon, and evenin’. He’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

“Och, thank ye, Miss Selma, I’m very grateful tae ye. What will ye take fer it?” Alana asked, her relief clearly overcoming her fear.

“Naethin’ ye can give me, pet. Tae ken ’tis helpin’ a poor soul who’s sick is more than enough thanks. Ye ken I like tae use me powers fer healin’ where I can.”

Alana smiled. “Aye, I ken ye’re a good woman because me sister-in-law told me so. Ye helped tae cure her of a terrible melancholy.”

“Aye, I remember. But the sword cured her, nae me.”

Liam’s skin prickled again. The witch knew who Alana was talking about without even asking Maddison’s name. But how?

“Well, if ye willnae take any payment fer the medicine, is there somethin’ we could dae fer ye perhaps before we go? Dae ye need anythin’ mendin’, or can Liam here chop some wood fer ye?”

“Nay, I have me friends who keep me well supplied with whatever I need, but I appreciate yer kind offer.” To Liam’s great discomfort, the witch continued looking at him. Then she said, “But I have somethin’ tae tell yer man there though.”

He felt himself blanch. “Tell m-me?” he stuttered, finding it hard to meet her stare.

“Aye. A wee bird told it tae me this mornin’ and said I’m tae tell it tae ye when ye get here. I never thought ye’d take such a long time!” She laughed as though tickled by his obvious discomfiture.

“But ye dinnae ken me. We’ve nae met before. How can ye have somethin’ tae tell me?” he asked, goosebumps breaking out all over him.

“I’m tae tell ye that ye’re about tae meet the love of yer life. But when ye dae, ye’ll be tempted tae succumb tae yer fears.” Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. “If ye dae, ye’ll lose her fer sure, and happiness will never be yers.”

He was shaken and had no clue how to respond the witch’s supposed prophecy. It was a relief when Alana retrieved the bottle and came back to his side. “Thank ye, Miss Selma,” she said. “Since ye’re busy, we’ll take our leave now. I should get back and give me patient the medicine as soon as possible.”

“Aye, of course,” Selma agreed with a nod. She looked at Liam once again. “Heed me words, lad,” she told him sternly. He did not need reminding of them, nor did he reply. Instead, he backed away towards the door, with Alana following behind. But before he could reach it, it swung open by itself.

A chill ran down his back as he hurried through it, feeling grateful for the rain and cold which greeted him outside. The door closed behind them, muffling the sound of the old witch’s laughter. It echoed in his mind along with her prophecy all the way back through the wood. He did not even have time to think how easy it was to find their way back to the main track.