The Return of the Highlander [EBOOK]

Chapter 1<br>

A clap of thunder echoed off the stone cliffs of the Isle of Mull as Charlotte Browning, newly arrived from Yorkshire to visit with her aunt and uncle to clear her lungs of the dreaded disease of consumption, began to run as fast as she could to escape the sheets of rain that had begun to fall all around her. She had not expected this violent storm, and as she hastened to find shelter, lightning began to tear through the heavens above her, threatening her on every front.<br>

Charlotte was not a person who was easily frightened. For several years, contrary to the predictions of the many doctors who had told her parents in hushed tones that she was a terminal case, she had battled this disease, known as ‘the wasting disease’ by some, and ‘tuberculosis’ by the physicians who were most up to date. She had suffered for years from long nights filled with terrible dreams and terrors, wracking coughs and frightful blood-soaked handkerchiefs, until, by dint of great effort and determination, the symptoms began to subside. Her doctor, the brilliant young firebrand, Silas Milne, prescribed a rigorous regimen of exercise and fresh air, convinced as he was that it was the awful and dirty air of Sheffield that was most to blame.<br>

But Charlotte was determined to make a full recovery against all odds, and it was this that led her to be alone on the Scottish moor just as this frightening storm descended. Not thirty yards away from the galloping young woman was an old and gnarled tree, garishly lit up by the flashing blasts of lightning that began to burst around her as she ran. It looked something like an oak tree, Charlotte guessed, but it exploded into a million tiny wood chips as it was hit by a bolt of lightning. In the bright flash from the explosion, she saw a vision before her, something unlike anything she had ever seen before. It resembled a man with long, bright, fiery hair, clad in a colorful tartan dress the like of which she had never seen before.<br>

“Halloo!” she cried, raising her arms. She had a sense this apparition had heard her. In the gathering gloom, she lost sight of the vision, and with the smattering of lightning flashes around her, the vision receded without responding.<br>

“Are you safe?” she cried. And then she tried very hard to hear the response, but heard nothing but the howls of the wind and the crack of distant lightning.<br>

Shielding her face from the pelting water and the flying pieces of wood, Charlotte slowed her pace as she saw the light from the window of the castle only a few hundred yards away. Perhaps it was a mirage or a spirit she had seen, for she had heard that the lands of Mull were haunted by the spirits of the many who had died here in recent years since the Battle of Culloden Moor.<br>

Rather than flee from this inclement weather and the spirits that haunted it, Charlotte embraced it, smiling at the feel of the pelting, cool raindrops on her face.<br>

She tasted the sweet, clean water that fell as a gentle rain from heaven as the storm blew out over the sea. “I know I am alive,” she said to herself. “I know I will live because the Lord has baptized me with the purest water of the Hebrides!”<br>

Moments later, as she pulled open the large iron-studded oak door, her Aunt Catherine, the slender reed of a Yorkshire woman who had married the great barrel-chested Scotsman, Kenneth Campbell, one of the few Scots who had sided with the English, and who had reaped the reward of land that had belonged to the Highlanders, greeted her. Although Charlotte knew little or nothing of the history of these islands, the Campbells were reviled by many highlanders because of their turncoat ways, and Kenneth was one of the worst. A boorish bear of a man, he cared nothing for the crofters, who remained on the island and regularly burned their farms to terrorize the local population. Catherine though was a kindly woman, soft-spoken and mousy in her demeanor, given to whispering her responses against the bellows that was her husband’s customary speech volume.<br>

“My dear, you are drenched through and through,” she said, bustling to fetch a towel to dab the raindrops from her niece’s smiling face.<br>

“Oh, Aunt Catherine,” she gushed. “It is most exhilarating! I saw the most magical visions out on the heath.”<br>

“Aye, you are wont to see things that men rarely see out there, my dear!” she said in an exaggerated stage whisper. “For there is more than the natural world at work here on the Isle of Mull.”<br>

Charlotte was confused. “What do you mean, Auntie?” she asked.<br>

“The people of this island have long spoken of the spirits of the nether realm. For here there are selkies, a sort of people who shapeshift between human and seal. There are spirits that haunt the heath, and there are many, many intercessors to the other world. And most of the people have been here before.”<br>

Charlotte, who never lacked for imagination, smiled with joy at the possibility of living in a place where angels dare to tread, where those beings who live in the half-believed other world appear and interact with the beings from the natural world.<br>
“I saw one such spirit,” she said excitedly.<br>
Her aunt blanched. “Nae!” she said. “You didna!” Charlotte was taken with the way her aunt had adopted much of the speech pattern of the noble Highland Scots as some sort of gesture of respect. This was in contrast to Kenneth who did his utmost to lose his hated Scottish accent.<br>
“It was a fiery being and beautiful figure, similar to a man, but far more exciting and more handsome than any man I have ever seen,” she said, breathing heavily still.
“There are more things here that you can imagine in your wildest dreams!”<br>
This very sentence filled Charlotte with joy. This was the most wonderful thing she could imagine. Spirits haunting the heath! “Oh, auntie, you cannot imagine how wonderful it is to be here among the spirit world!”<br>
“But beware, Charlotte. For the spirits of the highlands are known to be terrible and vindictive.”<br>
“This spirit seemed friendly enough.”<br>
“Aye, the spirits of the netherworld are a dangerous lot. They can fool you into thinking they are helping you whilst plotting your demise.”<br>
Again, a shiver went through Charlotte. She was thrilled by this idea and vowed to learn more about the spirits. As her aunt went to get some tea to warm her gullet, Charlotte took her leather-bound notebook from the folds of her skirts and set to work writing down her experience for further reflection.<br>
She sat at a small table, alone and lost in her thoughts and reveries as Mairi, the young Scottish girl who was employed as a maid, came by. She stood by Charlotte, silently watching for several minutes until Charlotte became aware of her.<br>
“What is it, Mairi?” asked Charlotte.<br>
“It’s only that the mistress has told aboot your experience, Miss Charlotte.”<br>
“Please, Mairi, I want to be friends. Just call me Charlotte.”<br>
“I will, miss ... Charlotte. Your auntie tells me o’ your experience on the heath. ‘Tis a boon to see a selkie, you ken.”<br>
“A boon?”<br>
“Aye. They bear the tidings from the netherworld. You’ve been geen a wink into the spirit world.” Her Scottish brogue was pronounced and exciting to Charlotte, who was thrilled by everything Scottish.<br>
“I am honored, then,” said Charlotte.<br>
“Aye, tis a boon, but ye must find oot more aboot the spirits. Learn all you can so they dinna take you away to live amongst their kith.”<br>
“I shall. That is why I am putting quill to paper,” said Charlotte. “To learn about them.”<br>
“A wise thing tae do, Miss Charlotte. The selkies live in the caves aboon the rocks by the sea.”<br>
“I’ll explore them tomorrow!” She moved away like a ghost, silently and mysteriously. Charlotte picked up her quill and began to write.