Melanie Karsak
Highland Blood
for the survivors
Chapter 1
I took two hesitant steps into the darkness. Thora bumped against my leg. My head felt dizzy. My temples pounded. A sharp pain seared across my forehead, making me wince. It was all I could do to stay upright. Thora began to whimper when the darkness didn’t pass. We were stuck between worlds. The silence was thick and heavy, the darkness tangible. If I didn’t focus, we could get lost forever in the in-between space, neither the realm of the living nor the otherworld. I shuddered at the thought. I forced myself to concentrate past the pain racking my body. I could feel the living, breathing world just beyond my grasp. It was like someone had dropped a black veil between me and the realm of the corporeal. I breathed in deeply, trying to inhale the smell of earth, to hear the sounds of nature, to feel the living energy which belonged to the world of men.
It felt like an eternity before the sound of trickling water came to my ears. The sharp, tangy scent of mud filled my nostrils. We’d made it back. We were in the realm of the living but where? It was so dark. I took a few steps forward but my foot caught on something, and I fell into the wet mud face first. Thora whined. I reached out in the darkness and felt mud, roots, water, and gritty stone. We were in a cave. Water dripped from roots overhead. The air was spiced with elemental smells. I rose and wiped the mud off my face and out of my mouth. Carefully, I reached out and touched the cave wall. It was wet and slimy.
Using the cave wall as a guide, I worked my way forward. Water trickled over my hand, down my arm, and into my dress. My foot slipped. When I reached out to steady myself, I felt the soft body of a bat. It screeched and flew out of the cave.
I jarred sideways and fell into the mud again.
Thora whimpered.
“It’s okay, girl. We’ll get out of here, and everything will be okay,” I said, trying to convince both her and myself.
It was too dark to see, but I knew my hands, knees, and elbows were bleeding. Mud worked into the cuts. The wounds stung. I dashed away hot tears of frustration and tried to keep my focus on my task. This was just a small inconvenience. My physical body could survive this discomfort. At the end of this trial, my love would be waiting for me. A marriage contract…finally, Madelaine had secured my match with Banquo.
“Let’s go,” I told Thora then pushed forward again.
Sliding and falling repeatedly, I walked in the darkness. My clothes were completely soaked and covered in sludge. I was bleeding. My hair was caked with muck and leaves. I must have looked like one of the fey things from the Hollow Hills. As the thought crossed my mind, I remembered the skeleton in Ynes Verleath…the Lord of the Hollow Hills. He was no legend. I had seen his skeleton. And if he had lived, what about those strange creatures that were rumored to roam the earth’s belly? Were they real too? I suddenly felt eyes on me. It was as if I had summoned them with my very imagination. Were the little people of the Hollow Hills, vicious creatures of legends, watching me? If I failed to leave their realm, what would happen to me? I trembled.
Startling me from my terror, however, Thora barked and ran ahead.
I squinted. A dim light appeared at the end of the cave. I could hear the rain and the sound of the wind rushing through leaves.
“Thank you,” I whispered and pushed ahead.
A moment later, I found myself standing at the mouth of a cave in the side of a mountain. It was raining heavily and must have been just hours before dark. Lightning shot across the sky, followed by the rolling sound of thunder. A screech owl shrieked somewhere in the distance. The cliffside was mud-washed. From the looks of things, it had been raining for days.
Thora paced back and forth, looking for a way down. Finally, she gave up and ran down the hillside. She looked up at me expectantly.
“Patience,” I whispered. Stepping carefully onto the muddy hillside, I crouched down and slid down the side of the hill, grasping at roots and grass to keep from tumbling over. Something sharp dug into my palm, slicing open the hand I’d cut during my handfasting. At last, I reached the bottom. I was caked with grime from head to toe.
“When I see Andraste again, she’s going to hear about this,” I told Thora as I reached under my skirts to my petticoat. It was wet but relatively clean. I ripped off a piece of fabric and mopped up the blood pooling in my palm. Pain shot up my arm. I’d need to see Epona at once. A cut like that could get infected easily. I tried to catch some rainwater to wash my palm, but my hand was bleeding profusely. I poured the red liquid onto the leaves. It dripped down my arm. The image of my hands covered in so much blood made me swoon. I leaned against a tree and tied my hand up, hoping it would stop the flow.
Exhaling deeply, I looked around. I didn’t recognize the forest.
“I’m too exhausted. My magic is spent. I don’t know if I can get us back. Can you lead us?” I asked Thora.
She barked, set her nose to the ground, and moved forward. The forest was alive with noise. The wind blew. Rain patted on the leaves. Birds called. Ynes Verleath was a silent place. It jarred my senses to hear the cacophony. Thora moved with purpose, and we walked through the dark forest, following her instincts which, given my state, I trusted better than my own. It grew dark. The rain slowed to a steady patter. The air around us became thick with mist, making our travel even more difficult. Walking in the haze—with my spirit already worn so thin by time spent in Ynes Verleath—worried me. The veil between the worlds was always porous in the fog. One could walk in and out of time and space without even realizing it. And I felt like I was half between the worlds already. I forced myself to focus on the real world, on the realm of the living, and pushed myself forward, following Thora.
All my senses were on edge, so when a red deer blasted out of the brush, I yelped. Thora, who had not had the opportunity to chase game in so long, took off through the woods after it.
“Thora, come back here. Thora!”
She ran over a knoll and disappeared into the mists and darkness.
“Thora!”
There was no use. She wouldn’t come back until she’d given chase. I followed the direction toward which Thora was leading us. Soon, I came to a narrow cart path. I didn’t know where I was, but at least I knew I was headed somewhere. I walked alone in the rain, trying to catch my bearings. Suddenly, I heard the sound of jangling metal and rough voices. Riders. I could see the light of torches coming down the path toward me. I had to get out of sight. Moving quickly, I dodged behind a thicket. Thorns scraped my skin as I struggled to hide, but I soon realized there wasn’t enough cover. Moments later, the party came trotting down the road.
From the cover of brush, I could see there were seven men in the party. They wore heavy armor.
“Halt,” one of them called then reined his horse forward. “Come out, girl.”
I froze.
“No use in hiding. We saw you on the road. So unless you are a fey thing, come and stand before your betters.”
I took a deep breath and reminded myself to stay calm. Covered in mud from head to toe, no one would ever recognize me. Perhaps they were but lost in the woods. I would play the role of a dumb woodland girl. Surely, they would not see Boite’s daughter under the grime.
I stepped out of my hiding spot. When I got a better view, however, I was shocked to discover that not only were the men well-armored, but they were bearing my uncle’s—King Malcolm's—standard. The men held their torches aloft. Their armor glimmered. I steeled my nerve. I was a poor woodsman’s daughter. I was nothing. I was no one.