Highland Fate (Guardians of Scotland Book 3) Read online

  Highland Fate

  Guardians of Scotland Book 3

  Victoria Zak

  Contents

  Newsletter Signup Victoria Zak

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Newsletter Signup Victoria Zak

  About Victoria Zak

  Books by Victoria Zak

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  Highland Fate, Guardians of Scotland Book 3

  Victoria Zak

  Copyright 2015 by Victoria Zak

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author and publisher.

  All characters, events, and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or living, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design by JAB Designs

  Editing by Kathryn Lynn Davis and Julie Roberts

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  As most of my readers know, this year has been a trying and difficult one. My world came to a screeching halt back in November 2014 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was editing Highland Storm and writing Highland Fate on top of gearing up for the holidays. Needless to say I had to make a lot of decisions that would change my life forever very quickly. When my Oncologist told me, “Victoria, we need to start treatments now.” It was clear to me what I had to do, kill my cancer. But I still wanted to write.

  I took two months off and then I hit the keys, a slow go but I was writing. Throughout my fight, I could not have made it through my treatments and complete Highland Fate without encouragement from my family, friends, and my readers. You lifted me up when I needed a boost and you gave me the courage to fight. This book is dedicated to all of you who have supported me and those who are still battling this horrible disease.

  Victoria Zak

  Prologue

  Death was but a footstep away. She could hear it, smell it, and feel its outstretched icy fingers clawing at her back. It was only a matter of time before it would hunt her and her daughter down. Like a predator, it displayed unwavering endurance, waiting for the ideal time to attack its quarry. It toyed with her relentlessly day after day, keeping her moving from village to village in order to protect her babe. This was the game from which death derived its greatest pleasure; keeping her on the run.

  The sound of blood rushing like a stream through her veins and the heavy thumping of her heart was enough to keep the chase alive. They knew what she possessed would change the world, and they would stop at nothing to gain that control, that power.

  A sweet giggle brought the woman’s attention to her cherub-cheeked daughter who sat outside, unbalanced, petting a black cat. The cat rubbed against the child’s chest and in the blink of an eye, caused the babe to tumble over. Frightened cries exploded from the child’s mouth and the furry black feline darted from the scene. Picking up her daughter, the mother dusted the dirt from the wailing child’s face and consoled her. “Shhh, there, there, my love. ’Tis only a wee fall. Shhh, ye be well.” The mother ever so gently bounced the babe in her arms, knowing her words were far from the truth.

  Life would never be well for her as long as she was exposed. She was a sitting target whilst they stayed hidden in the village. It wouldn’t be long now before death would pick up their trail, snuff them out and destroy their lives. She could feel it in her bones.

  She took the child inside her small thatch-roofed home, and the babe stopped crying once her mother placed her on a blanket with a few small handmade toys to intrigue her curious mind. The babe snatched a wooden doll made out of rowan twigs. She was intrigued by its little white dress. The mother made her way to the bed where she sat and watched her love. Since the day she was born, the child had always been the curious kind, and smart beyond her age. She was no more than six months old and already showed so much promise. Knowing who her father was, there was no doubt that her daughter was different from the average child. If only the babe’s father was here now, they would be under his protection.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. That dream was far, too far, from reality. The man she’d met over a year ago could never know about his daughter; he could never know her mother’s true identity. Her one mistake in leaving her realm had led to a life on the run, but most importantly, it had led her to one amazing man who had given her the most precious gift—a child. But how quickly she had created a mess. Regrets were only for people who felt guilty, and she most definitely did not feel guilty for her actions. She only wished she lived in a world where she could exist freely and happily.

  Alas, she could not return to her realm, especially with a child. One look at her and they would know she had broken the rules. One regulation—plainly stated and firmly followed—was that, under no circumstances should anyone leave. It was safe there, unlike the human world where their enemies lurked and waited to steal their magic. Like her daughter she was curious, almost bored. She had left her realm craving a man’s touch. Just one night, that’s what she’d told herself. One night, then she would return home. But she hadn’t planned on meeting the most intriguing man, who in one night loved her thoroughly and made her feel every bit a woman.

  And now look where her curiosity had led her; to this strange town, protecting her daughter and staying one step ahead of death. Frankly it was destroying not only her, but ultimately it would also destroy her child.

  The babe looked at her mother, yawned, and gave her a smile. A smile with no words, yet it held trust, and she knew what she had to do; she had to keep her daughter safe.

  The sun was setting behind the vibrant orange clouds as she opened the door and scanned the outside of her home for death. It was eerily peaceful, too quiet for her liking. Not even the townsfolk stirred. A breeze blew through the village, chilling her to the bone. The time had come again; they had to leave.

  As quick as she could, she gathered a few necessities and prepared her horse for travel. Once everything was ready, the mother turned to her babe, who was now fast asleep cuddled with her doll of rowan twigs. The babe slept innocently. Her lips were partly open, her tiny hands fisted and twitching. The mother smiled at her daughter’s beauty. As the gray cloud surrounding her darkened, she realized she had to make haste and get them to safety.

  Reaching down she took the sleeping bundled babe into her arms and wrapped the child around her chest with a plaid. Tying the last piece of plaid securely around her waist, she slipped outside. Keeping her daughter silent in slumber was imperative. With shaking hands, she grabbed the horse’s reins and mounted.

  She dug her heels into the animal’s sides, indicating the urgency at hand. She had to make it to Dunfermline Abbey. Riding through the night and into mid-morn, she could make it with God’s grace. She had to, for evil could not avail there. With one firm squeeze of the woman’s legs, the horse shot through the village and disappeared into the forest.

  The woman’s long brown hair trailed behind her, whipping in the air as she rode through the unforgiving forest. Low-lying tree branches raked at her flawless skin and tore at her flesh. The ground grabbed at the horse’s hooves, causing the steed to stumble off balance. But through all her misfortunes, she stood firm; she was determined to make it to safety.

  The air chilled and the smell of sulfur grew. Glancing behind her, she could see the forest closing in on her through the glow of the full moon. Tree branches on either side of her began to touch, forming a tunnel. The ground shook as she felt the heaviness of hooves pounding the earth. This couldn’t be happening to her. She hadn’t spent the last six months in hiding to turn around and be clutched by death’s grip. Nay, she would fight it with everything she had.

  Abruptly she halted her horse and faced the menace. Black-cloaked figures on horseback appeared at the end of the trail. White foam dripped from the horses’ mouths in anticipation of the chase. Death was upon them. She placed her hands in front of her and closed her eyes. Bright white light shot from her hands toward the opening of the tunnel. Trees toppled over, closing the forest between them and their enemies. Harrowing screams of defeat echoed through the woods. They had avoided death this time, but for how long she did not know.

  Her babe stirred, wrinkled her forehead, and threatened to fuss. “Shhh, my love. We’re almost there.” The woman kicked her horse fo
rward and before long the babe fell fast asleep again.

  With the threat of danger long since passed, the stone walls of Dunfermline Abbey appeared a hoof beat away, which made the mother slow her pace. It was too soon for their time together to end, but it was the only way to keep her babe safe. Taking in a deep breath, the woman continued on the trail to the gatehouse of the abbey. Gently she dismounted, trying not to disturb the babe. She removed an open basket from the back of her saddle and placed her daughter snugly in it. Taking the basket with shaking hands, she cautiously strode into the gatehouse. No one was there. Thank the Gods!

  She placed the basket down and kneeled down before it. Her daughter was awake, looking up at her with deep, hazel eyes and outstretched arms. Tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks in streams. Was she really going through with this? Did she actually have the courage to do it, to leave her own flesh and blood? Could she will her legs to walk away from her daughter, abandoning her? The abbey was the safest place for her. The woman was protecting her child, but why did it have to hurt so bad? Her heart was breaking piece by aching piece.

  Reaching behind her neck, the mother removed her necklace with an egg-shaped locket dangling at the end of it. She held the locket in both hands and whispered over the trinket, then took the necklace and placed it over the babe’s head, hiding the locket underneath her dress. “This will keep ye safe, my love.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead.

  From out of nowhere, a man wearing a long, brown robe ran down the path leading to the gatehouse, calling out to her, “Ye can ‘no be in there.” The woman looked up in surprise. She had stayed too long. Being caught was not part of her plan. The plan was to leave the babe and walk away. No one was supposed to see her.

  Panicked, she ran and quickly mounted her horse, taking off through the forest. When it was safe, she glanced back to make sure the monk had indeed found her daughter. A sobering feeling, yet she smiled, knowing that her babe would be safe now. Death would no longer plague them as long as her daughter stayed at the abbey.

  1

  Heavy footfalls thundered on the ground as Red Hawk strode through the village, infuriated. His broad shoulders twitched and his spine tingled as he immersed himself in thought. He palmed his sgian-dubh, throwing the damn thing up into the air and catching it by its hilt. How could someone take his generosity for granted?

  The land of Helmfirth thrived with rolling fields of oats, properly equipped with healthy oxen to plow the earth. He’d made sure that the butcher in the village had a never-ending supply of the best meats and poultry and the finest equipment to do his job properly. In fact, Hawk had hunted game himself on several occasions in order to feed his people when times were hard.

  There were men-at-arms who defended this land and fought for Hawk with vigor, putting their country before their own lives. And Helmfirth flourished.

  In return all Hawk wanted was order in his village. The townsfolk had jobs to do and they did them well or suffered the consequences of disobedience. It was an eye-for-an-eye way of ruling over his people. It became personal when someone stole, cheated, or killed on his land. Not that it happened often, but when it did, he’d show no mercy. He was the Justiciar of Helmfirth, well respected and feared.

  There was good reason why Red Hawk led with a tight fist. He didn’t trust humans. Nay, he had learned long ago, when a human murdered his father, to keep his enemies close at hand. If it wasn’t for his two sisters, he wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about these people. His sisters needed peace and to live normal human lives. He owed them that.

  Undoubtedly the warrior protected this village with his life, making sure Helmfirth thrived for these people and this is how they repaid him? With thievery?

  Hawk passed several townsfolk, never once sparing a glance at them. Every last one of them made his gut lurch. The folks knew better than to cross the brooding Highlander’s path and scurried out of his way, bowing their heads so as not to meet his eyes.

  As he heatedly treaded through the village, Hawk came across an auld woman who was selling fish. Because Helmfirth bordered the sea, it had a busy port for trade and was known for the freshest fish around. He sheathed his sgian-dubh and stopped in front of her. She was no stranger. Once, sometimes twice a day he would buy a bucket of fish from her, before making his way to visit his ferocious friends.

  He threw the coins down on the table and snatched a pail. The woman knew better than to make small talk with the warrior today and nodded her head of graying hair, thanking him kindly for his purchase. Hawk humphed and strode off.

  Reaching a small stone-fronted building with a thatch roof, he sharply came to a stop before he entered. He slammed the bucket down into the dirt and paced, resolving to calm the rage ripping through his body. This was his sanctuary and he needed to calm his backside down before he entered.

  Taking a deep breath in through his nose, his jaw ticked and he exhaled. His dragon stirred relentlessly, begging to be released. His blood pulsed as he tamped down the urge to shift. Looking at the blue skies above him, the Highlander ran his fingers over his short red hair and composed himself, little by little. Once calm, he opened the door and with two strides he entered, bringing the bucket of fish with him.

  Dust specks danced in the air as the sun shined through five of the windows lining the opposite wall. Feathers ruffled and talons pranced on perches as the raptors waited in their mews for their food. However, it wasn’t entirely the provisions that made the birds of prey excitable; it was their master’s presence.

  One raptor in particular stood quietly as Hawk approached. The massive goshawk was unhooded and uncaged, perched alone on its jesses, showing remarkable patience as it waited for its master to prepare and tie a leather band around his forearm for the hawk to perch on.

  It was illegal to own such prestigious animals, but Hawk cared naught. If caught the punishment was the severing of one’s hands. Try as the mighty may, Hawk welcomed a confrontation with the sheriff or even the bloody king himself. If fact, slaying King Robert would right the wrong the king had done to his family years ago. Justice would finally be served.

  Hawk worked his jaw back and forth as he tightened the leather strap. “Humans,” he spat.

  The quaint hut was nestled inside his forest out of sight of the village, and his birds were hidden well. Being the forest dragon he was, and because he spent so much of his time in the glen, he had rescued the five raptors from either starving, being abandoned or whatever other cruelty life had sprung on them. Even though he found great solace around all his birds, nothing came close to the bond he had with his goshawk, Arlen.

  A shrill chirp softened his mood for the briefest moment as Hawk approached the raptor and motioned for it to perch on his arm. With ease and trust, the gray-spotted creature accepted and took its claim.

  Making his way through the hut, he fed the rest of the birds of prey, marveling at their beauty. He paused and held out a fish to a petite falcon, a merlin. Beautiful and shaking, the female accepted the fish. Gently, Hawk lifted her wing and examined it. “Aye, lass, ye’ll fly again.” Holding the fish with her talons, the merlin fluffed her wing back against her body while she tore the flesh from the fish. She was the last of the five raptors to heal, and she was a beauty.

  Hawk smiled and headed to the door, leaving the feathered beasts to eat.

  Outside he looked to the blue crisp sky. It would be a perfect day, if it wasn’t for the thief. He shook his head and strode over to a clearing in the glen. Arlen fluffed his feathers and squawked, waiting unwearied to take flight. Once Hawk gave the command the raptor spread its wings. With two pumps of his powerful wings he flew toward the clouds.