Highlander's Winter Tale Read Free

lashed out at him, condemning him with her last words. “When death claims you, I curse you to walk the earth only when the snow falls heavily upon the ground and your name is called forth. You will know no peace, no rest until the power of love seals your fate.” The woman then shouted out his name and it drifted along on the snowy wind as the execution was carried out with a nod from the mighty warrior.” Old Mary paused for a moment before resuming, her tone full of sadness. “The warrior’s wife met an early death that winter from a fever as did many of the villagers and the mighty warrior himself. But when they went to bury his body—it was gone. The following winter when the first heavy snow covered the ground and his name was evoked in remembrance, the mighty warrior appeared. He had not known where he had been and many thought that perhaps he had not died and the fever had him wander off and now he had finally returned and the clan celebrated. After a few days, fear replaced joy, many believing the devil had returned with him. Women he touched turned ill as did animals he laid his hand upon. Men were too frightened to go near him and food stored for the winter began to rot. When the snow was gone, so was the mighty warrior. The warrior who had carried out the execution told everyone about the curse the woman had placed upon the mighty warrior, and all began to wonder. Next winter, fearful that the curse could be true and he would once again bring the devil with him, it was agreed that the warrior’s name would not be evoked. However, when a second snow fell a drunken warrior uttered his name with a laugh. The door to the keep flew open and in walked the mighty warrior, snow swirling around him. This time the people did their best to avoid him, but he was laird and his word ruled. Several women in the clan died as did animals, but not the mighty warrior. When the snow was gone, so was he. The next year his name never passed anyone’s lips and the warrior was not seen. His clan never spoke his name again. All portraits of him were removed, tapestries of his battles were burned and his name struck from documents and stones—where it had been carved—destroyed, until no remembrance of him existed. The tale, however, spread across the land and through time. Some foolishly evoked names, tempting fate, and the warrior would appear having been woken from his never-ending slumber, bringing the devil and death with him.”
    The women shivered and some of the men shook their heads while other men laughed and began calling out names.
    “James come forth!”
    “William you are welcome here!”
    “Stop it,” one woman shouted. “You will bring the devil down upon us.”
    The men paid no heed to the warning and continued calling out names.
    “Ranald!”
    “John!”
    A woman slapped the one man, who shouted out a name, in the shoulder to get him to stop.
    “Charles!”
    “Stop!” another woman warned anxiously.
    “Alexander!”
    “Boyce!”
    The wind suddenly screeched like a horde of banshees around the keep and Dawn turned to Cree with fear in her eyes, pointing to the men and shaking her head.
    Cree nodded, agreeing that the nonsense must stop, but before he could stand and order the men to cease their nonsense, the Great Hall doors burst open and in with a rush of swirling wind and snow entered a hooded, black-cloaked figure.

Chapter Two
    Not a sound was uttered, not a soul stirred. Everyone sat frozen, staring at the cloaked figure as he drew closer to the tables.
    Cree stood and felt his wife’s grip on his hand tighten and with the sea of anxious faces staring at the stranger, he needed to end this foolishness before they all believed that a ghost walked among them.
    “Make yourself known, stranger!” Cree commanded with a shout.
    The cloaked figure halted and as he raised his head, he threw back the hood of his cloak.
    Women gasped, men shook their heads, and Dawn gripped her husband’s hand harder.