Page 64 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

The flame started spluttering a few steps before the Labert family crest. He stopped to arduously tear another scrap from his cloak and wind it around the dying flame, feeding it gradually until it started blazing again.

The upraised fist of the Labert Clan became more prominent in the growing light. Bruce spotted the dark smear of his blood. Cold sweat poured off of him, and he looked away. Setting his sights to the top of the stairs, he continued his climb.

Slowly, but surely, as he got closer to the top, another dreadful thought bloomed in his head. What if he reached the top of this hellish staircase and found the door locked? Laird Labert had sent him off four days ago and would not be expecting him back so soon. What if he had locked the door and Bruce’s passage was barred?

The thought of climbing back down the hill was so excruciating that his spirit broke and he had to sit down for a minute. He missed Elspeth desperately. She had been a great support on his journey. Every time he had given up, she had built him back up again and made him see his task through. His life was impossible without her. How would he kick the English and Leo out of his castle without her by his side?

Ye want her back? Then stop feeling sorry for yerself, get up and climb! Elspeth needs ye more than ye need her right now so make the effort she would have made for ye and climb!

Every ‘climb!’ gave him the incentive to take another step, and then another. Keeping Elspeth’s face in front of his eyes made him stronger and he groaned and climbed higher. His legs were on fire, but he still climbed.

And if the door is locked we will pound our fists until someone hears us, or we’ll climb down and then back up the hill until we reach the castle gates. Elspeth never gave up on ye. Donae ye dare give up on her!

The makeshift torch spluttered, but Bruce spied the door about ten steps above. Relief leaped in his heart, but before it could flood good sense out, Bruce sped up. He was on the fifth step below the door when his torch guttered out.

Panting in the dark, Bruce dropped the branch. It clattered down the passage, the sound like cymbals and drums, and came to a jarring stop somewhere below him. His taut nerves rattled from the sudden noise, and he had to take a few minutes to steady himself before he lifted his arms and started feeling the ground with his feet before climbing.

One step.

A soft breeze, like the warm breath of an enemy, grazed the back of his neck.

Two step.

His hackles rose. He desperately wanted to whip around, but he schooled himself to look straight ahead.

Three step.

The absolute dark weighed on his eyes until he could stars. He blinked, losing more focus. It pressed on his orbs like a physical pain.

Four step.

His head spun; his feet dawdled. His heart was sinking fast. His breathing was shallow and fast. Any minute now he would reach the top and there would be nothing there. The door would disappear and the lights would blaze and the Devil would welcome him with open arms to his kingdom.

Five step.

His fingers grazed the solid oak door.

Bruce swallowed audibly, the sound echoing in the dark, dank space, sounding more ominous than it was. Feeling for the handle, Bruce grasped it in a tight grip. This was the moment of truth. If it was locked, then his tortuous journey was only one third way done. If it wasn’t…

Bruce turned the handle. It creaked, raising the hair on his arms.

And clicked.

The sound was a balm to his frazzled senses. The door slid open as smoothly as if it had been well oiled. Bruce jumped out of the dirt passage on to a solid stone floor. He turned to see the door shut, and the tapestry fall back in place.

Sighing with relief he caressed the tapestry and sent a prayer up for the long life of Laird Labert and his clan.