Buch lesen: «The Magic Ring of Brodgar»

Book One. The Inheritance

Prologue

June of 2016 proved to be unusually cold in Great Britain. The last suitcase was packed, and the path to Scotland lay ahead – Megan's ancestral home, yet a place she has never known. With a sense of longing, she looked out the window, where the rain had been falling incessantly for days on end. Her gaze then swept over her favorite room in the cozy Chelsea apartment, where she had spent most of her life with her mother, until she got married and moved to America, leaving her daughter behind. Megan was just nineteen when she found herself completely alone in London – a young woman in the heart of a vast metropolis. By the age of twenty-five, she had learned to live independently and handle all the challenges that life presented.

The day before, she received a call from Thurso, a town at the northernmost tip of Scotland, informing her that her grandfather, Malcolm, the patriarch of the McKenzie clan, had passed away. This clan had been deeply respected in the north since the medieval era.

Twenty – five years prior, following a bitter dispute with her father, Megan's pregnant mother, Arline, left her family home for good, moving to London and severing all ties with Malcolm. Over the years, reconciliation remained elusive. Even on his deathbed, the elder McKenzie could not forgive his daughter, leaving Arline with nothing in his will but regrets over the family discord. However, he harbored a deep affection for his granddaughter Megan, with whom he kept regular contact, and to whom he bequeathed his entire fortune, including an ancient castle and a thriving whiskey distillery.

Megan was unaware of both the ancestral home and the distillery that had now come into her possession. She only knew that her grandfather's passing marked a profound loss for her. The next step was to venture to Thurso and decide what to do with the inheritance.

1. The Arrival

The trip proved to be quite challenging. After flying to Inverness, Megan boarded a train for an additional four-hour journey. She was pleasantly surprised by the stunning landscapes for which Scotland is renowned. The view from the window showcased mountains, crystal-clear lakes, scenic beaches, and ancient castles, each with its own secrets. Admiring the scenery, she became lost in thoughts about the future and didn't notice how quickly time flew by. There were very few people at the small station, but Megan immediately noticed a man in his sixties rushing to meet her – a silver-haired gentleman with a kind expression.

“Miss McKenzie?” he inquired.

“Mr. Douglas?” Megan responded.

“Welcome to Scotland! I hope your journey wasn't too exhausting, despite the distance?”

He greeted her with a warm, paternal smile and shook Megan's hand. She appeared quite youthful to him. The girl was of modest height, with a slender waist and lean legs. Her large, expressive brown eyes and thick chestnut locks of hair, both typical traits of the McKenzie clan, were certainly distinguishing. Her delicate build and facial features gave Megan a porcelain, doll-like appearance. She was dressed in a formal dark pantsuit that elegantly complemented her slim figure. Simple shoes with modest heels completed the young woman's business-like, sophisticated look – just as Malcolm had described his granddaughter.

“All is well, thank you,” she took in the small railway station with a quick glance. Judging her surroundings, Megan quickly surmised that this was not a town but a village.

“I'm delighted by your arrival and our acquaintance. I've heard much about you from your grandfather,” the silver-haired man said as he carefully placed Megan's suitcases in the trunk of the car. “He was very proud of you. I've spent a large part of my life by his side, always as his loyal friend and the family's solicitor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Douglas. I’m glad to meet you too,” she said politely.

“Allow me to escort you to the castle, Miss McKenzie.”

“Please, just call me Megan.”

“As you wish, Megan.”

“Have we far to go?”

“About thirty minutes. Your home is near Melvich Bay, roughly 15 miles from Thurso. Tomorrow morning at 10, your relatives will be waiting for you in the meeting hall.”

“Is anyone currently living in my grandfather's house?”

“Yes, your cousin Warren and his wife are there, along with the estate manager. The couple had to leave for urgent matters right after the funeral, so they'll be returning late. It's unlikely you'll meet them today, but there should be an opportunity tomorrow morning.”

“I see. Thank you.”

* * *

“My goodness! It’s gorgeous! I could never have imagined seeing such a delightful place,” Megan exclaimed in awe as she stepped out of Mr. Douglas's car.

Before her, stood an extraordinarily beautiful castle. Its last renovation was completed in 1768. Over the centuries, the interior decor changed and improved with the latest technologies, while the exterior maintained its historical appearance, as depicted in pictures and postcards dedicated to medieval Scotland.

The castle was perched on a hill, offering breathtaking views of cliffs and mountains stretching into the North Sea. The magnificent green landscape extended for miles around. The estate was meticulously maintained, Megan noted immediately. Near the massive entrance door stood the manager, observing Megan intently.

“Good evening, Gregor!” she greeted, eyeing the tall, lean middle-aged man in a formal grey suit. He was exactly as her grandfather had described in his stories. Gregor's face seemed impassive and even stern, perhaps due to his thinness and lack of smile.

“Good evening, Miss. Welcome.”

Malcolm had greatly valued the estate manager for his impeccable manners, respectfulness, discretion, and cool, calculated intellect. He was one of those individuals who spoke little but listened much. When the distillery faced a downturn, it was Gregor who secured lucrative contracts with partners. Now, he was in charge of communication with the main whiskey buyers, working in tandem with Megan's cousin Warren, whom Malcolm had recently involved in the business affairs.

Gregor took two suitcases from Mr. Douglas and led the way inside.

As Megan entered the mansion through the grand doors, she paused, taking in the interior with interest, which blended modernity with history. The original stone walls were adorned with numerous hunting trophies.

“Deer hunting has long been considered a noble pursuit for true gentlemen, such as your grandfather,” Mr. Douglas explained, noticing Megan's surprised examination of the hall's unique decor.

“Are there bears around here?” Megan inquired warily, noticing a bear skin by the fireplace.

The manager smiled at her question, “No, that skin was a gift to your grandfather from an American hunter, an old friend of his.”

“That’s good…” replied Megan thoughtfully. She had always been afraid of wild animals.

“One need not fear the beasts,” Gregor unexpectedly interjected, his gaze inscrutable as he looked at her. “Often, it is people who pose the greater threat…”

Megan scrutinized his face with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. His last remark seemed odd, even menacing. Deciding she might be reading too much into his words, she chose to remain silent and turned her attention back to the hall's interior.

The chairs and sofa were upholstered in wool fabric made at the McKenzie mill, featuring the family's traditional blue-green tartan. Legend has it that this pattern and color scheme were adopted by the clan chief and his kin in the 13th century. Consequently, it had become a tradition for all family members to own several items in the blue-green tartan, for holidays, significant events, and everyday wear, suitable for any weather.

Megan's initial impressions of her ancestral castle were undeniably profound. A bittersweet melancholy washed over her as she realized that, despite the years which have passed by, she had never once made the effort to visit and see everything with her own eyes, to feel the deep connection to her lineage.

All these years, Arline had painted these places as a godforsaken backwater, untouched by civilization. Megan had imagined nothing more than crumbling walls of an ancient castle, frozen ruins on the verge of turning to dust, a vague memory of a glorious past. Now, she understood that her previous notions bore no resemblance to reality.

A grand staircase led upwards from the hall. She approached it, touching the cold stone balustrades. The center of it was carpeted with dense wool, also in the McKenzie tartan style, as was the furniture. Twenty steps led to the second floor, where the bedrooms were located.

“I wasn't sure which room you would prefer,” Gregor said, “so we've prepared two options for you – your grandfather's chamber and your mother's former bedroom.”

“I'll stay in my mother's room,” Megan replied, thinking that she likely wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully in her grandfather's chamber. Despite being 25, she still harbored a fear of something unexplainable associated with the dark. Megan occasionally chuckled at herself for this; after all, she was an adult, a capable woman who could quickly find a way out of any difficult situation while maintaining complete composure. Yet, she was still afraid of the dark, ghosts, and horror movies, just like a little girl!

The castle is probably filled with the ghosts of ancestors, she thought, and immediately tried to dispel this notion to avoid scaring herself.

On the second floor, two corridors branched off from the staircase, one to the right and one to the left, with bedrooms lining both.

“The second door on the left,” directed Gregor.

Arline's chamber, was both cozy and spacious. To the right from the entrance stood a king-sized bed made of mahogany, covered with a white down comforter and topped with a woolen blanket in the recognizable family colors.

Everything in one style, Megan thought, and she found it very appealing.

In front of the bed was a wide, large fireplace, above which hung a set of bagpipes – the national musical instrument of Scotland – mounted on the wall. The room, situated in a corner of the mansion, was one of the brightest in the castle thanks to two tall windows. Between them, there was a small round table and two chairs. The stone floor was covered with a, thick, plush carpet that was soft underfoot.

Warm rugs were often used in the interiors of ancient castles; they added a sense of comfort and retained heat. The climate of northern Scotland was harsh, and the close proximity to the North Sea brought cold winds and dampness. However, thanks to modern technology, the McKenzie castle was well-equipped to combat these elements.

“Thank you, Gregor, everything is perfect. I'll see you tomorrow at ten.”

“The meeting hall is to the right of the main entrance on the ground floor. Have a good evening, Miss.”

“Megan, if you have no further questions for me, I'll take my leave as well.”

“No questions, Mr. Douglas, thank you for meeting me. I'm very grateful.”

2. Independent Life

She didn't know how long she would need to stay in Scotland, so she packed enough for a stay of about two to three weeks. She could manage her time freely, as back in London, her romance with a young man had ended, and the restaurant her mother had opened sixteen years ago was in excellent hands with a great manager.

After Arline moved to America, the business was left to Megan. She was only eleven when she started taking an interest in her mother's work. She saw how Arline loved her business and was proud of it. Megan, too, wanted to experience the same joy as her mom and emulate her in every way. She spent all her time after school in the restaurant, and over time, began to undergo professional training for future business opportunities. By seventeen, she knew everything about the industry.

Megan was shocked when Arline announced that she was marrying Ted from California and moving to the USA.

“But the restaurant, Mom, what about our restaurant? Surely, you aren’t ready to sell something that we’ve put so much love and effort into over these years?” pleaded Megan desperately.

Arline cried and answered, “Baby, I know it’s a very difficult choice right now, but one day you’ll understand me. There’s nothing more powerful in life than love. When it comes – everything changes: your values and meaning of being. Megan, we’ll have a new business in the States and start afresh, bringing all our habits and way of life there. You’ll make many new friends, and we’ll be happy, all of us together: you, me, and Ted.”

“Mom, dear, your values may have changed, but mine haven’t. I love this city, this country, this life, and most importantly, this restaurant – not some other. I want to live and work here. Please, don’t make me give it up.”

At that young age, the girl didn't fully understand what love and a beloved person meant to her mother. They had always been together, working and relaxing in unison. Arline had never been married; she dedicated her entire life to her dearest daughter, and only child.

“Honey, what should we do then? How can I live like this? My soul is torn between two fires: you, my daughter, and him, the love of my life!” the desperate woman sat down in the chair and began to cry bitterly.

Megan’s heart was breaking for her mother. I’m so selfish, she chided herself.

“Go to America, get married, be happy. I will stay here and run the restaurant. I’m old and mature enough already,” she said, making the only decision she felt was right.

“But how will you manage alone? You still need to complete your studies. Have you got any idea how difficult this will be?” said Arline anxiously, worried about her precious daughter.

“I don't think it will be too hard because I love this job. Besides, I'm not alone. We have a good manager; he will help me.”

“I will be happy if you succeed. I believe in you; you are a great girl. You take after your grandfather in character, just as stubborn, goal-oriented, and independent. Once you've made up your mind, no one can persuade you otherwise. I'm proud of you, my dear,” Arline wiped her tears and hugged her brave daughter tightly.

“Thanks, Mom. I love you. Go in peace and be happy.”

“Promise me that if you need any advice, no matter what it is, no matter what time of day or night, you’ll call me, and I’ll always be ready to help you.”

“Of course!”

“I love you, baby!”

“And I love you, Mom!”

Five months after that conversation, Arline got married and moved to California. Over time, Megan realized that her ideas about independent living didn't quite match reality. Due to her perfectionism, she demanded the utmost attention to detail in everything she did. Sleepless nights were spent with textbooks, and days at work. Vacation remained a distant dream, and there was absolutely no time left for a personal life. But she bravely carried on, telling no one just how hard it really was for her.

When Malcolm McKenzie learned during one of his visits that his granddaughter had been living alone and managing the restaurant by herself for a year, he was beside himself with rage. He yelled, unable to contain his anger.

“Your mother was a frivolous girl twenty years ago, and she hasn’t matured one bit since. To imagine, abandoning her child, her only daughter, for a man. How dare she, the shameless woman?! Look at you, all skin and bones! Dark circles under your eyes! You’re still just a child, but everything has fallen on your frail shoulders! When I die, she won’t see a penny of the inheritance. Never will I permit the fortune of our clan to be squandered in another country, and for our family name to be scattered in the wind and forgotten as if it had never existed. You are my pride and joy, Megan. Proud that you stayed and didn’t trade Great Britain for another continent.”

This conversation had taken place five years prior, and Malcolm has since been visiting his granddaughter in London every year.

Eight months ago, on his last visit, he said, “My health is not what it used to be, Megan. In all likelihood, this is probably my last visit. Now it’s your turn to come and visit your old man.”

“I was planning to do so this year, but you see, mom had surgery, and I needed to be with her in California. Next summer I will come to visit you for a few weeks. The summer there, as I’ve heard is the only time of year when you don’t freeze to death and drown in the rain,” Megan laughed. “But I promise; this time I will definitely come; nothing will make me change my mind.”

“Drown in the rain? What nonsense! No doubt your good-for-nothing mother planted such ideas in your head. Of course, it’s cooler in the north than in the center of the country, but it’s not nearly as awful as you say! Your visit will give me great pleasure. I will arrange a celebration to mark this day.”

3. Bagpipes

And now she was here. He would have been so glad to see her. What cause for celebration her arrival might have been. But, as it turned out, she arrived the day after his funeral. He had passed in the evening, and the very next day his body was buried in the McKenzie family crypt, such were the burial customs in this place. Feelings of guilt had tormented her ever since she learned of his death.

“Grandpa, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please. I didn’t make it in time,” she whispered. Wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks, the girl thought that she couldn’t permit herself to break down right now, she needed a clear head to make important decisions. Tomorrow would be a difficult day and she had to be ready. She would have to meet her grandfather’s brother Alaric and his grandchildren, Warren and Duncan. As she recalled from Malcolm’s stories, by the twentieth century, their family had two castles in possession: Castle Mal and Castle Raven. Castle Mal was the ancestral home built by the McKenzies, and Castle Raven was inherited from the neighboring Drummond clan in 1898, when the last member disappeared without leaving any heirs. Grandfather Malcolm and Great-Uncle Alaric were the two heirs of David McKenzie, who bequeathed to Alaric, Castle Raven and the wool factory, while Malcolm inherited Castle Mal and the Scotch whisky distillery. At present, Alaric and Duncan are residing at Castle Raven, while Warren and his wife are temporarily staying at Castle Mal with Megan, who, from tomorrow, will become the official owner of the ancestral home, after the lawyer reads the will. The best solution that came to Megan’s mind was to offer the relatives to buy the distillery and the castle from her, if they so wished. She had no intention of selling the estate to strangers; she didn’t want Malcolm turning over in his grave, knowing that the clan’s home had been sold to someone outside the family circle.

Having changed her clothes and finished unpacking, Megan looked at the clock on the fireplace mantel. What a long day it had been; the memories of arriving at the airport that morning felt as if they were a week old. The clock showed 22:25. The room was getting cooler, and turning on the heater, she draped a shawl over her shoulders. She was about to go and remove her make-up when she heard an unusual sound. It took her a while to figure out where it was coming from. She listened carefully. This intriguing continuous melody was mesmerizing, capturing her attention and evoking a vague sense of unease.

“Bagpipes,” she said softly.

Her heart suddenly pounded loudly, while her soul clenched sweetly yet painfully. The girl couldn't understand why the sounds of a Scottish musical instrument stirred her so deeply. It was as if something magical, something supernatural, was beckoning her. She opened the window and saw that someone was playing the bagpipes not far from the castle. After listening for a short while, Megan left her room, drawn to stand outside and savor the melody. Leaving the house, she struggled to make out the shapes of objects until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was cool outside; the temperature had dropped and the wind from the sea sent chills down her spine.

Within a few minutes, she could clearly see the river at the base of the castle grounds, and hear the North Sea's rumble to her right. The sound of the bagpipes came from that direction. There was no one around, but she wasn't afraid. It was strange; she never made such reckless decisions, always cautious of the dark, but this time, she was magnetically drawn towards the source of the magical music. She walked as if enchanted. The area was private property and unlikely accessible to just anyone. With such thoughts, she calmed herself, rationalizing her impetuous act. She knew the entrance to the castle was nearby, and if fear overtook her, she could quickly return.

At that moment, the full moon came to her aid, appearing in the sky and illuminating the river and surrounding hills. On one of the hilltops, Megan noticed a man with a bagpipe. His tall, graceful figure resembled one of the true northern highlanders described in legends. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, wearing a Scottish kilt and high white woolen socks up to his knees. Megan couldn't make out the colors of the kilt, the moonlight wasn't bright enough to illuminate the details. The jacket, with a cape, was draped over his left shoulder. He continued playing the same heartbreaking melody, which was as beautiful as it was sad. Megan crept forwards, desperately wanting to take a closer look at him, to fulfill her irresistible desire. Her soul trembled as if her life depended on the encounter with this highlander. But the moon hid behind a cloud as suddenly as it had appeared, and the melody stopped.

It became very dark, and only the sound of the sea was audible. Megan felt an instant sense of unease, as if she had just awoken from a dream. Despite her attempts to discern the stranger's silhouette on the hill, she could not. At that moment, a crunch on the gravel came from behind. She froze in place, feeling as though someone was watching her. But there was no one around.

You're just tired, Megan soothed herself mentally, that's why you're seeing things.

But her heart was racing with fear. She had decided to return to the castle when she heard another sound, a rustling. The girl quickly turned and saw the shadow in a black cloak. It was following her. A soul-chilling fear paralyzed Megan. Somehow, she knew this was not the highlander with bagpipes, it was someone else.

The man in a cloak, with a hood thrown over his head, began to approach Megan, putting a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. Something ominous emanated from him; his intentions were clearly the most terrifying imaginable, she felt it with every cell in her body. The girl backed away, and in a state of fright, she didn't immediately realize that her feet were in the water; she didn't feel the cold of the river. Panic took over completely, and she dashed towards the entrance door. It was only about thirty meters away. The shadow moved along the shore, thereby blocking the path to the castle entrance.

“Gregor, help!” Megan screamed. She heard the man approaching, turned to see how close he was, and stumbling, fell backwards, hitting her head on a river rock. She didn’t even have time to feel the pain. All her thoughts were focused on one thing – survival. Frantically moving, she unsuccessfully tried to get up. Fear increasingly immobilized her movements. Meanwhile, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating everything once again, including the figure in the black cloak whose face was not visible. Suddenly, the flash of a blade of knife raised above her head. A rush of adrenalin gave the girl a little strength. She managed to crawl slightly away from the attacker, and just at that moment, a loud bird cry suddenly pierced the night. A huge, as Megan perceived, black raven flew directly at the face of the potential killer. The assailant swung the knife towards it but missed; the raven was more agile, hitting the face and head of the wrongdoer with its claws and wings. The attacker, trying to fend off the bird, dropped the knife and attempted to grab it by the wings, but in vain. Finally losing his balance, he fell on the riverbank, rolled onto his stomach, and covered his head with his hands, fearing the raven would peck out his eyes. After a minute, the assailant jumped to his feet and, bending over double to protect his face, ran away from the scene. Megan watched everything as if in a dream. Whether from the shock she had experienced or from the blow to her skull, her vision darkened, and she lost consciousness, never knowing how the struggle ended.