Lùnastal - August 1

Happy Harvest Time! For Lachlann, my hero in Tremors, it's a time that changes everything. The book is about to go to galley. It's so exciting! In the meantime, I thought I'd share a little excerpt from Chapter One.

Scottish Highlands, 1351

Shrouded in mist, Loch Nis loomed dark and foreboding in the distance. Lachlann pulled the packhorse along swiftly, anxious to be home before nightfall. He needed to see his family, to hold his son. He checked his sporan. The wee leather ball and wooden horse figurine were there, safe. He could hardly wait to watch Iain’s little face light up when he gave him the toys.

Allasan should be pleased that he’d found everything on her list. He grinned. They had their differences, but if there was one thing about his wife, she knew what she wanted. She was the most stubborn Gael alive. Despite fever, nausea, and a sick three-year-old to care of, she’d almost pushed him out the door.

“You have to go,” she’d urged, her brown eyes unnaturally bright. “I want the dye and you’ll find it in Inhbir Nis. You promised! I didn’t work day and night all summer to be disappointed because of a paltry ailment. I have my family and yours all around me if I need anything. Go! You’ll only be in my way here!”

He had to admit, she’d been right. The Lùnastal festival in Inhbir Nis was much larger than their local fairs, with a wide variety of merchants. Not only had he found her purple dye and wax candles, but all sorts of vegetable seeds, even Norse favorites such as horseradish and mustard.

Thanks to a bountiful harvest and the cloth that Allasan wove so skillfully, he’d had plenty with which to barter. He’d even been able to choose gifts – Iain’s toys, silk ribbons for his wife and sisters-in-law, and iron gall ink for the bard.

He only wished that Allasan and Iain had been able to go with him as planned. He’d worried about them the whole week.

What was wrong with the horse? He tugged lightly on the rope. The beast stalled, its ears flat back.

He tugged harder, then smelled it, the foul stench of smoke.

“Come on,” he urged the animal. “Someone’s just burning something.”

But burning what? As he drew closer to the village, he saw black smoke billowing from the mountain. His gut clenched. Something was wrong. He moved faster.

I hope you enjoyed that little peek into the story. The book cover is going to change. I can hardly wait to see it. The title might be expanded to Tremors Through Time. I love it all, and I will keep you posted!

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