“Are ye sure he only had one hound? Some say he had two.”
“Now, Finn, the tale that was told by the great druid Cathbad, was he only had one.”
“Humph! Do ye think his chariot was big enough for more than one hound?”
“I dinnae ken.”
“Humph!”
Duncan pushed off from the wall and walked over to Finn, hearing a small sigh escape from Matlida.
“It is good to see ye, Duncan.”
He reached out as she gave him her hand, gently squeezing it.
“I hear ye have been having the same problem with the telling of Cuchulainn and his hound.”
“Ye both seem to think he had
two
hounds.” The worry shone bright in Matilda’s eyes.
Duncan bent and placed a kiss on her brow. “Why don’t ye get something to eat? I will tend to Finn. I hear he has a message for me.” Casting a glance over to the lad, he noticed fear when he saw it. The lad would now have to tell him what he witnessed.
“Thank ye, Duncan.”
Standing slowly, she stepped close to Duncan’s side speaking softly. “When he is finished, I have prepared a draught. He has not slept since returning.” Patting his arm, she turned to leave.
They both watched as Matilda left the room, gently closing the oak door behind her.
Duncan saw Finn swallow, understanding it was fear lodged in his throat like a lodestone. He did not want to push the lad, but time was their greatest enemy. Each hour that passed was another hour the bastard held Brigid and Nell captive.
“Are ye ready to tell me the message?” his voice low, but firm. Duncan sat forward in the chair, his arms resting on his knees. He gazed into the lad’s somber eyes.
Finn swallowed again and nodded affirmative.
“Good.”
“We did not see them coming. The taller man came at Dougal with his axe. He went down hard and never got back up.” Finn’s eyes went wide in the telling. “I could not move and when I did, I ran into the other man.” Finn twisted the edges of his wrap with his good hand.
“So there were only two?”
“Aye, just the two...the big man and the druid.”
“Druid? Are ye sure, Finn?”
A shadow of alarm passed over Finn’s face. “Och, aye, Sir Duncan. He told me so, and he carries a staff like Cathal’s.”
Duncan reached out and squeezed the lad’s leg in reassurance. “Go on, Finn.”
“The druid told me ye are to bring the Dragon Sword to the stones where your lady came through. Ye must come alone, too.”
“This is all he wants, Finn?”
“Aye.”
Finn’s shoulders started to sag, and Duncan realized the lad was fading quickly.
“Can ye tell me why they cut your finger off, Finn?”
He glanced down at his bandaged hand, and a small tear threaten to spill forth as his voice took on a more angry tone. “The druid said this was a message meant for ye, and they would harm more than a finger on the lass.” Finn’s gaze returned to Duncan’s, and the searing look he gave him was one of steel. “He then said that for your lady he would remove her heart and give it to ye as a gift.”
Duncan sat up slowly and fisted his hands on his knees, his face flashed in anger.
Finn leaned forward. His voice was quiet, yet held an undertone of cold contempt. “He may be a druid, but I think ye need to take his heart out.”
Duncan gave the lad a sardonic smile, his mind already getting ready for the battle ahead. He stood and placed his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Ye were very brave, lad. Ye have shown great courage and strength. Understand this, Finn—I am proud of ye.”
Finn’s jaw started to tremble, and he quickly cast his gaze away from Duncan. “Och, Sir Duncan...”
“Nae, Finn.” Duncan sat down on the bed and leaned close. “From this day forward, there will be no more
Sir
before my name. I give ye permission to call me Duncan. Do ye hear me,
son
?”
Finn’s head snapped up, a look of shock registering over his features and his mouth agape at Duncan’s words.
“Do ye mean Sir—I mean Du...Duncan that I’m under your protection
forever
?”
One corner of Duncan’s mouth twisted upwards. “Forever, son.”
“I thank ye, Duncan,” his voice but a whisper.
Then in a voice hardened with steel, Finn added, “Now go, and bring our women back from those bastards.”
“I will indeed, Finn. Now rest.”
It struck Duncan that the young lad would make a great warrior one day. One he would want by his side. Rising from his chair, he walked quickly toward the door.
“Duncan?”
“Yes, Finn?”
“I forgot to tell ye the druid’s name.”
Duncan paused at the door half turning. So, the bastard had a name. “What is it?”
“He told me his name is Lachlan.” Finn spat as if the very word was foul tasting.
A feeling of cold dread washed over Duncan as he braced his hand against the door. Never did he think to hear that name again.
“Thank ye, Finn.”
Matilda came through the corridor, and he nodded to her in passing.
He hastily climbed the stairs to his chambers, striding over to the table where his sword lay. His hand froze but for a brief moment over the sheath, before removing the sword. Walking over to the window, he opened the shutters.
Honor. Family. Love.
Three powerful words, which had been absent from his life these past twelve moons. He considered himself unworthy of them, until
she
walked into his life. She gave herself freely to him, understanding all that he had done. Brigid had given her love to his wretched soul, ripping apart the blackness that almost destroyed him. Did he feel worthy of her love? Nae, but perhaps one day.
Duncan glanced down at the sword in his hand, realizing he had one more task to complete.
Leaving his chambers, he ascended to the parapet and walked along the wall to the northern end. Here there would be no one to witness his actions. The wind howled at his back and the rain pelted his face with an icy sting.
Raising the sword slowly out in front of him, he called out to the ancients. “By the elements of sky, I claim ye as my own. By the blood of my fae family, I claim ye as my own. By the code of the Dragon Knights, I claim ye as my own!”
Holding the sword face down, he kissed the green dragon stone in the hilt. His blue eyes scanned the ominous dark sky as if in search of someone or something. Bending down on one knee, he placed the sword down on the ground in front of him.
“Forgive me, Guardian, I ask of ye. Let me regain my honor to redeem those ye have sent. If I must die, then so be it.”
Lightning tore across the sky in a dazzling brilliance of light and energy. Its intensity pulsed within his body and flooded him with renewed strength.
The stone in the hilt of his sword shimmered and with a steady hand, he grasped hold of it. Standing and angling it high over his head, the heat of stone seared up the length of his arm, quickly spreading throughout the rest of his body. The effect knocking him back against the wall. He was breathing in short bursts as he brought his sword arm down.
Duncan appeared...different.
Changed
.
Gently, he brought the hilt up to his lips and kissed the dragon stone again, content that the Guardian heard his words. Stepping away from the wall, Duncan made his way to his chambers to prepare for a battle that would save one life and take another.
Chapter 46
“When all hope is lost, put your ear to the ground, and listen. If in your heart you believe, then you will hear the heartbeat of the great dragon, and you may call upon her for help.”
Brigid heard the wailing in the distance, and she rubbed her tired sore eyes against her drawn up knees. Curled up against her was Nell, her eyes round with fright. Brigid could not tell if it was from the wailing, or the monsters that were holding them captive. Their hands and feet were bound, and Thadeus was sitting on a boulder several feet away, his back to them.
They had traveled most of the night, stopping only when Nell had started to whimper. In an attempt to silence her, Lachlan had threatened to remove her tongue. Brigid had tried unsuccessfully to reason with the druid, and he slapped her hard again.
They trudged on until the first glistening rays of dawn descended over the hill. It was a dark and gloomy day, one filled with rain, which made it more difficult to travel.
They were permitted to relieve themselves, but Thadeus stood guard a foot away. When it came time for Brigid, he held a knife to the girl’s throat and she had to hold back a vile retort.
The wailing continued, and Brigid heard Nell whisper something.
“What is it, Nell?” her voice low as she watched the back of Thadeus.
Nell looked up into Brigid’s eyes, so deep and piercing. “Banshee.”
“No, sweetheart. There’s no such th...” Brigid stopped in midsentence, realizing it seemed ridiculous to tell Nell that banshees did not exist. Especially, when she had traveled over eight hundred years into the past, encountered a dragon, and watched a man manipulate the wind, and the elements of the sky.
She recalled from her history that banshees only meant one thing. Their cry was a foretelling of a death, and it sent shivers down her spine. Yet, the only death she longed to see was the giant in front of them and the druid.
Brigid stretched out her legs, easing the cramps in her calves.
“Nell, lay down across my lap. You need to get some rest.”
Silently, she did as Brigid told her to do, keeping her gaze on the back of the giant.
She sensed the moment Nell had drifted off to sleep, by the deep sigh the girl let out. At least they tied Nell’s hands in front, instead of behind her back as they did with hers.
If only I had my dirk, she reflected. Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax her shoulders. She closed her eyes, but realized the early morning birdsong was quiet within the forest right before she drifted off.
Dreams of monsters filtered through her sleep. Brigid awoke with a pounding against her leg, and the glare of Lachlan looming over her. He had been kicking her for several moments and neither her, or Nell had awoken fast enough.
“Get up!” Spittle from his mouth flew into her face, and she swallowed the acid rising in her throat. Nell’s head snapped up, and Brigid thanked the gods she remained quiet.
The rain was now a steady downpour causing her to slip twice. She observed Nell trying to keep up, wincing every now and then. However, she gave the girl credit for being strong and brave. Ducking under a low hanging pine bough, they emerged into a circular group of oak trees, which she recognized. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.
Brigid knew precisely what was waiting beyond those trees. The stone circle she came through, and the place where Duncan’s sister died.
Was blood to be spilled again?
They kept their pace along the trees, never venturing within. The trees had lost most of their leaves and the stones stood starkly through the thick branches. A strange tingling sensation sent a tremor through her and at the same time, she saw a familiar face. Hope soared when she spotted Sorcha perched in one of trees.
Brigid sent out a mental prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over them. Could it be possible the dragon was watching, too? She smiled slowly and bumped gently into Nell.
Nell gazed up frowning at her.
Brigid nodded her head discreetly in the direction of Sorcha. She wanted to share a bit of hope with the girl.
Tears glistened in Nell’s eyes, and she bit her lower lip to keep them from spilling forth. A smile flitted briefly, fear still keeping Nell petrified of her captors.
They walked with more spirit than they had in the past twenty-four hours and even the rain and mud could not dispel their new spirit of faith.
Chapter 47
“Sometimes the broken heart of a warrior cannot be healed by love, but must be completely reborn.”
Duncan stood next to Brandubh, strapping his sword on the great warhorse. He had chosen to wear only his leather trews and plaid. When the moment presented itself, he would strip off his plaid and fight like the warrior he was trained to be, since the moment of his birth. He would fight with his fae blood and gain honor back for his family.
The wind and rain descended in freezing pellets, and he relished its fury. For the first time, Duncan had somehow mastered and tamed his own beast. After saying a prayer to the Guardian, he honed his own power as one of a shield and surrounded himself with it. He would not unleash it, unless it was necessary.
Cormac was giving last minute instructions to those of his men who would stay behind and guard the castle. There was a quiet strength in his friend, one that helped him many times in the past year.
He owed him his life and more.
Duncan understood Cormac considered it a weakness for anyone to take women hostage, especially ones so young. He confessed to Duncan that he had a soft spot for the wee lass. They all had formed a bond with her and with Brigid. Cormac had one hell of time keeping him and his men at bay until Duncan arrived. They wanted blood for this action.
Duncan reminded Cormac of Nell’s family and gave instructions for food to be taken out to the animals. Strangely, the one to volunteer was Moira. She was grief stricken when she heard Brigid and Nell had been taken. Cormac was insistent a guard accompany her, since they had no idea how the animals would respond.
There was only one last message to deliver before they left, and he saw the one person he had to speak with come slowly through the yard toward him.
“Greetings, Cathal.” Duncan watched as the druid made his way cautiously to his side.
Cathal leaned forward on his staff. “Fine weather for this Samhain.”
A wry smile formed on Duncan’s mouth, “Aye, indeed. I believe I may have found the source of evil in all of this.”
Cathal’s white bushy brows arched upwards in surprise, “
Truth
?”
“Lachlan.”
“He’s dead,” Cathal uttered in a strained whisper.
Duncan shook his head. “Nae, he gave his name to Finn. He travels with a giant who carries an axe, and he wants me to bring the Dragon Sword in exchange for the women.”