by Victoria Zak
Marcus examined the creature further as he saw its arms. The skin was covered in scales and its hands were talons curled into fists. The damn thing stunk like a dung heap, or more precisely, walking death. Carefully Marcus circled the beast and... the damn thing had a spiked tail like a dragon.
“What the hell are ye?” Marcus said.
“I’m a wyvern.” The creature spat and coughed.
A two-headed wyvern? Marcus thought. A winged creature with a long neck and a dragon head but much smaller than a dragon. The glistening from its scales caught his attention as he noticed the deformity of its arms. They were long, longer than a normal human’s, yet as he looked closer he caught a glimpse of wings that were tucked against its body. So, this is how it made it up the mountain, it flew, he thought.
Babbling as if struck with insanity, the creature tried to plead its case. “Aye, I fought hard, lord, so hard.” It rocked back and forth on its knees. “I fought to rule over Caerlaverock in the name of King Drest.”
A slight moan escaped the mouth of its other half. “Nay, ye grew greedy. Ye wanted to rule for yerself.” The voice gurgled and spat blood.
“Shut up, ye fool,” the visitor hushed its wounded half.
Marcus bellowed with laughter. “Oh, this is good.” He paused to catch his breath through the laughter. “A two-headed wyvern with a split personality.”
Marcus had no time for the blubbering fool. He had his sights on the holy ground.
“Take it away!” he ordered the two men. “I have no use for a fool, nor the time.” Turning his back on the two-headed beast, Marcus walked back to where the Dragonkine female sat, shaking and huddled in a tight ball.
Digging its feet firmly into the ground, the creature fought to be heard. “My lord, I know who yer enemies be. Dragonkine, aye?”
Marcus stopped abruptly and fell grim.
“My lord, I can help ye fight the Kine.”
Marcus spun around and in three big strides was in the wyvern’s face. “How do ye know about Dragonkine?” Cold breath puffed from Marcus’s lips as he seethed.
The creature trembled at the frigid stare that froze it to its grotesque bones. “One of them broke me neck, lord. I want me revenge just like ye want yers for what the Black Douglas did to ye.”
“Ye didnae answer me question. Guards, off with its head... heads,” Marcus ordered.
“Wait... wait.” The wyvern struggled. “I know magic that can kill their dragons. Trust in me, my lord, Ye will have victory and revenge if ye allow me to live. Heal me and ye shall see what I’m capable of,” it begged and pleaded.
Marcus didn’t quite know what to do. Surely, he didn’t trust this beast, nor like it. The creepers were his army and when the time was right he would unleash them into death dragons and destroy anyone who got in his way. Therefore he couldn’t risk taking on a wounded fool creature to spoil his plan. Yet, a part of him, some dark and twisted part, wanted the Kine to suffer for expelling his dragon and banishing him from Scotland. Perhaps it would be useful after all.
“Who are ye?”
“Me name is Tavish Max...” he corrected himself, “Tavish Black, me lord. I come to serve ye.” He snarled and bowed his head.
Epilogue
The entourage of menacing evil sat on horseback, peering down on the village of Helmfirth, considering the best plan of attack. An easy task, nay, but one they’d follow through with.
The laird there was well known and rumored to practice barbaric battle tactics. Brutal-natured, savage people were the company he kept. These rogue warriors fought beside the chief, defending their lands and homes against anyone, friend or foe, who dared to test their strength upon them. The laird ran a tight ship, even slaying his own warriors when one became out of line. Mercy was something he never showed.
As Marcus and his men-at-arms, if that was what you could call them, sat on horseback, the creature next to Marcus spoke up. “Lord, they won’t even know what hit them.” He gleamed a wee bit brighter than Marcus could stomach.
The village seemed to be busy about its day; a woman hung wet clothes on a drying line just outside her home while a younger lass washed tunics and trews. A group of men unloaded a cart full of freshly slaughtered meat into the butcher’s shop. It looked to be a good payday for the man. Too bad they wouldn’t live to spend it. Marcus grinned at that thought.
Children of all ages ran about the town playing and chasing one another, avoiding their daily chores. A group of wee lassies held hands and danced around in a circle singing, “Hush ye, Hush ye, before the Black Douglas gets ye.” Mayhap he would save these girls, for they would make perfect slaves. Marcus pondered that idea.
These simple folk had no idea what was about to happen to their safe little world.
“Aye, Tavish,” Marcus concurred.
The Dragonkine female sat behind Marcus in disgust of what she was hearing, yet she wouldn’t dare voice her opinion.
Although Marcus was completely healed and his army was ready for battle, he still needed to get his timing right. He wasn’t a fool. In fact, only Marcus fully understood how difficult the siege would be. The laird kept a tight defense on the stronghold, with a few hefty armed men. The outer fortress enclosed their land brick by secured brick. And if he heeded the rumored words, traps were laid inside and out of the keep’s walls.
A lookout tower stood tall and showed brightly against the blue sky. But he wasn’t fooled by the innocent gleam the tower radiated. Nay, not when he saw the reaction of the town folk scurrying to move out of the way when a group of men on horseback approached the village square. The people bowed their heads as the men rode through.
The men were kilted and heavily armed with broadswords and battle axes. Their hair was long and messy, their knees were dirty, and dominance shone heavy in their eyes. Their warhorses were just as intimidating, as they pawed at the earth waiting for the rest of the clansmen to catch up with them.
With folks on either side of them, a hooded form on horseback rode straight up the middle of this spectacle, parting the sea of people even more, its massive size alone dominating the surroundings. No one muttered a word, nor moved.
Marcus’s jaw ticked. The rumors are true, he thought.
The deep dappled-gray horse stopped in front of the group, antsy for battle. A goshawk as big as a buzzard was perched on the cloaked figure’s broad shoulder and complemented his size. Even though the hawk was unhooded, it rested without distress as its fierce red eyes searched the crowd.
The menace removed its hood and revealed its identity. The town folk instantly bowed. With the extra height of his horse, the man looked as if he could reach the heavens, as he had to be over seven feet tall. His appearance alone confirmed the rumors to be truth: rich brown, dominating eyes, red hair worn short with matching facial hair that intensified his strong masculine jawline, a chest broad with brawn, and legs that looked as if they were carved from tree trunks hugged around the horse’s girth.
Aye, an impressive duo, Marcus mused.
The man peered into the crowd and not a one of them would look him in the eye. Not only did he look menacing, he dominated without even saying a word. Even from the high vantage point where Marcus sat, he could feel the wickedness of his authority.
Too bad such a fine specimen of a warrior would have to die, Marcus mused. It seemed wasteful.
“My lord.” A creeper interrupted Marcus from the performance he had just witnessed.
“Do we attack now?”
Well, wasn’t that the interesting question of the day? Marcus had not heeded the rumors until he witnessed it for himself. Perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew. Aye, this would take some time and well thought out strategic planning before he committed to his attack.
His destiny lay only a village away from the holy land and awaking his king. There was no time, nor excuses. He had to bring forth King Drest, but making a mistake when his prize was close at hand would only set him back and for that he mus
t wait.
“Nay. We make camp,” Marcus said and turned his horse away from the cliff. No one was going to stop him from making it to the holy land. He needed time to think, because right now he was in shock from the mere presence of what he had just seen; the Red Hawk of Helmfirth.
About the Author
Growing up in the sister city to Stirling, Scotland, Sottish flare was abundant throughout Dunedin. From her High School band to the annual Highland Games that took place right across the street from her childhood home, the bagpipes beckoned her toward her calling. It seemed only natural for Victoria Zak to want to write in the Scottish historical romance genre. Add to the fact, she was also a paranormal romance junkie, there was no doubt that her influences would be the driving force behind her stories.
Although, she never sought out a writing career, her desire for the written word grew the more she read. Her love for Scotland, curiosity of history, and passion for romance has inspired her to write the first two books of her Guardians of Scotland Series, Highland Burn and Highland Storm. The third book in the series, Highland Fate will be released in 2015.
Now, Victoria Zak lives in the sunshine state with her husband, two beautiful children, and three furry friends. Living in paradise, being a stay at home mom, and to be able to share her stories has been a blessing.
Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through the links below:
Website www.victoriazakromance.com
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Books by Victoria Zak
Scottish Historical Paranormal Romance
Guardians of Scotland Series:
Highland Burn
Highland Storm
Highland Fate (2015)