The Betrayal

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  The dragon fell back, its eyes fixed on the sun as it emitted a roar that echoed across the heavens. The water ran red with its blood as it slowly sank beneath the waves.

  Grant staggered to the shore and lay struggling for breath as the Enchanted Loch stirred and bubbled, before growing calm once more. When he sat up, there was no sign of the dragon. But the water remained bloodred, glistening like rubies.

  He tied a length of plaid around his arm to stem the flow of blood. With his sword at the ready, he caught his horse and led it into the loch. Whatever other dangers lay in wait for him, he would meet them with the same unflinching determination. Though he was exhausted from his battle with the monster, he was determined that nothing would keep him from his goal of reaching the Mystical Kingdom and the witches who dwelled therein.

  Hearing the distant roar, Nola Drummond looked up from her loom and cast a worried glance at the sky outside her cottage. The heavens were a sea of blue, without a cloud on the horizon.

  She hurried to the doorway and called out to her mother, who was cooking over an open fire. “The dragon cries.”

  “Aye.” Wilona wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow. “We must summon the lasses home.”

  Leaving Bessie to stir the kettle, the two women started across the meadow until they reached a hill, giving them a clear view of the area around them. Lifting their fingers to their lips, they gave the whistle that had always been their signal of impending danger. Minutes later Gwenellen stepped out of the forest, trailed by the little troll, Jeremy, and hurried toward them.

  Nola greeted her daughter with a hug. “Where is your sister?”

  Gwenellen shrugged. “Knowing Kylia’s love of the water, I’m sure she’s in the loch, or near it.”

  Wilona saw the fear that crossed Nola’s face. Drawing an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, and another around her granddaughter, she said soothingly, “Have no fear. Our Kylia’s not one to take foolish risks. Surely she would have heard the dragon’s cry and is even now on her way to the cottage. Come.” Linking hands, she led them across the meadow, with Jeremy running to keep up. All the while she prayed they would soon spy the slender figure of the one they sought awaiting them in the doorway of their home.

  Kylia stared in amazement at the bloodred water that washed ashore, staining the hem of her gown. This same thing had happened not a year ago, when a stranger slew the dragon that guarded their kingdom, and forced her older sister, Allegra, to accompany him to his home. What had begun as a fearsome situation had grown into a deep and abiding love between Allegra and her beloved, Merrick MacAndrew. Now Allegra lived with him and his young son, Hamish, in Berkshire Castle, far from the Mystical Kingdom. But they returned often, and Allegra’s family was assured that she had found great joy in that other world.

  It had been Kylia who had later found the dragon’s egg, in a nest hidden along the banks of the loch. She had watched the egg hatch, and the tiny dragon grow until it had become, like its forebears, a fierce protector of their land. She felt a heaviness around her heart, thinking about the nest she had recently found, bearing yet another egg. Had the dragon somehow sensed that its time on this earth was nearing an end?

  Kylia thought about her grandmother’s favorite expression. To all things there is a season. There was a rhythm to life, Wilona explained. A time to live. A time to die. A time to learn. A time to love.

  When would it be her turn? Kylia thought as the water began to churn and bubble.

  As if in reply, she saw a shimmering image beneath the waves. Gradually the image came into focus. The face of the man she’d seen dozens of times here in the loch since her childhood. The familiar dark hair, streaming past his shoulders. The gray eyes, deeply troubled. The strong, firm jaw and the cleft in the chin. But instead of fading, as it always had in the past, it came into sharper focus and began to rise up out of the loch.

  Now there was more than a face. So much more. There were broad, muscular shoulders and a powerful chest, barely covered by a length of dripping plaid. In his hand was a sword with a jeweled hilt that caught and reflected the sunlight. His other hand gripped the reins of a horse that followed slowly behind him.

  Both man and beast appeared exhausted and were breathing heavily.

  For a moment neither the man nor Kylia spoke a word, but merely stared at each other with matching looks of surprise.

  When he stepped closer, Kylia found her voice. “The fact that you were able to slay our guardian means that your strength is great, indeed, for Gram says it takes superior powers to overcome the dragon.”

  When he continued staring at her in silence, she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Forgive me. My first words to you should have been in greeting. Welcome to the Mystical Kingdom. My name is Kylia. My family is of the clan Drummond. And though your name is not known to me, your face is. For I’ve seen it here in the loch since I was but a child.”

  Grant was incredulous. The woman facing him was no witch. Here was a goddess. Skin as pale as milk. Hair as blue-black and shiny as the wings of a raven, twisted into one fat braid that fell to her waist. Such a tiny waist, tied with a ribbon into which she’d tucked a sprig of heather that matched the color of her eyes.

  Her words of greeting made no sense to him. “You’ve seen me?”

  “Aye.” She spread her hands to indicate the water that was now as crystal clear and dazzling as diamonds. “Here.” She looked up and her smile rivaled the sun. “I always knew one day you would come.”

  “You knew…?” He felt an odd buzzing in his head, and wondered why her voice was fading.

  Her smile vanished. “Forgive my babbling. You’re wounded.”

  “Am I?” He glanced idly at the blood that streamed from his throbbing arm, and started to reach for it to stem the flow of blood. Before he could move, he felt his legs fail him.

  Spots danced in front of his eyes. The buzzing increased in volume until it seemed a hive of hornets had taken over his brain.

  Without a word he dropped to the sand just as the sunlight disappeared from his view and he was engulfed in a tunnel of darkness.

  Chapter Two

  Grant lay very still, absorbing so many strange sounds and smells. Soft, muted voices. Laughter trilling as gently as music. The sweet perfume of heather, and the mouthwatering scent of meat and herbs roasting over a fire.

  He lay, eyes closed, waiting for the pain he knew would come. He shifted slightly on a pallet as soft as down. In the absence of pain he touched a hand to his arm. There wasn’t so much as a twinge. Nor could he feel blood or dressing or scar. His eyes snapped open and he looked around.

  “So, you’ve finally decided to come back to us.”

  With a rustle of skirts the goddess knelt beside him.

  He felt the jolt of recognition. “I remember you. You were on shore when I stepped from the loch. I don’t recall much after that.”

  Her laughter rang as clear as a bell. “That’s not surprising since you fell to the sand. I couldn’t rouse you, so I called for my family to help.”

  “Where am I?”

  “In our cottage.” She blushed. “In my bed. You’ve been asleep for three days.”

  “Three days?”

  “And three nights.” Full, perfect lips parted in a smile. “But Gram said we weren’t to worry, for your body craved the healing power of sleep.”

  “Gram?”

  “I live here in the Mystical Kingdom with my mother, my grandmother, and my younger sister, as well as some friends. Jeremy, a troll, and Bessie, who is like a dear old aunt. I have an older sister, as well, but she left home to be with her new husband.”

  He struggled to keep up. “And your name is…Kylia?”

  “You remember.”

  How could he forget? Never in his life had he seen such a perfect creature. “My arm…” He lifted it from the fur covering and was startled into silence. Had he only dreamed the attack by the dragon’s vicious claws?

  She gave another soft l
augh that did strange things to his heart. “It took a great deal of chanting and conjuring to heal it. My older sister, Allegra, is the finest healer among us. But now that she’s gone, we must make do with our meager gifts.”

  “You…” He swallowed. “You chanted away my wound?”

  “It was still fresh enough that we could manage it. We had to use herbs and a great deal of meditation for some of the older scars.”

  “Older scars?” Beneath the covers he ran his hand over his chest and discovered that the long-familiar knots and twists of flesh were gone. His skin was now as smooth as a newborn babe’s. Shocked, he started to sit up and the fur covering slipped to his waist, revealing the fact that he was naked. Though he quickly recovered and tucked the fur around himself for modesty, he could see the color spreading on Kylia’s cheeks as she scrambled to her feet.

  “I’ll just fetch your plaid. Mum repaired it and washed the blood from it.”

  As she disappeared from sight, Grant lay back, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Had he lost his senses? Or was this really happening to him?

  It didn’t seem possible that such a serious wound to his arm could heal within three days without leaving a mark. What was more, even older scars had disappeared, leaving his flesh without a blemish. He felt reborn. In truth, he couldn’t recall ever feeling this rested. He felt a wave of momentary discomfort when he thought about strange women examining his body for scars. Still, what mattered more was that every scar had been swept away with a few spells.

  He pressed an arm over his eyes and gave a long, deep sigh. Either he had gone completely mad, or the tales he’d heard for a lifetime were true and he was actually in the Mystical Kingdom, in the company of witches.

  Grant tossed the plaid over one shoulder, leaving his arms and torso bare in the manner of a Highlander. As he stepped from the cottage, he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and paused a moment to enjoy the view.

  A variety of women in gaily-colored gowns were involved in diverse activities. A woman with long, dark hair threaded with gray stood beside a fire, stirring something in a cauldron. But this was no witch’s brew. The wonderful scent wafting on the breeze had his mouth watering. To one side was a younger woman, working a loom. A hunched, older woman was seated at her feet, twisting the yarn, gathering it into a skein. And approaching from the loch was a little troll who had to be Jeremy, as well as a blue-eyed, golden-haired waif striding alongside Kylia, holding a string of fish.

  They called out, “Good day to you.”

  “Good day.” He paused. “I thank you all for your gift of healing. I am forever in your debt.”

  The older woman smiled. “We were pleased to be of service. I am Wilona, of the clan Drummond.” She turned to a woman seated at a loom. “This is my daughter, Nola, and our friend, Bessie. This is Jeremy, and my granddaughters Gwenellen and Kylia, whom you’ve already met.”

  He tried not to stare at the raven-haired beauty, whose damp gown clung to every line and curve of her slender body. She seemed completely unaware of how she looked as she picked up a sharp knife and began preparing the fish for the fire.

  “I am Grant, laird of the clan MacCallum.”

  “A laird?” Wilona gave him an assessing look. “We are honored by your visit. But a man doesn’t pit his courage against a dragon without good reason. What does the laird of the clan MacCallum desire from the Mystical Kingdom?”

  He thought of the bitter betrayal that had brought him to such a desperate journey. His tone hardened. “I come seeking the name of my enemy, who walks in the guise of friend.”

  “What makes you think we can help you?”

  “You have already proved that you can heal my body. I must heal my clan by learning a name.”

  “So that you can seek vengeance?”

  He heard the note of censure in the old woman’s voice. “So that I can keep my people safe from future betrayals.”

  Wilona studied him before turning back to the kettle. “There is time to speak of this later. For now, since you’ve regained your strength, Kylia and Gwenellen are eager to show you our kingdom.”

  Grant knew that he was being dismissed, yet he took no offense. These women needed time to allay their fears of him, just as he needed time to adjust to his situation. “I’m eager to see it, for I’ve heard of this place since I was a wee bairn.”

  He followed slowly behind the two young women who danced ahead, leading their guest across a meadow abloom with heather. Jeremy, no taller than a lad, trailed far behind.

  When they were gone, Wilona turned and saw her daughter watching their departure with a look of intense concentration. “You’re worried, my daughter.”

  “Not so much worried, but…concerned.”

  “You fear the stranger has brought danger to our door?”

  “Nay. At least not physical danger. But he is most pleasant to look upon. I’ve seen the way Kylia watches him.”

  “She’s unaccustomed to having a man to look at.”

  “Aye. Or having a man look at her. I see him watching her, as well.”

  “What is it you fear, daughter? That you’ll lose her to him?”

  Nola was quick to shake her head. “If it were to be a love match, I would be greatly pleased. But ever since Allegra left our kingdom, I’ve seen a look in Kylia’s eyes. She yearns for someone of her own. Someone to touch her heart in that same way Merrick has touched Allegra’s heart. ‘’

  “And you fear that Kylia is in love with the notion of love.”

  Nola nodded. “Perhaps we were wrong to shelter the lasses from the outside world. They’re so innocent.”

  “But not helpless. We’ve raised them to be strong and bright and independent. Now we must trust that we gave them all they need to survive. In our world or the other.”

  Nola sighed. “I suppose it has always been a mother’s lot in life to trust that she did all that was necessary to help her children survive and thrive.”

  Wilona drew an arm around her shoulders. “Come. Leave your loom for now, Nola. And your worries, as well. With Bessie’s help, let’s prepare a meal fit for a lord.”

  Grant followed the two young women across a meadow abloom with wildflowers, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Acre upon acre of foxglove taller than his head, in the most vivid shades of red and orange and deep purple. The air was perfumed with heather and soft pink roses and exotic flowers unfamiliar to him.

  High in the branches of a tree the glint of sunlight caught his eye and he looked up to see tiny creatures flitting from leaf to leaf. He stopped in midstride to stare.

  “Do you see them?” he called.

  Kylia and Gwenellen paused to look where he pointed.

  “Fairies,” Kylia said matter-of-factly. “The woods are filled with them. They love to play among the leaves.”

  “Fairies.” He stood perfectly still while the two sisters walked ahead. Then, seeing Jeremy watching him, he followed behind.

  When he caught up with them they were standing on a hillside, whistling through their fingers. Minutes later two winged horses came flying overhead and landed gently in the grass, tucking their wings close to their heaving sides.

  “Flying horses?” He knew his jaw had dropped, but he couldn’t contain his excitement as he hurried toward them. “Do they let you ride them?”

  “Aye.” Kylia ran a hand over the muzzle of a coal-black horse with silver-tipped wings. “This is Moonlight. She’s been mine since I was but a wee lass.” She pointed to the white steed Gwenellen was mounting. “That’s Starlight. And this third, Sunlight—” she watched as a lovely golden horse glided to a halt beside the little troll “—belongs to our sister Allegra. In her stead, Jeremy rides with us.”

  Grant shook his head in admiration as Jeremy and Gwenellen took to the air on their winged horses. “What I wouldn’t give for such a wondrous thing.”

  Kylia touched a hand to his sleeve. “I’m truly sorry that our steeds are too small to carry you on t
heir backs.”

  Grant absorbed a jolt at her touch and closed a hand over hers. “You’ve no need to apologize, Kylia. It’s enough that I can see such a mythical creature.” Because the heat was threatening to scorch him, he released her hand and moved away to pet the horse. But the tingling remained.

  As for Kylia, she stood perfectly still, wondering at the heat that rushed through her at the simple touch. Would she feel the same way if touched by any man? Or was it just this man who caused such feelings?

  To cover her confusion, she lifted her head and shielded her eyes from the sun. “Look how high Gwenellen and Jeremy have flown.”

  Grant followed her lead and looked to the heavens, stunned to see little more than two dark spots on the horizon. “How high can these creatures fly?”

  She laughed. “I know not. We’ve never taken them to their limits.”

  “You mean they might be able to reach the sun?”

  Kylia shrugged and, feeling another rush of heat, quickly looked away. “Who’s to say where they might fly if we asked them?”

  Just then a gust of wind blew across the meadow, sending the flowers in a wild dance, flattening her skirts against her legs. Looking up, she saw Gwenellen struggling to catch the reins that had been blown from her grasp.

  Kylia lifted her hands, palms up, and said in a haughty tone, “I command you, be still, lest my sister take a spill.”

  At once a strange calm settled over the land.

  While Grant watched in amazement, Gwenellen caught up the reins and the winged horse took a circular route to the ground, settling in the grass beside Jeremy, who was just dismounting.

  Gwenellen’s cheeks were the color of ripe apples. “That was quite a ride. Especially when that breeze caught us by surprise. Thank you, Kylia.”

  Her older sister gave her a quick hug. “You’re welcome. You’d have taken care of it yourself, but I could see that you had other things on your mind.”