by Phoebe Conn
“Egan!” Albyn cried.
Oriana rushed to Egan’s side before Albyn had taken a step. “Take my hand,” she ordered forcefully, “and I’ll guide you down the stairs.”
Egan had to fight down a wave of nausea before extending his hand, but the instant Oriana’s fingertips caressed his palm, the excruciating pain in his side lessened to a dull throb. He was still slightly dizzy, but not so unsteady that he could not walk.
“I told you I could make it,” he swore to Albyn as his friend opened the door, but he clung to Oriana’s hand and wished she had been with him in the sea.
Oriana caught Albyn’s glance and held it. They had done what they could for Egan and now had to trust that Kieran would dare Egan to fly. While any wise commander took advantage of his enemy’s weakness, she trembled with the fear that she might be leading Egan into a trap she had been unable to foretell. As they left his chamber, she felt far more helpless than he.
Chapter Seventeen
Fearing Egan might stumble, Oriana took small, careful steps as she led him down the winding staircase. He was gripping her hand so tightly, she would surely be bruised. He was causing her such slight pain compared to his, however, that rather than complain, she murmured encouragement that echoed off the stone walls that surrounded them like ghostly prayers.
Albyn was right behind Egan, ready to grab his tunic should he falter, but while their progress was painfully slow, they reached the entry chamber without mishap.
“The worst is over,” Oriana announced with forced cheer. “You needn’t speak. Simply allow Kieran to describe what he’s chosen.”
Egan curled her hand against his chest to keep her close to his side. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes while he caught his breath.
“Is Kieran already waiting?” Egan asked. “I’ll not venture out unless he’s there.”
Albyn peered out the door, and the sound of the restive crowd swelled around them. “Aye, he’s strutting up and down like a gamecock.”
Egan could easily imagine his half brother shouting to whomever would listen that he had already won the challenge. He opened his eyes, and hoped once outside, the sun would not blind him. He gathered his resolve, but still seeking the comfort of Oriana’s touch, he kept a firm grasp on her hand.
“I doubt I can take more than ten paces. Then I’ll do my best to remain on my feet and force Kieran to come to me.” Egan paused before pushing away from the wall. “I’ll listen as you suggest, Oriana, but I’ll swear to you now that if Kieran provides an opening, I’ll kill him before he has another chance to kill me.”
Oriana had been so certain the wisest course was to protect Kieran’s life, but when Egan had suffered so greatly for that belief, she could not fault him for not keeping their bargain.
“Listen first,” she cautioned, “then do whatever you must.”
Egan longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her so thoroughly that she would never forget him, but he could not bring himself to make such an extravagant farewell gesture when she had given him every reason to live. Still, his prevalent emotion was one of stunned disbelief, for he could not understand how he had allowed himself to fall into such desperate straits.
“Open the door, Albyn, and then stay close,” he ordered.
Albyn yanked open the door and watched with utter amazement as Egan strode out into the bailey with a long, even step. He doubted his friend could project his usual confidence for long, but that he had done it at all made him want to cheer.
When Egan halted in front of the crowd, Oriana coiled herself around his left arm and braced his left leg with her right. She had never seen a man act with more courage, but too much of her plan depended upon Kieran’s choice for her to draw more than a hasty breath.
Albyn stood at Egan’s right and was equally anxious to end their horrific ordeal. To conserve Egan’s strength, he hurriedly called to Kieran. “What’s it to be, Kieran? It’s your choice today, and we’re all eager to hear it.”
Kieran approached with a lazy stroll. “Aye, I bet you are.” He favored the crowd with a knowing grin, and after a few random shouts, all fell silent. “Because challenges are so infrequent, I mean for ours to be memorable. You’ll agree with me on that score, won’t you, brother?”
Egan had no idea what Kieran was raving about, but he had already scanned the bailey for weapons and seen none. So much the better, he thought, because if Kieran came at him with his fists, then he would indeed leap on him and rip out his throat before Kieran had time to land a single punch.
Clearly growing impatient with his silence, Oriana gave him a quick nudge with her elbow. After she had been so insistent that he merely listen, he thought the gesture misplaced, but after that impertinent prompt, he offered Kieran an obliging nod.
Kieran took another step closer. He had not expected Egan to even leave his bed, and he was enjoying the discomfort it had surely caused him. “Good, we agree upon one thing at least.” He rested his hands on his hips and again smiled broadly at the crowd.
“I’ve chosen something none of us has ever seen, except in the magnificent tapestries lining the great hall. I intend to build a wing and fly. Have you the courage to match my daring, or is this the end of the challenge?”
Dumbfounded by Kieran’s outlandish choice, Egan glanced down at Oriana, and she responded with a nearly imperceptible nod. His knees threatened to buckle then, but she quickly increased her pressure along his side and saved him a humiliating fall. When he could barely stand, flight was beyond imagining, but at least he would live to see another day.
“Aye, I’ll fly,” he replied, and his words were nearly drowned out by the response of the jubilant crowd.
Again, Albyn stepped up to spare his friend further pain. “Go have your breakfast,” he suggested to Egan. “Kieran and I will work out the necessary details with Garrick and Neal.”
Recognizing that logical excuse for the blessing it was, Egan turned with Oriana still on his arm and walked back into the fortress. With others sure to follow, he led her toward the stairs, but then lacked the strength to climb. Fearing he would be unable to rise should he sit, he leaned against the arched doorway.
“Did you suspect he wanted to fly?” he asked Oriana.
Oriana raised a finger to her lips. “Later,” she promised. “Now, why don’t we eat in the great hall? You need every morsel of food you can get to regain your strength.”
Egan was too anxious to discover the secret she was so reluctant to reveal, and he was also too weak to risk mingling with others. “No, get me to my chamber.”
Oriana had been afraid there might be no return to his quarters, but she wished Albyn were there to help them. Before they could take the first step, however, Yowan came bursting through the door and rushed toward them.
He quickly looked around to make certain no one was lurking nearby, but with everyone so excited by the challenge, even the servants were outside. “I know how it’s done,” he offered in a hasty rush. “The wings were made with the same supple wood a man would use to construct a bow. We’ll need the sinews used for bowstrings too, to guide your wing. I know it all, Egan. It was told to me when I was a boy, and I’ve forgotten nothing. I swear I haven’t. Let me help you, and you’ll surely win.”
Egan had always been fond of his mother’s brother, but he had never realized how useful the man might one day be. “First help me to my chamber, and we’ll make our plans there.”
When Egan released her hand, Oriana stepped aside to allow Yowan to help him up the stairs. The passageway was narrow, and the men’s initial attempts to work together were clumsy, but at last Yowan found a way to take the burden of Egan’s weight without their becoming wedged between the walls. Still worried sick about her husband, Oriana followed a few steps behind.
When they reached Egan’s chamber, Oriana tarried outside in the corridor. She had won Egan the time to heal, but it brought little satisfaction when she blamed herself for his having been wounded i
n the first place. She turned as Albyn appeared.
“Why are you standing out here?” he inquired.
“I know nothing of wings, so Egan has no need of me now. I should just go back to Adelaine’s chamber,” she added absently.
“You saved his life,” Albyn insisted. “At the very least, he’ll want to thank you.”
“He might, but it won’t lighten my burden of guilt, and I don’t want to give him another opportunity to send me away.”
Unable to resist the temptation, Albyn leaned down to lightly buss her cheek. “I’d not send you away,” he promised.
Oriana had not slept well, but her thinking was not too clouded to rebuff Albyn’s subtle invitation. “Kieran may be reckless, but Egan’s flaw is his pride. I’ll not put either of your lives at risk in a foolish contest over me.
“Now go on and tell him what’s been decided. I’m sure he’s anxious to know how swiftly he must have a wing ready to fly.”
Albyn recognized the truth in her warning and reached for Egan’s door with one hand, but dropped his other arm around her shoulders. In one agile stride, he swept her along with him over the threshold. He had not expected to find Yowan present, but greeted him warmly.
Yowan pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Albyn is to be a judge, lad. How much do you want him to know?”
“Everything,” Egan assured him. He was seated in the chair, but leaning at an odd angle to favor his side. “He’ll not betray me.”
Oriana had slipped behind Albyn, but Egan could not understand why she would hide. “Where have you been?” he asked. “I thought you’d gone looking for that breakfast you insisted I eat, but here you come empty-handed.”
At the fortress, others had always brought food to her, and Oriana was not certain where to look, other than the great hall, where she would rather not go on her own. Still, she did not want him to go hungry.
She raised her hem. “I’ll find what I can.”
“Wait,” Albyn ordered. “Oriana is no servant, and I’ll not have her treated as such.”
Egan cocked his head to better assess Albyn’s critical frown. He wanted to make allowances for his friend, but as he saw it, when Albyn had leapt to Oriana’s defense, he had overstepped his bounds. “I’m not accepting challenges until I finish with Kieran, but if you wish to complain of the way I treat my wife, we can settle it then.”
“Stop it,” Oriana cried, and she quickly crossed the scattered rushes to Egan’s side. “Aren’t you in enough trouble without insulting your best friend?”
“Oriana, you’re the one who’s been insulted,” Albyn exclaimed, “when Egan ought to be praising your name to the skies.”
“Perhaps,” Oriana agreed modestly, “but when I’m unable to produce a bowl of porridge, it doesn’t really seem to matter.”
Surprised at the direction the conversation had taken, Yowan was badly embarrassed, and moved toward the door. “I could use some breakfast myself, and I’ll send the first servant I meet to bring all you’d care to eat. Then I’ll take my sons out to the forest to search for what we need.”
“Take care you’re not followed,” Egan warned, “and tell no one what you’ve told me.”
“You needn’t worry,” Yowan assured him. “I’ll not allow Adelaine’s lad to come to any harm.” He quietly closed the door on his way out.
Albyn was still ready to take exception to Egan’s reproachful glance, but convinced Oriana was right about his friend’s pride, he kept to the subject at hand. “Kieran insisted upon the eve of Samhain for the flight. That gives us only six days, but if you rest while I work on the wing, we should be ready.”
“Yowan claims to know how to build one,” Egan replied. “But rather than discuss how I’m to keep his superbly constructed wing in the air, I want you to describe this plan of yours, Oriana. You didn’t appear to be surprised when Kieran mentioned the wings. Why not?”
Oriana sent Albyn a furtive glance, then sat down upon the bed and slid the ties from her pouch containing the Stones of Tomorrow from her wrist. She ran her fingertips over the delicate embroidery as she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Every man has a flaw that can be turned against him to great advantage. It was Albyn who knew precisely what would appeal to Kieran’s reckless soul, and he inspired an enticing rumor about reviving the wings.”
Egan straightened slightly, then adjusted his posture to ease the pain. He shot Albyn an incredulous glance, but when Albyn merely shrugged, he understood what they had done in an instant. “I’ll grant you it was clever to plant an idea Kieran would swiftly seize as his own, but what makes you believe either of us can leap from Mount Royal and survive?”
“Aye, flying will be difficult,” Oriana hastened to admit, “but at least we’ve kept you alive to make an attempt.”
“And I should be grateful for that great favor?” Egan scoffed. “What I need is more ale, not impossible dreams.”
“I’ll fetch your ale,” Albyn volunteered, “but if it’s hope you need, perhaps Oriana will find some in her magical stones.”
Caught in a lie she had no wish to perpetuate, Oriana wadded the soft leather pouch into a lumpy ball. She was known for the accuracy of her prophecies rather than the manner in which she gave them, but it still hurt to admit the pretty stones lacked any magical properties.
Oriana appeared so confused and hurt, Egan regretted being so curt with her. “She’s told us both about the voices. If she’s no wish to display her talent with her Stones of Tomorrow, then let her be. Just fetch the ale, and I’ll be grateful.”
Albyn could not make himself leave while Oriana was so troubled. He spoke in a soft, encouraging tone. “You needn’t be afraid to tell us what the Stones reveal. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”
Both the kindly Druid and her husband wore expressions of such tender concern, it made her situation all the worse. They had earned the right to the truth, but telling it might make them suspect all she spoke were compelling fabrications. It was a risk she would rather not take, but in good conscience, she had no other option.
“I collected the Stones in our travels,” she explained haltingly. “I used to lay them out in a row and recount where they’d been found. My mother made the bag from a cobbler’s scraps and embroidered it one summer. It was the people who saw me carrying it who assumed it contained something precious.
“The way people stared at me when I told fortunes always made me horribly uncomfortable, but I found if I gave them one of my treasured Stones to hold, they would turn it over in their hands and study it rather than gawk at me. It was my mother who began calling them my Stones of Tomorrow, and she’s the one who helped me devise their fanciful names. It became the seeker’s choice then, but regardless of which Stone they selected, I relied upon the knowing, the voice that guides my prophecies, for the truth.”
She had to force herself to look up, but her companions’ expressions had merely filled with confusion rather than the disgust she had feared. When neither had an immediate comment, however, her heart sank under the weight of their silent disapproval. Still clutching the leather bag of her childhood keepsakes, she rose and left the chamber before either could condemn her aloud.
Albyn felt sick with disappointment, for at Egan’s first mention of the Stones of Tomorrow, he had hoped that Oriana might be persuaded to teach him how they were used. All he had found, however, was yet another empty illusion rather than the deep insight he craved.
“I’d hoped for more than a fancy bag of souvenirs,” Albyn muttered dejectedly.
“What does it matter if she rolled acorns in a bowl before telling fortunes? Her prophecies are painfully accurate. When we met, she warned me of a terrible danger and insisted that I should return home with all possible haste. I laughed at her show of concern and had to become her champion to entice her into coming home with me. But the closer we came to the fortress, the more she was convinced that someone I loved was dead. After we arrived, she insisted the danger to me had not passed. Now
, which of those prophecies would you care to disparage?”
“None,” Albyn exclaimed, for Oriana had been accurate with each one, but he still felt a fool for having hoped he had finally found the key that would unlock the mysteries of the future. He took a reluctant step toward the door. “There are herbs which might dull your pain better than ale. There was simply no time to seek them out yesterday.”
Egan shook his head emphatically. “Poison is too easily concealed in bitter herbal brews, and I’ll not risk it.”
Egan’s expression was far too serious for Albyn to discount his fears. “We’ve had no time to talk about Cadell, but do you suspect he might have been poisoned?”
Weary, Egan rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Aye, I do, but it wasn’t to hand me the crown.”
Intrigued, Albyn sank down on the bed. “Kieran, then,” he proposed. “But Ula would have known, and she adored Cadell, or at least that’s the way she behaved when I left to join the Druids. Had she and your father become estranged?”
It pained Egan to recall how deeply devoted a wife Ula had been. “No. Whenever I saw them together, she was wrapped around his arm or fondling him openly. She listened to his every word with a rapt attention I wish Oriana would display. But …”
“But what? You’ve described only Ula’s actions. How did your father treat her?”
“I barely remember my mother,” Egan finally confessed. “But when my parents were together, it was my father who always held her in a warm embrace. What I recall most vividly was how often they laughed together. My father was kind to Ula, respectful, but they shared little hearty laughter.”
A loud knock at the door announced the arrival of Egan’s breakfast. Albyn admitted a pair of shy young women, and he was pleased to find they had brought a large pitcher of ale. He kept silent as the servants placed the tray on Egan’s bed, giggled into their hands, and brushed by him on their way out.
“Eat and sleep,” Albyn suggested. “I have neglected my fellow Druids and must make up for it this very day. If there was a plot to give Kieran the crown, then someone will know of it. Such an evil secret will be difficult to keep.”