by Mary Morgan
It was done. Finished. He had succeeded in his mission to rescue her. Time had now resumed, and all his memories returned in a torrent of images. The water from his body dripped in slow methodical drops onto the ground as he tried to calm his breathing.
He snapped his gaze to Erina. “Does she live?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
Graham approached from the side and climbed through the charred debris. He gently lifted her head, and a moan escaped from her lips. “Aye.”
A guttural cry of relief tore through Rory, and he collapsed to the ground onto his knees. The energy he had held contained within his body released in a violent flow back into the cosmos. His breathing was labored as he attempted to calm his racing heart. Lifting his head, he watched as Graham and Brother Michael freed Erina. They carried her to a nearby bench and wrapped a plaid over her.
Footsteps drew near from behind him and he waited. Conn crouched down in front of Rory. “You are done here, Rory. No one was killed. The Brotherhood will wipe the memories from those who have witnessed this destruction.”
He narrowed his eyes at Conn. “What about Erina and her brother? Their friend?”
“It is entirely up to you. I will follow your orders.”
Stunned by Conn’s words, he wiped a shaky hand over his brow. If he removed her memories, Erina would have another chance with someone else. She wouldn’t be plagued with the horrors from the past. But then he might as well erase all knowledge from Ewan MacGregor and his daughter, Catherine, too. He laughed at the irony. He had no right to tamper further with any of their lives. “Nae. Let them keep their memories.”
“Done.”
Conn held out his hand, and Rory grasped it firmly to stand. “The crystal scepter? Would you have used it against me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Rory raked a hand through his damp hair. “Give me a few moments alone…with my friends.”
“I see you had help from an unexpected source.”
“Aye, the Dragon Knight.”
Conn shifted his stance. “Malcolm is on his own quest. But this brings to mind of another Dragon Knight I wish to discuss with you after you return. First, I must warn you, King Ansgar has demanded you appear in his inner chamber. Taran will accompany you back to the Fae realm. There will be no objection to this order.”
Rory nodded. “I will do so immediately after I am finished here.”
Conn started forward and then paused. “If you still want to become part of the elite group of warriors I am gathering, seek me out in the chambers of the Brotherhood.”
Rory swallowed. “First, there is something I must attend to after I speak with the king. Will this be acceptable?”
“Granted.”
After Conn stepped away, Rory retuned his gaze to the woman lying on the wooden bench. His beloved lived. But his heart now cleaved in two at the decision he was going to make. His steps moved slowly toward her and instantly, Graham unsheathed his sword and stood in front of Erina.
“What are ye? And who were the others? Are ye demons?” Graham demanded. The tip of his blade aimed directly at Rory’s heart.
Rory hesitated. “I bring ye no harm.” He glanced over his friend’s shoulder. “Nor to ye, Brother Michael.”
His friend’s voice grew tense. “That is not the question I asked ye.”
“I cannot give ye the answers ye seek, except to say we are a peaceful people who live among ye. We are not demons. ’Tis your belief, not ours. I was sent to right an injustice and my task has been completed. Furthermore, I love your sister with all my heart and soul.” Tapping a finger to his chest, he added, “She shall always remain here, even when I return to my own homeland.”
“You offered marriage, MacGregor. Now ye wish to withdraw your claim? Why?”
Rory blew out a frustrated breath. “At the time, I judged my former life over and sought to make a new one with your sister. In all honesty, my heart will always be with her. However, I broke the laws of my people by saving Erina. By rights, my life might be forfeit upon my return.”
Graham slowly lowered his sword. “And what am I supposed to tell Erina when she wakes?”
Deep sorrow filled Rory. “Tell her…” He cleared his throat and continued, “Tell her I will love her until the stars fade from the night sky.”
Unable to say anymore, Rory turned and strode toward Malcolm. As he approached the Dragon Knight, he held out his arm in a gesture of friendship. The man grasped his forearm firmly. “Whatever journey ye are on, if ye ever require my assistance, ye may call upon me. I am honored to call ye my friend. I knew your ancestor, Stephen MacKay, well.”
Malcolm smiled. “I am returning to Aonach. I reckon my time spent away has taught me important lessons regarding life and family.”
“Thank ye for your aid, as well,” stated Rory.
After releasing his grip, Rory turned to leave and then halted. Glancing over his shoulder, he uttered in a firm voice, “Graham, visit Ewan MacGregor. He holds the answers ye seek.”
Shock registered across the man’s face, but Graham nodded.
Rory swept his gaze one last time over Erina. Be well, mo ghrá. Look for me in the soft whisper of a morning breeze, and on the caress of a flower petal. My love for ye spans the cosmos. Dinnae forget.
When he finally lowered his gaze, Rory turned and walked away. With each retreating step, his heart splintered into a million shards of pain.
****
Rory watched the golden sphere suspended high within the darkened forest of the king’s inner chamber. Nine multicolored dragons hovered in various positions around the globe. Their light shimmered in a rainbow of colors off the trees, creating an alluring environment. Inhaling the scent of the rich earth and heady floral spices, he tried to settle his thoughts.
He’d never been allowed this deep within the royal palace. Instead of sensing fear, Rory found himself filled with questions. Apparently, Conn still considered him to be a part of the Brotherhood, and the death he thought awaited him, no longer applied.
He shifted his stance and clasped his hands behind his back. His body and mind were battered and weary from the battle. His heart was another situation entirely. The pain so intense, it took all of his willpower to seal the ache when he stepped into the king’s chamber. This was not the place to let the tide of his emotions overtake him.
Nevertheless, Rory was home. The whisper of the land reached out in healing to him. Would he accept the soothing curative to his heart? In truth, he deemed it would never come. Whatever plans Conn had for him, he hoped they were ones to remove him to the farthest reaches of time. Even being sent on a mission five hundred years away from Erina’s century was not far enough. He’d demand at least a thousand years back.
One of the dragons swirled in a pale blue haze around the sphere. It reminded him of another dragon. The last remaining one that dwelled in the waters of Loch Ness in Scotland. Recalling Conn’s words about another Dragon Knight he wished to discuss with him, Rory pondered a visit to the Great Dragon was in order.
The air warmed around him. One of the massive trees blurred, its giant limbs lifting, and King Ansgar stepped forth. It was as if seeing Conn, except the king had kept his hair cropped short. Both had a way of commanding a room when they entered. However, this was his king. Bending on one knee, Rory placed a fist over his heart in reverence and bowed his head. “Greetings, my king.”
“Rise, Rory.”
Stunned by the king’s familiar use of his name, Rory stood and faced King Ansgar. Once again, he clasped his hands behind his back out of respect.
The king surveyed him. “Walk with me.”
Unclasping his hands, Rory kept stride alongside King Ansgar. The chamber opened to reveal a moss-covered pathway descending even deeper within the realm. Water trickled from afar, and his body urged him to find the source. The air was potent and warm, and he fought the alluring calmness centering into his being.
“Do not fight the land, Rory.” The king
continued to walk along, keeping his direction on a bubbling brook in the center of a patch of wildflowers.
Rory halted a few feet away. He had no desire to be near any flowers. They reminded him of her.
King Ansgar snapped his fingers, and an obsidian bench appeared. After taking a seat at one end, he placed his hands on his thighs. “Are you prepared to stand there during our conversation?”
“Why am I here?”
The king narrowed his eyes at Rory, but remained silent.
The battle between Fenian Warrior and King of the Fae brushed over the land. The flowers faded as they slipped into the ground, and the air cooled.
“Is this more acceptable?” asked King Ansgar.
Rory exhaled softly and took a seat on the opposite end. “Forgive me. ’Tis…it is too soon.”
“Are you prepared to live a life without her? Can you now become a true Fenian Warrior?”
He leaned forward, letting his shoulders relax. He had no clear answers for the king. His emotions clouded everything inside him. “I am unable to give you an answer. I require some time apart from the Brotherhood.”
King Ansgar smiled knowingly. “I recall a certain request to the Fae council many centuries ago, and—”
“It was denied,” Rory interrupted tersely.
“If I had been present…” The king paused and stood. Walking to the brook, he kept his back to him.
Rory waited for him to continue. He sensed concern from his king, and then he grew curious. Standing, he asked, “I do not believe time away would have healed the wound left open by…Erina’s death.” By the Gods, how it ached to even speak her name out loud.
“You may fully never know.” King Ansgar turned back around.
“If I may ask, why would you interfere? For me? Surely death is my punishment.”
King Ansgar smile held sadness. “Because I made a pledge—a vow no other Fenian Warrior would succumb to the Realm of Sorrows. There have only been a few, but when the last warrior was put to death, I judged it wiser to devise a plan so others would not fall prey to follow the dark path. Part of you had already entered the realm of misery and sorrows when Erina died. When you were placed in seclusion, your dreams began. As a warrior, there is one power you have forgotten. At one time in our history, we stripped this power from our Fenian Warriors. Eventually, we considered it unwise.” The king moved forward. “It is the most powerful and one even I cannot control.”
Confused by the king’s words, Rory shrugged. “You are the King of the Fae. Your power is dominant. Is there another greater than yours?”
King Ansgar’s laughter echoed all around the serene foliage and trees. “Not even a king can weave a mightier power than love.”
His declaration slammed into Rory. Every cell in his being loved Erina. With each breath and exhalation, the emotion filled him. Yet, he was bound by laws and oaths—ancient and unyielding. Though he loved her, it was forbidden. Was he not trained to seal off his emotions around the humans? Yes, repeatedly.
“As a trained Fenian Warrior, I understand the laws regarding love with a human.”
“And yet you did fall in love!” King Ansgar snapped. “However, this is not why you are here. You have a decision to make, and I wanted to give you my assurance I will stand beside you in whatever path you venture onto. You have found that love can alter even the greatest of warriors.”
Aye. The greatest Fenian Warrior ever. Aidan Kerrigan. And look what love did to him. He was stripped of his powers and made mortal, never to return to his own world. I would gladly give up everything to be with Erina. But the time has lapsed.
“What if I want to leave the Brotherhood?” Rory kept his expression neutral.
“The choice is yours, Fenian Warrior. Choose wisely and remember my words from this conversation. You are free to depart.”
Rory’s troubled spirits quieted. Inclining his head to the king, he left in a sliver of light.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The mortals have a saying, ‘Time heals all wounds.’ Yet, for the Fae, wounds left by love surface with each waking moment. In order to heal, they must find love again.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Shielding his eyes from the intense glare of the new dawn, Rory pulled his satchel more firmly over his shoulder. The rose-colored light splashed across the valley below, a beacon of renewal to his fatigued soul. Lush, green grass carpeted the ground for as far as he could see. A river ran adjacent to numerous rowan trees, their giant limbs gently waving to him as if in greeting.
“Home,” he uttered softly.
Rory lost all sense of time on his journey back to a place that brought comfort to his soul. It might have been months, or even a year. Instead of magically appearing at his mother’s front gates, he had determined to spend the time in quiet reflection on a pilgrimage throughout his world. He longed to soothe and close the door on the past. Erina was gone. When the nights became too unbearable, he drew down the stardust and blew it across the realms, praying she heard his soft whisper of love.
After meeting with Conn, he told him that before returning to the Brotherhood, he required some time away. Though he was stunned, Conn gave his consent, and Rory left immediately.
His first thought was of his mother. Remembering a certain conversation with Erina about family, he deemed it was time to pay his respects. Secondly, Rory determined it was also long overdue to heal the puckered scar on his side. Even with the altered time, the disfigurement remained. When the healer told him to seek out the Master Apothecary, he found the woman refused to see him. She left a note stating to return when his heart was healed. Frustrated, Rory left the next morning.
Now, his travels became a blur. Decisions he had wanted to make along the way, more confusing. Did he truly want to return to the Brotherhood? Could he live amongst his people serving another purpose? Yet, all he knew was to be a Fenian Warrior. Could there be more to his life? Was he worried? On the contrary, paths and answers often revealed themselves. During his travels, Rory found patience and listened to the land.
As he traveled down the hill, his steps grew swifter, until he found himself running. The spirit of his youthful days teased at his memories. By the time he entered the valley floor, he was lightheaded from the exertion.
The familiar stone cottage with its thatched roof reached out to him in welcome. Sweet peas, roses, and honeysuckle spilled out like a blanket along the path and trailed up along a huge trellis in front of the home. He had forgotten how much his mother loved her flowers. She must have cultivated every seed Earth was known to have upon the land around her cottage. Butterflies flitted about, filling the air with more beauty. As he inhaled deeply, his smile came unbidden.
“Ye would have loved Erina,” whispered Rory as his fingers brushed over a rose petal.
Though his family was from the Royal House of Avieon, his parents enjoyed living outside the confines of the royal court and the Crystal Palace. When he and his brother, Liam were young, his mother sought out the gentle landscape and lush rolling hills that protected the bucolic valley, creating a home filled with flowers and herbs. She had brought all her knowledge to the area. Now, even the Fae healers consulted her for specific herbal and floral remedies.
Rory sensed her thoughts before she appeared at the door. Her greeting within his mind was one of a mother who had missed her son, and he chastised himself for staying apart for so many years.
Striding forward, he choked back the emotions as she approached him with her arms outstretched. Time had not dulled his mother’s beauty. Raven hair with only a touch of gray at the temples cascaded in a flowing mass down her back. Her lavender eyes continued to sparkle as those of a youth. He dropped his satchel and embraced her. Closing his eyes, Rory exhaled slowly, letting the past ease out of him.
“I am happy you journeyed on foot,” she uttered softly.
As he released her, Rory tipped her chin up with his finger. “How many times did ye order Liam and me to wande
r the hills when our minds were troubled?”
Her mother chuckled and turned away from him. “Too many times to count.” She gave him a passing glance over her shoulder as she made her way into the cottage. “And did it help you?”
“Always,” Rory affirmed and picked up his satchel.
As soon as he entered his home, he felt like a soothing balm had been applied to his soul. He had come home. A place that brought him immense joy. The exterior was small, but when you stepped inside a Fae’s home, their tastes usually transformed the interior into opulent colors and greenery. In addition, some homes were vast inside. His parents’ home was no different.
The main living area was akin to stepping into a painting depicting autumn foliage. Rich in amber, yellow, red, and green colors, the room glittered. Crystals of various sizes and shapes adorned the large table by the huge stained glass window. Overstuffed chairs beckoned him to sit for a spell near the giant hearth. Long ago memories whispered to him, especially those of his father. A man who was a warrior in his own right, but never sought out the Brotherhood. When Rory and Liam both announced their intention to become Fenian Warriors, his father retrieved two armbands from a stone box he brought with him from their homeland on Taralyn. They were ancient and powerful and had passed down from father to the oldest son. However, his father had heard the whispered words from a Seer, stating his sons would become great heroes. Therefore, one was given to Liam and the other to him. After Erina died, Rory removed the armband. Not only did he fail in his mission, but to his family, and he considered himself unworthy.
Rory clutched his upper right arm in remembrance. “Ye left us too soon father, but I will retrieve what ye have given to me. I should not have discarded the family heirloom.”
The aroma of honeyed sweet bread drifted past him, and his stomach protested, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Wandering into the massive kitchen, Rory dropped his satchel on a nearby bench. The room enveloped him with the tantalizing scents of hearty soup and bread. He stepped near his mom and peered over her shoulder. “Wild mushroom, leeks, and garlic?”