WARRIORS

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  Liam had awakened only an hour before and was famished. As always, Jarvis had a plate ready for him at his usual table in the back. The tavern was near to full this afternoon and clamoring with conversation about a new babe that was born to Mora and Paidrig.

  “Liam?”

  His gaze sought who called for him. An auburn haired man approached him from the other end of the room. He wore a reddish-brown coat and a blue surcoat, both fashioned out of costly material. He was not a local, making Liam more cautious. What stranger would seek out his company here?

  “Liam?” the man questioned again.

  As the man drew nearer, recognition finally hit him. His lips curved into a smile as he came to his feet. “Diarmuid, is that you, my brother?” He drew his brother close in a manly hug of thumping backs and chuckles. He had not seen Diarmuid for over seven years. His little brother had grown thick in the chest and had grown an inch or two taller than he.

  “It is I, brother.” Diarmuid pulled away to search his face, his brows suddenly furrowing into a frown.

  Liam refused to acknowledge the look of concern shadowing his brother’s gaze. He knew he’d changed since his time with Glamis. His skin was paler, his eyes brighter as if he was fevered, but in truth he felt stronger. He was stronger. “What brings you here?”

  “Your last letter spoke of your return to Lochmere.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. He hadn’t forgotten, but he had prayed his family might have given up hope of his return. He hadn’t expected them to send a search party. “I found a place here.” His gaze shifted to Jarvis who stood behind the bar. “A tankard for my brother, please.”

  “Coming right up, Sir Liam,” Jarvis said.

  “You have settled here?” Diarmuid chuckled. “There is nothing here, but farmers. There is no castle befitting a man who is destined to one day be Lord of Lochmere.”

  “I like where I am. ’Tis peaceful.”

  Diarmuid’s brows furrowed. “You are one of the Knights Templar. You are a Cantwell, a warrior. ’Tis in your blood to take up arms.”

  Liam opened his mouth ready with a retort, but Jarvis arrived with two tankards of ale. Liam nodded his thanks and waited for the innkeeper to return to his duties. Liam leveled his gaze on his brother once more. “I did my service. I am tired of warring. I wish to be left in peace.” He would love to confide in his brother the true reason, but he couldn’t chance it. Most would choose to condemn Glamis for what she was and refuse to understand only her eating habits were different. She laughed and cried. She had hopes and dreams for the future. In this regard she was no different than a human.

  Diarmuid studied him over the rim of his tankard. “Father is ill. Mother does not believe he will survive another winter. You are the eldest. You must return.”

  Liam pursed his lips. He wanted to see his mother and father, but he feared if he left he would not be able to return for some time, if ever, and he could not bring Glamis with him. She would not be safe. “Let’s not speak of dire needs. Let’s celebrate our reunion instead.”

  With some encouragement and promise of more ale, his brother finally relented. Liam didn’t indulge as much as his brother had, but it was on purpose. He wanted his brother to be fast asleep when he made his visit to the forest. He couldn’t risk his brother following him there.

  Once the night wore on and his brother began to slur his words, he helped him upstairs to his room. He tossed him on the bed. The ropes groaned in protest as the dead weight plopped down hard.

  Diarmuid chuckled. “I believe I’m right bladdered, brother.”

  “Aye, that you are.” He removed his shoes and covered his brother with one of the fur coverings.

  His brother grabbed his arm before he could leave. “On my travels here, I was warned to turn away. They say this village is haunted by a fiend.”

  “Nonsense,” he claimed. “I’ve lived here months and have seen no fiend.”

  His brother’s gaze held his. “They say the fiend drinks blood and cannot come out in the day. They say she has found herself a knight to keep her warm.”

  “Well, good for her.” Liam chuckled, but fear clutched his gut. “I do hope it is the drink talking, dear brother. There is no such thing as a blood sucking fiend.”

  His brother licked his lips as if he wanted to say more, but finally his mouth curved into a slow smile. “You are right. I have had too much to drink and my tongue is fanciful this night.”

  Liam patted his brother’s shoulder. “Sleep it off. You will feel better at first light.” He was almost out the door when his brother stopped him, his voice sobering with his question.

  “You will break fast with me, so we may discuss father, will you not?”

  He turned to meet his brother’s gaze. “Of course. I’ll tell Jarvis to fix us a hearty meal.”

  Chapter Ten

  Liam should have known better, but his thoughts of joining Glamis for a few hours clouded his mind and in truth, he never believed his brother would prove a threat. He still thought of Diarmuid as the youth he left behind, but his brother was no child. He was a man now who feared for his older brother’s safety. Liam had not returned home as promised and when Diarmuid ventured out to find out why, he heard the stories about the fiend that lived in the forest.

  Diarmuid stood before him now with men flanking his side ready to do his bidding.

  Loucetios whinnied and complained, not liking his freedom compromised with his reins tied to a tree. Cormac stood back behind Diarmuid, shaking with fear.

  Liam could not tell if his squire worried being so close to where the fiend lived, or if he feared his wrath for aiding Diarmuid in his search.

  “I am sorry, Sir,” Cormac hurried to tell him. “But your brother tricked—”

  “Silence,” his brother warned. His squire lowered his head.

  “What is the name of this, Diarmuid?”

  “Do you go to her, the demon,” Diarmuid clarified, “with your own free will?”

  “I know of no demon.” He made a move toward Loucetios, but his brother withdrew his sword. The scraping of metal told him the others did likewise. His gaze leveled on Diarmuid. “Do you plan on slaying me?”

  “Only if you do not come peaceably. Your soul can still be saved.” Diarmuid glanced at the cloud-covered sky before narrowing his gaze on Liam again. “Step fully out of the shadows.”

  He knew what his brother’s ploy meant. He wanted to see if he would burn once the sun’s rays hit his flesh. The day proved overcast and dreary. Even Glamis would not burn—at first. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug of indifference and stepped forward as ordered.

  He stood there as his brother stared at him. Waiting.

  “Well?” Liam held out his hands to the side in question. “What now? Shall I dance for you next?”

  “Do not mock me.”

  “’Tis not my wish to do so,” Liam said, not quite hiding his anger. “I am trying to understand the meaning behind your ploy here. You have drawn a weapon against me. You have dragged my squire out here, and you hold my horse prisoner. And for what? So you can talk of demons as if you expect one to swoop in from hell’s fire and drag us back down.”

  Diarmuid’s stance faltered, but then his gaze shifted and Liam knew his brother’s eyes locked onto his neck, where the small pinpricks stood out against the paleness of his skin. His brother inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. “You protect her, Liam. Seize him,” he ordered his men.

  Liam withdrew his sword. He could not let them take him. They would torture the truth out of him. He would not give Glamis’ whereabouts freely, but even the strongest and the bravest had a breaking point.

  The first man came forward. He flipped his blond hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head and grinned at Liam. He swung his broadsword across his body as if he planned to fell a tree. Liam’s sword clanged against the blond man’s weapon in protest, blocking his advances. The other darker haired man moved with intent, but Liam whirle
d to greet him, his sword making contact with the man’s neck. The man’s sword slipped from his hand as he fell back, his life’s blood leaving his body in spurts of red. He returned to the blond man whose face had lost all color as he stared at his fallen friend. The blond man took a step back and Liam lowered his sword, believing the fight was over, but his brother surprised him for the second time this day.

  Diarmuid flew at him, his sword thrusting forward. “Better you die now than later at the demon’s hand.” Before Liam could react, his brother’s sword pierced his side.

  He met his brother’s gaze in disbelief. Indeed his brother looked horrified as he yanked his sword out of his flesh. Liam staggered back and fell on one knee. His hand gripped his side where the blood soaked his jerkin.

  Aaaaaah!

  The cry of agony pierced the air, like the call of a banshee ready to swoop down and claim the doomed.

  Liam glance toward the forest in fear, knowing his beloved was coming. “Glamis, no.” Liam choked, spitting up blood.

  The wind picked up, whipping his hair away from his face.

  His brother lifted his sword ready to fight whatever came at him. The blond man dropped his sword and ran, his squire, Cormac close behind.

  Liam gripped his side, trying to stop the flow of blood. “Go, Diarmuid. Go before it is too late.”

  His brother glanced at him. Sorrow filled his eyes and the lines of age fell away to reveal the youth who once loved him. “May God have mercy on your soul, Liam.” He raised his sword then and Liam realized his brother’s intent. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he could not defend himself. He fought battles without injury, but he would die this day at the hands of his brother.

  Chapter Eleven

  As the sword came down toward Liam’s neck, a blur of color whipped by him, lifting him, and taking him away. It felt like he was flying with the way the wind whipped against him.

  He closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of his beloved. “Glamis.”

  The whirl of flight ended, and Glamis lowered him to the ground. He opened his eyes and saw the treetops above him.

  “Liam?” Her voice trembled with fear.

  He reached for her and she grabbed hold of his hand. “You saved me.”

  Her lips curved, but the humor didn’t reach her gaze. “I only prolonged your death.” She hissed and her fangs lengthened. “The human will die for this.”

  He squeezed her hand, staying her moves. “No, let him go.”

  “Let him go? If the sun shone brighter, I could not have come to your rescue without burning alive. That man you wish to spare would have gladly relieved you of your head.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand again. “But you cannot slay him. Promise me you will spare his life.”

  “Why?” Confusion danced in the depths of her eyes.

  “The man you wish dead is my brother,” he told her.

  Her brows creased. “This is the child you taught to swim and to hold a sword? The snot nosed lad who followed you everywhere?”

  “Aye.” She remembered his tales of home and in happier times.

  “He is no boy,” she accused.

  “No, I am not.” Diarmuid broke through the foliage, like a man determined to do what he must to set the world right. He pointed his sword at her. “You will die this day for corrupting my brother. I saw the marks you left on his neck. I know what you are.”

  Liam cursed under his breath. “Glamis did not corrupt me.”

  “Glamis? The fiend has a name?” His voice rose like thunder, condemning him. Glamis proved evil in Diarmuid’s eyes and his brother believed no man should ever befriend such a creature.

  “I will not have you call my wife names.” They may not have taken their vows before a priest, but they pledged their love the old way. They were married, and he would raise his sword to anyone who said differently.

  For a moment, Diarmuid lost his hostile stance. “Your wife?”

  Liam nodded. “You have a problem with her then you have one with me as well.” He almost laughed at how ludicrous that sounded. Of course, his brother had a problem with him being with Glamis. Didn’t the hole in his side prove it well enough? His gaze touched Glamis with determination. “If you love me as you claim, you will not harm my brother. Before I die, I will have your word on this.”

  Glamis’ eyes glowed red, but then dimmed. “As you wish.”

  “Get away from him.” Diarmuid took a step toward them, but stopped when Glamis bared her fangs with a hiss. With preternatural speed born to her, she charged him. The sword flew from Diarmuid’s grasp as she grabbed him by the neck and dangled him off the ground as if he weighed no more than a poppet.

  “Do not kill him,” Liam rasped out. “You promised. He is my brother, my family. I love him.”

  Her gaze riveted to him in confusion and disbelief. “You love him? Your life’s blood flows from your body because of him. He calls me fiend, but it is he who is the evil doer.”

  Liam forced himself to sit up. He leaned against the tree for support, clutching his side as pain ripped through his body, reminding him of the hole in his side. Blood seeped between his fingers to pool beside him, painting the ground red. He only had a few minutes before he lost consciousness then his brother would not have a prayer. He would die this day, too. “He did not mean to cause injury. He is young and still needs to learn. You must show him you mean no harm to humans. It is the only way to end this.” He coughed up blood and wiped it away from his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “I beg of you, Glamis.”

  She screeched her frustration at being denied her kill. She threw Diarmuid away from her. His body slammed against the tree with a thud.

  Liam sighed in relief when a few moments later, Diarmuid rose to his knees, drawing in a ragged breath.

  Glamis knelt beside Liam, her hand on his. Tears fell down her cheeks like beads of glistening light. “I have not cried for centuries and I do not like how it makes me feel.” It was all there in her eyes, beautiful, pain-stricken eyes. She was born a Dearg-due. Her kind felt passion and pain ten times over what a human felt in that regard. Grief would be no different. He touched his fingertip to the corner of her eye, brushing away the tears. “Do not mourn me.”

  “You spoke the truth,” Diarmuid stood before them, but far enough away so not to seem a threat. “You truly love my brother.” He spoke to Glamis, witnessing the truth for himself.

  She didn’t answer him. There was no need.

  “Change me,” Liam gripped her arm.

  Her gaze riveted to his, stunned at his request. “You could…” She let her words trail away.

  “Die,” he finished for her with a chuckle. “Love, I am already dead.”

  She glanced to Diarmuid, waiting for him to give the approval.

  Diarmuid glanced at his brother then Glamis. His jaw tightened as he clenched his jaw, struggling with what he was taught, and what was right. Good and evil had been drummed into his head, but Liam remembered Diarmuid as a child when he questioned and did not follow blindly. His brother came here to slay a demon, but the demon didn’t look or act like the evil he expected. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Do it,” he said.

  She tilted her head to the side as her gaze leveled on Diarmuid. “If I change him and it works, he will be like me.”

  His nostrils flared as he drew in a ragged breath. “God gave us the power of choice and my brother has made his.” He turned to leave, to walk out of the forest and not know his brother’s fate, but at the last moment, he turned and spoke again. “I have witnessed evil and you, my lady, are not it.”

  She nodded her thanks of his acceptance. Then Diarmuid disappeared, the foliage and trees hiding his departure.

  Glamis’ gaze touched Liam. Her long fingers caressed his face as she leaned down to kiss his lips. “I love you,” she told him before she drove her fangs into his neck.

  Liam tried to hold on, but he felt so tired and cold. His heart stuttered, thudding slower against hi
s chest. Death hovered near, waiting to grab hold and take him away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Twilight proved the best part of the day, where the colors of the morning still lingered in the sky, but the sun’s rays could not cause harm. Glamis stood at the open door. Her mahogany hair billowed behind her as the breeze lifted the strands off her shoulder. Her fine threads molded to her figure like a lover’s caress. “I long for you, Liam. I long for your kiss,” she said to the wind and closed her eyes.

  “I long for those things from you as well, my love.”

  Her lips curved, making her features more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. “Liam, you have awakened.”

  He lived the life as a Dearg-due for years now, but years were nothing when the race lived centuries. He strode toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned against him. As a human, he used to think she felt cold to the touch, but not anymore.

  “Do you miss it?” She turned in his arms. “Do you miss the sun?”

  “Sometimes.” He would not lie to her. “Do not worry, I shall live.”

  She chuckled as she met his lips. Her fangs grazed him, drawing blood. He growled before taking her mouth hungrily. They fed off each other to sustain life, the way it was meant to be for a Dearg-due.

  He didn’t fear death now. He only feared leaving behind what life still had to offer. Being Immortal only proved true as long as an enemy did not know of your weaknesses.

  Glamis and he had spread stories about the legends of vampyres, whispering in playwrights and poets’ ears. They were the muses for the arts, a ploy to keep them safe from the humans’ ignorance of the species. Eventually the Dearg-due would be only a myth and nothing more.

  “I have added more written words to the book.” He handed her the vellum page he’d been working on for the last few days.

  She glanced down at what he’d written, his script strong and sure. Her laughter made him smile.

  “I do not believe I have penned a comedy.”

  “Oh, but you have. Garlic and holy water will keep the fiend at bay. A Dearg-due may be defeated by building a cairn of stones over its grave.” Her brows rose. “Who will ever believe such nonsense? We do not sleep in graves.”