Dragon Knight's Axe

by Mary Morgan

  Although, he truly could not fault Desmond, for he would not have let his sister around the likes of a man such as him.

  Glancing back he saw Fiona, her head held high, smiling at some stray bird or animal. Her curls had escaped from the hood of her cloak and framed her eyes, droplets of rain dripping down her cheeks. Alastair was almost tempted to ask why Desmond was so miserable, since his sister showed no distress at all.

  She caught his eye and tilted her head as if in question.

  Seeing Desmond and the druid deep in conversation, Alastair halted his horse, and waited for her to approach.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, taking her tongue and lapping at the moisture on her lips.

  Alastair’s thoughts jumbled. His own tongue lost and forgotten. The sight of Fiona’s pink tongue blurred his senses. He ached to take a taste of her nectar.

  “Alastair, are you ill?” She frowned moving closer. “Are you in pain? Should I call for Kevan?”

  He continued to stare at her, mute to her questions.

  Rolling her eyes, she shook her head in frustration. “Why do I even bother speaking to you?” She prodded her horse away from him.

  Blinking several times, he finally answered, “Nae, ’tis nothing.”

  Fiona halted her horse.

  Seeing the confusion marring her features, he quickly added, “Are ye enjoying the rain?”

  “Rain?”

  Ye are an ass! Asking her about the rain? “Ye were smiling, and I have heard no complaints about the fine weather we are having. Whereas, I fear your brother will go mad with another day such as this.” He noticed a smile forming on her lips. Ye have redeemed yourself, Alastair.

  Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Yes, Desmond’s mood alters with that of the weather. I on the other hand love the rain, especially when traveling through beautiful scenery. The land comes alive when the water touches it, creating an intoxicating scent.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Can you not smell it?”

  He only nodded, fascinated by her description. In all of his life, he had never heard another speak of the land as he did.

  She looked past him, adding, “The mists cling to the hills like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  Looking in the direction to where she pointed, he watched as the mists silently descended over the land.

  “It makes me want to reach out and touch it,” she uttered softly.

  Alastair turned back toward her, seeing her face transformed in wonder. Moving his horse closer, he gave no thought or care when he captured her chin in his hand. She trembled under his touch as he leisurely drew his thumb over her bottom lip. “So soft,” he rasped.

  He saw the look of desire flare suddenly in her eyes. “An toir thu dhomh pòg?” whispered Alastair.

  “Do ye have a death wish, MacKay?” growled Desmond.

  Damn the bloody bastard. And damn him for not hearing Desmond’s approach. Regaining his composure, he flicked his hand away as if it contained some vile thing within. “I was removing a gnat from your sister’s face.”

  Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Bug? Eeww…” Swatting at her mouth, she glared at Alastair. “You could have warned me first.”

  “I did not want ye to panic and frighten your horse.”

  “As if…” She smirked.

  “It would be wise if ye stay near me, Fiona,” interjected Desmond.

  She shook her head and lowered her eyes. Alastair thought it was more to do with the blush staining her cheeks than agreeing with her brother.

  As Desmond nudged his horse forward, he gave one last passing glare at Alastair in warning.

  Fiona followed, but abruptly turned her horse around and did something which altered everything. Halting in front of him, she gave him the most dazzling smile he had ever seen. “Yes, I would have given you a kiss.”

  Hearing Desmond call her name, Fiona tucked her hood more securely over her head and moved away.

  “So the little bird understood my words,” he uttered quietly, stunned she would have agreed to a kiss. It would be best to remember that Fiona O’Quinlan was not any ordinary woman. She neither feared nor ran from him. On the contrary, she gave him back what he dished out.

  Alastair found that particularly appealing.

  ****

  “What do ye want, druid?” Alastair heard him approach before he came into view. Kevan had barely spoken on their journey, spending time in the early mornings and evenings alone.

  Leaning against a tree, Alastair continued to work on his chess piece and would do so as long as there was light left. It helped to soothe the beast and keep his hands busy, though he would have preferred to have them wrapped around a lovely soft body. However, the body he had in mind was now being watched over like a lost lamb by her brother.

  “I would like to thank ye for another fine meal of fish this evening,” stated Kevan.

  “There are those who would disagree with ye.”

  Kevan sighed. “Yes, well, Desmond does enjoy his meat.”

  Alastair rubbed his thumb over the back of the wooden piece. “And he can enjoy it when he returns home. I will not kill an animal for his pleasure. Fiona has no problem with the meals that I fix.”

  “Ah, yes. She is a kindred soul such as ye.”

  Looking up slowly from his work, Alastair arched a brow in question. “Excuse me?”

  “Just an observation.”

  “I am not an object for ye to observe.” Alastair proceeded to concentrate on his piece. “Is there something else ye wanted?”

  Before Kevan could respond Fiona’s scream sliced through the air.

  “Stay here,” hissed Alastair, grabbing his sword and creeping quietly through the trees. Taking cover behind a huge pine, he peered out. He had to give Desmond credit, he had killed four of their attackers, but there were two left. One grasped Fiona by the throat, and the other man had Desmond on his knees as he held a blade to the back of his neck. Both of the men were taunting him and Fiona, and he feared death would come swiftly.

  Alastair had to move fast.

  They were too far from the trees to use his magic to save both of them. What he needed was a distraction, if only for a moment. Sensing someone nearby, he glanced over and saw Merlin limping toward him with blood oozing from his leg and head.

  The dog bared his teeth watching the scene in front of them, but not a sound passed from his lips. Silently thanking the Gods, Alastair recognized what he needed to do. Using his gift of magic, Alastair took a deep cleansing breath in and out and gently reached out, touching Merlin’s head. Visualizing a mental picture of where he wanted the dog to go, he pushed the thought into the animal. Snapping his hand back, he watched as Merlin lumbered off.

  “I told ye not to move,” snarled the man who held Fiona. “Do ye want to watch as I kill him?”

  “Please, don’t,” she pleaded.

  “What will ye give me?” he asked, leering at her breasts.

  Her eyes went wide. “I don’t have anything.”

  “I think ye do,” he stated and taking his tongue, licked the side of her face.

  Immediately, Alastair’s beast roared. Taking his fist, he shoved it into the ground and a great burst of energy shook the land around them.

  Merlin lunged out of the trees and went for the man near Desmond. Even in his weakened condition, the animal grabbed the man’s arm, clamping down. Desmond took advantage of the distraction and rolled to the side.

  “Why ye devil dog!” Raising his sword arm to deliver a fatal blow, he took two steps and fell to the ground, blood gushing forth from his mouth.

  Kevan emerged from the trees and removed the sickle embedded in the man’s back. Wiping the blood off on the man’s clothing, he walked slowly over to Desmond.

  Alastair stalked toward the last one.

  “Dinnae come any closer!” Fiona’s attacker yelled. Fear shown clearly in the man’s eyes.

  “Release her now!” roared Alastair.

  “I w
ill kill her if ye take one more step. And that goes for the others, including the beast.”

  Watching as the man placed the edge of the blade against the side of her throat, Alastair stilled his steps. If only the man would move a few more steps back, then he could use his magic.

  He was risking a life he vowed to keep safe.

  Slowly, Alastair placed his sword on the ground, his eyes never leaving the man. When he stood, he held his hands up in surrender. He heard a hiss come forth from Desmond, but he gave no care. “A trade, then? I will give ye my life for that of the lass.”

  “No,” Fiona mumbled in a hushed tone.

  The man fidgeted with the blade, pressing deeper into her skin. “Do ye think I am a fool? She is worth more than ye,” he hissed.

  Alastair’s jaw clenched, and he did the unthinkable by taking another step forward.

  “Stop!” Blood now seeped forth from Fiona’s skin.

  “I will not repeat my offer. Unless ye make the trade, I will be forced to kill ye.”

  Muttering a curse under his breath, the man took a few more steps back, dragging Fiona with him.

  Exactly where Alastair wanted the man.

  Speaking the ancient words of a language none would understand, he threw his hands outward. The ground rumbled and with a great roar, roots from two trees broke free from the soil and grabbed the man.

  He shrieked in terror, releasing his grip on Fiona as he tried slashing his way out.

  Fiona slumped down. Instantly, Alastair’s arms swept her off her feet. He drew her close to him and strode over to Desmond and Kevan.

  “Who are ye?” screamed the man.

  Alastair stopped and turned partially around. “One ye should have bargained with.”

  A strangled cry was the last response from the man before they heard his neck snap.

  Turning Fiona around so she could not witness the man’s death, he heard her gasp. He stopped and looked down at her. “Your eyes…they are so pale,” she whispered.

  “Aye, from the magic,” he said softly, seeing no fear in her. He wanted to crush her to him, relief coursing through him that she was safe. Then his gaze caught sight of her neck. Blood trickled down her skin—skin that should not have been touched by any.

  “Beautiful,” she uttered softly.

  “Fiona, are ye all right?” asked Desmond as he approached them.

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  Reluctantly, Alastair lowered her gently to the ground and stood back. “What happened?”

  “They came barging through the trees. When they noticed Fiona, they grabbed her and forced her into the arms of their leader.” Desmond rubbed a hand over his face. “It all happened so fast. I tried to kill them all, but then the leader took a blade to Fiona.”

  “Men without purpose,” grumbled Alastair. “Intent on raping women and the land.”

  “Aye,” spat out Desmond and then winced.

  Alastair glanced over his shoulder at the destruction. Six men dead. But it wasn’t their deaths that bothered him. When he had called upon the magic of the land, the two trees he used would soon die. It was a costly price to pay.

  “Your arm needs tending immediately. You have a large gash, and it’s bleeding.” Fiona gave Desmond a brief hug before turning her attention to his arm.

  “I agree,” interjected Kevan. “We must seek a healer in the next village.”

  Fiona’s head snapped up. “What? Don’t you know what to do?”

  “Let me guess, ye are only a bard,” drawled Alastair.

  “Ye are correct,” stated Kevan. “My training never consisted of learning skills of a healer.”

  Alastair just shook his head in disgust. “Yet, ye are lethal with a blade.” He would never underestimate the druid again.

  “Well, we should splint the arm until we do find one,” said Fiona. “I think you need to have it treated or at least keep it still. And Merlin needs care. Is it far to the next village, Alastair?”

  “In these parts? Aye. Tend to your brother’s arm. We need to make haste out of here. No telling if others are about.”

  “And their horses?” asked Fiona.

  “I will set them free.”

  “Yes, that would be wise,” she muttered. Slowly, she walked away with Desmond. Kevan found two sturdy branches with which to bind his arm and followed behind them.

  When they were out of sight, Alastair knelt and gave a silent prayer of thanks and forgiveness to the land for saving Fiona. Standing, he heard someone approach.

  “Alastair?” His name a mere whisper on the wind.

  “Aye, Fiona?”

  What she did next stunned him. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him. Her head barely came to the middle of his chest, yet, he was the one that felt… small.

  “Thank you, again. This is the second time you have saved my life, and I will be forever grateful.” When she released him, he gazed into eyes that bore adoration for him. She gave him a slight smile before she turned and walked away.

  He did not deserve her praise. It was his duty to see no harm came to her. As it was her brothers’.

  Nevertheless, for one brief moment, Alastair let her words touch a part of him he thought long dead.

  And it frightened him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “When two souls collide, they will either become one, or shatter and die.”

  They had traveled long into the night, although Fiona had demanded several times they be allowed to stop. She was worried about her brother, but even he had agreed with Alastair, ignoring the pain and continuing onward. When Desmond made a joke about something, she actually heard Alastair bark out laughter.

  It was as if they had become best friends overnight.

  Finally, they were allowed to seek shelter for the night, but Desmond already had a fever. She requested water and shredded parts of her gown to use as a compress. He drifted in and out of consciousness during the dark hours, and when the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, he was delirious.

  “Where is Kevan?” she asked, moving away from her brother. “He should have returned ages ago with more water.”

  Alastair rubbed the back of his neck, and she understood he was just as frustrated. “I agree.”

  Hearing footsteps approaching, Alastair immediately drew forth his sword, pushing Fiona behind him.

  Seeing Kevan, they both gave a sigh of relief. But Kevan had brought two other men with him.

  “Do not be frightened. They are druids and are here to help us,” said Kevan. “They have a place not far from here where they can tend to Desmond. I found them down by the stream. This is Alan and Caddell. They have a healer among them.”

  Fiona stepped forward. “Good, because I think the cut is causing the fever. How far is it to your place?”

  “Not more than a few hours. But we are without horses,” answered Alan.

  “One can ride with Desmond to hold him and the other can take Fiona’s horse,” replied Alastair.

  The men all nodded, and Kevan led them to where Desmond rested.

  “Umm…excuse me, but what am I supposed to ride?” Fiona hated to ask, since she feared the answer.

  Alastair wouldn’t meet her eyes when he responded, “With me.”

  Oh my, sitting with you on your horse. In your arms? The heat crept into her face, and she wanted to smack it right off. What was she thinking? Her brother was gravely ill and here she was thinking—no anticipating being in this man’s arms.

  She turned away. “We’d better get started.” Before she stumbled a few steps away, he grabbed her wrist. The heat from his fingers seared along her skin. He released her as if he had been burned, too.

  “My horse is in this direction.”

  “Sure…fine. Let’s get going.” She moved past him, not even making eye contact.

  Stepping over to Alastair’s horse, she waited for him to help her up. Keeping her back to him, she fought the urge to jump when his hands wrapped around her waist. A s
econd later, she was astride the horse. Instantly, he was behind her and reaching for the reins. With one strong hand, he pulled her back against a wall of rock solid muscle. His arm brushed against her breasts, and her nipples tightened from the contact. Sensations she was unfamiliar with prickled along her skin.

  He leaned near her ear, his breath a warm caress. “Relax, Fiona.”

  She could almost hear the smile in his voice, but feared to turn around. How could she relax being so close to him? He did things to her no one else had ever done.

  “Do ye fear me?”

  “Fear you?” Fiona wiped a curl from her face, feeling foolish. “Goodness, no.”

  “Humph.”

  As they ambled along, she looked down at his hand watching as he maneuvered the horse. Thoughts of what he could do to her with his large and powerful hand invaded her mind. Goosebumps pebbled her body, and she gave an involuntary shudder.

  “Are ye cold, lass?”

  “No,” she stammered. I’m hotter than hell sitting next to you.

  “Humph.”

  In order to steer the conversation away from her, she asked, “What do you call your horse?”

  Feeling his laughter rumbling against her back, she sighed. “Well, I thought…since you call your dog Merlin. I thought the horse was yours, but then again, I would not know these things…umm…You have an unusual name for your dog—not that it’s strange or weird. Oh well…”

  “Do ye always speak your words in shambles?”

  “Excuse me?” Her tone came out curt.

  Again, Alastair leaned close to ear. “When ye are flustered, ye ramble.”

  She straightened her back. “I do not! And you don’t have to get so close to my face. I can hear you just fine.”

  “Aye, ye do. And I like making ye flustered.”

  “Do not! Now you’re teasing me.”

  “And ye are not teasing me?”

  “Teasing you?” she squeaked.