Dragon Knight's Axe

by Mary Morgan

  “Ye may have found your peace, brothers, but I will never claim mine.”

  When Alastair opened the doors, the women stared at him. Giving them each a curt nod, he strode out of the castle and quickly made his way to Gawain. He did not have to look behind him to know his brothers were watching him. Their power flowed around him, and he was not sure if it was there to protect him or damn him.

  Waiting for the portcullis to open, he gripped the reins tightly, his gut twisting at the agony of never seeing family, or Fiona again. Giving a nudge to his horse, he firmly closed the door on all emotions. He allowed his beast to slither out, and he welcomed the coldness that seeped inside.

  It was far better than the pain.

  ****

  Rain continued to thrash at him, and he snarled believing Duncan was behind the foul weather. “Do your worst, brother,” Alastair shouted, shoving his fist into the air.

  Lightning flashed above him in response to his anger.

  “I will shake the ground all the way to Urquhart if ye do not cease,” he bellowed.

  Gawain snorted, and Alastair trudged onward, east through the Great Glen. Dense oaks and pines hindered their progress. When his horse slipped, he brought him to a stop. “Not much further, my friend.” Patting him on the head, he looked down below. Soon his journey would be over, and he would be able to return to his life at sea.

  “Let us finish this, Gawain.” Steering his horse down the path, he made his way to the water. The canopy of trees gave way to the openness of the loch and steadily he moved on to his destination. As they rode further east, he quickly picked up the pace. There were only a few more hours of daylight, and he wanted this deed over with before night settled upon the land.

  Alastair let out a sigh of relief when his senses detected the dragon’s presence. Dismounting, he removed his axe, and then sent the horse trotting away. As he unraveled the cloth, he ran his thumb over the green dragon stone embedded in the handle. There was a time when it would bring comfort when he required answers. Yet, he could detect no power.

  He was no longer a Dragon Knight bound by ancient rules. The relic forever tainted by a tragic past, one that would forever haunt Alastair.

  It was time to sever the last remaining link.

  “Ye will not be a part of me. I release ye.” He flung it out with all of his strength watching as it crashed into the water, causing a ripple effect that rushed toward the shore. He took a step back, not wanting the waters of the loch to touch him. Emptiness filled him as he turned away.

  Alastair turned to retrace his steps. The mists descended thick and heavy with sorrow. He did not need to turn back around to know the Great Dragon had emerged, and he quickly put up his shields from any attempt to communicate. His body reeled with the emotions from the land and refusing to acknowledge her, he kept on walking.

  Nevertheless, the Great Dragon was far stronger and her words lashed out at him. “You dishonor the woman who was chosen to cleanse your relic.”

  When she spoke, bells chimed in the distance, and Alastair wanted to cup his hands over his ears. He did not need reminding of his failure to Fiona. Stopping, he kept his back to her, his anger and agony rising by the moment. “Then perhaps she should not have died.” His words were laced with sarcasm, rage, and grief.

  “And this is how you honor her memory? Destroying what was already destroyed? Will you find peace, Dragon Knight? Is this what you seek?”

  Something fierce snapped inside of him. Her words unleashed a tightly contained well of misery. Turning on her, he shouted, “Peace for a ruined Dragon Knight? Never! Do ye hear me? I did not summon ye! Therefore, go back to the deep where ye belong.”

  Waiting for her next words to strike at him, he took a step closer—daring her to utter them. However, what she did next, Alastair was unprepared for. The ground shook violently, and the axe flew out of the water, landing at his feet in broken pieces—the dragon stone gone.

  “I release you, Dragon Knight. Your relic is no more, nor the man you once were. We shall not meet again in this place nor time. The blood of your ancestors will be the only link you will have to your past.”

  The shock of her words echoed to his soul, and he stumbled. Why was he in agony? Was this not what he wished for? Craved each and every day? Or was it an attempt to flee from the misery of his sister’s death?

  Questions that he already had the answers to mocked him.

  He was a fool and a coward.

  “What have ye done?” His words were aimed at himself. Dropping to the ground, he brushed his hands over the splintered bits of wood. Only the blade remained—the final piece of an ancient line that he had abandoned…and destroyed.

  Alastair still felt her presence, hovering above the water, but he had not the courage to face her. By lashing out with his bitterness at her earlier, he deemed himself unworthy. “I loved her. Do ye ken how much?” Alastair pounded his chest. “It ripped me apart to watch her die. First Margaret and now Fiona. Why was she sent to me? ’Tis cruel and unfair.”

  Hearing her sigh, Alastair raised his head.

  “Does not the dawn greet the parting night? Always out of the darkness comes the light, even with love.” Her voice barely a whisper on the wind.

  “How can I have hope when death surrounds me?” he snapped, his voice raw with agony.

  She shifted slightly, and her radiance blinded him. “You have forgotten the words from the Guardian, Knight.”

  “I only recall the darkness and the curse.”

  “You know the words, but did not open your heart to their meaning.” She swayed slightly. “Across the seas your destiny awaits. A love will meet through time and space. To right a wrong within this place. Beneath the gate to test your fate.”

  “Fiona? The test?” He rubbed at his head in frustration. Words that he had long forgotten filled his being and he understood.

  “Do you still wish to be released, Dragon Knight? For once I depart, it will be so and cannot be undone. You will forever remain an outcast.”

  Standing on shaking limbs, he looked up and raised his arms. “What can I do?”

  “Mend the broken pieces. When you are whole, return to Urquhart and Fiona.”

  “She lives?”

  “Find the courage to face your fears, Dragon Knight. Do not forget that your destiny is linked to a greater purpose. If you abandon it again, I will not be so forgiving.”

  “I will not forget, Great One,” he said clutching his fist over his heart in reverence.

  Watching as she faded from his sight, he slumped to the ground, weak from the encounter. He had been running for so long, believing it was for the best.

  Foolish and cowardly.

  All he required was a simple light of clarity.

  Picking up the axe blade, he sighed. “And how am I going to mend this?”

  Nevertheless, he would do so and in the process, Alastair would learn to mend the two halves of the man inside. His thoughts turned to Fiona, and he said a silent prayer that one day she would deem him worthy. Until that day, he would do all he could to find the strength to heal.

  Closing his eyes, he sat back on his heels and raised his face to the sky. Water streamed down his face, and Alastair could not distinguish whether it was from the rain or his tears.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “When the maiden awoke, she could not remember if her dream was reality, or if her reality was a dream.”

  Something tickled Fiona’s face, warm, soft, and making soothing sounds. It moved against her cheek and she felt her mouth form a smile. Part of her wanted to sink back to the peace and contentment, but she kept hearing the man’s voice. She tried to recall if she knew him. However, fragments only floated by, and she couldn’t grasp one. Several times, he had yelled, and she wanted to yell back.

  Yet, no words came forth.

  Now, this soft presence continued to brush over her face, and she tried desperately to open her eyes. It kept tickling her nose, and when she cou
ldn’t take anymore, she shouted, though only in her mind. Instantly, the intruder begged an apology and moved down along her arm, snuggling against her hand.

  Letting out a big sigh, she moved her fingers over its fur.

  “Praise be the Goddess,” exclaimed Matilda. “Fiona, lass, can ye hear me?”

  Fiona didn’t recognize the voice, and how did they know her? Again, she tried opening her eyes. They only fluttered briefly and then closed. The effort far too difficult.

  “Fiona, squeeze my hand if ye can hear me.”

  The warm creature moved away and was replaced by a cooler, coarse hand. Trying to comply, she could only wiggle her fingers a tiny fraction.

  “Och, Sweet Danu, thank ye.”

  Fiona heard the woman’s footsteps leave, and she wanted to yank her back. Why was she leaving? Once again, she tried desperately to open her eyes.

  This time she succeeded.

  “Stop.” The word came out in a garbled whisper. But the effect was what she wanted, for the woman slowly turned around.

  As if understanding her meaning, the woman smiled. “Dinnae fear. I will not leave.” She turned back around and Fiona heard her tell someone outside to fetch the others. “Send for Nell. Now that the lass is awake, she can remove the animals.” Leaving the door open, she came back to her side.

  The woman took her hand again. “We feared the worse when ye did not wake. ’Tis a horrible bump ye took on the head.”

  “Bump?” she croaked out.

  “Whist, lass. No more words until we can get some broth into ye.”

  Fiona frowned not understanding anything the woman was saying. Where was she? What was this place? She spoke as if she had a serious injury.

  Not caring what the woman thought, she tried talking again. “Where…am…”

  “Ah, my pardon. My name is Matilda, and ye are at Urquhart Castle.”

  She got no further in her explanations when footsteps came bounding into the room. Two stunning-looking women rushed to the bed. They both smiled fully, and Fiona tried to return their smiles.

  The one with blazing auburn hair spoke first. “Hello, Fiona. I can’t tell you how happy we are to see you’re finally awake. My name is Brigid.”

  “And I am Aileen. Once again, it was good to be proven wrong. We thought you would never return.” Her hand was cool when she brushed her fingers over Fiona’s forehead, and she had the most gorgeous lavender eyes.

  Her mind tried to comprehend their names. Matilda, Brigid, Aileen…Flashes of memories raced through her mind like a broken jigsaw puzzle. They were as fleeting as the bits of information these women were telling her.

  “Can ye not see that ye are confusing her?” chastised Matilda. “Look at the frown marring her face.”

  Brigid placed her hands on her hips. “She’s frowning because she wants answers. Right, Fiona?”

  Fiona responded with a weak smile.

  “Humph! Bring me some broth,” ordered Matilda. “Maybe after she has eaten, ye can all sit and speak with her, though she requires rest, so I will not have ye stay long.”

  Fiona attempted to roll her eyes hoping Brigid would understand she had rested far too much already.

  Chuckling, Brigid squeezed Fiona’s hand. “Trust me. You will get your answers. But first, Matilda is correct. You need some food even if it’s only broth. I’ll return shortly.”

  “And I will stay here,” stated Aileen pushing another chair next to the bed.

  Brigid had only taken a few steps when a young girl came running into the room. “’Tis true?” the girl gasped. Moving over to the bed, she scooped up the now stretching cat.

  “We prayed so verra hard for ye to wake. Whiskers”—she cuddled the cat close—“would not leave your side.”

  “Nell?”

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “Gather the animals and help me prepare a tray for Fiona.”

  “Merlin cannae leave. He is her protector,” she pleaded.

  “Of course,” replied Brigid softly.

  Fiona’s mind scrambled and suddenly, Merlin emerged at her side. If Merlin was here and this was Urquhart….her heart lurched. “Alastair?”

  It was as if the mere mention of his name invoked silence within the room. Brigid quickly left, dragging Nell and the animals—two dogs, one cat and her kittens, a squirrel, and a pair of doves behind her. Aileen glanced at Matilda and then back at her again.

  “He’s not here at the moment,” answered Aileen.

  Fiona swallowed and nodded slightly. Reaching out slowly, her fingers found Merlin, and she tried to reach out with her mind, but pain gripped her. Wincing, she continued to brush her fingers over his head. Why was Alastair not here? Was he with his brothers? She remembered him smacking her horse and telling her to flee, but did something happen to him? Did he get injured, too?

  Her mind was a jumbled mess, and the more she tried sorting through the chaos, the more elusive her memories became.

  Relax, Fiona. Just relax.

  Aileen and Matilda continued to speak to each other, but she was finding it difficult to keep up with their quiet conversation. Ever so slowly, she drifted back into the bliss of sleep, understanding that the next time she woke they would answer all her questions.

  ****

  Hushed voices lured Fiona from her rest. When she opened her eyes, Aileen stood next to the window speaking to a man. Shaking his head, the man reached out and cupped her cheeks, giving her a long kiss. Hearing Aileen moan, she slowly glanced away feeling like an intruder on their intimate moment. At least she could turn her back, but the effort was painful, and instantly, Aileen and the man were at her side.

  “Here, let us help you,” said Aileen. “This is my husband, Stephen.”

  Walking around to the other side, he replied, “’Tis good to see ye are awake. We feared the worst.”

  She nodded as they helped raise her against the furs and pillows, wincing with effort. “Water, please,” she said, her voice a bit stronger along with her memories.

  Stephen smiled at her, and she could see traces of Alastair in his face. He took the mug from Aileen and helped her drink. She only took a few sips, letting the liquid soothe her parched mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I have some broth. Would you like some?” Aileen brought a bowl over and sat down on the bed.

  “Please.”

  Aileen chatted away while she fed her, telling her that she was expecting, which drew a groan from Stephen as he rolled his eyes.

  “Stop that,” Aileen scolded. “We discuss things like babies openly. Even with men.”

  “Well, thank the Gods that I do not live in your time.”

  Fiona stayed Aileen’s hand. “You are not from here, are you?”

  Aileen bit her lip, and then shook her head. “No. Born in Scotland and raised in Boston.”

  “And Brigid?”

  “Born and raised in Seattle. She’s married to Duncan.”

  “I was born in Ireland in the past and raised in Ireland of the future,” she uttered in a shocked tone. She started to giggle realizing how bizarre their statements sounded and ended up in a coughing seizure. Instantly, Stephen grasped her shoulders to help steady her. When the last of the fit subsided, Aileen helped her finish the broth.

  “That was delicious,” she sighed, leaning back.

  “Matilda will be pleased. She’s the one who prepared it special for your healing.”

  Stephen put an arm around Aileen, placing a kiss on her brow. “I shall go inform Duncan that Lady Fiona is awake, eating, and laughing.”

  “Wait, Stephen?”

  “Aye?”

  “Where is Alastair?”

  His face took a stern look when he answered, “He is not here.” Turning, he walked out of the chamber.

  Blast the man. She wanted to know more and he simply walked away. Narrowing her eyes at Aileen, she opened her mouth to ask her, when Brigid came walking in with another tray.

  “I’ve brought more
broth and fresh baked bread. You can only have a few bites—per Matilda’s orders. We just couldn’t resist, since it smells heavenly.” Setting the tray down, she plopped a piece in her mouth and handed some to Aileen.

  Fiona watched as Aileen dipped a piece in the broth, yet, her stomach was now twisted in knots. Could it be that Alastair was captured? “Was Alastair taken by Michael? Is that why he isn’t here?”

  Aileen placed the bread in the bowl and cast a glance at Brigid. “No, Fiona.”

  Brigid sat on the bed across from Aileen, and Fiona feared they were about to divulge something awful. Glaring at them both, she snapped, “Don’t coddle me. What happened to Alastair, and how long have I been asleep?”

  Brigid nodded. “First, Fiona, we would never coddle you, trust me when I tell you this. Second, you weren’t merely asleep, you were in a coma.”

  Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Coma?”

  “You took a fall and hit your head,” replied Aileen. “Alastair brought you here.”

  “How long?” she whispered.

  “Eight days,” answered Aileen.

  “So…long?” She touched her head, her fingers brushing over a bandage. “I remember Alastair told me to ride hard and fast down the hill, but Molly got spooked. I can’t recall anything else.”

  Brigid let out a long sigh. “Alastair battled some men and in the end he killed Michael.”

  “Michael’s dead? Good riddance,” she clipped out.

  “Actually, no, it isn’t,” replied Brigid.

  Were these people demented? “He tried to rape me and beat Alastair. If it wasn’t for his healing ability, he most likely would have died. So excuse me for not sharing in your grief.”

  Aileen reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “There is much you don’t understand. A battle of good and evil is fighting across this land and here between these two families. Michael MacFhearguis was not himself. He was being manipulated by dark magic—by an evil druid who seeks to control the power of the Dragon Knights. We have all suffered from his wrath.” Removing her hand, she stood and took the bowl over to the table. “Not only were we helping the MacFhearguis clan find their missing brother, but Alex MacFhearguis was here assisting Duncan and Stephen in finding this druid.”