Tavish was the first to come into view then... thank the Gods that be, Effie was fine; not a scratch as far as he could see. Her vibrant forest-green eyes grew wide and her hand covered her mouth in shock. “Effie,” he whispered.
The look on her face was more than he could endure. Her scrutinizing eyes held him with a cold stare.
“’Tis the man that waged his attack on the north tower and killed our father.” Tavish pointed to Conall.
Effie stared at the Highlander, shaking her head as if she was trying to erase him from sight.
“Effie, look at me. Dinnae believe a word he says.”
Sir Henry wrapped his arm around Effie’s shoulder, consoling her. “I know this must be hard on you, seeing the man who murdered your father stand before you.”
Effie was silent and kept her eyes fixed on Conall.
Somehow Conall had to talk to Effie and make her understand that there was no truth in their lies. Since mated Dragonkine Highlanders could talk to their mates through mind-speak, he prayed it would work. This was his last chance, for he could feel her tension; she was about to break. “Shake yer head if ye can hear me, lass?” He watched her intently, nothing, no response.
“I’ve seen enough.” Effie choked through the shock in her voice, then turned and hastily walked back through the corridor.
Conall’s voice echoed through the holding chamber as he yelled out to her. “Effie!”
Sir Henry cast Conall a sly grin as he turned to follow Effie.
“Effie, dinnae leave!” Conall grabbed the iron bars and quickly released his hold. Heat torched his skin as if he’d just touched a hot cauldron. Quickly he released the bar. “Shite!” He looked down at his reddened hands, as they started to blister. “What’s happening?”
Why wasn’t he healing? Three days should have been enough time to heal him, if not completely then at least half way. Blood still oozed from the stab wound, ribs were still broken, and his body showed bruises and cuts. Thankfully he could still feel his dragon, weak, but he was there nonetheless. Nothing was making sense.
Tavish slunk up to the cell like the snake he was. “I know who ye are. I’m no fool.”
“Ye know nothing,” Conall spat through the throbbing pain as he held his hands.
Tavish’s laugh sent a wave of vileness through Conall’s veins. “Oh but I do know. Ye see I have eyes and ears throughout Scotland. I know me sister fancies ye.” Tavish leaned in, careful not to get too close. “I know what ye two do in the woods.”
Conall stood as close as he could to the iron bars without touching them. Nostrils flared and storm-gray eyes intensified into a whirlwind. “Effie is yer sister?”
“Aye.”
Effie had a brother? For a moment Conall was taken aback. Effie had never mentioned that she had a brother. God’s wounds! Then that makes Sir Herbert her father. Tavish’s words rang back to him from moments ago, ’Tis the man that waged his attack on the north tower and killed our father. Effie thinks I killed her father.
The urge to run to her was driving him daft. Locked behind these bloody bars, he was trapped like some caged animal while the woman he loved had condemned him for murdering her father. Rage like never before boiled inside of him. He had to get to Effie.
“Heed my words well.” His eyes swirled. “If ye lay one finger on Effie, I will kill ye with me own bare hands.” It was not said to be a threat but a promise. Conall had never been more serious in his life. He’d failed once at protecting his late wife and son, he would not fail again.
“I do believe ye’re in no position to make those kind of threats. Ye need no’ fash yerself about me sister. I have plans for her.” Tavish turned and began to walk the corridor back to the stairs leading out from the dungeon.
The impulse to shift was too powerful to hold back. Conall leaned his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for the change. He was going after Effie, she had to know that he had not killed her father. Furthermore, he didn’t trust those bastards. His dragon stirred, yet something was wrong. An uneasiness came over the beast as if something was holding him back, not allowing him to surface.
The dragon grew distressed and began to panic. Terrified deep inside Conall, it shook and rattled with such force as if it was trying to escape a cage. Conall needed to calm the dragon down, and fast, before they both went insane.
Caden walked up to Conall on high alert. “Let her go. There’s no escaping these bars.”
In a flash Conall grabbed Caden by the front of his tunic and unleashed all his pent-up frustrations by ramming the lad’s body against the stone wall. Dust and dirt from the ceiling rained down on them from the force.
Conall stared him in the eyes. “What do ye know aboot these bars that ye aren’t telling me?”
Caden wickedly smiled. “I know enough to no’ touch them.”
“Who are ye?” There was something about this whole situation that left a bad taste in his mouth.
HIGHLAND STORM
CHAPTER SEVEN
Finally. Magnus stood to greet James as he entered the solar. The once peaceful Dragonkine elder was having a difficult time staying calm. Being as it was his tenth pint of ale, time seemed to stand still, as he had waited for James a bit longer than he cared to. God’s blood, he hadn’t just risked his life, escaping the creepers, to turn around and waste more precious time waiting on James. Time was of the essence. “James, will Rory and Conall be joining us?”
James took a seat behind his desk followed by his two prized Scottish deerhounds Lennox and Mahboon. “Rory will be here but Conall had some business to take care of for me.”
“I see.”
Neither man really wanted to discuss the issues, knowing the future held a grim possibility of destruction. The earth had been shaking frequently and the force of it all was causing an unsavory amount of concern.
On cue, Rory strolled in, meeting his fellow Dragonkine with a nod. The tension in the air was thick.
Magnus paced and stroked his beard, thinking of the best way to deliver the news. James sat back in his chair and said, “Och Magnus, ye’re making me dizzy. Oot wi` it.”
Magnus took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Our worst fears could verra well be upon us, men.” He faced his brethren and the room fell gray.
Rory stood by the hearth with his arms folded at his chest, his placid manner turned to stern distress. His posture said it all. Every man in the solar was at attention, waiting for Magnus’s next words.
“King Drest awakens.”
Silence, no response but a hard swallow and grinding of teeth could be heard. “Are ye sure?” James said.
“Aye, the night Marcus’s dragon was taken, King Drest stirred.” Magnus detested that he had to be the bearer of bad news. He knew James already hated the fact that he lost control that night and removed Marcus’s dragon essence, but it was better than the outcome that could have happened if Magnus hadn’t stopped him. Killing Marcus on holy ground would have awakened doom sooner.
Taking Abigale prisoner in order to trap James hadn’t sat well with the Kine. Furthermore, Marcus had kept hidden the fact that he was Kine. He’d waited for the perfect opportunity to make his move, killing James and spilling his blood on sacred ground had been his plan all along. But what he hadn’t counted on was the bond between James and Abigale. No one messed with a dragon’s woman and lived to tell the tale. Thank the Gods that Magnus had stopped James in time, before he’d fully killed Marcus.
“I dinnae understand, blood was not shed. I took his dragon, I did no’ kill the bloody bastard.” James stood and walked over to a table in the corner of the room where a pitcher of ale sat. He poured himself a tankard full and drained it.
“The elders seem to think that Marcus is the key to unearthing our past. He will be the one to awaken our king and bring troubled times to Scotland. A debt will be paid; humans will pay the price for MacAlpin’s treachery upon our Kine.”
“And what about Dragonkine? Are we to pay t
he price for the humans’ greedy ways?” Rory bit back. It was no secret, Rory wasn’t fond of the idea that Dragonkine adhere to human rule. Dragons needed their own kind.
“I’m afraid it matters no’ who ye be, ye be either with them or against them. There is no in between.”
“And the death dragons?” James asked.
Magnus shuddered at the name. Anything with the word death attached to it was of no good. “The elders would no’ say. But I believe they are here to help Marcus bring back King Drest. Do ye remember the part of the tale when seven royals were with King Drest when they fell in the pit of death?”
“Aye.”
“These creepers in human form, death dragons are the souls of those men. They are Drest’s elite guard. Somehow they have risen and are helping Marcus. It’s the only way I can make any sense of it all.”
“This is absurd. Why would Marcus want Drest to awaken? No good can come of this.” James began to pace.
“He is our rightful king,” Rory added.
James scrubbed a hand down his face. “So, how do we prevail? Abigale is human. I will no’ allow any harm to her, my child or my clan. King Robert has been good to me and Scotland.”
“I have a plan but it may be impossible to execute,” Magnus said.
James and Rory stared at Magnus with anticipation.
“We need to bring all six remaining Dragonkine together. We must build an army to protect Scotland against the attack.”
James laughed. “Have ye gone daft? Do ye know what would happen if all of Scotland knew that Dragons existed? Humans wouldn’t understand. We will be hunted!”
“Abigale accepts ye for who ye are.” Magnus dared to bring James’s wife into the conversation only because he had to make a point. If the Dragonkine had any hope of victory against Drest, they needed to band together.
James shot Magnus with a well-deserved swirling amber glare.
“Even if we were to get humans on our side, how in the bloody hell are we going to bring the Kine together? Do I need to remind ye there’s only six of us left and two of the six are missing. Odds do no’ seem to be in our favor,” Rory quipped.
The sound of the great hall doors being shoved open echoed up to the solar. James, Magnus, and Rory bolted downstairs. With a threat drawing closer, the men were on high alert.
~~~~~
James hit the bottom of the stairs and to his surprise he saw Alice tending to a young lad. “Alice?”
“My Laird, ’tis Broc. He’s badly wounded.” Her hands were soaked in blood.
“Rory, fetch me wife. Magnus help bring the lad upstairs to an empty bedchamber,” James ordered.
“There’s a bedchamber available on your right,” Alice said as she hurried to the kitchen to prepare some hot water.
No sooner had the men laid Broc down on the bed, Abigale and Rory hastily walked in to the bedchamber.
“Abigale, Broc needs your attention,” James said.
Abigale looked at her husband then to the lad. “Do we know what happened?” Abigale ripped Broc’s crimson-stained tunic off his chest.
Alice rushed in with boiling water and cloths.
The lad moaned in pain and tried to talk. “Maxwell... Conall.”
James bent down by Broc’s head. “What happened?”
Broc fought hard in between labored breaths. “It... was a trap.” He swallowed hard as Abigale wiped a wet cloth over his forehead.
“Maxwell’s men attacked us.” The pain was too much to bear and the lad slipped into unconsciousness.
James stepped out of the bedchamber, in shock. Magnus and Rory followed.
“Conall is in danger. I can feel it,” James said. “I must go to his aid.”
“Nay, James. Your wife is with child, ye stay here and me and Rory will go,” Magnus said.
“Aye, I can find him and be back before Abigale goes into labor.” Rory winked.
“Nay, I go!” James bit back through gritted teeth. “Conall’s me best friend and I put him in danger. I will go.”
Abigale walked out of the bedchamber wiping the blood from her hands on a cloth. “Go where?”
James raked his hand through his hair irately. “How’s Broc?”
“He’s been stabbed. The wound looks as if it happened a couple of days ago. ’Tis no’ deep. And he’s been badly beaten. Alice is cleaning the lad’s cuts as we speak.”
James was silent.
“Do ye plan to tell me where the three of ye be goin`?” Abigale looked at the three Dragonkine Highlanders.
James didn’t want to worry Abigale, nor place his burden on her, yet he knew his wife well. In no matter would she allow him to leave Angus without telling her what was going on and where he was headed.
“Conall could be in some trouble. I need to go to Caerlaverock Castle and make sure he’s alright.”
“Clan Maxwell?”
“Aye.”
“Effie left a day ago to visit her father at Caerlaverock Castle,” Alice blurted out as she came out of the bedchamber to inform Abigale she was done prepping Broc’s wounds.
“Effie’s a Maxwell?” James’s brows furrowed in question.
Alice fidgeted with her apron. “Please forgive me, laird. I promised no’ to tell.”
“Do ye think they are both in some kind of trouble?” Abigale asked.
James rubbed his hands over Abigale’s shoulders and bent down to look her in her deep blue eyes. “Dinnae worry, love. ’Tis no’ good for the babe.”
“Aye,” Rory interrupted, “three dragons can defeat one clan withoot any problem. We’ll be back before evening meal.”
Abigale smiled at Rory’s jest. “Ye must be back soon,” she rubbed her belly, “and bring back Effie.”
James kissed his wife with so much passion and love he thought his heart would burst. He felt her distress, for he understood. Both of their friends were in danger. By the condition that Broc was in, Conall had to be in a bad predicament and if Effie was with him they both very well could be in harm’s way.
James broke their kiss and whispered softly over her lips, “I love ye.”
Abigale took his head in her hands and gently rubbed her thumbs over the coarseness of his jawline. “Go find our friends and come back to me.”
Not wanting to let her go, he broke away and started to bark out orders. “Magnus, ye’ll stay here. I need a dragon to stay behind to protect the castle.”
“Aye.”
“I want at least ten heavily armed guards with Abigale at all times.”
Abigale shot James an aggravated look.
“Och lass, five then. Five guards and I will no’ have any less.”
Abigale smiled at her husband’s overprotective ways.
James began to make his way to the stables to ready his horse. Rory followed closely behind, cracking his fingers in anticipation of a good fight. “Oh and Magnus, the gates are to stay down until our return.”
“Aye.”
Funny how love could change a man. James pondered on this concept as he made his way through the great hall. He never wanted a wife before he met Abigale, nor did he want to play the part of a clan chief, yet here he was in that role and he had never felt more content and alive in his life. This is who he was born to be; a mated Dragonkine warrior, protecting his family.
~~~~~
Breathing in the frigid air, Marcus awoke to the bitter sting of cold. He rolled over onto his back and as he moved he heard a slight crunching beneath him as if he was lying on top of a blanket of snow. Snow? he thought. The last image he remembered was falling from his horse and a blood trail in the snow. Was he still in the forest?
The howling whistle of the wind sounded muffled. He waited for the arctic blast to chill his body but it never came. Where was he? Dripping water sounds echoed through his head like ice melting into a puddle.
With a great effort, he opened his eyes and soon realized that he was in a cave, a dark icy cave. Struggling to a sitting position, he searched th
e hollowed-out cavern for any signs of life. Marcus tried to call out but didn’t make a sound. He coughed through the dryness of his throat but still it was difficult to speak.
An empty feeling tore at his chest as he coughed. He was missing a part of him, his dragon. All of his life he had searched for inner peace, trying to accept who he was. He’d cursed the day that he transformed into Dragonkine. The more he’d fought it, the more his dragon became stronger.
Being around his cousin, James Douglas, hadn’t helped in the matter, to say the least. James accepted his dragon and the dragon had blessed him with vigorous power and a battle-driven soul. Marcus, on the other hand, had kept his dragon a secret. His dragon had never begged to reveal itself, instead it kept quiet. Marcus’s envy of his cousin, and life’s misfortunes, had fed his defeat and he had grown cold, just like his dragon.
Now that his dragon was gone, he yearned to feel him again.
After decades of fighting with his dragon, they had become one and now he mourned for his other half. Placing a hand over his chest he realized he was as naked as the day he was born. Being human now he should be shivering, catching his death. The rocks covered in ice should be biting at his skin, yet for some odd reason he took comfort in the cold; it soothed his beaten skin and bloody wounds.
Marcus stood. Weakly he shuffled his way to the mouth of the cave and stopped abruptly as he looked out over the edge. Blue-gray skies filled his view. A few clouds slowly wisped by, and a distant shrill shriek of a hawk echoed over the mountaintops. This ice cave had been carved out from the highest mountain in the Highlands. But how did he get here?
Fatigue set in his bones and he shook with pain. He needed more healing sleep. As if it would help; he was now merely human. Bracing himself along the cave’s walls, he shuffled back to his resting spot. Tucking himself into a huddled ball, he buried himself into the powdery snow like it was a warm bed. His body absorbed the cold and the chill comforted his soul.
HIGHLAND STORM
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tall, Dark, and Medieval Page 7