Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  He leaned in, giving her a soft kiss. “I love ye, lass, and whatever may be, I’ll be here, right here with ye.” His words were more than a promise, they were an assurance.

  Her smile was all that he needed as he looked down at his beautiful red-haired lass. It reassured him that he’d done right by her. Together they would conquer the outcome of the situation, and no matter what, he would be there right by her side.

  “Conall, can ye bring me some food?”

  “Aye, what do ye fancy?”

  “Alice’s special oat cakes.” She rolled her eyes, as if she remembered the delectable taste.

  Bending down he kissed her forehead and lingered there for a brief second as he closed his eyes and thanked the Gods that be that his Effie was alive and he was forgiven.

  HIGHLAND STORM

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A long emotional week followed, which started out positive, optimistic at its height, but alas the mood turned to frustration as Effie was losing her hold on hope, for she had done everything in her power to walk or at least feel some sensation in her legs. Conall had massaged her legs with healing oils that Abigale swore by, yet no luck. Every day, three times a day he would exercise her legs, bending them at the knee and then releasing them, yet again, nothing. She refused his kind gesture to pick her up and take her outside for fresh air, telling her that the sun would do her some good. Nor would she accompany him to the great hall for meals when he asked. She didn’t want to be a burden. Besides, she wasn’t quite ready to face the world attached to a chair and she didn’t want to be pitied.

  After the argument she’d had with Conall a few minutes ago about wedding plans, and her inability to walk to her husband on their wedding day, she kicked him out of the room. He was adamant that they marry as soon as possible and as stubborn as he was he wasn’t taking no for an answer. For the love of saints, she was only asking him to wait another month. Heated and irrational, she’d told him what to do with his plans and threw a candlestick from her nightstand at him when he refused to leave. And now with no ability to run, she was stuck in this Godforsaken bedchamber immobilized in a bed with her face flushed red, alone.

  Perhaps it was the sage wafting in the air that was driving her daft or the way the trinkets would rattle as the wind blew in from the open window. Nay, there was one thing and only one that was driving her to insanity. Her legs. Her legs would just not move.

  Irritated she huffed and threw her body back down into the billowing pillows, heaving one across the room. There were so many damn pillows. As she lay, she blew a loose red curl from her face, ashamed of her nasty attitude and the way she’d treated Conall. It was unforgivable. He was only trying to help her, which only made her feel worse.

  She turned her head toward the nightstand, recalling the way she flung the candlestick, and to her surprise she noticed that the missive her father had left her was lying on the table. It was finally time she read his last words. Scooting herself toward the side of the bed, she finally reached the nightstand. With her arm reached out, she willed her body further and grabbed the note.

  She gently flattened the scrolled parchment and began to read her father’s last words.

  My dearest daughter,

  It saddens me heart that we have drifted apart, yet I knew that the time would come when ye would blossom into a beautiful bird and leave the nest. Ye’re a strong woman just like yer mother. I still miss her dearly. Ye remind me of her, ye have her smile and courageousness. She’d be proud of ye just as I am.

  Though I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, I’ve strayed from yer mother and caused her pain. I should have told ye sooner but Tavish is me bastart son. And a bastart he is. I never loved his mother and I think in return Tavish knew this and hated me for it. His hatred grew when ye were born. He felt threatened by ye because pure Maxwell blood runs through yer veins and yer heart is pure.

  Ye’re probably asking yerself why I didnae tell ye sooner and frankly I ask the same question to meself. Perhaps I wanted to protect ye from all the politics of being a clan chief or maybe I just felt invincible. Whatever it may have been my dearest, ye are the one and only true Maxwell and the only one to take me place.

  Keep Sir Neil close at hand. He will protect ye. As for I... och lass, I dinnae need to tell ye what ye already know. I’m with yer mother and I will tell her what a fine lass ye’ve become.

  Da

  Tears streamed down her cheeks and dappled the parchment as she finished reading the last lines of the note.

  “Oh da, I wish I could have said goodbye.” She sniffed and brushed her face with the back of her hands. If only she could have seen him one last time.

  Her father was a strong leader, one of the best. How was she going to follow in her father’s footsteps when she couldn’t walk? How would she ride out in battle to encourage her warriors to fight for her and their clan? Even more, how could a clan follow a broken chief? Her clan would be an easy target she supposed, for she was a female, and not too many females were clan leaders. That alone made her weak in the enemy’s eyes.

  Without doubt Neil would stand by her as the loyalist Maxwell warrior he was. He’d proven his loyalty and she could count on him to advise her. He was just like a father to her and now more than ever she would need him.

  Another thought came to her as she rubbed her belly. A babe. She smiled and pushed away the thought of the possibility that the unborn would not make it. She had to believe that some good could come out of the disaster she and Conall had been through or else she would go daft. It broke her heart knowing that Conall would never forgive himself if the babe didn’t make it.

  So she had only one option; she needed to walk. She needed to be strong for Conall, the babe, and her clan, and she was going to walk to her husband on their wedding day, that was a fact. There were too many people depending on her for her to give up and quit. Her mother fought her illness to the death, her father fought to his last breath, and she’d been fighting her whole life to free herself from a horrific past. There was no honor in lying down like a defeated coward. If her family had taught her one thing it was to fight.

  Determined more than ever she ripped the blankets off her body with one tug and rose up on her elbows. Glaring at her toes as if she dared them to disobey, she said, “Move ye bloody bastarts. Wiggle.” A few seconds passed and the slightest tingle pricked her toes. Not just one toe but all ten. Straining to flex her toes back and forth, she was surprised when the ten wiggly digits succumbed to her command.

  As her feet became more accustomed to the movement, the prickling sensation moved up her calf and caused her muscles to twitch. She held back an excited squeal, for she knew this could be false hope leading her down a doomed path.

  She flexed her toes and rotated her ankles slightly from side to side until they were fatigued. Her elbows shook with exhaustion and gave out from beneath her. Fighting the urge to give up, Effie lay there regaining her strength and honing in on her inner cheering-crowd. Ye can do this, Effie.

  She gave pause when she felt a faint flutter dance across her belly. Unable to move from the pure shock of the movement, she stilled and waited to feel it again. Shortly, another dance rippled like the tiniest flap of a baby bird’s wings just learning to fluff its feathers.

  Instantly, Effie placed her hand on her stomach and her lips spread across her face into the biggest grin she had ever smiled. “My babe.”

  She shot up into a sitting position. “I must tell Conall.” As if she had forgotten about her useless legs, she heaved them over to the side of the bed and touched her toes to the stone floor. The coldness of the ground sent a welcoming shiver over her skin. Aye, she thought, ’tis a good sign.

  ~~~~~

  After the morning meal was prepared to its finest and gobbled up like a feast on a holy day celebration, James called the Dragonkine warriors to a meeting. Kine business had been set aside until Effie’s condition was stable and for that Conall was grateful. Effie and the babe we
re the only things running through his mind.

  James met Conall as they both walked up the stairs to the solar where their Dragonkine brothers waited to start the meeting.

  “So, Conall.” James clasped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “I heard a crash coming from Effie’s chamber this morn as me and Abigale were walking to break our fast. Does Effie fare well?” He sounded as if he was deeply concerned, but there was a slight hint of jest in James’s words as he sniggered.

  Conall blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. “Aye, if you call being able to throw a candlestick well then she fares well. She does no’ like me opinion on our wedding plans.”

  “I see. Perhaps ye need to give the lass some more time to heal before talking aboot a wedding.”

  “Aye, I just want her to know that I love her and no matter what the outcome is, I will be there for her.”

  James stopped right outside the solar doors and turned to his friend. “Me brother, have no doubts. The lass loves ye. And the two of ye are home and safe.”

  And that he was, he was home with his red-haired lass and his brothers.

  Conall grew serious. His friend had laid their secrecy on the line to rescue him. That in itself was a difficult decision to make. But that was what Dragonkine warriors did. Risking their own life to save their brothers; loyalty ran more than scale deep, it was embedded in their souls.

  “James, thank ye for coming to me aid. I know it was no easy decision to make, putting the Kine at risk.”

  James turned to Conall. “Ye’d do the same for me.” He bumped his shoulder into Conall’s shoulder.

  As they walked in the room, Magnus, Rory, and Caden greeted them. James took his seat behind the big wooden desk in the center of the room while Conall took his usual spot next to the hearth.

  As the meeting started, Conall explained what had happened back at Caerlaverock castle and how Tavish had ambushed him and his men, killing all of their men and imprisoning him for a crime he did not commit. Also he informed James about how Tavish had blamed the English attack on the north tower on clan Douglas.

  “I didnae realize how close we were to a clan war.” James rubbed his chin, taking in all the newfound information.

  “Aye.” Conall shook his head at the thought. “I need to inform Broc’s family about what happened.”

  Sadness ached his heart as he knew that Broc’s family would be devastated to learn the misfortune of their son’s death. Broc was a good lad, the finest.

  “No need. Broc is here and recovering, thanks to me wife. He was the one who informed us ye were in trouble.”

  Relief washed over him. The laddie was alive. He made a mental note; first thing after he checked on Effie, he was going to pay Broc a visit.

  As Conall continued relaying what went down in Dumfries, there was one thing that he couldn’t understand and that was the magic in the dungeon. No human could have possibly known about this dark magic that killed dragons.

  “James, there’s one thing I do no’ quite understand. When I was being held down in the dungeon, there was this dark magic that laced the iron bars. It entrapped me dragon. I was unable to heal and I could no’ shift.”

  A symphony of shite blurted from the Kine’s mouths.

  “Like that same dark magic that almost killed me?” James said.

  “Aye, it must be.”

  “Och, laddies, it seems Marcus must be up to no good,” Magnus said.

  James fell grim as he looked around the room. “Nay, I dinnae think it was Marcus this time. When I went back to bury Tavish, his body was gone.”

  “Aye,” Rory interrupted. “But someone else could have buried the bastart.”

  “Nay, it’s the blood trail I saw leaving the tower that concerns me and might answer our question about the magic. The trail began with shuffled human footprints, then morphed into a webbed print. But what concerns me more is that it looked as if a tail was dragged through the blood.” James tightened his jaw as he said the last few words.

  “It can no’ be.” Conall stood and paced in front of the hearth. “I broke the bastart’s neck with me own bare hands.”

  “I believe James. Tavish is more than what we think he is and now he’s on the loose,” Magnus said.

  “Caden, ye were in that dungeon longer than me, what say ye?” Conall questioned.

  Caden stood with his arms crossed over his chest as if he was shielding himself from the other men. He was closed off, wrapped up and sealed tight. He turned from looking outside the window. “Ye are right. It’s dark black magic that ye felt in the cell. How it got there I do no’ know.”

  “And how did ye end up imprisoned at Caerlaverock?” James inquired. He did not trust the lad, but allowed him to stay at Black Stone as long as Magnus had him under a watchful eye. Being Dragonkine, James needed Caden for his next plan. To battle the ancients.

  The blonde-haired lad turned his attention back to the window and pulled his cloak up around his shoulders. He seemed to care naught about the situation. The only reason he stayed here at Black Stone was because he’d been ordered to, and if he was honest with himself, he had nowhere else to go. As uncomfortable as it was he would stay and play nice for as long as he could stand it, but his patience was already tried. He’d be planning his departure soon.

  Rory advanced on Caden, throwing him up against the wall. “I do believe ye were asked a question,” he spat.

  Caden glared back at him and flashed his vibrant green eyes.

  Conall stepped between the two dragons, breaking up the tension. “Stand down, Rory. Caden is one of us. He can be trusted.”

  Rory eased his grip on Caden but got in one last word before he sat back down. “I’ll be watching ye.”

  Adjusting his cloak, Caden stood there feeling like he had been backed into a corner. He wasn’t about to tell them his life story. It was no concern of theirs.

  “Conall?” James raised a brow in question.

  “He didnae tell me much, just that he was imprisoned for who he was.” Conall looked over at Caden and nodded.

  “So Tavish knew ye were Dragonkine?” James asked Caden, who shrugged his shoulders for an answer.

  “Laddie, it would fare ye well no’ to piss off the Black Douglas if ye like yer pretty head of golden locks,” Magnus warned.

  Again Caden shrugged, making it perfectly clear he cared not.

  As the meeting carried on, James informed Conall about the information Magnus had found out when he met with the elders. They were going to need to build an army against Marcus and the ancients. But the problem was they needed more Kine. There was one known Dragonkine warrior left and no one could locate him, not even Rory. There was no time. Marcus would eventually attack, but where and when was still left a mystery.

  There was chatter about keeping their eyes to the west where the holy ground lay. On the outskirts, there were four clans close by surrounding the holy ground. Knowing Marcus wasn’t done with his mission, they knew his next step was going to be to build an army. One of the four clans was small and secluded. They kept to themselves and refused Douglas protection.

  As Magnus, Conall and James reviewed a map of the holy ground, they tried to assess where Marcus might attack first.

  “If I were planning to attack,” James offered, “I would head north.” He pointed at the map. “Take out the smallest clan first.”

  “Aye,” Magnus concurred.

  “We need to send word aboot a possible attack. Warn their people and offer our protection,” James said.

  Rory stepped beside James and Conall. “And how do ye suppose we do that? Tell them about the dragon ancients coming for them? Ye saw how well Dumfries took to our dragons. I’m surprised we dinnae have brave dragon slayers burning down our door to kill the evil devils.” Rory was being a wee bit sarcastic, yet his jest held truth.

  “Och, we’re dragons, Guardians of Scotland, regardless of what the people think. If we do no’ stop this awakening, we’re all dead. I love me w
ife too much to lose her. I will do whatever it takes to protect her.” James’s words never rang truer.

  Being the master strategist in guerilla warfare that he was, James advanced his plan of attack as he examined the map on his desk. Fondling a dragon head chess piece, rolling it between his fingers, he was in deep thought as he studied the map. “Four clans surround the holy ground here.” He placed a dragon head figurine down on the auld kingdom of Govan. “Lanarkshire to the south, which is me brother, Archie’s land.” He placed another small dragon head down on the said place. “We’ll have that secured in no time. To the east lies Helmfirth.” Another dragon head marked the spot.

  “To the west Renfrewshire.” He placed another dragon head on the map. “To the north, Ravenloch, there’s a small and secluded clan there. This will be a challenge. They do no’ trust easily.” He paused. “If we place a Kine in each one of these sites, we can secure the borders of Govan and prevent Marcus from unleashing hell on Scotland.”

  Caden turned to the men who surrounded James’s desk, who were deep in thought. Ravenloch. His heart skipped a beat and his eyes went wide.

  “Next question, Kine.” James stood straight and looked at his men. “Who’s with me?”

  Without hesitation Magnus answered, “Aye, laddie.”

  Rory paused and looked at the map, then back at James. “Aye, me brother.”

  And before Conall could answer, Caden strode over to the table and grabbed the dragon head piece off the map of Ravenloch. “I’m in.”

  The men grew grave as they all felt the room tremble the slightest bit such that only a dragon could feel. Aye, they could no’ fail.

  HIGHLAND STORM

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gently Effie rose on shaking legs like a newly born fawn trying to walk for the first time. Pin pricks tickled up her legs all the way to her thighs. The sensation reminded her of when her legs would fall asleep. As she gained enough courage and strength she dared to take a step. She swayed as she grew accustomed to the stinging sensation. “’Tis no’ so bad,” she reassured herself.