Chapter 10
Shivering, Rynne wakened just before the sun began to peak above the horizon. She rolled to see Brendan nestled into his own bed sack a scant two feet from her, exactly where he’d been when they’d first bedded down for the night.
The indentation beside her was still warm, making her smile. He’d been most gentlemanly throughout the hours he’d been beside her. She’d been surprised, especially considering that she had awakened a few times to feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her backside.
It had been difficult for her as well having him so near. Exhaustion had warred with her own arousal—her need to feel him versus her need to sleep. The few snores from some of the other men close by had been the final bit of encouragement and she’d allowed sleep to pull her under each time, no longer afraid of whether she would wake upon the morn. Now, her body burned for him, making her regret her decision.
Brendan threw back his covers and jumped to his feet, turning to survey the camp and the men already beginning to make ready to leave. When his eyes lit upon her, she could see the same burning passion reflected back at her.
“Good morning, my lady.” His gaze swept down her, making her shiver. “I trust you slept well.”
Rynne could see the slight lifting of the corners of his mouth and she had to bite her own lips to keep from returning the smile.
“Quite well. Thank you.”
Tearing her gaze from his, Rynne attempted at a dignified rise, though her aching body protested, causing her to groan. She heard a chuckle from behind her and turned to see Lord Conall. He greeted her with a bow of his head and a bright smile.
“It takes some getting used to, these days in the saddle.”
The wink to his lord that he thought she hadn’t seen had her wondering whether he knew the full extent of why she was sore. She looked down and nodded.
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid today will be no better. We’ll have to make haste to make up for the time we lost yesterday,” he told her.
Rynne knew they’d had a slower start due to the heavy downpour causing mudslides and several of the streams they’d crossed to swell, forcing them to go further to find a safer way to cross over. Their pace had been relentless after that. She couldn’t imagine going any faster.
She sighed and several more of the men joined in the chuckling. Head raising, Rynne squared her shoulders, determined to prove that she could withstand whatever came her way.
“Let us make ready then. I should hate to be the cause of any further delay.”
In the span of two hours, the group crossed the border into Thurwickden, a thin strip of water separating the two fiefdoms. To her left, Conall lifted his hand in the air, his fingers rising in some unknown configuration before he made a sweeping motion first one way and then another. Two groups of men broke off from the rest, each riding ahead in different directions.
Her brows down, Rynne looked at Brendan who merely put a finger to his mouth. She nodded, her senses tingling. Did they suspect something or was this routine when entering the lands of another? She knew the unrest Thurwickden had been experiencing would have them all more cautious as well, but she hadn’t expected it so quickly after their crossing.
When another three hours passed without incident, the sun climbing into position above them reminding her that sustenance was a mandatory inconvenience, she’d begun to believe the extreme carefulness had all been for naught. Her bum hurt from the constant jostle of the fast-moving horses and her hands hurt from gripping the saddle horn, not to mention she had need of the make-shift privy. A sideways glance at Lord MacCailín told her he was aware of her distress.
“There’s a small clearing with a pond not too far ahead. We’ll stop there to rest and eat,” he told her.
Rynne nodded and thanked him in the same quiet tones he’d used. It wasn’t as if talking would have been any louder than the movement of so many horses, but silence seemed to be the order of the day.
“The other men have not returned. Do you not fear for their safety?” she asked Brendan as they chatted quietly over their meal. She’d noticed throughout the day that more small groups had been commanded to head off or fall back.
Brendan shook his head. “I’d be more concerned if they had.” When she frowned, he leaned closer. “Much like your privy breaks, they’ve spread out to encircle us. It would take someone rising from our midst to penetrate the fortress we’ve created to protect you.”
Rynne stilled, breathing only by sheer will, her gaze dropping to his lips so very close to her. If she moved her head just slightly forward… Brendan chuckled and backed away. Her cheeks heating, she closed her eyes. Good heavens, this man addled her senses.
Rising, she made her way to the pool and knelt. The cool water on her face would feel good. As she cupped her hands and reached to fill them, a ripple slid across the clear surface, an image of the fountain with the dragon materializing before her. Rynne screamed and thrust herself backwards, landing on her rear and finding four men instantly at her sides, their swords drawn. Brendan raced forward, his eyes wide, surveying the area as he finished tying the drawstring of his britches, his tunic falling back into place.
“What is the danger, my lady?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.
Rynne grasped his fingers, allowing him to pull her up, her rounded eyes contrasting the shaking of her head.
“I… I’m sorry. It m… must have been just a shadow.
Brendan stared at her for a moment before slowly nodding his head and dismissing his men with a slight wave of his hand.
When the others had moved to a respectable distance, he grabbed her arm, pulling her closer.
“What did you really see?” he asked, his voice low, firm.
Rynne’s hesitation, she knew, spoke volumes.
“An image,” she whispered, her hand moving to lay lightly against her chest. “The men… at the fountain…” She’d told him of her ventures as she’d laid in his arms during that first night so she knew he knew what she was talking about, even with her few words.
“Rynne.” His eyes locked with hers and he continued to speak quietly. “I need to tell you something. Those men… I fear they are Driagaran.”
When she covered her mouth with her free hand, he pulled her closer, his arms encircling her. She laid her head against his chest, his palm brushed against her cheek, and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her hair.
Driagaran. That wasn’t possible. Men who morphed into dragons were just a myth… The image she’d seen in the pool filled her mind, the men becoming clearer. They’d been wearing rings similar to the one she couldn’t get off her brother’s hand. Still, it couldn’t be. The Driagaran were considered evil in the fables. Kensey couldn’t be one of them.
Almost as if he could read her mind, Brendan spoke.
“There are two kinds of shifters. Rynne, listen to me.”
When she started to shake her head, he took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.
“The Druajen are from a different lineage. They are men who are dragons that have pledged their allegiance to our King and his lands. Your brother…”
Pulling in an unsteady breath, Rynne interrupted with her own conclusions.
“And Brantley. That’s the reason for the unrest in his land.” She closed her eyes then opened them wide. “And… you.” Her eyes grew damp as she stared at him like he was some sort of monster.
“And me.” He held her arm when she tried to pull back. “The mark on your shoulder, I think it means…”
Rynne screamed when dragons shot from the pool at Brendan’s back. She heard him curse as he pushed her away, telling her to run to the trees. A split second of frozen uncertainty had him yelling at her again and she finally ran, the scrape of his sword sliding from the scabbard urging her forward.
At the edge of the forest she turned, slinking down behind a large tree. Eyes wide, Rynne tried to take in the battle before her. She counted as best as she
could. There were at least seven dragons in the clearing, their massive bodies filling the space. Two took to the air on wings that looked too sheer to support them and she noticed there were more above them in the skies. She couldn’t see Brendan, had no idea if he was man or beast. Her view became more obscured by the dirt and debris stirred up by the battle. It was hard trying to figure out who was friend and who was foe.
The bodies of several men and two of the dragons fell to the ground near Rynne. She heard a hideous scream, the ground shaking as another collapsed close to her hiding place. She whimpered when she saw the hilt of the sword that was buried in the spot where it’s neck connected to its body.
The Locktonhurst crest was clearly visible on the pommel, Brendan’s signifying stone shining from the middle. She closed her eyes, offering up a prayer for the now unarmed man, provided he was still man. She surmised that since he was using his sword, he hadn’t changed. Why? She thought back, unable to recall him wearing a ring like the others. If he had, she surely would have remembered.
As the remaining dragons took to the sky and the dust cleared, she could see a handful of men still in hand to hand combat. She gagged, trying to hold in her lunch as the huge bodies of the dead beasts morphed back into man form. Her heart slammed against her chest, eyes wide and wild as she continued to search for Brendan before she finally spotted him. Three men surrounded him, attempting to get a hold of his arms. Only one had a sword, though he didn’t seem to be trying to run Brendan through.
The water, she thought. They were slowly backing him toward the water.
Rynne stood, her legs protesting the crouched position she’d been in for too long. Raising her chin and her arms, she prayed for strength and guidance, breaking her gaze away from the scene before her only long enough to locate Brendan’s sword. It had fallen to the ground when the dragon changed back into a man.
She didn’t quiver when she picked up the heavy blade, didn’t gag at the blood along its edges. She didn’t even yell as she lifted it high above her head and ran across the clearing, swinging it, listening to the swooshing as it broke the air, separating the head of Brendan’s armed attacker from his body. Stumbling, she caught her footing just in time to run another one through when he lunged for her, then turned to find Brendan rolling on the ground with the third one.
When Brendan’s attacker managed to grab the hilt of a dead man’s sword, Rynne did scream, the blood curdling sound stopping the fighting all around just long enough to give the Locktonhurst men the upper hand over the remaining Driagaran.
All except one.
Rynne watched in horror as the short blade pierced Brendan’s side. In slow motion, he pushed the man away, twirling him in the process and twisting his arm to where the man would fall on the same blade that had left the hole in his side. Stumbling, Brendan moved toward her, going down after a couple of steps. Rynne screamed again, his sword falling to the ground beside her before she ran, dropping to her knees beside the gasping man.
“My lord,” she cried, her eyes brimming with tears. Brendan watched her, his gaze heavy, slow smile evaporating in a grimace. He grabbed his side, a painful chuckle causing him to groan.
“You are safe,” he managed to croak out.
Rynne glanced over her shoulders to see that only his men remained standing. She nodded, crouching over him when he fought to suppress another moan, his hand pressed to his side. Dear God, she thought, don’t let him die.
The vial swung free as she leaned forward, reminding Rynne of her mission. What cruelty Fate had foisted on her. Had she not gone for the potion in the first place, this man would have had no need to shed his own blood to save her. He’d be home, safe within the walls of his castle and her heart would be none the wiser that she could love someone so completely in such a short amount of time.
He reached for her, his hand slapping the potion bottle instead. Instinctively, Rynne grabbed it, the action jolting her, causing her to break the chain.
The potion bottle in one hand, his in her other, Rynne frowned. Since the potion was to restore her brother, would it also work to save Brendan? If she gave it to him, then she’d have none for her brother. Could she get more? What if it didn’t work and she wasted it and neither lived?
So many questions tumbled through her head. She couldn’t make this choice. Her heart raced and she closed her eyes. How could she choose?
How could she not?
Pulling the cork free from the vial, Rynne positioned the opening near his lips, willing her hands to stop trembling. It wouldn’t do to lose any of the precious liquid. She tapped the last of the drops into his mouth and waited. Nothing happened.
“Please,” she whispered. “Help him.”
The Ring.
Eyes wide, Rynne looked over her shoulder to where the voice had come from. No one was there, and still she heard the words again.
“There is no ring!” she screamed.
When his breath stilled, she wailed, collapsing against his chest, her hand landing over the pouch at his waist. Precious seconds passed before she realized it held more than coin. She sat up, working her fingers into the pouch and pulling out the hard item. She gasped. It was a ring exactly like the one her brother wore.
With tears in her eyes, she crossed herself and slipped the ring onto his finger, nearly screaming when the bush closest to her began to shake. She scanned the area, noting the only sword within her reach was the one the other man had used on Brendan. She couldn’t force herself to reach for it, not with his blood covering the blade. If whoever was coming through the brush was enemy and this was truly the end, at least she would die beside the man who had so swiftly managed to snare her heart. She lay her head on his chest, her tears mingling with the moisture that was already there. Please, she thought again, don’t let us die before I can tell him I love him.
Conall and several of the other Locktonhurst men burst through the brush into the clearing just as the first convulsion tossed Brendan’s body into the air, throwing Rynne back toward them. She watched in horror as Brendan’s frame twisted, bowing his back, only his shoulders and his feet touching the ground. He looked toward them, eyes wide, unseeing, mouth contorted in a silent scream that had Rynne groaning and tugging against the man who held her back.
To her side, Conall yelled his name, telling him to relax, to let the transformation take place. Brendan shuddered, his body rolled, limbs flailing to some unheard melody. A deep, guttural growl sounded in his throat and he stood, his shoulders rounding, arms outstretched. From inside him, bones popped, tendons loosened and tightened. Rynne turned, burying her face in the chest of one of the guards, covering her ears with her hands. She couldn’t bear it.
Brendan looked down to see his reshaped body covered in scales, though he was surprised to see them much less reptilian than he had imagined they would be. The first transformation, he’d been told, would be the most difficult. They hadn’t been wrong. Having one’s form snapped and pulled, molding into another being, was tougher than the others had made it look. Feather-like scales covered him. They were beautiful, the color of moonlit glass, and when he lifted his arms, wings had taken their place—wings that seemed a ghostly gossamer, yet they were strong… strong enough, he knew, to lift his massive body and carry it through the air.
But not now. Now he had to see to the lady. He’d heard her screams, seen her fighting, and… Willing his body to return to human form, Brendan transformed and picked up the empty vial. On shaky legs, he walked toward the group. His hands on her shoulders, he whispered her name.
Rynne tensed, her eyes huge as she turned around before throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she tried to hug the very breath from him.
Laughing, Brendan twirled her around, kissing her soundly when she released him enough so that he could see her face.
Still feeling the vial in his palm, he pulled back and opened his hand. “You saved my life… but what of your brother?”
She smiled
at him through her wet lashes.
“I had no guarantee it would work… for my brother or for you. But I couldn’t watch you die knowing there might be a chance…” A strangled sob stopped her words. “I’ll get more. I have to be able… you said yourself that I just have to believe.”
“There’s always hope as long as someone believes,” Brendan nodded as he repeated the words he’d said to her in the garden.
A warmth filled his hand and he held the vial upright between his thumb and finger, watching in awe as the liquid replenished itself.
Unknown words whispered in the wind as a black feather floated to the ground.
“Corvona Bruxa,” Rynne whispered, new tears joining the others on her already wet cheeks. “Thank you, my friend.”
Without anyone asking them, Brendan’s men fell to the ground to search for the stopper that would keep the life-giving potion inside the vial. Brendan pulled a pendant from the front of his tunic and slipped it from the chain. Rynne caught his wrist, studying the metal dragon for a few seconds before letting him drop it into his pouch. He handed her the chain, knowing she’d need it to secure the vial. Ah, how he’d love to be that vial when it was nestled between her breasts…
He shuddered. This was not the time to let renewed lust settle in. They needed to get on their way to Honorcrest. They’d defeated the dark forces of the Driagaran this time, but there would be more. There were always more. That’s how it had been throughout the ages, the evil Driagaran shifters trying to get the protective force—the Druajen shifters to join them or risk death, their goal being to extinguish his kind so that they could take over the whole kingdom.
Brendan wasn’t going to let that happen, especially now that Fate had sent a she dragon as his mate. Even now, the future of the Druajen could be growing in her womb. The thought made him nearly giddy, threatening to overwhelm him. He’d noticed his senses being much sharper since his transformation. He could live with that, though for now, he needed to focus on getting them to her family home of Honorcrest.
A Leap of Faith (A Coin in the Fountain Love Story) Page 5