by Victoria Zak
“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 the 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 the 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.
Chapter 8
Effie had made it back to her bedchamber just in time before she’d emptied the contents of her stomach into an empty pitcher sitting next to her nightstand. Maggie rushed to her and held her hair back. When Effie came up for air, Maggie noticed tears streaming from her eyes. “Here, come sit down.” The chambermaid motioned for Effie to sit on the bed while she fetched a cloth and water.
This all had to be an awful nightmare. Conall being locked away in a dungeon accused of murder seemed so surreal, yet she had seen him with her very own eyes, even heard his voice calling out to her in some desperate cry for help. To add to her dismay, her family for the last five years had attack her home? This cannot be true. Tears continued to well up, her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she just knew she was going to fall ill again.
“Here mistress, take this.” Maggie handed Effie a cold, wet cloth and tied her unruly red curls back away from her face. “Is there anything I can do for ye?”
Effie shook her head no and hastily grabbed the pitcher. There was nothing anyone could do to ease the hurt and betrayal she felt. It squeezed at her chest as if someone had torn her heart out.
Why did he do this to her? All the years past, she would have never believed that the man she loved could be so depraved. Finally asking for her hand in marriage, then killing her father and attacking her home as if it were some cruel way of showing his profound love for her. Nay, she did not know that man in the dungeon.
Weak and emotionally drained, Effie lay down to rest. Why was this happening to her? Why was fate being so cruel again? She was right back at the very same place she’d vowed never to return to. With her father dead, no one was here to protect her and it wouldn’t be long now before Tavish would conjure up some dastardly deed for her to fulfill. Effie sobbed into her pillow, releasing all her fears.
She should have known better than to run from her past. No matter how far you lead in the race the past always catches up and wins in the end.
Pulling a fur over Effie’s body, Maggie tucked the top of the fur under her chin. “I’ll leave ye to yer rest.” Maggie began to step away until Effie grabbed her wrist.
“Please, stay. I dinnae want to be alone.” Effie scooted over, tapping her hand next to her. “Please.” Maggie slipped her shoes off and crawled into bed. Effie cuddled next to her. “When I was a wee girl me ma used to cuddle with me when I was sick.”
“Aye, mistress—“
“Please call me Effie.”
“Aye. There’s nothing like a mother’s love when ye’re sick.”
“Are ye close wi’ yer ma?” Effie asked.
“Aye, I visit with her every day when I get a break.”
Effie smiled, remembering a time when her ma would crawl into bed with her and tell her tales about auld folklore of magical fairies. Or they would talk about the mischievous lads and their stubborn ways. There had always been a lad or two trying to gain her attention and breaking her heart along the way. To cheer her up, her ma knew all the right words to say at the right time. Effie swallowed back the tears; she really needed her ma right now.
“Me ma died when I was young,” Effie confessed.
“Me deepest apologies.” Maggie stroked Effie’s hair.
“’Twas a sad day for all of us. She was beautiful, graceful, and headstrong.” Effie smiled sadly. “I remember a time when I came home filthy dirty from doing me chores. I was so mad at her for making me help the stable hand clean stalls. I stomped up to me room to find me ma waiting for me. She was sad. Me da had betrayed her but she wouldn’t say what had happened.”
Maggie fell silent, allowing Effie to reminisce.
“Have ye ever been betrayed before...by someone ye loved?” It was difficult for Effie to comprehend that the man who she thought she knew and loved had deceived her.
“Effie, sometimes ’tis not the person who has betrayed, but the situation they are in that could verra well be misleading.”
Effie paused for a moment. Aye, the events that had taken place over the last few days left many questions unanswered. Still having a difficult time believing that Laird Douglas would order such drastic measures in attacking an allied clan, Effie needed to know exactly what had occurred. In addition her heart still wasn’t ready to accept the fact that Conall was a murderer.
After settling her queasy stomach, she sat up in bed. “Maggie, do ye know much about the attack on the north tower?”
Maggie sat up. “Nay, I was visiting me ma when it happened. Tavish held
a gathering after the attack stating that Clan Douglas was behind the attack and Sir Henry and his garrison came to our aid.”
Confused, Effie sat at the edge of the bed slipping on her shoes. “Why would the English come to our aid, knowing my father supports King Robert?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I dinnae know.”
Something was terribly amiss here. She needed to find Neil, for he would tell her the truth and frankly he was the only one she trusted. “Please excuse me, Maggie. I must leave.”
“Aye, I must be getting back to work meself.” Maggie smiled.
With a quick splash of water to her face, Effie patted her face dry and began to leave the bedchamber, then she turned to Maggie and said, “Thank ye for being me friend.”
Maggie grinned shyly.
~~~~~
Before Effie knew where she was going her feet had led her straight to her father’s solar where he had conducted business. To her surprise the door was left unlocked. Opening it so she could peek in, she realized no one was around.
She went inside. Her father’s huge wooden desk still stood there, just like she remembered. When she was a wee child, sitting on her father’s lap watching as he was buried in clan business was the highlight of her day. Charters for land needed to be signed, tax figures needed reviewing, and disputes needed to be settled. Not to mention the farmers’ complaints of unhealthy oxen not being able to plow properly.
But even after a long day’s work as a clan’s chief, Sir Herbert always made time for her. Some of her favorite time spent with her father was when he was teaching her how to read and write. As Effie looked around the solar, she saw a tall bookcase which lined one of the walls, stacked with books of all kinds. As she passed the case, the sun shined in through a small window and reflected off her father’s sword. Moving toward the glare, Effie admired the sword and oak leather-covered Highland targe hung honorably above the hearth. Aye, her father was a great warrior of Scotland and their clan. Now that he was gone, who would take his place, she pondered. Who could possibly lead Clan Maxwell as proudly and honorably as her father had done?
