by Victoria Zak
She found comfort in that as she slipped into bed, she exhaled in relief. The day from hell was finally coming to an end. Tomorrow would be the true test as she hoped her plan would work. In a matter of seconds fatigue claimed her and she fell asleep.
~~~~~
A murmuring voice hummed through Conall’s head as he tried to wake, but his body refused to react to his command. The pain from the gash in his gut pulsed violently. Pulling strength from within, he called for his dragon but was left unanswered. The magic was too thick inside these cell walls, weakening him and trapping his dragon as if he was behind iron bars as well.
“Conall, wake up!” Caden called out, shaking his shoulder. The urgency in his voice rang clear, yet Conall was too weak to react. “Ye need to wake. Now!”
Ice cold water splashed his body and he jerked, awakening and breathing heavily.
“Finally!” Caden threw the cup across the chamber. “Ye dinnae have much time, the guards are coming for ye. There’s been chatter all morn aboot the battle and how ye have to fight today.” The blond warrior squatted in front of Conall, checking under the ripped piece of tunic at the fresh wound on his chest. “This is no’ good.” He shook his blond head. “’Tis no’ healing. I’ve done all I can do.” Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair. After the beating Tavish had inflicted, Caden had spent most of the night tending Conall’s wound. He was in no shape to be fighting today.
Conall slapped his cellmate’s hand away. “I can take care of meself.” With a grunt, Conall painstakingly rose to his feet, stumbling about the small chamber trying to reduce the fatigue and pain that ripped through his aching muscles. The chains had been removed, although he felt like they still drug behind him, heavy and unforgiving. He braced his hand on the cold stone wall for balance as he shook the cobwebs free from his mind. The last thing he remembered was the dirk puncturing his skin and the thought of Effie with Sir Henry, married.
Rage tore through him, whirling like a gust of wind whipping and churning out of control. Billowing gray clouds stormed over his eyes as he fought for his resolve. His dragon stirred, rattling his cage, desperate to shift and foaming at the mouth. He hungered for bloodshed and he would soon quench his appetite. No one came between a Dragonkine and his mate and lived to tell the tale.
Clanging armor echoed down the corridor, stopping in front of his cell, which brought his attention to the guards. Two guards fumbled with the keys as they bantered back and forth about how Tavish had outwitted a dragon. Conall turned his head and flashed his beast’s reptilian eyes, causing both men to step back and swallow hard.
One man called out with a shaky voice, “Step oot where I can see ye and place yer hands in front.”
Confident and in control, Conall stepped in front of the gate, giving them plenty of room to enter his lair if they so dared. With his stance firm, he held his hands together and in front of him as if to surrender to their requests.
One guard opened the gate and the other guard scurried in. With shaking hands, he slapped the metal cuffs, attached to a thick, heavy chain, around Conall’s wrists. The warrior stared down at the puny man, amused by his distress.
Conall stayed as calm as he could manage, for he had to play nice if he was going to get out of the dungeon and find Effie. He desperately needed to escape the magic and heal, so he would go along and be the good prisoner until he could hold his own.
He cleared his throat. “Where are ye taking me?”
The guard, still holding the gate door, too afraid to enter, spoke up. “It be time for battle.”
“Battle? Well, do I have a squire to assist me, aye?”
“Squire?” The guard questioned as if it was an odd request. The rules of battle were clear. Each man involved in the trial by combat was allowed one person to assist him in the fight.
“Aye. I do believe in a trial by combat that the accused and champion receive the right of a squire to assist them in battle. I will have weapons, correct, as I’m sure Sir Henry will have? I need a squire to bring me me weapons.”
The guard snickered. “If ye want a squire, look around.” He pointed to the folks in their cells and chuckled. Half the men were either too sick or weak to pick up a weapon, leaving him with only the broken and untrustworthy folk to choose from. “If ye trust a thief, go right ahead, choose yer squire.”
“Caden, do ye accept to be me squire?” He didn’t know if he could trust his cellmate but he had to take the chance, for if Caden was what he suspected he was, this fight would be over as soon as it started. Being as weak as he was, Conall didn’t have the strength alone to beat Henry, but with Caden there with him he had a better chance. He knew he was taking a risk; Caden could try to escape and leave him behind.
Stepping out of the shadows, Caden cracked his fingers and rolled his neck. “Aye.”
The guard holding the gate spat orders out for the other guard to chain Caden and to make it quick.
The blond warrior stood shoulder to shoulder with Conall and placed his hands in front of him.
Keeping his eyes locked in front of him, Conall said, “Dinnae make me regret me decision.”
Caden grinned but stood silent.
One guard led from the front and the other pushed the prisoners ahead, as the entourage shuffled down the dark corridor to a hidden pathway to the courtyard where Clan Maxwell was gathered awaiting the battle. By the time they reached the end of the pathway, Conall was exhausted and could barely stand.
At the end of the dank passageway there was a cage into which the guards corralled the warriors. As one of the guards pushed Conall forward, he stumbled into Caden and fell to the floor. Quickly Caden helped him up and leaned him up against the cage for balance. How was he going to fight when he could barely stand on his own two feet?
“Ye maggots wait here until the gate opens. Then the fun begins.” The guard chuckled as he slammed the cage door shut behind the prisoners.
Caden stood and looked out to the courtyard through the gaps in the bars. There had to be at least five hundred people, if not more, sitting around waiting for the show. Conall leaned his back against the bars, supporting his weight and catching his breath. Crimson leaked through his tunic and dripped to the dirt floor. How am I going to make it out of here alive? Again he tried to call forth his dragon and was denied. He needed to shift and heal himself but the magic still lingered, immobilizing his dragon.
Just inside the curtain walls of Caerlaverock was a hollowed out archway where a behemoth of a man dressed in a black hooded cloak and hood approached the cage and unlocked their bindings. In a deep gut-wrenching growl the man said, “Yer weapons lie on the table to the right. The squire stays with me until ye need to replace yer weapon. There will be no trickery or ye shall meet me sword.”
Conall shuffled to the table. Disgusted at his choices, he grabbed a wooden targe and a sword. He turned to the edge of the archway, looking across the courtyard to another hollowed out archway which mimicked the one he was standing in, although he imagined the weapons were sharper for Sir Henry.
As he looked up to the second level of the curtain wall, people gathered and pushed their way to find the best view. When he looked closer there was a more pronounced canopied balcony with clan Maxwell’s flag whipping in the wind along with a red-crossed flag indicating clan Maxwell had indeed sided with the English.
His heart sank when a red-haired lass came into view. Effie. She was beautiful in a deep green dress and with her hair freely blowing in the wind. Holding back the desire to run to her, he stood just watching, until a fully armored knight with his helmet tucked under his arm bent down and kissed her.
As he watched Henry deepen his kiss, Conall’s rage took over and his dragon summoned a storm. The wind picked up and blew into a gale. The clouds grayed and rolled in like charging warhorses in the sky. Thunder boomed and rattled the earth as rain threatened to fall.
~~~~~
After last eve’s embarrassing, yet appreciated vomiting episo
de, Sir Henry had never made it back to Effie. It was a relief not to have to worry about consummating the marriage, although how long she could delay the deed was still in question. It wasn’t that Sir Henry was a grotesque man; in fact he was the complete opposite. Especially now as he leaned down to kiss her before he headed down to the courtyard; his eyes were demanding, yet charming and he had a gentle touch. But he could not compare to Conall. Good looks aside, the man had attacked her home.
“Are you feeling better this morn, my Lady?” Henry lifted her chin with his metal-clad hand and examined her face.
“Aye.”
“Good. I still think you should see the healer after the battle.” It was more a demand then a request.
“I will,” she said. Henry gave her a cross stare as if he didn’t believe her. “I promise.”
Henry smiled and kissed her cheek before he made his way to the courtyard.
As she sat underneath the canopy looking down to the courtyard, she began to feel nervous about her plan to free Conall. He was healed now and able to shift, which gave her comfort. The difficult part now would be convincing him to leave without her. Since she was married now, Conall would be safe.
Looking over her right shoulder to the battlements, she took a deep breath of relief. Sir Neil nodded, and was ready for battle with a few hundred Maxwell loyalists beside him.
“It won’t be long now before yer dragon dies,” Tavish seethed into her ear. He sat down next to her, causing the bile to return to her stomach.
“Och, I do think ye be mistaken, Tavish, me dragon will be leaving here today.”
A burst of laughter belted from him. “Ye have no idea who ye’re dealing with, do ye sister?”
Of course she did. She was dealing with a good-for-nothing pain in her arse bastard who she wished had never come into her life. In fact she regretted not standing up for herself all those years ago, and all the missed opportunities to enlighten her father as to what a monster his son had become.
As she turned to face Tavish she realized that this was the man who would ruin everything her father had worked hard to gain. He would run all the good Maxwell warriors away, give into the temptation of greed, and destroy their good family name.
But she had seen a darker side of Tavish that chilled her to the marrow. What he had done to Maggie was unforgiveable. She was innocent and Tavish had taken that away. Plus, knowing he very well could have killed her father left her more fearful for her life, as she knew she was pushing him a little too far with her boldness.
Tavish stood and raised his hands and the crowd settled. Chatter abruptly stopped as if he was a royal king addressing his loyal subjects. This sickened her even more, the way Tavish arrogantly relished the power he held over the Maxwell people. “Good morn to ye fine folk of Dumfries. Justice will be served here, as my father’s murderer will be punished and put to death.”
The crowd roared like savage animals waiting to tear open their prey.
It was a disgrace, Effie thought. These people were so quick to pass judgment upon an innocent man when the true murderer stood before their very eyes. Even though she couldn’t prove it, she knew Tavish had done it. These people weren’t looking for justice; they were looking for revenge, pure and simple.
Effie tuned out the useless chatter as her brother carried on. She had a plan and needed to make sure everything was ready. Over on the east battlements she saw Neil in place and although she couldn’t identify his men, she knew they walked among the crowd at different vantage points with their weapons ready for battle.
After she was satisfied that everything was falling into place she closed her eyes and tried to speak with Conall through mind speak. If he was nearby she should be able to speak to him.
“Conall, can ye hear me?”
Silence.
“Let the battle begin!” Tavish’s voice rang over the crowd and Effie shuddered inside. If this plan didn’t work, she could very well end up dead.
Chapter 16
Center stage and applauded heavily, Sir Henry stood proud and ready for battle. The crowd roared and shouted words of encouragement to him to slay the man who had taken their laird. With his sword drawn and shield raised chest high, he looked like a true knight ready to fight.
The black-cloaked man shoved Conall out of the archway and into the courtyard several feet away from Sir Henry. As weak as he was, he fell to his hands and knees.
The crowd erupted with a serenade of boos and blasphemies while they threw rotten vegetables at him.
Sir Henry lowered his weapon and turned around, addressing the crowd. “Is this the man I’m to battle? A weak coward of a man? I’d thought a Scot better than that.” He pointed to Conall, snickering as the town folk rallied together, cheering the good knight.
With his head lowered, a sour cabbage flew by Conall’s cheek and splattered on the dirt floor next to him. He grabbed his dull weapon and slowly rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders and spitting the dusty air from his throat. “And I dinnae expect much from an Englishman.”
With all his strength he met Henry in the middle of the courtyard, face to face, nostrils flaring. Henry broke the silence first. “Do you intend to fight me with a blade like that?” Conall looked down at his dull short blade and smirked. “I dinnae need a blade.” He threw the lame excuse for a weapon to the ground.
“I must say,” Henry chuckled, “you Scots are more stupid than I realized. With a little work and training, Effie will make me a fine English lady. I’ve had the most enjoyable time getting acquainted with my new wife. I must reassure you though, I’ll take good care of the lass when you’re gone. You will die by my blade.”
Talk was cheap according to Conall; action spoke beyond measure. Conall drew closer to Henry, chest to chest. “Did ye know she’s already married? She’s married to me.” He pushed off of Henry sending him a few stumbling steps back, which only irritated Henry more.
Out of pent-up frustration, Henry charged Conall with his sword, lunging the blade toward his chest. Conall dodged out of striking distance and blocked the knight’s sword, sending Henry running past him. But before Conall could turn to face his opponent, Henry sliced the back of his legs causing him to go down on one knee.
With a cocky swagger, Henry walked behind Conall and grabbed a hand full of hair. He pulled Conall’s head up towards the sky and placed his sword against his neck. “I told you, you pathetic Scottish scum. I will kill you. But first, I’ll give them a good show.”
Conall balled his shaky fist and swung his elbow right into Henry’s gut making him stagger. Again Conall repeated this move until Henry’s grip on his hair released.
Out of the corner of his eye, Conall saw something roll out from the archway. It was hooded in black. As he looked in the carved-out nook he saw his cellmate standing behind a headless man as the black-cloaked figure went limp and fell to the ground. With haste Caden grabbed the man’s sword and slid it to Conall.
He grabbed the sword, which was heavier and sharper than his previous one, and squared off with Henry again. Swords swung and clanged together as they fought to gain the upper hand. As Conall did not have full armor to protect himself, Henry took a cheap shot kneeing him in his manhood.
While he was doubled over and unprotected, Henry brought that same knee up and bashed Conall in the face, sending him flat on his back. Henry seized the moment and swiftly drew his sword, pressing it against Conall’s throat. He swallowed against the cold steel and looked to the crowds, to find Effie terrified and on her feet screaming.
~~~~~
Effie couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw how badly wounded Conall looked as he was thrown to the courtyard ground. What had happened? He had healed; that she was sure of. By the love of saints she prayed he could still shift. He had to shift if he was going to make it out of here alive.
Tavish leaned over to her again and squeezed her arm. “I told ye, whore, ye have no idea who ye’re dealing with.” He sniggered and turned to enjo
y the morn’s entertainment.
Effie sat on the edge of her seat as the men dueled back and forth. Conall was too weak to fight, and it sickened her the way her people were treating an innocent man. She closed her eyes and tried to talk to Conall, but there was no response. The magic had to be blocking her. He just had to shift. This was part of her plan. Without him shifting, Neil was going to have a hard time holding back the English garrison. Yet she knew she had to help him, regardless of the stakes.
As Henry stood hovering over Conall’s body with a sword pointed at his neck, in terror Effie stood and screamed for Conall to shift.
At that time the crowd grew silent. The clouds thickened and the wind blew strong as the sounds of flapping wings sliced through the air. Looking to the skies it was hard to see anything, for the wind stung her eyes. As she turned her attention back to the courtyard, massive winged shadows appeared on the earth circling the courtyard.
Banking a hard right, two dragons flew in and made a landing. Perching high on the west side of the curtain wall battlements with a thud, their gut-wrenching, heart-stopping screeches echoed through the air, bouncing off the sandstone walls, creating havoc like no other.
The townsfolk screamed that it was the devil and ran like death was chasing them. People bounced off one another, trampling the unlucky few that were knocked to the ground.
Effie had seen Conall before in dragon form, but never the others. The black dragon with glowing red under-scales was massive and menacing. The way Abigale had talked to her about the first day she saw James transform, there was no doubt that dragon was James. The other dragon was vibrant green and when it roared, the earth shook violently, sending Sir Henry to the ground and relieving him of his sword.
Hope flooded Effie’s heart as she saw James and Rory fly from the battlements scattering Sir Henry’s garrison with unrelenting dragon fire. Effie looked toward the east battlement and nodded to Neil. It was time she got Conall out of here.
