by Mary Morgan
Liam rubbed a hand across his forehead. “You did return, old friend, and I watched you die in your daughter’s arms.”
Reaching for one of the rolls of parchment, he unfurled it slowly and placed two crystals at the top corners. Retrieving a quill, he dipped the end in green ink and sought to banish the past with a legend of the mighty first king of Scotland—Kenneth MacAlpin, King of Dalriada. A strong, fierce, and loyal leader, the Fae judged the man perfect as an alliance between their realm and the human world. Since he was already descended from a Dragon Knight, they sought to have him on the elite board to oversee rules to keep both worlds safe.
A council was convened in the human year of 844 Anno Domini. Those present were four Fenian Warriors, four Dragon Knights, four high chieftains from Ireland, King MacAlpin, and one elder from the Fae council. Laws were suggested, argued over, and then finally written down in the annals of Fae and human laws called the Feahan Treaty.
Liam was one of the Fenian Warriors present, along with Aidan. It was an honor to witness the signing of new laws. Afterward, a great feast was held in honor of the historic event. The king summoned other Dragon Knights from across the seas, and the kingdom rejoiced in an alliance that would forge a stronger world for both peoples. Celebrations continued for a full year.
Yet, the tide of the new religion was sweeping across the land. Wars broke out in the smaller villages against the Fae and their dragons. They sought to rid their land of the demons who were in league with what some called the devil. Words and lies became a plague that journeyed across the sea to Eire.
There were those among the Fae who sought to alter timelines and wipe away memories of their existence with the humans. But the laws were precise, and the Fae King refused to go against what was agreed upon at the council.
Liam’s hand hovered above the parchment. “And I was the first to break one of those laws. I took another through the Veil for his own gainful purpose.” Frustration seethed within him, and he snapped the quill in half.
Rubbing a hand vigorously over his face, Liam tried to squelch the fury at a man long gone. The past was vanished—elusive. There would be no future for him. Today was all he had.
And his impatience grew.
As Liam reached for another quill, he considered it wiser to focus on another year of events. In particular, the great battle with the evil druid, Lachlan. He was one of three who witnessed and participated in wiping the world of a gruesome monster, and Liam was determined to give his account. The council might not want to bother with his knowledge, but someday another Fae warrior would need the record of what transpired.
“Evil always slithers back from the cosmos,” he uttered with disdain.
With slow and meticulous detail, Liam gave a full account of the battle with his fellow Fenian brothers and Dragon Knights—beginning with his time at Aidan’s castle and meeting his daughter, Aileen.
Hours slipped by, and he gave no notice to the food and drink that magically appeared on a nearby smaller table. His duty to preserve a written document consumed him. He wished for no interruptions—save one—his trial.
The last ray of sunlight shimmered off the glass dome and onto his desk. He blinked and raised his head from his work. Another day has ended. After placing the quill back in its holder, he gathered the reams of parchment and neatly rolled them together, securing them with twine.
Standing, he stretched out the muscles in his shoulders and back. He removed his tunic and draped it over his chair. Making his way to the center of room, he then knelt on one knee and waited for the last sliver of light to leave his prison.
When the first shaft of darkness settled around Liam, he stood and prepared for his evening ritual of exercise. The training was an attempt to keep him centered, focused, and to rid the growing anger. When he had used all his strength, he would partake of food and drink.
It did not matter that he had been stripped of his Fenian markings or powers. Even when death claimed Liam MacGregor, he would take his last breath as a warrior.
****
Staring at the eerie night shadows slithering across his room, Liam tried to find some rest. Sleep was not a welcome companion, but a required one. He closed his eyes, longing for a brief respite. As his mind drifted, he sensed the faintest whisper of power within his chamber. The Fae guards would never enter without announcing themselves first, so Liam’s curiosity grew as the power increased.
As he slowly opened his eyes, he cast his gaze outward. He almost chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. Whoever had dared to enter his prison hovered in the far corner, and he waited for them to approach. After several moments, he grew frustrated at the intrusion and shifted his body to a sitting position.
“Is there a reason why you cower in the darkness inside my prison?”
Liam tried to suppress his growing anxiety. Was this to be his executioner? No trial? Only a swift end to his life? Where was the honor?
He stood and flexed his hands. “If you have come to pronounce my judgment, do me the honor of stepping forth from the shadows and allowing me to see your face. It is my right.”
The figure complied and stepped forth. The person was cloaked from head to toe in a hooded garment, concealing almost everything. The only spark of light came from eyes that pierced straight into his soul. A flicker of familiarity wove through him.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
When the person gave no response, he took a hesitant step toward them.
Instantly, a blast of power sent him stumbling backward. Uncertainty filled him as Liam righted himself. He clenched one hand, prepared for whatever was next. “I will not go without a fight. If you are here for justice, then I have the right to face the council and give my account. Either you explain this intrusion, take me to the council, or battle me in combat.”
“I am here to set you free,” replied a soft feminine voice.
Liam’s mouth dropped open in shock. Snapping it close, he folded his arms over his chest. The voice was one he tried to recall, yet, she cloaked the sound. “Why?”
“Must you seek a reason for a gift? Your freedom is not enough?”
He snorted in disgust. “Surely you are aware of my crimes. Death awaits me outside my prison.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Do you long for death’s embrace, Fenian Warrior?”
“No!” he conceded and shifted his stance. “But why are you doing this?”
Silence stretched between them.
“Because I have no wish to see you die,” she whispered.
Liam narrowed his eyes. He tried to recall the voice but failed. “Who are you?”
She angled her head as if listening for something. Tossing a cloak to him, she added, “Time is fleeting. We must go now.” The woman surprised him further by sliding his sword across the floor.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
After giving him a passing glance, she withdrew a slim crystal dagger from her cloak. Waving her hand in an arc, the room shimmered to reveal another realm. Ancient words poured forth from her as the realm continued to expand. She held out a gloved hand to him. “Freedom or death? Which do you seek?”
The temptation to flee was great, but Liam was honor-bound by an oath as a Fenian Warrior. He picked up his sword. “To run is cowardly. I am a warrior, trained by ancient laws and edicts.”
“Do you honestly believe the council will listen to your account?” Her gaze bore into his. “They are determined to keep you inside this prison until they can consider how to terminate your life. You are a fool if you deem otherwise.”
Liam glanced over at his scrolls. All that occurred was written down, yet, he believed he would have been given the right to confront the Fae council. Indecision plagued him. “What about my brother, Rory? I cannot leave him.”
“He is no longer in his Room of Reflection and yes, he lives. Now, may we go?”
“And Conn?”
She laughed nervously, and again Liam tried to recall where he
had heard the voice. “He has been freed.”
“Interesting,” he replied dryly.
“We must hurry, before others sense the shift of power inside your prison.”
He moved slowly toward her. The lure of freedom was a heady one. “You do realize the situation will be dire once we leave the Fae realm. Any possibility of telling me where we are going? I cannot go willingly, if I don’t know the destination.”
She grasped his hand. “Of course. To the year 844, prior to the signing of the Feahan Treaty. We need to rewrite a certain law.”
Before Liam could utter a complaint, a brilliant flash of light blinded him and sent him spiraling through a dark abyss.
Chapter Two
“All good intentions are often times fraught with bad decisions.”
~Chronicles of Liam MacGregor
Shards of pain continued to torment Liam as he leaned against a tree for support. The moment he could see, he was going to throttle the impudent Fae. Whatever power she used to transport them had horrific side effects. She was unskilled when it came to moving through time and distance. He could hear her pacing several feet away, tossing out a litany of curses.
He massaged his temples in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache and calmed his breathing. When he opened his eyes, he cast his sight around them. Frost hovered on each breath he took, and fog shrouded the treetops. A crust of hard ice covered the area as far as he could see. Weakened from his time in the Room of Reflection, Liam blew into his hands and rubbed them together to ward off the chill. It would take time for him to regulate his body temperature to the elements. And even then, they could ill afford to stay out in the harsh weather. “Are we in the Kingdom of Fortriu?” Liam asked as he moved away from the tree.
She shook her head and dropped to the ground. Removing one of her gloves, she placed her palm onto the ice.
Liam fisted his hands on his hips. “Moot Hill at Scone?”
“Silence,” she hissed out.
He ignored her order and crouched down in front of her. By the hounds, he wanted to rip the hood off her face. “You don’t have a clue where we have landed, do you?”
She met his hard stare. “The land will reveal its origins.”
Not only are you untrained, but foolish. “Sorry, but that’s not how it works.” Liam stood and surveyed their surroundings. Yes, they were indeed in Scotland, but he could not determine the year. The land spoke to him, but obviously, this Fae was unable to make a correct calculation. Without his Fenian powers, he was useless to assist. If he were in control of those powers, he would be able to transport to any time and any country with a single thought or wave of his hand to open the portal.
He closed his eyes and lifted his hands upward in search of any possible signs of human life. After several moments, he lowered his arms and let out a curse. They were in a desolate part of the country.
“Take my hand,” she demanded.
Liam glanced over his shoulder and arched a brow. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Your directional compass is skewed.”
“How dare you? In case you have not noticed, we are no longer inside your prison. I would have thought any place you were free would be desirable.”
He gestured outward. “And this is better? Can you at least tell me the year?”
“I cannot gather the knowledge from the land.” She moved past him and placed her palm upon a pine tree.
Rolling his eyes, Liam tried to control the bite of anger in his voice. “The trees will not give you their wisdom.”
“They will to me,” she answered while keeping her back to him.
His curiosity now stoked, Liam stepped near the tree. “Do tell.”
“Thurso? Sweet Goddess, no!”
“Viking territory?” Liam’s hand automatically went to his sword. “And the year?”
After uttering a prayer of thanks, she walked away and lifted her head to the sky. “Unsure. The tree is young.”
“Sweet Mother Danu! You do realize how much the Vikings despised the Gods and Goddesses of the Celts.”
She waved a hand dismissively at him. “They would never dare to strike a Fae. I do not fear them.”
He stood in gaping silence. Was she demented?
“I shall attempt to move us nearer to Castle Dunkelp. Is it not located by Moot Hill near Scone?”
Liam folded his arms across his chest. “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But I understood it to be—”
“No. I am not going anywhere with you. It is obvious to me that you don’t have the skills to properly transport us within the human realm.”
“Might I remind you that without your Fenian powers you are helpless among these people?”
“At least I am fully aware of what I can and cannot do, unlike someone who has never ventured outside her own homeland. I still have control of the elements and other magic.”
“That’s not true,” she argued, and turned her back on him.
Liam moved closer. “When? Where? The last time you ventured outside the realm?”
“I have nothing further to say to you…you stubborn man! After all I’ve risked, this is my thanks?”
Dark fury burst inside Liam. He yanked her by the arm to face him. “I never asked to be rescued! My fate was sealed the moment I took Aidan Kerrigan back through the Veil of Ages. Since that day, I have prepared myself for the inevitable.” He shook her. “But you’re the one who stole into my prison and took my fate from me. Thanks? Not likely. And while we’re having this fascinating debate, I’d like to know the face behind the hood. Only cowards hide while spouting their tirades.”
“You bastard,” she snapped, and Liam could see the indecision within the depths of her lavender eyes.
“I shall save my remarks until after you have removed your hood.” His grip tightened as he prepared for her to fight him.
“Release me,” she demanded.
“Shall I do the honors?” he asked and lifted his other hand.
“Absolutely not!”
Liam released his hold but refused to back away.
Her eyes glittered like shards of steel as she reached up and pulled her hood free. After tossing it to Liam, she tilted her head to the side. “Happy now?”
He was too stunned to move or speak. Never in his existence had he thought to see her again. They moved in different circles within the Fae realm. He was a Fenian Warrior. And she was not supposed to be his savior.
“What? No words of a joyous reunion?”
Liam fought the wave of emotions coursing through his mind and body. She was too near. Her scent of honeysuckle invaded his pores, reminding him of a memory long ago. Quickly slamming the door on the vision, he took a step back.
He dipped his head out of respect. “Princess Abela.”
She tapped her foot in irritation. “Do not address me thusly. I gave up my right to the kingdom when I entered the Temple of Mother Danu as a priestess.”
“What?” his question came out as a garbled word. “Preposterous! Insanity on all levels! What in the Gods’ names are you doing outside the sacred temple?”
Abela glared at him. “Saving your life!”
“Why? It is forbidden to leave the sanctuary. And why would you ever think to enter the temple?”
“Either your memory is failing due to your age, or you did not believe what I told you back inside your prison.” Abela directed her gaze to a lone deer ambling within the thick pines. “I had no wish to see you die. Furthermore, it is an honor to become a priestess of the temple. You had your path and I had mine.”
Liam blew out a frustrated breath. “Regardless, you still are a princess of the Fae realm, priestess to Mother Danu, daughter to King Ansgar and Queen Nuala, as well as sister to Conn. You should not have interfered. Eventually, we all must die.”
A frown marred her features as she returned her attention to him. “You should die with honor after many lifetimes. The Fae council meddles where they should not.”
; “Yes. It is a complaint we have discussed among the Brotherhood, but how does this concern you?”
She flipped her long ebony braids over her shoulder. “There is much you do not comprehend. The Fae realm is changing—expanding. New laws have been initiated into the Fae annals.”
“Change has always been good for the kingdom,” argued Liam.
Her mouth twitched in humor. “I am in agreement with you. Although, there are some who see this shift as a division and fight against the tide of change.”
“What exactly are you not saying?”
“It does not pertain to you, so for now, let us close the door on this conversation.”
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose to temper his anger. He would have thought a hundred years apart would have softened her tongue, but no, she still managed to twist words and take control of every situation. How he’d forgotten the battle to remain civil in front of her.
He lifted his head at the sound of her soft laughter. “Would you care to share your amusement?”
“I can see nothing has changed between us. Whenever you grew weary of our discussions, you would forestall your rage by pinching the bridge of your nose.”
Liam hated that she knew him so well. “Return me to my prison and go home, Abela.”
All traces of humor vanished from her features, and she walked away from him. “Not possible. The abyss that opened for me has now been sealed. I had no wish for anyone to sense the direction we were traveling. Even if I wanted to return, I cannot.”
“Transport us to the Hill of Tara in Ireland. We can seek entrance through the ancient oak,” Liam suggested.
She snickered. “That portal is permanently sealed. There was an…altercation many moons ago.”
“Sweet Brigid! What happened to the kingdom in my absence?”
“A lot.”
Regardless of what happened during his time in seclusion, Liam realized they needed to journey away from the northern end of Scotland. Uncertainty filled his next decision. He held out his hand. “Concentrate on moving toward a fixed location.”
Abela’s eyes widened in excitement. “You will assist me?”
