“My sister? My sister is of no concern to ye or James.”
“But I heard ye talking to a man outside.” She motioned to the tent entrance. “She was to be returned to ye. Is she in some kind of trouble? It is why I'm here… aye? He’s holding yer sister against ye?”
“Abigale, she’s—”
“What?”
Marcus said between clenched teeth, “She’s dead.”
Abigale took a step back. “Nay, did that man—”
“Murder her, aye. James caused her death and he will pay for it.” Every word he spoke dripped with hate.
“Ye can no’ mean it.”
“Aye, Abigale.” He held her stare. “Eye for an eye.” He turned and left the tent.
* * *
Alice raced through the great hall. James had returned and barely had the time to brace himself before Alice rushed him. “My laird,” Alice panted. She could barely speak. “Lady Abigale…I’ve searched everywhere.”
Overwhelming terror shot through him. He sensed something was wrong the moment he walked into the great hall. Normally he could feel Abigale even if she wasn’t in the room; his dragon knew his mate. He grabbed Alice’s shoulders in order to calm her down. "Lass, take a deep breath. Where is Lady Abigale?”
“I…I do no’ know.” Alice started to sob.
“What do ye mean? She was here this morn.”
“She never returned from playing with the girls. The eldest mentioned a scary man in the woods.”
“In the woods?” Bloody hell, she had promised him she would not leave the castle walls. “Are ye sure?"
“Aye.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“I’m no’ sure, my laird”
James fought back the urge to shake the answers out of her. “Alice, think. I need to know how long.”
At the same time, Conall and Effie entered the great hall. Realizing the commotion, they instantly hurried over to James. “James, what’s happened?” Conall said.
James released Alice. Effie quickly caught her as she collapsed into her arms.
“Conall, find Rory. Abigale is missing,” James ordered.
“Aye.” Conall was gone as quickly as he arrived.
“Effie, stay here in case Abigale shows up.”
“Aye,” Effie confirmed.
With haste, James stormed up the stairs and toward their bedchamber. Although he knew better than to believe in false hope, he still held on to it as he entered their room. The door slammed open. “Abigale!”
Nothing. No sign of his wife anywhere.
James sat down on the bed, resting his head in his hands. Doubt began to fill his mind; she couldn’t be gone. What if she had left of her own free will? Was she having second thoughts about being married to a dragon? That alone was enough to make a lass run. Nay, she wasn’t a runner. They would have talked about it; that he knew for sure. Alice mentioned a scary man in the woods. Panic pricked him like a thistle. Someone had taken his woman.
James stood and something shiny and gray sticking out from under the bed caught his eye. Squinting to focus, he bent down and picked it up. It was an arrowhead. He turned it over and studied the arrow; his blood stained it. The arrowhead was the same one Abigale had removed from his chest. As he looked closer it became clear. It was made out of flint. "God’s blood,” James cried out. Marcus. He was the only one who made his arrowheads from this kind of flint. Marcus had tried to kill him!
Anger like he’d never felt before pulsed through him, and his dragon stirred impatiently, waiting to be released. James squeezed the arrowhead until blood trickled down his hand. There was a traitor lurking around clan Douglas. James cursed and threw the arrow at the stone wall with such force that it became embedded deep within the stone. "I will take the bastard’s head.”
James stormed out of the room in search of Rory. If anyone could find Abigale, Rory was the one. Out of all the Guardians, his tracking ability was superior. However, James prayed that he wasn’t too late.
22
Unless a serpent devours a serpent, it will not become a dragon. ~ Chinese Proverb
Perched on his war horse on top of the cliff, James viewed the valley below. The highland winds blew and rattled the nearby trees that concealed their presence. Conall was mounted on his steed next to James. “If anyone can find Lady Abigale, ‘tis Rory.”
“Aye.” James sat motionless.
Rory had led them right to Marcus, but the campsite was unnervingly quiet. James sent Rory to find Abigale, just in case the enemy had moved her to a different location. Even though James could sense she was near, he wanted to make sure before they attacked.
James finally noticed movement at a smaller cliff and nodded in that direction. “At least two hundred archers over there.”
Conall concurred. “Aye.”
“Och lads, two hundred men and four dragons seem like a disadvantage. Should we play nice?” Magnus asked.
“Magnus, if yer lady was held captive, would ye play nice?” James bit back.
“Nay, I’d gut them where they stood.”
A rustle nearby turned their bantering to silence as they drew their swords and waited for an attack.
Rory looked like he had just seen the Devil himself. Three swords stared at him with their pointy ends promising to slash his throat. “God’s blood, ye almost made me shite myself!”
James sheathed his sword. “Well?”
“Lady Abigale is there. See that red tent by the tree line?” Rory pointed. “The princess is in there. Alive."
Relieved at the good news, James exhaled. “And Marcus?”
“Aye, he’s there. I can feel the bastard.” Rory’s eyes narrowed in disgust.
Once James had informed his men about Marcus and how he’d betrayed the clan, the Dragonkine warriors were shocked and confused. Marcus was one of only a few humans the warriors allowed in their inner circle, primarily because he was James’s cousin. Dragon he was not, but he fought on the battlefields as if he were one of them. Marcus was considered one of their own, so his betrayal was a bitter brew to swallow.
“Rory, Magnus, stay here and watch those men.” James pointed to the small cliff where the archers were posted. “Conall, come with me."
* * *
Marcus and his five guards walked through the camp. After the news of Sheriff Rickert’s sudden passing, the men who held true to the late sheriff became unruly. Marcus needed to put an end to it. Either you were with him or against him; there was no in between. They did not really need Rickert’s table scraps of an army. Five unhuman savages could take down an army twice the size without batting an eyelash. Aye, the Creepers came in handy.
With each footstep, Marcus could feel every lash upon his skin from the sheriff’s beatings begin to tingle and rage bubbled in his veins. “Are the archers positioned?”
The knight bowed his head to confirm.
“Very well.” Marcus turned to the five. “Remember the lady is to remain unharmed.”
The leader of the group nodded and drew his sword. No words were spoken; there was only action as the men swung their swords into Sherriff Rickert’s ground troops. The men had no time to fight back. Blood sprayed as throats were slit limbs dangled as swords crashed through bodies, and their screams rang out in the night.
Marcus grinned when he heard the blood-curdling screams. He looked around the looming cliffs and sniffed the air. It wouldn’t be long now. The dragon would come for his woman and he would be waiting for him.
* * *
Surprised that they had not been confronted yet, James and Conall approached the camp with extreme caution. They scanned the perimeter but saw no movement. No soldiers or horses—nothing. They stayed alert and continued deeper into the camp. “Something is no’ right here," James whispered to Conall.
“Aye, do ye smell it?” Conall crinkled up his nose at the foul stench.
“Aye.” James knew the stench of death all too well.
They came t
o a halt, for the sight before them stole their breath. Lifeless bodies littered the ground, and tattered material from the tents blew into the night breeze like ribbons rippling through the air. Fear of what might have become of Abigale drove James forward. He had to find her, but by the looks of things, it seemed unlikely she would have survived the attack.
“There’s more here than death, James. It’s some kind of magic. I can feel it.” Conall bent down and placed his hands on the ground.
A tingling sensation pricked up his spine as his dragon stirred. No doubt he felt it and so did his dragon. “Creepers,” James snarled.
“Aye, Death Dragons.” Conall stood and wiped his hands on his plaid. “But the question is, why are they here?”
“Dinnae know, but it can no’ be good. I can feel it, it’s like a pulse of energy running through my blood. I’ve never felt anything like it." Sweat started to slide down James’s face. This feeling left him unnerved.
“I feel it, too, my friend.”
Every dragon instinct told James to shift, but if there was a chance Abigale was there, James didn’t want to scare her.
One tent stood out from the others; it was still intact. James prayed Abigale was in there unharmed and safe. Realization hit him hard in the chest; no one escaped the wrath of the Creepers.
As James approached the tent he saw a head staked outside the entrance. As he got closer, he recognized the head. It was the filth who had taken Castle Douglas from him years ago. The filth that James had battled hard against to regain possession. The filth he set on fire and watched burn, so he’d thought. “Rickert,” James hissed.
“Looks like he pissed off the wrong person,” Conall jested.
James kicked the stake over and entered the tent.
James was not prepared for what he saw. His beautiful Abigale sat hugging her knees inside of an iron-barred birdcage. Abigale looked up and his heart sunk to his stomach. Quickly, she stood.
He pushed his hands through the bars and cupped Abigale’s face. “Are ye hurt, love?”
Tears slid down her cheeks and landed on his hands.
“I’ll get ye out of there.” James kissed her hard. He couldn’t believe she was alive. When he broke the kiss, he noticed that her cheek was swollen and there was a cut on her bottom lip. Rubbing his thumb over her lip, he said, “Who hit ye?”
“James, ye must leave now while ye still can,” Abigale pleaded. “It’s a trap. Marcus, he’s going to kill ye.”
“Did he do this to ye?”
“Please, James, ye must leave.”
“Och lass, do ye have no faith in yer husband? I am a dragon, in case ye have forgot.”
Abigale didn’t take kindly to his jest. “Not even the Black Douglas can survive those…those armored creatures. James, please leave. Save yerself. Marcus won't hurt me, but he will kill ye.”
“Abigale, Marcus was the one who tried to kill me. Ye can no trust him for his words are lies.”
Conall stood guard just outside the entrance of the tent when the stench of death became stronger and the air surrounding them turned cold.
Conall peeked inside the tent. “Ye mind hurrying things up a bit?”
With ease, James pried the iron bars apart just enough for Abigale to step out of the cage. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and whispered in her ear, “I thought I lost ye, lass.”
Abigale held tight around his neck. “I’m no’ that easy to get rid of.”
In no time, flaming arrows flew in all directions, piercing the tent and barely missing the three of them. There was no time to hesitate. If they were going to make it out alive, James had to shift. His massive dragon body could shield her from the arrows until she was somewhere safe, but she would have to see him shift. He couldn’t do it. He feared she would never be able to look at him in the same light again. The beast inside would be what she remembered, not the man.
James’s eyes glowed. “Conall, get Abigale out of here.”
Conall knew exactly what was going on; James was about to shift. “Let me shift. Two Dragons are better than one.”
“Nay! Get. Her. Out. Of. Here. Now!” James growled the last word.
Enlarged blue eyes stared back at him. Shite, she had seen his talons. “Now, Conall!”
His second in command grabbed Abigale’s hand and took off toward the forest, dodging arrows on the way.
The look on Abigale’s face told James he had made the right decision. No way was she ready to see him shift. If he had any say-so about it, she would never see him in dragon form. His dragon was pure evil and menacing. To make things more complicated, he barely had control of it. A young dragon was unpredictable.
Flesh began to peel away, leaving black shimmering scales; his bones began to crack. His spine popped vertebra by vertebra as his human body extended into a massive black dragon with twin horns on top of his head. Leathery black wings unfolded where shoulder blades used to be. In one fluid motion, a wing swept the area, sending the tent flying into the sky.
Like a rainstorm, red flames flew through the blackness of the night and showered down, pelting James like hail. Arrows struck James in every direction. An earth-rattling roar echoed through the campsite, shaking the tree branches. Wide wings shielded his body from the arrows. Hopefully Conall could get Abigale to safety; after all he didn’t know how long he could distract the archers. He would take as many arrows as necessary in order to keep Abigale alive.
The assault stopped abruptly. Thank the Gods for Magnus and Rory. They had done their job and stopped the archers.
Out of the corner of James’s eye, he saw Marcus crouching down, approaching cautiously with his broadsword drawn, waiting to make his deadly blow. James turned his enormous body toward the bastard and growled low and deep. His nostrils flared.
“Ye found me, cousin. Took ye long enough,” Marcus taunted, wanting James to lose control and make the first mistake. An unpredictable, out of control dragon was a dead one.
Unfolding his wings, James swept the ground, sending blood-drenched dirt into Marcus’s face. Frantically, he wiped his face. But before James could make contact, Marcus heaved his sword above his head and slammed the metal into James’s long neck.
James roared in pain and stumbled back from the deadly blow. Marcus used this to his advantage and quickly approached James, intending to give the final blow. All he had to do was hit the same spot with more force and the beast’s head would be hanging on his wall like a prized trophy.
Marcus advanced but failed to see a long, black tail sweep the ground, knocking him on his arse. James stood over Marcus before he could catch his breath and get to his feet.
One giant paw grabbed the betrayer’s neck, talons pinned him to the ground like a cage. James lowered his head just inches from Marcus’s. Blood from his wound dripped down his neck and splattered on Marcus’s face.
Sinister laughter ripped through Marcus. “Cousin, it really doesn’t matter who dies here tonight as long as it’s a dragon." At that moment, Marcus’s eyes glowed ice blue with reptilian slits.
Even though James was in dragon form, he still had human thoughts inside. Marcus a dragon? Nay, after all these years he would have felt it. Lips peeled back to form a snarl. Not only had Marcus betrayed him; he’d betrayed his Dragonkine brothers. Rage and anger took over reason as he thought of how Marcus had used Abigale and put her in great danger.
“Go ahead, do it, kill me!” Marcus shouted.
* * *
Magnus and Rory quickly shifted back into human form after the last archer met his death by dragon. Magnus stopped and observed his surroundings as he felt a prickle of magic slip up his spine. They were closer now to the camp and the stench of death was faint, but enough to tell Magnus that there was much more to this situation than a rescue.
“Nay,” Magnus grumbled. “I can’t believe I didnae recognize it sooner."
Rory walked up to Magnus, tucking his tunic into his plaid. “Recognize what?”
Ma
gnus bent down and grabbed a handful of dry earth. “Blood shall awaken the spirits. The king will rise again.”
“Magnus, man, ye must stop sputtering in rhymes and riddles. I dinnae understand.”
“Rory, we are on the sacred ground of the ancients. We must hurry. Dragon blood can no’ be spilled on holy ground.”
A shrill whistle from Magnus called out to their horses. Two warhorses came charging to their masters from the forest. Without hesitation, Magnus grabbed his mane, threw his muscled leg over the horse, and took the reins in his hands. His horse was eager to run. “We must make haste. I’ll explain everything soon, but we must stop those fools from killing each other.”
Rory shrugged and quickly mounted his horse.
* * *
James began to crush Marcus’s neck until Magnus and Rory ran toward them. “James, ye can no’ kill him! No’ here,” Magnus yelled. “Ye dinnae understand, if ye kill him, Scotland will be destroyed. We will all die.”
James turned his head to look at Magnus as if he didn’t understand what the daft man was saying.
“Let him go, lad. No blood can be spilled.” Magnus challenged James with glowing green eyes.
The firmness of Magnus’s voice held true; James didn’t want to fight an elder, but Marcus had put his lady in harm’s way. No way was Marcus leaving this place in one piece; he must be punished. One way or the other, a part of the bastard was going to die. He wouldn’t shed his blood here tonight but he could take his dragon, leaving him a mortal. Which he deserved for betraying him.
Without hesitation, James took his free hand and buried it deep into Marcus’s chest. Marcus’s eyes flew wide open, and he tried desperately to squirm away.
It was too late; James retrieved his fist from Marcus’s chest and with it his beating dragon heart. Marcus screamed in defeat.
James released his talons and backed away. No dragon ever enjoyed seeing a Dragonkine’s essence destroyed. Every Dragonkine warrior standing by could feel Marcus’s loss.
Highland Burn: Guardians of Scotland Book 1 Page 16
