The Warrior's Mission: A Celtic Historical Romance (The Warriors of Eriu Book 3)

by Mia Pride

  “I am sorry, Maggie. It has to be this way,” he said, dragging her away from the water and through the brush. “We need a lass of great import to use against Tuathal. Mal wanted his daughter back. I infiltrated Ráth Mór under the guise of finally joining Tuathal’s army, but my mission all along was to get close to Elwynna.”

  Maggie gasped and kicked out again, hitting him square in the shin. He hissed through his teeth but did not dare release his grip on her. She could barely breathe with his hand covering her mouth and half her nose. Her chest heaved with panic. This could not be happening, after a lifetime spent avoiding dangerous men, she had too easily trusted an old familiar face. He had fought for Tuathal, not against. Why would he do this?

  “Och, do you think ‘tis only your future husband who can spy on the enemy camp? I knew Tuathal had spies, I just was not certain who until I arrived,” he grunted, and he struggled to control her. Panic caused her to buck like a wild mare and she made contact more than once, but the man was tall, strong, and obviously trained to manage more pain than she could inflict at the moment.

  Once they were hidden beneath a cluster of towering pine trees, he sat down beside a thick round trunk, pulling her down with him. She sat on his lap and felt herself growing ill. What would he do to her? To think she once believed herself capable of defending against a strong man. She was completely helpless.

  “Your warriors will be leaving soon. By the time they realize I am no longer with them, we will already be on our way to Mal. I know a shortcut that will get us there before Tuathal’s party, and now that I know they plan to attack from the south… well, I am afraid most of the men you love will likely die today. I am sorry for that, Maggie.”

  Tears slid down her cheeks as she struggled even more against him. Nay. This was a nightmare. In the distance, they could hear the pounding of hoofbeats as all the men took off from camp, heading toward Mal. Finally, Eoghann removed his hand from her mouth and she took a deep breath before releasing a shuddering sob.

  “Why?” she cried, knowing that nobody would hear her now. She had been the only one to stay behind at camp. “You fought against Elim! You are friends with my brother! Why would you do this? You lied to me about… everything!”

  “Maggie, sometimes a man must change his allegiances, especially when the man he once fought for, is the man who killed his father. I did not lie to you about anything.”

  “What? I do not understand!” She could hear the panic rising in her voice and her limbs quaked as he stood up quickly and began dragging her through the forest. “Where are you taking me?”

  “I have a horse stowed away. He is tied to a tree over here. We will be at Mal’s camp quite soon. I shall do my best to insure your safety, but I cannot promise anything.”

  Finding the brown-and-white spotted horse well-hidden in the thickness of the trees, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her on top of it before swinging his own leg up. He mounted so swiftly, she never stood a chance at escape. “You took advantage of my brother’s friendship, just so you could try to steal his wife? You are a terrible person, Eoghann!”

  Maggie was past caring if he struck her for shouting back at him or throwing insults. She was in a state of shock and still not certain what was happening. It had all happened so swiftly.

  “I am not a terrible person!” he shouted, kicking the horse and they took off so quickly she squealed and panicked, looking for something to cling to. Eoghann’s strong arm came around to steady her before she fell. “I am a warrior, Maggie, and I am loyal to my family! I watched my father suffer terribly for many moons after being sliced through by the very king he fought for! We left everything we knew behind in Alba so we could fight for our rightful king! And he killed my father!”

  “What? Nay!” she roared while the world whipped past them in a blur, the wind stinging her face. She was not so sure he could hear her words, but she heard his clearly against her ear as they rode in a different direction than the other warriors.

  His voice came more softly than before. “It was chaos. Elim’s men mixed with Tuathal’s. Few men had leather vests with Tuathal’s crest on it. Most of us wore rags or soiled garments. It was hard to know friend from foe. Still, my father fought hard, taking down many men so he could help Tuathal secure his throne. But Tuatha cut my father down. We tried to save him, but he suffered, dying slowly before our eyes. Had we stayed in Alba, he would still be alive! Tuathal never came to visit, though I know he knew what he had done. No apology came. I wanted to believe that it had all been an accident, but I know now that Tuathal intentionally cut down my father, though I cannot understand why. I vowed on the day he died that I would seek revenge for my father’s death.”

  Slowing the horse slightly, Eoghann looked around to make sure they were out of sight of Tuathal’s warriors. “Mal was Elim’s greatest warrior. We knew he was building an army against Tuathal, so I sought him out and joined his ranks, eager to take Tuathal down. When Elwynna left camp and married a warrior at Ráth Mór, Mal was determined to get her back. When I found out that the man she married was my old companion, Àdhamh, I was sent to join Tuathal’s army and learn all I could while attempting to steal Elwynna away.”

  “Why does Mal want his daughter back so badly? She is happy with my people and with my brother! Her father hurt her, used her for his own purposes. He does not love her. You would bring her back to that man, to be abused again? Now you bring me to him instead? Why?” How could she have so wrongly judged his character, after years of caution?

  “Tuathal claims to be a man of honor. We know he will not attack if we have a lass who is under his protection. Our army is not strong enough to fight him. We need time. Gaining Elwynna back would have given us a chance to bargain with Tuathal until we could find his weaknesses. But Elwynna was too well protected. Your over-protective brother does not let her out of his sight while he is home. I could not get to her. When I heard that you were the healer, I knew I could get to you instead. I knew you would trust me once we reunited. Taking you was just as well. Neither Tuathal nor Àdhamh will allow harm to befall you. Once I learned Flynn was the informant, always tracking Mal’s every move as he tried to gain power, I knew stealing you away would give even more encouragement for him to back off Mal.”

  Maggie silently shook her head, listening as Eoghann described their plan in detail. They now had Ráth Mór’s healer at their mercy. She knew she did not mean much to most people, but she meant all to Àdhamh and Flynn. While she knew Tuathal and his warriors would do aught to save her, she also felt like a fool, allowing herself to be used as a pawn and placing all those she loved in danger.

  “Tuathal would never kill an innocent man intentionally, Eoghann. Surely, as a warrior, you understand that accidents happen in battle. How can you put so many people in harm’s way?” She tried to reason with him. He was not insane, she knew this much was true. He was a man driven by revenge, but not madness.

  “That does not bring my father back, does it?” Eoghann growled. “I am fatherless because of Tuathal Techtmar! I will do all I need to, to take him down. And if those men die in the process, ‘tis their own fault for following a power-hungry fool!”

  “Elim was power hungry! Mal is power hungry! All Tuathal ever did was try to save this land and its people, and now you are helping Mal take power! He will ruin Ériu, Eoghann! And most of these men are also fathers! How many children will you leave without a father, just to avenge your own? Tuathal has a wife and two children. Àdhamh will have a child next summer. Alastar has a wee lad. Jeoffrey has two wee lads. Freyne also has two, Eoin has two! I could go on—”

  “Do not! You bore me with details. You believe I do not know this already? This is war! I shall do what is needed. And right now, what is needed is getting you to Mal. When Tuathal arrives and realizes we have stolen his healer, sister to one of his best warriors and future wife of his best informant, they will scramble to gain the upper hand. Then, we will attack. Mal has plans to weaken
Tuathal’s army with this battle, then seek shelter in Alba as he recruits more warriors. When he arrives on Ériu’s soil once more, he will be ready for the final battle.”

  A chill ran up Maggie’s spine and she sealed her lips from speaking further. She was wrong. Eoghann was mad. Mad with grief? Mad with power? She was not certain, but the man was not to be reasoned with. Her best chances of survival now were to stay silent and think of a plan. She still had her dagger in her boot. She could pull it out and try to attack Eoghann, but she needed him for now. He knew which way the camp was, and she would never find Flynn and the rest of the men without Eoghann.

  Once they were there, she had no choice but to allow him to take her to Mal. She knew he was several times stronger than her. Eoghann had not attempted to harm her, even as she thrashed at him. Mayhap he was not prone to violence toward women. If so, she would need to use that to her advantage.

  Based on his information, Tuathal’s army was taking a longer route to Mal’s camp, circling around to the south for an attack. Normally, this would take Mal’s men by surprise, expecting them to come from the west. But once Eoghann arrived and informed Mal of their plans, everyone she loved would be in grave danger.

  Heart aching and stomach roiling, Maggie struggled to keep her mind clear. She had to stay calm. One thing was for certain: she had spent too many years cowering from the power of men. She would cower no more.

  * * * *

  “Something is not right,” Tuathal growled lowly as he held up a hand to still his warriors. “I feel it in my gut.”

  Arawn pranced nervously beneath Flynn and he shushed soothingly to his faithful horse, hoping to calm him.

  “What is the matter, my king?” Flynn’s uncle Liam urged his horse forward to face Tuathal. Since his daughter had married the king, Liam had become a close confidant and well-respected advisor.

  “I have fought in many wars, more than I care to know. When we reach a camp in a surprise attack, there should be certain sounds in the distance. Men practicing with swords, laughter, shouting, the sounds of their blacksmith… something. ‘Tis much too quiet. They knew we were coming.” He narrowed his eyes and took a frustrated breath.

  “But, that means—”

  Tuathal cut Liam’s words off with a slow nod. “Aye. It means someone in our ranks betrayed us. They could not have known of our arrival otherwise.”

  Flynn looked over at his brother on his left, then to his cousin Eoin on his right. They all shrugged and widened their eyes, wondering who amongst them would dare to betray their king.

  Turning his horse to face his men, Tuathal’s eyes skimmed his group of three score soldiers, some on horseback and some on foot. His large war horse stood a few hands taller than any other, and coupled with his own massive height, he easily looked down at his men with accusation in his eyes, yet he seemed to be searching the group for a particular man.

  “Eoghann. He is missing.”

  Flynn growled. Eoghann had given him a bad feeling from the start. He was a new warrior to Ráth Mór and had fought for Tuathal, so he had no real reason to accuse Eoghann other than a deep sense of something sinister he felt emanating from the man. Yet, he had not said a word, suspecting the ripple in his usually honed instincts was due to his jealousy over the man’s relationship with Maggie.

  Àdhamh looked around and visibly paled as he realized that, indeed, his childhood companion, and the man he had allowed around his family, was not to be found. He cursed under his breath and ruffled his hair anxiously.

  “When was the last time anyone saw Eoghann?” The king roared. The tendons in his thick neck corded and bulged as blood flooded his face. “Who saw him last?”

  “I saw him in our group while we discussed our attack to the south, my king,” Brennain said, and a few men confirmed with nods of their heads or responding with a chorus of “ayes”.

  “So, he knows our battle plan!” Tuathal clenched his fists. “Fall back, men. We have lost the element of surprise. If he arrived before we did, and he most likely did since we took the longer way around to the south, they are awaiting us. I will not risk the lives of my men. We shall come up with another plan.”

  An arrow whizzed through the air, flying just passed Tuathal’s ear and sticking into the ground near his horse’s right front hoof. His horse whinnied and reared its front legs. Tuathal held on tightly, gripping the sides of his panicked horse with his huge thighs.

  Chaos reigned as men shouted and turned around to face their attacker, all prepared to fight to the death to protect their king.

  “I would not fall back if I were you!” a loud shout from high in a tree called down to them. “We have something you may wish to retrieve… or, someone.”

  Everyone went silent at the archer’s words. Flynn’s stomach clenched. Who did they have? Perhaps they had found a way to get Elwynna after all. Flynn shifted his gaze to Àdhamh and saw the man go pale. Clearly, he was thinking the same thing.

  Freyne, Flynn’s cousin by marriage and one of Ráth Mór’s most skilled archers, nocked an arrow in his bow and aimed, ready to release on his king’s command.

  “Hold,” Tuathal said, eyeing the archer in the tree. “What do you speak of?” he addressed the man.

  A rustling of leaves made the men shift their gazes to a thick cluster of trees behind them. Flynn knew Mal’s camp was just over the hill in that direction. Tuathal’s army was much too far away for Mal’s camp to have been prepared for the attack, unless they had been previously informed. Tuathal’s army had approached quietly from the south, but it was obvious Mal had been planting a trap.

  A tall man stepped forward, holding a lass with blonde hair in his grasp, his arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding a dagger to her throat. Though her features were concealed beneath the large hood of her cloak, Flynn’s heart dropped into his stomach when he recognized the bright blue fabric lined with fur.

  “Maggie!” Àdhamh shouted, and rushed forward before Tuathal put out a hand to stay him. Nothing was going to stay Flynn.

  Propelling off Arawn’s back, Flynn rushed toward the man holding Maggie at knifepoint. He knew he could not get to Maggie and he also knew he must be careful to prevent her neck from being sliced, but that gleaming dagger stood between him and all that mattered most in his world.

  “Stay back, Flynn!” Maggie shouted, clear panic in her voice, though he still could not see her features. She must be incredibly frightened. He blamed himself. In his quest to teach her to face her fears, she had decided to join them on this dangerous mission. Now, she was held captive by the enemy.

  “Cut my sister and I vow I will split you from throat to bollocks!” Àdhamh shouted from behind Tuathal, straining to get closer.

  The tall blond-haired man sniggered at Àdhamh’s threat. He knew nobody would harm him while he held Maggie at his blade’s point.

  “Restrain Àdhamh and Flynn!” Tuathal shouted, and without hesitation, five warriors rushed over to pull them back, preventing their anger and fear from causing further harm. Though his desperate need to save Maggie caused him to thrash in rebellion, Flynn understood his king’s need to manage the situation and trusted Tuathal to handle it with proper care. Àdhamh did not seem to be as level-headed, and curses flew while he kicked several warriors in the shin. One man punched him in the gut hard enough to drop him to his knees. Àdhamh fell, but his curses continued to fly.

  “What does Mal want?” Tuathal shouted to the man in a clear, commanding voice.

  “Fall back. Return to Ráth Mór, collect his daughter, and bring her back to him. Only then will you get your prized healer back. I doubt she will be in the same condition she is in now… but she will be alive.”

  Flynn clenched his fists repeatedly and locked his jaw so hard, his teeth ached. Panic rose but he fought it down, knowing well that panic would not help him in the moment. Àdhamh was panicking enough for the both of them, and Flynn felt guilt and pity wash over him. The two women Àdhamh loved most were be
ing used as bait in a war brought on by a petty, unstable man.

  Staring hard at Maggie, he hoped she was watching him, hoped she could see the determination and promise in his eyes. He would save her. He would never leave this camp until she was safely in his arms. Her face was obscured by darkness and her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her cloak.

  “I will save you,” he mouthed to her. A very slight movement that looked like a nod moved beneath the hood of her cloak. She could not dare move much, risking a slit to the throat, but he was certain then that she had understood his silent promise.

  “Nay! They cannot have my sister nor my wife! Tuathal! Do not allow this!”

  “Carry Àdhamh away!” Tuathal groaned, running a hand through his hair. Flynn knew his king was trying to think of a plan, and Àdhamh’s frantic pleas were only distracting him.

  “Tell Eoghann I will kill him! I will hunt him down and gut him like a boar!” Àdhamh shouted as he thrashed and kicked, being dragged back by several warriors until he disappeared from sight.

  Flynn’s mind was reeling with possible strategic plans to get Maggie back safely, but it was hard to think past his fury and the increasing need to vomit. The man holding Maggie shook her hard and she squealed when her hood slipped off her head. Terror shone in her eyes and the blade at her neck gleamed in the light of the high-noon sun. They must be surrounded. They already knew at least one archer was in the tree above them. One wrong step and any of them could be dead. Why they did not kill Tuathal on sight, Flynn could not understand. Mal must truly have wanted his daughter back before the battle began, and would not risk losing his opportunity.

  According to Elwynna, her father never showed her love. She was there merely for the purpose of keeping the army pleased with her body, though unwillingly. Why was the man so desperate to have her back? Was it nothing more than a power struggle, wanting her only because she had run away and sought refuge?