The Chieftain's Daughter

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “No, I was actually trying to hide from the man!” Alainn admitted.

  “ ’Tis a strange place to hide from the man, beneath his very own bed!”

  “Aye, entirely odd!” Alainn agreed and then picked up her skirts and continued up the winding stairwell. She would go to the east solar. The sun was bright there, and the arched window would provide a view of the field below. She needed to know Killian remained safe. The guards would surely not look for her here although she was certain if the chieftain had been alerted to her disappearance they would begin searching the entire castle. If she could remain hidden until the bouts were concluded then she could go to Killian and explain to him...she wasn’t even certain what she could explain to him. If she told him about the demon, he would only worry for her and surely there was nothing he could do to avert the demon, and then he would be at great risk.

  She found a bright spot near the edge of the castle that allowed her a partial view to the field below. The second bout had not yet started and she wondered what the delay was for the chieftain had made it plain the bouts were to be consecutive to ensure he would have a better chance at defeating Killian.

  She turned herself around so she could see the field clearer and she noticed the physician was attending to Killian. Her heart caught in her throat. Killian had won the match, but apparently not gone entirely unscathed. She could barely see them through the crowds, but she noticed the physician attending to a wound above Killian’s left eye. She cursed under her breath and dearly wished she could be there with him to heal him. She prayed the surgeon had used the spring water and the healing ointments she had charmed. How could Killian be expected to fight in two more matches with his vision surely hindered? And why if the match had only been to first blood and Killian had won, was he bleeding also?

  From her vantage point she could see the chieftain as well. He sat upon a raised chair overlooking the challenge. He surely thought himself as regal and important as any king overlooking the bouts. She saw the two guards who had earlier taken her to the dungeon heading toward the chieftain. They spoke to him for a time and then she noticed he appeared displeased. He got up from his perch and went to speak to his captain and to two other guards.

  As the second challenge was about to begin, Alainn saw Killian swinging the heavy dangerous weapon that he would next do battle with. His opponent, a man nearly as tall as Killian and of obvious strength and sturdy condition, the man she’d danced with at the banquet, was doing the same type of preparation when the chieftain walked across the field to speak with Killian. Alainn felt certain Killian was being questioned about her whereabouts.

  “Where is the young healer, nephew?”

  Killian’s face clouded at the sight of his uncle approaching and his questions further enraged him. “Why would you need to know the whereabouts of my wife?”

  “She is to be detained in the dungeon for the duration of the challenges, and she is nowhere to be found.”

  “Alainn was in our bedchamber when I left this morning.” He snarled, choosing not to implicate Rory in any way. “I am not certain where she may be, but I am thankful she has avoided the unpleasantness of being taken off to your dungeon for no good reason!”

  “You know I have a justified reason to keep her imprisoned. She will surely aid you in the bout and I will be at a very unfair position.”

  “Alainn has promised she will not interfere.” Killian insisted as he continued to swing the weapon faster and with more fury. The chieftain jumped out of the way as his nephew purposely swung it closer to him than was safe.

  “And do you truly believe she would allow me to kill you without calling her powers to stack the odds more in your favor?”

  “She has promised me and her word means far more to me than yours at the moment, uncle.”

  The piper stood ready to signal the beginning of the match, but he waited for the chieftain to leave the area and for him to give the nod to begin.

  “If she crosses me again, or attempts to intervene or impede my way in the bout, she will be punished. And you’ll not be taking that punishment for her, for sure you’ll lie dead on the field and then she’ll meet with a noose if she causes me any ill will!”

  The loathing for his once beloved uncle was clearly evident in Killian’s eyes, but he did not respond. He walked to the center of the court and stood near the man who he would rally against in mere moments. He tried to keep his thoughts only on the challenge and not on the dilemma Alainn surely faced at the moment. He prayed she would either call Danhoul to assist her or use her clear thought to keep her safe, and if that was not enough to ensure she remained safe, he hoped her powers would see to it she was not harmed. If the guards could not find her then Killian reasoned she knew what she was doing, and that she was protecting herself and their unborn child.

  Alainn glanced down and saw the chieftain walk away from Killian. Their words had not been clear in her mind, but she’d heard some of the chieftain’s thoughts. She placed her hand against her belly as she often did lately. The child had been quiet this morning. Ever since she’d moved through time, she’d barely felt movement within her. She attempted to nudge him, and was rewarded with a small quickening, but she remained fearful, for the pain had not left her entirely even now while she sat here quietly. Perhaps altering time, by traveling through it, was perilous for the child. She must not attempt that again, therefore she needed to keep safely hidden. But how could she truly attempt to remain hidden when that hideous, dark demon had intentions of taking her powers and her soul. Would Ainna be able to help her again or should she attempt to summon Aine?

  She attempted to push these dilemmas and consistently disturbing thoughts to the back of her mind and she once more thought of her unborn child. As she moved her hand over her belly she noted it was beginning to grow. It was not nearly as flat as it had been only days ago. As she touched the tiny swelling, she felt the folded paper within her pocket. She was curious to read it and retrieved it immediately.

  I write this to you this dismal night, for I have been ordered to leave this castle on the morrow. I am consumed by a pain within my heart, a dark emptiness within my soul that no man should ever know. My darling wife met with grievous injustice and now I have been informed that she no longer lives. I was not even permitted to view the remains of my beloved for I was told she met with a most violent misfortune and has therefore already been laid to rest.

  Your chieftain is elderly and bitter so I might attempt to understand his cruel actions, though I will never forgive his misdeeds.

  Although I have not been raised in the Christian faith, I always believed a man of God would not be driven to such lengths simply because his chieftain demanded it. I was clearly mistaken to think you had morals or conscience simply because you wear a cross.

  You officiated the wedding between my lovely Mara and myself. You know full well our union was lawful and binding. What God has joined, let no man separate! You spoke those words only more than a moon ago. You even were recently made aware she carried our child and yet you declared our marriage annulled, sided with your earl. Though it may have been him who ordered her death, you had a part in it as well.

  You are young and supposedly a pious, important man, but I pity you! You may be loyal to your chieftain, but not to your God. I hope every day of your life you know that you have helped to destroy a love that was strong and pure and right. You married us in the name of your Father. How ironic this is, for you claimed Mara must be evil to possess her unnatural abilities, but it was Mara who insisted upon a Christian wedding, for she was raised in your beliefs and she wanted to be certain it was binding in the eyes of her God.

  The only solace I am able to find in all of this is in the knowledge you will surely one day find yourself within the hell you so aptly describe to your parish. And if there is truly a just God of Christianity, he will see to it! I also rest assured the gods of my faith will never see you at peace!

  I had promised to avenge m
y wife’s death, but your earl threatened the life of my sweet sister, his own son’s wife and mother to his grandsons, so therefore I have no choice but to be gone from here as I have been ordered. I shall leave you and your chieftain to a harshly dealt, just punishment by your God and by mine.

  Teige O’Rorke

  Alainn had reread the letter numerous times. Though her eyes were blurred with tears, and she could no longer make out the words, she held the paper close to her heart and felt consoled even through her father’s grief. This letter was a testament to his great love for her mother. It left no doubt that she was conceived of love. It was also proof he knew she carried their child...he knew about her. And he believed she and her mother were both dead... he could not know they’d lived, that she’d been born. But why would the priest keep such an incriminating letter? Had he truly a hint of conscience hidden somewhere deep within him? Did he keep this paper as a reminder of his part in the injustices that had befallen the young couple he had once united?

  She was pulled from all other thoughts when she heard the pipes below and glanced down at the field. The second bout had begun.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Killian appeared strong and focused. He splayed the weapon with mastery and he dodged and avoided the other man’s morning star with agility and skill. She watched as Killian’s weapon grazed the shoulder of the other man, but it glanced off his armor and he stepped back to allow himself a time to recover from the brunt of the blow. Killian swung once more showing no mercy, which was how he had been trained since he was a young boy. The man stepped backward again and nearly lost his footing. He pulled his weapon through the air and it met with Killian’s shield.

  The men fought on for what seemed like an eternity to Alainn. The clashing of weapon against weapon, and weapon against shield, was nearly continual and she knew they would both be tiring. She could not see Killian’s face for he had his back to her, but she fretted much regarding the cut above his eye. She noticed the other man stagger backward and when Killian swung at him, the man kicked out and though Killian had expected it and jumped back with dexterity, the other man tossed his heavy shield at Killian and sent him falling backward.

  He still maintained hold of both his weapon and shield, and the other man was now without benefit of his own shield. If he went to retrieve it, he would lose the advantage of having Killian down. He began waving the weapon wildly and aimed it straight for Killian’s chest. He moved his shield to stop the blow, and then rolled out of the way of the next one. Killian managed to grab hold of the handle of the other man’s weapon and pulled him down to the ground as well. He’d needed to drop his shield to accomplish it, and now both men were on the ground, both held tight to their weapons, but neither had their shield.

  Killian was the first to jump up to a standing position and Alainn noticed he favored his right leg when he stood. The other man obviously noticed as well, for he came at Killian fiercely and with a heavy backhand blow. Killian caught the blow with his own weapon and both men felt the jar of the weighty weapons meeting. The other clansman must have injured his shoulder for he now seemed unable to lift the weapon to its full extent. He eyed Killian carefully and this time was about to swing it upward from his waist, but Killian must have anticipated that move, for he brought his morning star down hard upon the other man’s weapon with a mighty blow, and it actually split the weapon. Alainn saw the jagged splinters pierce the opponents forearm and heard him cry out in pain. The bout was finished. Killian had won again, for that she was of course grateful, but now he had an injured leg and an abrasion near his eye. And he was surely tired to the point of exhaustion, for the match had been unusually long and fast-paced, especially considering the weight of their weapons.

  Alainn saw Killian’s uncle had already stepped upon the field donned in his armor and waving his sword to proclaim he was ready for the oncoming match.

  Killian glanced up in her direction surely sensing her location and she tried to mentally send him a wish of luck and love. But she feared for him so entirely she wanted to scream at the injustice of him fighting again now, injured, tired, and in a bout to the death. She could see Riley had brought Killian a cup of water and that a servant boy had also handed him a wet cloth to wipe his brow. When he pulled it away from his face, Alainn saw the dark red blood had stained the cloth. His cut was open and his vision would surely be severely impaired.

  Alainn glanced around at the crowds of people and she was startled to see the priest standing in the crowd and even more stunned to see who stood beside him. It was Richard McGilvary. Clearly the priest had allowed him to be released from the dungeon and in his hand she could see he held a weapon. Were they hoping to find her and have McGilvary take her life as he’d wanted to do earlier that morning? She had little time to dwell upon that for the piper had begun his loud announcement of the commencement of the battle.

  Killian held his sword as capably as always. His arms appeared to remain strong though she could nearly feel the ache in his strained muscles. He stood trying to bear most of his weight on his good leg. And he swiped at his eye often. And the chieftain remained standing, waving his sword at the crowd looking pleased and pompous and well-rested. How could he appear so joyous about the prospect of killing his own nephew? Alainn thought she would never truly understand the ways of men if she lived a thousand millenniums.

  She was disturbed to see that the McGilvary man had slowly made his way closer to the edge of the crowd nearest Killian and his uncle. The nod was finally given for the bout to begin and the chieftain came at Killian with a series of brutal and well-aimed blows. Killian managed to deflect each blow and the sound of metal upon metal seemed to go on forever.

  Alainn turned away more times than she could calculate, but each time there was a second’s lull in the banter, she would quickly turn her head back to make certain Killian remained well and whole. Killian managed to nick his uncle’s sword hand, just a tiny cut, but it was first blood. She turned once to see the chieftain’s sword graze Killian’s forearm and she saw the trickle of red that spilled from the cut. The chieftain looked toward the crowd for applause and approval and he was soon rewarded, but when Killian deeply sliced his uncle’s shield hand, the zealous crowd cheered just as loudly.

  Noticing how winded the chieftain had become, Alainn dared to hope Killian might be capable of enduring the remainder of the bout even though his movements, too, had begun to slow. The chieftain looked furiously at his recent injury and he threw a nasty glare at his nephew and started with an intense barrage of hand movements that ended up meeting Killian’s sword or shield each time. But now, Alainn saw how badly Killian was limping and his sleeve was soaked with his blood. When she was growing ever fearful, Killian landed a blow to his uncle’s shoulder just above his armor and he stumbled backward trying to get his bearings again. Killian pursued him, sensing he would need to keep the older man under constant attack or he would surely get the better of Killian.

  The battle would have been over long ago, Alainn reasoned if it had only been to first blood. She felt herself growing tired even watching Killian and looking upon all his many injuries. But he continued on valiantly and determinedly. Surely the chieftain would soon tire. He was of greater years and of heavier set. The swords continued to clash and bang. One blow finally sent Killian’s shield to the ground, too far for him to retrieve it. His uncle came at him with not a hint of mercy on his face.

  Killian now held his broadsword with both hands and this allowed him even greater strength and longer range, but it left him unprotected as well. When he stepped back after a series of heavy blows, Alainn saw his leg buckle and he fell to the ground, hard upon his back. She looked at Killian’s handsome face and saw the blood and the sweat that poured down his forehead. She heard the rumble of thunder in the distance and saw the lightning bolts that zigzagged across the sky. She inhaled deeply trying to calm her powers for she’d promised Killian she would not use her magic in any way to determine the
outcome of the bout.

  A steady rain had begun to fall and she tried to will it to stop for though it would serve as a detriment to the chieftain, it would adversely affect Killian as well. As the rain washed down upon them, Killian looked up at the tower again, as if scolding her for her interference. His uncle had approached him as he lay upon the ground still holding tight to his sword. The older man jabbed at him with the blade and Alainn saw the slash that was so close to her husband’s throat. He used his own sword to knock the other man’s shield from his hands, which seemed to take the man back for he’d clearly though the last injury would keep Killian down.

  He threw himself at his nephew his sword outstretched, but Killian managed to roll out of the way on the muddy ground. His uncle lunged at him just as he was attempting to stand. This time the sword caught in the back of his leg and Killian went down again. Alainn felt the sob in her throat and turned away again. She whispered to Killian in her mind trying to send her thoughts to him.

  “You are not done for, Killian. You are as strong and brave and able as any man who ever lived. You must live to teach your son such talents. You must live to love me for all of our days!”

  She saw him smile. He had heard her words. She knew it! She’d been able to send her thoughts to him. He stood again, though he was not entirely steady, the look of complete determination on his face plainly distracted his uncle. Killian managed to hobble over to his uncle and the two men looked at each other with equal pride and stubbornness on their faces.

  The older man tried not to envision the young boy, his brother’s son who had come to live with them so many years ago—the boy whom he’d thought of as his own son for nearly as long, the boy he’d been so very proud to call his kin. And Killian attempted to forget momentarily this was the man who’d saved him on the battlefield all those years ago, who’d taken him in his arms and consoled him, the man he’d greatly respected and wanted to aspire to since his own father had been taken from him.