When he pinpointed the edge of land below, relief swept through him. Although he’d been born and raised on the Isle of Stone, the ancestral hold of the Highlands pulled at him. Gargoyles had lived there for centuries, embroiled in countless battles between human clans. No matter how they’d intervened to prevent the humans from fighting, humans continued undeterred. Hell-bent on annihilation, they often ended up destroying themselves in the process. No amount of reason could stop a proud, stubborn Highlander.
The gargoyles flew over hills and valleys, barely visible by night. Their acute vision enabled them to discern the sinewy peaks of a mountain range in the distance. They soared by rolling slopes, which softened into gentle planes. A loch rippled with a shimmering gleam, reflecting the celestial bodies above.
Once they passed the body of water, Lachlan pointed to the open expanse of a meadow below. Land here.
What for? Bryce replied.
I want to walk the rest of the way. He wanted to tread the land of his ancestors. Maybe he’d find guidance on the grounds where many gargoyles had sacrificed their lives, caught in battles between clans.
It’s a half a mile up hill.
Lachlan ignored his brother’s protests and landed on the grass with little sound. The varieties of heather surrounded him with their soothing fragrance.
“You’re acting odder than usual,” Gavin pointed out.
“Gathering my thoughts before we show up unannounced.”
Gavin shot him a skeptical glance but didn’t say a word.
Lachlan led them up a hill covered with various types of grass and wild vegetation. Rocks had rolled down the hill, remains of the stone edifice a few hundred feet ahead. They penetrated the greenery and led the way forward to the castle remains where the Calder clan had returned to live. The clan had come full circle. They’d left the Highlands after centuries of battles to find peace on the Isle of Stone. And now they were back to find solitude in the Highlands, southwest of Thurso, near Loch Calder for which they’d taken their name.
The castle had been badly damaged in clan battles, yet the main structure still stood strong and proud. High on the stone walls gargoyles perched as stone. Lachlan would choose the same location, watch for danger while basking under the sun or moon rather than hiding from the world in a dark cavern, the way other gargoyles had chosen to do. His feet became leaden as he led his brothers to the base of the castle. An entrance hidden in the rocks led to the various caverns where many gargoyles rested.
He swallowed the distaste and greeted the gargoyles he recognized guarding the entrance. “We’re here to see my parents.”
“We’ll get them,” the older of the two guards said. “Remain here.”
He disappeared into the darkness of the cave. Lachlan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Calum chit-chatted with the other guard, who was around his age. After minutes passed that stretched like days, their mother and father emerged.
“My boys!” Their mother ran forward, hugging as many as she could in her reach. Since her sons were sizable, she then bear-hugged each one in turn, and then fretted over Calum the way she always did. He was the tallest of them all—and her baby.
His mother’s warm welcome lessened the weight of anxiety tightening the back of his neck into knots. It was like lifting a massive obelisk off his back. Was there anything more comforting than a mother’s unconditional love?
“How good for you to visit,” their father greeted them with a more stoic nod and pat on the back.
When Lachlan asked for a moment with the two of them, their father led them away from the castle and stopped at a cluster of oversize rocks where they had more privacy. Lachlan, Bryce, and their mother followed while the others remained closer to the castle.
“How are things?” their mother asked.
Lachlan ground his teeth, searching for an appropriate response. “Eventful.”
Their father assessed them through a steady gaze. “Your brothers?”
Mason was in love with a tree witch, but that could wait. “No, they’re fine. It’s more of a transition on the isle.”
“What happened?” His mother stepped forward, her voice filled with concern.
His father’s voice was more guarded. “Something with your rock concerts, isn’t it?”
The clan, including his father, was not pleased about the humans treading over the Isle of Stone. They took it as a sign to return to their ancestral homeland in the Highlands while Lachlan and his brothers remained, seeing an opportunity. For the first time, they could play their music as themselves rather than masquerading as humans the way they did touring European cities. Some gargoyles labeled the differences in opinion as a generation gap. Others called Lachlan and his brothers reckless and disrespectful to the ways of their clan.
Yet none of them had ever played on stage, felt the rush from performing. When Lachlan and their brothers picked up instruments in their youth and taught themselves to play, it had opened a new world for them. A creative outlet. A way to express themselves in a way they’d never been able to in the many still hours as they watched from stone.
When Lachlan played bass guitar on stage, he burned with vitality, experiencing a vibrant existence his life had lacked. The need for gargoyles in a world run by technology had changed, and they needed to adapt or they might as well die out like ancient relics. In a way, performing had given him a purpose, just as his new role as alpha had, but in a different way. If he could find a way to continue with both, that was all he’d ever need to live a meaningful life.
“No, Da,” Lachlan answered his father in a measured tone. “There was an incident with the wolf shifters.”
“You battled them?”
“No. Let me explain.” Lachlan summarized what had happened with the wolves attacking the humans with as few details as possible. He rushed to the point where all had agreed to make peace and restore the veil.
His father wasn’t having it and fixated immediately on one of the details Lachlan tried to gloss over. “Mason is living with a tree witch!”
That was why Lachlan didn’t ask Mason to come. The news would overshadow the more pressing matter.
A small grin appeared on his mother’s face, which she erased. The news didn’t disturb her the same way it did his father. She was likely relieved one of her sons had finally settled down with someone, something she’d been pushing them to do for years. Even if it had ended up being with another species.
“Aye, but we have more pressing matters, right now,” Lachlan replied, trying to keep his voice calm despite the sense of urgency. “We need to work with the wolves and witches to restore the veil.”
“Are you telling me my son is living with a tree witch?” his father boomed. “And you’ve agreed to make peace with the witches and the wolves? I knew you boys were reckless, Lachlan, but you’re the eldest. I figured you leading them would give you some sense of responsibility. Not throw yourself in with the witches and wolves!”
Bryce muttered, “But, Da—” but their father cut him off.
“All of you,” he admonished, holding his index finger aloft.
Lachlan addressed his father. “You’re right. And as the new alpha on the Isle of Stone, I’ve done what’s best for our clan. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of Mason with a tree witch, myself. But we’ve discovered how kind Kayla is, not evil like we’ve heard the witches to be. She not only helped the wounded humans after the attack, but gargoyles, too.”
“One of you has finally settled down,” their mother said. “I thought it would be with one of his kind, but what matters is he’s happy.”
Would she be as accepting to a wolf shifter? Wait, why was he thinking such things? All he’d shared with Raina was a kiss. He’d kissed countless lasses, a different one every night if possible. Shaking that thought loose, he assured her. “Mason loves her, and they’re happy together.” He addressed both his parents. “We come to you with a more urgent matter.”
His father gauged
him with a steady gaze. “What is it?”
Lachlan straightened to his full height. This was show time. “I need to learn the magic to restore the veil.”
His father let out a harsh breath. In a low tone muttered just loud enough for Lachlan to hear, he said, “Either work with witches and wolves, or let humans destroy the island. A no win situation.”
“Da, please,” he implored. “We need your help.”
“Lachlan, you and your brothers courted this by playing for the humans. You didn’t listen to me when I warned you about the danger. Now you want our help? You’re off your head!”
Although Lachlan had expected this reaction, the verbal slap made his gut drop. “The humans had already discovered the island. We simply moved our concerts there instead of running around all of Europe and hiding who we are. Why wouldn’t we? Music is our passion. Besides it’s our island, not the humans’. We should be able to run it by our rules.”
“If you feel that way, you should be able to figure a way out of it on your own.”
Bloody hell.
“We left the Isle of Stone for a reason.” His father paced with plodding steps, appearing to pound his frustration into the earth. “Had enough of the damn humans traipsing all over our land. And when we left, we left the problems with the others there, as well.”
“We just need the magic to be able to repair the veil—”
“To work with the tree witches and wolf shifters. Perhaps you don’t remember there’s a reason we divided the island to begin with.” He wagged a massive finger. “A battle in which many gargoyles were killed by those evil witches.” The last word came out with some spittle that landed on a nearby rock.
“Which began from a misunderstanding, we’ve learned.”
“From who?”
“The alpha of the wolf shifters.”
“How in bloody hell would he know anything?”
“He said both the gargoyles and witches tried to recruit the wolves to their side. It wasn’t the witches that triggered the battle between all; it was one witch who cursed the gargoyles, preventing reproduction.”
His father made a clucking noise to show his skepticism. “I’d be careful to believe anything a wolf shifter said.”
“But it all makes sense,” Lachlan persisted. “The battle never should have escalated like it did. Too much reaction. Better communication might have led to less bloodshed.”
Seconds ticked by with a heavy drumming in his head while he awaited his father’s response.
“Enough, Lachlan,” his father spoke crushing words. “Time to return to your clan, come back to your roots.”
Although he loved the Highlands, his home was the Isle of Stone, and he relished their new freedom with him as alpha these past few months, despite the mountain of responsibilities and considerations. He wasn’t ready to give that up yet.
“We’ve started anew again here,” his father said. “A couple of the females are pregnant.”
Reproduction had been a sensitive topic with the gargoyles since the battles. The clan had been pushing Lachlan and his brothers to mate with female gargoyles for many years.
“I’m returning to the Isle of Stone,” he declared, making his intentions clear.
His father pounded his heavy fist on a boulder, one sure to hurt no matter his strength.
“Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn’t,” he said. “You need to go to Duncan to learn magic that powerful.”
Not Duncan. The weight of his father’s words settled with a resounding thud in Lachlan’s gut. He was hoping to avoid seeing the alpha of the gargoyles. Many thought Lachlan proud and stubborn, but he was tame in comparison to Duncan. But what other choice did he have but to follow his father’s suggestion?
“I will.”
A heaviness weighed Lachlan’s steps as he and Bryce returned to the guards where Gavin and Calum had remained.
Anything? Calum asked telepathically.
No. I have to talk to Duncan.
Bugger, Gavin said.
Exactly. Lachlan asked to speak to Duncan and paced the trodden earth while waiting for the guard to return with a response. Would Duncan even talk to him?
When the guard returned, he said, “He was at rest, but agreed to see you. Only you.” He nodded at Lachlan. “Go straight through.” He pointed down a dark passageway lit by candles on wall sconces.
Ice slithered down Lachlan’s spine as he progressed alone through the cold stone cavern. He treaded the soil, his sluggish steps reflecting the overwhelming urge to turn back. He forced himself to power forward. The journey seemed like one that would never end; one he’d never return from.
“What a surprise,” a voice stopped him when he reached a vast cavern.
Duncan stepped into the light of the candles, his age reflected in the wrinkled appearance of his tough gargoyle hide. Duncan spent most of his time in gargoyle form. Gargoyles could shift to three states—human, stone, or gargoyle, which was in between human and stone. Their skin was gray and leathery, which made it more resilient than human skin, but not as inflexible as stone. Their features remained grotesque like the stone forms as well. Lachlan and his brothers spent more time in human form for its flexibility and stone form when at rest, and reserved the gargoyle state for certain situations, such as confrontations.
“I did not expect a visit from you.” Duncan’s voice conveyed the lack of enthusiasm at Lachlan’s arrival.
Lachlan bowed his head in greeting. “We hope you are doing well back in the Highlands.”
Duncan appraised him with a steady gaze. “What brings you here?”
Lachlan summarized the situation on the Isle of Stone, leaving out the part about Mason and Kayla. He’d already faced enough delays with that conversation with his parents. “Will you teach me what I must do?”
Many heartbeats passed in which Lachlan swore he heard each one echo in his chest before Duncan replied with a scrutinizing gaze.
“Part of being a leader means you need to take charge, yourself.”
“I never learned that kind of magic,” Lachlan admitted.
“Perhaps you should have studied it instead of chasing dreams of playing human music.” With a flourishing wave, he added, “And chasing females.”
He knew he’d have to deal with some disdain, but the distaste in his mouth was pungent. What did Duncan know about the world outside the closed one within the clan? At least, Lachlan and his brothers had explored what was out there.
“What’s past is done,” Lachlan replied, forcing a steady voice so as not to reveal his impatience. “We need to adjust to ensure a better future for those of us who chose to remain on the Isle.”
“Then I suggest you become resourceful.” Duncan turned away.
Lachlan’s stomach hollowed at Duncan’s crushing dismissal, but he quickly recovered. Without this magic, Lachlan would fail. If he failed, the humans would return, and they could lose the isle forever. He pictured Raina’s face. He didn’t want to fail her.
Forcing himself to swallow his pride, he addressed Duncan, “I ask for your assistance, Duncan. I know you don’t agree with how my brothers and I have chosen to live our lives, but we share the blood of our clan. Will you help us save our island, the way our ancestors have done in decades past?”
Duncan cast a lazy glance over his shoulder. “We have returned to our ancestral homeland, here in the Highlands. Our clan’s time on the Isle of Stone is over. If you wish to remain there and lead a small clan, you must prove yourself worthy of leadership.” With that final declaration, he returned to the darkness of the cavern.
Lachlan left the enclosed space with a weighted shadow dragging his soul. What in bloody hell was he going to do now? What would he tell his brothers? Raina?
Picturing her disappointment hit him with a blow, as unforgiving as hitting one of the stone walls. If he failed his brothers, they’d have to leave the Isle of Stone. And go where? They’d find a way somehow, but it would not be crawling back here
to his former clan, not after they’d shunned him when he’d come for help.
If he failed Raina—what would she do? Where would she go?
Lachlan trudged over the dark, craggy rocks, returning to where he’d left his parents. His brothers had joined them. Had he and his brothers made a huge mistake in playing as themselves as the Knights of Stone? He’d never thought that way before, but now with their future crumbling before them, he had to face the consequences of their choice. Sure they’d known their time was limited, but they had wanted one chance, at least, to play as their true selves.
When he reached his brothers, he explained, through clenched teeth, how the conversation had unraveled, a bitter taste of Duncan’s refusal still fresh in Lachlan’s mouth.
“So now what?” Bryce asked.
He jutted his jaw out, not yet willing to admit defeat. “We fly back to the island and figure something out.”
After exchanging goodbyes with their parents, they trekked from the castle remains. Spreading his wings in preparation for flight, he’d ascended a mere foot off the earth when his mother’s voice stopped him.
“Boys, wait.” Her voice sounded like she was out of breath from chasing them.
He descended and brought his wings in. “Mum?”
“I have some information that may help you.”
A glimmer of hope flickered in the bleakness of uncertainty, but he stifled it. Nothing had come of his visit so far, except for wounded his pride. “What is it?” he asked with wariness.
“I don’t know exactly how it works, but I know it is a three-part spell with the gargoyles, wolves, and witches.”
Lachlan guessed that already. Otherwise just one of the species could take care of protecting the isle. He kept his mouth shut so she’d continue.
“The witches use magic to keep intruders out. Your brothers are well aware of it on a lesser scale with the barrier protecting their territory.”
Lachlan opened his mouth to mention his recent encounter with it with the humans, but closed it so as not to interrupt her.
Knights of Stone - Lachlan Page 5
