Dragon Knight's Axe

by Mary Morgan

  True to his word, he kept them at a steady pace until they arrived in Navan. Only once did they have to switch to another path when they encountered a group of English. Gradually slowing his speed, he gave the signal for Ivar and Thomas’s man, Matthew, to lead the way.

  Ambling along, they took the side road away from the main village. Apparently, the O’Quinlan lived farther back along the river and trees. The closer they approached, the more Alastair’s skin prickled with unease. Instinctively, he placed his hand on his sword. Winding through a large thicket of pine and birch trees, he brought them to a halt. In front of them were various cottages spread out along the hill. Alastair instantly recognized the largest stone structure as most likely belonging to the O’Quinlan.

  Giving a nudge to his horse, they all proceeded down the path. Curious folk stole glances—others stared openly as they passed.

  “There’s the O’Quinlan,” said Gunnar.

  “Aye, and he does not look pleased,” stated Alastair, seeing the man’s arms crossed across his chest looking wary.

  Dismounting from his horse, Alastair walked over to Niall. No sooner did he get within hearing than Niall let out, “Greetings, MacKay. What brings ye to Navan?”

  “O’Quinlan. I bring ye one of your kin, though she claims she has none. ’Tis best we speak inside.”

  Before Niall could acknowledge him, he dropped his hands and stepped past Alastair.

  Fiona, with help from Gunnar, dismounted from her horse, and brushed a lock from her eyes.

  “Sweet Danu,” he whispered. “Can it truly be?” Niall took his fingers to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his eyes.

  Fiona looked at Alastair. “O’Quinlan,” warned Alastair.

  “Fee, ye have returned.” His tone one of shock.

  Fiona eyes darted back to Niall. “My name is not Fee,” she protested.

  “Nae, just my name for ye.”

  “No, not true,” she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief and scrunching her eyes closed.

  He took her hands in his. “Your name is Fiona O’Quinlan, daughter of the great Hugh O’Quinlan and Aine. Ye are also my sister.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “If the air smells of spices, then you are in the land of the Fae.”

  Fiona’s knees buckled. Niall’s words slammed into her heart causing her world to tilt. Impossible, unfathomable, and incomprehensible.

  “I’ve lost my mind,” she said closing her eyes again hoping when she opened them, the past few days would have been one of her nightmares.

  Niall steadied her. “Nae, Fee, ’tis truth.”

  “Let me go,” she gritted out.

  “Open your eyes and hear me. Do ye not have any memory?”

  She shirked out of his embrace. “Go away. You are all just a bad dream.”

  “Fiona O’Quinlan, I see your stubborn streak has not left ye.”

  Peeking open one eye, she paused. Fiona couldn’t deny the similarities in their features. For one, his eyes mirrored hers. And where her curls came to her chin, this man’s fell past his shoulders. Then, there was the nickname he called her. Fee. As if he plucked it out of her dream.

  Shaking her head slowly, she opened the other eye. “How is this possible? I’ve never met you, yet you appear to know me so well. You say you are my brother, but I don’t have any siblings.”

  She glanced over Niall’s shoulder expecting Alastair to intervene. He had the most peculiar look on his face, and he kept staring at Niall. What would they both say if she told them she went to sleep in the twenty-first century and awoke in the past? Wait, what past?

  She averted Alastair’s eyes when she asked Niall, “What is the year?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face, and she had the eerie sensation her brother was hiding something. “Fiona, let us withdraw into my home. We can discuss this further.”

  “She will not be going anywhere until ye explain how her brother left his kin abandoned in Turnley,” stated Alastair, moving to block Fiona from entering his home.

  She looked up at his face, but his wrath was for Niall. Was he concerned for her?

  Niall placed his hands on his hips and glowered at Alastair. “Ye are on my land, MacKay. Ye best remember that while ye make demands.” Turning back to Fiona, he added, “I will answer your questions. In truth, there is much to tell.”

  He waved at one of his men, stepping away from her. Fiona watched for a moment, and then looked at Alastair. “You don’t believe him?”

  Fury flashed in his eyes. “Can ye?”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I thought you wanted to return me to my kin? Now, you’ve changed your mind?”

  “I did not expect your kin to be your brother. The resemblance is there for any to see,” he hissed.

  “Oh Alastair, I don’t know what to believe.” I’m trapped in this time warp. What time warp? Niall never did tell me the year. “What is the year?”

  Alastair gawked at her. Before he could say anything Gunnar approached wanting to have a word with him. She watched as he rubbed a hand across his face as if agitated, and then walked away.

  Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she wanted to scream at the both of them. “Will someone please tell me what year this is? It can’t be that difficult. I know you may think I’m daft—so if you could simply answer the question, I might be able to understand all of this.”

  Breathing heavily, she looked around. All activity had ceased and now focused on her. The only sound came from the horses. A bird swooped past her, and she craved to take flight as well.

  “The year is twelve hundred and six, Fiona,” replied a deep male voice. One she recognized well.

  Fiona whirled around. Her mouth gaped open in shock. Pointing a finger at him, she blurted out, “You?” Anger could not even describe her current emotion. There were too many others mixed in with it. Never in all of her life did she want to punch someone. Anyone.

  Her fists clenched and unclenched.

  Taking rapid steps, Fiona marched over to the one person she never thought to see again. The one person she had trusted implicitly. The one person whose last words lulled her to sleep.

  “Rory MacGregor,” she spat out, as if his name tasted foul. Not giving him time to respond, Fiona slapped him with all her might.

  He barely moved from the assault. Instead, his eyes held concern. “I would expect nothing less from you,” he said softly.

  “Who are you? And why am I here?” she demanded.

  “Step away from him slowly, Fiona,” growled Alastair, his sword unsheathed.

  Rory held up his hands as if surrendering. “I have no quarrels with you Dragon Knight. This is between Fiona and me.”

  Alastair moved so fast Fiona blinked. The tip of his blade leveled at Rory’s throat. “Ye dare to call me that when ye ken I am no longer a knight. Have ye forgotten the curse?”

  “I have not forgotten. Mayhap, you have forgotten the words of the curse.”

  “Jumbled words,” spat Alastair.

  Fiona stomped her foot. “Get out of my way, Alastair. I have unfinished business with this creature.”

  Rory arched a brow in offense. “Creature?”

  “If ye consider Fenian warriors creatures, Fiona, then it is what he is,” snarled Alastair.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at Rory. “I don’t give a damn what you are. You can explain what a Fenian warrior is later. I want to know why one moment I was asleep in the twenty-first century, and the next, I wake up in medieval Ireland.” There she said it. The truth was out for Alastair to hear.

  “All your answers will be explained. It does no good to stand out here for others to hear,” said Rory quietly. His gaze shifted slightly toward Alastair. “If you would remove your sword from my throat, MacKay, you may join us.”

  “If we do not like your account, I will be taking Fiona with me when I leave,” replied Alastair, lowering his sword arm.

  Rory only nodded in agreement.


  Grasping Fiona’s elbow, Alastair ushered her onward to the entrance of Niall’s home. When they reached the door, he hesitated. His eyes roamed her face and she watched—confused. “I ken the MacGregor all too well. Be wary of his words, for there is always a purpose behind them.”

  “Do you understand how confusing this is? This is not my time. Doesn’t it seem strange to you? It is the truth.” She glanced around to make sure no others were listening. “Alastair, my year is 2015.”

  His expression never faltered at her words, and she wished she could have the ability to read minds. Did he think her insane?

  Keeping his voice low, he said, “The warriors who are Fae can travel between the veil of time. Why ye were brought back is a question for the MacGregor to clarify, and one answer I would verra much like to hear.”

  Fae warriors and time travel. Fiona inhaled and exhaled deeply. Somehow, nothing mattered—not the current year, or the fact Rory MacGregor was not quite human. It was then she realized she actually trusted Alastair. Her mind whirled trying to tell her otherwise. Yet, in the end, her soul believed this Dragon Knight would do all in his power to make sure she remained safe.

  Had he not already rescued her from the chains of slavery?

  “I will be on guard,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he said releasing his hold on her elbow.

  Niall greeted her and escorted her into the main hall. “It is not a large keep, but I find it agrees with my family.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “Are you married?”

  “Nae,” interjected a loud male voice. “Who would have him?”

  Niall grimaced. “Hold your tongue, Brian, or I will remove it. Ye ken I will find a wife when it is time.”

  “Ye wound me, my brother,” he said coming forward. Stopping abruptly in front of Fiona, he eyed them both, as all traces of humor vanished instantly from his face. “Sakes, can it truly be?”

  “Yes, Brian,” uttered Niall, placing an arm around Fiona. “Our sister has returned.”

  Brian reached out hesitantly to cup her face. “She has the look of our mother,” he said softly.

  “You are my brother, too? How many are there?” she asked, seeing the similarities in the eyes and mouth.

  “One other. Desmond. I have sent for him,” replied Niall.

  Brian scowled as he peered at her clothing. “Why is she dressed in this fashion, and her hair short like a lad?” His gaze fixed on Alastair standing a few steps away.

  “We have yet to hear her story, or how she came to be with the MacKay,” answered Niall.

  Fiona noticed how Brian’s hand touched briefly on his sword as if in silent warning toward Alastair. Great. Now she had overprotective brothers. “If you don’t mind, I would very much like to hear this explanation.” Looking back over her shoulder, she spotted Rory. “And one from you, too.”

  Niall moved away, waving to one of the men. Turning back to her, he said, “Would ye not like to rest and change into proper clothing? I have sent your maid to your chamber.”

  “Honestly? I don’t think I can wait another moment to find out why…” She swallowed before adding, “I have traveled so far to find my…kin.”

  “Fee,” pleaded Niall. “Will ye not change?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I am tired, hungry, and would love a bath, but I assure you my appetite is much stronger for the truth in all of this.”

  Niall’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Your clothing is a befuddlement to the men.”

  Why did he have to look so dejected? And why did she suddenly feel sorry for him when he resorted to begging? “Oh all right,” she grumbled, and then added, “but don’t start discussing anything until I return. I will not be long.”

  Niall waved over one of the men. “Padrig will take ye to your chamber.”

  Brian tried to hide a laugh behind his fist, sputtering, “Just as stubborn as I remember.”

  “I heard that,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Ask a druid for an answer and he will give you a riddle. Ask a dragon, and she will tell you to discover it on your own.”

  All talk ceased the moment Fiona entered the hall. She moved slowly in their direction, her head held high. Her eyes scanned the area and landed smack on him, and he held her gaze. She was a goddess in a flowing gown of pale green and gold, and he was bewitched. He wanted her to leave and put back on her old clothing. She gave him a slight smile, and he fought the urge to rush forward and claim her hand for a kiss.

  Instead, Alastair’s fist clenched the mug he held, his knuckles turning white. His eyes followed her movement as she made her way to the chair, sitting next to Niall. When she glanced his way, he noticed how her long, dark lashes framed her eyes.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked him, batting her lovely eyes, most likely unaware of the effect she had on him.

  “Nae,” he croaked.

  “Oh,” she said, as her lips formed a slight pout.

  By the Gods, he wanted to drag her across the table and feast on her. Quickly averting his gaze, Alastair drained his mug, and his hand shook when he grabbed the jug to pour some more.

  Two things occurred to him as he drank deeply. He had been on land far too long, and he had not bedded a woman in many moons. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he understood the one woman his body craved was the one he could not have.

  She called out to his lustful beast, nothing more. Furthermore, Fiona was not his type of woman. He liked them tall, buxom, and with fair hair. Taking another hearty swallow of mead, he stole another glance her way. In truth, she was heavily endowed and with a face to entice any hungry man—sorely tempting his appetite.

  Gunnar moved past him and sat down. “Are you going to share the mead, or are your plans to get pissed drunk?”

  Alastair only grunted, passing the jug toward him.

  “It is plain for all to see Fiona is kin to the O’Quinlan,” said Gunnar, filling his mug. “I would like to hear how his sister was lost all those years.”

  “Agreed.” Setting his mug down, Alastair sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “’Tis time ye explained, O’Quinlan,” he stated, raising his voice.

  Fiona had only taken a few bites of food, but nodded in agreement with Alastair. Swallowing, she placed her hands in her lap. “I need to understand all of this.”

  Niall grasped her hand and stood. Seeing Brian entering, he asked, “Are they here?”

  “Aye,” he replied, taking his seat next to Fiona.

  All eyes were on the door when two other men entered. Alastair surmised this was the other brother, with the druid, Kevan, following behind him. Rory stood and greeted the druid like long lost brothers.

  Alastair’s gut clenched, and his instincts told him to flee this place and set out for the coast. He sensed a tremor of warning weave its way throughout his body. Glancing around the room, he knew something was not right. He, a former Dragon Knight, sat with a druid, a Fenian warrior, and a woman who had traveled the veil of time—all screaming to him of Fae magic.

  His mind whirled. If the Fae were involved…

  Bile rose in his throat realizing he was the key that unlocked the secrets, which they were about to hear. He had rescued Fiona. He had brought her back home. What more would they ask of him?

  So deep in thought, he barely registered someone speaking to him. Placing his mug down, Alastair stood. “And ye are?”

  “Desmond. I am in your debt for returning our sister. We never were told her fate and at times, we feared her dead. How did ye come to free her?”

  Suddenly, Alastair’s face went grim. “From slave traders on Dunnyneill.”

  “God’s blood,” hissed Desmond.

  Niall whirled around to face Rory. “How did this happen? Ye were sent to protect her. Is that not what ye told us? I trusted ye when she was no more than a wee lass.”

  “Protect me?” squeaked Fiona. “From what?”

  Rory
held up his hand to halt the barrage of questions now directed at him. “I did protect her by taking her to live with a descendant of your clan. However, you must understand, once she traveled the veil to return, I was unable to assist her.” All of the brothers were now standing, flinging curses at him, and shoving their fists into the air.

  This was getting them nowhere, thought Alastair.

  As if hearing his thoughts, Fiona stood abruptly and silenced them with a wave of her hand. “Enough. Everyone sit down, and Niall”—she turned to him—“please start at the beginning.”

  Alastair hid his smile behind his fist.

  Taking his place, Niall sucked in a huge breath and exhaled slowly. “Fiona, what is your earliest remembrance?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I might have been six years old. A school memory or with my grandmother. Nothing specific.”

  “No others? Are ye sure?”

  Fiona’s brow furrowed. “Yes, Niall, I’m positive.”

  “Fiona, the last time we were together was the day after our village was attacked by enemies. Ye were only five summers.”

  She felt the color drain from her face. “Please tell me those were not real?” she asked, clutching her hands together.

  “What, Fiona?”

  “My nightmares of death and carnage,” she blurted out. Wiping a trembling hand across her forehead, she added, “Fires blazed all around me and this…this monster, he came for me.”

  “It was the night our parents were slain,” said Brian softly.

  She glanced at him. “Our parents?”

  “Aye, Fee,” replied Niall. “They killed them in front of ye. Had I not pulled ye away at the last moment, he would have come for ye. We fled to old oak trees—the ones sacred to the druids, and stayed until morn. Desmond and Brian followed with our uncle. In truth, your nightmares are memories of that horrific night.”

  “But you left me all alone, remember?”

  Niall looked across the table at Rory, glaring at the man. “We sent the warrior to protect ye. He never told us what became of ye. Only that he took ye somewhere safe, and one day ye would return to us to fulfill the prophecy.”