Dragon Knight's Axe

by Mary Morgan

“Gosh, no. I’m fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m a little weak, that’s all.”

  “MacKay should slow the pace,” hissed Desmond.

  Seeing Alastair striding toward her, she waved him off. “I’m all right.” Moving away from the tree, Fiona put her hands on her hips. “See, ready to get going.”

  Alastair considered tossing her over his back, but with her brother and the Fenian warrior standing guard, he did not think it would be a wise solution.

  “The longer you gape at me, the longer it will take us to reach our destination,” she stated.

  Alastair blinked. “I can assure ye, Fiona, I do not gape.” Moving slightly closer, he added, “I was thinking of throwing ye over my shoulder.” Giving her a wink, he strode back up the hill.

  “Over my dead body, MacKay,” growled Desmond, grabbing his sack and taking Fiona’s elbow.

  Alastair raised his sword to make his message quite clear. “Feel free to name the time, O’Quinlan.”

  Kevan passed by Fiona and Desmond shaking his head. “Ye should not provoke the Dragon Knight. He is on land.”

  Desmond snarled, releasing Fiona. “And your point?”

  “Because this Knight draws his powers from the land. With one swift thought or gesture, he could strangle you with the roots of one tree,” interjected Rory as he passed between the two men.

  “Is he that strong?” Fiona’s tone took on a hushed sound.

  “Aye,” nodded Rory. “The land and animals.”

  Fiona smiled. “Oh my…”

  “And that makes ye happy?” Desmond frowned, shaking his head.

  “I just find it interesting.”

  “He is a dangerous man, not interesting,” snapped Desmond.

  Clasping Rory’s arm and ignoring her brother, she said, “Well, I would like to hear more. And you seem to be a wealth of information.”

  “When you have rested and eaten, we shall continue this conversation. It looks like we have arrived at our humble abode.” Rory stopped a few paces back from where Alastair stood.

  “What a beautiful cottage,” mumbled Fiona. “All made of stone and not wood.”

  They watched as a man and woman emerged from the cottage. Alastair no sooner greeted the woman than a huge dog came bursting forth and lunged at him.

  Fiona gasped.

  Alastair heard her, but paid no heed as the deerhound placed its front paws on his chest. “Ye foul smelly beast.” Rubbing his fur, he was greeted with licks and whining.

  “What have ye been feeding him, Aymer? He has the look of more weight than when I left him in your care.”

  “’Tis not me,” grumbled Aymer. “Ask the wife.”

  “Mary? Not ye?” mocked Alastair, releasing the dog.

  “Whist,” she replied. “The poor wee dog was naught but skin and bones when ye left him with us.”

  Alastair wagged a finger at her, but she batted it away.

  Rory coughed into his hand to signal their presence.

  Turning, Alastair made the introductions, “This is Aymer and Mary MacLean.” He looked to Mary when he asked, “Would it be too much if ye could spare a bed for Fiona?”

  “Sakes, Alastair. I would not have the lass sleeping with the likes of ye and your men, even if one is her brother.” Pushing past him, she tucked an arm around Fiona, leading her inside the cottage.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she shouted out, “Aymer, show the men where they can lay down their packs.”

  Alastair noticed the grin on Fiona’s face as Mary ushered her inside. He shook his head and smiled. “I will need to purchase some horses,” he said turning toward Aymer.

  “Aye, thought ye might,” he replied.

  ****

  “You’ve been baking bread,” smiled Fiona as she draped her cloak on one of the chairs, inhaling the aroma.

  Mary snorted. “Aye, but not enough for hungry men. I will have to prepare more stew.”

  “I could help you.”

  “Ye are a guest and from the looks of ye, I ken ye will not stand much longer.”

  “The sea voyage sapped most of my strength.” Fiona hesitated before adding, “Let’s just say my stomach did not enjoy the constant bobbing up and down.”

  Mary appeared deep in thought, and then she blinked and burst out laughing. Finally dabbing her eyes, she took Fiona’s hand and led her over to a chair. “Ye can chop more vegetables and if one or two happen to make their way into your mouth…”

  She left Fiona and took a cup and jug down from the hearth. After pouring the liquid into it, she propped the cup down in front of her. “’Twill help to revive your spirits. ’Tis the first thing I make Alastair drink when he returns from the sea.”

  Fiona sniffed its contents and took a sip. She could taste a variety of herbs mixed with water. All she needed were a few ice cubes and she would have called it tea. Taking a few more sips, she set the mug down and proceeded to chop some carrots and turnips. To her left set a basket of mushrooms, which sorely needed the dirt removed.

  “How long have you known Alastair?” she asked, shoving a bit of carrot into her mouth.

  Mary moved away from the hearth, tapping a finger against her head in thought. “Hmmm…he came to us many moons ago. He had seen battle, and his face needed tending.” She shook her head sadly. “Aymer’s hands are better at stitching than mine, so he did the best he could. Afterwards, he tarried for many moons before taking to the seas. When he would return, this was the first place he would visit.”

  Fiona kept chopping the vegetables eager to find out more. Keeping her head down, she asked, “Do you know how he was wounded?”

  “Och, nae. He never did tell, and we feared it was no concern of ours. We welcomed him into our home. Weel, him and that beast,” she chuckled softly.

  Putting down her knife, Fiona took another sip from her mug. Already feeling much better and more curious, she decided to continue with her questioning. “And what about his brothers?”

  “Brothers? Not a whisper of them. And yes, we ken what they are. It was clear when we saw the markings on his back.”

  Fiona’s head snapped up. “Excuse me? Markings?” She leaned closer. “What do you mean?”

  “The mark of the dragon,” replied Mary.

  “Oh my…”

  Mary wiped her hands on her smock and took a seat next to Fiona. “Lass, have ye just met the man?”

  The heat crept into her face, and Fiona continued to keep her head bent. “Well…ummm, no. Actually, yes…it’s complicated.” Drawing in a huge breath and releasing it, she looked up. “I understand he comes from a family of Dragon Knights, and I was curious to find out more considering we will be traveling together to the Great Glen.”

  “I am no longer that man,” said a low voice at the entrance of the door.

  Damn, damn, damn! The man moved as silently as a cat.

  Alastair moved aside, letting the deerhound stumble inside. Instantly, the animal trotted over to Fiona and put its head in her lap.

  She avoided looking at Alastair, for she could only envision the look on his face. A scowl for certain.

  “What a handsome fellow you are,” smiled Fiona as she scratched his ears. Leaning closer, she let out a bark of laughter and lifted her head to meet Alastair’s stare. “You named him, Merlin?”

  Instantly regretting the words that slipped out of her mouth, Fiona watched in horror as Alastair’s face went pale.

  “How did ye ken?”

  Swallowing, Fiona just shrugged. Busted again.

  Desmond came up behind Alastair and did the unthinkable. “The dog probably told her his name.”

  Alastair swore softly under his breath and took a few stumbling steps back before making a hasty retreat out of the cottage.

  Mary giggled and removed herself back to the hearth mumbling about a fine pair.

  Fiona glared at Desmond before turning her attention back to Merlin. She continued to stroke his fur, whispering, “Yes, I understand he can be a pa
in in the arse most days.”

  Merlin let out a bark.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “The song of the forest is the song of the Faery.”

  Sweet, blissful sounds, thought Fiona stretching her arms out above her head. Casting her gaze out to her surroundings, she let the morning song of birds and animals fill her soul. After sleeping like the dead the past few nights, she awoke this morning before the first ray of dawn extended its light over the land, and slipped out of the cottage for some fresh air.

  If she never went on board a ship again, she would be incredibly happy. However, the thought of not ever seeing Niall or Brian filled her with sadness.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, she wandered aimlessly through the trees, Merlin following quietly. He had become her faithful companion much to Alastair’s dismay. The dog actually groaned when Mary shooed him out of the cottage at night. His pitiful whining had gone on for an hour until Alastair spoke soothing words to Merlin and led him away.

  What astonished Fiona was how different the man behaved around animals—the horses, a lone deer, and his dog. Each greeted in hushed tones and with a gentle hand. The man was a layer of complex personalities. One moment a beast, the next, he would be compassionate and offering assistance.

  With each step Fiona took, she pondered what trait she would witness next. She shook her head and smiled, recalling how he had purposely provoked an outburst from her brother when Alastair lifted her onto her horse yesterday, and then kept his hand far too long on her thigh. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to smack his hand away. And all the time he’d kept his mouth shut, not a word, not even a mention about her ability to speak with animals. Why did the man have to be so stubborn? She wanted desperately to talk to him.

  “Foolish idea, Fiona,” she mumbled.

  Merlin let out a sharp bark, snapping her out of her thoughts and sauntered in front of her. He then proceeded to block her path by sitting down. Seeing Rory leaning against a tree, she spoke to the dog. “Rory’s just a friend. He won’t bite.”

  “Aye, but I might,” replied Rory. He turned to look at the animal.

  Speaking in a language Fiona didn’t recognize Merlin immediately jumped up and ran over toward Rory. “Och, you are a fine protector.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him he may advance toward me.”

  Fiona put her hands on her hips. “So the Fae are now Gods?”

  Rory responded with an arched brow. “Do not mock the Fae.”

  “Oh, I would not dream of doing so. Although, it’s still up for interpretation when it comes to you.”

  Rory stepped away from the tree, standing in front of her. “I make no apologies, or excuses for what I have done, Fiona. It is what I am.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “If it was the other way around, I’m positive you would think the same.”

  “That’s a human response.”

  “And yours is a Fae. We will agree to disagree, right?”

  Rory let out a sigh. “Aye, for now.” He glanced back up at the sky, and Fiona sensed there was more.

  “What’s wrong, Rory?”

  He gave her a fleeting look before stepping back. “I will not be going any further with you on your journey. I have been ordered to withdraw from Scotland.”

  Fiona’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Excuse me? Ordered?” Before she could utter another syllable, Alastair and Desmond came forth.

  “There ye are, Fiona. We are ready to depart. Have ye broken your fast?” asked Desmond.

  Her mind swimming with Rory’s revelation, she nodded her head in affirmative.

  Alastair stood back within the trees and gave a sharp whistle for Merlin. The dog let out a bark and trotted over to him. Giving him a quick pat, he turned to leave.

  “Rory won’t be coming with us,” Fiona blurted out.

  Slowly, Alastair turned back around with a smirk on his face. “’Tis always the same, is it not, Fae warrior? Ye make a pledge to help and along the way ye suddenly have to leave.”

  Fiona whipped her head to the side to look at Rory. “I’m totally confused.”

  “Explain, MacGregor.” Desmond’s voice took on a chilly tone.

  “I have been ordered back. I am not allowed to continue on this journey,” said Rory, placing his hands behind his back.

  “By the Gods, why?” demanded Desmond.

  “The Fae Gods and Goddesses are a jumble of contradictions,” snorted Alastair. “Just ask the druid who travels with us.”

  “Tread carefully, Dragon Knight,” uttered Rory.

  “I have nothing to fear from ye and your kind. Ye have done your worst.” Alastair stepped closer, and Fiona saw Rory’s eyes flash in anger.

  “Enough!” snapped Desmond. “If he cannot travel with us, we will manage without him.” Grasping Fiona’s arm, he started to pull her away.

  “Wait!” Yanking her arm free from her brother’s grasp, she walked over to Rory. Peering up into his eyes, she noticed concern in their depths. “Will I ever see you again?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Wrapping her arms around him, she felt him stiffen at her sudden embrace. “Thank you, for everything. For watching over me and for the many stories you shared these past few weeks. I wish you well, Rory MacGregor.”

  Bending low so only she could hear, he whispered, “Safe journey, Fiona. The Fae will always be with you.”

  She released her hold and stood back.

  Rory started to make his way through the trees, but he turned suddenly to face Alastair. “This journey you take with Fiona is yours as well. Do not be foolish and think this does not include you. Take the path of the Dragon Knight, so you may join your brothers.”

  Confusion marred Alastair’s face. “Brothers?”

  Rory smiled fully. “Aye. Duncan and Stephen have walked the path of redemption. It would be wise if you joined them.”

  “Bloody hell!” roared Alastair, lunging for the Fae warrior. But he was too late. In a flash, Rory MacGregor vanished through the veil.

  Alastair stumbled and crashed into a pine tree. Cursing and shoving his fist into the air, he stood upright.

  Fiona and Desmond remained standing in shocked silence as they watched Alastair storm away.

  “Well, that was fascinating,” muttered Fiona.

  “Aye, most definitely.”

  ****

  By the time Alastair stumbled down the hill, he was visibly shaking. Part of it was his anger at the Fenian warrior. They were known to toss out scraps of information that made no sense. What could he have meant when he stated his brothers had walked the path of redemption? Duncan? Impossible. It was his sword that killed Margaret. And Stephen? But what about Angus? Why not his older brother?

  None of it made sense.

  He paused and slumped down on a fallen log. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he wanted to rip out the warrior’s throat. “Riddles, always speaking in bloody riddles.”

  Duncan and Stephen could rot for all he cared. How could they betray their sister, Margaret? Instantly, he saw her face on that fateful night. She had reached out to defend him. Him! A warrior sworn to shield and protect.

  Her cries would forever haunt him.

  Clenching his jaw so hard he feared his teeth would break, he stood. If there was one thing Alastair realized, this path of redemption was one he would not venture upon. Now more than ever, he was determined to get rid of the last remaining link to his heritage as a Dragon Knight—forever.

  He had to destroy his axe in the waters near Urquhart. Once his mission was completed, he would return his traveling companions to Ireland. And his life as he liked it could begin again.

  Hearing footsteps behind him, he glanced back seeing the looks Fiona and her brother wore. Wary. Good, his beast thought. Let them fear him on this journey.

  “I will go gather my items,” smiled Fiona, as she passed by him.

  “Make it quick. We hav
e wasted far too much time already,” snapped Alastair continuing on his way to the horses.

  She stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you always hot and cold?”

  He ignored her question, for he did not fully comprehend what she was asking. Mounting his horse, he whistled for Merlin. The dog wandered out from the trees. Turning around, Alastair noticed she continued to stare at him.

  “Well? No pithy comeback?” she asked.

  “I will await ye and the others on the path. If ye are not there shortly, I will continue onward…without ye.”

  Fiona laughed. “That would be foolish, since I have your axe.”

  Alastair arched a brow. “Nae, Fiona, ye are the foolish one to think I would take this journey, entrusting ye with my axe.” He patted the axe on the back of his horse, indicating its new place.

  “Why you…how dare you! You could have just asked. I would have likely given you the damn thing.”

  “There was no need to ask for what was already mine. Now go gather the rest of your belongings.” Alastair watched as those blue eyes blazed with anger. He could almost hear the words before they spouted from her mouth.

  “You’re a bastard, Alastair MacKay,” she mumbled, turning around and marching away from him.

  He listened to her continued rants as she left his sight. Shaking his head, Alastair seriously contemplated leaving the rest of them behind. He did not need any of them. It would be so easy to accomplish the task on his own and return to the ship.

  Yet, it was not that simple.

  Not when a certain lass gazed at him and saw not only the man, but also the beast within.

  Giving a nudge to his horse, Alastair slowly rode through the trees.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “No need to give the damsel a sword. She will slay you with her tongue.”

  “Does it always rain here?” asked Desmond, ducking past a heavy branch.

  Alastair chuckled quietly to himself, reveling in the man’s discomfort after three days of foul weather. “Och, aye. Wait until we start to climb. The winds will take on a biting chill.”

  Desmond swore as he continued to trudge onward.

  In truth, Alastair sensed the storm would soon abate, but he would not give the man any comfort by revealing this information. Especially after the way he would growl, or step in front of him whenever he came near Fiona. She had approached him one evening, and Desmond flew to her side, hand on sword. Did he think he would ravish her in front of her brother and the druid? Was he not allowed to speak with the lass?