The general was onboard my ship, with Samantha.
Rowing harder, I brought us alongside the Adelina, practically throwing myself up the rope ladder and onto the deck. When I didn’t see anyone, I hurried to the captain’s quarters, flinging the doors open without a single care for what could be going on in there. Unfortunately, the space was empty, the lack of Samantha’s presence making my heart beat so hard I could hear the pulse of it.
“Tristan!”
Turning at the sound of Callaghan’s voice, I barely caught sight of the top of his head as he headed below deck, an urgency to his step that made me stop breathing.
Something about this place made me worry extra for Samantha. Maybe it was because she was carrying a child, or the fact I felt so out of sorts by everything, but I didn’t want to leave her alone any longer. She shouldn’t be in the Otherworld for an amount of time. What if the babe was snatched and replaced with a changeling while we were here? Was that possible, while the little one was still in its mother’s womb? Were the very fairies on this ship right now stealing another daughter from me, not caring an ounce for the pain we endured after losing the first?
Before I’d even realized what I was doing, I was below deck, shoving aside hammocks and following Cal to the brig. Samantha’s voice wafted up gently, her tone worried, accompanied by one I’d never heard. It sounded like the air gently brushing through the trees, with a musical quality that somehow soothed me. But, as welcome as the false relief was, it fled from me as soon as I saw Sam.
She was kneeling by the bars of the closest cell, her brow creased with worry as she ripped the hem of her shirt, revealing the slight rounding of her belly. Blood smeared both of her arms and the floor beside her, the sticky gore threaded through her hair and across her pants.
A fae knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder, a worried look on his face. Red covered his flesh, too, the color dark beneath his nails as he took the fabric from her. The liquid spotted his breastplate as well, spattered across the metal in a shocking spray.
Fury boiled inside me and I leapt forward, shoving him away from her. “What have ye done?” I roared, scooping her into my arms and practically flying her to the other side of the space.
“Tristan!” Samantha gaped at me in shock. “What are you doing?”
Touching her arms, I searched for the wound, my fingers passing over every inch of her, frantic to find where she was bleeding from.
“Tristan.” Cal grabbed my shoulder, trying to pull me away, but I refused, pushing him.
“It’s not mine.” Crossly, Sam batted my hands to the side. Staring up at me, she frowned, her eyes tired and worried. “And where have you been? I’ve been waiting over a week for you to come back.”
Confused, I froze. “A week?” The words were like dust in my mouth. “I was gone but two days, lass.”
Frustrated, she made a sound in the back of her throat and pushed past me, going back to the fae. It was then I noticed Thomas Randall cowering on the floor of his cell, moaning as he held his arm to his chest. Blood dripped from between his fingers, his knuckles white from the force with which he grasped his forearm.
“You left nine days ago,” Samantha continued, the annoyance in her tone turning to relief. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming back.”
“Time moves differently here, My Queen,” the fae man said kindly as she sat beside him. “Not only as a whole. The Dark Isles age much slower than Tír na nÓg, but a day there is longer yet than one hour beyond the gates of Avalon. You cannot blame your husband for what he is unable to control.”
Cal nodded, seeming to accept said the reasoning without question.
Raising an eyebrow, I folded my arms, watching as the pair reached through the bars and pulled Randall closer, attempting to pry his injured arm away. “And who are ye?” Well aware I sounded rude beyond measure, I couldn’t be bothered to care in that instant.
The man rose, bowing slightly and putting his palm to his chest. “I am Ailill, Your Majesty. It has been my great honor in assisting your queen while awaiting your return from the Dark Isles.”
Sam snorted, the sound revealing some—if not all—of her annoyance was being directed to the armor clad being beside her and not myself. For whatever reason, that made me relax more than anything.
“Ailill,” I repeated, looking him over. He appeared no different from the armada outside, save the insignia on his armor. “Ye are the commander of the army surrounding us, I suspect?”
Smiling, he bowed again, everything about him positively respectful and honorable. “We have come to assist you in recovering Avalon, Your Majesty.”
The sound of hope Callaghan made caused my heart to drop. Glancing at him, I gave him the most apologetic look I could muster before responding.
“Don’t call me that. I’m no king.”
“Don’t bother,” Sam sighed, abandoning her attempt to bandage Randall’s arm for a beat. “He won’t listen. I’ve begged him for four days to stop calling me his queen and, well, you heard him.”
Ailill smiled, revealing two rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. “With all due respect, Your Graces, I will afford you the position that is yours.”
Sam grabbed Randall’s arm, grunting as she managed to pull it away from him and through the bars. In response, the prisoner hissed, jerking violently in an attempt to get away.
Taking a step back in surprise, I stared at the limb, feeling my stomach threaten to heave. It appeared someone had bitten him, taking a chunk of flesh from his arm, close to his elbow. The wound bled freely and quickly, dripping onto Samantha as she struggled to keep it extended.
In an instant, Ailill knelt down beside her and grabbed a cord on the ground beside them. He tied it snugly, creating a vice to stop the blood flow, ignoring the cries of the man they were trying to help. Then, taking the piece of torn cloth from Sam, he packed the wound while she held it steady, finishing by tying another swatch of fabric around the bite.
“That should hold long enough for him to heal,” Ailill stated calmly. “With his advanced regenerative powers, I suspect it should take no longer than a few days.”
Sam nodded, releasing her hold on the arm and sighing as Randall snatched it back, howling. He rolled on the ground as if he were dying, screaming and shouting, the sound almost too much for me to bear.
Abruptly, he sat up, throwing himself against the bars of the cell, screaming into Sam’s face. “Give it to me!” he roared.
Scurrying away, terror on her features, Sam grabbed Ailill’s hand, allowing him to block her from Randall’s view.
“Give ye what?” I shouted back, striding over and slamming my palm against the barrier.
Randall laughed, the human essence of his stare fading into nothing. Suddenly, he was someone else, his face appearing different than normal, his tone more feminine and commanding. With a start, I realized I was no longer talking to my enemy, but the gods inside him.
“He needs it,” the strange voice hissed. “We all do.”
“Hush!” The command was low and guttural, overran by another presence within him.
“Speak not of these things!”
“He will put an end to us, you fool!”
Out of the midst of the argument, a loud voice boomed. “We are but dust without it, trapped in this form until it finally withers and dies. With our added strength, it may take a millennium before this frail creature succumbs to the greater essence inside him.”
Randall growled again, shaking his head anxiously, an animal-like wail breaking from his lips. Panicked and pained eyes stared at me for a second, Randall’s true face seeming to plead with me before being replaced by another god.
“The Hand.” This voice was more masculine than the last, the eyes that stared at me blood red and hungry. “He promised us The Hand.”
“What hand?” Whispering, I fought the horror I felt at seeing the display. Randall was but a pawn, controlled by these monsters. He hadn’t given them what they w
anted and now he was paying the price in pain.
“The Silver Hand.” Urgency filled this god’s words, a hunger suddenly present in its stare.
“We cannot fill a broken form,” another voice chimed in. “We must be whole to exercise our complete power.”
“We need more blood,” one of the first voices shrieked. “Need it to survive, to grow!”
Crumpling to the floor, he twitched, his body seizing, the bandage he’d just received tearing apart as he convulsed. The episode ended quickly, the body laying still at last, chest heaving.
“Not enough.” The mumble was broken and soft, Randall’s true voice sounding weary as he spoke. “I haven’t given them enough.”
“What happened?” I’d never seen Randall act this way before, even when Sam had cut his hand off. This was pure madness on his part, as if we were looking at a wounded animal instead of a man.
Sam wiped her bloody palms on her pants, shaking her head. “What did it look like? He’s gone stark raving mad.” The air of exhaustion around her was almost contagious as she stood beside the wardrobe in the captain’s quarters.
“He snapped about two days after you left,” she continued, choosing which clothes to change into. “Started screaming and cursing for hours at a time. He wouldn’t stop talking to himself—to them.” She sighed.
“The gods, ye mean?” Frowning, I folded my arms.
Clenching her jaw, she closed her eyes, grimacing slightly. “He begged me to please feed him, but he wouldn’t eat any of the food I brought. After a day or so, he started asking if he could have a little blood. Swore a few drops would be enough. That it would make them stop shouting at him.”
“Where did he expect ye to get such a thing?” I asked.
Giving me a pointed stare, she remained silent. The message was clear enough.
Recoiling, Cal crossed himself, muttering. “He wanted ye to feed him? Yer own blood?”
She rubbed her face, smearing some of the gore across her features. It made me think of the times she’d been part of my battles, wielding a sword and fighting for her life. Guilt flooded me as I realized she was doing much the same here, without the weapons.
“He didn’t try to bite me until the day before Ailill and his men arrived. I’d brought him a new jug of water and he grabbed my shirt, pulling me against the bars. I was able to get away before he managed to do any real damage.” Lifting her arm, she revealed a series of faded scratches.
“My men and I were already en route to assist you, Your Majesty, when we spotted your ship. Upon learning the Queen was on board, we decided to lay in wait for your return, while offering her our assistance.” Ailill sounded like he was announcing a picnic, stationed in the doorway. It was mind-boggling, how he could be so calm about the monster beneath us, how he was so nonchalant about the danger I’d brought into his realm.
“He bit himself,” Cal realized in horror, peering between us. “When he couldn’t get what he wanted from ye, he did whatever was necessary.”
“Yes, that is the unfortunate truth.” Ailill frowned, the first sign of worry crossing his almost angelic features. “It would seem the madness the Queen has worried about is not for show, after all.”
“No,” Samantha agreed, picking a dress and laying it on the bed. “It’s not an act. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Thomas Randall needs our help. The only way he’s ever going to be free from all of this is to kill him.” Turning to me, she folded her arms and blew a stray hair from of her face. Her features softened and she smiled, relief washing over her. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’ve returned, safe. I was so worried, despite everything I was dealing with here. Were you able to get the Red Javelin?”
The look on my face must have told her what she needed to know. Despair washed her features, extinguishing the light in her. “We have no way to kill him, do we?” she asked quietly.
Frowning, I shook my head. “No. We do not.”
“All that matters is the two of you made it out alive.” Sam sat on the bed, dressed in the gown she’d chosen after shooing the other men for a brief moment. The white fabric was a nightgown more than anything else, but she seemed relieved to have it, despite her dislike for the bodice that came with it. The only discomfort she voice about the contraption was that it squished her pregnant belly, despite having the laces loosened. Distracted, she wiped at her face with a damp cloth, cleaning off the remnants of Randall’s gore.
“I’m sorry, Samantha,” Callaghan stated. “If I hadn’t gotten caught in my own feuds, we may have gotten away with the spear.”
“Don’t apologize,” Sam replied. “Your life is worth more than Randall’s death.”
Smiling softly, I couldn’t help the swell of love I felt for her as she voiced my own opinion of the situation.
“Why do you not take your prisoner to Avalon?” Ailill, who remained standing in the doorway instead of entering our room, looked at us with a puzzled expression. “You are the High King, Your Majesty. We would hold this man in our prison without a second thought. Merlin would no doubt come to offer his assistance. Surely, the sword you hold, the Retaliator, would be sufficient enough to end the life of a man you deemed unworthy of living.”
Glancing at the hilt of the weapon still tied to my waist, I disagreed. “Randall is too powerful. I’d hoped the Red Javelin would be enough to end him, with its ability to locate and kill any enemy. This sword, as well as it has served me here, isn’t enough to end him, I’m afraid.”
“It is his essence you worry about?” Ailill shrugged. “Why not bleed him, then? Run him dry and remove the threat he possesses.”
“Ye sure are nonchalant about killing a man ye know nothing about.” Callaghan frowned, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, staring at the fairy. “The Children of Darkness were like that.”
“The King wishes it done.” The creature blinked his golden eyes as if that was enough reason for committing such an act. “Who am I to question the motives of my leader?”
“I’m not yer leader,” I responded gruffly, turning to face him fully. “And who’s to say Randall’s healing abilities wouldn’t stop him from going dry?”
“Take him to your city,” Ailill pressed, urging me onward with his eyes. “Let your people help.”
“I have no people!” I hadn’t intended to shout, but the sound echoed in the space. “And I will not go to Avalon. Not after what I’ve seen here.” Glancing at Cal, I frowned. “I’m sorry. I cannot do what ye ask of me. Any of ye.” My attention turned to Samantha then, her hand placed delicately on her stomach. “It’s too dangerous.”
She stared at me, her thoughts hidden, and then nodded. “I understand your reservations,” she said quietly. “And I’d be lying if I claimed I didn’t feel the same way on many levels. But, Ailill is telling the truth, Tristan. Whether you want to admit it or not, this place has named you as its leader. You can’t keep denying it.”
Moving to stand beside her, I took her hands in mine, grasping them tightly. “Ye are right in front of me,” I whispered quietly, trying to block the other two from the conversation as I turned my back on them. “Ye come first, always. It is not safe here.”
“For any of us,” she added, squeezing my fingers as well. “If you’re here, then I will be, too.”
“That is why we must leave,” I insisted.
“Are you including Callaghan in that?”
There was no anger or curiosity as she stared at me. As I’d known she’d do, she was reminding me of the other things I’d vowed to do, arguing against leaving.
“You promised to get him home,” she said quietly. “And you can’t do that if you refuse to go to Avalon. If he goes by himself, he will likely not make it. The Black Knights are as ruthless as this place and he has no army to back him. You do.” A bit of fire did enter her gaze then, her mouth curling upward. “The Tristan I know doesn’t leave a man behind, not if he can help it. How many ships did we take together, where you refused
to keep one of your men in danger? The man I fell in love with was always true to his word. I know you’re thrown off guard by everything. I am, too. But who are we, if we don’t remain true to ourselves in the face of change?”
Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead on hers, holding onto her hands tightly. She was right, of course. She always was. Somehow, Samantha possessed the capability of keeping a cool mind in my times of need.
“There is truth in all things,” she whispered, her hold on me tightening slightly. “After everything you’ve accepted so readily, why don’t you see it in this?”
The words pierced me to my very core. I’d told her the same thing many times, as she faced down her own demons and trials. The woman traveled through time, spoke with gods, and wielded mythical weapons. She’d been called upon to do a great many things, things she didn’t know if she believed or could handle, and yet she’d done them.
I had always known she was the hero of her own story. My place in her life was as a support, my duty to protect and honor her, to help her navigate through the course laid before her. It was my choice to let her navigate her own path and to follow her along the way, offering my assistance whenever she needed it.
The tables were turned, I suddenly realized. Samantha was not the one being chosen in this instance. She was not forging ahead, battling her demons and facing her trials with her head held high.
I was.
It was my presence at Lia Fáil that caused the stone to shout with joy. The Lady of the Lake chose to give me her sword. I defeated an entire army of dark fae with mere words. A navy of warriors sat beside me, waiting for me to give them orders. My decisions had brought us to this point. This was my story, my path the gods laid before me.
The more I realized this, the clearer my thoughts became. If Samantha could face her trials bravely and then step to the side and allow me to face mine, the least I could do was take them on.
Exhaling, I stepped away, studying her. “I’ve made such a mess of everything,” I stated quietly. “Putting my position within The Order at risk. Dragging ye and Mark into it. Keeping Randall where he could so easily harm ye. I’m sorry, for all of it, Sam. Nothing has happened the way it was supposed to. I’ve been acting on impulse and fear. I didn’t want to see ye stolen away from me, too, if I could help it. But, I suppose ye are right. What kind of man would I be if I fell to those things that threatened to overtake me? Not the man ye love, surely. Most certainly not the man I desire to be.”
Stolen Away : A Time Travel Romance (The Swept Away Saga Book 4) Page 29
