Daughter of Darkness & Light

by Shannon Drake

  She was speaking earnestly to the group around the table.

  “You need to understand, going after Brogan is something you must do. When I was hiding during the attack on the village, I heard his men speaking. They intend to kill everyone. Cleanse the island of the old inhabitants. If he does not take the fortress, he will head back to the coast and wait for more men, more weapons of war. But while he does that...he will send his men out. They will find every small village, every little enclave. They care not if the people are Briton, Pict, Celts, Angles, or Saxons.”

  “I still say it would be foolish to leave the fortress undefended,” Col murmured.

  “What do you know of his sorceress or sorcerer?” Padraic asked.

  Aileen shook her head. He hair, a long sable brown, moved gently around her face. Her eyes were huge and brown and filled with fear.

  “Nothing, except he travels with a sorcerer of power. I know of Brogan’s plans to kill because his men spoke freely to one another while preparing to savage the village. I wanted to get back and give a warning, but I was cut off with them between me and the village. All I could do was flee, come here, and beg for sanctuary and mercy! I—I had seen what happened when such an enemy attacked before!”

  “There will be sanctuary here as long as I live,” Rowan said quietly. “We shall see what Brogan and his troops do today.” He looked around the table. “We will meet again tonight.”

  “I will get back to the wall,” Col said gravely.

  Rowan nodded. He stood and the others did as well. Gareth saw Kyleigh and smiled.

  “Our enchantress has awakened!” he said.

  She smiled. “If you are speaking about me, I am awake. I still...” She lowered her voice and said softly. “I still don’t know how much of anything I am!”

  “I would have kept your secret forever, you know. But of course, under the circumstances, it was out immediately.”

  “The circumstances created it, I believe,” Kyleigh said, “But I thank you, Sir Gareth!”

  “Indeed! He has honored me. And I will earn the title, I so swear it!”

  “Of course, you will.”

  “Kyleigh!”

  She turned. The girl, Aileen, had come to her. She looked at her anxiously.

  “Aileen. I am grateful to see you are well and here,” Kyleigh said.

  Many of the villagers had been killed in the enemy onslaught on the village; many still nursed serious wounds. She was sorry to know she had not even thought about Aileen; there had been so much fear and pain.

  And for her, action. And in fairness, she did not know Aileen as she did many of the villagers. Aileen had come to them, fleeing from bloodshed on the eastern coast.

  “I am grateful to see you, too!” Aileen told her earnestly. “And I understand you are a sorceress! That you have helped here, that you are truly a weapon against evil!”

  “I would like to be,” Kyleigh said.

  “I am so thankful to have come to your village!” she said. “Your people were so kind. And then, of course, that I found my way here. Lord Rowan is truly a great leader. And this fortress...amazing!”

  “Yes,” Kyleigh agreed.

  “Roman ingenuity,” Gareth said. “I can only imagine how hated the first Romans must have been! But what they left behind...roads, battle tactics, water systems...wonders!”

  Kyleigh could not help but notice the way Aileen followed Rowan with her eyes.

  Rowan was talking seriously with Padraic. But he must have sensed something, too. He looked over and smiled at Aileen.

  She was just a village girl, too, Kyleigh thought.

  She had been of late, at least. The elders had taken her in when she had appeared at the edge of the forest, her tunic covered in her blood. She was thin and desperate and had wandered for nearly a year. Her father had been a knight, as had her husband.

  Both slain when her village was decimated.

  “I must take my leave,” Gareth said. He grinned at Kyleigh. “Knight duties!” he added, and squaring his shoulders, he left her to converse quickly with Rowan and then leave the hall.

  Was he going to stand duty atop the wall?

  What was she to do? They were waiting again, she knew. Waiting and watching what movements Brogan might now make with his catapults destroyed, or at the least, in great need of repair.

  Kyleigh smiled at Aileen and excused herself, thinking she would ask Rowan if there was anything she should be doing.

  Perhaps her best use now would be to see if Mary or Alistair needed help. Her adoptive parents, she believed, would be tending to the wounded. Mary knew how to use the plants and sometimes even just mud to help with wounds. She had such a way with plants; there were those who had claimed her to be a sorceress as she had such talent.

  But she did not head for Rowan.

  Aileen smiled at her and headed that way herself. Kyleigh waited as he turned and gave his attention to the girl.

  Then she headed out of the main tower.

  Again, the courtyard was busy. Men honed weapons; women prepared food. The injured had been brought out to what remained of the afternoon sun, and as she had suspected, she saw Alistair and Mary were busy. The village had not had men or women of title, rather a group of elders who had seen to the upbringing and health of the others.

  Everyone had worked.

  And now...

  Would they ever get back to the village? Most of their modest wood and thatch homes still stood. They had gathered livestock to bring here, but many of their sheep and cows had fled into the forest.

  She stood there, watching, as Padraic came out of the great doors to the main hall.

  “This is something Brogan will never know,” he said quietly.

  “My laird?” she said.

  He smiled. “My title is a loose one, lass. I was not born to any glory. Rather my father and his father before him worked to unite the people of the north, most of whom are Celts, but many who come from a time long before the Romans came and seized the lower section of the island. To me, titles mean little. But I have what Rowan has—that thing that a man like Brogan will never know.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Belief and loyalty,” he said. “This man Brogan...from everything I have heard, he rules through fear. Here, the people love Rowan. He will not ask another man to risk his life when he will not. I have also lived by that rule—a leader does not ask of others what he will not do himself.” He studied her and smiled. “You are the adopted child of Alistair, a farmer, and Mary, his wife. But where did you come from? How long have you practiced the art?”

  “I did not know of any art until the day Brogan attacked our village,” she said.

  “So, you go about blindly?”

  “I do.”

  “Can you read Latin?”

  “Yes. I have studied with Father Peter.”

  “I have a book. Perhaps it will help you.”

  “A book of magic?”

  He nodded gravely. “I believe I have mentioned to you my people embrace God and Christ—most, or many, at least. But they embrace the fact the great God or the gods of the earth and forest work with magic when what is real and solid does not suffice. I believe any god of goodness wants us to win this fight against a man who would slay every man, woman, and child.” He paused. “There is logic in it; men have memories. A child will grow to remember a different world of freedom; they will remember who killed their fathers and mothers—and they will set out to kill in return. But the cruelty within it is something far greater. To mercilessly slay babes in arms...no. I believe your magic is one of goodness, and the great God has or all the gods have given you the gift of magic. I will bring you the book.”

  “How do you have this book?” she asked him.

  “My family,” he said softly. “It belonged to my mother.”

  “She was a sorceress?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. She knew when rain and snow would come; she knew sometimes my father was wel
l when all feared he had been slain in a battle. She could touch a young babe with fever, and that babe would be well.” He hesitated. “But I think there were a number of sorcerers and sorceresses who came before her. I have the book. I will be happy to give it to you. Would you like me to get it for you now?”

  “I...”

  She couldn’t help but notice Gareth was leaving the great hall.

  He had said that he had things to do that a knight had to do.

  “Kyleigh?”

  Padraic was looking at her with a concerned frown.

  She wanted to follow Gareth; she had never wanted to marry him, but she did love him, he was a dear friend.

  She smiled at Padraic. “Yes, thank you. I may be out in the courtyard. I want to see Alistair and Mary and what is happening with my people.”

  “Of course. I will see the book is left in your room.”

  She gave him a smile and strode toward the doors to the great hall.

  Rowan did not notice. Aileen was still speaking earnestly to him.

  The sun was already setting. She did not see Gareth at first. She did see Mary and Alistair, and Taryn was with them as well. A group with bandages was leaned against the far tower wall; Mary went from person to person with water while Alistair was helping a man sharpen his sword, and Taryn was attaching metal spear tips to a pile of wooden bows.

  They did not see her, which was good. Because she did see Gareth then. He was headed to the wall.

  Her sword was in her belt. She hoped she would not be noted drawing it from the belt Rowan had given her while she was out in the courtyard.

  She thought she indeed needed the book Padraic had promised her.

  Trying to stay out of the way and in the shadows of the dying day, she drew the sword. “Let me follow Gareth!” she said.

  She was suddenly behind him; he did not see her.

  Had she made herself invisible?

  Gareth was speaking to Col.

  Col shouted out an order. A rope ladder was thrown down the stone wall.

  And Gareth crawled over the wall to take the ladder to the moat beneath and the countryside beyond.

  He was going to slip into the forest and assess the enemy’s actions.

  Alone!

  She winced. Gareth had done so many times. She reminded herself he was talented, lithe, and quick. If any man needed to go, he was as able—or almost as able—as Padraic or Rowan. Perhaps not. Few people could disappear into their surroundings like the Celts. Maybe they were all born with a touch of the magic they believe existed.

  Rowan had trusted him. Rowan had made him a knight. She trusted him...

  But she was afraid for him. With good reason, she told herself. They had not met an enemy like this before. None of them. Not Padraic.

  Not even Rowan. Of course, every man—and woman—here knew they faced a lethal danger that could not be avoided. If she had done anything to stop him...

  He would have figured out a way to go. She understood. He had to go.

  She just could not let him go alone.

  She followed him down the rope ladder. He was unaware of her presence.

  She let go of the rope to jump into the water at the same time he did. She swam quickly to the embankment and crawled from the moat as he did.

  He stared across the open ground between the fortress and forest.

  Kyleigh hurried after him.

  She wondered how long her invisibility would last.

  Chapter 7

  Rowan walked along the battlements at the top of the wall.

  The first darkness of the night was upon them again.

  They had withstood the one assault, but they needed to be prepared for the next.

  Aileen was right.

  Brogan would keep coming at them. No matter how seriously they had wounded him, he would keep coming at them.

  She had come to him when he had stood alone, begging they head out with their strength and their numbers.

  She was right that the threat remained. But he didn’t believe it was the time to leave the protection of the fortress.

  Padraic walked over to him. “I have told my archers we will not change our vigilance; half will rest while the other half remain at the ready.”

  Rowan nodded. “And so, it is with my men.” He looked out across the vast expanse of the empty field that lay between the fortress and the forest. He looked at Padraic. “What say you? I believe Brogan will come at the fortress again before he abandons his quest.”

  Padraic nodded. “I think it would be foolhardy to lead us out into certain ambush. I understand the fear the young woman feels. She speaks rightly, and we all know this enemy means certain death for all. But I do not believe going after him—even if his war machines are crippled—would be the right move to make. Here, we have something Brogan cannot easily best. Roman architecture that has been maintained through the years. If we were to attack, he now has the forest. He has the cover and the ability for ambush. Every move you have made has proven to be right; a few may slip through a forest with surprise. Many become a mass target easily assaulted.”

  “I do understand her fear. But...” Rowan shook his head. “I understand her pain. Young, alone, parents slain, husband slain. She escaped first to the village and managed to avoid the attack there. While Brogan lives, she will be afraid.”

  “She is indeed young and fragile, but she is with us. A survivor.”

  Rowan grinned. “And you and I, well, we were taught to be survivors.”

  Padraic grinned, leaning on the battlement, looking out at the green expanse before them as well.

  “Why is it we are such warlike creatures? Men, ever determined to kill other men, anxious for what is theirs?” Padraic wondered aloud. He turned to look at Rowan. “The Romans built their wall and we—Celts, Picts, Frisians, all—will never know the truth of it. Did they think our northern lands not worthy of them? Or did they consider us such savages they feared us? We did not look beyond our land. We have fought among ourselves, for such is the way when any man is different from another. My father said a man does not become strong to attack, but to defend—against any. He was a wise man, lost too soon.”

  “I admired him. He was indeed a wise man. I remember him with my father,” Rowan said, “but there were wars before they came. And I do not suppose we can blame the Romans for them all.”

  “No,” Padraic agreed.

  “I often think about the days of King Arthur. I know my father dreamed of such a return. But I wonder what was true sometimes, and what has become legend.”

  “Well, the magic was truth,” Padraic said softly.

  “Then where is Merlin now?” Rowan murmured.

  “Some say he was killed; some say he is encased in crystal in a cave,” Padraic said.

  “He is not alive. If he were, I believe we would see him. He was a man before all else, a man with amazing power. But he loved this land, from the east to the west. He would not see this happen.”

  “I believe you are right,” Padraic agreed. He leaned against the wall again, grinning at Rowan. “But it seems you have the next best thing.”

  Rowan chaffed slightly. It was a strange thing to admire a man, a friend, an ally.

  And somehow despise him, too—for having something he did not.

  His easy, charming way with Kyleigh.

  “Our sorceress? New to the craft? Indeed, she is quite amazing. So amazing I fear for her frequently.”

  “Of course. All are vulnerable. But it is true then? She knew nothing of this until Brogan’s forces attacked her village?”

  Rowan nodded.

  “What do you know of Alistair?”

  “He is a good man. He was a good father to her.”

  “What does he say about her birth?”

  “He knows nothing about her birth. An old man brought Kyleigh to him when she was a baby. The old man said he had heard Alistair and Mary wanted a child and did not have any of their own. He believed they would raise the ba
be to be a kind and good person.”

  “That is all he knows—really?”

  “If he knows something more, I do not believe he has told anyone. Including Kyleigh.”

  “There is just something about her...” Padraic said.

  Rowan remained silent. He looked out again. He understood Aileen’s desperation for him to rid the entire island of a man such as Brogan. But he knew, too, that although they had kept the upper hand so far, Brogan was a skilled and ruthless warrior.

  He would be delighted to see the men from Kenzie come after him—where he would have the advantage.

  There was nothing to do but wait.

  “I will take the watch on the wall, if you would like to get some sleep,” Padraic said.

  Rowan hesitated.

  “Lord of Kenzie, if you do not trust me yet—”

  “Laird Padraic, I trust you. I wonder if I will be able to sleep! But, yes, I leave the wall to you. And come first light again, I will relieve you—and you must sleep.”

  “I look forward to it!” Padraic assured him.

  Rowan nodded and headed toward the wooden stairs down to the courtyard. As he went down, he saw that Magdalena, Col’s wife, was coming up bearing food for many of the them.

  “Lord Rowan!” she greeted him, smiling. “I would kiss you, cousin of my husband, were I not carrying these deep dishes.”

  “Heavy dishes; I should give you a hand—”

  “No, you must not. I am perfectly balanced. Shall I bring you sustenance? It is venison, my lord, taken from out stores.”

  “I am fine, thank you. Haman saw to a meal for me earlier. But thank you for what you are doing for others.”

  “All in this fortress are working, Rowan,” she said earnestly. His cousin’s wife was a bit older than her husband, but a fair woman with soft light hair and green and brown eyes. She had borne Col a pretty, little daughter who was just three years old and remained, through everything, a pleasant woman. Her father had been a knight across the land, from a small holding near the coast.

  He wondered what there was left of her village now, but he kept his silence on the matter.

  “You will keep us all alive,” she whispered, and she shook her head. “Rowan, everyone here is working hard, and watching out for one another. It is like...a miracle.”