Lady Fiona's Refuge (Ladies of Ardena Book 3)

by Rachel Skatvold

  He shook his head. “This is where I belong, Milady. I shall never leave your side, so long as you need me.”

  Sibeal offered him a weak smile before her vision faded into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  In Pursuit

  Fiona struggled to calm her daughter after a stressful day of journeying across the rugged mountain terrain. They headed east toward the coast at a rampant pace for most of the day and only stopped to camp by a small stream when the sun set. There were no tents available like during her trip with Leland and his company. Fergus’ men were gruff and clearly not familiar with how to treat a lady. They ate a simple meal of cold gruel, neglected to light a fire so they wouldn’t be tracked, then they sprawled out on the cold ground to sleep. Fiona had packed only one small blanket in her satchel, which she wrapped her daughter in and cuddled her close for warmth.

  “Lee-Lay,” Clare whimpered. “I want Lee-Lay.”

  Fiona held her tighter and kissed her forehead, shushing her gently. “We’ll see him soon. I promise. You must sleep, my darling.”

  She cried for a little while longer, bringing tears to Fiona’s eyes as well. She remembered the desperation in Leland’s eyes as the soldiers surrounded him. He didn’t appear concerned for his own life—only hers and Clare’s. Fiona couldn’t bear the thought of harm coming to him. Had he found a way to fight off the soldiers in the cavern? Had he survived? She could only pray he had.

  Fiona rocked her daughter until she fell asleep and then stared at the stars in the night sky, praying for a miracle.

  Leland traveled on with his remaining company until nightfall when he could no longer see the tracks from Fergus’ men. His faithful companion, Artair, was still missing, but he prayed the dog was busy tracking Fiona and Clare and no harm had come to him.

  As soon as a hint of sunlight appeared the following morning, he and his company ate a hasty breakfast of dried meat before heading off on the trail again. He wished his friend, Niall, was by his side. He was good with the sword and a faithful companion he had come to rely on during his travels in the north. However, he knew Lady Sibeal needed him more. She and her mother had worked together to deceive and plot against him, yet in the end she had sacrificed herself to save him. He prayed Niall had been able to save her. She deserved to start a new, happy life in spite of her past sins against him and the people of Kiely.

  Niall had promised to send more men upon returning to the village, but Leland couldn’t wait for them. He had to stay on the enemy’s trail. If they made it to the coast and set sail to the isles, his chances of rescuing Fiona and Clare would be greatly diminished.

  In the afternoon, he found the place they had camped for the night, along with another piece of Fiona’s red gown. Hope filled his heart. Judging by what he saw, he was a few hours west of them, which meant he was gaining on them. If he kept up a steady pace, he would be able to catch them by nightfall. He could only pray they wouldn’t leave behind lookouts to stop them. Leland knew he had little chance of success trying to attack in the daylight. He only had seven men and the enemy had over a dozen, judging from their tracks. His best chance would be to come upon their camp at night and whisk Fiona and Clare away while the enemy slept. He prayed God would give him the opportunity.

  As the sun sunk lower in the horizon, Fergus’ men stopped to camp on the second night, Fiona surveyed her surroundings. They were leaving the mountain region and nearing the lowlands where there would be less trees for cover. The leader of the group, Lorcan, said they would reach Aoife the following day by nightfall. Her stomach lurched, knowing the city was by the sea and occupied by more of Fergus’ men. There would be a slim chance for escape once they reached it.

  She started gathering fallen pine branches to lay her bedroll on that night to keep a barrier between the cold ground. The weather had taken a dip during the day. She wasn’t looking forward to Autumn’s arrival like she usually did—not without Leland by her side.

  A snapping of a branch in the distance caught her attention. When she turned to look, a hint of gray fur caught her attention. Her heart leapt with joy. Fiona checked her boot to make sure her dagger was still secure. Then she took her daughter’s hand and approached one of the younger soldiers.

  He tried to keep a stern expression, but failed in her presence. “What can I do for you, Milady?”

  Fiona smiled at him in a sweet manner, allowing her natural charm to work to her advantage. “My daughter and I need to wash up before supper. Could we have a moment of privacy?”

  The soldier’s expression turned serious again. “Lorcan would not approve.”

  Fiona sighed. “I implore you, Milord. We shall only be a moment. I have already agreed to marry your king. Have I given you any reason to mistrust me thus far?”

  After a few moments, the guard nodded and stepped aside so they could pass. “Do not be gone too long or I shall have to alert the others.”

  Fiona thanked him and they headed to the small stream close to the camp. She washed her hands and splashed some water on her face to remove the dust from the trail. After helping Clare wash, she turned her head to see if the soldier still had his back turned. Then she headed toward the place she saw the gray fur in the brush. Artair had gone, but upon further inspection, she saw the faint indention of paw prints in the dirt.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” the soldier growled.

  Fiona turned and motioned for her daughter to come closer. “I’m sorry, Milord. We were looking for berry bushes. Clare does not care for the gruel, I’m afraid.”

  He walked a few steps closer and jerked his hand up in a flustered manner. “‘Tis getting dark. There is no time for any excursions. Now come back up here before you bring trouble down upon us all.”

  “Aye, Milord. Forgive me.” She stepped forward as if to obey and then in an act of faith, made a hand signal she’d witnessed Leland make several times.

  A moment later, a blur of gray fur leapt out of the brush, knocking the soldier off his feet. A cacophony of growls and screams ensued. Fiona fled with her daughter in her arms and didn’t look back. After wading across the shallow stream, she dashed through the brush as fast as her legs would carry her.

  It wasn’t long before Fiona heard voices and loud footsteps close behind her. She continued going, trying to shield Clare from the sharp branches flying back at them as they ran up a steep embankment. Fiona pushed herself, although her arms and legs ached from her daughter’s extra weight. Soon they reached the top of the hill, but when she emerged from the brush, the sight before her took her last reserve of strength. They had come to a large gorge with no way around. Angry green storm clouds formed on the horizon as the footsteps grew closer. Fiona knew her plan to escape had failed.

  Leland and his company caught up to the enemy soldiers about noon the following day. The rainstorm had delayed them, but now he could see Fiona and Clare riding on a horse in the middle of the company. They both had their hands tied and Fiona’s dress was torn, but they looked strong. Leland whispered a prayer of thanksgiving from his hiding spot on the hill.

  The landscape had changed significantly after they left the mountains. The low rolling green hills provided little shelter from the sun or eastern wind. The company had also picked up speed with no obstacles in their way. They would reach the sea faster than anticipated and his men Niall promised to send were at least a day behind him. It was unlikely they would arrive in time to help.

  Leland had begun to lose hope when a rustle nearby caught his attention. He turned toward the noise with a hand on the pommel of his sword. “Be ready,” he whispered to his three remaining guards. “Our position may have been compromised.”

  A large gray animal emerged from behind a bush and Leland smiled while sheathing his sword. “There you are, old friend.” Artair limped forward, favoring his right leg and whined when reaching him. “It’s all right, boy. I’ll fix you up in no time.”

  Leland scratched the dog behind the
ears as he rested beside him on the ground. Seeing his wolfhound again brought hope back into his heart. He remembered so many times in the Bible when God helped the Israelites defeat large armies with a small amount of men. They could do the same with His help.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Óir Harbor

  Fiona had heard stories of the Golden City when she was a girl. Aoife was rumored to be the most beautiful in the entire land of Ardena—the arches and domes of the fortress inlayed with pure gold from the Óir Mountains. Now it was only a shell of the wonderous city she’d heard about.

  The walls of the fortress had been rebuilt with wood—a temporary bandage for the wounded structure. Some of the houses close to the fortress had been repaired in a hasty fashion as well, but there were no townspeople or merchants on the streets—only Fergus’ men he had left to occupy the city. The sight brought tears to her eyes.

  The soldiers took her and Clare through the gates and into the fortress. They were given chambers facing the distant mountains. Three armed men stood before the entrance to her chambers and cut her restraints. Lorcan, their dark-haired leader, crossed his arms over his chest and studied her with intense brown eyes. “Rest well tonight, Your Majesty. Tomorrow you will set sail to meet your betrothed.” Before she had the chance to respond, he closed the door and locked it.

  Fiona held her sleeping daughter close and walked onto the terrace outside their chambers. They were too high up to dream of any kind of escape. She gazed at the mountains in the distance, remembering how it felt to dance with Leland, knowing she would soon be his queen. How had her life change so drastically in a few short days? “Oh, Leland, where are you?”

  She dried her tears with her tattered sleeve while walking back into her chambers for the night. Then she crossed to the bed and crawled under the covers with Clare. At least they had a warm, safe place to rest. After sleeping on the cold ground several nights, it was a comfort to have a roof over their heads, even if she dreaded what the new day would bring.

  Leland pulled the hood from his borrowed cloak over his head while journeying down the docks at sunset. He had left Artair to recover from his injury at the camp with his men while he scouted out the area.

  Unlike the shallow harbor in Solas, Óir Harbor was deep, allowing even larger ships to pull close to the shoreline. It was one of many features that use to attract merchants from all over the realm to sell and trade, making Aoife the wealthiest city in all of Ardena. Now there were only a few scattered warships, most of them having been destroyed during the battle of Brannagh. However, the further Leland walked, he recognized about four merchant vessels not belonging to the enemy. They were brave sailors or pirates bold enough to trade with the ruthless soldiers occupying his kingdom.

  Eventually, Leland came to a medium cog-style ship. It appeared to have once been a transport for a wealthy nobleman, but the name was worn off the side. He looked over the vessel, noticing places in the hull where it had been repaired and tarred over to make it watertight again.

  “Who goes there?” a gruff voice asked from above him.

  “Only a traveler, looking to trade for goods.”

  “Well, kindly be on your way. The cap’n don’t do business this late in the evenin’. But if ye return in the mornin’ he’ll be happy to speak with ye.”

  Noticing the old sailor seemed to relax a bit, he moved closer to the ship and ran his hands over the freshly dried paint on the prow. “I apologize for disturbing you. I was only admiring your ship. ‘Tis rare to see a beauty like this after the wars.”

  “Aye, the cap’n requested she be repainted while in port, but we ran out of resources. We be movin’ on in a few days hence once the job be finished.”

  Leland nodded, forming a plan in his head. “Is there a possibility your captain would speak with me tonight? The matter is of great urgency.”

  The older man narrowed his eyes at him. “I’ll tell thee what. Describe the matter to me and I’ll go tell the cap’n. Twill be up to him to come speak with ye or not.”

  “‘Tis a private matter. I’m afraid I will talk to the captain about it only, accept to say I could provide the gold he needs to repair the ship.”

  The man huffed at him. “Oh, do ye now? Well, I be the first mate of this here vessel. Anything ye need to tell the cap’n goes through me.”

  Leland sighed, ready to move on to the next ship. “I apologize for wasting your time. Perhaps I shall return in the morning if I find no one else who will help.”

  He turned to walk away, but was met with a hard knock to his head. A burst of color erupted in his vision and then throbbing pain as he fell onto the wooden dock.

  Three men came into view him as he faded out of consciousness. The first one stood over him, grinning with missing teeth. “Have gold to pay the cap’n, do ye? We shall see if ye speak the truth.”

  Leland came to slowly, hearing voices echoing off the walls of a structure. He wanted to jump up and fight his captors, but knew from the pounding in his head and the scratchy rope around his wrists and ankles, he wouldn’t be going very far. His best defense at the moment was to remain still and glean as much information from their conversation as possible.

  “Forgive me, Cap’n. I should have spoken with ye first, but there he be, snoopin’ ‘round the ship. I did what I thought best.”

  “I understand, Murtagh, but what about the others? What possessed them to strike him so hard? Did he threaten the lives of the crew?”

  The captain’s voice sounded different from his crew—so much so he almost opened his eyes. Did he hear a hint of a highborn Órlaithan accent?

  “No, Cap’n,” the first mate continued. “Again, I apologize. ‘Twill not happen again.”

  “Very well. You may go now.”

  Footsteps retreated away from him and then the creaking of floorboards took its place as the captain paced. After a minute or two he paused by Leland and nudged him with his boot before kneeling close to his head. “Time to wake. Can you hear me? I do hope my crew members did not cause any permanent damage.”

  Leland groaned and opened his eyes, blinking several times before his vision cleared. The young man before him wore all black—a striking contrast to his blond hair, beard and sea green eyes. He drew in a strangled gasp, believing his head injury could be worse than he previously thought. “Tristan?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Strangers & Kin

  Captain Brody Smyth stared at the man who had called him Tristan, searching his mind for any hint of a memory. When none came, he stood and crossed his arms, as if to shield himself from the man’s curious gaze. “No one has called me by that name in over a year.”

  The man let out a groan while forcing himself into a sitting position. “‘Tis Leland. You may not remember me, but I have never stopped searching for you. I’m sorry for all you have suffered, Cousin.”

  The captain stumbled back and sat in the armchair across the cabin from the stranger. “You are mistaken. I am not your cousin. From this moment forward, you shall refer to me as Captain or Captain Smyth. And you mustn’t talk of your mistake to anyone else or there will be consequences.”

  His eyes filled with hurt, but he recovered quickly. “Of course. I apologize, Captain.”

  Brody tugged on the collar of his shirt and managed to calm himself. Then he knelt again and cut Leland’s restraints. “‘Tis quite all right. I’m sorry for overreacting. Sometimes people mistake me for the former king, but I try to ignore it. You see, it may cause a bad reputation with my crew.”

  Leland nodded while rubbing his sore wrists, but still feeling a bit dizzy, he stayed put on the floor for the time being. “Of course. I would never wish that. However, I must ask you something. Please do not take offense, but why would an honorable young man such as yourself resort to piracy?”

  Brody started to pace again. Something about the man’s brown eyes made him want to trust him. It seemed he could tell him anything without the risk of judgement. He simply
wanted to understand his decision. He paused and stared out the small port window as the last hints of sunlight faded from the sky. “It has not been an easy life for me…at least the parts I can remember. A fishing boat captain found me floating on some wreckage—made me part of his crew. I couldn’t remember who I was, so he called me Brody and treated me like his son. That was until this business of people thinking I was King Tristan began. I was captured. However, I didn’t discover why they imprisoned me until the King of South Rhona showed up in the cell next to mine. We were left to slowly rot there, until one night against all odds, we were rescued.”

  Leland smiled. “‘Twas God’s will. King Ewan told me you were an encouragement to him during those long months in prison. You have both become stronger men as a result of your hardships.”

  Tristan released a rueful laugh. “I do not condone the talk of God on this ship. Whatever faith I had died during my time in prison. He has forsaken me.”

  Leland started to open his mouth like he wanted to argue, but remained quiet for several moments before finally looking up at him again. “What happened after you parted ways with King Ewan?”

  Brody rolled a wooden die over in his palm, reliving the short three years of his life he could recall. “I traveled south looking for answers—for some shred of memory from my past. I made it to just north of Aoife. That’s where I met my crew. They were all outcasts, same as I. Most of them had lost their families in the war. Banding together gave us a new purpose. Under the guise of being pirates, we are protected. We trade for goods with Fergus’ men and try to help the survivors from the conquered villages.”