Dragon Knight's Axe (27 page)

Brigid shook her head with a look of confusion. “I don’t understand it. Why are the animals and birds flocking to her? We had a terrible time shooing out the owl.”

Smiling, Alastair brushed an errant lock that was forever getting in Fiona’s eyes. “She has the gift of speaking to them,” he answered softly.

“Awww…interesting. Right, Nell?” Brigid angled her head at the young lass.

Nell giggled. “’Tis good to ken another.” Lifting the cat up to look into its eyes, she said, “Keep Lady Fiona warm.” Tucking the cat back under the covers, she gave Alastair’s hand a quick squeeze before scampering off.

“She has the gift as well?”

“Yes, along with a habit of taking in strays. Especially injured ones. Duncan built her a small cottage next to the stables to house them. Some manage to stay and others eventually leave. We all breathed a sigh of relief when her wildcat left.”

“Truth?”

Brigid snorted. “Yep. She was under orders not to tend to it without one of the men. It had a wounded paw when it showed up at the gate one morning. We let her treat the animal, and it stayed for several days.”

“A brave lass, indeed.”

Brigid’s smile faded. “Yes and on several occasions. We were
both
taken by Lachlan. She and Finn suffered greatly. You can understand why we all want this man dead.”

Clenching his jaw, Alastair looked back at Fiona. The man wreaked havoc everywhere. His evil had touched his entire family and now his reach extended to more. “The man must be stopped.”

“We are trying. But first, we must get
your lady
well. Now go, before I call for your brothers to haul you out of here.”

“As if they could.” He chuckled walking out of the room.

Mulling over his enlightening conversation with Brigid, Alastair proceeded to walk out of the castle toward the loch. Removing his boots, he stripped off his trews and tunic. Fisting his hands, he braced himself for the cold water and dove straight in. The water pierced his body like knives, and he welcomed the intrusion. Hard and fast, he swam, relishing the exercise. He had no desire to clash swords with his brothers.

He wanted to be alone.

If Stephen had asked the question about his axe, Duncan’s would surely follow. And he could throw a mighty punch when asking. There was nothing to speak of. He would make his own decision regardless of what his brothers thought or had done with
their
relics.

Dunking his entire body back under, he went out deeper. With each stroke, he sensed his limbs relaxing, the water warming. “Bloody hell,” he sputtered realizing the reason for the change in the water. Shifting his body around, he spotted Stephen on the edge of the shore, his hand in the water.

“Leave me be!” he roared.

Just then, Duncan ambled forth, sword clutched in his hand. Pointing it at him, he shouted, “Get your arse out of the water and into the lists.”

“Not happening.”

Duncan glanced at Stephen. “How hot can ye make the water?”

“Ye would not dare,” hissed Alastair.

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Och, did ye hear that, Duncan? He dared me, aye?”

“I will rip your fingers from your hand, Stephen,” warned Alastair.

Duncan rubbed his chin in thought. “’Tis a challenge for sure.”

As the water continued to warm considerably, Alastair was tempted to shake the ground until they toppled over, but he realized that Stephen would have the advantage if he did not make haste and retreat out of the loch. Swimming furiously toward the shore, he barely made it out without the water scorching his flesh.

Hearing Stephen’s laughter, he wasted no time in throwing the first punch, landing it squarely on his brother’s jaw. “Ye always preferred brute force over magic.” Leaving Stephen reeling from the punch, he eyed Duncan as he stormed past him, daring him to make the first move.

“I still expect to see ye in the lists,” Duncan shouted.

Flinging a curse out over his shoulder, Alastair continued to walk away until he realized that his clothes were not where he left them. Placing his hands on his hips, he gritted his teeth.

“Ye ken where ye can find your clothes, and we will be waiting there,” stated Duncan, his laughter filling Alastair’s ears.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“When there was no hope, the Knight stripped his honor from his flesh, leaving only the beast.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alastair closed his eyes. Six long days had passed without any movement from Fiona.

Sleep evaded him.

Food no longer called out to him.

Furthermore, his brothers pursued him at every corner of the castle.

Matilda slipped fresh herbs under Fiona’s pillow. “There is naught I can do. She should have awoken days ago. With each new dawn, I fear she slips further into the land of forever.”

“Nae! Do not speak of the place! There must be another way to bring her back.” His voice sounded strained. Alastair refused to believe the healer’s words. Opening his eyes, he glanced down at the woman he loved. Fiona looked to be merely sleeping, not fading away to the dark slumber of death.

Sighing, Matilda gathered her bag, and moved to the door, where Aileen greeted her. Shaking her head, the healer walked quietly out of the room.

Aileen closed the door and crossed to the table. Pouring fresh water into a mug, she brought it to Alastair. “If you permit me, I would like to try and help her.”

“What can ye do?” he grumbled taking the mug from her.

Feeling her touch, he kept his gaze on the bed. “I am a healer with Fae blood.”

Looking at her incredulously, he snapped, “And ye are revealing this now? Why did ye not help from the start?”

She met his eyes fully. “Would you have let me try in the beginning knowing who I was? I don’t think so. Besides, I cannot heal the mind. I can only attempt to find her within and coax her forward. I have had a few days to figure out the best way to try this approach.”

Alastair nodded solemnly. “Forgive me. Do what ye can. Is there anything ye require from me?”

“Go sit by the window.”

As soon as he took a seat on the ledge, Aileen sat down on the bed next to Fiona. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths. A moment later, she placed her hands on either side of Fiona’s head. He watched in awe as the energy swirled around the two of them. Hope surged within him, and he made a silent plea that her magic would bring his woman back to him. Prayers he had not spoken in over a year broke free inside his mind.

Swallowing, he laid his head back on the cool stone and waited.

When a gentle hand brushed along his face, he was startled to find he had drifted off to sleep. Grasping Aileen’s hand, he did not need to hear the words. Her face told him what he did not want to hear.

“I am so sorry, Alastair. She has drifted too far. Her spirit is already in the Summerland, and her body is slowly following. When it does…she will die. I tried calling out to her, but she cannot hear me. I had hoped that a part of her spirit was still on this side.”

Her words pierced like a dagger to his heart. He quickly glanced away. “I thank ye for your help. Now please leave us.”

With a deep sigh, she quietly left the chamber.

Sliding down onto the floor, Alastair stared at Fiona. It should have been his life the Fae took, not hers. What purpose to send her to him in the first place? The ache of losing her, now a stone of unbearable weight crushing his chest.

“
Why
?” he roared, uncaring if others heard his plea. “Why must all the good ones be taken from us? She never hurt anyone. She took this journey to help
me!
”

Banging his head against the stone, he let the fury of the beast emerge.

****

As thunder rolled outside, Alastair opened his eyes. He had spent the night talking to Fiona. Filling the lonely silence with stories of his childhood—pouring out details he never shared with anyone. Praying, hoping, and pleading for her to come back to him. When he could speak no more, the darkness enveloped him and he relented. The illusion had faded, and the stark reality of truth gripped his heart.

Rubbing his face vigorously, he looked up. During the early hours of the morning, someone had left a trencher of food and drink. He quickly glanced toward the bed thinking that perchance Aileen was incorrect. But nae. And his heart hardened further.

Standing with clenched fists, he stared down at Fiona. “Forgive me,
leannan
.”

Going over to his bag, he drew forth one of the chess pieces. Trailing his finger over the amber, he thought back to his memories with her. Quickly shoving them away, he strode over to her bedside. Placing the piece on the chair, he looked on Fiona one last time and walked out of his chamber.

Reaching the stables, he said nothing as he prepared Gawain for their journey.

Tiernan stepped into view. “Ye are leaving, Sir Alastair?”

“Aye,” he replied more brisk than he intended to.

Glancing sideways, he let out a groan seeing Finn running off. No doubt to inform his brothers of his departure.

“Best to end this now,” he muttered heading back to explain his decision, since he did not want his brothers to come after him. When he stepped into the bailey, he could already hear Finn yelling.

“He is leaving,” shouted Finn running into the hall.

Brigid caught his arm “Whoa…who is leaving?”

“Alastair. I heard him tell Tiernan when we saw him preparing his horse.”

“Oh no,” whispered Aileen coming up behind them. “It’s because of what I told him yesterday.”

“Finn, go find Duncan.” Turning to Aileen, she shook her head. “You only told him what you saw. She still lives, and he should
not
give up on her.”

“What is wrong, Brigid?” demanded Duncan striding down the hall.

“What is wrong is that our brother has decided to leave,” interrupted Stephen.

“God’s blood!” spat Duncan.

“Nae, it was Fiona’s blood that was spilled,” Alastair stated as he stood at the entrance, glaring at his brother.

“We will not discuss this here. Ye can explain yourself in here.” Storming over to the great hall, Duncan pushed open the massive doors and waited.

Alastair hesitated briefly and then proceeded inside with Stephen following closely behind him. He did not care about their opposition to his departing. It was not their decision to make. Once he had spoken, he would leave Urquhart and never return. Preparing himself for the assault of anger from his brothers, he watched as Stephen closed the door, sealing the three of them inside alone.

He did not have to wait long.

“Why are ye leaving?” Duncan’s anger apparent when the boom of thunder exploded overhead.

“I do not wish to stay. There is naught for me here.”

Stephen threw his hand upward. “By the hounds, Alastair, she still lives. Ye cannae leave her.”

Alastair’s fists clenched.

“Is this your love for Fiona? I ken she is drifting further away, yet, as Stephen states, she lives.” Duncan placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I have sent for the druid, Cathal. He may be able to help.”

“I will not watch her die,” he growled pushing away from Duncan.

“Ye must have hope,” pleaded Duncan.

“Did ye have hope when Brigid died in your arms, Duncan? Or ye, Stephen, when ye sent Aileen back to her own time?
Nae.
I am leaving.” Waving his hand about, he continued, “This is your life, not mine. I have no wish to be a part of it.” Turning, he made his way to the door.

“By all that’s holy,” roared Stephen moving forward to block his path.

Immediately, Duncan held out his arm preventing Stephen from going any further. “He has made his choice. When he walks out those doors, he will no longer be our brother.”

Whirling on them, Alastair’s face was a mask of rage and pain. “I
failed
Meggie and now, Fiona. I cannae be in this place where there is a constant reminder of how I did not protect them. Meggie trusted me with her secret, and I broke that trust, just as surely as I broke my vow to Desmond, Fiona’s brother, to safeguard her.”

“We all carry the scars and the guilt of what we have done,” Stephen uttered.

“Ye may have found your peace,
brothers
, but I will never claim mine.”

When Alastair opened the doors, the women stared at him. Giving them each a curt nod, he strode out of the castle and quickly made his way to Gawain. He did not have to look behind him to know his brothers were watching him. Their power flowed around him, and he was not sure if it was there to protect him or damn him.

Waiting for the portcullis to open, he gripped the reins tightly, his gut twisting at the agony of never seeing family, or Fiona again. Giving a nudge to his horse, he firmly closed the door on all emotions. He allowed his beast to slither out, and he welcomed the coldness that seeped inside.

It was far better than the pain.

****

Rain continued to thrash at him, and he snarled believing Duncan was behind the foul weather. “Do your worst, brother,” Alastair shouted, shoving his fist into the air.

Lightning flashed above him in response to his anger.

“I will shake the ground all the way to Urquhart if ye do not cease,” he bellowed.

Gawain snorted, and Alastair trudged onward, east through the Great Glen. Dense oaks and pines hindered their progress. When his horse slipped, he brought him to a stop. “Not much further, my friend.” Patting him on the head, he looked down below. Soon his journey would be over, and he would be able to return to his life at sea.

“Let us finish this, Gawain.” Steering his horse down the path, he made his way to the water. The canopy of trees gave way to the openness of the loch and steadily he moved on to his destination. As they rode further east, he quickly picked up the pace. There were only a few more hours of daylight, and he wanted this deed over with before night settled upon the land.

Alastair let out a sigh of relief when his senses detected the dragon’s presence. Dismounting, he removed his axe, and then sent the horse trotting away. As he unraveled the cloth, he ran his thumb over the green dragon stone embedded in the handle. There was a time when it would bring comfort when he required answers. Yet, he could detect no power.