Dragon Knight's Medallion (3 page)

The grinding continued, and then Osgar moved to a small hearth where a pot hung over a fire. Dipping a ladle in, he withdrew some liquid, pouring it into two mugs. Then he tossed in the ground herbs and stirred the contents. Stepping over to Stephen, he held one out. “Drink this. It will help with the aftereffects of your pain.”

“This is my fate. To live with the pain.” Stephen’s gaze returned to Osgar.

Osgar grimaced. “Now ye are playing the martyr, and it does not bode well for ye.”

He cocked a brow in response and with a sigh took the mug from Osgar. Swirling the contents, he asked, “Tell me, why would a druid want to join the Tironensian order? Do the other brothers ken who ye are?”

The druid turned monk did not reply immediately. Instead, he sipped slowly from his mug. Turning away, he moved over to the bench and sat down. He sighed deeply, placing his hands on the workbench. His words came forth softly. “I came to the abbey seeking the truth about the one God of the new religion. They say he spoke of love and all were part of his flock.”

Intrigued, Stephen came over and sat down across from him. “Aye, I’ve heard this, too.”

“As a druid, we are always learning, and this is why I am here. It remains to be seen if I choose to stay within the fold.” He shrugged. “Now, do the others ken?” He chuckled softly, saying, “Aye, some do and accept. There are others like myself here. However, there are a few who do not want us to stay.”

“Why dinnae ye say something?” Stephen asked, shocked there were other druids besides his friend.

“Would ye have been accepting of them? Nae, I think ye would have never stayed, and your path led ye here to this abbey for a purpose. A place ye ken is near a huge body of water.” Osgar took another sip from his mug.

Stephen’s fists clenched as the words resonated. “Then ye understand all of me and my powers? Ye ken of the order of which I was once a part?”

“Aye, and ye are still a part of the order.”

“Nae!” he roared.

The water in the pot burst forth, splashing its contents everywhere, and in the process extinguishing the fire.

Stephen unclenched his fists, and rubbed a hand across his face. “Forgive me, Osgar. I let my temper control me.” He rose slowly. “It might be time to take my leave.”

Osgar just shook his head, rising up as well. “Nae, my son. All are welcomed, and the search for one’s soul or fate is always a journey. Sometimes the journey may be dark, but ye are never alone.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ye were led here for a reason, Stephen. I believe ye are on a quest—one that may take ye to Hell, but it is one ye must seek out.”

“I am cursed.”

“I do not believe so. Why would ye still receive visions? Why would ye still possess great powers?” Shrugging slightly, he continued, “Ye have a destiny to fulfill, and ye must not give up on the gods and goddesses, too.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes at the last, stepping back from Osgar’s grip. “They are
naught
to me. How can ye speak thus, knowing what ye do?” he spat out.

“I believe the Lord is the greatest druid of all, and I still believe in the others. That has not changed.”

Stephen picked up his mug and finished its contents. Placing it back down on the table, he moved toward the door. “The truth I have learned here today will stay within these walls, for I fear not all the brothers will welcome ye and your kind. I would guard yourself against Brother Timmons.”

“Yes, I did hear what happened in the village earlier.”

“Sour news travels fast within the abbey,” Stephen remarked.

The monk nodded in agreement, saying, “Aye, but what ye did for young Ian will travel the winds far more quickly than in these walls.”

Stephen frowned and crossed his arms across his chest. “How so?”

Tapping a finger to his mouth as if debating whether to say anything further, Osgar walked over to Stephen. “Our young Ian MacDuff is destined for great things. He will be the next Master Druid and will sit on the council.”

“
Ian
? How do ye ken this? He is but a small lad.”

“It is not for me to say, but it has been foretold and the vision confirmed. Ye must pray for his safety, for I fear for him and his family. If the news should reach the wrong men, it would prove fatal. There are those who seek to eliminate all druids. The current manner is burning at the stake.”

Stephen waved his hands. “The brothers, here?”

“Likely a few, but Rome would seek it. I do ken they are sending a council in the next few months to view our progress here at Arbroath.”

Stephen let out a long held breath and started to pace the room. Stopping before the spilled water, he grimaced. “I may be battling my own demons with the druids, but I would never want harm to come to them or to ye, Osgar.” He raked a hand through his hair, contemplating his next thought. “If Ian is destined to be the next Master Druid, then he will require a guard. One may never ken if he is to become a druid, or bishop, no?” The thought of anyone burning a small child, simply because of religious beliefs, was too horrific for him to fathom.

“True,” smiled Osgar.

“Thank ye for the drink.” He gave a curt nod, and strode toward the door, realizing for the first time in over a year, he felt some purpose to his life. Yes, he thought, what better way than to serve one who is destined for greatness. His life was now meant to serve.

Opening the door, he welcomed the icy blast of air. It revived his spirit, and he walked proudly out into the afternoon.

Osgar stood still, slowly watching the Dragon Knight amble off through the garden. Lifting his head upwards, he spoke the ancient language, giving thanks to the Goddess, and one to Saint Michael, too. Stephen’s quest had been prophesied along with Ian’s. The Knight was destined for greatness, but first he must meet his fate.

“Brother Osgar!” shouted Brother James, running into the workroom.

Osgar held up his hand to still the impatient man, watching as he tried to regain his breath. “What is so urgent that has ye in a flux?”

“We have news, Brother Osgar. The council from Rome will be here in the next few weeks.”

He folded his arms within his robe, and nodded slowly. “Yes, although their arrival will be earlier than expected, it is good news, Brother James.”

“We have much to do, and a meeting is planned after prayers!” exclaimed Brother James.

“I shall be along shortly.”

Brother James nodded, before quickly turning and making haste back through the garden.

A deep sigh escaped Osgar’s lips as he stepped out into the garden. Casting his gaze up at the sky, he whispered, “So it begins.”

Chapter Three

Present day—Boston, Massachusetts

“A Dragon’s tail has been known to span many centuries, so that one may travel its length.”

Laughter bubbled forth from Aileen as she jumped into the air to grasp the wispy floating dandelion. “Gotcha!” Holding it gently in the palm of her hand, she closed her eyes and made a silent wish. Upon opening them, she blew softly, and watched the gossamer plant head hover for a brief moment before a gust of wind took possession. She stood mesmerized as it drifted away from her sight.

“I see you’re still making faery wishes,” chuckled her Aunt Lily.

Aileen stepped toward her aunt and linked arms. “Of course! As I recall it was you who taught me them.” Then she gave her a gentle squeeze.

Nodding her head in agreement, she replied, “Yes, I do, and you would always listen spellbound.”

“Don’t forget the endless list of questions, too,” smiled Aileen.

“Yes, but that is how one learns.” Her aunt returned the pat.

The cool breeze touched Aileen’s cheek and she inhaled deeply. “I love this time of year, Aunt Lily, when life springs forth from the ground, starting the cycle all over again.” She absently touched her pendant. In the center rested a moonstone surrounded by Celtic spirals. Rubbing it in contemplation, she brought her thoughts back to the present. “Spring is a chance to do it all over again.”

“Are you speaking of nature, or yourself?”

“Both,” she sighed.

Aunt Lily halted, turning to look up at her niece. “Now you hear me, Aileen, you are not to blame for the failure of your relationship. Jim had another agenda, one that did not include you in his life. To put it bluntly, he used you to better himself in the community.”

“I know, Aunt Lily, but how could I have been so wrong about him?”

“Because you were looking at the outside, and he kept you from seeing what was inside of him.” Tapping a finger over Aileen’s heart, she added, “It was his heart that was ugly.”

“Do you think he put a glamour spell on me?”

Her aunt put her hands on her hips and glared at Aileen. “Glamour spell? You? I think you are stronger than you think. You fell for a man that was tall, taller than you, and devastatingly handsome. If you want to know the truth, we all fell for him in the beginning.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and don’t go telling the others I told you, either,” commanded her aunt.

Aileen nodded slowly. “Yes, he was taller than me. It’s difficult to always find someone taller than I am. I don’t know many females who are six feet three inches, do you?”

“No. The only one I knew to be as tall as you are was your mother, bless her, and she stood well over six feet. She and your father were extremely tall. Now, take a look at me.” She gestured with her arms. “I’m short.”

Aileen stepped over to a large oak tree and sat down against its trunk. She brushed her hand casually along its rough bark. “I miss her so much at times,” she whispered.

Her aunt dropped down next to her and grasped her hands. “There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t think of her, too. She was too young to be taken from this life.” She brushed aside a strand of hair from Aileen’s face. “Yet, I see her every day in you.”

“Except I have my father’s eyes.”

“Of that there is no doubt, though I do believe yours have more of a violet hue than his.”

“Which can be a curse when others see me, too,” she muttered.

“Stop that!” Giving Aileen a sharp smack on her leg, Aunt Lily added, “It just means you are very special. Since when did you become so critical? And, don’t tell me it’s because of Jim, or I’ll smack you again.” She said the last with a smirk.

Putting up her hands in surrender, Aileen just shook her head. “I stand corrected. I had a momentary lapse.”

“Now...” Aunt Lily stood, reaching for Aileen’s hand. “I think you should consider your father’s offer.”

Aileen got up, brushing off the leaves and dirt from her cotton dress. “Really? Fly to Scotland and what? Watch him on one of his archeological digs? He’s so immersed in his work he really doesn’t have time for me to hover nearby. No, I think he was just being kind. And I
believe
someone called him.” She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her gaze at her aunt.

“
Moi
?” Aunt Lily gave her a look of mock indignation.

She bent near her aunt’s face. “Yes, you.”

“Honestly, Aileen, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I speak with your father quite often and―” Before she could finish, they heard Cara yelling and running through the clearing toward them.

She waved her hands frantically at them. “Aileen, Lily! I have great news!”

Cara came bounding across the ground, braids whipping around her face. Coming to a halt, she held up her palm to stop their questions. Bending over and clasping her knees, she fought to control her breath. “Whew! I need to exercise more!”

“Humph!” Aileen blew out the word, casting her eyes to the sky. “Cara, out of our entire group, you are the only one in fantastic shape. Now spit it out.”

“Why, thank you, Aileen,” sassed Cara. “You’ll never guess where we, the Society of the Thistle, have been invited to visit?”

“Where?” asked Aunt Lily.

“Shall we play charades, or shall I hum a tune?” Cara asked, all the while looking like an imp with a bit of valuable knowledge.

“Cara, for the love of—” scolded Aileen.

“All right, ahem...the Society of the Thistle has been invited to Scotland to assist in doing research at Arbroath Abbey.”

Aileen flinched and grabbed Cara’s hand. “Let me guess, an Aidan Kerrigan sent the request?”

Cara reached for Aileen’s other hand, eyes alight with glee. “Yes! Oh, Aileen, isn’t this
great
news.”

She extracted her hands and started to pace. “Why would my
father
want the Society of the Thistle, one that deals only in the history and preservation of historical herbs and plants, to come to Scotland?” Aileen stopped pacing, but kept her gaze on her aunt.

Her aunt just shrugged her shoulders in response. “Don’t look at me. I know absolutely nothing.”

“I don’t have all of the details now, but when Maeve got off the phone with him, she blurted out that we were all invited to Scotland. She said he required our assistance, and he would pay our expenses,” replied Cara. She stepped over to Aileen, touching her lightly on the arm. “Are you not excited about this? It has been over a year since you’ve seen your father. I thought you would have been over the moon with this news.”

She saw the disappointment in her friend’s face, and couldn’t blame her for her own insecurities. When her mother had died of cancer several years ago, Aileen and her father retreated to their own separate worlds, hers here in Boston, and his back in Scotland. Their grief so vast neither could stand to be in each other’s company. Instead of seeking solace and comfort together, they turned to work. Yet, on occasion, she would get a call or email from her father. The details were always the same, wondering how she was, and what he was presently working on and where.

Strange, he’d only asked her a week ago to come visit him at Arbroath Abbey, and now this bit of news.

She gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Cara. It just seems peculiar, especially of my father.”

“Let’s go find Maeve and find out the rest of the details, shall we?” Aunt Lily asked. “You must admit this sounds intriguing. Your father is paying for all of us to fly to Scotland.”

Aileen nodded slowly. “Yes, Mr. Penny Pincher must need us something fierce to send for all of us.”