Dragon Knight's Sword (19 page)

There was no time for sorrow, nor envy, realizing it was the price he was paying.

Wiping a hand across his face, he slowly cast his gaze to Brigid, and his protective instincts screamed within. Lunging forward, he took off running toward her. His strong arms engulfed her against him. As her sobs lessoned, he could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest.

“Shhhh, lass, I am here.” Duncan spoke softly, his touch gentle on her head.

Cupping her head in his hands, he peered into her eyes. “Are ye hurt, Brigid?

Too overcome by emotion to speak, Brigid placed her hands over his and shook her head no.

Duncan wrapped her in his arms again. “Och,
leannan
, ye are verra brave.”

Her teeth started to chatter. “I don…don’t fe…feel brave,” snuggling more into his embrace.

Casting his sight out onto the loch, Duncan held her close as her tremors subsided. His feisty Brigid had faced the dragon. She did not scream or flee in terror. And when did he start to think of her as
his
?

He lifted her to her feet and brushed a kiss along her brow. “I need to find us shelter, since darkness is falling.”

Stepping away, he whistled for the horses. Gently, he lifted the sword and placed in the pouch on Roan. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw her peering out at the loch, mumbling.

“What are ye doing?” he asked quietly noticing how the wind caught wisps of her curls. She stood transfixed.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, she angled her head up at him. “Saying good-bye,” she replied softly.

His chest swelled at the respect she had shown for the great one. Holding out his hand, he gave her a small smile. “Come, lass.”

****

Hours later, Duncan let out a sigh of relief. It had been many years since he had been in this part of the glen. Therefore, it had taken longer than expected to find the cave beneath the waterfall. When he spotted the old oak with the markings he and his brothers had carved into it that spring day, he realized he was near.

So many memories came rushing back, unleashing emotions he had held in check for over a year. Memories of when they made a pact to always stand united against any enemy, and to protect their baby sister from harm.

They had been young lads when Margaret came into their world. She was a beacon of light and hope in their family. A girl had not been born in over a millennium, and all thought it a blessing from the fae. Therefore, on an early spring morn, Angus gathered Stephen, Alastair, and himself, to go on a quest to thank the fae and swear their allegiance. They had been staying at Castle Creag and with their father’s blessing, promising they would return by the last ray of light, they set out.

It was sheer luck when they found the waterfall after marking their path only on the oak trees, each with their own name in ogham. If any others should pass, they would understand its meaning as one of a passing druid and give it the respect due.

Angus had chosen the spot and started the fire, since this was his power. Stephen would call upon the fae, using his power of visions and water. Alastair being so very young, then tried to bring forth foxgloves from the ground, and succeeded only in thickening the grass under their feet. Duncan smiled at the memory and remembered how he brought the wind to circle around them instead of through them. He had mastered the wind and storms early in his life and took great pride in it.

As they had chanted their vows, each withdrew their dirks, and sliced it across their palm. Still chanting, they came together in a ritual only they would understand. Linking hands as one, they continued chanting until a white light cascaded over them and all went silent within the forest grove.

It was the first time they met the Guardian. She came forth in blazing colors, thanking each of them and marking on their foreheads her blessing as she passed. They returned many times after that first day to play and swim near the waterfall.

Yet, they never saw the Guardian again until that fateful night.

Duncan inhaled deeply, pressing the memories of long ago back within. Why he thought of this place now after all that had happened, he could not fathom. Perhaps there was still hope for his brothers. Brigid would be safe here amid the magic, a magic created by his brothers and himself that spring morning.

****

Brigid shivered. The last rays of the sun were descending fast, and she was cold, hungry, and tired. Her entire body ached. She certainly was not accustomed to riding horses, and her recent activity with Duncan made it more difficult to stay upright on Roan. What she wouldn’t give for a warm bath and a soft mattress.

She arched her back more to stretch out the kinks when she heard the rush of water. They had entered another grove, but this one had its own waterfall, tucked against the mountain. The water had its own rhythm, slowly cascading over the rocks at the bottom. Green moss draped majestically over the stones on either sides, giving it an ethereal feel.

“Breathtaking, wouldn’t you say, Roan?” Brigid gave a small rub to the top of his head, and he nodded as if he understood. She was captivated as the spray from the water danced along the rocks gliding into the stream, letting the hypnotic trance of the water soothe the weariness within her.

Duncan dismounted, walking over to her. “There’s a cave nestled to one side of the water where we will stay the night.” Reaching up, he grasped her waist and brought her gently to the ground as if her five foot nine inch frame was nothing more than feathers. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, he spoke so softly she almost could not hear him. “So very soft.”

She trembled from the touch of his hand. Brigid didn’t realize she had been holding her breath, until he stepped back away from her and started reaching for items off Roan. The great dragon had spoken of love. Yet, how could she possibly love this man so soon? It was probably only a one-sided love affair. He certainly didn’t
love
her. Did he?

“Here, let me help.” Brigid turned her gaze from him.

Duncan handed her the bag which held their food, and her stomach growled. She tossed it over her shoulder, the effort causing her to wince. Thank God, he didn’t see, or he would think her to be some weak girl. Come to think of it, he never once asked about her time. Was he not curious? His life was ruled and dictated by magic, though, surely, wouldn’t he have questions? She had questions—
questions
about his powers, the sword and of course, the great dragon, the one she called Nessie.

“Is he not curious about
me
?” she spoke softly. Hearing a snicker, she realized the only one listening to her conversation was Roan.

“Thanks for the support, Roan.” Pursing her lips, she came to the conclusion it didn’t matter. She would gather all the courage she possessed and see this quest through. It would be her gift to Duncan. He would never know her feelings for him, keeping the treasure under lock and key inside her heart, and taking it back home.

Strolling along, she saw the path they were taking was strewn among faery mounds. Wild mushrooms clumped together in a circle with foxgloves on one side, and wildflowers on another. Noticing Duncan was taking great care not to trespass inside them, she followed in his step. Her grandmother had taught her to respect these sacred places dear to the faery. Jumping over one, she landed smack against Duncan’s backside, which seemed to be made of marble, he didn’t even budge from the impact.

“Sorry,” mumbled Brigid.

“Humph!” He shook his head.

Dropping their sacks and kneeling before the stream, Duncan cupped his hands in the water, taking a drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stood. “I’ll gather some branches and tend to the horses. This will give ye some time for privacy.”

She arched an eyebrow in question.

“We are safe here. I see no movement.” Taking the reins of Brandubh and Roan, he added, “Ye can tend to your personal affairs.”

Brigid gaped in disbelief as he led the horses away from the stream. “You’re just going to leave me here to do what? In a very cold stream?”

She heard him chuckle as he continue to walk away from her.

Continuing to grumble, she sat on the rock watching the water gurgling in the stream and took a deep breath. “What I really
need
is heated water.”

Dipping a hand slowly into the stream, Brigid withdrew it quickly. “Damn it!” Quickly splashing the icy water on her face, the sting bringing back life to her weary senses, she cupped her hands back in and drew forth some water to drink. Shivering as the water went down, she stood to shake off the last droplets, wiping her hands on her jeans. “This will have to do.”

Darkness was now descending, and glancing up, she watched Sorcha take cover in a nearby tree. The wind shifted, and she felt warmth spread across her neck. She turned sensing Duncan was returning.

He
was
the wind, and she blushed.

“Are ye ready?” Duncan asked quietly.

Brigid nodded and followed Duncan until they approached a hilly mound, which went over a narrow part of the stream acting as a bridge. Moving closer to the waterfall and passing between two giant pine trees, she came to the entrance to the cave. Light spilled forth from a fire Duncan had built and the effect was inviting. Her stomach rumbled,
again
.

The entrance low as she ducked to step inside, gasping immediately. The walls weren’t lined with dirt, but of stones that glowed with various colors. The firelight created an illuminating effect. Reaching out, she felt the smooth contours, marveling at their contrast. In the far corner, Brigid saw branches on the ground covered by Duncan’s plaid.

“Come and sit. I ken ye are hungry. I can hear your belly speaking.” A smiled played at the corner of his mouth.

Brigid snapped her eyes away from the bed and narrowed them at him, until she glimpsed the banquet Duncan had spread out on the other plaid. It was all they had, but she didn’t care. It was food.

Duncan handed her the ale, which she gladly took a swig, plopping down to eat her feast of hard cheese and an oatcake. Spying something black she asked, “Blackberries, Duncan?”

“Aye.”

“Here?”

“Aye. I cannot take from the animals here in this part of the grove, but fruit is plentiful.”

“Why not?”

Brigid popped a few into her mouth, savoring the smell and taste as she closed her eyes. “Hmmmm, so good.” Drops of the juice lingered on her lips, and she used her tongue to lap them up.

Duncan froze ale in hand. “Does food always bring ye such pleasure?”

She slowly opened her eyes and met his. “Of course.”

“Ale?” he croaked out.

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled. “Blackberry?”

“Nae. Ye enjoy them.”

“Duncan what do you mean you can’t take from the animals here?” Brigid started to gnaw on the oatcake, wishing she had coffee, tea,
anything
, to dunk it into. She almost thought of splashing some ale over the stale thing.

He wiped a hand across his face and stared across at the fire. “It is sacred in the grove. No animal can come to harm here.”

“Oh. I did see the faery mounds. How did you find this place?” she asked taking another swig of ale.

“Angus found it.”

Brigid’s heart stood still for one beat. It was the first time he had mentioned any of his family, and she took this as a sign of an opening. “Angus is the oldest, right?”

A deep sigh escaped Duncan, and he turned back to her, a frown furrowing his brow. “Aye, as ye already ken.”

She leaned across and placed her hand gently on his forearm, keeping her eyes level with his. “Duncan, I’ve told you, where I come from I know the legend. It is written down and told in bardic tales, still.”

He pushed away from her grip so fast she swayed back. Standing against the wall, Duncan placed one shoulder against it for support.

“Duncan?”

“Legends!” He snorted

Brigid heard thunder rumbling in the distance, from Duncan no doubt. She had to take his mind off that night until he was ready.

“Tell me about your brothers and their powers. Why did Angus choose this place?”

His face was taut, and the muscles tensed along his jaw, but she was determined to get him to talk.

“Blackberries then?”

He snapped his gaze back to her, and his lips quivered in a half smile. Shoving off from the wall, he walked over and placing one hand on the wall above the entrance, looked out on the night sky.

“We are descended from the fae, part man, part fae, each with our own power. Angus is the oldest, his is fire, and he carries the shield. Stephen carries the Stone of Ages, and can work magic with water. He also has the sight. Then there is Alastair. His power is of the great mother—the land, and he carries the axe.” Stepping back inside, Duncan brought the wind inside the cave. “I think ye ken what
my
powers are.”

The air swirled around her and Brigid felt its warmth. A question marked her face, “You can control the temperature with the wind?”

Duncan frowned. “I do not ken the word.”

“It means you can control its heat and coolness.”

Understanding marked his features as he nodded. “Aye.”

“The storms, too?”

He glanced upwards. “Aye, storms.”

“What about the relics? Do they hold power, too?”

“Oh aye. Their magic blended with ours is mighty powerful.”

“And this place?” Brigid waved her hands indicating the cave.

“Aye...this place. Angus led Stephen, Alastair, and me to the grove, marking it with the way of the druid. He claimed a fire burned within him and with each step, the heat of the flame led him to this place.” Speaking more softly, he continued, “We had set out on our journey to thank the fae for the blessing of our wee sister, Margaret.”

“Blessing? Why?” asked Brigid. She had risen, standing against the opposite wall.

“The legends speak of only males descending from the Mackays? Your legends do not tell of her birth, of a female, the first in over a thousand years?” His words laced with anger as he stepped closer to her.

“No, Duncan. They only tell of the knights, but I’m sorry to say Margaret was only mentioned briefly and she...” Brigid hesitated.