Dragon Knight's Axe (14 page)

Niall chuckled softly. “Aye. It is a rare gift among our people.”

Fiona grasped his hands. “Oh, Niall, I have no memories of her or our father. No true recollections of anything except bloodshed.” She sighed looking away. “Now, I’m leaving—leaving you and my home. There are many questions yet to be answered.”

“Fee,” said Niall, crushing her into his arms. “Talk to Desmond. Seek your answers and understand he will bring ye back home safely to us.”

“I am glad he is coming with us.”

“As am I. I have something that will help ye on your journey.”

Fiona watched as Niall pulled out a cuff bracelet from inside his wrap. Gently grasping her arm, he placed it on her wrist. “It was our mother’s. I took it off her arm after she died. It was meant for ye if anything should ever happen to her.”

Fiona’s eyes clouded with unshed tears. Lightly brushing her hand over the cuff, she traced her finger over the Celtic symbols. Yet, what fascinated her greatly was the amber stone that sat in the center. Gazing deeply within, she could almost see deep inside to some distance place. Something shifted inside her, connecting her past, present, and future. She finally realized why she had been so lost in her past life. She missed having parents. Rubbing her finger over the stone, she closed her eyes. “My mother’s,” she whispered.

Glancing back up at her brother, she cupped his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Niall drew her close. “Keep to Desmond. Remember, he is your guard.”

Fiona nodded. “I believe I have a full escort.”

Tipping her head back, Niall’s look was one of concern. “Listen to me, Fee. I trusted your life to the Fenian warrior once. I will not do so again.”

Frowning, she understood how her brother must feel, but she didn’t think Rory would put her in any danger. Taking his hand, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I will travel close to Desmond. He can fill me in on the many stories of my family, including you my brother.”

Niall responded with a bark of laughter. “Just remember little sister, ye must listen to
all
the stories from your brothers. Desmond will taint his version heavily in his favor.”

She tilted her head to look at Desmond. “A true bard, then?”

His face took on a solemn look as he gazed out at his brother. “Nae. Our bard was lost when we had to send
her
away.”

Realizing Niall meant her she stood back. “
Me
?”

Niall nodded slowly. “Do ye play any instruments?”

Fiona swallowed. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “But Niall, I am not a bard. My grandmother—” She paused. “—now that seems difficult to comprehend. Anyway, she taught me to play the harp at a very young age. Truthfully, I’m extremely shy. I don’t like to be around people.”

“Most bards prefer to watch, listen, and document. Ye should speak with Kevan.” Taking her hand, Niall guided her to the others with Maeve following behind.

Everyone had gathered, and Fiona saw Alastair at the front with Gunnar. His back was facing her, but she could tell immediately from his posture he was ready to depart. Gunnar gave her a slight smile before turning around. He leaned close and said something to Alastair, but the man didn’t respond.

“Are ye ready, Fiona?” asked Desmond, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Giving Niall one last hug, she let Desmond help her mount her horse. The axe was strapped on the back, and she had a slight tremor of anticipation. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can return.”

“We shall return by the Harvest Moon, Fiona,” stated Desmond.

“Harvest Moon, late September,” she said quietly. Such a long time, she thought, when an airplane could have transported her there in a few hours.

As their party moved away from the village, Fiona took one more glance over her shoulder at Niall. Her heart gave a sudden lurch realizing anything could happen to either of them in those two months. She gave him one final wave, seeing the reflection of her feelings on his face. In that moment, Fiona said a silent prayer to whatever God or Goddess he worshipped, that they would keep him and Brian safe until she returned.

Chapter Nineteen

“The stars are the compass for the Fae. If they have been altered, it will shift not one world, but thousands.”

“What is wrong, Fiona?” asked Desmond, returning from Alastair’s ship after loading their belongings. Wiping a hand across his forehead, he moved to stand next to her.

She glanced away, hoping he hadn’t noticed her discomfort. “It’s nothing.”

Her brother stepped directly in front of her, eyeing her skeptically. “We have been traveling these many days together, and I can already read ye, Fiona. Ye are troubled.”

“Really?” she drawled, continuing to focus on the ship and one man in particular.

Peering over his shoulder, Desmond frowned. “Does this have anything to do with the MacKay? Has he done or said anything to cause ye pain?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Honestly, Desmond, stop thinking all my misery is centered on one person. I know you don’t like him, but he is not the cause. You’re as overprotective as Niall and Brian.”

Desmond arched a brow in question. “Overprotective?”

Her irritation rose at having to constantly explain her words to him. “Yes. It means you worry and fret too much.”

“Aye. As your brother, ’tis my duty to defend ye. I do not like this journey ye are on with the MacKay. He has done naught but scowl at ye whenever he gets a chance. We hardly saw him at the table of the MacGuinnes.”

Chuckling softly, she nudged her foot at a pebble. “You forget Alastair saved me from a fate far worse. He is probably miserable making this journey, instead of being on his merry way with his men. You can’t fault him for that.”

“Sweet Brigid! This is his mess and for some fool reason, we have all been pulled into it. I have to tell ye I do not like this.”

The wind whipped past Fiona, and her thoughts turned back toward the ship and the sea. She clutched her stomach not relishing the idea of being back on board. How did she think she would be able to survive such a long journey? She was crazy to accept the axe, agreeing to take it home.
Mind over pain, Fiona. You have no choice.
She gave him a quick glance. “I can assure you, Desmond, there is nothing wrong. Just let it be.”

Desmond started to say something, but they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil…”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

“Ye might want to chew on these with a bit of wine before we depart,” said Alastair holding out a pouch and wine skin.

Taking the items, Fiona mumbled her thanks avoiding her brother’s eyes.

Giving her his signature curt nod, Alastair strode back toward the ship. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him—stunned he would even think of her comfort. But didn’t he suffer the same? Why would a man choose to live at sea if he detested it?

“What is it?” asked Desmond, taking the pouch from her hands and sniffing its contents. “Mint?” His eyes narrowed. “Pray tell me ye do not suffer from traveling the seas?”

Fiona snatched it back. “I believe there is another herb mixed in with the mint.” Holding up the wine skin, she added, “It works wonders with some wine.”

“Sweet Mother,” he hissed. “That is what’s troubling ye? We are going on a sea journey, and ye do not fare well?” He rubbed a hand across his face in frustration. “If Niall had known—”

Fiona cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It’s not important. I will just have to grin and bear the situation.” Seeing the look of confusion on his face, she added, “Let me rephrase, I’ll just tolerate it as best I can. The wine and herbs will help.”

Sitting down on a boulder, she opened the pouch and pulled out a small amount of the herbs. Chewing them slowly, her gaze continued to watch the one man that perplexed her. Taking a swallow of the wine, Fiona let the effects of both calm her unsteady nerves.

Silently, Desmond came over and placed a strong arm on her shoulder. His strength filled her, and she closed her eyes. Fiona didn’t want to think of how long it would take to cross the sea. Only one thought filtered through her mind—Scotland and returning the axe to its home.

Her eyes snapped open.
Where was its home in the Great Glen?

****

Alastair lifted his face to the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun. They had reached Glenroth in ten days. A feat even he was surprised to bring about. The winds had pushed them heavily on their course and at times, the men relied on the sail most days. With their added crew and weight, the ship glided through the seas with little effort.

Now they were here—back on Scottish soil.

Scratching at his heavy beard, he was looking forward to reaching land and shaving it off. Propping a leg up on the side of the ship, he cast his gaze out toward the harbor. His nerves tingled, anticipating the first step. It was not the land that spoke to him, as it was his own home—it was another. He deemed he could never return to Urquhart—a vow he made to himself. But the idea of traveling nearby a place that had brought happiness for most of his life left a hollow ache within his chest, which was why he chose to escort Fiona to the Great Glen. A chance to purge and cleanse his relic, and he could only think of one way. She may not be happy with his plan, yet he saw no other solution. He had many days over which to ponder and make ready his idea.

If the relic was no longer his, then no one should have it and one place it belonged—in the depths of Loch Ness.

Alastair sensed her before he heard her footsteps. She had been a brave one on their journey. Not one grievance passed from those lips. He did notice her color returning when Steiner had pointed out land in the distance. However, she continued to eye him warily, and he had felt her keen look often on their voyage. It certainly was not one of fear, and he continued to be baffled by her attempts to initiate conversation.

“Glenroth,” he said quietly keeping his focus on the land.

She moved to stand beside him, watching the land as well. “Yes, Steiner told me.”

“Will ye be ready to depart at dawn’s light in two days?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance.

Instantly, he saw her chin lift as if in defiance. “After ten days aboard this horrible craft, I will be in heaven on a horse.
On land
.” She smiled and turned fully toward him. “Won’t you be, too?”

Alastair clenched his jaw tightly to keep the smile from forming on his lips. Blast the lass for seeing right through him.

She dared to move closer, and then took a finger and poked at his chest. “Come on, do tell the truth.”

He saw the mirth in her eyes, and he hesitated in his answer to her. Finally taking a deep breath, Alastair looked away crossing his arms over his chest. “Nae. Love the sea.”

“Liar,” she said softly.

This time Alastair coughed into his hand to silence the brimming laughter from spilling forth.

“Don’t try to laugh too hard,” she chided. “You might choke.”

In the end, Alastair just shook his head…smiling.

They both stood in silence, watching as the ship edged closer to the harbor. Relief probably surged through the men, too, knowing they would be at Glenroth. A night of rest, ale, food, and good wenching. The men certainly deserved a night to themselves.

For when the morning dawned, they would be off to Mull.

“They say Scotland is a rugged beauty,” said Fiona, keeping her sight on the coast.

He glanced her way, noticing how the sun danced off her raven locks. His fingers itched to wrap one around his finger.
Just one.
Fisting his hand, he turned away. “’Tis a beauty, indeed.” But his reply did not have anything to do with the land.

The ship lurched, and Fiona lost her balance. Her hands splayed outwards, but before she could react, Alastair had her in his arms. “We would not want ye to fall overboard, now would we?”

Her eyes went wide as a flush crept up her face. “I wouldn’t like that.”

By the hounds, she felt good in his arms. He could feel a tremor course through her, and he knew it was not fear. She licked her lips, and he ached to capture the moisture on her bottom lip.

“Is there a problem?” demanded Desmond. The scowl on his face was one to let Alastair know he was not pleased to see his sister in his arms.

Alastair gritted his teeth, slowly releasing his hold on Fiona as her hand brushed lightly over his.

Before he could respond to Desmond’s remark, she met his eyes and stated, “No problem. I just slipped and Alastair caught me.”

Seeing the smile forming on her lips, Alastair gave her a nod.

“Humph! It might be wiser to sit until we reach land.” Desmond proceeded to grasp her elbow and steer her away.

When she took her seat, Alastair could not help but notice the rosy blush still staining her cheeks. She caught his stare and held it before finally looking away.

In that moment, Alastair realized Fiona O’Quinlan posed a serious threat to not just his beast, but also for the man he had buried long ago.

Chapter Twenty

“If on a clear sunny day you encounter the mists, be careful you do not step through. For the Summerland may beckon you.”

“Eric will not be pleased,” complained Gunnar, hauling what was left of Fiona’s items onto the deck.

Alastair grunted in understanding. “Make the deal and come back to Glenroth. It will be a quick journey. If all goes to my plan, we will be returning by the second full moon.”

Gunnar rubbed at his neck. “Two moons is a long time. The men will be uneasy.”

“The men will have plenty to occupy themselves.” Alastair watched as a raven flew past some trees. An eerie feeling crept over him as he watched the bird. Was the Morrigan watching over him? There was a time when he did not pay attention to the omens. He had once tried to alter the course of destiny. It had cost him dearly.

The wind shifted, and the raven took flight.

He turned and faced Gunnar, choosing his words slowly as if they had a mind of their own. “If I do not return by then, ye will depart for your homeland. The ship…is yours.”