My Lady Mage: A Warriors of the Mist Novel Page 9

  Merewen would not be the only one relieved if Fagan were to disappear from her life. As much as she hated the thought of losing her last blood relative, the world would certainly be a better place without him in it.

  But back to Alina. Early that morning, Merewen had made a quick trip out to the cottage with supplies for the warriors. She’d returned to spend most of the day helping Jarod out in the stables and studying the plans they’d been making for the next year’s crop of foals.

  She’d also been counting down the hours until Averel and Murdoch would approach the keep, the first to seek employment with her uncle. As preoccupied as she’d been, it was possible she’d simply missed seeing her aunt over the past two days, but she doubted it.

  The cook came bustling over, her face red and sweaty from standing over the fire. “Is he out there? Shall we serve?”

  Ellie made a point of never uttering Fagan’s name if she could help it. She’d been the previous cook’s assistant when Merewen’s father and Fagan were small boys. He’d been a much different person back then, and she refused to acknowledge that the man who’d returned to the manor was even the same man.

  “I will check.”

  When she stepped out into the great hall, Fagan was just then coming down the steps. Alina was right behind him, once again moving slowly. Obviously the bastard had hurt her again.

  “If your uncle sees you looking at him like that, he will not be pleased. Perhaps I should go tell him and offer to teach you to show some respect.”

  The threat in Olaf’s deep voice was all too real, but Merewen did not bother to ask him to hold his tongue. He was just as likely to agree and then tell Fagan anyway. Olaf had learned from a master all the ways to torment those around him.

  Rather than respond, she returned to the kitchen to order the food brought out. By the time Fagan had reached his seat, she already had the first course served and his drink poured.

  Everything seemed to be going smoothly, when Alina lost her balance and stumbled into her husband.

  When Fagan’s soup spilled down the front of his tunic, he immediately lurched to his feet and dragged his wife back up off the floor. “I’ll teach you to be so clumsy.”

  He backhanded her across her face. Before he could strike her again, Merewen had circled the table to latch onto his arm. She wouldn’t stand by and watch Alina further abused even if it brought her uncle’s wrath down on her own head.

  He froze midmotion, staring at her white-knuckled grip on his wrist. “Merewen, I warned you what would happen the next time you interfered.”

  But before he could carry out his promise, one of the guards entered the hall at a run. He skidded to a halt in front of the high table and executed a rough bow. “Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord, but two riders are at the gate, seeking work as men-at-arms. You asked to be notified if any likely prospects came seeking jobs.”

  Merewen didn’t blame the poor man for reminding her uncle that he had issued the orders, because Fagan was never happy to have his meal interrupted. He immediately released his wife, not caring at all that she slumped to the floor in a boneless heap. As soon as he did, Merewen let go of his wrist and stepped back. She would see to her aunt as soon as her uncle left.

  Unfortunately, he had other plans. “Have them brought before me immediately.”

  Then he gave Merewen a look that froze her to the bone. “Get her up off the floor, and then stand right there. I have had enough of your insolence and will deal with you myself after I talk to these two.”

  Alina had managed to push herself upright, but it took most of Merewen’s strength to keep her aunt standing. Merewen motioned for one of the servants to bring a damp cloth so she could wipe the trickle of blood off her aunt’s cut lip. She was still tending to Alina’s injuries when the guards escorted Murdoch and Averel into the hall.

  She delayed looking in their direction until they were standing before the high table. Her great worry was that if they realized what was going on, one or both would feel obligated to intercede on her behalf. While she had no doubt that each in his own right was a fearsome warrior, they were greatly outnumbered in the hall.

  It was unlikely that they would be able to rescue both her and Alina and still defend themselves long enough to escape. Sure enough, when she finally glanced toward Murdoch, she could feel his fury. A quick peek in Averel’s direction confirmed that he, too, was fighting the need to draw his sword.

  She hoped her uncle would assume their edginess was due to being brought before the lord of the manor and being surrounded by heavily armed men.

  “I have been given to believe that you are both seeking employment.”

  As the elder of the two, Murdoch answered. “Yes, my lord. My name is Sir Murdoch, and my companion is Sir Averel.”

  “Let me see your weapons.” When both men hesitated, he gave them a disgusted look. “I hope you are normally better at taking orders. I find you can tell a lot about a man by the quality of his weapons.”

  Both men drew their swords and held them out for Fagan’s inspection. He gave them a cursory study. “Those are exceptionally fine weapons for two such as you. Are you any good with them?”

  Murdoch’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I have some talent with swords, sir. I’ve done my share of teaching others how to fight, including my young friend here.”

  “Very well, you may put your weapons away for now. I’m a fair hand with a blade myself. I’ll see how you do in the morning during weapons practice before I make my final decision.

  Fagan next turned his attention toward the younger man. “And what do you have to offer me besides your ability to fight?”

  Rather than answer directly, Averel let loose with a loud whistle.

  “What are you about?” Fagan demanded, but the warrior simply cocked his head to one side as if listening. A noise near the door signaled the arrival of a pair of immense dogs that headed straight for Averel.

  Merewen could scarce believe her eyes, but she wasn’t the only one in the hall staring in wide-eyed wonder at the dogs making their way to their owner. One was black and the other white, but otherwise they were almost identical in height and build. She’d never seen such beasts in all of her life.

  Fagan studied the dogs with a greedy light in his eyes. He prided himself in breeding some of the best hunting dogs in the duke’s realm. Was he already trying to decide which of his bitches to mate with this pair? What would Averel have to say about that?

  The dogs calmly flanked their owner. Averel patted each one on the head as Fagan moved in closer to study them.

  “I’ve never seen their kind before. What are they good for?”

  “Running. Hunting.” The young warrior’s eyes took on a definite chill. “Fighting, too, if I ask it of them.”

  As if to illustrate that point, both dogs yawned loudly, flashing two impressive sets of teeth. Her uncle had been about to reach toward the white dog, but quickly pulled his hand back.

  Meanwhile, Murdoch was still studying Alina, his pale eyes clearly taking note of the fresh handprint on her cheek. Luckily, Fagan was too entranced with the dogs to notice the warrior’s attention was focused elsewhere.

  Fagan retreated out of reach of the dogs. “I will talk with you both about your duties in the morning. Until then, you may join us for the evening meal. Olaf here will show you where to sleep.”

  “Thank you, my lord. That is most generous of you.”

  Murdoch backed away but had to tug on Averel’s sleeve to get him to do the same. Clearly he understood the danger they’d all be in if they were to attack her uncle at the moment. She could only hope that he’d manage to hold back should her uncle decide to punish her in front of everyone.

  Fagan had done it before.

  But, to her surprise, he seemed to have forgotten about it. “Merewen, where are your manners? Please let the cook know that we have guests.”

  Alina had recovered enough to stand on her own. After she had quietly taken
her seat, this time without mishap, Merewen left to do her uncle’s bidding.

  Regardless of what the night brought, the battle to free her people had started even if her uncle had no idea that he was under attack. She took great comfort from that notion.

  Chapter 8

  Gideon’s patience was at an end. When he’d sent Scim to follow after Murdoch and Averel, all he learned was that they had made it safely to Merewen’s family keep. Nothing more. That Murdoch and Averel would be able to defend themselves went without question, even if it became necessary to fight their way clear of Fagan and his men.

  No, it was their ability to protect Merewen that had Gideon all tied up in knots. Feeling this way was ridiculous. His men had never failed him in all the long years of their service together.

  Early this morning he’d sent Scim winging toward Merewen’s home a second time, hoping he would spot his friends so they could send back news with his avatar. Ever since the previous evening, he’d had this powerful compulsion to reassure himself that Merewen was safe.

  He’d been resting when the strangest sensation that Merewen was in danger had washed over him. The feeling had passed as quickly as it had come but left him unsettled. He’d always felt a connection with the person the gods had sent him to serve, but this time was different. Stronger. More personal.

  So far, all he’d been able to see through Scim’s eyes was a distant view of Fagan’s men at weapons practice in the bailey. Frustrated, he’d finally broken off the link, leaving Scim free to hunt if he so desired.

  Right now Gideon could use some practice himself, anything to work off the burn of worry. Duncan had gone hunting, so that left Gideon one potential partner. “Get your sword, Kane.”

  His friend was brushing Rogue again, leaving the gray’s coat gleaming in the bright sun. Gideon would have cheerfully done the same for Kestrel, but the stallion had disappeared earlier in the morning. Before charging off, he’d come to an abrupt halt in front of Gideon, stomping his forefoot and shaking his head.

  On some level, Gideon knew the horse was promising to return. No doubt he needed to check on his mares. All things considered, he had a newfound sympathy for the stallion. They both were away from the women in their lives, and the not knowing was worrisome.

  Not that Merewen was Gideon’s, not in the same sense. However, she was his responsibility. That much was true, or at least as much of the truth as he was willing to admit right now.

  Meanwhile, Kane continued polishing that damned horse’s hide. “I said for you to get your sword.”

  Kane finally stopped to look at Gideon, his eyes seeing far too much. “Any reason I should let you take your temper out on me? It is not my fault that Lady Merewen is there and you are not. Murdoch and Averel will watch over her.”

  The man knew Gideon all too well. And leave it to his friend to be blunt. “I know they will, but there is far more wrong than just her uncle’s greed. Until I learn more about what it is that you sense, I cannot plan how to fight against it.”

  Kane joined him in leaning against the side of the cottage to stare up at the morning sun, as if the answers were all written up there in the blue sky. Gideon endured the silence, knowing he wasn’t going to much like whatever Kane was struggling to put into words.

  Finally, he spoke, his accent rougher than usual. “This calling feels strange to me. Certainly you’re different this time.”

  Gideon did not argue the point. He was more interested in what Kane was thinking.

  “Explain.”

  “In the past, you’ve shown little interest in those we were called to protect. You assessed the situation and then used us as your weapons to put the evil to rest. It mattered not for whom we fought but only that we fought.”

  Gideon felt obliged to point out the obvious. “That is the duty given to us by the gods. That is why we are called from the river—to fight evil and protect the weak.”

  In his head, he added, And why we then stand side by side to face judgment again, each time hoping, praying it will be the final time. That at long last my friends and I will know peace.

  Even though he didn’t utter the words, Kane knew what he was thinking. They’d been friends far too long for Gideon to hide much from him. Although Gideon wanted this unending damnation to end for all four of his friends, he wanted it most for Kane, whose life had never been easy. That Gideon’s thoughtless actions had only made it worse was a guilt he would carry to the grave.

  If he ever had one.

  Once again Kane read him as easily as Duncan did all of those manuscripts he loved to pore over. “I made the choice to stand beside you, Gideon. I have had far too few friends in my lifetime to allow you to face this curse alone.”

  Then Kane grinned, the resulting sight never exactly reassuring. “Besides, my friend and I have always loved a good fight. This one promises to be worthy of a warrior’s blood.”

  Gideon was about to order Kane one last time to fetch his sword when he spotted something high in the sky. Scim was soaring high overhead, slowly making his way down and waiting for Gideon to take notice. He stepped away from Kane and held his arm out at shoulder height, bracing himself to take the bird’s weight.

  That was all the encouragement Scim needed, and he immediately went into a sharp dive. He’d dropped only a short distance when a bright flash of light streaked across the sky to hit the bird. Scim screamed as he pulled up and tried to wing his way back up into the sky.

  “What just happened?” Gideon asked, not expecting an answer.

  A second flash of light followed the second. Both men watched in horror as, between one heartbeat and the next, the falcon crumpled in the air and plummeted back toward the ground. Gideon took off running, at the same time reaching out to Scim with his thoughts and hoping to share his strength with his avatar.

  Down and down Scim fell, fighting to regain control. His movements were far too sluggish to slow his descent. Bound as he was to the bird, Gideon could feel Scim’s fear and taste his pain, slowing his own movements and making it hard to put one foot in front of the other as he struggled to reach the injured bird.

  Kane caught Gideon’s arm when he stumbled and almost plunged headfirst to the ground. He managed to keep them both upright, but just barely. Kane jerked Gideon to a stop and forced him to look in his direction instead of at the impending tragedy in the sky.

  “Captain, cut off your tie with Scim. Now, before it is too late.”

  Gideon fought to break free of Kane’s grasp, needing to reach the falcon. “He’s hurt. He could die.”

  “And if he does, he’ll take you with him unless you break the link between your minds right now. The gods have given you a job to do. Your duty to them comes first.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Then care about Lady Merewen and what will happen to her if we fail—if you fail. Would you condemn her to wander in the darkness with us?”

  His words were getting through as much as Gideon wanted to deny their truth. It took some effort, but he closed his mind to Scim, barely managing to break free from the tangle of their thoughts. Echoes of the bird’s fury faded in Gideon’s head. Kane released him to charge toward where Scim was about to hit the ground.

  At the last second, the big bird burned the last of his strength to catch just enough air under his wings to slow his fall. He still hit the ground hard, but even from a distance Gideon could see Scim struggling to stand up.

  That didn’t mean he would survive. An injured bird couldn’t hunt. Gideon could provide game for Scim to eat, but what if he could no longer fly? It would be far kinder to put Scim down now before he suffered such a fate, even if it would destroy a part of Gideon he would never get back.

  Both men slowed down, Kane stopping short of reaching their destination. Gideon appreciated his friend’s forethought. Although Scim was well acquainted with the warrior, he tolerated others only because Gideon asked it of him. Right now, in pain and hurt, Kane’s presence would only add anoth
er layer of strain.

  “I’ll fetch your shield.”

  Gideon managed to nod as he crooned soothing words full of promises of comfort and prayers for the healing touch of the gods. As he chanted, he eased closer to his feathered companion, not wanting to startle the bird. Scim had managed to stand, but he was holding his right wing at an awkward angle, dragging it on the ground as he half limped and half hopped toward Gideon.

  Rather than guess at the full nature of the injuries, Gideon cautiously reopened the link that would join their minds. The first wave of pain almost knocked him out. How could Scim remain standing in the face of such agony?

  Finally, the gyrfalcon stopped struggling, instead waiting for Gideon to come to him. Already Scim’s eyes looked dull. Whether it was due to the pain or to death’s stealing the spark from his gaze was impossible to say.

  If only the bird could hold on until Kane returned, Gideon would chant the simple spell that would return Scim to the shield. With luck, the act of returning the falcon to the sanctuary of the shield would keep him stable until nightfall. Both the Damned and their avatars healed faster after sundown, a gift from their gods. As they waited, Gideon knelt on the ground and pulled the bird gently into his arms.

  Scim struggled against the embrace, using up even more of his waning strength.

  “Hush, boy. Stay calm.”

  But Scim continued to fight, finally snapping at Gideon’s fingers with his beak, but not with his full strength. It was as if he were trying to convey a message. Once again, Gideon linked with the bird’s thoughts, this time fighting through the waves of pain to see what it was Scim was trying to show Gideon.

  His leg—was it broken, too? Gideon slid his hands gently over Scim’s body, keeping his touch light as he felt for wounds. Instead, he found a note tied to Scim’s leg. He located the end of the string and worked it free. A small scrap of paper dropped into his hand. As soon as Gideon had it in his grasp, Scim fell against him, his mission complete.