A Warrior's Perception (17 page)

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Authors: Spring Stevens

BOOK: A Warrior's Perception
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Aye, he has,

answered Kagan,

I ha'e come for…


Me thinks me knows what ye come fer,

he chuckled cutting Kagan’s sentence off,

but me thinks not to give it to ye just yet.

Kagan gripped his hilt and stared at the man's long narrow face,

And pray tell why na?


Me thinks that the beauty needs ta know ye want her else she may flee ye side and find another,

he pointed his long finger up to the sky,

And that is not the way the gods see ta ye future. She be ye mate that ye be waitin' fer all these years.

Kagan paced before Haggart,

I can'na resist her temptations much longer.


Ye be resisting her fer four long years now, what do weeks matter now?

Kagan shook his head as the old man’s outlandish accent echoed in his mind. He had known Haggart all of his life but there were times that he seemed like a complete stranger.


I did ‘na ha'e to be confined so close to her 'fore,

he growled,

She seduces e'ery inch of my body and teases me beyond reason and sanity.


So much like her ma she is,

Haggart's bright eyes dimmed,

Has the fire of gods coursing
through
her tender veins and the sweetness of orchids upon her lips.


She is arrogant and self-centered and independent and seductive and,

he grunted,

and she is more than any woman should be. Her spirit is strong and damn near untamable.

Haggart laughed,

Met ye match have ye?


How can I hope to break her if I can'na touch her?

he asked in frustration.


Touch her heart ye foolish boy, that is where her love lies,

he whispered.

Once ye win her heart, ye will win her body and soul.


Nay, her heart is stone and her eyes are torturous orbs of fire,

he replied as he ran his hand through his thick black hair,

She comes to me in my dreams and I always loose the battle.

Haggart smiled and nodded in mute understanding even though Kagan himself did not comprehend what his subconscious had been trying to tell for the last year. Kagan took a deep breath and walked into the house behind Haggart. He dumped his large body down into the high backed chair at the round granite table in the middle of the dark warm room.


Tell me old man, what does my future hold?

Haggart eased into his cushioned chair and smiled as he placed his hand onto the giant pearlized orb in the center of the table. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. Kagan had never asked to see his future nor had he ever wanted Haggart's advice.


Ever man has two futures, two roads that he must choose between, but occasionally there is born a man who has to let someone else choose his path. His destiny is not his own, it lies in the palm of another. Tis good ye know me, fer I know who holds ye future and it is she who will decide which road ye take.


Old man, ye talk in riddles...of things that can'na be, I will decide my own future! I am Laird and warrior, I let na man decide for me what is to be done,

he growled in denial,

My path is clear, I will marry and ha'e babes to fill the halls of McKregan Keep!

Haggart leaned back into his chair and wrapped his fingers around the orb,

Ye will bow to another and ye stubborn back will bend to destiny’s design or ye shall suffer consequences that will tear ye heart asunder!

Kagan’s dark laughter filled the room,

I bow to na man, na e'en the King of Scotland!

Haggart stood and slammed his fist down onto the table,

Ye will bow and ye future will be blessed, ye foolish boy!


Tell ye gods I will make my own destiny,

he chuckled at Haggart's agitation,

That Dagma guides my sword but na my path.


Ye be stubborn and arrogant,

his eyes twinkled as a devilishly knowing grin spread across his face,

Time will be ye enemy and soft trails of honey hair will be ye undoing.


Ye were always a thorn in my father's side, now I understand why,

Kagan commented,

Ye battle with words 'stead of steel, a great feat for few men who stand 'fore McKregan flesh.

Haggart roared in laughter at his young friend,

Prepare ye McKregan, best ye learn how ta battle words in ye current predicament. Me thinks ye will not win with the woman whom springs from Vacrey Isle.

Kagan silenced as he stewed upon Haggart’s words. Vacrey Isle was a legend, nothing more, a yarn spun to children to lighten their hearts at bedtime. An island run by women, beautiful lush women, with ill will towards men and the strength of bears upon their chest. As a youth, Kagan would fantasize finding the island and ravishing all those beauties, as most young men did. Kagan grinned; Andra would surely fit among the woman he had filled his fantasies about.


Ye think it a myth?

Haggart asked as he eyed Kagan.


Women of that nature could'na exist unprotected and isolated from the world,

he answered,

Tis a Fae tale that women tell children at night when the wind howls.

Haggart chuckled,

Tis not myth me friend. Me have often lain upon Vacrey shores and indulged rare fruit from the hands of such women.


Then by all Dagma could offer, show me where this isle is!

Kagan joked as his friend reached into the folds of his long tunic.

Haggart handed Kagan a small circle of gold and silver, engraved symbols ran around its surface and a unicorn pawed at the air in its center. It was a charming piece, meant to be worn around a woman's neck or sewn onto a woman's bodice as an adornment. Kagan turned it over and examined its intricate details. The back was etched with butterflies and orchids. A very skilled metalworker had taken great pains to highlight the soft rolling hills and flowering trees in the background.

He tossed the trinket back to Haggart and smiled,

Proves nothin’.


Where do ye think Demon came from?

He asked in amusement.

Think ye he fell from the arms of Dagma, noticed not he is a rare specimen? Where have ye ever seen a horse like him? Ye will not unless ye step upon Vacrey Isle where he was bred from the tallest, mightiest, and smartest of his breed. Vacrey women are drawn to their strength and intelligence and have an uncanny ability to read the creature's mind.


Ye words fall on deaf ears, I will'na belie'e in such fae tales, bah!  Women breedin' horse flesh and rulin' o'er others. Ye are mad in ye old age!


Think to ye oath, tis it not possible more like her live,

Haggart chuckled,

Think she not bred from Vacrey soil.

Kagan laughed,

She is a Duncan. Strong blood from her father courses her veins!


True, but her mother, JaQuay, was Queen of Vacrey Isle and she passed her bloodline to ye woman.

Kagan grinned,

If she was a queen's daughter, she would'na stand to ha’e been treated so unjustly and would defy all...

His words were lost as his thoughts took over.

Haggart raised his long bushy brow,

All men's will? She would make men bend ta hers? She would serve punishment at the end of a sword's blade with unwavering hand? She would make a proud strong man take an oath, knowing he would break it, to conquer him in his act of dishonor? Would she not even defy your god?

Kagan stood and growled,

How is it ye know such things? How is it ye reach into my mind and pull my thoughts out like blades of grass? Is there na secret safe from ye old man?

Haggart turned to the door and gracefully took his leave of the bewildered laird, laying a bracelet on the granite table as he passed it on his leave. Kagan picked it up and held it to the light of the orb. It was etched with horses and butterflies. It was small, a child's bracelet.

Inside on the sleek surface it read
Ell'andra Jaqualine Duncan, born this day to Queen JaQuay and Adalie Duncan on Vacrey Isle in presence of fae court, blessed be this child of strength.

Kagan placed the bracelet into his sporran and followed Haggart outside. He was whispering to Demon and Kagan was eerily thrown back through time to the stable at Shinonoble. Honey and vanilla filled his nostrils and his knees trembled. Kagan cursed and grabbed the quilt.


Ell'andra tis a strong strand in destiny's web and me have been overlooking her stay in hopes she would return ta Vacrey Isle,

he sighed,

But her father refused ta let that piece of JaQuay slip through his fingers.

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