Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief (4 page)

“She’s a bit plain,” Ian said.

Plain was safer.

“Talk about lasses swooning,” Faelan said with a grin. “Marna does look a bit faint whenever Tavis walks by.”

“Her cheeks get pink,” Alana said.

“There’s nothing between me and Marna.” For the moment. But at twenty-two, an open offer from someone he knew wasn’t a demon was quite a temptation. Tavis swatted Alana lightly on the shoulder. “You wee devil.”

Their mother and father joined them. Ma threw her arms around Faelan then stepped back and kissed his cheeks. “All my lads
home safe,” she said, beaming.

Da clapped Faelan on
the back. “Welcome home, son.”

Alana looked at Da’s shirt and kilt, the latter which bore a suspicious brown spot, and she wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“I’ve been showing the horses.”

“Well, do you think you might change into something nicer for the portrait?”

“Portrait?” His face fell. “Now? But the games
...
” He traile
d off when he saw Alana’s pout.

“We’re never home at the same time,” she pleaded. “Last ti
me you all promised
next time
.”

“Aye,” Da said, sighing. “Let’s wait a bit. Wallace MacIntosh is talking his nonsense again. Any one of you could beat that jackass at throwing a knife. Do you lads have your throwing knives?”

“Aye,” they all echoed. Da couldn’t stand Wallace MacIntosh any more than
Tavis and his brothers could.

“He is a
n ill-mannered lout,” Ma said.

“Just like his mother and father,” Alana said.

“Alana,” Ma scolded.

Alana shrugged and tried to look innocent. “That’s what I heard you tell Da.”

“I swear your ears are the s
ize of your head,” Ma muttered.

“Come on,” Ian said, taking Alana’s arm. “Let’s go put Wally boy in his place. I’ll
wager you could out throw him.”

Faelan sent Nandor off with Kieran, and the family made their way slowly through the crowd, stopping often as people welcomed Faelan home. They approached the field where the knife throwing was about to begin. The
horse’s arse
was preening before a small group that had gathered. Wallace MacIntosh was fair-headed with muscle running toward fat and pig eyes that darted back and forth when he was nervous. He looked up and saw the Connor brothers coming an
d his gloating smile vanished.

After the Connor brothers beat Wallace, and Faelan had been welcomed by nearly every person visiting, the family grudgingly let Alana position them underneath a tree while she made the first rough sketch for a portrait. She was uncommonly talented for a child her age, but everyone was tired, and sitting was the last thing any of them wanted to do. Da fussed because he had spotted a man he thought was interested in one of the new horses, and Ian was withering at starvation’s door. Faelan stared off in the distance saying nothing, and Tavis rubbed his battle marks and pondered what his brother might be hiding. They all fidgeted until Ma and Alana were ready to kill them. Finally, Alana announced that she was finished, and ther
e was a mad scramble to escape.

Faelan vanished like a ghost while Tavis tried to avoid Marna, who was making hand gestures to get his attention. He was so focused on this that he was waylaid by a group of lasses who were obv
iously hoping to find husbands.

The crowds were thinning when he finally made his way through the tents in search of Faelan. Some people were retiring to their rooms in the castle or the cottages, and others, who had pitched tents along the edge of the field, were laughing and jesting as they recounted and exaggerated the events of the day. Marna trapped him in the stables, her eyes bright with invitation. “I saw you throwing out there,” she said, stepping closer to Tavis. “You’re the best with a knife, you know.”

“Thank you,” Tavis said, wishing she would go away before he lost control
and took what she was offering.

“I don’t know why everyone fusses over Faelan when you’re so
...
” Marna blushed, making her look quite fetching. The sight distracted him long enough for her to bump up against him. Thinking she must have stumbled, for it wasn’t like her to make so bold a move, he quickly jumped back to spare her embarrassment and forgot about the trough behind him. He fell over backwards into the hay, and his kilt flew up past his thighs. He wasn’t sure how much she saw, but whatever it was inspired her to leap on top of
him and press her lips to his.

He tried to dodge her, but her hands were all over him. The experience might have been pleasurable if not for the fact that he needed to talk to Faelan, and
there was hay poking his arse.

In the midst of this calamity, who should walk in but Faelan and Ian? They stared for a moment
and then broke out in grins.

Marna jumped up, her face red as a strawberry, and rushed out like a scalded cat, leaving Tavis sprawled in the hay with his kilt nearly inside out, feeling like he
’d gotten caught in a stampede.

“Bloody hell! Don’t just stand there, help me up,” Tavis said.

Still grinning, Faelan and Ian gra
bbed hold of Tavis’
hands and yanked him up.

“Is this the best place you could find for a tryst?” Ian asked.

“It wasn’t a tryst,” Tavis said, extracting hay from places it didn’t belong, which caused his brothers to laugh so hard they had to sit down. “It was more like an assault.”

“On her or you?” Faelan asked.

“I fell. She assaulted.”

“You fell?” Ian said, wiping his eyes. “And she fell on top of you?”

“Leaped is more like it. I think she crushed my bollocks. No fear that either of you will become uncles anytime soon.”

After he’d put himself—and the hay—back where it belonged, he and his brothers went inside for supper. Ma was elated to have them all at the table, and Alana
talked until Tavis’ ears hurt.

After a long supper, Faelan disappeared again. He was probably seeing to Nandor. Tavis started for the stables when he spotted Faelan walking toward the graveyard. Tavis followed at a distance and watched as Faelan entered the final resting place for generations of Connors. Faelan sat down between two headstones. Tavis couldn’t remember whose they were, maybe the grandparents. Faelan rested his hands on his knees and stared at the sky where the moon was j
ust peeking above the treetops.

Ian stepped out from behind a nearby tree. “What’s he doing?”

“Bollocks, you startled me. What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you. Trying to figure out what he’s not telling us. What’s he doing
? Measuring out his gravesite?”

“I don’t know, but something’s wrong.”

“Let’s get it out of him.” Ian started to go.

“Wait. I think he’s leaving.” Faelan had stood. He looked around the graveyard once more and then slowly left. Staying out of sight, Tavis and Ian followed him down the hillside and past the stables where a few stragglers—but no Marna
...
thankfully—lingered from the day’s events, looking over the horses. The Connors raised the fastest and strongest horses around, and several deals had been made during the games. They nodded greetings but kept moving. At the front door, Faelan he
sitated, his hand on the knob.

“Spying on your brother, aye?” asked a voice behind Tavis.

He turned and saw Kieran. “Something’s troubling him,” Tavis said. “Don’t suppose you know what it might be.”

Kieran’s expression didn’t change. “I might. But best let him tell it.” Kieran moved on toward the cottage where he usually stayed.

Tavis and Ian went inside and found Faelan standing in the kitchen door, watching their father and mother and Alana who were laughing at something Da had said. Alana sat at the table running her finger over the letters Ian had carved in the wood years before, and looking suspiciously like she wanted to put hers there too. Faelan looked like
he wanted to be someplace else.

Ma turned and saw him. She held out her hand. “Come and sit.” H
er smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to leave,” Faelan said.

“Leave?” She frowned. “But you just got home.”

“I’ve been assigned another demon.”

“Another one,” Da said. “So soon?”

Tavis’
battle marks felt like fire under his skin. “What demon?”

Faelan took too long answering, and Tavis knew it wouldn’t be good. But he couldn’t have
predicted how bad it would be.

“Onwar.”

Their father was the first to find his voice. “There must be some mistake.”

Faelan rubbed a hand over his face. “Michael came last night.”

“Onwar? Isn’t he one of the ancient demons
?” Alana asked, her eyes round.

Everyone knew the names of the ancient demons, but warriors didn’t battle them. They were too powerful for mere humans. Michael handled them just as he did the first order of demons who only operated on a spiritual plane. The second order, the full demons, as well as halflings, were the ones assigned to warriors. Ancient demons were of the second order but they had grown so powerful they were approaching immortality. An ancient demon hadn’t been assigned to a warrior
since the seventeenth century.

Ma’s face was pale, save for two bright spots that stood out on her cheeks. “You can’t fight an ancient demon. You can’t.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve already lost one son.”

Da touched her shoulders in a comforting gesture, but his hands were shaking. “Tell us what happened.”

Faelan had gotten the order from Michael on the journey home. Onwar was well known to warriors of all clans. Where most demons preferred subtlety, Onwar was unstable, wild. He’d killed three strong wa
rriors in the past year.

After Faelan told them what he knew, Ma’s face
went blank.
She nodded and told him he would do fine, just fine, and then she left the room. Da sent Alana off to bed, much to her dismay, and after declaring that he would speak to the Council
the next day, he followed her.

Not surprising, their father was granted an immediate audience with the Council. Many of the elders were in residence throughout the games, which coincided with their usual meeting. The Council was made up of thirteen elders, one of them chief, drawn from the various clans. They met occasionally at the castle, since it was the Connor clan seat. The elders lived in a secret location known only to them for both their protection and the clans’, in case, God forbid, a clan was discovered by demons and destroyed. The elders would then be able to gather reinforcements and do what was
necessary to rebuild the clan.

The Council gathered in the library to hear Da’s request. Ian and Tavis were allowed to attend the meeting, though they would have attended whether they were granted an audience or not. It wouldn’t be the first Cou
ncil meeting they had spied on.

“Can’t you do something?” their
father implored of the elders.

The chief elder stood with his hands folded behind his gold ceremonial robes. “We share your concern,” he said, motioning to the other members of the Council seated behind him. “But if Michael has spoken, who are we to intervene?”

“But he’ll die. It’s been two centuries since a warrior was assigned an ancient demon. And there haven’t been but a few on record to ever battle a demon this powerful.”

The Council remained firm. They would not intervene. From the resolved look on his father’s face, Tavis knew he hadn’t expected them to. It wouldn’t have mattered. Faelan would take Michael’s orders over any Council command. The council did agree to send two dozen warriors to battle the other demons that Onwar would have with him, thereby freeing Faelan to concentrate on the ancient demon. While the games were still going on outside, inside the castle the mood was heavy.

That night, Faelan left. Tavis woke from a troubling dream and found his brother’s bed empty. He roused Ian and they dressed quietly, gathered some food and water for the trip, then left a note for their mother and father. Tavis crept into Alana’s room and dropped a kiss on her cheek before joining Ian back in their room. They slipped over the balcony and headed for the stables. He didn’t like leaving without saying goodbye. Ma would be worried, but a little worry now would be better than l
etting Faelan face Onwar alone.

After gathering their horses, they found Kieran at the cottage and told him Faelan had left. He too dressed quickly, armed himself,
and they mounted their horses.

“Where do we start?” Ian asked. “He could be going anywhere.”

“He’s going to London,” Kieran said.

“London?” Ian asked.

Kieran nodded. “That’s the last place Onwar was seen.”

“He’s on Nandor,” Ian said. “We’ll never find him i
f he doesn’t want to be found.”