Highland Fires (3 page)

He saw the misery and fear in her eyes and
hated that he couldn’t help her. “What do you want me to do? I’m
but one man against Marcus’ army. I know of whom you speak, though
I have never encountered him myself. He is a very powerful lord
with many men at his disposal. I cannot defend you against
them.”

“I’m not asking for that.”

He stared at her for one heartbeat. Two. “You
ask the impossible. You say you know who I am, but you do not know
everything.”

“I know enough. You are my last hope, Lugus.
You know I am not meant to live out my life here. I must return to
my realm.”

“Then you need to find you a champion that
will aide you.”

Chapter Three

Lugus walked from his cottage and saw the
storm clouds rolling in. The dark clouds flashed lightening as the
thunder boomed around him. The sea had already begun to churn and
chop. Only a fool would venture out onto the sea in a storm as
fierce as what was about to blow in.

He turned on his heel and entered the cottage
to find Ahryn staring into the fire. She raised her gaze to his
when he closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry for coming here. Marcus and his
men will come even if I go back.”

“Aye.”

She took a deep breath and turned to him. “I
will depart now and hopefully talk Marcus into leaving you
alone.”

“I wish that were possible,” Lugus said as he
leaned against the door. “There is a storm coming. Only a fool
would venture out onto the water now. You’ll have to wait until it
blows over.”

“Which means, Marcus won’t come for me?” she
asked hopefully.

Lugus shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Depends on
if he can find oarsmen who are willing to chance their lives.”

“He won’t,” she said with a smile that lit up
her face. “For one night I’m free.”

She whispered the last part, but Lugus heard
her nonetheless. He glanced at his tools and then at her bracelet.
The least he could do was try and take it off for her. He reached
for his tools and walked to her.

He held up the tools. “Shall I?”

“Please.” She sat and held out her hand.

For the next two hours Lugus worked at trying
to unclasp the bracelet to no avail while the storm raged outside.
Whatever magic held her bound to the realm of Earth held the
bracelet closed. He set aside his tools and shook his head.

“Without knowing what kind of magic made the
bracelet, I cannot unlock it.”

“I wish I could tell you. All I know is that
Marcus had the bracelet, but he wouldn’t tell me where he got it or
from whom,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence for a time, the thunder
had become near constant and the lightening lit up the cottage as
if it were day. Weather such as this always exhilarated him, made
him feel as though he should be out in it soaking up the
fierceness.

Lugus flexed his shoulders and rose. “I have
work to do, but make yourself at home and relax while you can.”

“What are the markings for?”

He turned and found her gazing at his hands.
He looked down at the tattoos and shrugged. “I don’t know. They’ve
been on me for as long as I can remember.”

“So you don’t know what each means?”

His gaze raked across the tattoos, a horse, a
small boar, an even smaller dragon and several ancient knotwork
patterns were marked across his skin. “I have no idea.”

He went to the back of the cottage behind a
cloth he had draped across the doorframe and heated up his kiln. If
nothing else he could finish the dirk that had been ordered.

Soon he had forgotten about Ahryn, Marcus and
his soldiers, the slave bracelet and the Fae. He channeled all his
energy into crafting the dirk.

Hours later, with a heavy sigh, he wiped the
sweat from his brow and raised the finished dirk for inspection. It
met with his approval, and, with the matching sheath, it would make
a startling pair. He wiped the blade with a clean cloth, making
sure everything was in order.

“It is very beautiful.”

He looked over his shoulder and found Ahryn
gazing at the dirk. He shrugged and slid it into it‘s sheath. “It
helps keep food in my belly.”

“Maybe,” she said as she came to look at the
assortment of weapons hanging on his wall. “However, I get the
feeling you enjoy your work. Have you always been gifted so?”

Lugus set aside the dirk and sunk his hands
into a bowl of water to wash the sweat and grime from him. “I don’t
really know. I used to draw as a child, but it wasn’t until I came
here and needed to find something to do that I happened across
this.”

Her soft laugh filled the room. Lugus could
only listen to the magical sound. He couldn’t remember the last
time someone had laughed around him.

“I hardly believe you just stumbled onto
this,” she continued, unaware of the turmoil she had caused.
“This,” she said and touched a sword, “is made with passion and
love. You must have watched them craft swords in our realm.”

Lugus could still recall his father’s fury at
discovering him wanting to learn to craft weapons. His father had
said it wasn’t for royalty to do such jobs, and it was the
beginning of a huge rift between him and his father, a rift that
never mended.

“You don’t have to answer.”

He raised his eyes to her. “It seems you know
much more about me than I do you.”

She grinned and lifted a shoulder coyly. “I’m
not near as interesting.”

“Ah, I disagree. A Fae that gets trapped in
the Earth realm after being forbidden to venture here is quite
interesting.”

She waved away his words, the sadness once
again in her gaze. “I only know of you because of hushed whispers.
The stories never seemed to affix, as if there was something
missing, something someone didn’t want the rest of the Fae to
know.” She stopped suddenly and looked at him. “Did you know our
realm was nearly destroyed by the Black dragons? No one knows who
let them loose or who managed to lock them back up.”

Lugus’ gut clenched at her words. “Is that
so?”

“Aye. I heard that
Caer Rhoemyr
was left in
shambles. My city and surrounding village had some damage, but we
managed to get it set aright very soon.”

He waited for her to ask him if he knew who
had released the Death Dragons, and he prayed the question would
never come. She was the only Fae that was likely to speak to him,
and, if she discovered everything, she would hate him as much as
his own family did. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

“Aren’t you curious to know what the whispers
were?”

“Nay,” he said and turned to leave the small
chamber.

“Really?” she asked and followed him. “I
would find it near impossible not to ask.”

Lugus didn’t bother responding to her. He was
used to being alone and liked his solitude, though he couldn’t very
well send her out in the foul weather that had descended upon them.
If he didn’t know better he would think someone had bidden such
weather. He walked to a window and eased open the shutter a bit to
peer into the darkened sky.

He needed to bathe and he needed his
solitude, both of which were being denied him. The cagey feeling he
had suffered through for millions of years while he had been in the
Realm of Shadows consumed him.

“You don’t like me here, do you?” Ahryn
asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’m
used to being alone.”

“I’m not,” she replied. “I have a large
family and many friends. Here, I have only Marcus. I apologize if I
have disturbed your work. I promise not to do so again.”

Lugus heard her feet as she moved around the
cottage and then silence. He turned and found her sitting in front
of the fire staring at her right hand. He could well imagine the
worry her family felt. He envied her that. His family had all but
forgotten him in the millennia he was forced into a realm no one
had ever come back from.

He pushed aside the dark thoughts that tried
to break through. It had been those dark thoughts that had turned
him into the fiend that had nearly destroyed everything. His gaze
returned to Ahryn.

“Come,” he said as he walked past her. To his
surprise, she rose and followed him. He took her to one of his work
tables and showed her the drawing he had done of the sheath for the
sword Marcus had ordered. “I have traced the outline of the sheath
in the leather. Can you cut out the leather?”

She looked at the small dagger in his hand
then up at his face. A slow smile pulled at her lips. “Aye,” she
said and reached for the dagger.

Just as her hand closed over his, he said,
“Be careful. The dagger is sharp.” He released his hold and watched
as she ran a hand over the leather and traced his outline with a
finger. Then, she situated herself and began to cut.

Lugus made himself walk away. He hadn’t liked
giving her the leather to cut, but she had needed something to
occupy her mind as much as he did.

He splashed some water on his face before he
started work on Marcus’ sword. The sword was one of the largest
Lugus had ever attempted, and he was eager to begin.

The kiln was fired and ready to start. He
grabbed a piece of iron from the kiln and envisioned the sword
before the first swing of his hammer.

~ ~ ~

Ahryn was amazed at how quickly she had lost
track of time and forgotten her worries. The chore Lugus had given
her had helped clear her head. She smiled, thinking of how he
proclaimed to want his privacy but was continuing to help her in
ways she had never dreamed.

She looked over her shoulder at him as he
pounded away on the iron and found herself unable to look away. The
Fae by a general rule were all beautiful creatures, but there was
something primitive, powerful about Lugus that pulled her to
him.

Her mouth watered as she watched the muscles
in his arms strain and bunch as he worked the metal with his
hammer. His back and shoulders were dusted with a fine sheen of
sweat from being near the heat of the kiln, and the firelight
blazed across his skin, setting him afire in a red-orange glow.

She jerked her gaze away and turned back to
the leather. She had just finished cutting out the strips, but she
wasn’t ready to leave the chamber. She knew he didn’t wish to be
disturbed, so she grabbed a few strips of discarded leather and
lifted the dagger.

~ ~ ~

Lugus rotated his head to help work out the
kinks in his neck. He yawned and set aside the metal. He had come
farther than he had anticipated with the sword this day, but it was
time he rested or he would make a mistake.

Thunder continued to roar outside as the rain
beat a steady rhythm on the roof and walls of the cottage. His
stomach growled, and he realized he had missed not only his morning
meal, but most likely that of the noon as well.

It wasn’t until he turned to go into the
kitchen and spotted Ahryn that he realized she was there. She had
her head pillowed on her arm as she slept. He was loath to wake
her, but he knew she was most likely as famished as he. He quickly
washed away the grime and reached for his tunic.

He moved is hand to touch her shoulder, and
that’s when he saw them. Small strips of leather that had been in a
pile to throw out. She had used a dagger to carve out intricate
designs, designs only found in the Realm of the Fae.

Lugus blinked, amazed at her ability. For a
half a moment he considered keeping her there with him and having
her design a few of the sheaths. Then he remembered who and what
she was and who and what he was.

“Ahryn,” he called softly.

She jerked upright so fast she nearly came
off the stool. It was only Lugus’ quick hands that caught her
before she toppled off. He righted her as she yawned and wiped her
hair from her face.

“Is it as late as it feels?” she asked
sleepily.

For the first time in
centuries, Lugus felt like smiling. “Hard to tell with the storm,
though I suspect we worked clear through the noon
meal.”


“That would
explain why I am so hungry.”

Lugus left her to venture into the kitchen
where he set about making their meal. Cooking had always been
woman’s work even in his realm, but it was another chore he hadn’t
minded learning. It had taken some time before he had learned
enough to make an edible meal. For a time he had thought he might
starve to death his meals had been so dreadful.

With the storm he hadn’t been able to catch
any fish, so he heated the soup he had fixed the day before. They
ate in silence, yet Lugus could feel her anxiety of the storm
ending. For with the end of the storm came Marcus.

Lugus had kept himself detached from everyone
and nearly everything since he had become mortal. To be honest, he
hadn’t expected to live as long as he had. Many times he would pray
for death, and a few times he even demanded it. But the heavens had
been silent. Until today he had lived each day on its own, never
expecting or hoping for anything.

And now, a Fae sat at his table asking for
his help. At one time he would have jumped to aid her, thinking it
might gain his entrance into the Realm of the Fae.

He wasn’t that same foolish man.

Despite telling himself that he wouldn’t and
couldn’t help her, she was in dire need of assistance. He knew
firsthand how it was to live on a realm he had no desire to be on
and unable to return to his own. He had lost count of the millennia
he had spent in the Realm of Shadows. It hadn’t been a pleasant
place. Even now nightmares would plague him.

He glanced up to see her gaze lowered to the
table and her shoulders hunched. She knew her time was short, and
she was living each heartbeat with all her hope. Lugus then
understood what he had to do.