Bren shut the door to the study softly. Too softly. A shiver of apprehension ran down Eian’s spine. This was not going to be good. Bren walked to the middle of the room and turned to face his brothers. He held the pretense of calm, true, but his muscles were tensed, his nostrils slightly flared, giving away the storm brewing within. He pointed to the large wooden chest in the corner. The beautifully carved chest that held all of the clan’s most important documents and treasures, and was locked and warded at all times. Even if the keep burned down around their ears, the chest would survive. And, as Eian had feared, the chest and its contents were why he and Drust had been called to the Laird’s study on the morning after the hunting trip. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it did no good. The day of reckoning had come.
“I opened that chest no’ an hour ago to take out the roll book, and I noticed that something was missing”, Bren said slowly, carefully, far too evenly. “Something that is usually in the small box on top, third section from the back.”
Drust narrowed his eyes, as if picturing the inside of the chest in his mind. “The Dragon Ring?”
Bren turned his steely gaze on Drust. “Aye, it’s gone, and only the three of us have a key.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Since I am quite certainIdidna remove it, which one of ye will be talking?”
Eian looked at the floor, as if he were studying his boots. Shite, was he ever in for it, but there was no point in putting off the inevitable, as tempting as it was to turn his gaze on Drust and let his brother take the fall for him. Drust had done so many times before, when they were younger, but not this time. He was getting far too old to be protected by his elder brother, and he would take full responsibility for the risk he had taken. He only hoped Dirc had done whatever he needed to do already, because he was in for it too. He drew a deep breath and looked at the laird, also his beloved older brother. It was all for Bren’s own good… he hoped.
“I took it.”
Drust turned immediately to gape at him, open-mouthed with disbelief, while Bren stared him down, tightly leashed fury in his eyes, his voice deceptively calm.
“Explain yourself little brother,now.”
Eian took a deep breath. There was no going back now. “Well, Dirc came to me with this plan.”
Bren groaned and pressed his palm to his forehead as if in agony. “I should have kenned that wicked old man would have something to do with this!” He heaved a weary sigh. “Go on, Eian. Tell me everything.”
“He said he couldna come to ye, because ye would never go along with it, and it was our one chance to make things right. He said he had a suspicion, but he wouldna tell me what it was. He wouldna tell me much of anything at all. Except that he’d gottena hold of an old book of clan lore that said the Dragon Ring has certain special powers.”
Bren interrupted again. “Of course it does! Which is why it remains locked in the chest!”
Eian shook his head. “Nay… other powers, beyond those we ken. According to the writing… it can find its true master’s soul mate, and bring her back to him.”
Despite himself, Bren felt his stomach drop a little, while at the same time his heart leapt into his throat. If only that were so. God, what he wouldn’t give… but he quickly covered his other emotions with more outrage.
“And Dirc believes this to be true?”
“Aye, he honestly does. That much I could see for myself.”
“So ye took the ring from the chest and gave it to Dirc, to do with as he pleased?”
Eian flushed and dropped his head a little. “Aye. I thought it was for the best, Bren. I thought…”
“Where is the ring now? Does Dirc still have it?”
Eian shook his head. “I dinna ken. He said something about sending it to find her, yer mate, I’m supposing. At first I thought he was crazy, but he was so convincing… and I ken how much ye wanted… I’m sorry. I didna mean to cause any harm. I only meant to help.”
Bren closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at his brother. He had lost much of his anger when he realized his Eian did what he did for him, even if he was a fool to believe anything Dirc told him. But the missing ring was a bigger problem right now. It had belonged to the Mac Coinnach Clan for… as long as anyone could remember, and it was said to hold both their fortune, and their destruction.
“This is serious Eian. Ye ken the power that ring has… if it were to fall into the wrong hands…”
“I ken. I’ll find it, Bren. I’ll start right now, even if I have to hunt Dirc McInnes down with the hounds.”
“See that ye do, Eian. Ye ken I never enjoy having to punish ye. Although this time… this time might be an exception. I’ve had quite enough of all this shite about soul mates and destiny. Nay a bit of it makes a damn bit of sense.” And yet, there was one woman… if he could have chosen any woman in the world to be his true mate, he would have chosen her. Faith. If only the ring had foundher, had brought her to him, he would be a happy man. But he should not be thinking of such things, because he knew better than to raise his own hopes.
***
Beltane. Perhaps the most important celebration of the year for his people, and Bren had to make sure they would all be safe this night. He patrolled the woods at the eastern side of the castle once again, checking the wards that had been set to help keep out all evil and dark magic, and the stationing of guards at the outer perimeter of the castle forest. They were to be the first line of defense should an attack occur, because Bren himself intended for once to fully partake of the festivities, and there was one lass in particular he intended to pursue. He had never felt so much anticipation before; he was almost dizzy with it. A single day had never seemed so long, even with all of the preparation for the sacred ceremony that night, and the feast to be held tomorrow for the entire village. Every hour felt like ten, until finally the sun began to dip over the hills, its golden light dazzlingly brilliant just before it sank out of sight.
As dusk fell, the fires were lit, the flames leaping and crackling and sending showers of smoky sparks up into the sky. People began to gather around the circle of standing stones, waiting to witness the ancient rite that would help to balance the light and the dark, and protect and nourish the Mac CoinnachClan for the coming year. They would pray for fertile fields, good crops, and the health of their families. They would pray for healthy children to be born, and boys to grow into strong warriors. And they would pray that their chief would continue to be strong and to keep the dark magic at bay.
Bren, dressed in a kilt of Mac Coinnach tartan and with his sword strapped across his back, walked toward the circle, his brothers following closely behind. Faith watched him from her place on a small rise, where she stood with a group of the kitchen maids. Her heart beat faster in the expectant hush as the crowd parted, forming a sort of avenue that Bren continued down, head held high, eyes straight ahead, as if all those people had not been blocking his way seconds before. He walked into the center of the circle, Eian and Drust stopping behind him, one to each side. Bowing his head, he pulled his sword from its sheath, holding it up before him for a moment before dropping to his knees and laying it on the ground before him. His brothers also dropped to their knees. Bren raised his head, and the crowd seemed to hold its breath, waiting, anticipating, almost vibrating with tension. He closed his eyes, lashes dark against his cheeks in the glow of the firelight. Faith could not look away, completely captive to the scene unfolding before her, just as enthralled as all of the others around her. Bren had a natural charisma that drew people in, made them want to watch him, be near him.
Then he began to speak in a language she could not understand, but the words themselves were beautiful, his steady voice both powerful and mesmerizing. He raised both hands above his head, his face to the sky, strange words still rolling off his tongue, the crowd’s attention rapt. The earth beneath her feet seemed to tremble a little, but maybe it was just the people all around her, or her imagination, which was never inshort supply. No, there it was again, stronger now. Were there earthquakes in Scotland?
There was suddenly more light, and she glanced back to see the fires flare up, larger and brighter than before. All of them at once, yet the air was still. She sucked in a little breath of surprise, looked at her companions, but no one else seemed to be noticing the odd things happening around them. Bren was picking up the sword now, and the glint of metal reflecting the firelight drew her attention back to the circle. She watched in fascinated horror as he slowly drew the blade across his left forearm, and a line of blood welled up, dark red, almost black in the waning light. He held it up, letting the blood flow onto the ground below. The trembling of the earth abruptly stopped, and the light dimmed as the flames of the fires sank down to where they had been before. Bren stood, looked out at the gathering of his people, and raised his arms, as if in triumph. Faith thought for a moment that she was watching some ancient Celtic god come to life in front of her eyes. He was that utterly magnificent. Voices suddenly erupted all around her, cheering and shouting. Bren smiled at them, spoke a few more unfamiliar words, and then left the circle. Faith thought she must learn what ever language he was speaking, because the words seemed to hold so much more beauty and significance than the ones she could speak and understand.
