This would end now.
Chapter Seventeen
Alex meets with the man he asked to assist him in turning himself in to the King of England. Who is the secret man? Loki, maybe?
Alex Grant rode to his destination with the man he’d chosen to assist him. They were about two hours away when the skies opened up. A thick grove of pines was nearby, and they raced under the trees as fast as they could. His partner pointed to a large overhang where they could hide from the storm, an outcropping large enough for three men and their mounts.
The sky turned black, thunder clouds rolling in every direction.
The other man asked, “Have you ever seen clouds like that before? They’re going in opposite directions, something I’ve not witnessed.”
Alex got his horse under the stone protection and dismounted, patting Midnight down to console him. Although he was stalwart and footsure in battle, the beast had always reacted badly to thunderstorms, the quaking of the ground too much for him. He whispered sweet words to the animal and pulled out an apple from his saddlebag. The horse took it quickly and munched away, the treat calming him for a wee bit.
Alex set his hands on his hips, staring up at the thunderstorm raging around them. “I have seen one storm like this, and it was not from anything good. It meant evil was trying to steal a sapphire sword belonging to the fae.”
“When did it happen?” the other man asked.
“Avelina Ramsay had control of the sword. She fought with a daft man over it. Her brother told me the storm started because she held the sword overhead. She was driving a man with ill intent away from her. I’ve never seen another sight like it. Howbeit…” He couldn’t help but think of his granddaughter, Dyna. Blessed with the talents of a seer and the odd ability to pull power into her cousins’ swords by holding her bow over her head, he began to see a similarity between her talents and those of Avelina Ramsay. Was there more to the spectral swords than he realized? And what part was Dyna playing in this unnatural storm?
He wondered where she was and who was with her. Then another thought thrust itself into his mind. The sapphire sword. His sister Brenna had said something about a challenge arising every fifty years. Their mother had told Brenna and Jennie about it, about how a fae queen would choose a mortal being when necessary to help save the Scots, but only when all else had failed.
He pushed his memory back to it, trying to remember all he’d learned, how Brenna had told him that Gregor had been near death, but that Avelina had held him and breathed life back into him.
The fae had given her special powers along with the sword. Avelina had fought against evil and won, and the fae queen had told her to hide the sword, that she would return when it was needed again. That was it. The fae queen had said there would be peace for a time, but eventually they would need to fight evil in Scotland again.
Was the time nigh?
“I wonder. Has it been fifty years?” He said it loud enough to be heard, though he hadn’t meant to because anyone who heard him was bound to think him daft.
Then he shook his head, chastising himself for seeing things that weren’t there. Besides, it couldn’t have been more than forty years.
“What is it?” his companion asked.
“Naught,” Alex replied. “Musings of an old man, one who wishes to believe his wife comes to him in his dreams and his grandchildren have special talents.”
“Like an orphan dreams of being adopted someday?”
Alex glanced at him and grinned. “Something like that.”
The two men watched the wild gusting of the wind, the sheeting rain drenching the landscape, the thunder coming so quickly it was impossible to anticipate the claps.
Alex whispered to himself, “Never seen another like it until now.”
The other man stared at him.
“And I don’t like it.”
Chapter Twenty
Alex plans to give himself to King Edward in return for the promise to leave his family alone. He cannot do it without his confidante.
Alexander Grant was tired. Tired of searching over half the Highlands for the person he sought. It wouldn’t be long before someone from his clan found him and he’d be forced to go back to Grant land.
But he couldn’t.
He was done watching his clan be tortured by the English.
The last plan he’d made had failed—the Scottish sheriffs hadn’t been stationed near King Robert like he’d thought. His confidant had done as promised, but he couldn’t keep asking for help.
