Chapter Nine

 

Castle Swan

 

Duncan hadn’t wanted to frighten Holly, but he’d sensed something evil in the forest. Even with keen dragon vision and smelling, he couldn’t detect it. But it had been there—watching, listening, scheming.

The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the pink, orange, and purple clouds did nothing to lift his foul mood. Marigold had been gone less than five years, and he hadn’t even been tempted by another woman. His honor was the last dignity he had, and he wouldn’t jeopardize it over a bonny lass. He needed to find the damn chapter and send Holly back to her time, then find a way to save his arrogant brother.

“Why is it called Castle Swan?” Holly’s voice was filled with dread. “It doesn’t look like a place a swan would want to nest.”

“Because Laird Brodie’s clan found a lake with a family of black swans and decided it was a good omen. Castle Swan used to have happier times until Henry became Laird. It fell on dark times, and good men went missing.”

Holly didn’t ask what happened, and he wouldn’t have told her anyway. He just hoped he could keep her from becoming one of Laird Henry’s rugs.

He maneuvered Sir Robert to the sprawling lake where the swans had lived and many weddings, christenings, and parties had been held in happier times, but there hadn’t been swans there for years. It was filled with algae and had a foul smell. Laird Henry’s evil penetrated the land like a smoldering fire eating everything in its path.

Dead bushes and trees would hide Sir Robert. He slid off the great war horse and helped Holly off. “There is no shame for ye to wait here with Sir Robert.”

“I am not staying at this creepy pond. It stinks.” She pulled her hair into a queue and flicked it behind her. “What do we do know?”

The tiny gesture reminded of him of Marigold’s neat tight bun, but Holly had loose strands that framed her determined face. He had to keep his arms pressed to his side to keep from pushing her curls behind her delicate ears.

“Sneak into the castle.” He didn’t relish enduring the same evil presence.

“How? It looks more fortified than Fort Knox.”

“What is Fort Knox?”

“It’s a guarded building where Americans keep their gold.”

“Ye’re from a place called America?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s across the ocean. So, how are we going to sneak inside?”

“Over the wall.”

“That’s your plan. You’re kidding, right? It’s got to be at least forty-five feet tall.”

“I am a dragon, remember? Even in human form, climbing walls are an easy feat.”

Holly looked at Castle Swan. “Maybe for you, but not for me. That place is eerie-looking. It’s nothing like Questing Castle.”

“Aye, ’tis filled with horrors that would send the bravest knight away. You need to stay close to me.”

“Like I want to go exploring on my own. I’m not leaving your side, Thor.”

Duncan bristled at being mistaken for another man. Was Thor a former lover? “I am na Thor. I am Duncan.”

Her smile curved into a teasing smile. “I know. Thor is a character in a movie—theater. You remind me of him.”

He unsheathed his sword. “Stay close to me, lass. Ye donna want to be walking around Castle Swan alone.”

“You don’t have to worry. I don’t have any intention of playing tourist.”

“What’s a tourist?”

“God, this is so surreal. A tourist is simply another word for someone visiting somewhere that isn’t home.”

“’Tis a strange place you come from.”

“Oh, and this place is normal?” Her sarcastic tone left little doubt that she wanted to leave this era.

“Ye donna like my home?”

“No offense, but women’s rights weren’t exactly celebrated. I wanted to study the medieval ages, not live them.”

Sending her back to her time was what he wanted, but then why did his heart clench? He turned his gaze from her and concentrated on the task at hand. “Take the satchel with my clothes in it.”

She nodded and put it over her head. The satchel lay against her thigh. He hadn’t noticed, but unlike Marigold’s, Holly’s arms were toned and defined as if she’d worked out in the practice yards. What kind of a world did she come from where women were not treated as delicate creatures?

The black stone castle dominated the landscape. Unlike Questing Castle, villagers found no comfort in the crenelated battlements. Many maidens and young men had been stolen, and the blame lay at Brodie’s feet, but none dared accuse him. Castle Swan sat on a motte that was twenty feet high. Unlike other motte and bailey castles, Castle Swan was made of stone, not wood. At night, its shadowy donjon carved into the dusky sky, making Duncan’s dragon senses vigilant. The only way into the castle was through the drawbridge, then past the portcullis that led into the inner bailey. The inner high walls were slick, with hardly a crevice for a human foothold, but not impossible for a dragon. On the upper battlements, there were traps in the floor for dumping boiling oil or buckets of red-hot sand. Castle Swan could withhold a siege if need be. Two pitch-soaked torches flickered on either side of the drawbridge. Luckily, they were the only lights and would aid them from prying eyes.

Fully armed guards, each wearing the dark colors of Laird Henry Brodie, walked the curtain wall. Last time they’d been lax in watching for intruders, but Duncan doubted such would be the case this time. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Ian and the other guards that had not only let an intruder invade the keep, but also sneak away with Brodie’s page of Satan’s Scriptures.

He stretched out his hand. “Holly, take my hand.”

She stared at it as if it were a snake ready to strike. “Why? Are you going to kiss me again?”

“I’ve passed some of my powers to ye. With the touch of my hand, ye’ll turn invisible. Come, we donna have much time.”

She put her small palm in his, and he pulled her next to him. He drew on his power, and tingles swept over him, turning them both invisible. He tried to ignore her fresh scent and the desire to kiss her again. The dragon roared inside him, wanting to claim her. He gritted his teeth, determined to not give into temptation.

Although they were invisible, Duncan approached the wall slowly. With each step, malice beat down on them. The armored guards were the least of their worries. Something already knew they were coming. He dreaded that they’d be lucky to escape with their lives. He should have left Holly with Sir Robert, but the evil would have found her. He tightened his grip.

“Loosen your grip, Hulk-man. You’re hurting me.” Her voice was hushed and strained as if she felt the same unease.

He did as she asked and unraveled his tight fingers. At the base of the wall, he pressed his back against the hard stone and glanced up. There was a guard standing watch, but he wouldn’t detect them. Unless the evil announced their arrival.

“Holly, I’m goin’ to slide my arm around yer waist, so donna scream.”

“Okay.” Both her voice and hand shook.

She had said that she was a scholar. Who ever heard of learned woman? They were to be protected and treasured, not locked in a dusty institution.

He pulled her close, and his flesh turned hard. He cursed under his breath. She did nothing to encourage him, but just being near her set his desire on fire. She was a deadly distraction. He needed to focus on the malice not the slender lass he held close.

With his dragon strength, he climbed up the wall, his feet expertly falling into crevices and his hand hauling them up. He listened intently. Holly breathed heavily in his ears, and her rapid beating heart matched his. There was the murmured talk of the guards, but they weren’t talking about any intruders. He waited for the guard to walk, then quietly slipped over the wall.

He panted hard as if the air had grown strangely thin and he needed to rest. The same weariness that had gripped him the last time was back, creeping into his bones and his muscles, making every move harder and harder. He took a deep breath, then gripped Holly’s hand, and together, they inched down the sentry walks, careful not to make a sound.

“I heard something,” a giant of a guard said as he unsheathed his sword. “Footsteps.”

Duncan and Holly froze.

Another guard unleashed his. “I don’t see anything.”

“Laird Brodie said to trust our senses, Michael. You don’t want to end up like the poor devil, Ian.”

“Aye, his screams would have woke the dead.”

Holly gasped.

Duncan cursed slightly and tightened his grip. Despite his doubts, he should have left her with Sir Robert, or better yet, tied up in his chambers. At least she’d have been safe.

“D’ye hear that?” The burly giant tilted his head. “I swear someone’s here.”

The two guards warily edged down the walkway. Duncan held his breath and hoped Holly wouldn’t make the slightest sound. They were cornered against the keep, and he’d either have to fight or change into a dragon, which would ruin the element of surprise. He needed to keep his presence hidden as long as possible in order to capture Brodie. Even as a dragon, he’d have hard time sneaking up on him. The evil was protecting him.

“Better tell, Brodie that somebody’s here, Michael.”

“Not until I know for sure. I’ll not be Brodie’s favorite play thing.”

“Don’t worry. The dragon’s been keeping him amused.”

What if it were Alastair? He couldn’t be. He was supposedly in Holly’s time.

“Soon the stubborn lizard will be dead, and Brodie will have his first dragon rug.”

They both laughed softly.

Duncan’s breath stilled, his lungs squeezed, then suddenly he was stunned as a sense of dread crept into his soul. It took every sense of Duncan’s iron will not to freeze them into gigantic icicles, then smash them into a million pieces. The angel had said that Alastair was possessed, but he hadn’t believed it. Alastair might be an arrogant arse, but he’d sworn on his honor to protect the Wolfe. He was a dragon knight, and dragon knights would not break their vows.

Holly rubbed his arm, and her gentle caress softened his anger. He could not understand what was happening. It had to be the work of black magic. It hadn’t felt dark, it had felt right... like she was meant to be the one to ease his dragon anger.

The guards edged down farther along the sentry walk. Duncan flipped Holly over his shoulder. She gasped, but thankfully she didn’t fight. Using dragon speed, he raced down the keep stairwell, his feet barely touching the granite stone. The moon shone through windows on the first story, and unfortunately, cast their shadow onto the floor. Invisibility cloaked them from the human eye, but not from God’s eye.

On the second level, there were no windows—only quivering torches lit their way down into the depths of Castle Swan. Lichen and cobwebs clung to the walls, and dampness grew thick, choking off the clean air. The steps were slick and dangerous, not just from the dampness but from the poor souls who’d been beaten and dragged down to the pit where no one would hear their screams. Only the path of their blood would give any signal that they existed. Duncan remembered this dreadful place and knew the horrors that waited for them in the dungeon—drying human skins hanging from the walls, discarded corpses lumped into the middle of the room, and the hopeless, half-starved men waiting their turn to be butchered alive.

Two guards blocked the entrance of the dungeon, each holding a halberd. Surprise was out of the question now. Alastair’s life was in danger, and Duncan wouldn’t risk his brother’s life for the bloody chapters.

Duncan pulled her close, then whispered, “Stay close. Take my sword, then once I change, climb onto my back.”

She released a small grunt as he gave her the sword.

He knew it was heavy and most women could barely lift the weapon, but he’d need it later and hadn’t had much choice. Unfortunately, once he changed into a dragon, they would be visible, but Alastair’s life was at stake. Duncan drew on his power. Tingles swept over him. Muscles stretched and twisted and bones crunched.

“Mother of God!” The guard aimed his halberd. “A dragon.”

“Sound the alarm!” the other cried, but his voice was off.

Duncan exhaled, and chilly smoke brushed over them, turning them into stone.

“Oh, my gosh!” Holly held the sword with both of her hands. “You froze them.”

He tilted his head, and she climbed over his back, dragging the monstrous sword. Duncan slashed his tail and crashed into the door again and again until bits of rock and molding broke away. Spirals of dust hovered in the air. He breathed on the door. Ice spread across it like rivers, cracking the wood and splintering it. He slashed the frozen door with his tail, and it shattered. Ice chinked onto the floor. A windy staircase lit by flickering torches disappeared into the darkness.

He was too big to fly into the narrow stairwell, so he drew on his dragon power and shrunk both he and Holly in size.

“Is it my imagination or are we getting smaller?”

Duncan didn’t have time to explain. He flew into the dark passageway, and she screamed, her legs pressing against his side. He circled around a thick stone pillar as guards yelled behind them. The pursuit would be quick and deadly. At the bottom of the stairs was another guarded doorway. He exhaled, freezing the guards and the door. His tail crashed the door, sending wood splintering and iron clinking.

They entered a dungeon, and he landed on the stone floor, his wings flattening next to him. Shackles hung from the walls, and cells that hadn’t seen the light of day were surprisingly empty. A rack was in the middle of the room, and the large metal canister of the iron maiden was against one wall. Torches cast long shadows onto the room.

A dark-haired man was strapped to two pillars, his arms stretched wide, his back bloodied. His legs had given away, and he hung limply. But it was the tall muscular man dressed in a purple tunic and holding a multi-throng leather scourge in his hand that stilled Duncan’s heart.

Laird Henry Brodie bowed slightly. “Good evening. We’ve been expecting you both. Welcome to Castle Swan.”

Another dragon with the same long tail, same elegant wings, and two-pronged horns flashed inside the room. ’Twas Alastair. Hope withered and died in Duncan’s heart. The pressure of reality squeezed his dry throat so precisely, so exactly that he could no longer deny the truth. Instead of having golden eyes, his brother had crimson eyes, and his once pure white scales had turned black. The Archangel Raphael hadn’t lied. Alastair was no longer pure of heart. Evil had tainted him.