Faelan: A Highland Warrior Brief Read online

  Faelan:

  A

  Highland Warrior

  Brief

  Anita Clenney

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  FAELAN: A HIGHLAND WARRIOR BRIEF

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2012 by Anita Clenney

  http://www.anitaclenney.com/

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my readers. You made my dreams come true.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I want to thank my husband Austin, my agent Christine Witthohn, my critique partner Dana Rodgers, beta reader Lori McDermeit, and editor Clarence Haynes.

  Since the beginning of time, a secret order of warriors has walked the earth; their quest—to seek and destroy the demons that live disguised among us. Ordered by Michael the Archangel, these protectors are all that stand between humanity and the Underworld. This is the story of the Connor Clan.

  Chapter One

  1840

  Scotland, Connor Castle

  “Keep your eye on the demon, or else you’ll get your throat slit.”

  Jarred by his father’s voice, seven-year-old Faelan looked away from the field where a big, red-haired warrior had knocked a sword from his younger opponent’s hand. It was the first day of training and the castle grounds were filled with warriors who had just reached their eighteenth birthday. They had to train for a year before they could fight real demons, the task they were groomed for from the day they were born. Connor Castle was the seat of the Connor Clan, which included warriors from all over Scotland. There were always warriors visiting. Sometimes it felt like an inn.

  Faelan wanted to watch them training, but his father insisted that he and his brothers practice too. He turned back to Tavis, who was a year younger, and grinned. “Da called you a demon.”

  “He is a demon,” five-year-old Ian muttered, holding his injured arm. Yesterday, he and Tavis had been wrestling and Ian cracked his wrist. Cracked, to hear Ian tell it. Ma said it was just sprained.

  “Next time, Faelan will be the demon,” his father said.

  Deciding that the trainers were giving the new warriors a bloody hard time and that Tavis deserved the same, Faelan raised his wooden sword and rushed his brother, knocking him on his arse. Tavis leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing, and came at Faelan, but he deflected the blow.

  “That’s it, lads. Good work. Ian, are you ready to have a go?”

  “Not with this bum arm.” Ian glared at Tavis, and then his face lit. “Thank the heavens. I’m nearly famished.”

  Ian was always nearly famished. As much as he ate, he should be as fat as the mare that was ready to foal. Their mother approached, carrying a basket. A couple of the young warriors who were training lowered their swords and stopped to watch her. Ma was bonny, an Irish beauty, or so his father said. To Faelan, she was just Ma. Two-year-old Liam ran ahead of her, his short legs flying. He’d been slow learning to walk, but now they couldn’t keep up with him.

  “Food,” Tavis exclaimed, dropping his sword. He was always famished too.

  Liam ran up to Faelan and hugged him. He’d taken to following Faelan everywhere. “Sword,” Liam said, holding out his tiny hand.

  “Don’t knock yourself upside the head,” Faelan warned, handing him the sword.

  “I smell shortbread,” Tavis said, trying to sneak one dirt-smeared hand in the basket.

  “Tavis Connor, get your filthy fingers out of this basket.” Ma swatted his hands away. “This is for the warriors. They’ve been working hard.”

  “We’ve been working hard too,” Tavis said. “And we’re as good as warriors. That’s what Da said.”

  A frown marred Ma’s forehead. “Soon,” she murmured, reaching inside the basket. She pulled out a piece of shortbread and broke it into four pieces. “This will do you for now.” Her frown faded and she smiled. “And Da is right. You’ll make fine warriors when the time comes.” She closed the lid and started to leave. “Mind you keep an eye on Liam.”

  “Liam?” Da looked confused.

  Ma brushed a loose strand of red-gold hair out of her eyes. “Aiden Connor, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. You promised to watch Liam while I help Nurse with the injured warriors.”

  Da groaned and rubbed a big hand over his nicked chin. He’d mishandled his razor again. “Blimey. I did forget. But I’ve got to take my sword to the blacksmith. He’s expecting me.”

  “Take the lads with you. They can help with Liam.”

  “All right then. Tavis, run get my sword. Ian, you need to get washed up. You look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt.”

  “He was,” Tavis said. “Not an hour ago, and he wasn’t worried about his arm then.”

  Ian started to argue, but Da thumped him on the shoulder. “Run along, lad. Faelan, you get the horses ready, and take Liam with you. I’ll tell the trainers I need to leave for a bit.”

  “Can’t Tavis take Liam?” He didn’t want to watch him. He had more important things to do than caring for a bairn.

  “Faelan...” Da gave him a warning look.

  “But—”

  “Do as you’re told. No arguing and no mischief.”

  “Come on, then, Liam. Give me the sword.” Faelan reached for the sword, but Liam held it tight.

  “Me warrior.” He carried the wooden sword over and laid it next to the others, his shoulders straight and proud. Smiling, he ran back and put his hand in Faelan’s. They walked toward the stables, Faelan tugging, and Liam holding back as he tried to watch the warriors. Liam pointed to the same big warrior Faelan had been watching earlier and then touched his stubby finger to his chest. “Me.”

  “Aye, one day you’ll be the finest warrior who ever lived,” Faelan told him. “They’ll tell tales about you and make up songs. But right now if you don’t move those short legs, Da will skin us both.”

  After he hitched the wagon, he brought it around and picked up his father, Tavis, and Ian. Ma gave Liam a kiss and waved them off. “Mind your brother,” she called.

  No one in the village knew their secret. Da said the entire clan could be destroyed if demons or humans found out what they were. Faelan didn’t understand it all, but he kept his mouth shut.

  Da tied the horses near the blacksmith’s shop. “Wait out here. I won’t be long. And none of your tricks, Faelan.” He grabbed his sword and headed around the corner. Ian immediately started complaining that he was hungry.

  “It’s not time to eat,” Faelan said. “Go play.”

  “I don’t want to play. I want to eat.” Ian screwed up his face and Liam imitated the expression. Other than Liam’s dark hair, they both looked exactly like their mother.

  “I hungry too,” Liam said.

  “We don’t have food,” Faelan said. “Let’s play marbles.”

  “Marbles.” Liam’s face split with a smile and he clapped his han
ds. They played for a few minutes and then Faelan got bored. He looked over at the apothecary shop on the corner and saw a flash of long, gray hair as Old Donnal walked past the window.

  Tavis laid down his marble. “Is that him?”

  Faelan shrugged, but kept watching, wondering if the stories were true. Old Donnal hadn’t been here long, but already people were whispering about magic and dark arts. Faelan wanted to get closer, but he didn’t want to get caught. After the last prank, his father would hang him by his heels if he got into more mischief. But it would take the blacksmith a while to mend the sword. He could be back before he was even missed.

  “Keep an eye on Liam,” Faelan said to Ian. “Tavis and I have something to do.”

  “I want to come,” Ian said.

  “No. You have to watch Liam.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” Ian said.

  “I’m seven,” Faelan said. “You’re only five. That puts me in charge. And what if the stories are true? He might put a spell on you.” Ian’s greatest fear was that a demon would cast a spell and turn him into a toad or a snake, even though Faelan had explained that demons didn’t turn people into toads and snakes. They just killed them and ate their brains. It wasn’t a complete lie. Sometime demons did eat their enemies. But Ian was still more scared of spells than being eaten.

  “I go?” Liam asked, pulling on Faelan’s hand.

  “No. Stay with Ian.”

  “I go too,” Liam said louder.

  “No.” Faelan shook Liam’s hand off and started walking away.

  Scowling, Ian held Liam’s arm to keep him from following. “Stay here, Liam. Faelan and Tavis are gonna get their arses tanned if Da catches them spying on Old Donnal.”

  “Shut up or I’ll tell Da you said arse.” Tavis picked up a dirt clod and threw it at Ian.

  Ian dodged it and stuck out his tongue. “You said it too.”

  “Did not.”

  “Yes you did. Just now.”

  “That’s different, I was just repeating—oh shut yer trap.” Tavis threw another dirt clod at him and followed Faelan. “You think it’s true?” Tavis asked, catching up. He was only six, but as tall as Faelan and could run nearly as fast. Anyone who didn’t know them thought they were twins.

  Faelan moved a little closer to the apothecary shop. He could feel Tavis breathing over his shoulder. “One of the stable hands said he saw a jar with a human finger floating in some kind of potion.”

  “I wouldn’t drink anything with a finger in it.”

  “You swallowed that rabbit’s foot,” Faelan said.

  “You dared me. And that’s an animal, not a human. I say he’s a sorcerer. Barlow died after getting a potion from him.”

  “Barlow got kicked in the head by a horse.”

  “Lots of people get kicked in the head and don’t die. Nurse said so.”

  “Not by a Clydesdale,” Ian said from behind them.

  Faelan turned around. Ian and Liam were there. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re tired of playing marbles,” Ian said. “It’s your turn to watch Liam.”

  “Tired,” Liam repeated. “I hungry.”

  “We’ll eat in a bit,” Faelan said. “Old Donnal’s looking this way. Hide.” They ducked around a corner and waited a minute before poking their heads out.

  “Did he see us?” Ian asked.

  “I hope not,” Tavis said. “They say he can curse people. Make ‘em rot from the inside out.”

  “Like a spell?” Ian whispered. “Bollocks.”

  “Don’t curse,” Faelan said, giving Ian a shove. “Maybe Old Donnal’s a demon and this is his disguise.”

  “I say he’s a sorcerer,” Tavis said.

  Faelan stood up. “Come on, let’s get back before Da comes looking for us.” He glanced around. “Where’s Liam?”

  “Right here.” Ian turned and frowned. “Well, he was a minute ago.”

  “Liam,” Faelan called.

  “Faelan.” They all turned at the small voice and saw Liam walking away holding a stranger’s hand. Liam smiled. “Food,” he said, and held up a piece of bread.

  The man laughed, a low, rough sound that made Faelan’s spine tingle, and he started walking faster, dragging Liam along.

  Faelan hurried after them. “Wait.”

  The man turned and smiled at Faelan, showing a mouth full of long, sharp teeth.

  “Get Da!” Faelan yelled to Tavis and Ian.

  The man—it wasn’t a man; men didn’t have teeth like that—scooped Liam up and ran. Liam was scared now, screaming for Faelan. Faelan was scared too. His legs felt like mud. He wanted to wait for Da, but something inside kept him moving. The demon carried Liam behind the apothecary shop. As Faelan ran past, he caught a glimpse of Old Donnal looking out the window, his face shocked.

  He heard panting behind him and worried that another one might be sneaking up on him. He glanced back, but it was just Tavis, his face a white blur. A loud shriek sounded and Faelan ran faster. He rounded the corner and his feet froze. The demon had Liam by one ankle, dangling him over the old well.

  “No!” Faelan yelled. Liam was screaming and twisting. If he didn’t stop, the demon was going to drop him. That well was deep. Da wouldn’t let any of them near it.

  The demon smiled, and Faelan’s skin crawled. He had never seen a fully shifted demon this close. It was hideous, like a monster from a nightmare. Big and ugly, with gray skin, yellow snake-eyes, and long, coarse hair. And it stunk worse than the deer carcass he’d found rotting in the woods last week. He’d never been this scared, but he kept his eyes on Liam, who was still wriggling like a worm, hands reaching for something to hold.

  “Stop moving, Liam.” Maybe the demon would free Liam and take him instead. What would a demon want with a bairn? “Please don’t hurt him. You can have me. I’m bigger.”

  “Come closer then. Let me see if it’s worth the trade,” the demon hissed.

  Faelan moved closer until he reached the well. His brother had calmed and was looking at Faelan with big, frightened eyes.

  “Will you trade, then?” he asked the demon. “Me for him.”

  The demon’s yellow eyes locked on Faelan. He smiled, baring teeth as gray as his skin, and he dropped Liam.

  Faelan lunged and caught Liam’s hand. The demon ran off as Liam wriggled and screamed. Faelan gripped the well with his other hand to keep from being pulled in. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel Liam slipping.

  “Hold on, Faelan. I’m coming,” Tavis called behind him.

  “Hurry, I can’t hold him.”

  “No!” Faelan recognized his father’s roar.

  Liam slipped a little more, and Faelan strained with the weight, feeling like his eyeballs would pop. Liam’s hand was slipping through his. Tavis threw himself against the well next to Faelan and grabbed for Liam’s hand.

  It was too late.

  Chapter Two

  Nine years later

  Scotland, Connor Castle

  The wind whipped his hair against his face as Faelan galloped ahead of the storm. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Tavis on the hill closing in, but Ian hadn’t caught up. Faelan nudged Nandor faster. This time the lucky stone would be his. He and Tavis had been fighting over the rock for as long as they could walk. A tree branch smacked Faelan’s chest, wiping the triumph from his face. He righted himself as Tavis sped ahead with a victory cry.

  “The stone’s mine,” Tavis shouted over the wind.

  Minutes later, Faelan jumped to the ground outside the stables and led Nandor inside, while Tavis held the door.

  “Where’s Ian?” Tavis asked, looking out into the storm.

  “I thought he’d catch up by the burn.” They’d left the castle grounds and almost raced into the village. The storm had caught them by surprise.

  “He’s probably hiding in the woods, hoping we’ll come back to look for him,” Tavis said. “Then he’ll race ahead and win.”

  Two more crashes so
unded. Faelan swung onto Nandor’s back. “This is no prank.”

  “You’re not going back out there,” Tavis said, glancing at the sky.

  The next flash brought an image of a tiny casket being lowered into the ground. “I have to.”

  “You’re daft. It’s storming like the devil. We’ll get Da. Ian probably saw the lightning and went to one of the cottages.”

  Several cottages had been built along the boundary, where warriors were stationed to protect the castle from intruders, demons and busybodies alike. As far as the village was concerned, this was a horse farm. The clan went to great lengths to make sure no one discovered what they really were. “I can’t leave him out there. He’s my responsibility. I’m the oldest.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Tavis said, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about Ian. “You tried to save him. I’m the one who didn’t get there in time. I’m getting Da—”

  “No,” Faelan shouted. “I’ll take care of it.” He rode out the open door into the storm, leaving Tavis frowning after him.

  Nandor’s hoofs splattered mud as they raced across the field into the woods. Faelan wished he’d never suggested this game. He wasn’t a lad anymore. In two years, he would be eighteen and start training to be a warrior. He should’ve known better, read the weather beforehand. Long minutes later, Faelan entered the woods, dodging trees as he raced toward the orchard where they’d found a piece of broken fence that led outside the castle grounds.

  He found Ian in the woods on the other side of the fence, lying face down in the dirt. Faelan tapped Nandor with his heels and the horse galloped toward Ian. Faelan jumped down and ran to his brother. “Ian?” He crouched over him, but Ian didn’t move. Faelan pulled Ian’s kilt over his backside and rolled him over, putting his ear to Ian’s chest. His heartbeat was strong. “Come on, Ian.” A horse whinnied behind him. He turned and saw Tavis jump from his horse and hurry toward them. He should have known Tavis would never stay behind. “His horse must have thrown him,” Faelan said.