Page 22 of An Enchanted Knight

“Aye, I have not been able to will myself outside of the house since the enchantment. Through windows I can see quite far.” The drawing together of his brow indicated a solemn mood. “By looking through the windows of this house, I can see much of the estate. I have learned a great deal and seen many changes throughout the years.

“It must be so hard.” Gwen’s heart ached. “I can’t imagine being held prisoner for so many years. How have you and the others withstood it?”

He responded with a bitter laugh. “We haven’t. Not really. At first, Meliot’s fury was fresh, making life chaotic and very hard, one ridiculous challenge after another. At one time or another, each of us has almost reached madness, escaping inward to survive.” He moved from the window, tearing his eyes away from the landscape reluctantly. “Over the years, the challenges slowed. We’re either attacked or sent on some ridiculous quest perhaps once a year.”

“Yet he never kills you?”

“The last night, before we were not to wake in this world again, an enchantress who’d tried to free Liam gave each of us a talisman.” He lifted out the leather strap around his neck. From it hung a stamped flat pewter piece.

“Each amulet has a different stamp to signify a power. These strengths have been invaluable.”

He shook his head. “Of course I don’t believe Meliot will allow us to die. Hurt or torture us, yes, the finality and peace of death, no. He wants to ensure we survive as his prisoners until we can witness his return to complete the thwarted plan. Only then will he allow us to die.” His matter-of-fact tone when speaking of his death troubled her.

“Tell me about the others.”

Tristan sat and studied her for a long moment, as if evaluating her worth. Gwen imagined it was hard for him to believe that she, an insignificant woman in his eyes, could possibly save him. But his expression did not reveal his thoughts. As he watched her, the only thing reflected in them was a deep longing. He longed to be free and no matter what she had to do, she’d see him free.

“Gavin Campbell is Scottish,” he began, smiling when she scrambled to pick up her notebook. “He is the largest among us, but probably the gentlest. He was laird to the most powerful clan in Scotland, Clan Campbell. Gavin is also very fair to look upon. He calls it a curse, what so many men would give an eye-tooth for. His beauty proved to be the undoing of many a maiden during his time, and the bards sang of it even centuries after we’d gone. He received the power of seduction, again much to his chagrin.”

Gwen smiled at the thought of a handsome man hating his effect on women. “Please continue,” she urged.

“Niall MacTavish and Padraig Clarre are both fellow Scots. Niall, the Duke of Lennox, lost his wife and children upon being enchanted. Something he will not discuss or tolerate questions about. Niall, a quiet man who prefers his own company, received the power of healing, which has saved us much pain and suffering. Padraig is the opposite of Niall. Padraig, a jokester, has a sunny disposition and seems to see the best in every situation. He is young, was only two-and-twenty when enchanted. With the power of magic, and his immaturity, the lad is lucky to have survived this long.” Tristan’s smile was fond. He waited until she finished writing to continue.

“Lastly there is Liam. Liam, an Englishman, a noble, was someone we’d not met until that day at the village. The Brit is one of the best swordsmen I have ever encountered, and swift as well. His has the power of foresight, can see the future, but is limited to the immediate for the most part.” Tristan became pensive and ran his hand through his hair. “Liam and Gavin are always at odds. They got along well in the very beginning, like the rest of us, just trying to survive and make sense of things. Then one day they must have quarreled over something quite serious, because they’ve been at each other’s throat since.”

Gwen flipped the page. “Tell me about the village, about the day you found out you’d be enchanted.”

Chapter Fourteen

1625, SCOTLAND

The dust from the horses’ hooves gave the road before him a hazy appearance. Tristan pulled his cowl up to cover his face, blinking rapidly. His eyes stung from the combination of dirt and sweat. For days, he and the three of the King James’s knights, Niall MacTavish, Padraig Clarre, and Gavin Campbell, kept up the hard pace, stopping only to sleep for a couple of hours, catching what they could to eat, and then riding again.

The instructions were clear, the missive instructing them to present themselves before the council of knights by midday on the last day of the fasting.

Although the founder of the council had been dead for many years, the knight’s order remained. He and the three men, after numerous threats from the Norse, were more than ready to pledge their swords and those of their respective clans to join forces against the tyranny of the Vikings. It was imperative that they arrive in time to make their pledge before the hearings ended.

The clouds of smoke were the first signs of something amiss, followed by the sounds of women’s screams and children’s cries. Tristan pulled his horse to a stop and waited for the others to catch up to him.

“We can’t stop,” Padraig told them, his usually jovial façade gone. “Those poor people are going to have to fend for themselves.”

“And turn our backs on them?” The Campbell, ever the crusader, replied astonished. “I cannot do that.”

“Even if we keep our current pace, we are still dangerously close to missing the council before they separate after their last hearing. We have been delayed by obstacle after obstacle and cannot afford to be delayed again.” Niall MacTavish’s gaze pinned to the Campbell’s. “Our clans’ lives are at stake.”

“What say you McRainey?” Campbell turned his horse to face Tristan. “Do we walk away?”

Just then a woman stumbled into the road, bloody and ashen, she held up her child to them. As MacTavish reached to steady her, she fell dead, an arrow protruding from her back. The child wailed. Without thought, Tristan spurned his horse towards the village, he and Campbell riding as fast as they could urge their horses forward.

When he looked over his shoulder, Niall followed. Padraig was further back; he had dismounted and was securing the child against a tree. The child would be safe until someone came for it.

To say the scene was bloody would be the ultimate understatement; rivers of red flowed from every hut in the village. Only a handful of men remained, barely able to fight.

Young women were being thrown into cages on carts. They screamed as a few of the surviving males fought the losing battle against huge, chainmail-clad horsemen.

When the four knights burst into the village, there was a momentary stillness as everyone looked to see what occurred.

Catching the horsemen by surprise, Tristan and Gavin were able to cut several of them down. The advantage was soon gone, and by the time Niall and Padraig entered the fray, they were met with strong opposition.