Dragon Knight's Axe Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for Mary Morgan

  Dragon Knight’s Axe

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  He would get the truth out of her.

  She was now his. Bought and paid for.

  His anger simmered just below the surface, and he allowed his eyes to flash with the fire of the dragon. Hearing her gasp, he smiled. Good, little bird. Fear me. Without giving her time to react, he swept her up and dumped her over his left shoulder and strode to the ship.

  He heard her sharp intake of breath, and then she started to pound against his back. “Put…me down,” she demanded.

  “Nae.”

  She started to kick, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. The little bird had talons. He responded with a smack to her bottom, but instead of removing his hand, he kept it against her soft curves. “I will put ye down when we are on my ship.”

  She went completely still, and then she screamed.

  Alastair dumped her onto the ground. “For the love of Brigid, did ye have to yell into my ear?”

  Fiona rubbed at her bottom and then stood. “You beast,” she spat out at him. Jumping onto a nearby boulder, she looked directly into his eyes. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again.”

  Alastair yanked her to his chest by her arms, his face mere inches from hers. “And what are ye going to do?” He watched as her eyes widened in alarm. Blue eyes that reminded him of the sky on warm summer days. Then his gaze traveled down to her lips, red as berries.

  Instantly, his beast roared to life. Claim one kiss, Alastair.

  Praise for Mary Morgan

  “She articulates a fantasy world that surrounded me in all its wonder! This one was awesome. She kept me reading way longer than I should have. I could not put the book down. The intensity and emotion she elicited in me, kept me in tears. Once I thought I was past the emotional scene, I’d dry my eyes and she’d put me right back bawling my head off. Do you know how hard it is to read and cry at the same time? You have, if you’ve found a well-written book with highly emotional scenes. And you will if you pick up this author.”

  ~Booktalk with Eileen

  ~*~

  “An adventure filled with passion and power. Two souls destined to be together if they can conquer their fears and look towards a future, instead of letting the past define them.”

  ~Tea and Book

  ~*~

  “This book has everything I look for in a good story. Sexy Highlander knights, time travel and magic.”

  ~Warrior Woman Winmill

  ~*~

  “I fell in love with the Dragon Knight series with book one, which was the story of eldest brother Duncan McKay.”

  ~The Book Reading Gals

  ~*~

  “Mary has done her magic again, with her Scottish time travel!”

  ~Nicole Laverdure

  Dragon Knight’s Axe

  by

  Mary Morgan

  Order of the Dragon Knights,

  Book Three

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, 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.

  Dragon Knight’s Axe

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Mary Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2015

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0200-3

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0201-0

  Order of the Dragon Knights, Book Three

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my editor, Amanda Barnett,

  my dear Guardian Angel with a ruler.

  Prologue

  They were an ancient order, descended from the great Tuatha De Danann, the Sidhe, or in simpler terms, the Fae. Half-human and half-Fae, each was blessed with mystical powers. They also were given Holy Relics from the Tuatha De Danann and guardianship over their dragons.

  They were known as Dragon Knights.

  With the dawn of Christianity, the dragons were systematically hunted down and slain, leaving only one. She was taken from Ireland to a land across the sea, settling in the Great Glen near Urquhart with the MacKay Clan, descendents from the MacAoidh.

  Yet, there were those who believed the Order had too much power, and they tried to possess it for themselves. They were evil and twisted, and their plan succeeded one fateful night.

  The brothers of the Clan MacKay—Dragon Knights, fought a battle. Blood spilled onto holy ground, bringing forth the wrath of the Fae. Their relics were taken and the Order banished. Each of their names were stricken from the hallowed halls of the Fae.

  However, not all was lost, for the Fae loved these men.

  Therefore, a quest for redemption was given to each. Duncan and Stephen MacKay fulfilled their journey. Now it is time for another brother to step forward.

  Alastair MacKay’s powers come from the land. Yet, he will take to the ocean in self-punishment, mocking the God of the Sea.

  Cursed and battle scarred, he is feared by many. They say he is two men. One part angel—one part monster. One would only have to look at his face to distinguish between the two.

  Nevertheless, his day of reckoning grows near.

  Alastair MacKay will have to battle the demon he created, for the love of a woman who is brave enough to love them both.

  In the end, one must die.

  Chapter One

  July 1206—Off the coast of Dublin, Ireland

  The wind whipped and snapped furiously, daring Alastair to take another step. Blinding rain s
lashed at his face as he slipped and crashed to his knees. Gripping the side of the ship with one hand and the other grasping the stern, Alastair let out a roar as he struggled to stand. His gut twisted in agony, and the bile in his stomach threatened to heave itself up onto the deck. Swallowing the bitter taste, he tried to move forward cautiously, anticipating the next lashing from the sea.

  A flash of lightning seared past him grazing his shoulder, and this time he emptied his stomach over the stern. The taste of salt and mead lingered as he wiped away the spittle, and he slid down against the side of the ship letting the sea strike without mercy at his tormented body.

  God, how he hated the ocean!

  Holding his head in his hands, he cursed inwardly at being out on this wretched water. His body was not made for the sea, since it left him sick and weak. Nae, it craved the land, beckoning him to claim what was rightfully his. All he had to do was call forth his powers of the land and it would show itself. Lifting his head, his hand shook as he slowly reached out, but instantly he closed his fingers and pounded his fist against the wood. Tremors shook his body as he fought to control the surge of energy. Thunder roared overhead, taunting him to try again, and still he would not relent.

  “Is this the day I die? Is this not why I surrendered myself to the God of the Sea? The land is my power, and yet, I am here because I failed Meggie. ’Tis my fault she died. Mine!” he howled, burying his head back in his hands.

  “If this is my destiny to die on the sea…so be it.” Pain clawed at his shoulder, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle with the Sea God.

  Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, ready to surrender. Yet, whispers of another voice floated through his thoughts. Meggie’s laughter when he first carpeted the ground with fresh heather using magic. The time he told her horse to take her to the stones where the faeries danced, and she marveled at the sight. Then there was the time she scolded him when he climbed out and down the side of his chamber window, scaring the entire family as they all witnessed his bold act. “Ye may think ye are brave, Alastair, but what ye did lacks brains. Ye must strive for something better. Ye are a Dragon Knight.”

  When he opened his eyes, he could not tell if it was seawater or tears streaming down his face. “Are ye telling me it’s not my time, wee Meggie?” He shook his head on a choked sob. How many times had he stalked the bleak abyss of death, only to hear her voice pull him back? Would his time be of her choosing?

  Something flashed to his right, and all thoughts of defeat fled his mind as he wiped the snot and water from his face.

  The canvas fluttered madly, its contents underneath threatening to spill forth. If they lost this cargo, heads would surely roll. Not only were they transporting woolens and furs, but barrels of wine and rum.

  Gritting his teeth, Alastair sought out Gunnar who stood clutching the mast pole. His gaze focused out toward the sea. Yelling out his name would do no good, for the winds howled mightily around them. His friend probably thought this storm had the power of Thor’s hammer, so fierce in its strength.

  The others also held tight, their vision turned outward, too. Did any of them notice they were about to lose their cargo?

  “Bloody Northmen, praying to their damn Gods,” he hissed. Standing, a blast of sea spray hit him in the face and he let out a curse.

  The canvas split wider, yet no one detected it, save him. With each step he took, the elements punished him with their relentless battering. Taking another step, the ship veered left and Alastair lost his footing, smacking into the back of Alrek. The ship lurched violently to the right and both were tossed against the side.

  Yanking Alrek’s tunic, he yelled, “Quit praying to your Gods, and help me tie down the canvas!”

  The man’s eyes were wide with fear, but he nodded in understanding. Another wave crashed over them causing Alastair to strike his head against the pole.

  “Damn! For the love of Manannan Mac Lir, cease this!” He wiped away the blood seeping down into his eyes. Lightning flashed overhead, and he sneered. The God of the sea mocked his command.

  Taking a hold of the rope, he pulled it around, noticing Gunnar had snapped out of his trance and managed to help secure the canvas. The ship pitched forward, but all the men held firm. Using the brief moment to bring the rope over and around the canvas, Gunnar took the other end and secured it as well.

  Another wave spilled over them, and Alastair sputtered out the salty water, swallowing again the contents of his stomach. They may fear the storm, but he, Alastair MacKay, once a powerful Dragon Knight, no longer feared anything.

  “Do your worst, Sea God,” he growled. “Today is not the day I die.”

  The ship pitched high and then crashed down into the sea. Alastair heaved his body against the side of the cargo, holding tight to the rope and keeping his sight out for any sign of the coast. If they did not make land soon, the sea would rip them to shreds.

  With a violent shudder, he let the force of his powers flow through his hands. “Bring us to ye, Great Mother,” he muttered.

  Lightning sliced through the sky descending far too close to the ship and with one last high pitch, she swayed to the right, each man gripping on with all of their might. For a few moments, the ship teetered on going over, but at the last second, it crashed back down.

  “Land!” yelled Steiner. Half standing at the bow, he pointed to the west.

  Cheers from the men erupted throughout the ship, and they shoved their fists into the air as a sign of victory over the storm. Another wave crashed over them, yet its intensity was not as severe.

  “I give thanks, Goddess,” whispered Alastair, wiping blood out of his eyes.

  Instantly, the torrential rain subsided to a light shower, and the wind settled to a breeze. He unclenched his jaw and kept his gaze on the land as the men proceeded to take up their oars.

  Gunnar finished tying up the cargo and warily stepped over to Alastair. “Holy Odin,” he gasped, grasping Alastair’s shoulder. “Your eyes, man.”

  He shook out of Gunnar’s grasp, daring him to hold his gaze. “Ye ken what I am. Say no more.” His tone more gruff than he intended as he started past him. Aye, Alastair knew they feared the Dragon Knight.

  In truth, this was the first time his friend had witnessed his power. They had all heard the story of the mighty Dragon Knight, though none questioned him when he came on board, becoming their leader many moons ago. He was a man touched by the Gods, and they considered it fate that brought him to them. So Gunnar had told him.

  Alastair now stood at the bow of the ship, his back toward the men. He did not need others gawking at him. Leaning his hip against the wood, he grasped the edge, peering out toward the land. It would take some moments for his eyes to return to their normal shade of green. A small side effect of using his powers.

  The land called out to him. It hardly mattered that ships were hugging the coast and harbor; he only saw the hills beyond. How long had he been away this time? Weeks? Months? When he was at sea, he lost count. Confusion always swamped his senses, and when the darkness of the waters engulfed him, Alastair took solace in his wood carvings. It was his only link to the land—land that was in his blood.

  Fae blood.

  A seagull cawed in the distance, and he snapped out of his trance. Swooping down across the stern, its massive wings outstretched as if welcoming them home. His brother, Stephen, would understand the symbolism, but he narrowed his eyes at the bird. Welcome or not, it was a bird of the sea.

  Alastair realized what he sought was edging closer by the moment. Green rolling hills and the scent of the land beneath his feet. To be able to sit against a tree, with no thought but that of the land and animals.

  Meggie’s spirit called out to him. Play, rest, restore. Fight the Sea God another day.

  A break in the clouds opened, and slivers of light sprinkled over the coast. There was only a whisper of wind, and the rain no more. Alastair smiled. Yes, it was good to be back near land.

 
Turning around, he pointed to a place north of the main harbor. He did not want to dock at Dublin where there would be too many English or Normans. “Take us beyond the main port to Cuthbridge and go no further inland.”

  With a nod, the men adjusted their oars to accommodate the waves and the new path. A low hum followed by chanting filled the vessel. It was their way of giving thanks to the Gods for their safe journey back home.

  Alastair nodded silently at Gunnar, understanding he was grateful, too. He shifted back around to gaze at the far off coastline. If luck were on their side, there would be only Northmen at Cuthbridge. No one else cared about the small port. The wind pulled stronger there, and many feared being tossed against the rocks.

  He gave a slight smirk. Danger flowed in his blood, and his men were skilled. With the winds light, they could easily slip past.

  Soon, they were maneuvering the ship closer to their destination, easily sneaking past the giant beasts threatening to split them apart. Birds huddled within the crevices of the other vessels, oblivious to their passing.

  Gunnar moved up to stand behind him. “All quiet in the back.”

  “Good,” stated Alastair. They certainly did not want to attract any attention.

  “One single ship at the harbor.”

  “Do ye ken who it belongs to?” Alastair kept his sight ahead of the harbor looking for anything out of the ordinary. The English were known to lie low until goods were transported off the ship. Then they would come forth to take what they deemed as taxes for the king.

  Gunnar let out a grunt. “It is the O’Quinlan’s.”

  “Niall? What might he be doing this far north?”

  “For the same reasons we are, I reckon.”

  Alastair frowned. “We trade to avoid the English and Normans. Niall has no quarrels with them.”

  Gunnar raised an eyebrow. “We all have quarrels with them.”

  “Aye,” he muttered. “Well, I hope the O’Quinlan will not mind another when we come ashore with our goods.”

  “If he does, I will remind him who you are.”

  “And who would that be?”

  Gunnar laughed and smacked Alastair on the back. “Why that would be the feared Dubh Dragon.”