Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Mary Morgan

  Quest of a Warrior

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  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

  Epilogue

  Glossary of the Fae Realm

  A Note from the Author

  A word about the author…

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

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Intoxication can unleash the beast within a Fae.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Conn fought the bolt of desire spearing a path throughout his body. Her touch spoke volumes—an invitation to taste. Never had he longed to kiss a human like this wee lass. His heart beat loudly, and he found himself unable to move. She was a goddess of the moonlight. It danced off her face and hair, and he trembled before her. Ivy’s fingers traced down his cheek and across his lips. He was helpless to contain the growl that escaped from his mouth.

  The rush of passion overtook him, and Conn slammed the door on his mind. Grasping Ivy around the waist, he hoisted her up on top of the bridge. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he lowered his mouth to feast on something he dared not take. The first brush of her soft lips against his own ignited a hunger he could no longer contain. Taking her moan deep into him, Conn glorified in the sensation of her mouth—one filled with a honeyed sweetness.

  The Fae warrior became just a man for the first time. Something primal burst within him. Emotions he had never felt left him dizzy, spiraling to a physical plane. He craved them all. His lips seared a course down her neck, to her throat, and then recaptured the velvet warmth of her mouth.

  Praise for Mary Morgan

  “I just love starting one of Mary Morgan’s stories. Curling up into a chair, I’m prepared to love her hero and heroine and get a booster shot of time travel.”

  ~Booktalk with Eileen

  ~*~

  “A time-traveling novel of exceptional design, this book draws the reader in and leaves them wanting more at the end.”

  ~InD’tale Magazine

  ~*~

  “Be prepared for an emotional ride that will allow for you to cry, laugh, be sad, happy, confused, elated, and passion filled.”

  ~The Book Junkie Reads

  ~*~

  “Mary Morgan never ceases in delighting the reader with her imagination.”

  ~Dianne Rich

  Quest of a Warrior

  by

  Mary Morgan

  Legends of the Fenian Warriors,

  Book 1

  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.

  Quest of a Warrior

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 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, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1512-6

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1513-3

  Legends of the Fenian Warriors, Book 1

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Susan Fox and Theresa Baer,

  two beautiful women who are

  on my Morgan Warriors Street Team.

  I required an Irish name for the cat in the story,

  and they both thought of Neala,

  which means “Champion” in Irish Gaelic.

  A perfect name for this feisty feline.

  Thank you, Susan and Theresa, with love!

  Author’s Note

  If you need it, a glossary of terms can be found

  on page 385.

  Prologue

  In the beginning…when the world was new, Fae and humans lived peacefully together. However, as the centuries passed, fear and distrust evolved. The Fae continued to love the humans, but they believed it was time to safeguard the realms. Therefore, they appointed the Fenian Warriors to guard and protect the domain between mortal and faery. But most importantly, these warriors were to assist the humans.

  When evil threatened to destroy a clan, country, or civilization, the Fae council called upon these warriors. Their orders were to steer a new course and aid the mortals. This group of elite warriors had the power to travel through time, called, the Veil of Ages, supporting those in need. They were not to alter the timeline, nor the life strings of a human. To do so, would be catastrophic.

  Ancient and powerful, the Brotherhood of the Fenian Warriors was second to only the Fae King and Queen’s powers. They have lived among us for thousands of years—watching, aiding, guiding. They could be a professor, lawyer, knight, tavern owner, or a simple farmer.

  Whatever was required, the warriors did so without complaint.

  Yet, even these great warriors had their weaknesses as with any race—be it human or Fae. Though they have used their powers for good, there were times when a select few deemed it wiser to interfere without the knowledge of the Fae council. They twisted the laws to suit their own purpose and changed the course of time.

  When three Fenian Warriors left the Brotherhood to aid a clan—the Dragon Knights of Urquhart, they brought the fury of the Fae down upon their heads. Their punishment should have been swift, but the Fae always believed in redemption—even for one of their own.

  This is the story of Conn MacRoich. One of the most powerful Fae warriors to be gifted with many powers. His status among the Fae is legendary. He walked among the most ancient of kings and queens, battled alongside the Templars, and sat at King Arthur’s round table with the other knights. Robert the Bruce of Scotland granted him lands after the Battle at Bannockburn, and King Brian Boru of Ireland considered him a brother. Such were the tales the Fae bards still weave today.

  Yet, in a quest to save the Dragon Knights, he stepped away from the Brotherhood and his own people.

  There were whispers that Conn had lived amo
ng the humans far too long. Some said he should be stripped of his powers and be made to live out his days in the Hall of Remembrance.

  The council heard his account. A sentence was decreed.

  In the end, Conn MacRoich was given one final quest to help another. A lost soul whose destiny he altered centuries ago. Furthermore, he must do so without the use of his Fenian magic.

  Dare to find out what happened to one of the greatest heroes of Fae and Human. Travel through these pages and be a witness to the tale of a legendary Fenian Warrior.

  Chapter One

  Beneath the Hill of Tara, Ireland—Late Summer, the season of pleasure and growth in the Fae Realm

  “To sit in silence requires a quiet mind and a peaceful heart.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Conn clenched his fists so tightly, the veins threatened to burst, spilling his blood against the walls of his prison. A new day was dawning as the sun’s tentative rays streaked through the canopy of trees above him. They teased him as they inched closer—tormenting him with his confinement. Morose gloom weighed heavily on him with each breath he took. It splintered a piece of his soul.

  Yet, he found he could not ignore the calling to greet the new day. It was in his Fae blood, seeping into every pore of his being. The land called out to him, and he responded in welcome, no matter the circumstances of his current situation.

  Leaning against the crystal wall, Conn gazed upward, his body tensed in anticipation.

  He willed the light to brush against the glass rooftop and touch him with its warmth. Watching as the last star blinked from his sight, he could feel the stirrings of rebirth—a new beginning, and he stepped away from the wall. With each step, the pulse of the bare earth surged through the soles of his feet, extending upward throughout his body.

  Conn embraced the energy.

  His hands unclenched, and he reached outward—stretching as far as he could to capture the flimsy radiance. Minutes passed, but he could sense the time drawing near. As the light shimmered through his fingertips, he absorbed the essence, breathing deeply.

  Although fleeting, this moment was enough for him as he eased his hands back down. Collapsing to the ground, he pressed his palms to the earth in reverence. This was his daily ritual—one where he had lost track of how many times he had done so in this dungeon of a room.

  An area of space with four crystal walls, the earth beneath him, and a prism of glass above him, so he could witness each new day—each season within his prison.

  Yet, with each passing hour, day, and month, Conn grew restless and bitter. Bitterness toward those that would still call him family, friend, brother. They made him wait in this room, refusing to listen to his account. Ignoring his pleas for a swift and fair trial.

  Each day food was brought to him. And each day he issued a request to meet with the Fae council. The Fae guard delivered the same message at the end of day. “When the Fae were ready, they would summon him. This was a time of reflection, and he should use it wisely.”

  Conn dug his hands into the dirt. “Rid me of this anger, Mother Danu. I find it growing daily.” Though in his heart, he believed she also had turned her back on him, as well as his own people.

  Removing his hands, he blew out a sigh and leaned back on his thighs. Closing his eyes, he fought the wave of despair. It left him weak and frustrated of life. In his entire existence this was the first time Conn had walked such a path of emptiness. However, his thoughts did not waver on his decision to join his other two brothers. He had done what he believed to be right. When Fenian Warriors, Liam and Rory MacGregor pleaded their case to assist the Dragon Knights of ridding the world of the evil druid, Lachlan, Conn willingly sacrificed all.

  He fisted his hands on his knees. “We did not alter time,” he hissed out into the silence. “Only shielded and protected the knights. How could you have expected us to stay hidden and watch as the worlds—human and Fae collapsed into darkness? Have we not done the same before? Why is this time so different?”

  Conn bowed his head. “If you deem our act unjust, then take my life, Mother Danu. Return my life force to the cosmos.” Fury erupted within him. Grabbing a handful of soil, he tossed it against the wall. “End this!”

  “Do not sit at my feet and ask me to take your life, Conn MacRoich! I give life! Your blood was mingled with mine thousands of years ago. You speak as a human and not Fae. Your time of reflection has ended. The choices you make today will be your new journey. Choose wisely, my Warrior, for the road ahead is unstable. Yet, first, you must address the Fae council.”

  His body trembled as he slowly stood. The glass dome disappeared, and the tree limbs gracefully made their way down the sides of the walls, absorbing the crystals. The four walls splintered into an array of colorful lights, forcing Conn to shield his eyes from their radiance.

  Breathing heavily, he lifted his head to the circle of sunlight streaming down. “I will and always shall be your Warrior, Mother Danu. No matter the path I choose. Thank you.”

  A soft breeze hinting of roses swept across his face, and Conn inhaled her scent.

  “Great Goddess! Did they not give you any fresh clothing?” bellowed Ronan.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Conn smiled weakly. Looking down at his soiled, tattered clothing, he replied, “I would assume by your shocked tone that I require new clothes?”

  “Aye, most definitely. Ye have been ordered to appear before the Fae council. I thought it best to be the one to deliver the good news.”

  Conn arched a brow at the man’s speech.

  Ronan laughed. “And before ye say another word, I am still embroiled in a Scottish clan affair and find I must maintain the language.”

  Turning around, Conn embraced his friend. “I am happy to see it was you and not an unfamiliar face to escort me to the council.”

  The warrior leaned back, and his face turned somber. “I made the request on the day they brought ye here.”

  “Have you given your account of the battle?” asked Conn.

  “Aye. The moment I returned.”

  “And here you stand, unpunished?”

  Ronan rubbed a hand through his beard, a smile forming on his mouth. “I approached the council and gave them my terms.”

  Shocked, Conn shook his head. “Terms? What I would have given to be present to see the reaction of the council members—especially the administrator.”

  “I believe some of them paled,” replied Ronan. “One of my conditions was to be your escort when they called ye forth.”

  “Sweet Goddess,” he muttered.

  His friend shrugged. “What could they do? I broke nae laws.” He placed a hand on Conn’s shoulder. “And so I would do so again.”

  Conn nodded. “Any other conditions I should be aware of? You do realize I may be put instantly to death.”

  “Nae,” reassured the warrior. “Your life—including Liam and Rory’s were spared many moons ago from a request made by an individual.”

  “By whom?” demanded Conn.

  “Margaret MacKay MacFhearguis,” Ronan uttered softly.

  Stunned by the revelation, Conn went to lean against one of the oak trees. “Why?”

  “She deemed too many had suffered and died. The Fae granted her request immediately. They would do anything for their beloved Dragon Knights, especially the keeper of the Book of Awakening—Margaret.”

  Conn had roamed the earth for thousands of years and in that time, not one human had pledged to see him safe. On the contrary, they came to him for aid, protection, wisdom, and at times, anger. His heart filled with a deep respect for Margaret, and he prayed the day would come when he could tell her how much the plea meant to him.

  “’Tis hard to fathom?” asked Ronan.

  Nodding, he moved away from the tree. “Never has this happened in my lifetime.”

  Ronan chuckled softly. “The humans do surprise us from time to time, aye?”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “Would ye like me
to do the honors with your appearance?”

  Conn glanced at him as they moved through the forest. “Absolutely not. You would see me in shimmering clothing.”

  “Ye wound me,” teased his friend. “Yet, ye are to appear in your royal tunic.”

  “I have a fresh one in my chambers. Surely, the council can wait until I’m cleaned and in proper clothing.”

  “Not wise to keep the members waiting.”

  Conn smirked. “Like I care?”

  Ronan rolled his eyes. “’Tis your trial.”

  Emerging from the trees, Conn’s steps faltered as the light touched his shoulders. Casting his gaze to the valley below, he inhaled deeply. The Fae realm was buried far below the Hill of Tara, yet, this portion of the kingdom mirrored the one above. Rolling hills in various hues of green surrounded a valley rich with Fae life. Colors so vibrant and opulent, the bucolic scene stole the breath from his lungs. To the east and west marked the ancient waterfalls—one denoting the birth of a Fae, and the other, in the west, a passing of life. He sighed, keeping his sight on the waterfall in the west—Tir na Og, the Land of Forever. How many Fenian brothers had he lost to this place? Too many!

  Slowly lifting his head to the north, Conn let his sight fall on the great palace of the King, Queen, Fae council, and the Brotherhood of the Fenian Warriors. Massive towers shimmered with all the colors of Earth’s crystals, along with those from the Fae’s homeland—Taralyn.

  “How long has it been?” inquired Ronan quietly.

  Snapping out of his thoughts, Conn ran his hand through his hair. “One hundred years, ten months, two days, five hours, and thirty seconds.” He looked at his friend. “Those are Fae times.”

  Ronan’s eyes went wide. “Ye roamed above for over a thousand years?”

  Conn shrugged and glanced away. “There was much to do.”

  “Then I must warn ye to beware the whispers, my friend.” He clapped a hand on Conn’s shoulder.

  “Whispers?” Shrugging out of his friend’s grasp, he made his way down the hill.

  Ronan was alongside him in two strides. “They say ye have stayed far too long with the humans. Ye think like one.”