-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Atlantic Bridge/Liquid Silver Books www.liquidsilverbooks.com Copyright ©2004 Rae Monet First Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint ofAtlanticBridge , August, 2004 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint ofAtlanticBridge Publishing,10509 Sedgegrass Dr,Indianapolis ,Indiana . Copyright 2004, Rae Monet. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Prologue Scotland, 1311 A.D. One more life I was unable to save. Another Wolf Warrior death radiated through Richard's body and plummeted into his consciousness. He stared at his bloodied hands. These were the same hands that had absorbed the dying breath of the Wolf Warrior that lay before him, that had captured the young man's pain while attempting to revive him as Richard had for so many who had gone before this one. Richard's forehead fell against that of the dead warrior, while his tears ran unchecked down his face. The clear wetness of his agony joined with the warrior's red blood, carving a trench in the crimson. I can no longer do this. I can no longer absorb the pain of others. It wasn't in him any longer to perform his task as the Realm healer. He staggered from his knees to his feet, swaying from the immense effort of his rising. His sole thought was that he had to get away. I have to leave this place and my people. They would never understand, of course, his need to abandon his appointed vocation, but he must depart before it destroyed him entirely. * * * * Richard stood in silence, leaning against the door as he watched the scene before him between his sister and her new husband, Roan. He could not hear Roan's quietly spoken dialog, albeit the effect on his sister was unquestionable. He need not hear Roan's promises to know how deeply his words affected Serena as her hands desperately clung to Roan. Richard ran his hand through his long, dark hair in frustration and sighed in longing as he watched the couple. He knew he should leave them to their peace, but alas, what he needed to confide would not wait for the right time. He would leave immediately following their conversation. Richard hesitated, uncertain if he should turn and grant them their privacy. He began to pivot when Serena's command stopped him. "Richard?" He hated to spoil their moment. He approached Serena, who lay upon the bed, and knelt beside a smiling Roan. "She carries my child.” There was a sense of wonderment in Roan's voice. Richard laid his hand on Serena's stomach; taking deep breaths, he nodded. "Indeed she does. A strong man lies within her womb. The child is well. Serena, you must commit to eat more and rest well in the coming months. Angus, my apprentice, will be here to help you with the birth and all will go well. Do not worry.” Richard moved back several paces, distancing himself from his sister's emotions. Roan rose off his knees to drop down next to Serena on their bed. Richard was not outfitted in his traditional healer garb. He was dressed as a warrior, his great claymore strapped to his back, and his leather armor wrapped around his body. His leather gauntlet, courtesy of Robert the Bruce, adorned his arm. The gauntlet would assure his safety anywhere inScotland . Roan voiced the words. “I can sense the finality in this visit. You are leaving, Richard. Am I right?" Richard was immediately grateful that he had not been required to say them himself. Serena gasped. "Yes.” Richard sighed as Serena swiftly rose to her feet. He could sense the protest coming from her. Roan followed and wrapped his arms around her from behind, restraining her. "My path leads me to the Bruce's men where I will lend my sword to his cause. I have made a difficult decision in light of my feelings toward my profession. I am unsure how long I will be gone." Roan held out his arm for a final farewell. “ A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne."Roan spoke the Solarian vow. We protect our own. Richard clasped his arm back. “ A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne. Take care of my sister and nephew." Serena surrounded him with her arms. “I sensed your displeasure. I had hoped it was a fleeting emotion. I was denying what I knew to be true. I should have helped you more.” She shed more tears. Richard shook his head at her guilt. "Serena, I cannot even control my reaction to absorbing others; pain, the most essential element to my craft. I am disgusted at myself and the means that led me here.” Serena opened her mouth to argue, but Richard stopped her. “No, I must do this. If I ever hope to survive this profession, I must do this." "Take care, and return to us when you are ready. Take Caine and Greystar. Please.” She lent him her support as she always had. "I will, Serena, I will.” Richard stepped back with determination and raised his hand. He turned slowly and walked out of the protected Realm. He didn't look back. Chapter One Scotland, 1312 A.D. "Who is that man, Father? The one who stands apart from the others, back by the tree?” Megan inclined her head in the man's direction with a quizzical look. Her fiery wavy hair shifted and tumbled carelessly unrestrained down her shoulders to the small of her back. "Ach, Megan, dinna set yer heart on the likes of that one,” Megan father's responded, not fooled by the innocent expression on her face. "Tell me about him, Father." "Megan, I warn ye, I ken that look. He inna one of your sparrows or small animals to heal. He is a mon, and a troubled one at that." "Father,” Megan voiced her endearment with patience. Megan loved her father despite his constant harping about the injured animals she adopted. He had always told her, Megan McKinney, you have a big heart, and someday you will be hurt. She could never pass up an animal in need, or even a person, for that matter. Anyone who was hurt she was compelled to help; her father understood this about her. Megan knew well the tone he was using on her. He was warning her, as he always did. But Megan was in need of information and, by God, she was determined to acquire it. "Megan McKinney, I dinna like that look,” her father grumbled. "Tell me what you know of him, Father.” Megan gifted him with her most beguiling and innocent dimpled smile—the smile she knew he could not resist and that would, at last, break him. "Ach, Megan, you'll be the death of me, lass.” He grunted and shifted his gaze to the dark-haired man leaning against the solitary tree, single-mindedly polishing his claymore. He seemed oblivious to the others around him, and for some reason they gave him a wide berth. No one spoke to him. No one stood near him. No one even approached him. He was alone amidst a sea of celebration, and he seemed content to be that way. The McKinneys and the MacGregors, two age-old Scottish clans, had been feuding for so long that some had lost track of the story of how it had begun. Today, however, was different. The clans had gathered at a neutral location to witness the marriage of Megan's sister, Aimee McKinney, to Stephen MacGregor. The marriage was a love match. And at the agreement of the clan lairds, a truce had been forged between them, calling a halt to the fighting that had plagued them for so many years. The two lovers had no idea how important their union was. They were in love and only wished to be together. Megan McKinney was Laird McKinney's youngest daughter, and her heart was much bigger than he wanted it to be. She was a beautiful lass, and though small, she was strong and fierce. Her blinding red locks highlighted the freckles sprinkled across her nose and made her alabaster skin look as if she would break should she be touched. Her bright green eyes tended to crinkle at the corners when she laughed, which was often. And when she laughed, two dancing dimples graced Megan's cheeks, inviting people to laugh along with her. She was much loved by both clans. He sighed at her demand. She is always seeking trouble. "They call him the Raven,” Megan's father explained. "Why, Father?” Megan continued to stare at the lonely man leaning haphazardly against the tree. "They say he is marked with the bird of death. I know not what they mean, and I dinna question it. He is said to be savage in battle, almost as if he can sense the enemy comin'. It is a disturbing feelin’ just lookin’ at him. He dinna talk to others. "They know not where he came from. About one year past he joined the men of the Bruce and was given to the MacGregor clan as a peace offerin’ to fight for them. They gladly took him in, his skills being above all others. He is a mystery." Her fath...
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