Chapter Ten

Liam should have known better, but his thoughts of joining Glamis for a few hours clouded his mind and in truth, he never believed his brother would prove a threat. He still thought of Diarmuid as the youth he left behind, but his brother was no child. He was a man now who feared for his older brother’s safety. Liam had not returned home as promised and when Diarmuid ventured out to find out why, he heard the stories about the fiend that lived in the forest.

Diarmuid stood before him now with men flanking his side ready to do his bidding.

Loucetios whinnied and complained, not liking his freedom compromised with his reins tied to a tree. Cormac stood back behind Diarmuid, shaking with fear.

Liam could not tell if his squire worried being so close to where the fiend lived, or if he feared his wrath for aiding Diarmuid in his search.

“I am sorry, Sir,” Cormac hurried to tell him. “But your brother tricked—”

“Silence,” his brother warned. His squire lowered his head.

“What is the name of this, Diarmuid?”

“Do you go to her, the demon,” Diarmuid clarified, “with your own free will?”

“I know of no demon.” He made a move toward Loucetios, but his brother withdrew his sword. The scraping of metal told him the others did likewise. His gaze leveled on Diarmuid. “Do you plan on slaying me?”

“Only if you do not come peaceably. Your soul can still be saved.” Diarmuid glanced at the cloud-covered sky before narrowing his gaze on Liam again. “Step fully out of the shadows.”

He knew what his brother’s ploy meant. He wanted to see if he would burn once the sun’s rays hit his flesh. The day proved overcast and dreary. Even Glamis would not burn—at first. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug of indifference and stepped forward as ordered.

He stood there as his brother stared at him. Waiting.

“Well?” Liam held out his hands to the side in question. “What now? Shall I dance for you next?”

“Do not mock me.”

“’Tis not my wish to do so,” Liam said, not quite hiding his anger. “I am trying to understand the meaning behind your ploy here. You have drawn a weapon against me. You have dragged my squire out here, and you hold my horse prisoner. And for what? So you can talk of demons as if you expect one to swoop in from hell’s fire and drag us back down.”

Diarmuid’s stance faltered, but then his gaze shifted and Liam knew his brother’s eyes locked onto his neck, where the small pinpricks stood out against the paleness of his skin. His brother inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. “You protect her, Liam. Seize him,” he ordered his men.

Liam withdrew his sword. He could not let them take him. They would torture the truth out of him. He would not give Glamis’ whereabouts freely, but even the strongest and the bravest had a breaking point.

The first man came forward. He flipped his blond hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head and grinned at Liam. He swung his broadsword across his body as if he planned to fell a tree. Liam’s sword clanged against the blond man’s weapon in protest, blocking his advances. The other darker haired man moved with intent, but Liam whirled to greet him, his sword making contact with the man’s neck. The man’s sword slipped from his hand as he fell back, his life’s blood leaving his body in spurts of red. He returned to the blond man whose face had lost all color as he stared at his fallen friend. The blond man took a step back and Liam lowered his sword, believing the fight was over, but his brother surprised him for the second time this day.

Diarmuid flew at him, his sword thrusting forward. “Better you die now than later at the demon’s hand.” Before Liam could react, his brother’s sword pierced his side.

He met his brother’s gaze in disbelief. Indeed his brother looked horrified as he yanked his sword out of his flesh. Liam staggered back and fell on one knee. His hand gripped his side where the blood soaked his jerkin.

Aaaaaah!

The cry of agony pierced the air, like the call of a banshee ready to swoop down and claim the doomed.

Liam glance toward the forest in fear, knowing his beloved was coming. “Glamis, no.” Liam choked, spitting up blood.

The wind picked up, whipping his hair away from his face.

His brother lifted his sword ready to fight whatever came at him. The blond man dropped his sword and ran, his squire, Cormac close behind.

Liam gripped his side, trying to stop the flow of blood. “Go, Diarmuid. Go before it is too late.”

His brother glanced at him. Sorrow filled his eyes and the lines of age fell away to reveal the youth who once loved him. “May God have mercy on your soul, Liam.” He raised his sword then and Liam realized his brother’s intent. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he could not defend himself. He fought battles without injury, but he would die this day at the hands of his brother.