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Daegan teleported into the cool air of a dark passageway inside his father’s castle in Meath. The first inhale brought a flood of memories.
Empty, murmured through his mind.
Daegan whispered, “No.” Faces of his father and sisters flooded his mind. The haunting laughter of his sisters, older by a year, running around on their rare visits echoed in the hollow space. His father calling out to him to watch over them time and again. Reminding him he was their guardian. Their eyes stared at him unmoving in death.
Daegan grabbed his head. His mind screamed with anguish and pain of all he’d left behind. He’d failed them.
A sudden flush of power knocked him to his knees.
Ruadh’s deep voice pushed inside his head. Empty.
His dragon had been trying to get through to him.
Struggling to his feet, Daegan caught his breath and said, “Yes. Empty.” He had forgotten Tristan.
Tristan appeared next to him. “You okay, boss? What took so long to teleport me?”
Daegan cleared his throat, glad Ruadh had shocked him back to the present. “I was not sure this passage would be clear.”
“It’s still better than jet lag,” Tristan joked, which meant he would not question Daegan more. Opening his palm, Daegan called up a spark of energy that turned into a flame.
The light glowed enough for him to make out the walls, floor, and ceiling not far from his head. This had seemed so much larger when he’d hidden in here once as a child. He took three steps to find a candle half burned. It might not have been lit since he lived here. He brought the flame to life and extinguished the one on his palm.
Tristan put his hand on the stone wall in the space not wide enough to stretch out both arms. He spoke softly. “Did you miss your landing spot, boss?”
“No.” Daegan scowled. “This is a hidden escape route from my father’s bed chamber.”
“Where does it go?”
“There are two paths. One leads to an underground tunnel where his people could escape the castle if being attacked, but that was before I came along. The other direction takes you up to the battlements.”
“What are battlements?” Tristan asked, still not appearing too sure about their location.
“It’s the area at the top of the castle structure where warriors defended against an attack.”
Tristan said, “Ah. The roof.”
“Your architectural history could use some work.” Daegan’s lips lifted in a reluctant smile. “Follow me.” He led the way. He inhaled the dank air and his mind wandered to a time when he’d believed he lived at the top of the world, and the food chain.
The deadliest dragon of his time.
His red dragon had squashed uprisings and flown nonstop to maintain peace in the region. Not just for his family, but for the vulnerable friends, nearby villages, castle folk, and allies he’d been born to also protect.
That had been the only reason for his birth.
To protect the weak and those in need.
He’d failed.
Castle empty! Ruadh growled, snapping Daegan back to the moment.
He growled back, but his dragon had the right of it. He could not fix yesterday, only today.
At one point, the passage continued until he had to choose to take the steps on his left descending or ascend a circular stairway on his right. He turned to go up, stepping into the open space inside of a turret where a gentle breeze ruffled his hair.
“Great lookout post,” Tristan noted, coming up right behind him.
“True. ’Tis called a turret. Take care not to show your face.” Daegan stared out over the lush hillsides covered in a rich shade of green he believed only existed on this island. The forest far below the castle still grew thick and full. He recalled the days of clearing new tree growth from the hill leading up to the castle, which prevented the enemy from approaching unnoticed.
No one who resembled the villagers of his time walked the path to the castle today. No sheep or cattle grazed in the open land tended to by a young shepherd.
No families lived here anymore.
Tristan took it all in, too. “So this was home? Did your dragon land in the yard down there?”
“’Tis the bailey.” Daegan glanced at the area Tristan indicated. “That stone wall around the land next to the castle is called a curtain wall.”
Tristan grinned at him. “Feels good to be the one who knows the lay of the land here, doesn’t it?”
Daegan returned his grin. “Yes. I admit ’tis often annoying in this new world. So many terms, gadgets, vehicles, and airplanes, none of which I had ever heard of.”
“Yeah, I would have been totally lost if I were sent back in time,” Tristan murmured, drawing Daegan’s attention to the camaraderie he had only enjoyed once in his life with Fadil.
That friend had attacked him on the last day they spoke.
Tristan would lay his life down for Daegan. Of all the pain this trip brought him, Daegan would prefer no one else along with him than his second-in-command.
Tristan was a true friend.
White tents covered the area of the bailey once kept clear for his dragon to land. Tables had been set up with a variety of offerings on each one. Throngs of people went from one spot to the next with large paper bags hanging from their arms. Children waited in line at one table as a woman painted on a boy’s face.
The smell of food he recognized from Atlanta reached him, but not aromas from a time when Daegan had lived here. “What is all that going on below?”
Leaning to where he could see through one of the slots in the parapet wall, Tristan said, “Your dad’s castle is now a tourist destination. Just checked my phone. It’s a little after nine. A nice Sunday for tourists to be out. Looks like a fair of some sort in the ... bailey.”
Seeing the desecration of his father’s home punched him in the gut.
Ruadh’s voice smoked through Daegan’s mind. Wish to return to our time.
Daegan paused at his dragon’s words. Would he go back two thousand years if he had the choice?
Part of him longed to see the family he’d lost once more, while the other part gave thanks for what he had today. After the Beladors, who became his council, rescued him from TÅμr Medb, they’d accepted him as their dragon king.
His anger seeped away. He could not return to the past any more than he could bring his father and two sisters back to life.
Backing away from the wall, Tristan pondered, “Garwyli made a strong case for finding a Luigsech. What’s the chance one works here?”
“To be honest, Tristan, I thought on it a bit then realized with the millions of humans living today, we may find a Luigsech, but I seriously doubt we find one who still carries the dragon history. Think about it. With your Internet, you can find pretty much anything. Tzader contacted Quinn, asking him to relay any news. With all the resources of today’s Beladors, we would have heard immediately if someone had stumbled on significant information.”
“True. Plus someone with any knowledge of a dragon would be anxious to be interviewed. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame.”
Returning to the reason he’d teleported here, Daegan laid out his plan. “We will go through my father’s bedroom, then the steward’s quarters to begin our search, if those areas have not been changed drastically. If we find nothing, we shall head to what had been set aside for the squire’s family quarters, but I doubt we find anything written there. In fact, I’ll be surprised to find anything of value written in the past, still in this castle.”
“Germanus was a steward, right?”
“Yes. He held my father’s trust, and mine. He had a good life with all he needed. But it hadn’t been enough. He wanted to be king.” That miserable speck of humanity had made a deal with the god Abandinu to live forever after King Gruffyn forbid worshipping that particular god. Abandinu created a realm where he put Germanus and flying creatures to reside in forever. Not what Germanus had expected. The former steward jumped on a chance to escape from being eternally exiled by making a deal to aid in Evalle’s capture.
Daegan had no remorse over the steward’s death at her hands.
“Man, you had a bunch of enemies back then, Daegan.”
Turning to head down the stairs, Daegan said, “I did. It appears I have even more today.” After navigating the tunnels, he reached the secret doorway into his father’s bedroom and waited with his ear at the door where voices indicated that someone was in the room. Once silence fell for a minute, he opened the four-foot-tall door created as part of the wall, and stood.
The sight of his father’s bed still in this room took his breath. His eyes stung, but he blinked away the tears.
Daegan’s gaze had wandered to the spot where his da had carved a notch in the wall for every year Daegan grew until manhood. The last day his da had marked his height at seventeen years, he’d told Daegan, “One day, you will watch your son grow to this height and I will be here to make his marks next to yours.”
“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked as he climbed through the opening and closed it behind him.
Unwilling to admit the memory, Daegan glared at the bed with a modern cloth covering, not furs. “The bed clothing is not correct.”
“You want to tell them?” Tristan asked, smiling.
It was enough to ease Daegan out of the sadness. Casting a hard glance at Tristan, Daegan replied, “Definitely not.”
Stepping toward the heavy doorway where a gold rope had been hooked between two stands, Tristan glanced out in each direction. “I’ll watch for the next tour while you search.”
Another tour group came up the hallway before Daegan had finished his search. He teleported the two of them to the hidden passageway again. Once the tour had moved on, he teleported them back to the room now that he believed they would not surprise a human.
Daegan left with only painful memories from the empty room as he and Tristan stepped into the silent hallway. He led the way to the wide wooden stairs, which would take them down to the great room, but bypassed the stairway and continued to take a second set of steps to the kitchen.
Servants had used this stairway to run between the kitchen and private chambers of the family.
Daegan had to turn his large body sideways. “If I had taken these stairs in my time, I would have torn them down and built the space wider.”
“To make it more comfortable for someone of your size?”
“No. I could teleport anywhere, which I did often. I realize now the servants would have benefitted by a wider stairwell for carrying things.”
At the last step, he entered the undercroft where supplies had once been stored. Now, stacks of printed materials and a store of bottled water had been placed here. He paused, listening. Voices sounded nearby.
Keeping his head bent to pass through the low-ceiling room with a musty odor, he and Tristan entered what had been the cook’s domain in Daegan’s time and encountered a human couple. They were admiring cooking tongs and other utensils forged by the blacksmith.
Both of them jumped at Daegan and Tristan walking in. Always on his toes, Tristan said, “Thank goodness. I thought we’d never find our way out of here. We’ve lost our tour guide. Which way should we go?”
The middle-aged woman with fluffed-up hair and plump cheeks pointed to a doorway. “Go back to the main hall where you started. You should be able to jump into a tour there.”
“Thank you.”
Daegan took the lead again to exit the kitchen and entered the large room for meals. He had to move around clumps of tourists talking excitedly about the castle to reach the central area that had once been the great hall.
Waving a hand at Tristan, Daegan said, “This way.” He headed to where a guide spouted her practiced mantra at the far end of the room.
Daegan had taken several steps and stopped short to read a brass plate on the stone wall. The plaque described his family's history, as if one small plaque could tell everything. And not a mention of a dragon.
Tristan remained silent at his side.
Daegan mentally thumped himself for being sidetracked again. He continued on until he’d exited into a long hallway. As they walked, he could not prevent himself from slowing to glance inside each room. One cozy area held a tall flat loom leaned against a wall. Not the one he’d brought from another land just to gift his sisters when they visited, but similar.
He could almost smell the fresh wool threads and his sisters’ flowery soap scent, which had once filled this room.
Up ahead, the tour group had paused at the doorway of what had been the steward’s room. They snapped photos with their phones and asked questions, then their guide moved them along.
When Daegan reached the room, he waited until Tristan said, “All clear.”
That was his signal to enter the room while Tristan remained in the hallway to keep watch.
Daegan took in the array of display tables supporting sturdy boxes with thick glass tops. He lifted one most humans would be unable to pick up due to the heavy structure and found a wire attached to it that ran to a small black box mounted on the wall.
A red light blinked on and off.
Security.
Tristan had pointed out similar devices to Daegan.
Lowering the case back in place, Daegan began studying the contents in each one. Some had newer dates from the 1500s, but he finally stepped up to one table where two display cases were labeled with dates from the turn of the century.
Or rather, the turn of the century when he lived here.
The cases had been bolted down and held thick journals of parchment paper. He recognized the perfect script Germanus had used to record all accounting for his king. Once Daegan determined which journal had been the older of the two, he pointed his finger and flicked it left to right, kinetically turning the pages.
A brass plate indicated the documents in this room had been placed on display for the general public, but also indicated additional records were being kept at some historical conservatory.
Those would do Daegan little good. Only this one. It appeared to have been one of the last journals of King Gruffyn’s time. He found nothing that hinted at where a grimoire might be hidden, but he had expected no such clue. Still, he held out hope that reading this would jog something from his memory for where to look.
Due to his ability to read the pages quickly, he finished that one and moved to the journal which had a plaque stating it was the last one kept during King Gruffyn’s life.
More kinetic flipping and scanning, until he sadly came closer to the last page. It felt as if he lived through losing his father once again.
A thick knot formed in his throat.
With a handful of pages left, he flipped to one with a different handwriting than the scribbling by Germanus. These delicate swirls seemed to be a more feminine writing to Daegan.
While Daegan had great respect for the intelligence of women in today’s world, his father had lived in a time when women were not educated to read and write, except for females of dragon blood. This clearly appeared to have been written by a woman, though.
He scanned the page, reading how Germanus had disappeared and was feared dead. He snorted at that, wanting to update this journal with the truth.
At the end of the first page of newly penned notes, the person signed it Noirín Luigsech, the king’s squire.
His heart pumped hard as a fist pummeling an enemy.
He pointed a trembling finger to swipe the page and read more. She went on to declare the king had requested she remain as his squire. As was normal, he moved her entire family into the castle, which included her parents and two sisters. Finding a squire with multiple sisters had been considered most desirable. Female squires were valued for their long memory, which in hindsight made him realize how wrong men of his era had been not to teach them to read and write.
Females had shown a better ability to retain details and carry a family’s history forward.
Bards were similar in that they wrote songs to the history, but they focused more on entertainment than mundane details.
This woman had been an exceptional addition to his father’s staff.
Daegan chastised himself for not taking Garwyli’s words to heart and hunting the Luigsech descendants. What would it hurt to at least look?
Holding his breath, Daegan flipped to the last page with text.
That one ended with erratic scrawling as if penned in a hurry. Her words tore his heart apart.
The king passed this day. The dragons come for which we have no defense. I fear we face our last day on earth.
Dropping his hands to each side of the case, Daegan leaned in, breathing hard. His shoulders shook with anger, hurt, and bone-deep anguish.
Damn Queen Maeve.
Ruadh rumbled. No enemy to kill.
I cannot stand this helpless feeling, he told his dragon.
We will find enemy.
Still facing away from the room, Tristan whispered, “You okay, boss? Your energy is shaking the floor.”
Daegan exhaled and straightened. He calmed his power and swallowed hard. “’Tis all good.”
“I hear voices at the end of the hall. Did you find anything?”
Waiting until he stepped over and ducked under the golden rope, he told Tristan, “Not on the grimoire, but I did find names related to the Luigsech female my father brought in to be his squire. There is a very thin possibility this woman would have been shown where our volume of the grimoire had been hidden since my father did not inform me of its existence. Still, with nothing else to go on, we should try to find a link to these Luigsechs. ’Tis time to contact Adrianna.”
Tristan turned surprised eyes to him. “No, shit? That’s ... that’s pretty freaking amazing.”
In spite of the tangled emotions Daegan had suffered since arriving at the castle, he smiled. His right-hand man had a way of lifting his spirits regardless of what they faced.
Daegan clamped a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Very amazing. What say you we take a quick look at the squire’s rooms then eat while we wait to hear from Adrianna? She indicated it would not take Isak long to locate someone if he had specific names.”
After a quick review of the squire family rooms, Daegan came out. “Just as I thought. No written records there. I need a place to contact Adrianna uninterrupted. Let’s go to—”
Tristan interrupted., “Do you hear that, boss?”
Daegan had been ignoring the roar of too many voices with his ability to hear everything. Now, he tuned in.
“That can’t be a dragon,” someone argued loudly.
“Oh, shit,” Tristan muttered.
