Free Warriors Of Legend by Dana D'Angelo Kathryn Loch Kathryn Le Veque

hospital.”
    For the first time, Padraigan’s gaze moved to Destry, lying still and pale in Conor’s enormous arms. Her gaze softened as she studied the lovely face and a hand came up as if to touch her, but just as quickly pulled away. There was reverenced in her expression, in her tone, as she spoke.
    “Fanacht, morrigan,” she whispered. “Gnáthlá agus oiche og ceanna; tar ar cúl do sinne.”
    Conor’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he took a step back as if to protect Destry from this strange and mysterious woman. He was becoming seriously upset by all of this, the strange people, the odd land, and the fact that he didn’t feel well at all. Something terrible had happened but it was like living a nightmare; he couldn’t seem to get any help. No one understood what he needed. Short of walking to Drogheda, which was just a few miles to the east, he wasn’t sure what more he could say or do to stress his urgency. Now, with this bizarre woman repeating the very words that Destry had sworn she had heard in her dreams, he was at his limit of patience.
    “Where in the hell did you hear that?” he hissed.
    Padraigan looked at him, not at all offended by his tone. The High King had always been extremely protective of his wife, a woman he was deeply and hopelessly in love with. Their love story was legendary, so much so that vying factions in the kingdom had gone to great lengths to preserve it. Now, they were back and the situation threatened to explode all over again. And it would if she could not get the man to safety.
    “I called to her and she heard me,” she replied simply. “That is why you are here, my lord. She brought you here. You must come with me.”
    Conor’s fury was being overwhelmed by confusion and, if he were to admit it, some fear. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Who in the hell are you? And no more of this bullshit you’ve been feeding me. Who in the hell are you really?”
    Sounds of horses could be heard and they both turned to see the little people returning with four horses. But these weren’t any horses; they were shaggy and fat, oddly shaped. Padraigan motioned towards the beasts.
    “Come, my lord,” her calm tone now had a sense of urgency to it. “We must hurry.”
    Conor stood his ground. “Hurry where?” he demanded. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you are.”
    Padraigan remained calm. “I told you, my lord,” she said. “I am Padraigan the White. I am your litrithe . You do not remember now but you will in time. You must trust me and come with me; otherwise, your life is in great danger.”
    Conor just stared at the woman, the sense of dread that had been gnawing at him now sprouting wings and taking flight. “My sorceress?” he repeated, translating her word. “What is…?”
    “There is no time, my lord. You must come now. I will explain everything when we are safe.”
    Conor pulled Destry tighter, glancing around to the overgrown mound, the heavy foliage, the fields that were wild and untamed. Overhead, clouds skipped across the unnaturally blue sky. It all looked fairly normal to him but something was different, something he couldn’t put his finger on. His defiance began to slip in favor of genuine fear.
    “What in the hell is going on?” he finally pleaded, a mere whisper compared to his usual tone.
    Padraigan sensed his despair; she had known this would be his reaction and struggled to get the man moving without sitting down and telling him the entire story of his existence. She would do it later, when they were safe. But at this moment, they needed to leave. The urgency was growing.
    “Please,” Padraigan begged. “I will tell you everything once we reach safety. Will you please trust me?”
    Conor wasn’t sure he had a choice but he really didn’t want to go with her. He wanted to find his car, but his car wasn’t there and neither was the carpark, or Aisling, or the small farm that sat just to the east of the mound.