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

up, her face within inches of his as she fixed him in the eye. “Where did it go?” she suddenly scowled. “Did Aisling take it? Where in the hell did she go? Oh, my God, my head is killing me.”
    Her head flopped back down on his shoulder and Conor laid his cheek against the top of her head, rocking her gently. In spite of the bizarre and concerning circumstances, he had her just where he wanted her. He could have stayed like this forever. But Padraigan approached the pair timidly, rattling him out of his fantasy world.
    “Please, my lord,” she said. “We must leave immediately.”
    Destry’s head came up again, her eyes wide as she looked at him. “What did she say?” she hissed. “What kind of language is that?”
    Conor pursed his lips reluctantly; he didn’t particularly want to tell her, fearful that it might set her off. But he had no choice.
    “Gaelic Irish,” he said quietly.
    Her face screwed up, confused. “Doesn’t she speak English?”
    Conor looked at the tiny wisp of a woman “Do you understand English?
    Padraigan stared at him, having no idea what he had said. After a moment of confusion, she pointed to the horses again.
    “Please, my lord,” she begged. “Please ride with me to safety. Time grows short and your children await.”
    Conor’s eyebrows lifted. “Children?” he repeated. “What children?”
    Padraigan’s gaze moved between Conor and Destry as a faint smile graced her lips. “Your sons,” she said. “Perhaps they will help you remember.”
    Destry was looking at Conor as the woman spoke her bizarre language. It was clear that he was communicating with her but Destry couldn’t understand a word. She felt like she was on another planet. Her head was killing her and her body ached terribly, and she was feeling woozy and weary. With a big surge of strength, she suddenly pushed herself out of Conor’s enormous arms and almost fell to the ground.
    Conor steadied her as she gained her feet and her balance but she shrugged him off. Looking around, she spied the mound several yards away and her eyebrows lifted; it was lumpy and overgrown with foliage. It didn’t look anything like the well–manicured mound she had arrived at a few hours earlier. It didn’t even look like the same relic, in any way. An odd sense of foreboding swept her.
    “What happened to the mound?” she asked, pointing.
    He turned to look at it. “I have no idea,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t look like it did just a few minutes ago.”
    Destry’s hand went to her head, a gesture of utter bafflement, as she started to walk in the direction of the mound. “It’s all covered with bushes and grass,” she said, overwhelmed with confusion and curiosity. She turned to Conor. “You said we were thrown out of the tunnel?”
    He was walking after her. “Yes,” he replied. “When I woke up, we were about three or four meters from the tunnel entrance.”
    Destry wasn’t feeling at all well but her sense of curiosity, and fear, were taking over. “Then there must have been an explosion,” she was trying to be logical about it. “Is it possible that the explosion threw us out and made it look like this? It looks like some of the tunnels are collapsed.”
    He just shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. “Whatever damage you see looks as if it has been that way for years. And none of the overgrowth has been disturbed, as it would have been by an explosion.”
    She couldn’t wrap her mind around his assertion. “But there has to have been an explosion,” she insisted. “How else would we have been blown out of the tunnel?”
    Conor was feeling just as much trepidation as she was but he was more in control of it. “I have no idea,” he replied. “But it happened.”
    She looked at him, the bright blue eyes pleading and searching. “But how?” she demanded softly, then her eyes grew suspicious. “Were we gassed? Maybe someone gassed us and then dragged us outside to rob us.”
    He almost