Page 35 of Connal

His anger evaporated. “Shaw, no. No, lad.”

Bitter humor filled his brother’s gray eyes. “You asked, I answered. ’Tis growing stronger now, Brother. That day you promised me, ’twill soon arrive, I reckon.”

No one knew about Shaw’s true affliction; they only saw his touch setting fire to wood and believed his mortal weakness the cause of his strangeness. For centuries the chieftain had struggled alone with whatever the Pritani had done to him. Whatever it was, it allowed him to somehow become like a liquid shadow, and flow as he moved, as if turned to black water. After indulging in whiskey too much one night, he had pressed Connal to vow he would end him if the affliction grew beyond his ability to control it.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he told Shaw. “Dinnae surrender.”

“Ken you me ever once yield?” The chieftain scrubbed his unmarked hand over the back of his head. “What the fack want you from that woman? You either lock yourself away from her, or stalk her like a starving hunter. You refuse give her to the Finfolk, but make no place for her among the clan. Decide, my lord, before you drive the rest of us mad.”

What the chieftain said gave Connal pause. He had meant to treat Valerie as an honored guest by assigning maids to look after her and requiring nothing from her in return. She wandered through each day without work or purpose, when he knew she had possessed both in her time. She seemed friendly to all, but had yet to settle on anyone as a friend.

I could be such for her.

The thought came from simple gratitude, of course. She had stirred him from his melancholy, something not even the clan had been able to accomplish. Indeed, his grief had filled every day since Joana’s death. Yet since the lady had arrived he had left his chamber more often than he had in the previous six moons. He no longer thought of his dead wife during every waking hour.

“Today I shall show her the island,” Connal said finally. When he saw Shaw’s expression turn skeptical he added, “The island’s lowlands.”

“A good notion.” His brother put a hand on his shoulder. “I shall accompany you.”

He shook his head. “We both cannae leave the stronghold while Merrick tests the truce. I shallnae go far with her. Perhaps only to the village beyond the willow forest.” As his brother scowled he sighed. “Do you wish me act, or do naught? Decide, Chieftain.”

Shaw sighed. “I never much liked your knack of throwing my own words in my face. Very well. At least carry a sword with you, in case the fish king stalks you both.”

Once his brother left Connal walked down to the guest chamber, and knocked on the door. Valerie opened it so quickly and had such a fierce expression that he stepped back.

“Oh, it’s you.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I thought you were…never mind. What can I do for you, Laird?”

“We didnae finish our walk together,” he said. “I thought perhaps today we might try again.”

Valerie glanced over her shoulder. “Have you seen the sky? It looks like there’s a storm brewing on the horizon.”

“Aye, but ’twillnae reach the island until nightfall,” he said. “We shall return long before the rain begins.”

“Well, I could certainly use the exercise.” She retreated into the room for a moment, and then returned with boots on and a wool cloak draped over her arm. “Ready.”

A few minutes later Valerie eyed the satchel of bread, fruit, cheese and waterskins that he’d stopped by the kitchens to pack. “Just how far are we going to walk?”

“Only to the nearest village,” he assured her. “’Tis a lochan in a forest meadow where we might eat and rest before we return. You dinnae dine out of doors in your time?”

“We do. We call that a picnic.” She smiled. “Let’s go.”

It took several days for Duxor to elude the guards Jamaran had ordered to watch him, but once he did he swam straight to the islet where he’d left his monstrous creation. At first he saw no sign of the transformed beast, and silently cursed it. Then a long, broad shadow fell over him as the monster appeared.

Shreds of flesh hung from the creature’s maw, and in its wake he left the stench of rotted mortal. Lord Duxor, I reckoned you abandoned me.

His creation’s thoughts had grown cold, as if it no longer had any mortal emotions. Acting on instinct, Duxor seized its thick neck and stared into its human eyes.

I’m your master and your savior, you pathetic mistake. As such, you shall show me proper respect.

The creature cringed, and at once its thoughts grew feverish. Forgive me, maister, ’tis hard for me recall how ’twas before you saved me.

The shark and the mortal’s minds had melded during transformation, Duxor suspected, which had probably resulted in the dual nature it showed him. He knew the shark would only be interested in hunting, killing and eating, while the human would be fearful and wish to avoid its predatory half. Somehow he had to control the beastly half while using the mortal side to do his bidding.

You wish a mate for yourself, aye? Duxor saw the creature’s tail thrash in the water, but didn’t release his grip. I shall make another of you, but I need first a female mortal. Fetch one for me from the island.

The monster’s features twisted. I tried to leave the water yesterday, but I cannae breathe air as once I did.

That eliminated any chance he could use the creature against the landcrawlers. Then we must hunt for a wench on one of the boats that sail outside the mist barrier. Follow me.