a white robe stood. He pointed his finger and spoke. An argument flew between Roan and the druid. The words became jagged and rough. Four men stood up, siding with their king, followed by Dai with his hair cut short, Roman style. The six.
A lump formed in her stomach, sticky and heavy like uncooked dough, and grew with each passing second. “What happened?”
Dai held up his hand. “Shh. Wait.”
Roan’s hand brushed the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw. The druid grabbed the pouch from Roan and held it up for all to see, then drew out some coins. His words cut through the night, even though Eliza couldn’t understand the language. Eliza’s skin prickled as she felt the power in the words without understanding their meaning.
Roan fell to his knees, clutching his torque. His men fell with him all gasping for breath. They were suffocating. The image went black and disintegrated.
Eliza ran forward. “What happened?” She looked around hoping something or someone would appear out of the dust and give her the answer.
“We lost consciousness and woke up here.” Dai swept his hand around like he was offering a sumptuous view, not the gray, twisted landscape of the Shadowlands. “Along with the druid. Because of his hatred, the magic trapped him here as well… and he’s been trying to finish us off ever since.”
The man who’d cursed them was also here and trying to kill them. She glanced across the empty landscape and suppressed a shiver. “Why did the druid curse Roan? What had he done?”
“Roan, myself, and the others lived in the Roman city. The Romans liked pet kings. We were the eyes and ears of the rebellion. I found out that the general had heard of our planned attack. They were ready, waiting, laughing. Attacking would have been suicide. Instead of meeting to finalize preparations, Roan tried to stop them.”
That made sense, if it was meant to be a surprise attack. “The druid didn’t like that?”
“He accused Roan of selling out to the Romans, of taking their gold instead of leading his people.”
Eliza frowned. He didn’t seem like the kind of king who’d trade lives for gold. Anfri’s death had cut him, and he’d refused her offer of ransom. “Did he?”
“No. By the time the rebellion realized the truth, they lay dying in the mud and gore.” Dai spat out the words. “Now you know who we were and what we’ll become. Do with it what you will.” Dai walked back to the cave.
Not wanting to be left alone outside, Eliza trailed after him, the strange story still swirling in her mind. A cursed Celtic king, trying to find his way home. That idea fit better with the memory of the warrior who’d helped her. It melded with the man who’d brought her here. He would do anything to free his men of the curse, even if it meant shooting them and abducting her. He had a heart, even if it didn’t beat.
Inside the cave she paused. One detail was missing from the story. “Dai, who betrayed the rebellion?”
He paused and turned to look at her, a half-smile on his lips. “Our cousin, Drem.”
“Is he a…” She couldn’t bring herself to call Dai a goblin to his face.
“Goblin? No. Our cousin died on the general’s blade that night. A quick death.”
***
The body lay still. Hands folded over the sword. The bullet hole in the forehead couldn’t be hidden. Anfri had shaved his head, grown his beard, and for a time ridden with a biker gang. The helmet and leather had hidden his features. He was also the only medic they had. If Dai were to be injured…Roan hissed. He would have to use magic to save his brother.
Centuries had slid past without progress on breaking the curse. Finding a cure had become the sole reason Dai lived. Every moment spent working on a puzzle that would never be complete. Now the bell was ringing. The clock about to strike midnight, yet Dai refused to admit it was over. But if Dai was fighting, so was he. Roan smoothed the red cloak over Anfri’s
A lump formed in her stomach, sticky and heavy like uncooked dough, and grew with each passing second. “What happened?”
Dai held up his hand. “Shh. Wait.”
Roan’s hand brushed the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw. The druid grabbed the pouch from Roan and held it up for all to see, then drew out some coins. His words cut through the night, even though Eliza couldn’t understand the language. Eliza’s skin prickled as she felt the power in the words without understanding their meaning.
Roan fell to his knees, clutching his torque. His men fell with him all gasping for breath. They were suffocating. The image went black and disintegrated.
Eliza ran forward. “What happened?” She looked around hoping something or someone would appear out of the dust and give her the answer.
“We lost consciousness and woke up here.” Dai swept his hand around like he was offering a sumptuous view, not the gray, twisted landscape of the Shadowlands. “Along with the druid. Because of his hatred, the magic trapped him here as well… and he’s been trying to finish us off ever since.”
The man who’d cursed them was also here and trying to kill them. She glanced across the empty landscape and suppressed a shiver. “Why did the druid curse Roan? What had he done?”
“Roan, myself, and the others lived in the Roman city. The Romans liked pet kings. We were the eyes and ears of the rebellion. I found out that the general had heard of our planned attack. They were ready, waiting, laughing. Attacking would have been suicide. Instead of meeting to finalize preparations, Roan tried to stop them.”
That made sense, if it was meant to be a surprise attack. “The druid didn’t like that?”
“He accused Roan of selling out to the Romans, of taking their gold instead of leading his people.”
Eliza frowned. He didn’t seem like the kind of king who’d trade lives for gold. Anfri’s death had cut him, and he’d refused her offer of ransom. “Did he?”
“No. By the time the rebellion realized the truth, they lay dying in the mud and gore.” Dai spat out the words. “Now you know who we were and what we’ll become. Do with it what you will.” Dai walked back to the cave.
Not wanting to be left alone outside, Eliza trailed after him, the strange story still swirling in her mind. A cursed Celtic king, trying to find his way home. That idea fit better with the memory of the warrior who’d helped her. It melded with the man who’d brought her here. He would do anything to free his men of the curse, even if it meant shooting them and abducting her. He had a heart, even if it didn’t beat.
Inside the cave she paused. One detail was missing from the story. “Dai, who betrayed the rebellion?”
He paused and turned to look at her, a half-smile on his lips. “Our cousin, Drem.”
“Is he a…” She couldn’t bring herself to call Dai a goblin to his face.
“Goblin? No. Our cousin died on the general’s blade that night. A quick death.”
***
The body lay still. Hands folded over the sword. The bullet hole in the forehead couldn’t be hidden. Anfri had shaved his head, grown his beard, and for a time ridden with a biker gang. The helmet and leather had hidden his features. He was also the only medic they had. If Dai were to be injured…Roan hissed. He would have to use magic to save his brother.
Centuries had slid past without progress on breaking the curse. Finding a cure had become the sole reason Dai lived. Every moment spent working on a puzzle that would never be complete. Now the bell was ringing. The clock about to strike midnight, yet Dai refused to admit it was over. But if Dai was fighting, so was he. Roan smoothed the red cloak over Anfri’s
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