Gargouille Ch. 01

Eyon stopped abruptly. The door was closed. Kieran was talking - no shouting was more like it - at Manig, the county healer.

Manig whispered tightly, "You heed my warning, Kieran, Laird of the Mac Thomas clan, you and Laird Eyon have done a disservice to poor Aryan. You will both rot in hell."

"Old hag, it will come as no surprise to you when I tell you that your empty threats do not move me. Get out of my sight, before I recant my decision and have you thrown in the river!" Kieran hissed.

A few seconds later, the door burst opened. In her haste to leave the room, Manig did not see Eyon in the doorway. She felt her breath escape her body when she ran into what felt like brick, and fell backwards, landing flat on her bottom on the hard floor. She tilted her head back to look up at Eyon, startled eyes meeting angry, flashing ones. A tight smile etched itself onto his face.

"Here to make our lives miserable, are you, Manig?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Laird Eyon!" she squeaked. Manig quickly scrambled to her feet, the top of her head barely reaching Eyon's chest. The old hag tossed her stringy white hair from her face and fled from the room once more.

Manig was four times married. Her last husband, Sir Walter, was a Scholar and heir to the title of Earl of Abbey Wood. He was found dead in his study one early morning. Manig was convicted for her husband's death and branded a witch and an outcast. Being a Baron's daughter, she was spared the noose and instead spent three years in the King's prison before her name was cleared when a letter was found attesting to Sir Walter's suicide. Though it freed her, it certainly brought nothing except torture to the unfortunate young woman.

Lady Manig was once a beautiful woman, with glorious silver hair and an angelic face. But now, her face was hideous and twisted with evil, wanting revenge for the destruction of her life and freedom. Eyon understood her pain. The thought sobered him.

Eyon made his way further into the room, frowning as he watched Kieran, who stood against the fireplace in the centre of the room, a half full bell-shaped decanter of what smelled like brandy in his hand. The glass lay untouched by his feet. He didn't need to ask; the discussion had been about their betrothed.

Both Eyon and Kieran were faced with a difficult situation. Laird McCarran's daughter, Aryan, was promised to them as a mate. This was arranged between both families, the McClain of Lochbuie and the McCarran's, when Aryan was but a child.

"Are you aware that the Lairds are in the hall?" Eyon asked. He walked over to the fireplace, sitting down on a large chair and stretching out his long legs as he stared at the flickering flames.

Kieran merely shrugged. His mind was elsewhere. After a moment, he looked over at Eyon. "She is to be ours. Our family wants us to take her so as to keep the gargoyle line in the clan," Kieran stated dryly, his anger evident in his tone.

Eyon stiffened and shifted his focus to Kieran. Kieran's blonde hair looked ruffled and unkempt. Kieran was the opposite of Eyon. Where he was dark in coloring, Kieran was fair, taking the features of his Viking forefathers. As the only living heir to Norse King Olav, Kieran was extremely wealthy, second only to him. Many women considered him handsome; they sighed and panted in lust when he greeted them. But, he was also a fierce warrior, skilled in warfare. He was once an assassin for King Henry III.

Eyon smiled to himself. Kieran feared nothing. Nothing, that is, but being told to do something that he did not want to do. He saw the way Kieran's jaw tightened and with a sigh, he put aside his more pleasant thoughts. Eyon's brow furrowed, his expression becoming savage.

"Firstly, I don't mind keeping the bloodline in the clan, but I will not be dictated as to whom I take as a mate. Secondly, I know you feel the same way, so I don't think you would object to me informing the elders." Eyon locked his hands behind his head, calming himself with a few long breaths. He saw the way Kieran, who was visibly upset, absorbed his words.

Kieran nodded, swallowing the thickness in his throat. Both men shared sexual partners and thought nothing of it. This custom was not unheard of in their clan, as male gargoyles outnumbered the females. Most humans only wanted sex, but for them, sharing a mate meant much more. He had known Eyon since childhood and trusted him with his life. To marry a woman they could not love, and felt nothing for sexually, was unfair to both her and them. Yes, they were warriors, but they weren't without feelings. The ache in his chest grew bigger and expanded until it threatened to burst.

Eyon's brow furrowed. "By the gods, what right do they have in all this? We may still value the olden times, but I am Laird and answer to no one. Let them come, I welcome it," he said with subtle menace.

"Why should we let others decide our fate?" Kieran laughed bitterly under his breath, "Our fathers both survived the Dark Ages of Scotland and still embrace the olden days."

And why should we? Kieran thought, haven't we sacrificed enough for the clan?

Their responsibilities were endless. Kieran began to wonder how many of his clansmen were going to challenge them in response to them breaking their betrothal. He smiled cynically. Well, if they were foolish enough to think they could challenge them, so be it. His grandfather, who was a Norse warrior, always said that a good challenge makes it even more worthwhile and satisfying when one is victorious in the end.

Kieran smiled with a great sadness that tore at his heart. The sacrifices they made for the clan were endless. Not anymore. He shook his head. He closed his eyes and felt his body tremble with pure rage. They had a decision to make, marry their betrothed to make the clan happy and be miserable, or put aside duty and, for once, put their needs first.

Kieran swore loudly and looked over at Eyon. Eyon turned in his chair and met his cousin's gaze.

"Have you decided?" Eyon asked softly.

A deep sigh escaped Kieran's lips. "Aye."

"It's for the best." Eyon smiled and it felt painful.

Kieran groaned faintly in agreement.