In the Kingdom of Alba, darkness falls in autumn of the year 1073 during Samhain. Great mysterious beasts, creatures from the mound, wreak havoc on the people in Dunfeld’s quaint village. King Malcolm sends three of his most fearless warriors to overthrow the evil forces that have overtaken his subjects. When the warriors arrive, they are confronted by the Daughters of Dunfeld, three brazen maidens determined to bring their torment to an end.
The tales of Fright of the Bean Sìth, Fret the Sunset, and A Wailing Nightmare might lead to love
for these couples who must put aside their terror and bravely defeat underworld
daemons. Terrifying sights lead to passionate nights in this trilogy of
horrifying romantic stories.
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DAUGHTERS of DUNFELD
A
Horror-Historical Romance
The Kingdom of Alba,
Caledonian Fort
October 1073
As one of his lord’s protectors, Sáer de Woolf
awaited his next assignment with eagerness. With his brethren, he aided to protect
their lord and his subjects from any peril that might arise. But their main
objective was to protect the border region and keep the knavish English from
impeding on their territory. He stood in line with the other warriors as King
Malcolm discussed military strategies with his council. Once again, William,
the knave who conquered the English, threatened to overtake the border region
betwixt their nations. Most of the militia were tired of the battles and the
never-ending rifts that took them to bloody battles.
Sáer shifted on his feet and focused on
Malcolm’s disposition. To say his king was displeased was an understatement. He
and his comrades lost a recent battle and were on Malcolm’s shite list, as it
were. Malcolm gave them ireful glances as his council advised they would do
well to retake the land they recently lost. When the king demanded answers for
their atrocious defeat, he and his comrades kept silent. Malcolm wasn’t one to
accept any explanation or excuse for failure. His king expected results and not
retreat, but the English’s numbers tripled theirs, and to fight another day,
they had to flee. Sáer hated to leave the battlefield without a victory, but it
couldn’t be helped.
Wherever they’d be sent, it wouldn’t bode well
for them. But regardless, he would do his duty and confront whatever
adversaries he was sent to defeat.
Margaret, the king’s pious wife, strolled into
the hall and awaited the attention of her husband. When Malcolm noticed her, he
twitched a finger and bade her forward. He motioned to his advisors to stand
aside.
“My ard rí, a good morn to you,” she said in a
sweetened voice and joined him at the table.
Malcolm replaced the staid regard of his face
with a smile. “Aye, I am your good king. Good morn to you, Lady Wife. Have you
come to remind me how pleasant your night was when I―?”
She quickly cut him off. “Husband, you should
not speak thusly in front of your soldiers,” Margaret whispered something more
to him and a smile widened on Malcolm’s face.
Malcolm chuckled and nodded.
Sáer kept his grin hidden because Malcolm had a
fondness for his wife, and it was rumored they had spent every night in bed…together.
Margaret claimed her territory and forbade Malcolm from taking other lovers. He
suspected his king was amiable to her demand.
She was devoted to her faith and always
presented a righteous demeanor. Sáer supposed her beauty had more to do with Malcolm’s
lust, rather than her commitment to God. Malcolm cared not about her religion
or God, and owned that his good fortune was awarded to him by his sheer use of
force and might. The new religion, as it were, hadn’t yet overtaken their
kingdom, and many continued to practice the rituals and worship of their pagan
gods. Sáer wasn’t one to follow others in their beliefs, and he’d rather have
faith in many Gods rather than one.
“What brings ye here then? You may speak freely,
Lady Wife.”
“I received a missive from Torric de Godwin. He
has appealed for our aid.”
Malcolm’s eyes drew together with disdain. “The
audacity of him. What aid does he request? Your friend asks much of his king.
Is it not enough that I have given sanctum to those damned English you favor? I
should have enslaved the lot of them.”
Sáer listened intently. Lady Margaret had been
the Princess of Wessex before her marriage to Malcolm. She’d pleaded with her
husband to shelter the outcasts after William conquered the Angles and Saxons,
and to give them sanctuary in Alba. She’d even established a ferry crossing at
the channel at the Firth of Forth where the less fortunate might flee to
safety. Many chieftains in Alba had taken the exiles as slaves and refused to
release them.
“He writes that his village, Dunfeld, is being
terrorized by an unknown otherworldly creature. His need is most grave. We
should send help before more villagers are killed.”
Sáer tensed at her speech. The situation at
Dunfeld reminded him of what happened at his own village, which had been
tormented by a cacodemon, and most of the men had been murdered. It was by
Somhlth’s grace, his favored God, he escaped with his mother, but the carnage
and deaths had never been forgotten. Somhlth’s masculine blessings filled him
with courage, honor, and strength. That horrific event had stayed with him, and
with the battles he’d taken part in since he’d trained at arms, nothing swayed
him to be as fearful. He’d been a wee lad then, no more than eight in years,
and it had taken him a long time to cease the nightmares of his youth.
The queen drew his attention when she stepped
around the king and peered at him. He kept his gaze on the table and tried not
to be affected by her scrutiny. She often looked at him thusly, and her stare
always unsettled him. He knew not what she meant with such a look, but
fortunately, Margaret averted her gaze back to her husband.
“Torric wrote they are being attacked by an
unknown entity, a banshee that leaves little of its victims. He says a bean
sìth has taken refuge in the woods there and is murdering those poor people. He
pleads for us to send our most fearless men to help defeat this evil. I beseech
you to help them.”
Malcolm set his arms behind his back and ambled
alongside the table. He appeared to consider her appeal for long minutes, but
his hesitancy induced Margaret to step near. She spoke in a low tone to her
husband, to which none could hear her words.
When he glanced up he nodded. “Very well, Lady
Wife, I agree. We cannot have our subjects murdered or terrorized. I will send
three men at once.”
“You are a benevolent king, my husband.” She
bowed and left the hall, but not before she gave him a fleeted glance.
Sáer briefly wondered why she gaped at him, but
he couldn’t reason why and returned his attention to Malcolm. He suspected the
king would select him and his comrades for the excursion. They, unfortunately,
displeased him when they’d had no choice but to forfeit the battle by the
border and returned to recount their loss. He supposed being sent to Dunfeld
was better than suffering a punishment of a mundane task the king would likely
give them. His sword arm tensed in anticipation of going on such a quest.
Malcolm walked in front of the line of warriors
and pointed to Reídh mac Gilly and Conall mac Tage. Both men were his closest
comrades and had gone on the ill-fated mission that caused their overlord’s
disgruntlement.
The king bypassed him and continued down the
line. Sáer was disappointed he wasn’t chosen, but Malcolm turned and strolled
back. He stared at him briefly and then pointed to him with a nod. Sáer stepped
forward to join his comrades.
“You three shall go to this village and find out
what plagues my subjects. Use whatever force is necessary to defeat this
terror, but ye shall not return until the vexation is fully discharged and I
have given permission for your return. Leave at once and report to de Godwin.”
They bowed to him and hastily left the hall.
Outside, they readied for the trek. Sáer hadn’t
been to Dunfeld before, and neither had his comrades. He wasn’t keen to travel
to an unfamiliar place and packed every weapon in his arsenal. If he faced
unknown daemons, he’d be well-armed and would face the threat with valor and
with Somhlth’s grace, the God who gave warriors their will and strength.
Although he was pleased to be sent on the
journey, his comrades were not. They groused about having to leave the winsome
beauties who attended the queen. He too wished he could stay for a week or two
and enjoy the fair lasses’ company, but they were given a duty. Besides that,
Margaret often rebuked them for their attention of her maidens. She claimed
when they stayed at Malcolm’s keep, her ladies shirked their duty to her.
Conall sidled next to his horse. He grinned and
pulled a hood over the golden glint of his hair. “Ye won’t be needing this,” he
said and snatched a shortsword from his saddlebag.
Reídh’s reddish hair was pulled back to keep it
from covering his green eyes, but his look was one of mirth with a shine in his
gaze. “All you need is your broadsword and a good strong arm to wield it. Oh
and bring a few casks of your brew to ease us.”
“Worry not, I brought enough brew to keep us for
a while.” Sáer made a fine brew, an intoxicating recipe that had been handed
down from his grandfather. He’d put five jugs of brew in his saddlebag.
The conversation about swords made him want to
laugh. They had to be jesting with him. A broadsword was no match for such an
otherworldly creature. Neither of his comrades had seen what such a daemon
could do to a village. His village was desecrated and not a soul remained to
inhabit it after most were killed or fled. Only a handful of people reached a
nearby village and safety. His mother had declared their escape a miracle
because they’d fled for their lives.
Sáer derided at them and took his shortsword
from Conall and put it back in his saddlebag. “I have heard stories about these
daemons and witnessed firsthand their destruction. It is best to be prepared
for anything, but you are right, swords won’t aid us. I take my weapons for our
protection on the road to Dunfeld. The trek will be dangerous at night.”
“Och, are ye afeared of a wee bogey in the
night?” Conall teased.
“That depends on how terrifying this daemon is,
and it sounds like the bean sìth is a tormentor. But I meant the knaves we
might come across on the journey.”
Reídh guffawed. “Aye, let us onward then and
find out what lurks in those woods. Whatever is murdering those villagers won’t
stand a chance against our arms.”
Sáer wasn’t as confident as his comrade, but
he’d go forth with courage.
Kingdom of Alba
Village of Dunfeld
October 1073
The road to Dunfeld was desolate, and they
hadn’t encountered a single person on the journey. On both sides of the lane,
dense trees hedged the woodland. There were no sounds of typical forest
dwellers, and no birds made their usual calls. The eeriness of the dark,
shadowed land gave him pause. Somewhere out there lurked an evil spirit. As
they neared the walls of the fortification, Sáer noted the watchmen on high
wooden perches. Their vigilance eased him somewhat, and at least the villagers
took precautions even though he knew it to be useless against the beings of the
mounds. The Aos sí, the beings of the mounds, faeries, and elves that came up from their
underground dwellings in the night, caused more terror than not.
Once through the gate, they searched for the chieftain’s
fief. Various cottages speckled the sweeping landscape of the hill on which
their settlement was situated. Most were made of stone with thatched roofs and
a few only of wood. On the dirt path, down the center lane, the smith’s forge
lay silent, and no one employed themselves with their trade.
Various cottages and huts housed hawkers and
merchants, but their doors were closed. The number of cottages indicated that
the settlement was populated. There had to be near five-hundred people living
in the village, a good number, but there were only a handful of people who
walked the lane. A man leaned against the door of a cottage and stared at them
as they passed. His demeanor was unwelcoming and the glare of his dark eyes was
fierce. Sáer considered many remote settlements disliked outsiders.
They reached the large wooden structure which he
took for the garrison and chieftain’s residence. He and his comrades dismounted
and tied their mounts to small bushes next to the fief. Sáer followed his
comrades inside, and they were met by the keep’s manservant.
An aged, burly man approached. “Are ye sent from
King Malcolm?”
Sáer nodded.
“We are,” Conall said.
“Our king directed us to report to the chieftain
de Godwin,” Reídh said.
“It’s about bloody time ye came. I am Murray,
his lordship’s man. If ye need anything whilst you are here, ye have only to
ask. Follow me.” The thick-bodied, bald-headed man slunk forward and took them
to a chamber on the second level. Before they entered, he turned to them and
halted their progress with a raised hand. “My lord has left the keep, but his
wife and daughters are in his solar. I shall give you a fair warning… Lord
Torric does not tolerate any man, warrior or nay, who consort with his precious
daughters. Best ye understand that from the onset.”
Sáer’s interest piqued and he shared a look of
mirth with his comrades. Murray shuffled forward through the doorway and held
it open for them to enter. The heavy wood closed with a bang behind them. He
and his comrades stood and waited for introductions. His gaze swept the chamber
and fell on the women who stood at the far end − the daughters of Dunfeld. One
used a dagger to sharpen small spears. Another dipped arrows into liquid, and
then into the wax. The last used a sharpening stone, and ran a long thin blade
over the coarse surface.
But that wasn’t the most astonishing thing that
drew his attention. The last woman his gaze fell upon wore a white tunic and a
red-colored tartan for her skirt. She leaned over her task and revealed the
swell of her breasts. Her tight top accentuated her body, and he noticed right
off how endowed she was. He didn’t mean to look overlong, but he couldn’t help
it. She was a beauty with a shapely body and long limbs. Her long dark hair
matched the color of her eyes and was as black as his leather boots. She stared
back at him as though he was hades’ kin.
Murray grumbled about them being the king’s
emissary. “Good sirs, these are his lordship’s daughters: Nicola, Bridgid, and
lastly, his bairn, Kristin.”
Each woman stepped forward as he spoke their
names. Kristin, the amply figured woman, the youngest of the three, but
certainly not a bairn, continued to peer at him, but he was unsure if there was
animosity in her stare. He and his comrades stood mute before the beauties.
The daughters resembled each other in their hair
color, but they had dissimilar body shapes and eye color. Kristin’s eyes were
the darkest. Her sister, Nicola, had light eyes, almost the shade of the sky,
but not as bright. And Bridgid’s were greenish in color. Their faces were winsome,
with unblemished skin and rosy hues. Sáer noted the lovelorn gazes of his
comrades and suspected he wore the same semblance of awe. The women were as winsome
as the queen’s maiden’s, perhaps more so. When neither of his comrades made to
introduce them, Sáer took the liberty and stepped ahead of his comrades.
“Ladies, I am Sáer de Woolf, and these are my
comrades, Conall mac Tage and Reídh mac Gilly. The king sent us to aid your
village―”
Before he finished his explanation, a woman
entered the solar by way of a side door. “Sirs, welcome. I’m Paula, Lord de
Godwin’s wife. He has yet to return from a hunting party. You’ve met my
daughters? Come, sit, and we shall discuss the problems. Murray shall fetch
drinks.”
The de Godwin lasses resembled their mother in
appearance and had the same shade of hair, but only Kristin had her mother’s
eyes which were dark as night and as appealing. Sáer sat as close as he could
get to Kristin on the bench, but she slid aside and put more space between
them. He hoped to hear the voice that went with her pretty face.
Lady Paula spoke as she handed them each a cup,
“I am relieved you are here and I shall tell you why we have asked you to
come…”
Kristin pressed a hand on her mother’s shoulder,
who sat on the other side of her. “Let me explain, Mother. We have pleaded with
our king to send aid because, in the past fortnight, a bean sìth has taken the
lives of four of our men. Our da has gone hunting for the banshee and has yet
to return. I see the king gives little regard for our plight and has sent only
the three of you?”
Her voice was as soft as a gentle breeze through
a field of heather but had a sexy lilt. He focused on her movements and the way
her lips pressed together when she spoke. Every part of him turned rigid as her
cadence swept over him. He fisted his hands and reproached himself for thinking
such thoughts when lives were at stake and people were slain.
Sáer scowled hard at the dreadfulness of her
words and the effect she had on him. “Aye, there’s only the three of us, but
we’re our overlord’s most effective soldiers. Trust that none more are needed.”
He might have sounded a wee bit boastful, but it was the truth. If he, Conall,
and Reídh couldn’t kill the monster, then none could.
“We shall see about that.” Kristin raised her
brow as if what he said needed to be proved. She continued, “The men slain were
torn apart and there was little left of them. Their eyes and body parts were ripped
from them. I hope you’re effective enough as ye claim to be. There is, Good Sirs,
an otherworldly monster lurking in our woods, and I mean to kill it.”
The severity and pitch of her words brought
forth a protective mien to him, and it was unaccountable since he didn’t know
the lass well. But she’d get herself killed if she wasn’t cautious. Sáer would
do what he could to keep her from being hurt, even if doing so put him in
harm’s way.
“Then we shan’t sit here and drink your fine
ale. Let’s get to work.”
Kristin stood in the lane and glared at the
attractive warrior. Beneath the sexy allure of his dark hair and beard, almost
black eyes and muscular build, was an unmistakable obstinacy. His boast made
her want to laugh, but the seriousness of the situation kept her from letting
her mirth show. She hadn’t jested about the monster or the desecration of the
men who were slain.
Her mother sent Murray to assemble the villagers
and directed the search of her father’s hunting party, which hadn’t returned
since their parting nearly a sennight before. The sentry reported no sight of
the missing men or her father. As each day passed, her mother couldn’t hide her
woe. She and her sisters begged her mother to allow them to join in the search.
They’d gone out twice and returned with dejected spirits.
“My dears,” her mother said to her and her
sisters, “I don’t want you traipsing the woods, but I know better than to argue
with you. You’ll do as you are want and I fear for you. If you are set to seek
the bean sìth, I beg you to take care. You shall each travel with one of the
king’s men.” To them, she said, “You will protect my daughters.”
The man named Sáer inclined his head at her
command. “We will, Milady, have no worry.” To his comrades, he said, “We’ll
split up and start our search at the tree line. Each of us will partner with
the women.” He retrieved his weapons and placed them on his body.
She narrowed her eyes at his foolishness. “If
you think those weapons will slay the monster, you’re mistaken. What we face is
not easily killed with simple arms.”
Her sisters quickly teamed up with his comrades
and left the arrogant warrior for her. They set out, each in different
directions. Kristin wasn’t afraid of being alone with the man, but she couldn’t
allow her attraction to him to interfere with her quest to find her father or
to defeat the bean sìth.
“Come on, warrior, there’s a good amount of
ground to cover before night falls.” She walked ahead of him and when she
reached the trees, he pulled her arm to get her to stop. His touch disconcerted
her, and she peered at his strong fingers which gripped her.
“Let us get this straight from the start, I lead
this search. You will follow my orders or you might get yourself hurt.” He
brushed by her and disappeared within the expanse of the thick tree trunks.
He infuriated her and short of stomping her foot
in frustration, she growled and set off to catch up with him. She intended to
tell him what she thought of his domineering attitude and commands. Kristin
marched ahead with vigor but lost sight of him. “Sáer? Sáer, where are you?”
She peered through the massive tree trunks and
spun around at the sound of movement nearby. Shadows fueled her imagination.
She thought she saw a shadow pass by the tree in front of her and tried to spy
where it had gone. Someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. She
didn’t have time to take a breath or even gasp at the fright. Kristin hadn’t
glimpsed who apprehended her either. Her chest rose and fell with her quick
pants.
A breath tickled her ear. “Shhh.”
She peered down at his forearm, which held her back
pressed against his muscled chest. It wasn’t her intention to feel the hardness
of his body behind her, or the way he possessively held her, but in that instant,
a wanton impulse struck her. Kristin clutched his arm and twisted her body to
free herself from his hold. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Making a point, love. I lead the charge, best
ye not forget that. And if ye want to keep breathing, you will do as I say.”
Kristin growled low in her throat at his
audacity. “You vex me. We have no time to discuss this, or for this nonsense.
If you deem to intimidate me, you’ll be sorely mistaken―”
Sáer yanked her against him and pressed his lips
on hers. At first, Kristin was astonished he’d be so forward. But then his lips
gentled over hers and she allowed herself a moment of pleasure before she
shoved him away. “How dare you affront me in such a way?”
“You don’t know how to be quiet, do ye?” Sáer
laughed and trekked off again.
Kristin hastened after him and when she caught
up to him, she forced him to stop and stepped in front of him. “Why did you do
that…kiss me? Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, you are not one
wee bit daunting.”
He shrugged his shoulder but kept his gaze
forward. His voice was soft, just above a whisper, “Are you trying to alert the
creature we are here?”
She closed her mouth and quietly followed him.
When she could speak freely, she’d tell him a thing or two about his absurd
kiss and that he was not now nor would he ever be in charge of her.
The forest grew darker the further they trekked.
She listened and tried to discern any sounds, but the woods were oddly quiet
for that time of day. Kristin grabbed hold of Sáer’s arm to keep him from
moving ahead. “We are near Ghost’s Road.”
“Ghost’s Road?”
“There have been reports of specter sightings on
the road. Maybe the bean sìth is there, but from accounts, the creature was
only seen in the early morning hours.”
“It will be dark soon. We should find a place to
take cover during the night.” Sáer trod forward.
She folded her arms and smiled. “Is this your
way of telling me you fear the dark?”
Sáer turned, took her hand, and peered at her from
beneath his hooded, captivating eyes. “If you’re not afeared of the dark, love,
there’s something wrong with you.”
Kristin almost laughed at his jest, but the tone
of his voice indicated he was most serious. “At least there’s a half a moon to
give us light this night.”
He stopped at a rock formation, the Great Crag
as it was called, and released her hand. “This is as good a place as any to
make camp. We will keep watch from here and draw the creature to us.”
“How do ye plan to do that, whistle as if you’re
calling for your horse?” She almost smirked at her barb, but he seemed to have
no sense of humor. “And why would ye want to do that?”
His manly brows furrowed as he glanced at her
with his enthralling eyes. “You are being difficult. We will make camp and
light a fire. Perhaps your father or his men will see it and find their way.
And I doubt a whistle is necessary when you intend to alert the beast we are
here with your raised voice. If the creature is near, it will be drawn to the
light and shall come to us. We need to find out what we’re dealing with.”
Kristin was thoroughly chastised with his
assertions. He was right, and she kept her voice at a low pitch, “Most of the
sightings have been at dawn or in the early part of the morning. It’s doubtful
the creature is hereabout.”
“We will camp here for a few hours. Stay put,
love, and try to keep quiet.” He marched off without another word and left her
there.
“Sáer… Sáer, I vow to the Gods you are a knave.
Come back here. Damn you, don’t leave me here alone. I was but jesting with
you.” She wouldn’t ever admit that she feared the dark, but she knew what
roamed the forest − petrifying banshees, mysterious underworld presences, and
magical faeries, all determined to wreak terror on humans. The Aos Si, beings
of great fright who lived beneath the swelled mounds of the ground, rose from
the nether regions to feast and take possession of them.
Fortunately, the day hadn’t completely abated
yet, and she could see far enough in the distance to discern if someone or
something approached. Kristin wanted to scream at the vexation he’d caused her.
She had only teased him about being fearful, but now alone, the eeriness of the
woods provoked her senses. She leaned back against a tree with wide eyes and
pulled a ten-inch dagger from her belt and gripped it with her hand raised.
Little good her weapon would do though, if she encountered such a creature.
As the minutes passed, the forest grew darker.
Her hair prickled on her nape at the sound of movement nearby. Leaves and twigs
crunched, and a chill ran up her spine. Her breath came heavy as she tried to
spot whatever lurked there. Kristin wanted to call out to Sáer, but a thick fog
rolled on the ground and swallowed up the forest as it overtook the land. She
shook her head and tried to elude the weird sensations, but everything told her
the creature was close. Her heart pounded in her ears in a maddening alarm.
A figure appeared in the clearing before her.
Kristin gasped at the ghoulish sight. An old hag floated nearby in tattered
green garments and her long wiry hair flowed behind her. There was no breeze to
effectuate her hair to move on its own, but the tresses fanned out. She peered
at the hag’s bare feet and lost her breath at the sight of her webbed toes. At
that moment, Kristin realized she wasn’t looking at an old woman, but a
banshee, a malevolent spirit, a bean sìth. The creature drew closer, and
Kristin gripped the dagger in her shaky hand and raised the blade to protect
herself.
Her movements were indiscernible as the banshee
neither walked nor floated, but suddenly was within inches of Kristin, close
enough to touch her. The ghoul’s red eyes glowed, and she cackled as she rocked
back and forth. Her arm shot forward and a sharp pointy claw-like fingernail
traced the edge of Kristin’s jaw.
Kristin couldn’t find her voice to scream. Her
eyes widened, and she stilled as if she was frozen to the spot. Her legs shook
uncontrollably and her feet affixed her to the ground. The hag screeched
garishly and Kristin covered her ears. Her life was in peril and the banshee would
slay her within seconds. She drew a quick sharp breath and the word sacrifice reverberated in her mind as if
it was spoken by twenty or more people.
Goddesses help her, she would die. Kristin
closed her eyes and didn’t want to see the gruesomeness of the creature as it
devoured her. Blackness overtook her sight, and she fell to the ground in a
dead faint.
