Page 16 of An Enchanted Knight

“We must go and fast,” Liam warned.

Immediately the five men mounted and barely took a moment to grab the reins before taking off at full speed.

The thunder of the horses’ hooves that gave chase echoed Tristan’s heartbeats as they raced through the dense woods.

He turned to look. About twenty warriors chased them. Horsemen wearing helmets so he could not discern who they were. Not that it mattered; most of the time, the beings in that world were fabricated by Meliot.

Coming to a fork in the path, Liam motioned that they should take different paths, and they split off. During times like these, they communicated with hand signals to keep whoever challenged as unaware of their plans as possible.

Niall, Padraig and Liam went in the opposite direction from the one Tristan and Gavin took. Tristan’s power of extraordinary strength made up for an extra man, so they were evenly divided.

As expected, their pursuers split evenly behind them.

Gavin whistled and gave a quick hand signal telling him to prepare for attack. Once they reached a clearing, they stopped and turned to face the riders coming at them.

Before lowering the face guard of his helmet, Tristan met Gavin’s amused gaze, the man actually enjoying the prospect of the fight. Gavin Campbell lived for two things, battle and tournaments. Being that tournaments were non-existent in the alter-world, he was primed for the impending contest. Letting out a blood curdling battle cry, the huge Scot charged toward their enemies. Tristan almost laughed, noting that the enemy actually faltered at the sight.

The sound of swords clashing, grunts, and horses’ whinnying filled the air, echoed from the trees. Not able to take the time to keep an eye on Gavin while defending himself, Tristan hoped for the best and blocked a sword’s decent meant to cut him down.

As often with Meliot’s challenges, there were clues in every obstacle. This meant that perhaps one of the horsemen had a clue to winning this challenge. They could not kill any of them until they could figure out which one. It proved a hard task. Incapacitating them meant they could rise and strike again.

His current opponent’s soulless black eyes didn’t register pain when Tristan relieved him of his sword arm. Instead, he picked up his sword with the other hand to strike at him again.

They continued, fighting, maiming only for their soulless opponents to rise and attack again. Sweat flowed down his brow making it hard to see. Not able to resist, Tristan swung wide slicing across two opponents’ midsections. They crumpled to the ground and remained there.

Jumping back to avoid a hammer’s blow to his own midsection, Tristan stabbed behind him and heard a grunt. He’d hit his mark. With a groan, the male fell from his horse. A hammer-wielding warrior crooked his head to the side, studying him. That’s when he noticed the red dragon emblem on the right shoulder.

The clue.

He ventured a glance toward Gavin, and gave two quick whistles, letting Gavin know he’d found the clue. That was all the Scot needed. Within moments four bodies lay at his feet.

Tristan circled, not quite sure how to handle the dragon warrior. He didn’t want to kill him, in case the clue was a verbal one, yet it wasn’t like he would come with them voluntarily. The decision was taken away from him when the giant crumpled to his knees and then face forward into the dirt. Gavin gave him a shrug when Tristan glared at him.

“He’s not dead. Just out for a bit,” Gavin explained, then seeing one of the downed moved, he drove his sword into the offender’s chest. “Stay dead,” Gavin commanded the body.

Gavin Campbell was a total and complete contradiction in terms. The beauty of the man a stark contrast to the bloodthirsty warrior he became in battle.

Back when they lived a normal existence, Campbell was perpetually annoyed. Each time he entered any room or approached people, his ravishing good looks caused both men and women to take pause and notice.

One almost felt sorry for him, although it was hard to. Campbell, a large man, a head over six feet, with an expansive muscular chest and bulging arms, wore his blond hair long, just to his shoulders, and constantly sported a beard-shadowed jaw line. His heavily lashed amber eyes were large, his nose straight. The man’s looks were impossible to describe. It could only be said that, in Gavin’s case, seeing definitely was believing.

Tristan did not envy Campbell his attractiveness—all the attention had made it hard for the man to move unnoticed.

And yet, he wasn’t perfect. His one flaw: outside the battlefield, Gavin was clumsy as an ox.

When his childhood friend first approached Tristan, offering his sword to his service, Tristan was dubious as to why a leader of one of Scotland’s most powerful clans would do such a thing. The Scot offered no explanation other than stating he’d left his clan in the hands of a capable younger brother until his return.

Many speculated that The Campbell was a warrior, and could never be content to remain behind while his fellow clansmen fought. The Campbell clan, one of the strongest, rarely needed to defend its lands from other clan attacks. Tristan suspected the reason for Campbell leaving his clan was more of a personal one.

Now he was thankful for it, because through the years of their enchantment, after knowing each other for so long, they were suited to hunting and warring together.

Just as Tristan and Gavin finished securing their “clue,” the other knights arrived. They dismounted and came over to study the prisoner.

“Any idea what we’re looking to get from him?” Liam asked, his foot tapping the dragon emblem on the man’s shoulder. “He say anything?”

“No more than grunts so far,” Tristan replied. “Perhaps we need to figure out what the red dragon signifies.”

They studied it. A red dragon crouched, his front paw curled around a lightning bolt. His tail circled a sphere, on the sphere the emblem of a lion. The same lion as the one on the amulet Tristan wore.