Darkest Highlander (11 page)

Sonya swallowed around the lump in her throat. She had been right to be worried. It was as dire as she had assumed it would be.

“I killed all but one,” he continued. “By the time I found it, another eleven had met up with the creature. I knew I didna have time to kill all of them. I had to return to you.”

“Eat, Broc. All will be well.”

As she watched him, she saw the rage, the craze which could sometimes overtake a Warrior if he gave into the fury of the god inside him.

How close was he to losing himself to his god forever? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

He was too important. To everyone. But most especially to her.

ELEVEN

The bread was delicious, like an explosion of flavor in his mouth. Broc hadn’t realized until he began to eat just how hungry he was.

He could go without food, but he was glad Sonya had forced him to eat the small bit of bread. Though, he knew he was taking a great risk by resting those few precious moments.

All he had been able to think about as he raced to the inn was Sonya. He feared the wyrran had already reached her. He hadn’t wasted a moment in using his power to discern that she was right where he had left her.

Yet, he didn’t feel true relief until he opened the door to the chamber and saw her.

When she had come running into his arms, it was the greatest moment of his life. Her body had trembled as he held her, and though he knew his hold was too tight, he couldn’t release her. It felt too good, too right to have her in his arms.

Broc finished the last of his bread and stood. Sonya’s amber eyes were filled with trepidation, but mixed with it was determination.

“We need to leave,” he said. “It isna safe here anymore.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.”

“We’ll travel on foot. At least until we get far enough away from the village that no one will see me release my god. I’ll fly the rest of the way.”

“How far is it to MacLeod Castle?”

“I can get us there quick enough,” he answered.

Sonya adjusted the dagger at her waist and grabbed the satchel. She slid the strap over her head and faced him. “I’m ready.”

Broc smiled and took her hand. “Everything is going to be all right.”

“All of this is my fault. Had I not left, the wyrran wouldn’t have found us.”

“The wyrran were looking, Sonya. They would have found another Druid if no’ you. At least I was able to kill a few of them. They’ll follow us now, leaving others safe.”

Her gaze shifted around his shoulder to the window, and a moment later her face drained of color. Almost instantly Broc could feel the shift in the air.

The wyrran had come.

He had two choices. He could grab Sonya and leap from the window to escape into the sky. Or he could draw the wyrran away from the village and kill them.

As if Sonya knew his thoughts, she touched his arm gently and sighed. “We cannot leave the village to the wyrran.”

“I know.” Though he was seriously considering it. He didn’t want anyone to fall victim to the wyrran, but Sonya and her magic were important. She was needed.

And he wouldn’t let his curse touch her.

Sonya’s gaze returned to the window. “What do we do now?”

“I need to hide you.”

“Where?” she asked with a snort. “If there really is magic still inside me the wyrran can find me anywhere.”

It was the truth, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. “Can you protect yourself with a shield of magic as Isla protected the castle?”

“Nay.”

That single word held a wealth of emotion. Frustration. Sadness. Despair.

Broc grabbed Sonya by the shoulders. “Doona worry. I’ve got a plan. Give me your cloak.”

Sonya did as he asked without question. Her movements were quick and precise. She handed him the cloak and waited.

Broc gripped the fabric and prayed his plan worked. “When I leave, put whatever you can in front of the door. The wyrran will have to come in through either the door or the window. Give them only one choice.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to go downstairs and make sure Jean and her men are safely inside.”

“Then what?” Sonya asked.

Broc looked at her cloak. “I’m going to make the wyrran think I have you. I will lead them away. It will take them a bit to realize they no longer sense your magic. By then, you and I will be on our way to MacLeod Castle.”

“How long do I wait for you?”

“You doona.” Broc saw her open her mouth to argue. “If I’m no’ back in a couple of hours, take the coin and buy the horse just as we spoke about before. You ride for MacLeod Castle, Sonya.”

She shook her head over his words. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to.”

“Broc—”

“I
will
find you.”

A deep sighed passed her lips. “I will hold you to that vow, Broc MacLaughlin.”

He was unable to hold back the smile, just as he couldn’t stop his finger from caressing her cheek. “Stay safe.”

Broc left before he kissed her. The temptation was so great that every fiber of his being told him he had to have a taste of her, had to feel her warmth against him one more time.

But he kept walking to the doorway. He glanced at her once more before he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.

He waited a moment until he heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being scooted across the floor. Satisfied that Sonya was doing as he asked, Broc went to find Jean.

Just as he suspected, she was in the front of the inn. “Jean, you need to call your men inside.”

She looked him over, her gaze pausing at the blood on his breeches. Instead of demanding to know what was going on, she walked to the door and gave a loud whistle. Almost immediately the men walked inside.

Broc touched Jean’s arm. “Sonya is barricaded in her chamber. I’m leaving to take care of … something bad which is following us.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jean asked.

“Stay inside. It will be too dangerous to venture from the inn.”

The men grumbled, their chests puffing in an attempt to prove their manhood. Broc silenced them with a glare. “You doona wish to tangle with what I’m going to kill. You would be dead before you could begin to realize what was happening.”

Jean shivered and rubbed her arm with her hands. “All evening I’ve sensed great evil.”

“More than you can begin to understand,” Broc told her. “Stay inside. All of you, no matter what you hear. If anything other than me comes through the door, kill it.”

With Sonya’s cloak still in his hand, he left the inn. He stood outside and listened. The night was quiet. Too quiet. The wyrran had surrounded the village. It was up to Broc to get them as far away from Sonya as he could.

Broc unleashed his god and let his wings stretch out to the side. In the next breath, he was in the air, his wings beating steadily.

Below, he could see movement scurrying around the village and through the forest. Broc let Sonya’s cloak flap in the wind. He wanted the wyrran to think she was with him, wanted them to smell her scent.

Broc spotted a small clearing in the forest and dove toward it. He wanted away from the village, but not too far that he couldn’t get to Sonya quickly.

Broc landed and folded his wings. The night erupted with the unholy shrieks of the wyrran. How he hated that sound. His disgust turned to glee when he realized the wyrran had taken the bait and were coming at him.

There could be one or two left at the village, but most likely all had followed him.

The wyrran crept from the forest. The moonlight glared off their pale yellow skin. Broc kept still as stone as he shifted his eyes to watch the wyrran station themselves on either side of him. More were to his back, but he didn’t bother to face them.

The sound of a horse snorting drew Broc’s attention. He watched the wyrran part as a horse emerged from the trees. And atop the animal was none other than Dunmore.

“I always knew there was something off about you,” Dunmore said as he regarded Broc with disdain. “You were always too willing to aid Deirdre.”

“You mean, like yourself?” Broc taunted.

Dunmore’s lips shifted to a sneer. “Your glib tongue will not get you out of this, Broc. Deirdre knows you betrayed her.”

“Deirdre betrayed everyone when she set out to conquer us. I never gave her my loyalty, only made her think I did. From the very beginning, I was a spy in her midst.”

“You think you outwitted her, do you?”

Broc chuckled. “I know I did. Up until the moment I joined in the attack, she thought I was hers. For all her power, for all her knowledge, she was duped.”

“She wants revenge.” Dunmore shifted atop his mount and eyed the wyrran. “Deirdre has plans for you especially.”

“And I have plans for her. We all do. Eventually we will win.”

“Not all of you.”

Broc shook his head. “Nay, there will some of us who die, but in the end, so will Deirdre. And the next time, it will be for good.”

“I wouldna get too confident,” Dunmore said. “You’ve left the mountain, Broc. There are things you doona know now. Things that if you did, you might no’ be so willing to stand against her. In fact, if I were you, I’d be on my knees begging for her forgiveness.”

Broc curled his hands into fists, his claws slicing his palms. All the rage that had built while tracking and fighting the wyrran had never dissipated, only simmered and waited. Now, it grew.

It overwhelmed.

It besieged.

And Broc did nothing to stop it.

He had always known he would die in his fight against Deirdre. Whether it was by death or his god taking over, he would be gone forever. His only regret was that he hadn’t made sure Sonya was safe. At least with him gone, his “curse” wouldn’t affect her now.

“But you are no’ me, Dunmore. Nay, you’re merely a mortal man. A man who has continued to age. I see the lines around your eyes and the gray in your hair. You are no’ as strong as you used to be. You tire more easily than before.”

“Shut up.”

Broc smiled. “Deirdre has no one but these wyrran. She’s using you. Once a Warrior returns to her, you will cease to be an asset. She’ll kill you or send you away.”

“She promised me immortality.”

Broc threw back his head and laughed. “And you believed her? If there was a god inside you, she would have unbound it long ago. If she really was going to give you immortality, she would have done it while you were in your prime, no’ aging as you are now.”

Dunmore snarled and drew his sword from its scabbard. “I’ve heard enough from you. Deirdre wants you in her mountain, and I’m going to be the one who brings you to her. You’ll see firsthand just how much I matter to her.”

With a wave of Dunmore’s hand the wyrran attacked. Broc killed the first three easily, but there were so many of them. He didn’t understand how they could have gotten to the village so quickly.

He had a wyrran in each hand and one on his back when he saw Dunmore approach him. It must have been another signal, because suddenly all of the wyrran were on him, their slim bodies piling atop him as fast as they could.

Broc snapped the necks of the ones in his hands and reached for more, but their intent wasn’t to harm him, it was to bring him to the ground.

The back of one of his knees was cut the same time a wyrran landed on his chest, sending him backwards. Broc roared as he fell to one knee and killed the wyrran before him.

He could feel the muscle and tendon mending in his knee, knew in just a moment he would be able to stand. But before that happened, Dunmore threw something at him.

The agony was immediate, consuming. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus his mind as his god screamed furiously inside him. Broc knew then that
drough
blood, poisonous to Warriors, had been thrown into his many and various wounds.

He tried to get to his feet, tried to keep fighting, but the
drough
blood was too potent. His muscles seized as the poison worked its way through his body.

Broc could hear his god bellow inside him. Broc gave his own roar as he realized the wyrran hadn’t come for Sonya.

They had come for him.

He fell backward hard as he tried to fight the effects of the
drough
blood. His body was immobilized, the pain blinding. He didn’t care that he was being taken to Deirdre, to Cairn Toul Mountain, and most certainly his death. All he cared about was the Druid he had vowed to protect.

Sonya.

TWELVE

Sonya huddled behind a tree, her heart in her throat. It had cost her precious time talking her way past Jean and her men, but Sonya knew something was wrong. She felt it in the marrow of her bones. A feeling she couldn’t dispel no matter how hard she tried.

The wyrran had followed Broc too easily if they had indeed come for her. And she saw why when the wyrran attacked him. It was a different attack than she had witnessed before. They weren’t out to kill.

They were out to capture.

Sonya wiped away a lone tear from her cheek when she saw the wyrran lift Broc and carry him from the trees. His indigo skin of his god had faded and his wings had disappeared. From the way he held himself so rigid, it was clear that his body was wracked with pain.

She knew all too well what had happened to him.
Drough
blood. Sonya had helped Larena live through the nightmare. The poison had nearly killed Larena.

Sonya shifted the satchel and a limb cracked beneath her foot. A wyrran paused and lifted its head, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air.

She readied to run, thinking the wyrran would come for her. But the creature merely turned and followed the others and Dunmore through the trees.

If there was magic in her, the wyrran wouldn’t have passed up an opportunity to bring a Druid to Deirdre. Yet, as empty as that knowledge made her feel, it allowed Sonya time to plan.