Darkest Highlander (12 page)

In an instant, Sonya made up her mind to follow Broc. She knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but she wouldn’t leave him. After she had learned what he had done for her and Anice, how much he had risked, how could she do anything different?

She might not have magic on her side anymore, but she had the element of surprise. Though she wasn’t sure how she would get Broc away from Dunmore and so many wyrran, given the opportunity, she wouldn’t hesitate to try.

Broc would be furious when he discovered she hadn’t returned to MacLeod Castle, but she was willing to deal with his anger as long as he was alive and free of Deirdre.

Sonya stood and stared at the spot she had last seen Broc. He had always been so strong, so resolute. It was difficult for her to see him brought low by the
drough
blood. It was because he was such a great Warrior that they had to resort to such tactics.

She inhaled deeply and took a step. Her skirts were going to hamper her. She wished she would have thought to wear breeches as Larena did. It would be much easier to travel without having to worry about her skirts getting caught on anything.

Step after step, Sonya followed the wyrran. She traveled at a distance from them, keeping out of sight and hidden as much as she could. It was easy to follow them since they didn’t try to cover their tracks. All Sonya had to do was track the wide path they cut through the forest.

Besides, she knew where they were going—Cairn Toul. Though Sonya had never seen the mountain herself, she knew where it was.

She wasn’t worried about getting to the mountain, or even gaining access inside. She was troubled about finding Broc and getting them both out alive. It was going to take some cunning, and she needed to form a plan quickly.

If she was lucky, there would be a way for her to free Broc before they reached Cairn Toul. The last thing Sonya wanted to do was go into that mountain surrounded by such evil.

With the satchel full of as much food as she could stuff inside, coin, and Broc’s extra tunic he had left in the inn, Sonya was as prepared as she could be.

Her hand skimmed the dagger at her waist. Not to mention, she was armed.

*   *   *

Ramsey stood atop the battlements at MacLeod Castle, his gaze on the sky. He had expected Broc to return already with Sonya in tow.

“Do I have cause to be worried?” Fallon MacLeod asked as he came to stand beside him.

Ramsey shrugged and forced his fingers to loosen from the gray stones. “I thought Broc would be back by now.”

“He has feelings for Sonya. Maybe he wanted some time alone with her.”

“Nay,” Ramsey said and faced the leader of their group of Warriors. “I know Broc. His first thought, regardless, and because of his feelings for Sonya, would be to bring her back. He wouldna waste any time in doing so.”

Fallon sighed wearily, his dark green eyes troubled. “I feared as much. I had held out hope though. We have no idea where Sonya could have gone.”

“Without Broc’s power, we’d be searching blind.”

“To have both Sonya and Malcolm leave at the same time.” Fallon rubbed his chin and frowned. “I should have noticed they were gone much sooner than we did.”

Ramsey laid a hand on Fallon’s shoulder. “Doona blame yourself. We all knew Malcolm was going to leave. We just didna know when.”

“Aye. Larena is determined to find her cousin. She wants him here.”

“Malcolm has lost his way. He needs to find it before he can be happy anywhere.”

“His surname is on the Scroll, Ramsey,” Fallon reminded him.

Ramsey sighed as he thought of the ancient parchment the Druids had used to write down all the names of the men who had housed a god when the gods were first called up. “Do you think he could have the god?”

Fallon glanced at the castle. “There’s a possibility. Larena willna admit it, but even she knows.”

“Which is why she wanted Malcolm here. So Deirdre couldna get ahold of him.”

“Aye.”

Ramsey rubbed the stones of the castle wall with his thumb. “Deirdre has no idea Sonya has the Scroll or what names are on it. That is in our favor.”

“You know as well as I Deirdre will be desperate for Warriors now. She will go back to the families she knows house a god and find their best warrior, but she will also look for anyone who is connected to us.”

“Aye,” Ramsey admitted softly. “She will.”

“Add to that the fact that for some reason Sonya ran away.” Fallon rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Why? Why would she run from us?”

Ramsey pressed his fist against the wall and heard his knuckles pop. “Did you see Broc’s face when he discovered she was gone?”

“I did,” Fallon answered carefully.

“We have all seen the way Broc watches her.”

“And how she looks at him.”

Ramsey raised his brows.

“Shite,” Fallon cursed. “He did something to make her leave. Does it have anything to do with her sister?”

Ramsey shrugged and said, “Perhaps. Broc was very distraught at Anice’s death. I find it odd since he didna know her.”

“Obviously he did.”

“Indeed. How well, I’m no’ sure, but I think Sonya figured it out.”

Fallon slammed his hand into the stones, causing them to tremble with the force of his strength. “But to run? Sonya knew the danger awaiting her. She should have known better.”

“Ah, but love rarely makes a person think straight when they are hurt, Fallon. You know this.”

“I cannot sit by and just wait. If Broc hasna returned, then it’s because of Deirdre.”

Ramsey looked at the sky. “I left Broc once before in Cairn Toul. If Deirdre has somehow captured him, I willna leave him there again.”

“None of us will,” Fallon vowed. “But first, we need to find Broc and Sonya.”

“The two people we would use for something like this are gone. There’s no one else to ask the trees for help. There’s no one else with wings.”

This time it was Fallon who placed a hand on Ramsey’s shoulder. “We will find them. This I swear.”

Ramsey nodded his head once. “I know we will. But will we be too late?”

*   *   *

Broc wanted to roar his fury at opening his eyes to find himself once more in Cairn Toul, the one place he had never wanted to see again. But the
drough
blood in his system made it difficult to breathe, much less talk.

The stones above him blurred as he was carried haphazardly and carelessly by the wyrran. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had been taken by the wyrran. Whatever concoction Dunmore had in the animal skin which he made Broc drink kept him from dying, though it never lessened the pain of the
drough
blood.

So Deirdre wanted him to suffer. Didn’t she know he suffered every day that he was near Sonya and didn’t have her for his own?

Broc groaned just thinking of Sonya. He had to get her out of his mind, had to erase anything to do with her, Anice, or any of the Druids and Warriors at MacLeod Castle. If he didn’t, Deirdre might learn of his attachment and use it against him.

Suddenly, he was dumped on the floor. The thud of his head striking the rock didn’t diminish the pain of the poison in his system.

He thought he might be left on the cool stones of a dungeon to rot for a time, but he should have known Deirdre would want revenge. In blood.

Broc felt something cold and metal lock around his wrists. The sound of chains sliding against rock echoed around him. A heartbeat later, the chains were yanked, wrenching his arms out of their sockets as he was jerked to his feet.

It took everything Broc had to open his eyes. The poison was like a fire in his blood which licked at his skin, his bones, and every organ of his body.

He ground his teeth together to keep from bellowing from the unearthly, constant pain that ripped through him. His body was on fire and there was nothing he could do about it.

“It’s so nice to have you back in my mountain, Broc.”

He clenched his jaw as Deirdre’s voice reached him. Broc lifted his head and looked around, startled to discover he was in the cavern deep below the mountain where he had been sure a Warrior had been held. By the time he had searched, there had been nothing but open shackles on the ground.

“You seem to be in a terrible amount of pain,” Deirdre said. “Though I can attest it is nothing compared to what I endured at your hands.”

Broc chuckled and gripped the chains to help him stand. He would not tremble at her feet or let her know just how much damage the
drough
blood was doing to him. “There is nothing you can do that will frighten me. You’ve already taken everything there was to take from me the first time you brought me here.”

“Is that so?” Deirdre took a step toward him and held out Sonya’s cloak. “Then who does this belong to?”

Broc was careful to keep his face passive and not bother glancing at the cloak. “I have no idea. Maybe Dunmore couldna find his cloak and decided to steal one.”

He waited for Dunmore’s angry rebuttal, but there was nothing.

“You have a woman.”

It wasn’t a question. Broc glared at Deirdre, his hatred burning bright. “You may kill me, but in the end, the MacLeods and their Warriors will win.”

“Kill you?” Deirdre said, her hand over her chest as her white eyes pierced him. “Dear Broc, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you suffer in ways you’ve never seen before. By the time I’m through with you, you will tell me everything I want to know about the MacLeods. And your woman.”

“I’ll see you in Hell first.”

Deirdre threw back her head and laughed. Her floor-length white hair twitched around her ankles. “This
is
Hell, Broc.”

THIRTEEN

Sonya finished tying off her braid with a strip of her chemise and ignored the pain of her wound. She’d been staring at Cairn Toul for some time. The wyrran had moved fast, only stopping because of Dunmore and his mount.

As she had feared, there had never been an opportunity to rescue Broc before they reached the mountain.

The few rest times had allowed Sonya to keep them in sight. The periods she had been exposed as she raced down the rolling hills had left her heart in her throat.

She had expected a wyrran to keep watch behind, to make sure no one followed. It was like they didn’t care. Or didn’t know she was there. Either way, she was glad.

The toughest part besides watching how roughly they handled Broc was the climb up the mountains. Her skirts constantly hampered her fast pace, and the cold air made her body stiff.

Sonya was ever thankful she had food and water in the satchel that she could eat as she walked. But the lack of sleep was taking its toll. Her body was exhausted, her mind weary. And her heart troubled. If she was going to help Broc she needed to be stronger—mentally and physically.

Sonya ducked behind a mound of boulders as she watched two wyrran come out of the mountain. It was as if they had walked through stone. Even if she had her magic, she couldn’t walk through rock.

Then she spotted the door. It was made of the same stone, so blended with the mountain that it almost couldn’t be seen.

The wyrran had moved faster, so they reached the castle well before she had. Broc had been in its depths for hours already. As much as Sonya wanted to rush inside, she knew in her present state she would only get herself captured.

Once again, the thought of being without her magic made her doubt herself. How could she, a mere female with no battle knowledge, help Broc who was inside the mountain, surrounded by God only knew how many wyrran?

If Deirdre found her, or she was captured, they’d use her against Broc, of that Sonya was certain.

She frowned and drew in a determined breath. Broc would never abandon her if Deirdre had captured her. She wouldn’t leave him either. Regardless of what happened, she would do whatever she could, however she could, to find and free him.

With night falling, she decided to sleep for a few hours. Her body needed rest in order to be ready to rescue Broc. As fatigued as she was, her mind was on Broc and what Deirdre was doing to him.

Sonya leaned against a boulder as she finished the last of an oatcake before huddling against the rock, away from the cold wind. A plan was forming in her mind. A plan that would most likely get her killed.

But if she could give Broc time to get free, it would be worth it.

*   *   *

Broc ached everywhere, even his eyelids. It had been so long since he had felt anything other than minor irritation over a wound that it was taking everything he had to keep his mind focused and not give away more than he should.

Deirdre had kept the
drough
blood inside him. She used it to her advantage, threatening to kill him with it while trying to persuade him she wasn’t his enemy.

Broc laughed every time.

Though it was becoming harder and harder to keep the smile on his face. It took great concentration to keep his lungs filling with air. And each time they did, the pain, the soul-shredding agony would make him question if it was worth it.

His skin burned from the inside out. His bones felt as if they were crumbling away. Pain. Misery. Torment. They were his only friends now, the only things which kept him from going stark raving mad.

And all of it had been done without Deirdre laying a finger on him.

He’d seen the use of
drough
blood used on Warriors before, but it had been a minute amount. Larena had nearly died because of
drough
blood.

He wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of Deirdre bringing him back.

It took powerful black magic to return a soul to its body, and a trace of evil always remained with that soul. Broc feared what he would become with Deirdre’s evil inside him.

He had fought his god and learned to control it, but if his god got a taste of Deirdre’s evil, Poraxus would take over. Completely.