Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends, Book 1) (34 page)

The world spun. I landed hard on the ground, my face hitting the dirt. A crushing heaviness lay across my back. Breath was impossible. I pushed, squirming, trying to escape the suffocating confinement. The weight lifted and a strong grip on either arm pulled me from the ground. Sennian held me.

Sennian’s lips pressed into a grim line as he glanced behind me. I panicked, whirling around. Another tribesman held a limp body in his arms.

Velloc!

Bright blood covered his chest.

My heart stopped.

I struggled in Sennian’s hold, but his impenetrable arms locked down around me. A burning ache flooded my chest, scorching a hole with every beat as I looked at the lifeless form of the man I loved. A sob escaped, and I gasped for oxygen.

Every
Caereni
warrior around us cleared a path, hacking through the enemy with a renewed force fueled from anger. A few of our tribe were injured, some had died, but none had impacted them like the loss of their leader.

Sennian maintained a protective hold on me, guiding me behind those that rushed Velloc off the battlefield. I clung to the hope that he’d only been injured. The fierceness of the battle on open ground allowed no time or shelter for first aid.

Two Romans stepped into our path. The tribesmen leading our escape slashed into them as if they’d sliced heated blades into soft butter. After a few hundred feet, we met no further resistance. The enemy had their wounds to lick; we had ours.

The moment we breached the protection of the forest, Sennian released me as Velloc’s body was gently laid upon the ground. Velloc didn’t move. Tears streamed down my face, and my fingers trembled uncontrollably as I approached him. Dark red covered the center of a chest that failed to rise. The spear must have pierced his heart from the back when he tackled me to save me. Its iron tip broke no skin on my body, yet had struck a deadly blow to my heart all the same.

I collapsed onto him, racked with sobs. My carelessness, my very presence on the battlefield, had cost the man I loved his life. Jumbled emotions—regret, anger, sadness—caused me such heart-wrenching pain, I wished I’d been the one to take the spear.

A heavy hand squeezed my shoulder, and I glanced up through bleary eyes.

Sennian.

He pulled me up into his arms and held me while I shook like a nearly drowned cat pulled from an icy lake. Finally, the tears ceased, a numb calm spreading into my veins like a morphine injection.

As my body settled down, I pushed away from protection I didn’t want. Sennian released his hold, and I turned around to face harsh reality. Everything felt foreign.

My state of shock lifted me out of my head, casting me aloft as an observer to the events going on around me. Two men carefully wrapped Velloc’s body in discarded furs and draped the bundle with reverent care over his horse.

With my head vacant of thoughts, I walked toward Malibu, but Sennian intercepted me.

I looked into pleading, darkened eyes. Onyx hair framed his dirty, blue-painted face. “Isobel, ride with me. I can protect you, and Velloc would want you safe.”

By default, Sennian had become tribal leader, even if no one formally acknowledged the fact yet. I sighed. Reason hadn’t returned to my traumatized mind, and I had no strength left to argue.

With no reply as answer enough, Sennian guided me to his stallion. He mounted the animal first then gripped my upper arms firmly, hoisting me up in front of him. The rest of our tribesmen quickly gathered the last of the belongings, preparing to leave.

A small group struck out ahead of us, heading back north. Sennian’s arms caged me protectively as he grabbed the reins, leading his horse to follow the others into the dense forest.

Enough moonlight broke through sparse cloud cover to illuminate several riders ahead. My unblinking eyes stared at the horse that carried its fur-wrapped burden. The slow pace and somber mood made it seem like the funeral procession had already begun.

Thankful I could see his body, rather than have it ominously behind us, I found small comfort in knowing that even in death, Velloc remained in good hands. I wondered if his soul had gone elsewhere. Surely, it had gone somewhere, his energy in life having connected so readily to the world and all its living creatures.

I growled. Feelings of loss and frustration at the beautiful facets of a vibrant man whose life had been cut short—who would never take another breath—threatened to overwhelm me again. I needed to get out of my heart and back into my head to make it through the journey.

“Talk to me, Sennian. What about the battle?”

I felt his chest inhale deeply and exhale slowly against my back.

“Tonight’s battle is over. Our attack wounded them severely in body and mind. Now we see if the enemy retreats and reconsiders a foolish claim on land they will never hold.”

“How will you know?”
The tribes had all packed up and left, from what I’d seen.

“Scouts will remain. There’s no need to stay when we’re only a few days ride from home.”

Home.

A bright moment of clarity pierced through the heavy shroud of depression. “Sennian, we have to go to the
Lugi
first. We need to meet with Drust. Velloc would’ve insisted upon it.”

Sennian’s entire body moved, his chin brushing the top of my head as he nodded. “Very well, Isobel. The
Lugi
are on our way.”

The moment I visualized
Brodie Castle, that strong, familiar tug of energy pulled at my core. In my darkest hour, I smiled. Something along the timeline had clicked a stuck tumbler into place, unlocking the passage out of Velloc’s world.

Like a silent boarding call for the only passenger on the plane that could ever hear it .
 . .

I’d been summoned .
 . .
home.

CHAPTER Thirty-three

A cold wind bit at my wet skin as I rose from the hot spring, but I ignored the discomfort. Linen towels warmed by a nearby fire were wrapped around me. Attendants led me over by the flames and sat me down on a stone bench.

Scota’s friendly face smiled as she knelt before me. She took a dampened cloth and wiped my face. With careful precision, she dipped a brush into a pot of woad paint and traced over the faint stain marks, darkening every symbol that Velloc had painted less than twenty-four hours ago.

I dressed with care. After I politely declined a fresh change of clothes, my clothing had been cleaned, thanks to Scota’s thoughtfulness.

As I pulled on my leather pants, tying the strands at the waist, I remembered how Velloc had left part of my outfit for me that first morning in his village. I fastened the same bikini top, recalling every time he deftly removed the scrap of material with a pull of his fingers and a smirk on his face.

With a duck of my head, I slung the bow and quiver of arrows over my back. I squatted and strapped my ax to my ankle. I rose up and adjusted the scabbard hanging on my left hip. My fur, fastened by a jewel-encrusted, golden torque gifted from Scota, draped over my left shoulder.

The women surrounded me as we walked together toward the sea. We passed by a line of
Caereni
tribesmen who fanned along the entire edge of the cliff as far as I could see.

Sennian, Drust, and many elder tribesmen joined the procession as we made our way down to the beach. We descended winding steps that had been cut into the earth and fortified with stone.

A small crescent of golden beach lined a bay that calmed the power of the ocean’s waves. An enormous funeral pyre built upon buoyant logs gently rose and fell with the lapping of the water. Velloc’s body lay in peaceful repose at the top.

I walked to the edge of the structure, kissed my fingers, and placed them briefly on his cold, blue lips. My hand dropped to my side, gripping the hilt of the sword he’d lovingly trained me on.

“Velloc, I love you. Beyond this world, wherever you are, our bond remains. You are forever a part of me. I’m who I am today because of you. You not only helped shape the woman, you created the warrior.”

Tears filled my eyes. I took a deep breath, willing the waterworks away. They’d been shed all day. I’d cried for hours until the dead sleep of exhaustion had claimed me. But the short time I’d had for mourning had come and gone.

Only a whisper made it past my cramped throat. “I know you’re still with me, watching. Your
best
warrior?” I smiled, cherishing the reminder. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

With a sharp nod, I stepped back. Drust motioned to the elders as Sennian moved to my side.

The men unfastened the rope anchoring the vessel to a metal stake and tossed it onto the pyre’s wooden base. With two men on either side, they pushed the craft out into the water, wading up to their thighs as they guided it out. On a count together, they gave a final shove and the monument to a great leader, tribute to a courageous warrior, the last earthly remains of the man himself was set to sea toward the east at nearly the exact moment the sun set to the west.

The flames of a fire blazed on the beach to my far right. An archer lit an arrow and held it midshaft in his fist, thrusting it high in the air. The ridgeline rippled with motion; in a rapid wave, lighted arrows illuminated the edge of the curving cliff.

I looked forward again. Our archer’s arrow had been nocked and drawn. He glanced at me out of respect, and I nodded.

His arrow flew, straight and true, into the base of the structure. Pitch must have sealed the joints between the wood, because the entire vessel ignited into a raging firestorm within seconds.

A volley of flaming arrows followed. Brilliant orange points of fire arched over us and landed into the waves, snuffed out by the cold water. The North Sea’s current stole away the blazing inferno, pulling it toward the horizon line and out of sight toward the south.

Velloc’s body may have left, but I felt him.

With each heartbeat and every breath, I would
forever
remember how he was instrumental in shaping the strong person that I’d become. Velloc had become a permanent part of me—a true soul mate that transcended the physical world.

I took a fortifying breath and turned, climbing the stone-lined steps alone. I walked through the heart of Drust’s village with a steeled mind, stray villagers I passed becoming part of the landscape.

On a singular mission, I’d dressed to pay my respects to a warrior who gave his life for me in his world. I’d armed myself, intending to save the life of a warrior in another.

I didn’t need to remember my way back to the shrine Drust had erected to house the artifact as cherished by his people as it was by me,
The Traveler.
The relic had tied itself to me in such a way, I felt as if I had an internal GPS to the damn thing. By the time I stepped into the small, circular structure, it vibrated with incredible intensity.

I had no misgivings about leaving the world of the Picts without saying goodbye. Although I’d been accepted as one of them by the
Caereni
tribe, by Drust and the
Lugi
, and by Dotán and Scota and other friends I’d made along the way . . . I didn’t belong here any longer.

My heart had left the Pict world the moment Velloc’s stopped beating. I now belonged in Iain’s world.

In many ways, I belonged in no world . . .

As I lowered a steady hand onto the box that had governed my fate with two men in three worlds over the span of two thousand years, a newborn strength stretched its legs within me like a deadly jungle cat roused from a long nap .
 . . hungry and ready for the hunt.

A slow smirk curled my lips. “
I belong to time itself.
”

I slammed my hand down hard, connecting the circuit, sending me home.

* * *

I landed on braced feet in Iain’s shadow-filled, thirteenth-century study. On the next heartbeat, I whirled back around and barged into the cloudy dimension of angels and visions. A warrior on a mission, I intended to pack my arsenal with every weapon known to man .
 . .
and then some.

I shouted into the misty ether. “Sunshine! Where the
hell
are you?”

White crystalline particles floated around me as I marched forward. I stopped, my biceps and thighs tensing, my chest heaving. With determination, I lowered my head, closing my eyes.

Power in all the soft-and-fluffy worked off of the whole your-wish-your-command concept. I visualized the larger-than-life form of Skorpius: black wings, raven hair, strong jaw, dazzling blue-green eyes, and just the right amount of attitude.

A menacing presence raised the hair on the back of my neck. I stood my ground, leaving my back to an entity that could obliterate me from existence with one bored exhalation. I knew it. He knew I knew it. No need to discuss the obvious.

Perfect.
I smiled. The kind of control I wielded continued to amaze me. “Well, well. Think of a sugar-frosted Cupcake and one magically appears. I conjured you straight from my mind.”

An intrusive pressure pushed into my mind, Sunshine’s low voice echoing as if he’d uttered the words from his lips. “
Imagine that . . .
”

I gasped, chills racing down my spine.

Low laughter boomed bass tones into my body. “And ‘hell’? Isn’t that rather oxymoronic?”

Irritated at his amusement, I crossed my arms, jutting my left hip out. My short sword swayed with the movement. “Whatever, Sunshine. Look, much as I’d love to spar words, I don’t have time for pleasantries. I have a man to save.”

A snort parted the loose hair on my nape. “Go on. I’m listening.”

I turned and leaned forward, glaring straight up at the creature as his darkness towered over me. With a rod of a finger forged straight from the steel of my spine, I poked hard into the center of his sternum. “
You
. . . are going to help me.”

Another snort fanned hot air across my cheeks. His sparkling, faceted eyes narrowed, taking true measure of my worth. With a click, he set his jaw as he seemed to swallow my attitude.

I felt like the cockiest slayer before the legendary fire-breathing dragon. Not one ounce of me cared. I notched my chin higher, setting my shoulders back, daring him to defy me.

A slow smile spread across his face, turning his menacing demeanor deadly. “Well, today is your lucky day,
Runt
.”

I didn’t move. Not a muscle in my body would twitch until I had everything I needed.

The overpowering nature of the male arching over me intensified as his voice filled my head again. “
Ahhh, but you
do
have everything you need, Ms. MacInnes. Remember? Your wish? My command.
”

My urgency tamped down a tremendous urge to break into a grin at the power he suggested. Sunshine’s barbs kept me sober to the mission at hand.

“Again with the ‘Ms. MacInnes’ shit?” I grumbled and turned, expecting him to follow.

“Does it irritate you?” he asked. The sound of his voice boomed ahead of me, coming from the darkness of the portal, even though I couldn’t see his form.

“Yes.”

“Then, yes,
Ms. MacInnes
.”

I grunted in appreciation of his
thoughtfulness
and stepped through the portal.

Both feet landed solidly on the cold stone floor as I stared at the toes of my leather Pict boots. With a unique heightened sense of awareness, I distinguished the power of the wall behind me, the energy snapping through my veins, and the undeniable presence of Skorpius that I felt but couldn’t see.

I stormed from the room in my deerskin pants and halter top without giving a damn who saw me. Iain could get good and pissed at me again, and I would love every damn minute of it.

The dark corridor led to a silent great hall of an abandoned castle. The only sounds that penetrated the creepy quiet were the breaths from my charged lungs. Shafts of light from the clerestory windows illuminated suspended dust motes seconds before I strode through them.

Adrenaline fired superhero strength into my arm as I pulled open the heavy front door like it had been bladed on ice. A bright, blue-sky day belied the graveness that had descended onto the clan. No one trained in the courtyard. Children were absent from play. Besides the occasional person walking from one cottage to another, everyone had gone into homebound lockdown.

I leveled a glare beyond the castle grounds, where our clan’s attackers had lain in wait, and pulled my gaze closer in, surveying all that fell under my protection. No one and nothing would stand in my way of fighting for them.

An enemy who dared take our leader—brazen fools that had put every soul here in jeopardy—had become my target.

Fire blazed in my heart.

Fight whipped through my veins.

With one love lost in the heat of battle, I refused to lose another. Flames scorched into my nostrils as a raging beast I’d never known existed awakened, ready to obliterate everything in its path.

I strode down the hill toward the stables with single-minded purpose.

In my tightened fist, I gripped the hilt of the short sword strapped to my hip. Velloc had trained me well. We both had no idea the skills he’d helped me hone into sharp reflexes would be used to save his rival—the other man in my life.

Now . . . the only man in my life.

I burst through the closed doors of the stable, heading down the fenced stalls in search of a suitable mount. The stable boy with the bright red hair watched in shocked silence as I chose a brilliant white mare I’d never seen before. She pawed the ground while her ears trained forward, as if she was excited to see me, as if she knew my presence meant her freedom.

“She ready for battle?” I asked, stroking a flat palm down her velvet neck while I unlatched the stall door. The horse buried her muzzle into my hair, learning my scent.