Warrior Untamed (24 page)

Though she accepted that he didn’t love her as she loved him, she knew well enough that his need to
rescue
her would override his good sense. She’d seen it happen before.

Waiting, as usual, was hideously difficult, made more so this time by Brie’s concern that Hall would arrive at any moment, waving the scrolls at her like some demented creature, determined to capture the enemy she wanted dead.

Though it would take the Sword of the Ancients to kill the Beast, the body belonged to a man, and she intended to bring down that body with a bow. Once he was disabled, it should be easy enough to deal with Fenrir. After all, the blade had barely touched Hall and he’d nearly died.

Though it had no effect at all on her.

She’d begun to suspect that the sword had chosen her because of the ancient markings she wore. Orabilis had warned her of something like that, Magic being drawn to Magic. Perhaps this was exactly the situation that Orabilis had envisioned when she warned that Brie might regret her sacrifice in the end.

Her stomach churned as she considered what was to come, making her regret the few bits of food she had managed to force down hours before.

If only the damned Beast would hurry up and show himself! According to Hall’s claim about the jewels, Fenrir should have burst out of the gates by now in a mad dash to claim his Magic.

Unless Hall was wrong. Unless the jewels had absolutely no effect on the Beast’s Magic, and he was completely unaware of their presence. Or worse yet, maybe he was very much aware of their presence and was sitting safely inside the castle walls, laughing at them.

Just as she’d almost managed to convince herself their plan was a complete failure, she heard the noise she’d been waiting for: the grating screech of the iron portcullis rising.

Her muscles tensed in anticipation as she caught sight of her quarry. He moved as if carried by the wind, his blond hair streaming out behind him as the huge animal he rode galloped away at an ever-increasing speed.

Bridget scanned both sides of the castle, looking for any sign of the men who were to join her in the chase. Not a leaf or branch shifted out of place. Where
were
they?

Already, Torquil was disappearing into the distance. They would lose him if she waited, no matter what the plan had originally been.

With a switch of her reins and a kick of her feet, she was off.

H
E WAS TOO
late!

Damn the stubborn woman for not sticking to the plan. Damn his eyes for not finding the scrolls sooner. Damn the Norns for thwarting his every effort.

Hall wheeled his horse onto the trail to pursue Bridget, who was already shrinking in the distance. Leaning low over his horse’s neck, he charged along, gaining speed and slowly reducing the distance between them. Behind him, he picked up the sounds of the others joining in the chase.

Northwest they rode, eating up the miles as they followed the Beast on a sure course toward the jagged cliffs overlooking the North Sea.

He hardly felt the sting of the mist turning to rain as it bit into his face. Hardly heard the distant rumble of thunder and the crackle of lightning. His whole focus and concentration was on reaching Bridget before she reached the Beast.

Ahead of them loomed the great cliffs where walls of jagged rock plunged straight down into the churning sea. One way or another, their wild flight would be ending soon.

Though he’d closed the distance that separated him and Bridget considerably, she had also closed the distance between her and Fenrir.

Hall skirted out to the side, hoping to cut her
off. Barring that, there was a chance he could insert himself between Bridget and Fenrir. He’d settle for any small favors he could get, but it appeared there were no favors in his future.

There was no way for him to get to her quickly enough.

Bridget charged across the last bit of open ground like a maddened Valkyrie, her hair billowing out around her as her arrows flew, swift and sure, toward her target. She rode without fear, without reservation, holding nothing back.

In that moment, Hall knew he must have her for his own—forever. She was his kindred spirit, his untamed warrior, the one woman who could ride at his side into eternity.

When this was over, somehow he would convince her to take him, no matter that his life was not his own. No matter that he was destined to spend his years protecting Mankind. He would do it without complaint, if he could have her at his side.

If she’d have him.

If they survived this battle.

B
RIDGET STEELED HER
senses and let loose her arrow, her only thought its intended trajectory. He was prey, like any other. Her arrow would find its target and bring his frenzied escape to a halt.

A second time she pulled back the heavy string and let go, knowing even as she did that she’d missed.

Think like the rabbit,
her father had taught her.
Anticipate where the rabbit will turn.

Hunting this Beast was no different than hunting the rabbit. He was simply a larger target to hit.

She tightened her knees as she urged her mount to another burst of speed with a kick of her heels. Quickly, she nocked another arrow into her bow. She was one with the animal she rode, feeling his movements beneath her as if he were an extension of her own body. One with the arrow in her bow. One with the target in her sight.

Lifting her arms, she pulled back, loosing the arrow. Following its trajectory to its target.

Success!

The arrow buried itself high in Torquil’s leg, eliciting a scream of surprised pain.

“Yer pain has just begun, you filthy bastard,” she murmured, lifting her bow again.

If she were to have any chance at the man, she needed him off his horse.

Two shots in rapid succession, one to his arm and one to split the reins in his hand. Another scream, this one a long, unearthly sound, such as she’d heard only once before. The night of the horrible storm when she’d first realized that Hall would not stay with her.

Torquil’s mount, given his head by the loose reins, reared in fear of the approaching cliff, throwing his rider to the ground before racing away.

Brie slowed her approach, giving her prey time to realize he had nowhere to go but to face her. She
tied the bow into the sheath on her back and drew the sword as she slid off her horse to confront her enemy.

The sword’s song sang in her ears, giving her courage, urging her forward. Killing a man was no different than hunting her dinner.

Except that some small voice in the back of her head kept trying to convince her that it was different. She’d done it before, but that truly had been different. She’d done that to save Hall from an evil villain who’d closed in on him when he was defenseless.

Just as she closed in on Torquil now.

Didn’t that make her the evil villain in this scenario?

This was no time to doubt herself. No time for her conscience to kick in. Not when her revenge was so near at hand.

Her only option was to drown out the voice in her head.

“Remember me, Torquil MacDowylt?” she called out as she approached the laird, sword held aloft in front of her. “Or perhaps you remember my father, Hamud MacCulloch. You hanged him for the crime of following yer brother, Malcolm, when he escorted Malcolm’s wife to Tordenet.”

That was it. That was her reason for her being here. Her justification for what she was about to do.

Torquil rolled from his back to his stomach and pushed up to his knees, managing to get unsteadily to his feet.

“Why would I waste my thoughts on remembering such an insignificant creature?” he returned, laughing in a booming, unearthly voice as he broke off the arrow that stuck out from his leg and threw it behind him. “Is that your best effort, girl? If it is, then you’re lost, because your best is not good enough. Not by far.”

Brie lifted the sword, gripping it with both hands as he charged toward her. Any doubt she had about her ability to strike a man down fled when his eyes began to glow eerie red.

It might look like Torquil MacDowylt she faced, but it wasn’t. It was the Beast who charged toward her.

With all her strength, she swung the sword at his neck, connecting with his shoulder as he attempted to dodge her blow.

Another scream from her attacker, this one a thousand times louder than before. The screech echoed so loudly, she dropped the sword to cover her ears. The long, loud, rattling howl of a creature unknown to the Mortal world filled her mind and buffeted her senses as she stumbled back from the slumped shell of the man.

A cloud of black smoke wisped out of the gaping wound in Torquil’s shoulder and swirled up into the air above him. A sickening, putrid smell reminiscent of rotted meat filled the air as the smoke gathered into a tightly swirling mass. It throbbed and pulsed
before it stretched out, plummeting straight toward her.

Frozen to her spot, Brie could do nothing but watch in horror as the black mist engulfed her, cutting off her air, dragging her to her knees.

H
ALL KICKED HIS
horse, demanding every ounce of speed the animal could give him.

“No!”

The cry of denial was torn from his lips as he watched Fenrir’s essence drain from Torquil’s body, gather its strength, and plunge down over Bridget. It encased her in its black mist and tightened around her, driving her to her knees before it suddenly puffed away.

The jewel’s protection had held, but its effect wouldn’t last for long. One single jewel was no match for the Beast.

Once again the black mist churned and gyrated, gathering strength for another onslaught. Bridget, unaware of the danger, struggled to her feet and picked up the sword, holding it point down to support her as she stood.

He was close enough now—he
had
to be.

Hall tore one of the scrolls from his bag and ripped the ribbon from around it, holding it up at his side like a knight carrying a banner into battle.

The mist pulsed as if it were being pulled apart before stretching out into a long, thin strand of black
thread. It flowed toward him to cover the face of the scroll, a writhing, living mass. So much weight was added to the scroll, Hall was forced to drop his reins and use two hands to roll it back up. Once rolled, he dropped it into the bag and turned his horse to race toward the men who followed.

“Gather the jewels!” he barked at Eric, the first to reach him. “Put them inside the bag to secure the scroll. You must hurry!”

He handed off the bag, relying on his companion to carry out his instructions. It had to be done immediately, before the Beast could recover and escape.

Then Hall turned his horse to see Torquil on his feet, advancing on Bridget.

“I
REMEMBER YOU
,”
Torquil snarled, his eyes wild, but with the madness of mere man, not the Beast. “You tried to kill me, and then you escaped my vengeance.”

“As you escaped mine,” Brie replied, struggling to lift the sword.

Her encounter with the essence of the Beast had weakened her, as if the hideous mist that had engulfed her had sucked away her life force to bolster its own energy.

Even weak, she was still a match for the bastard advancing on her. One arm hung limply at his side, blood staining the shoulder of his tunic where her sword had already connected. His movements were further hampered by the arrow broken off in his thigh.

It would be easy enough to run him through, if only she could manage to lift the damn sword. Easy enough, had she not completely lost her appetite for killing this man. It was the Beast that was responsible for her father’s death. The Beast that needed to pay.

The realization hit hard, clouding her eyes with welling tears. If she killed Torquil now, she’d be no better than him. No different at all.

“Stay where you are, MacDowylt. The time has come for you to answer for yer crimes. My friends will be here soon enough.”

Torquil’s face was distorted in a crazed grin, all his madness on open display.

“I may well travel to the next world this day. But I willna travel alone.” He pulled a wicked-looking blade from a sheath he wore strapped at his side and lunged forward.

Brie sidestepped his attack, dragging the sword she still couldn’t lift to circle around Torquil, her back now to cliffs. From this vantage, she had a clear view of her rescuers racing toward her. She had only to hold the madman off for a few minutes to allow them to reach her.

If only the madman would cooperate.

Already he lumbered toward her, blade raised, eyes glazed over with his madness, a cry of rage on his lips.

Brie struggled to lift the sword for her defense as the world around her slowed to a crawl. Though her
muscles were weak, her senses seemed sharper than ever, as if the gods themselves wanted her to experience her last moments on earth to their fullest.

The ground under her feet vibrated with the pounding hooves that couldn’t possibly reach her in time. Rain pelleted her face, and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks far below warred with a distant thunder rumbling in the heavens.

Torquil slammed into her and she dropped the sword to fasten both hands around his wrist, focusing all her energy on holding off the dagger he swung toward her face. As they struggled, her feet slid on the slippery ground and she lost her balance, tumbling backward.

The ground came up fast to meet her, slamming against her and stealing her breath. She managed to keep a tight grip around Torquil’s wrist, though with him on top of her, his blade was mere inches above her shoulder.

His teeth bared, he looked more like a rabid animal than a man as he forced the blade closer to her body.

She’d underestimated her opponent. She wasn’t a match for him in her current state. Unless she did something drastic, she couldn’t hold on much longer.

Sometimes in life, you must let go in order to hold on.

Orabilis’s words shimmered in her memory and she gave herself over to them.