Darkest Highlander

by Donna Grant

  Water tumbled from those high mountains to fall in an array of spectacular waterfalls. Broc found the perfect spot near a stream with several small cascades.

  The rocky, rolling landscape would provide the cover they needed. Broc dove from the cover of the clouds to swoop low over the land.

  A startled buck raced away from him as he flew by. He reached the stream and hovered over the spot a moment before allowing his feet to touch the ground. An instant later, his indigo skin and wings had disappeared.

  “Where are we?” Sonya asked as she blinked and looked around.

  Broc gently pushed her down to sit on a flat rock. He took the satchel from her and reached inside for the water skin. “Near Glencoe.”

  “Glencoe,” she repeated. “I thought we were returning to MacLeod Castle.”

  “We probably should have, but as I flew from Cairn Toul, I knew we had to come here first.” Broc filled the water skin before handing it to her. “Drink. Then we’ll talk.”

  He squatted across from her and waited as she drank her fill. She never stopped gazing around them. He wanted to see to the wound on her head as well as her previous injury on her hand. He couldn’t imagine either were doing well at this point.

  She lowered the water skin. “Now, tell me why Glencoe?”

  Broc shook his head slowly. “Nay. First, you will tell me what you were doing in Cairn Toul as well as how you became injured.”

  “When you left the inn, I saw you. I saw you land in the woods, and I knew that at any moment there would be wyrran barging into the inn. None came.”

  “You should have stayed put.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “It took some doing, but I was able to convince Jean to let me leave the inn.”

  “Tell me you didna go into the forest.” The thought of her near so many wyrran left him fuming. He had warned her to stay away.

  She shrugged. “I had to know what was going on. Before I ever heard Dunmore, I knew they weren’t there for me. It had been too easy for you to lure them away if they had been after me. They had come for you.”

  “So you saw them take me?”

  “I did,” she answered with a quick nod. “And I followed.”

  Broc ran a hand down his face. Sonya was going to be the death of him. Didn’t she understand the danger? Didn’t she realize how much it meant to him that she stay alive?

  “I had to, Broc. I wasn’t going to let her hurt you again.”

  He looked into her amber eyes and felt something shift inside his chest. He saw the depth of fear and worry she had for him. All the anger dissipated, replaced with … awe.

  She had risked her life for him. It was almost too much to believe.

  “What happened?” he finally managed to get past his lips.

  “I found the door into Cairn Toul but couldn’t get in. Then, it opened and there was a wyrran in front of me. I used the dagger to cut off its head, but the blade got stuck in the bone and I couldn’t free it.”

  Broc inwardly groaned. “You went into that mountain without a weapon?”

  She lifted a slim shoulder in a shrug. “I wasn’t inside long when I stumbled upon Dunmore. He was mortally wounded and dying.”

  “He wasna wounded when I saw him. But he willna be able to harm anyone ever again.” Broc frowned as he began to put things together. “It was Dunmore who hurt you, wa it no’?”

  “We had made a pact. I would heal him if he took me to you.”

  Broc could only stare at her. “I thought you said you couldna heal anymore.”

  “I knew I couldn’t, but I was willing to try.”

  For you went left unsaid. But Broc knew that’s what she had meant. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. And it left him rejoicing. Still angry she had put herself in danger, but overjoyed nonetheless.

  “I tried to convince him to bring me to you first,” Sonya continued, unaware of his inner turmoil. “Dunmore refused. I had no choice but to try.”

  “You obviously healed him.”

  “Not wholly. I found a small thread of magic somehow. I stopped the bleeding and managed to mend the wound together, but he was still in a great amount of pain.”

  Broc blew out a breath. The longer the tale went on, the more irritated he became. She had done it for him, though. No one had ever done such a thing for him, and that was the only thing which kept him from telling her how he never wanted her to put herself in that kind of danger again.

  “So, what happened?” he asked. He had to know the rest.

  “I was able to feel a small portion of my magic. It repaired my hands before it began to heal Dunmore.”

  “Good,” Broc said quickly.

  Sonya smiled. “He wasn’t pleased. Once I had convinced him I had healed him all I could, we went in search of you. I kept him in front of me at all times so I could see him. But then I heard you.”

  “Ah,” Broc said. It must have been when he’d bellowed.

  “I knew which direction to go in then. I forgot about Dunmore, which I shouldn’t have done. I realized my error right as I began to pass him. He shoved me into the wall and my head hit a stone. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke with wyrran around me.”

  Broc shifted so that he sat on a large, flat rock and braced his elbows on his knees. “So you can heal yourself now?”

  She reached up and touched her head. “I think so. It’s odd. I can feel my magic again, but it isn’t as great as before. It takes a lot for me to be able to use it. I thought I had used what little I had left on Dunmore, but when I awoke in the dungeons, I could feel my magic.”

  “I’m no’ going to question how you can feel it again, I’m just glad you can.”

  She grinned. “I thought I was half a woman after my magic left me. Odd how when I thought I could possibly be going to my death to free you, I realized I was still the same person. Magic or not.”

  “Magic doesna make you special, Sonya. You are special because you are you.” He held her gaze before he cleared his throat. “And your head? How does it feel?”

  “It still aches, but not as much as before. It’s also stopped bleeding.”

  Broc was pleased. He had never ceased feeling Sonya’s magic, and now she could once again feel it giving her the confidence he had come to associate with her. “Come, wash the blood from your face.”

  She rose and walked to the edge of the stream. There was a short waterfall just to the right of them, the water running over and around the countless and varied rocks that lined the stream. The water flowed down the mountain, creating the many waterfalls.

  Broc never took his eyes from Sonya as she knelt on a long, mostly level rock and dipped her hands into the cool water. She splashed her face, the water droplets trickling over her jaw and down her throat before disappearing into her gown.

  He had never been so envious of water before. It was touching her as Broc had never dared, but he had certainly dreamed about. He knew her kiss, but he wanted to know all of her. Every wonderful, delightful inch of her.

  As if sensing his gaze, she looked over her shoulder at him. The hair around her face was damp and curling into thick ringlets. The sun peeked from behind a cloud and set her locks on fire.

  Sonya smoothed her hair from her face and returned to Broc. “Tell me how you got loose from Deirdre. And why they took you.”

  “They took me because Deirdre wanted revenge. I betrayed her. She always suspected Quinn would, but I had fooled her.”

  Sonya nodded, her lips twisting wryly. “I see.”

  “She was going to kill me and bring me back to life as many times as it took for the evil to take root and my god to seize control.”

  “Could that really happen?”

  He frowned. “Aye.”

  “By all that’s holy,” Sonya murmured. “How many times did she kill you?”

  “None.”

  Sonya’s eyes grew large. “What did you do?”

  “She’s vain. I was able to get her to talk
about herself. She has always been too confident, too certain of the outcomes. She began to tell me about another artifact she has located.”

  Sonya smiled. “Ah, the reason we are in Glencoe.”

  “Exactly. I doona know where precisely the artifact is, but I know it is in a Celtic burial mound.”

  “Tell me you’re jesting,” Sonya said with a shiver. “You know no one can go inside the mounds.”

  “I wish I were jesting.”

  “She could be lying.”

  Broc shook his head. “I know her, Sonya. She wasna.”

  “Forget the tomb right now. I want to know how you got free of her.”

  “She had me far below the mountain where she kept Phelan all those years.”

  Sonya’s face crinkled with disgust. “Isla told me that place is desolate.”

  “The entire mountain is. But I was isolated there, and that’s what she wanted. I was to be the leader of her new Warriors. She threatened to harm those I cared about, and with her magical chains holding me, I couldna get free.”

  “Did you convince her to release you?”

  He smiled. “Somehow through the agony of the drough blood I recalled the spell I heard her use to unlock doors and chains. I knew I had nothing to lose in trying it.”

  “But you aren’t a Druid. How could the magic work for you?”

  Broc shrugged. “It’s just a spell.”

  “Anyone can say a spell, but you if don’t have magic, it won’t work.”

  “I suppose there’s some in my god then, because the chains released me.”

  Sonya bit her lip with her teeth. “There must be some magic in your god, in all the gods. It would explain how the Warriors can sense Druid magic.”

  “It certainly would.”

  “I cannot imagine Deirdre was happy when the chains released you.”

  Broc chuckled as he recalled Deirdre’s fury. “She was more surprised than I that it actually worked. I attacked her and beheaded her before I turned to Dunmore. I killed him and went looking for you.”

  “That’s quite a story.”

  “As was yours.”

  She ducked her head and smiled. “We were lucky, Broc.”

  “Verra lucky.”

  “Almost too lucky, some would say.”

  Broc sighed, Sonya’s words echoing his from earlier. “If she captures us again, neither of us will be so fortunate.”

  “Precisely,” Sonya said. “Which is why I think it would be wiser to return to MacLeod Castle and gather more Warriors to search for the tomb.”

  Broc shook his head. “We doona have the time. Deirdre knows Reaghan is the first artifact. If Deirdre amasses the artifacts, we’ve failed. We have to try. I’ve gotten us here before them. If we hurry, we should be able to find the burial mound and retrieve the artifact well before Deirdre arrives.”

  For long moments Sonya stared at him before she smiled and stood. “I suppose we need to begin searching then.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Deirdre rose up on her elbows and wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. She rolled over and sat up only to find Dunmore’s body, twisted and broken, beside her.

  Somehow Broc had gotten free of her chains. How could a Warrior use her spell? She had never thought any of them paid attention to her spells, or would realize how valuable they would be.

  Apparently she had been wrong.

  And she loathed being wrong.

  Once more she was without a Warrior. It would have taken weeks to break Broc into the Warrior she wanted and needed, but it would have been worth it. Broc was a leader, had been a leader in his former life.

  He would have been the perfect Warrior to challenge Fallon MacLeod to rule the others. But she knew exactly where to begin searching for Broc.

  “Deirdre,” whispered a voice in the cavern.

  The deep, gravelly voice bounced off the stone walls and echoed around her. The black smoke came from nowhere and encircled her, constricting her breathing and hampering her movements.

  “My lord,” she whispered, because she could barely talk.

  The voice tsked several times. “Deirdre, you had him within your grasp. I told you all you needed to do to convert him and have his god take control.”

  “I didn’t realize he knew my spell.”

  “Or that he could use it,” the voice said stonily.

  Deirdre refused to show fear. This was diabhul, Satan, her master. She had given her soul to him and would do all that he commanded. “I have failed you now, but he will be mine.”

  “You need him and Quinn. There are others, but for now, concentrate on those two.”

  Deirdre nodded. “I will see it done, my lord.”

  “I want this world covered in darkness. For death and fear to fill the air. You will rule it, Deirdre. I choose you from all the drough because you are the only one who has the boldness to see this through.”

  “I have done everything you asked.”

  “No!” the voice boomed around her. “Your insolence allowed the MacLeods to escape again and again. Now, you have no Warriors and Broc is gone.”

  Her skin prickled where his anger coated her. It felt as if she were on fire. “There are the artifacts still.”

  The annoyance disappeared as he chuckled. “Do you really believe those will help you? The MacLeods already have one, and your overconfidence has given Broc the means to acquire the second.”

  “I will stop him.”

  “Forget the artifacts. They are nothing. No amount of magic can compare to my power. And yours. You know this.”

  “Aye, my lord, but the Seer said if I am to succeed, I need the artifacts.”

  The smoke began to drift upward. “I command you again, Deirdre. Forget the artifacts. Find more Warriors. You will need them.”

  Deirdre waited until the smoke was gone before she rose to her feet. She had always listened to her lord, but this time she could not. She knew in the depths of her black soul she needed those artifacts.

  And she would have them.

  Deirdre left the cavern, her mind forming multiple plans as she walked the never-ending stairway to the top. Once she reached the doorway, she called to her wyrran. She sent groups of six of them to the clans where she knew a god was passed down through their blood.

  Once the wyrran had departed, she hurried to create more. She had lost so many in her battle with the MacLeods, but the wyrran were easy to form. She would have her army.

  How many hours passed as she worked, she didn’t know.

  Deirdre leaned her hands against the stones as exhaustion weighed upon her. She had been creating wyrran for hours. The stones, however, gave her the relief and strength she needed to fortify her.

  And as much as she didn’t want to, she knew she had to leave her precious mountain to seek Broc.

  * * *

  Sonya walked beside Broc in companionable silence. The hills they crossed had been easy to climb. So far they hadn’t seen any burial mounds, but with the landscape, they could easily pass near one and not know it.

  She glanced at the mountains. “I don’t think the mound would be in the mountains.”

  “Nay,” Broc agreed. “Too much rock.”

  “It could be anywhere. Should we go to the village and ask?”

  Broc shook his head. “I doona want anyone to know we’re looking for it.”

  “Then we could be searching for weeks.”

  “Let’s hope no’. It willna be too much longer before Deirdre arrives.”

  Sonya frowned. “Deirdre? She never leaves her mountain.”

  “Things have changed. I suspect since losing the first artifact she’ll come for this one herself.”

  Sonya hoped Broc was wrong. She didn’t want to encounter Deirdre, not with her magic as low as it was. “Maybe you should take a look from above. Fly around and see if you can see anything.”

  “No’ without you,” he said.

  “I’ll stay right here.”

  He
stopped to look around them before he turned dark eyes filled with reluctance and determination on her. “In the open? Where anyone could see you? I doona think so.”

  “You said yourself a wyrran can smell my magic. What difference does it make where I am?”

  Broc clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I’m no’ leaving you.”

  “You want to find the tomb, and we need to hurry. What other choice do we have?”

  “Nay. This isna a debate, Sonya.”

  Sonya faced him, an idea taking root. “What if you use your power? You can find anyone. Why not whoever is buried in the mound?”

  “Because I doona know who this person was. I have to know who I’m searching for or it doesna work.”

  “Oh,” she said, and began walking again. She had thought she had solved their dilemma.

  Broc caught up with her in two strides. “It was a good thought. Verra clever thinking.”

  Such words shouldn’t make her so happy, but they did. Deliriously so.

  They walked for another quarter hour before Broc turned them off their course.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s a storm coming,” he said and pointed to the sky.

  Sonya glanced up and saw the clouds gathering overhead. She hadn’t even noticed them. The Highlands were notorious for sudden, freak storms and disorienting mists which descended from the mountains when least expected.

  No sooner had Broc mentioned the storm than it began to drizzle rain. Sonya gripped his hand when he took hold of her and led her toward the mountains.

  The last thing she wanted to do was try to climb on the wet rocks, but she followed Broc. By the time they reached the edge of the mountain she was soaked through and shivering.

  “Here,” Broc shouted over the din of the rain.

  Sonya followed him into the cave and stopped at the entrance as he let the satchel drop from his hands. She couldn’t see in the dark as he could with his advanced eyesight, and until she knew nothing lurked in the gloom, like a wolf, she wasn’t going to move.

  Broc glanced at her and grinned. “There’s nothing in the cave, Sonya.”