by Donna Grant
With nothing else to do, Sonya began to look for a weapon she could use in case Deirdre was somehow able to open the door. Sonya inspected the spears and swords which hung on the walls.
But it was the sword thay lay in the dead man’s hands that grabbed her attention.
Both his hands were wrapped around the pommel and the sword rested on top of him. Along the blade was beautiful knot work that had been etched into the metal. Mixed with the interlacing plait of knots was more Gaelic writing.
Sonya wished she could read the markings. She held her hand over the sword and felt magic. It was faint, and not nearly as strong as the magic guarding the burial mound, but it was definitely magic.
She longed to grasp the sword, to examine both sides of the blade. Sonya had never cared much for weapons before, but this sword called to her in the same way trees did.
“Amazing,” Sonya murmured. She leaned over the corpse when she saw the large garnet stone atop the hilt of the sword.
Garnets were highly prized. The sheer size of the stone, which was as large as a child’s fist, must have cost a fortune.
Her gaze then spotted the markings running in a spiral around the pommel. Not only could she not read them, but the bones from the man’s fingers and hands blocked her from seeing the rest of the markings.
She itched to move the corpse’s fingers and inspect the sword more closely, but Sonya would never desecrate the dead in such a way.
Sonya blew out a breath and began to straighten when something else caught her eye.
It was the barest wink of light off gold, but Sonya saw it nonetheless. She gently, tenderly peeled back the ragged neckline of the man’s tunic to better see what was around his neck.
Her lungs locked when she saw the amulet and the double spiral in the gold. The double spiral represented the equinoxes, when day and night were of equal length.
Sonya traced her finger from the middle of one spiral until it curved out and then the other way to the middle of the second spiral.
Somehow she knew the amulet was important to the artifacts, important in the war to defeat Deirdre.
Sonya knew she had to take the amulet and even though she didn’t want to disturb the dead, lives were at stake. She lifted the leather strap that held the amulet and cut it with a dagger she had found among the many weapons. She held up the amulet to the light and couldn’t stop staring at the oblong shape of the metal and the spirals within.
“If I’m not meant to take this, then I will return it,” she told the corpse. “If it is supposed to be used along with one of the artifacts, then I pledge that I will keep it safe until such time. Just as you have.”
The torches flickered, and if Sonya didn’t know better, she would have thought the spirit of the dead leader had given his consent.
* * *
Isla stood in the village near MacLeod Castle and stared into the forest before her. It had been Ramsey who first drew her attention when she found him looking toward the woods. He had stood at the trees and gazed at them for hours until she had to know what he saw.
It wasn’t until she neared Ramsey that she noticed the trees were bending the opposite way from the breeze off the sea.
“What is it?” asked a deep voice that always melted her heart.
She waited until Hayden was next to her before she intertwined her fingers with his and nodded to the forest. “Watch.”
“They’re trees, Isla. They do move with the wind.”
She loved her Warrior, but sometimes he didn’t always see the things magic could do. “Look at them, Hayden. Look at the way they bend, at how they move.”
“God’s teeth,” he murmured after a moment. “Is that what holds Ramsey’s attention?”
“I believe so.”
“Are they trying to talk to Sonya?”
Isla licked her lips and shrugged. “I think they are trying to tell us something. The only one who can hear the trees, however, is Sonya.”
Of a sudden the trees stopped moving.
Hayden cursed and released her hand. “I need to get the others.”
Isla didn’t take her eyes off the forest. She would bet all the magic inside her that the trees knew where Sonya was, that they were trying to tell those at the castle where to find her.
It took no time at all for the other Warriors to race toward the village.
“What did you discover?” Quinn, the youngest MacLeod, demanded as he skidded to a stop beside her, the first to reach them.
Ramsey turned his head of black hair and locked gazes with Isla. He walked to her, his jaw clenched and lines of worry bracketing his eyes and lips.
“Can you hear them?” Ramsey asked Isla.
She slowly shook her head. “I cannot.”
“But you saw? You saw what they did?”
“I did.”
Quinn blew out a harsh breath. “Would someone please tell me?”
“Tell all of us,” Lucan said as he walked up with Fallon and the other eight Warriors, including Larena.
“It’s the trees,” Ramsey said, his silver eyes intent.
Isla nodded. “I think they are trying to talk.”
“To Sonya?” Quinn asked.
“Nay,” Isla said. “To us. I think they are trying to tell us where Sonya and Broc are.”
“And if they’re in trouble,” Ramsey added.
Lucan’s brow furrowed in thought, but it was Fallon who said, “They are no’ moving now. How long do you think they were trying to talk?”
“About an hour,” Isla said.
Ramsey nodded and glanced at the sky.
She knew he was anxious for Broc to return. They were all worried about Broc and Sonya.
Isla looked to the trees, waiting and hoping they would try again. She wasn’t surprised when they bent toward them, against the wind just as before.
“Holy Hell,” Quinn muttered.
Then the trees swung to the right. They repeated the movements over and over again.
“They’re telling you which direction to go in,” Isla said. “Go. Now.”
The Warriors were readying to leave when a huge shadow flew over them. There was a cry of relief when everyone spotted Broc, but the joy vanished when they caught sight of his empty arms.
* * *
Broc circled back when he spotted the Warriors in the village. He had no sooner landed before Ramsey was before him. Ramsey’s silver eyes searched his.
“What do you need?” Ramsey asked.
Broc looked at the faces of the Warriors around him and drew in a deep breath. “I had to leave Sonya. Deirdre cannot get to her, but I need to return. Immediately.”
“What happened?” Hayden, the tallest of the Warriors, asked in his usual forceful manner.
Broc ran a hand down his face and glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps behind him. He should have known the Druids would want to know about Sonya.
He had vowed to bring her home. And he would.
“Broc.”
He turned his head when he heard Isla’s voice. He could barely look into her ice blue eyes so filled with worry. If they had known about the curse, they wouldn’t have let him go after Sonya. Nor should he have.
If she died …
“Deirdre was after a second artifact, one which she said I could get to but she could no’,” he explained.
“Where is Sonya?” Marcail asked, her turquoise eyes filling with tears.
Broc looked down at his hands and saw the claws and indigo skin of his Warrior form. He had thought as a Warrior he would always be able to protect Sonya, but he had been wrong.
“I found Sonya wounded and about to be attacked by a wolf. There was a storm, and I had no wish to fly with the possibility that she might be hit with lightning. I brought her to a nearby village to heal.”
“Sonya was wounded?” Isla asked. “But she’s a healer.”
“For some reason she believed her magic had left her. She almost didna survive that first night.”
Cara, Lucan’s wife, put her hand to her throat. “Did her magic leave her?”
“Nay,” Broc said. “I always felt it. I was trying to convince her to return with me to MacLeod Castle when I spotted the wyrran. I made the mistake of thinking they had discovered her because of her magic. Instead, they came for me.”
Camdyn frowned. “Why you?”
“As I said, Deirdre was after a second artifact. It was locked in a Celtic burial mound that was protected by spells. Neither she nor any of her wyrran could get inside.”
Broc looked to the MacLeod brothers who stood together. “She also told me of her plan to capture all of the Warriors here and turn them to her side by killing us, then reviving us until the evil took over.”
Fallon blew out a breath. “We all knew she would be furious.”
“There’s more,” Broc said. “She plans on killing you and Lucan so that only Quinn houses your god. She will turn him as she plans the rest of us, and then together have the child which was prophesied.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone took in his words.
“I was captured by Deirdre, and though I told Sonya she should return here, she followed the wyrran back to Cairn Toul,” Broc continued.
Larena smiled wryly. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Nor me,” Reaghan said.
“How did you get free?” Arran asked.
Broc shifted feet, eager to return to Sonya. “Deirdre had used drough blood to subdue me and keep me in great pain. My god became … resistant … to the effects of the blood and grew enraged. I recalled the spell Deirdre used to unlock doors, and I used it to release my shackles.”
“Where were you in the mountain?” Isla asked.
Broc turned his gaze to her. “Where she held Phelan.”
Isla’s eyes dropped to the ground.
“I attacked Deirdre and was about to kill her when Dunmore came down the stairs shouting how he had a Druid who had come to rescue me.” Broc paused as he recalled the joy—and terror—of knowing Sonya was inside the mountain. “I beheaded Deirdre and killed Dunmore.”
“Thank God,” Marcail murmured.
“I found Sonya and we left. I knew Deirdre would go after the artifact, and since I had gotten her to tell me the details, Sonya and I decided to look for it ourselves.”
Ramsey grinned then. “You found it.”
“We did,” Broc agreed. “It was Sonya’s magic which helped me get past the spells upon the tomb. The magic surrounding the tomb seemed to make Sonya’s magic stronger. We had just gotten into the tomb when Deirdre arrived. I shut Sonya inside so Deirdre couldna reach her.”
Quinn looked at his brothers and rubbed his jaw. “If Deirdre has left her mountain, she is more than determined. We need to be careful.”
“How long can Sonya stay in the tomb?” Duncan asked.
Broc shifted his shoulders, his wings ready to stretch out and feel the wind beneath them. “No’ long. I want to return for her straightaway.”
Galen stepped forward then, his skin turning the dark green of his Warrior. “You will need me.”
Broc knew how much it pained Galen to touch anyone. With the simplest touch Galen could see inside someone’s mind. The only person he could touch without his power intruding was his woman, Reaghan—the first artifact.
“Come,” Galen bade Broc with a smile. “I have control over my power now, and Sonya needs you.”
Broc stepped near Galen the same time Fallon did. They would need Fallon’s power to jump them from the castle to the tomb in less than a blink. Since Fallon couldn’t jump somewhere he had never been, they were using Galen as a conduit.
Fallon gave a nod to Broc and took the black skin of his god.
“Think of the tomb, of exactly where it’s at,” Galen told Broc.
Broc pictured the outside of the tomb and kept the image in his mind as Galen laid his hand upon his head. In the next instant Broc, Galen, and Fallon were standing outside the tomb.
There was no evidence of wyrran. No sign of Deirdre.
Broc was instantly on guard.
“Broc,” Fallon whispered as the three of them backed together.
Broc bent his legs, ready to fight whatever came at him. “I have no idea.”
“It appears as though Deirdre is gone,” Galen said.
“Doona underestimate her,” Broc said. “She wants this artifact. She’s already lost Reaghan. She has no intention of losing what she thinks is the second artifact.”
Fallon glanced at Broc. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’ve damaged the one thing Deirdre could have gotten information from in the tomb.”
Galen chuckled and shook his head with a wry smile. “Verra smart of you.”
“I think Deirdre is gone,” Fallon said.
Broc agreed, but he wasn’t sure they were alone. He raced into the burial mound and stopped at the door. Fallon and Galen were right behind him. They hissed in a breath as the magic surrounded them.
“Doona fight it,” Broc said. “It has the power to kill you where you stand.”
A moment later the magic faded from them. Broc pounded on the door. “Sonya! Sonya, can you hear me?”
“Broc?”
He dropped his head to the stone and smiled as his heart rejoiced at hearing her voice. “I’m here. So are Fallon and Galen. We’re going to get you out.”
Broc gripped the stone and began to pull. When nothing happened, Galen and Fallon soon joined him. But even their combined Warrior strength could not budge the rock.
“It was Sonya who somehow got it to open before,” Broc said as he put his hand over the markings.
Fallon scratched his jaw and eyed the massive stone door. “And she’s inside.”
Broc leaned close to the door. “Sonya, I need your help to open the door.”
Sonya wiped the sweat that beaded her forehead and raised her brows as Broc’s voice reached her. How could she open the door? She was on the inside.
Then she recalled that she had used her magic on the markings. She walked to the door and looked for more Gaelic writing, but there was nothing.
Sonya ran her finger over and over the spirals on the amulet. “I just want out of here,” she whispered.
There was a loud pop as the stone door began to open. Sonya looked back at the tomb once more before she walked toward the doorway. As soon as she did, the torches went out.
Sonya caught sight of Broc and ran to him. He wrapped his arms wrapped around her as a slight boom sounded, signaling the door had closed again.
“I told you I would return,” he said.
Sonya put her lips on his for a short kiss. “I never doubted you.”
* * *
Phelan didn’t know why he helped the indigo Warrior. Maybe it was the fact that he had fought the wyrran and argued with Deirdre. Broc, his name was. Whatever Broc and his Druid had been searching for, Deirdre greatly craved it.
Phelan should have left Glencoe as soon as he sensed the Druid with Broc, and he’d been on his way. But something drew him back. He couldn’t name what it was or why it had affected him so. Only that he had to get to Broc.
Now he knew why.
Phelan would never pass up an opportunity to get at Deirdre or her filthy wyrran, even if it meant helping another Druid in the process.
Deirdre had much to atone for in Phelan’s eyes; and not even an eternity of torture could make up for what she had done to him.
He smiled as he watched the wyrran fight the Warriors his power created. Phelan had thought Broc would join in and kill the wyrran, but instead he had flown away.
And where was the Druid who had been with Broc? The last Phelan had seen, they had entered the tomb. Which meant the Druid was inside.
Was Broc leaving her there? If so, it was a fitting punishment, a final torture all Druids deserved.
Phelan chuckled at Deirdre’s outrage as her precious wyrran were being beaten by Warriors she didn’t co
ntrol. There were times Phelan thoroughly enjoyed his power.
Like now.
If only the rest of his life could give him such enjoyment he might be able to put aside the resentment that filled his soul.
Until then, however, he was going to relish hurting Deirdre.
THIRTY
Broc knew he held Sonya too tight, but he couldn’t seem to make his arms loosen their hold. There had been a moment when panic set in and the door wouldn’t budge.
Visions raced through his mind of Sonya suffocating painfully, slowly as he stood outside the tomb.
“We should leave,” Fallon said.
Broc nodded and buried his face in Sonya’s neck.
“Wai—” Sonya said just as Fallon put his hand on Broc’s shoulder.
“—t.”
Broc lifted his head when they arrived at the bailey of MacLeod Castle. Fallon and Galen moved away as Broc looked down at Sonya.
There was sadness and disappointment in her gaze. “There was something I wanted to show you,” she told him.
“Something in the tomb?”
“Aye. There was a sword with the body, a sword with Celtic designs and Gaelic writing.”
Broc glanced at Fallon. “We can always return later. I needed to get you away from the burial mound before Deirdre decided to attack again.”
He wasn’t able to say more as the women surrounded Sonya. Broc stepped back, his gaze never leaving hers. Soon she was swept into the castle. Sonya turned and looked at Broc once more before the castle doors shut behind her.
Broc tamped down his god as he blinked and focused on the Warriors around him. It was Galen’s curious stare which caught his attention.
“What is it?” Broc asked.
Galen lifted a shoulder in a shrug, his blue eyes troubled. “I’m no’ sure. I saw … something … in Sonya’s mind when I touched her on our return.”
“What did you see?” Broc demanded. His heart lurched as he thought of her thinking of another man.
Galen blew out a long breath. “All I saw was spirals. Two spirals, actually. They were connected.”
“The equinox,” Ramsey said.
