Born of Mist and Legend (Highland Legends Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  With mastery, he replied.

  Pine.

  Alder.

  Oak. She named each as she identified her target, then became one with the tree, even as she flew right through it.

  Pine.

  Chestnut.

  Yew.

  Some…tree I doona know.

  Yet all the while, a heavy sense of forebodin’ churned in her gut.

  Part of it came from her vision, and trepidation of what she’d find once they arrived.

  But another part? Vibrated through to her from Skorpius.

  He’d insisted that she remained focused? Not to worry?

  Focus yourself, angel mine, she arrowed out toward him.

  They’d bonded, connected, become one in ways she’d never imagined a soul could with another. And because of that newly forged tie, she felt a kernel of her male’s essence within her. And knew that he’d become troubled.

  Deep concern for his well-being vibrated through her.

  The solid bark of a pine’s trunk loomed.

  Her relaxed state faltered.

  And she fully solidified.

  Och! Arms flailing as she hurtled through the air, she veered wide to fly over open ground.

  Focus!

  I’m focusin’!

  On yourself. Not me.

  You sensed me worryin’ about you? She half-dematerialized again. Then ghosted through another pine. Another alder.

  I’m trying not to worry about you.

  Needing a break from all the focus, she slowed her pace, then solidified and alighted onto her feet in a trot. Then she strode toward a road she’d spotted. Running along the forest edge, protected from the prevailin’ winds, and mostly dry from exposure of a full day of sun, it was easily navigable by foot. “How ’bout we walk awhile?”

  Once she broke out onto the road, Skorpius materialized beside her. They walked side by side for dozens of yards while she calmed her poundin’ heart.

  “Talk to me.” She needed a distraction only he could provide.

  Silent seconds passed before he spoke. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

  Warmth at the personal quality of his inquiry made her smile.

  The wide roadway broke away from the forest, then veered inland.

  But Brigid continued along a steeper rocky footpath, a more direct route toward where her inner pull led her. And she dematerialized again, then raced as fast as she could over the open terrain, no longer at risk to smack into a solid tree trunk.

  Some wee thing? Or one of greater import? To challenge herself with her newfound skill, she traced above every bend and curve in the zigzaggin’ trail.

  Skorpius raced beside her, but over the snowier open meadow. Both.

  She searched through the memories of her ordinary life. I doona only have a love for trees. I’m fond of all plants.

  I knew that. You’d zeroed in on dandelions and other weeds to refuel.

  Apothecaries have that knowledge, yet doona need a fondness for their craft to master it.

  You’re no apothecary.

  And he’d been more observant of her than she realized.

  Hmmm…

  Brigid scanned through the events of her life yet again. She’d developed a passion for readin’, but with the discovery of his journal—a part of his life she’d no desire to remind him of—he knew that as well.

  I love music. And love to dance even more. Ever since she’d been a child. Blood racin’, feet stompin’, twirlin’ about the floor, the delightful moments of revelry had drawn her out of her lonely life and spun her right into the heart of the celebration. Her clan had surrounded her, gaily acceptin’ her with them. ’Tis a time when warfare and troubles and grief and loss are—

  —forgotten.

  Aye.

  She dinna ask how he knew, for she found it hard to imagine angels singin’ and dancin’. And again, she refused to broach his past. Vowed to keep him in his present.

  I know you, goddess mine. Tone low and gentle, he answered her unspoken question.

  Needin’ connection with him, even in their half-energy state, she veered away from the ragged path and flowed over snow turned purplish gray in the gloamin’ hour. She brushed her golden magick out to the side, weavin’ it together with the glitterin’ bluish black edges of his.

  And I’m ever blessed for it.

  He glanced toward her, blue-green eyes sparkin’ in the increasin’ darkness. Then he flared out his magick, brushin’ her senses with warm affection.

  Tell me something else.

  Of greater import. Easy. Perhaps the one thing left he dinna know. I’ve only one true friend in the world. And she’s only just found me.

  Isobel.

  She swallowed hard. Aye. Yet now, I’ve found another.

  Skorpius brushed up against her with his magick, harder this time, and somehow the force knocked her back into solid form.

  She found herself twirlin’ upright in the air, wrapped in the solid strength of his arms, enfolded in the dark softness of his wings.

  Tantalizin’ lips brushed over hers as their feet touched ground at the crest of the footpath. “More than a friend,” he murmured against her lips.

  “Aye.” She smiled. “Guardian. Protector. Lover.”

  He stared down at her, gaze hardenin’ further. “More, even than that.”

  Brigid swallowed, throat crampin’ from emotion. About to ask what he’d meant, sounds drifted to her ears. A rhythmic sound. Drums? And strains of a liltin’ melody. From a lyre?

  A cold north wind blew, carryin’ the strains of a celebration, crisp and clear.

  She glanced over her shoulder, toward a smudge of tree line due east.

  “Have I manifested music?”

  After a goodly march inland, as they followed the clear rhythm into the darkenin’ night, they came upon the source of the sound.

  With a tinglin’ brush of magick, she alighted up onto a wide branch within an old-growth tree to spy on the celebration over a castle’s curtain wall. In a thrice, Skorpius pressed against her side, the warm strength of his arm and wing draped around her shoulder.

  Mesmerized by the revelry, she stared in silence as she took in the delightful scene.

  Barn doors had been thrown wide.

  A great bonfire blazed, orange flames lickin’ up toward the sky.

  Musicians played a tune while lads and lasses twirled.

  Nigh two hundred Scots of all ages sprawled over the wide meadow between the barn the stone curtain wall below them. Wee ones toddled as they clutched a parent’s hands. Two elder men sat on wooden stools, spinnin’ tales to those who’d gathered near and leaned close, eager to hear.

  Brigid gazed down at a world that seemed farther away than ever before. She sighed heavily, heart achin’. “Will I ever dance again?”

  Skorpius gazed down at her. “Do you want to?”

  She stared up into his beautiful eyes. They’d changed a wee bit. Sparklin’ their normal blue-green with an inner glow against the darkness, they also appeared to spark with a different hue, like a flamin’ sunset. At first, she’d thought it a reflection from the fire. But ’twas more than the orange of a flame. A tiny burst of scarlet flashed, then vanished.

  After a heavy blink to clear her eyesight, his eyes shifted back their normal blue-green again. Then she reminded herself that while Skorpius had slept for four hours after their strenuous lovemakin’, she had not. She hadn’t eaten a bite either.

  “Aye. Someday, I’d like to.”

  Not anytime soon, though.

  Matters of greater import called her to duty. Begged her attention to defend their land, their verra world, from whatever hunted her power. For their threat sought to destroy all. Over the last days, she’d come to understand just how devastatin’ the danger could be.

  “Then we shall dance.” Skorpius’s fierce gaze held hers. “I promise you that.”

  The music ended. And shouts echoed into the night.

  All c
rowded closer toward the open barn.

  And in the bright glow of the bonfire, they were able to see the cause of the celebration.

  Swaddled in blankets, a wee bairn was lifted high into the air by its proud da for all to see. ’Twas indeed a fine cause for celebration. The reason all her kinfolk toil in the gardens and fight in the forests. Defendin’ their lands and protectin’ their homes. For the loved ones brought up within’.

  A strength rose up her spine.

  The quiet depths of her loch warmed, bubblin’ magick up.

  And a clarity sharpened her mind, steeled her heart.

  With the determination of the warrior she’d become, she stared up at her guardian, her protector, her lover—her more than a friend.

  “Aye, angel mine.” Brigid gave him a tender kiss, clasped his hand, then leapt from the tree and burst out into the night as she dematerialized, mistin’ off toward the north.

  First, we fight. For she felt a battle brewin’, straight to her bones. Then, we’ll dance.

  Chapter 34

  Skorpius let Brigid lead him away through the night.

  For the first time in millennia, he relaxed into the ether.

  And enjoyed himself.

  Of course, he still kept an awareness on the dual tethers. Both hummed, but quietly.

  He still burst a flare of magick outward, in threat assessment. Yet got no alert back.

  Skorpius privately questioned her method of transport. If Brigid had received a strong enough connection through the vision, she’d likely be able to flash directly there, in both time and place.

  But with the dual tethers’ agreement with her chosen course of action, he didn’t even mention the possibility. His interference could be a hindrance.

  Her vision? Her call.

  And they’d arrive at their destination soon enough. Face the destruction they’d witnessed. Carryout their directives: her calling, his mission.

  Instead, for the time being, he marveled at her impressive skill at “mistin’” through the ether. Even though they’d gone incorporeal, their energies remained connected by their mutual wish. But not just by their wish alone. By the new bond they’d created—heart to heart.

  Skorpius had never before been tied to another. Not at an elemental level.

  But instead of bucking the unique tie to another being, he welcomed it.

  After being outcast by his kind, belonging to another—to his fierce yet kindhearted Brigid—filled him with an unusual warmth.

  And as they traveled over the landscape, she flew faster than the leading edge of a storm front. But she kept them close to the ground. And, as she was their guide, he deferred to her preference. Since he’d not had firsthand experience with a deity who received visions, it seemed the wisest course.

  Besides, the strength of her magick continued to grow at a remarkable pace. And the tethers of his mission appeared satisfied with the course.

  Pine. Alder. Rowan. Soft-spoken mental identifiers from a female who loved her trees.

  Chestnut, he added, enjoying their game. And learning something he’d never cared to pay attention to before: tree botany.

  Warm amusement glittered from her essence.

  They focused on their flight, and the tree-identifying to magnify their focus even further. Away from the direness of the situation.

  But after a time, they just flew in companionable silence.

  As the sun rose over the mountain peaks in the east, a heavier vibration rippled from her.

  What are you thinking about?

  What awaits us. She slowed their flight, veered them inland into thicker forest, then hovered over a game trail where she materialized. “We’re approachin’ the village.”

  The village from the vision. He solidified beside her. “How does it feel?”

  She let out a long sigh, then glanced up at him. “Sadness. Anguish. Fear. And…”—silver sparked in her mercurial gaze—“death.”

  The heavy vibration he’d detected could have come from Brigid, or the filtered emotions from her vision.

  Rather than continue on their original course, she wandered toward the edge of a sunny glade, where light swathed a diverse patch of wildflowers and weeds. Miraculously, the blooming plants flourished there in the dead of winter. As if the universe had manifested them just for her. Or she’d conjured them there. Even though he’d sensed no outreach of her magick.

  Either she’d become excellent at masking her abilities or her connection with the elements had transcended her newly developed powers, had become second nature.

  Yet like the first time when she’d run low on energy, Brigid began scooping up flower heads and plucking leaves, stuffing them into her mouth.

  Skorpius fought a smile at her innate actions. Then he snuck out a stealth burst of his own magick to nourish the unusual patch. And the flowering plants multiplied in seconds.

  Brigid squealed in delight at the display, then gathered up a wide variety flowers and herbs.

  Still, he had to tease her. “What? No feast? No roast pig or stuffed swan?”

  Clutching a large bouquet in each fist, she glanced toward him. “Nay. Plants give me greater—” She stared down at her harvest, then at the patch he’d enhanced.

  Narrowing her eyes, she strode toward him while she pointed a fistful of flopping blossoms at him. “You…you knew! You dinna tell me the whole truth of it.”

  “If by ‘knew’ you mean that human food would cease to appeal, then yes. And I won’t tell you something that’s better learned by firsthand experience. I won’t lie to you.” Not anymore. Not as long as his mission didn’t require an omission or subterfuge.

  “Phytonutrients are better fuel.” A simple fact.

  Her accusing glare continued for a few beats, then she turned toward the center of the glade. She stared up at the sun while soaking its radiant heat into her skin. “As is the sun.”

  Indeed. A shimmering glow brightened over her skin within seconds. Her diaphanous gown flickered and sparked at the edges.

  Skorpius, however, stayed back within the thicker forest, out of the draining light.

  But as he stood in the cooling shadows, he detected another change within his body. Like his ability to utilize darkness had altered. Or his need to recharge from it had. Regardless, for the first time, he noticed a clear difference in his makeup. Not bad different. But different all the same. Perhaps the anomaly Orion had discovered had grown stronger. Or Skorpius’s ability to sense it had.

  Brigid spent a few more minutes charging in the direct sunlight, munching her flowers and herbs, then walked toward him.

  She pressed her body up against his, skimmed her warmed fingers up his chest, then pressed her lips to his.

  Skorpius wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with all the tender emotions his fractured heart had finally allowed him to feel. He had no idea how much time they had left together, but if she wanted to take a moment from her quest to celebrate their union, he would do more than oblige. He’d celebrate with her.

  A tug vibrated hard on the timeline tether while they were lost in a sensual kiss.

  At that exact moment, Brigid tensed and pulled back. She searched his eyes, brows furrowed.

  “You felt that?”

  “Aye.” She clasped his hand, then began navigating their way along the game trail.

  Although the trail was wider than most, likely heavily browsed upon by passing deer and elk, most parts were still too narrow to pass through side by side. Still maintaining physical form, and refusing to let go of his hand, she angled ahead at those narrower points while he followed close behind.

  When they broke from thick forest into an open meadow, then walked side by side again, she squeezed his hand and glanced up at him. “Tell me of your birth.”

  Small talk. Distraction from the weight of the impending moment.

  Easy question. But not so simple an answer. “I wasn’t born.”

  That pert freckled nose wrinkled. Her brows twitch
ed down. “You were not born?”

  “No. Angels are created.”

  No point in hiding that fact from her. Very few humans knew of their origins.

  But then, Brigid no longer remained human. Not even close. Not any longer.

  And yet, much of her raw beauty came from a retained innocence.

  Like the slight smile that played at the corner of her peachy-pink lips.

  She paused, released his hand, and took two steps back as she stared at him with incredulity. “You came upon the world…fully fashioned?”

  Fresh curiosity sent her gaze traveling up along the sweep of his wing from tip up to arch, down his chest, over his abs, the waistline of his leather pants, then lower. But when she reached the end of the line, she stared at his deconstructed military boots.

  Skorpius scraped the scuffed toe across the dirt, closer to her.

  She gave a heavy blink, scanned back up his body with a noted pause at his groin, then lifted her lovely face until that mesmerizing silvery gaze met his.

  Sexual tension charged the air.

  Her ivory cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

  With a lazy smirk, he let her off the sexual hook. “Not fully fashioned.” He thumped a thumb against the leather over his thighs. “We do get to dress ourselves.”

  She stepped closer. Rested her hand on his cheek. “Your eyes. The sparks in them?”

  “An effect from magick. Windows into our souls.”

  “Your soul?”

  “Yours too.” He brushed a loose spiral from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear. “Your eyes swirl like molten silver, spark with the fire of your magick. More energy than matter.”

  She gave a heavy blink, then searched his eyes. “Aye. Yours spark too. With new colors.”

  “New colors?” More changes in him. All since he’d been exposed to her.

  “Aye. At first, sapphire and emerald.”

  Normal. “And now?”

  “Their base color’s still blue and green. But the sparks have changed to tiny flashes of sunset: fiery amber and bright scarlet.”

  Interesting.

  Before he had a chance to explore his changes further, Brigid furrowed a brow and turned. “We must go.” Then she sprinted down the path. On foot.