by Hazel Hunter
“You look beautiful in green.”
“I look better out of it,” she replied and clutched him for a long moment. “I love you.”
He touched her cheek before withdrawing with Bhaltair to the midpoint between the altar and the old sacred grove.
Rowan knelt before the stones, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. Above her the scarlet sky churned with malevolent magic as the first words left her lips.
Bhaltair crouched and placed his hands on the frozen soil, his gaze locked on Rowan and the altar.
Something made Taran’s skin crawl, and he looked over at the totems, which remained unmoving. He turned his head to inspect the other side of the clearing, and saw one of the wooden defenders slowly turn his head to glare back at him.
The ground beneath his boots shook as dozens of furrows streaked toward them, and giants began to emerge. Taran drew his sword, but they were surrounded in an instant.
“Our runaways return.” Hendry climbed up out of one of the holes and shook the soil from his robes. “Permit me to perform a proper welcome this time.”
Taran held his sword ready as he stepped between the mad druid and Rowan. “I await you, Greum.”
“You’re attacking me and mine,” Hendry corrected with a broad smile. “My thanks, Skaraven.”
In that moment all of the totems came to life and began to march toward Taran.
Perrin paced along the shore as Lily finished punching the last of the cracks in the ice. “Come on, come on,” she muttered as she pressed her hands to her temples. “Why is this taking so long?”
Strong hands caught her by the waist and pulled her back against a broad chest. “You ken better than to force it,” Kanyth said, lacing his fingers over her waist. “Close your eyes now. Reach out with your mind, as Ruadri told you. Summon the future.”
“My mind only goes one place if you’re kissing my neck,” she warned him before she let her eyelids drop. Releasing a breath, she said. “Okay.”
“Seek Rowan’s fate,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s at the altar, and casting the spell. Do you see her?”
She nodded. The blurry image of her sister started small, like a postage stamp, and then grew larger. “I can see her back. She’s standing up. She’s already got everything arranged, and I think she’s praying or whatever.”
Distant shouts distracted her, until her mate said, “Ignore that. You’re with your sister in the clearing. Can you see Bhaltair and Taran?”
“No, just her.” She felt a strange panic surge through her as Bhaltair suddenly fell at her sister’s feet. “Wait, something’s wrong. The old druid. Ka, someone’s dragging his head back, like– Oh, no. It’s Hendry. I can see him.”
“Dinnae be afraid,” Kanyth said, his voice harder. “Now feel the passage of time. ’Twill take some minutes for the wave to reach the clearing. You must tell Lily when to release it.”
Sweat ran down Perrin’s spine as she focused on her sister. Rowan reached out to the altar, and then drew her hand back quickly, flinching as she did. Her shoulders slumped as if she were exhausted, and then the altar and the objects on it began to shine with glittering white light. Bhaltair staggered to his feet.
“Master Flen’s going to be all right. Rowan did it. I mean, she’s going to do it.” Perrin aligned her sense of time with the vision. When the two connected she opened her eyes and shouted, “Now, Lily, now.”
Kanyth yanked her off her feet and ran up the shore as the ice on the loch began cracking. Perrin looked over his shoulder to see the British woman spreading her arms wide, and the water rising in front of her in a solid wall that towered twenty feet over her.
“Everyone clear?” Lily called without looking behind her.
“Aye, Lily,” Ruadri called back.
Kanyth set Perrin down on her feet, and held her close as the petite blonde below them hurled the wall of water out of the loch. With a giant roar an enormous wave smashed down on the bank. It swelled again as Lily directed more streams from the ice to feed it before it rolled out toward the clearing.
“Time to join the others,” Ruadri said as he led their horses out of the protective grove where they’d left them. “Emeline?”
His wife swung up on her horse. “I’m ready, Ru.” As the shaman mounted as well, she glanced behind her. “Ka?”
“I’ll look after the ladies,” the weapons master assured her.
Ru and Emeline spurred their horses into a quick gallop and were gone.
Perrin ran to Lily, who gratefully accepted her arm as she led her up to the horses. “That was incredible. I didn’t get to see you do that at the waterfall during the great escape, you know. Someone hit me over the head with a rock.”
“And kept you from doing something bloody stupid,” the Brit countered before she regarded Kanyth. “I heard what Emeline said. Should we go after her and Ru?”
He shook his head. “Brennus needs us in place. We’ll ride to the clearing.”
Emeline reined in her mare as she and Ru reached the ruins of the settlement. A young druidess stood staring at the smoldering body of a famhair. The stench of burnt wool made the shaman grimace, but what Emeline felt filled her mind with darting, flashing thoughts so disjointed they broke apart and reformed as quickly as they moved. Slowly she dismounted, but shook her head at her mate when he moved to do the same.
“That young lass is Murdina,” she told him. “She’s in no condition to harm me, but the sight of you might cause her to have another break.”
He glanced at Murdina. “She’s broken bones?”
“Her mind has shattered.” Despite all the evil the mad druidess had done she felt a terrible pity. “Something finally pushed her past all reason. She’s gone completely insane.”
“We should leave her, then, and rejoin the clan,” Ruadri said.
“We have to be sure she goes with the others,” Emeline reminded him. “And she’s Hendry’s one weakness. She’ll be a distraction for him.”
Grimly he nodded. “Hurry.”
Emeline carefully approached the remnants of the fire, and pulled back her hood so that the other woman could see her face.
“Fair day, my lady. Are you finished here?”
“Aye, ’twill burn no more.” She peered at Emeline. “Healer McAra. What do you here?”
“Hendry sent me to find you.” She nodded in the direction of the clearing. “He’s waiting for you with Rowan. She’s finishing the ritual now.”
“The dark lass.” Murdina nodded absently. “But she hasnae yet made the sacrifice. Only death can bring life.” She met Emeline’s gaze. “’Twas the tribe’s secret. ’Twas how came the famhairean. Our totems took the tribe’s souls, and then they ate the Romans.”
Emeline had seen the totems do that during her trip to the distant past. Just a brief glimpse of it had rendered her catatonic for hours. She took in a deep breath until the nausea she felt subsided, and then did her part for the plan.
“Hendry needs you.” She stepped closer, and bracing herself, put a hand on Murdina’s arm. All the madness inside the other woman tried to pour inside her, but with her own love she held most of it back, and wrapped Murdina in true tenderness. “You should go to him now.”
“Aye,” Murdina finally said, her eyes damp and glistening. Slowly she drifted away and began walking toward the forest.
Emeline made it back to Ru and their horses. When she looked up into his gray eyes, and saw the gentle strength there, she felt beyond blessed. The love they shared filled her mind, and washed away the last of the mad druidess’s fractured, frantic emotions.
“Are you ready for what you have to do?” she asked him as he leaned down to help her into her saddle.
“Aye.” He kept hold of her hand. “’Twill be over soon, Wife.”
Often Emeline had wondered if this unbearable conflict would go on forever, but now she felt the same surety.
“Let’s go and finish it, Husband.”
&nbs
p; Chapter Twenty-Seven
AS THE CLEARING shook with the thudding, pounding footsteps of the totems, Rowan kept speaking the words of the solstice spell. She knew Hendry and the giants had surrounded them, and heard Bhaltair’s struggles as he was dragged over to the altar. Taran she could feel even closer, standing just behind her back. She also knew if she stopped the spell then everything they’d done would have been for nothing.
“Exactly so, Sister,” Hendry cooed to her as he shoved the old druid onto his knees. “You’re almost finished.” He bent and grabbed the crock of goat’s blood she’d left at the base of the altar and tossed it aside. “But you cannae appease the Gods with this.” He jerked back Bhaltair’s head, baring his wrinkled throat. “Give them the blood of the most foolish druid in the mortal realm.”
Rowan had to seal the spell with blood. Now that Hendry had taken the crock she had nothing to use. She had only a few more lines to recite before it would be time.
“’Twill be my debt to the clan repaid, Mistress,” Bhaltair gasped out. “Take my blood.”
“You see?” Hendry told her. “He wants to die for you, druidess mine. I’d open his veins for you, but yours must be the hand that spills the blood. Now take that dagger and cut his throat.”
The sound of wood cracking shot through the air, and Rowan glanced up to see the totems beginning to collapse. They hit the ground with such force that most of their limbs and heads snapped off. She saw one that still had an arm and a leg crawling toward her, and shuddered.
“Hendry!” Murdina called and ran to her lover. She tripped over Bhaltair before she flung her arms around Hendry. “Master Flen has come to the ritual.” She tried to kiss Hendry, laughing as he dodged her mouth. “Dinnae be shy, my love. He’s come to perform our mating ceremony.”
Bhaltair got to his feet and staggered toward the portal.
In the distance, Rowan saw Brennus leap from his mount, vaulting forward in a great arc. As he landed, a sword flashed in either hand, chopping off wooden limbs and heads in the thick of the famhairean. Though she couldn’t hear Cadeyrn, he was shouting orders as he waded in after the chieftain. Ruadri and Kanyth flanked them both, weapons clashing with the axes of the giants.
Though Rowan couldn’t see them, she knew that Althea and Lily would be waiting at the edge of the clearing. Emmie and Perr had already played their parts. Now it was her turn. Without hesitation, she drew the dagger and ran it deeply across her hand.
Slowly the drops spattered at the base of the altar as she uttered the last words of the ritual spell. She checked the sky, only to see the same seething crimson.
“Do it already,” she muttered, as she squeezed her hand into a fist.
More blood trickled down, but nothing above changed. She’d done it right. She knew she had but… Her gaze landed on the crock of goat’s blood, now spilled in the clearing.
Does it need to be that much?
She stared at the dagger in her hand.
“Rowan,” Taran called to her as the sound of a hundred mounted riders thundered across the clearing. “You must finish it now.”
All the cacophony around her fell to a hushed murmur, and just his voice ran through her head.
You must finish it now.
Over and over, his voice was like music, like water. He had called to her through time, and time had brought them together. She knew now it would never be the last time. They had transcended time. Their love would outlast it.
Rowan smiled as she repeated the words of the ritual spell. She’d been born for this, for him. They’d come together despite impossible odds. Now she knew something else. She and Taran had been brought together to save this clan, this time, this world. All the others that would grow from it and follow it would be their gift to the universe. Knowing that made the hardest thing she would ever do simple and easy. Very easy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BRENNUS LET OUT a whistle that pierced the din of the warriors and giants fighting. From the forest more Skaraven rode into the clearing, each seizing one of their clansmen and riding back to the edge. When Althea saw Taran disperse all the horses into the woods she signaled to her husband, who whistled a second time.
Ruadri strode into the clearing, removed his tartan, and brought his forearms together in front of him. “Eyes,” he shouted.
All the Skaraven turned their faces away and squeezed their eyes shut as the shaman used his moon power. She felt the cool wave scatter over her but kept her eyelids closed.
“Clear,” Ruadri called.
Althea sighed with relief as she looked at what the shaman had done. The giants tried to follow the Skaraven, but now blinded by Ru’s power they staggered and fell over the bodies of the ruined totems. That was when the enormous wall of water smashed through the clearing. The massive deluge swept over the giants, who became almost instantly immobilized by their rooting feet.
Cadeyrn rode forward with Lilly sitting pillion behind him.
Althea nodded at her. Everything depended on their coordination. The chef nodded back.
“Now,” Brennus ordered.
As Lily directed the flow of the already receding flood, Althea knelt by the nearest stream. With a quick check to see that Rowan and Bhaltair were on dry land, she touched the water’s surface.
The air around her grew bitterly cold as she poured her power into the churning flood. Frosty streaks raced from her fingers through the water, solidifying it into thick gray ice. Everything it touched froze as well, including every giant, Hendry and Murdina.
Their youthful illusions gone now, the mad druidess shrieked and tugged furiously at her ice-encased legs while Hendry closed his sightless eyes and silently moved his lips. Althea shot a quick look at Bhaltair and, to her relief, saw that he had already cast his spell.
Where his palms pressed to the ground, a whirling black circle spread forward and opened under the ice. The air filled with the tortured sound of fracturing frozen water. It buckled inward and down as the vortex beneath it widened. Althea watched as the entire clearing slowly began to revolve. What remained of the wooden totems and the famhairean tilted at impossible angles as their frozen blocks crashed together, circling and tilting toward the center.
Murdina and Hendry swept by, arms flailing in the air, as the first sheets of ice began to drop into the yawning abyss. One by one the giants plunged into the nothingness. The vortex whirled faster, pulling everything toward the center. Althea brushed her windswept hair from her face and instinctively backed away until she felt Brennus’s arm slip around her waist.
Bhaltair’s robes whipped in the rising wind, but he knelt with his hands to the ground, unmoving. The cacophony of screeches from the murderous tribe joined the wailing of the whirling gale. Althea covered her ears but couldn’t take her eyes from the surreal sight.
In one great, final whoosh, the abyss widened only long enough for gravity to do its work, and then it was gone. The clearing was empty.
At the sudden absence of the whirlwind, Althea took a steadying half-step as did every other clan member. The only thing that remained of the abyss was a muddy depression. Up above, the angry red haze was gone. Instead the dusky blue sky of evening stretched over them.
Althea caught her breath as a cascade of amber and red lights rose up above the clearing.
Ruadri and Emeline moved up to join their chieftain and Althea, and the nurse made a low, soft sound of surprise.
“Never tell me the famhairean escaped it,” Brennus said.
“No, Chieftain, ’tis the souls of the Wood Dream tribe,” the shaman said to Brennus. “And those of the Roman soldiers. We saw them being taken by the totems during the massacre.”
“Please don’t ask us to describe that,” his mate added, shuddering.
“They must have been trapped inside the giants all this time,” Althea said. “It would explain why they were so crazy. They had three personalities, and they all killed each other.”
The nurse nodded as she watche
d the lights rise, grow more transparent, and finally disappear. “I’m glad they’ve been set free.”
Brennus turned to face his men, and lifted his fist into the air. “Bràithrean an fhithich.”
Althea felt her heart swell as the Skaraven answered him with the same words, shouted so loudly that they echoed on and on around them. It was their call to arms, Brethren of the raven, but in this moment, it served as their victory cry.
It was finally over, and the Skaraven had won.
But another shout came from the center of the clearing, one that tore through Althea as she saw Taran running toward a swatch of green huddled on a patch of red ground.
“Rowan.”
Taran reached her before the old druid, the horse master’s knees ramming into the sodden earth beside her.
“Rowan,” he said, louder, as he grasped her shoulders. He turned her over to see the dagger fall from her limp, bloodstained hand. “No.”
Her white face looked so peaceful she might have been asleep. But his hand shook as he touched the wound she’d made just below her heart. The blood must have poured from her to pool before the altar, and she’d never made a single sound.
Bhaltair knelt heavily beside him but Taran didn’t look at him. Instead he gently stroked the side of Rowan’s face. Keeping the famhairean from interfering with her and the old druid had required all of his strength and speed. He had not once been able to look behind him to see her.
“Hendry took the goat’s blood from her, lad,” Bhaltair told him. “He wished her to sacrifice me. In the confusion I saw the blood on the ground, but I reckoned she’d taken back the crock. Gods.” He swiped at his eyes. “I couldnae have opened the portal without the spell being sealed. She’s…’twas…a very brave lass.”
Taran felt his clan gathering around him as he held Rowan cradled against his chest. He heard the old druid tell them of what she’d done to assure they would defeat the mad druids and their famhairean. He looked up from her face only when Brennus touched his shoulder.