Lady of the Mountain

by Lyn Armstrong

  “I do not believe you, swine.” Phillip charged again, knocking Braen’s sword from his hand; it landed in the lower garden. Braen jumped down the small embankment toward his blade, but Phillip stood over the exposed wizard, the tip of his sword at his throat.

  There was only one way Drucilla could stop her father from killing Callum. Taking a deep breath, she tightly squeezed the staff. “Take the enchantment off my father and return his mind to what it once was.”

  Phillip swayed. Confusion crossed his face while disbelief dulled his blue eyes. He lowered the sword and Braen stepped back. “What am I doing here?”

  Her father fixed his gaze on Callum sprawled on the ground, and he dropped his sword and ran to him. “Son, son!” He shook the warlock’s shoulders.

  Braen went to Tremayne and helped him to his feet, while Callum groggily rose with his father’s help.

  Once on his feet, Callum grabbed his father into a tight hug and held him. “I thought I had lost you,” he said.

  Confused, his father rubbed his face and gave him a hearty pat on the back. “I… remember. Everything.” He stared at Drucilla. “I tried to save Gavenia when the sorceress took me. And then, the next thing I remember is accepting Drucilla as my only child, and Torella as my wife.”

  “Oh, Father.” Callum covered his cheek. “Mother will not like this.”

  Phillip walked over to Drucilla, bewilderment and anger shining in his eyes. “Are you really my daughter or was that part of your lies?”

  Drucilla flinched as if he had slapped her. “Torella told me that you were my father. I was born in purgatory almost twenty-five winters ago.”

  “I do remember a dream when…” Phillip’s voice rose in surprise, “That was your mother.”

  Braen asked, “When is your twenty-fifth day?”

  “With the next sunrise.” She lowered her head, tears tumbling down. It was over. She had no fight left in her. “You are all free to leave. I will not stop you.” She looked Braen in the eyes and held out the rod. “Here is Merlin’s staff.”

  The moment he touched the staff the palace behind disappeared along with the waterfall and lush gardens. The only light was from the fire sconces the men brought with them and the ethereal glow of the rod.

  “What happened?” Braen asked.

  “My palace was created from Merlin’s staff. It now belongs to you, so my spell has vanished.” Drucilla sat on a boulder. “Please, you must go before my mother returns.”

  “Come with us,” her father said.

  “I cannot leave the mountain. If I do, I will die,” she answered and lowered her head into her hands. She had lost. She expected the wizard to crow, to gloat about how he was the master of the staff. That was what her mother would have done. Instead, he sat beside her and nudged her over to give him more space.

  “I am not leaving you here,” Braen said and shoved the staff back into Drucilla’s hands. The palace reappeared, and he stared at its magnificence. “Do not misunderstand, I will take Merlin’s staff with me when I go, but I will stay until you no longer have need of me.”

  “Well that’s just fine,” Tremayne said. “We have Phillip so let us return to Gleich Castle.”

  “Nae,” Phillip said. “I am staying with Drucilla. If the sorceress is coming back, then I will face her standing side by side with my daughter.”

  Tears watered her eyes as her father offered his hand for her to rise. He opened his arms, and she flew into them. “Please forgive me, Father. I just wanted to know you.”

  “Shh, I understand,” he replied, rubbing her back with comforting hands.

  She looked at Callum from over her father’s shoulder; a broad smile lightened his face. “I guess if my father can forgive you, then so can I.” He opened his arms and hugged from behind her. “Welcome to the Roberts clan.”

  Tremayne stood outside the family circle, a dark scowl on his face.

  They broke apart and Callum put his arms around his father’s shoulders and walked him toward the palace. “Allow me to explain everything that has happened in your absence. For instance, Gavenia had a wee bonny lass.”

  Callum’s voice drifted off into the distance while Drucilla faced her older brother.

  “A Campbell?” her father’s high voice echoed back to them and Tremayne grinned.

  She studied his dark features that were so much like her own. She could feel his suppressed rage, the same dark energy that lay within all sorcerers.

  “I am sorry for tipping you off your horse, and the wolves, and the—”

  He held his hand up. “I know. Mother can make you resort to foolish acts of violence.” Tremayne inhaled a deep breath and released it. “I am sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For having to live with her as your only source of human contact.” He stepped closer. “I know what that is like.” He lowered his head and fumbled with the edge of his black tunic. “I never had a sister before.”

  “I am new to it as well.”

  Slowly, he opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace, a cry of relief escaping her lips.

  “I only wish I could remember the ritual,” he said sadly.

  Her head jerked up. “What ritual?”

  “The ritual that can save your soul come the morrow.” He studied her face. “Mother did not tell you?”

  “Nae, she did not.”

  He shook his head. “I am not astonished. I cheated the curse with knowledge.”

  “This ritual, where did you find it?”

  “In the book of Dark Magick.”

  Excitement leaped into her heart. “I saw Mother lock that book in a chest in her chamber.”

  “Let us retrieve it then.” Tremayne raced up the stairs toward the entrance.

  Drucilla scanned the gardens for Braen, but could not find him. Would he leave without saying goodbye?

  “Come on, sis.” Tremayne waved at her from the doorway and she smiled. Sis, no one had ever called her that before. She liked it.

  Arm in arm, they walked into the palace. Phillip and Callum were nowhere to be found as they walked the extended halls toward Torella’s chamber.

  “The door is magically locked,” she said.

  Tremayne smiled and grabbed her hand. Together they transported into the chamber, she picked up the chest, and they transported back out. They returned to the main stairway, and she placed the box on a step. They used their magic to try to open it, but it only bounced the chest against the stairs.

  Tremayne tried to pry it open with his sword, but to no avail. It was sealed shut.

  Phillip and Callum rounded the corner, dirt smudges on their clothes. “Where have you been?” asked Tremayne.

  Phillip placed his arm around Drucilla. “I am sorry, my daughter. But, we were outside burying Silas.”

  A knife sliced through her heart as she remembered her friend. “I am so terrible. Here I am concerned with my mother’s book when my dear friend is dead.”

  “Silas would have wanted you to find a way to live,” Phillip said. “Callum told me of the curse.” He sat next to the chest. “Does this book you seek have the answers?”

  “Aye,” Tremayne replied. “And this strongbox will not open.”

  Callum and Phillip tried to pry it open, but nothing they did shifted the lid.

  “What are we going to do?” Drucilla asked.

  “Step aside.”

  Drucilla’s heart leaped at the sound of Braen’s voice. Her head jerk around to watch him walk boldly into the group. As he passed, he winked at her, softening his granite face.

  “Do you have Merlin’s staff?”

  She nodded her head and passed him the rod. He did not touch it, instead pulling her closer into his arms. His strong hand snaked around her waist while his other hand ran down the length of her arm, causing a trail of sensual heat upon her skin. He guided her wrist so the tip of the staff touched the chest. The warmth of his body seeped into her back while the tangy masculine scent of him invaded h
er senses, sending tingles to the pit of her stomach.

  “With the power of Merlin’s blood, I command this chest to open,” he whispered near her ear like a lover’s kiss.

  The lid glowed with a silver light, releasing a burnt metallic smell.

  Callum opened the lid.

  The chest was empty.

  If Braen were not holding her close, she would have collapsed.

  “Torella must have taken it,” Tremayne said.

  They all turned her way with sorrow and regret on their faces. She turned in Braen’s arms and tears tumbled unashamedly down her cheeks. He held her head against his chest, the strength of his arms soothing her fears.

  He kissed her moist cheek. “Anything is possible. Do not give up hope.”

  With a breath caught in her lungs, she looked up at his shining eyes. “You are right. Anything is possible. When I needed a scrying bowl, I asked the staff to provide the exact one my mother used.”

  “Could you do the same for the book?” he asked.

  “Maybe.” Standing the staff on the ground, she inhaled. “I seek the book of Dark Magick.”

  Floating in midair, a thick ancient book appeared with golden words Dark Magick scribed on the front. Drucilla plucked the book from the air and it weighed heavily in her hands. “Tremayne, could you help me find the ritual?”

  He smiled and nodded, then gave Braen an odd look.

  Drucilla glanced at Braen curiously, but he avoided her gaze. Was there something she was missing?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Braen felt the weight of Tremayne’s stare. He knew what the sorcerer was thinking. For the ritual to work, he had to be in love with Drucilla.

  Love.

  Love was for the likes of the other men in the room. Did he not see first hand how Callum’s wife controlled him at the inn, and Tremayne resisted this expedition to the mountain, yet his wife convinced him with just the bat of her eyelashes?

  The whole reason for his quest—to be a legendary wizard and break the ill fortune cast upon his family—stood within reach, and yet he did not take it, all because of a beautiful woman. He must be mad.

  He certainly had no right to judge his father. He had become what he most feared. A woman controlled his destiny, literally held it within her hands. Braen stared down at the top of Drucilla’s head. She sat on the stairs with her brothers on either side, flicking through the yellowed pages of the old book. Her silky raven hair fell forward, and she tucked the strand behind her ear, exposing the soft curve of her neck.

  His chest ached with torn emotions. Aye, he hated to feel controlled. But, how could he leave her? She needed him, even if she did not know it.

  However, she also needed someone to love her, and he just did not know whether he could feel that for anyone. Sure, he was attracted to her, and the mere nearness of her made his heart race with fever, but was that enough to call love?

  “Braen, it is already afternoon. We do not have much time,” Tremayne said, interrupting his thoughts. “We have found the ritual and will perform it in the solar.”

  Drucilla gracefully rose to her feet and stared at him, fear glistened in her eyes. He gave her a confident smile that he did not feel. Holding out his hand, she entwined her fingers with his.

  He hoped what he felt for her was enough.

  They entered a spacious chamber with no furnishings. Braen was amazed at the beauty of the room with glass surrounding the walls, an unknown source of light streamed into the chamber, bathing Drucilla in her yellow gown with the glow of an angel.

  A blade was shoved before him, blocking his vision of the sorceress.

  He frowned. “What is this for?”

  Callum answered as he gave Drucilla a long sword. “You will need to draw blood for the ritual.”

  Tremayne placed his hand on Braen’s shoulder and shielded him away from Drucilla overhearing them. “I do not know what you feel for my sister, but we will not chance our only ritual. All the men will step into the circle and sacrifice their blood for her.”

  Braen nodded and they all gathered in the middle of the chamber.

  Drucilla held the book along with a sword that seemed too heavy for her. She looked so small and vulnerable, he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But, comfort was not what she needed right now. She needed to live beyond the next day.

  “Let us begin,” Tremayne said.

  Drucilla nodded and stared at Braen. Then she clutched the open book to her chest and awkwardly used the tip of the blade to slice her hand. Blood oozed over the sword as she scrunched her nose. She faced east and then ran the sword’s tip along the floor in a circle, encasing them in the ring.

  She dropped the sword and took a deep breath. Opening the book she read in a loud voice, “Be this the day before my birth. I, Drucilla Campbell Roberts offer my blood as a blessing to the Gods. I pray you redeem my sorceress’ heritage with my mortal father’s ancestry. In the name of Laird Phillip Roberts, I seek redemption.”

  She glanced at her father, and he beamed with pride.

  Tremayne said, “Gather around Drucilla in a circle and do the same.”

  One by one, they took their daggers and sliced their hands until blood dripped within the ring on the floor.

  “Do as I do,” Tremayne continued. “Hear me now, oh great Gods. I am Laird Tremayne Campbell. I share my enchanted blood with my sister’s.” He stepped forward and grasped Drucilla’s bloody hand, mingling their blood. “Release her soul from this curse.”

  He gave her a firm nod and stepped back.

  Then Callum did the same and kissed her cheek.

  Her father repeated the steps and hugged her.

  Braen was the last, his heart thrummed loudly in his chest. “Hear me now, oh great Gods. I am Braen Ambrosius, son of Merlin. I share my enchanted blood with my… beloved.” He heard the gasp come from Drucilla, and he captured her gaze. He grasped her hand, and the warmth of her blood smeared with his own and kissed the back of her hand. “Release her soul from this curse.”

  Tremayne and Callum quickly stepped back as if expecting a lightening bolt to strike them. But nothing happened.

  “Was it successful?” Drucilla asked, scanning their faces.

  “I was expecting at least a green light or something,” Callum answered.

  “It did not work,” Tremayne answered in a flat voice.

  Drucilla’s bottom lip trembled, but she held back her emotions and ran out of the chamber. Phillip went to go after her when Callum held him back. “Let her go.”

  Braen faced them all. “I am not letting her go,” he said, daring them to challenge him. When they did not, he turned and chased after her.

  He took the stairs two at a time, following her to the second level. Once he got to the landing, he looked both ways. A door closed at the end of the hallway. He ran to it and knocked gently, when he heard no reply, he opened it and went into a spacious chamber, larger than any he had seen before. Colorful rugs lay upon the floor while bolts of many materials surrounded a wooden spinning wheel. A wide bed sat to the other side of the chamber, pink curtains fluttered in the breeze from arched windows, shadowing the slim form lying on the bed.

  So this was her room where she dreamed of him. Seeing the gentleness and color of the chamber, he saw into the heart, to the lass beneath the outer bravado.

  He pushed aside the sheer curtain. She lay on her stomach, her shoulders shaking from crying into the pillow. He sat next to her and ran his hand over her smooth black hair.

  “You called yourself evil once,” he said and she stopped crying but did not look up. “But it is not true. Your father’s pure blood surrounds your sweet soul.”

  He shuffled on the bed to lie beside her and pulled her chin tenderly for her to face him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder. “’Tis a soul worth saving.”

  “There is no use,” she sniffed.

  “I will find a way. This I pledge to you.”

  �
��What about… about all those horrible things I did to you,” she asked, her voice caught on a sob.

  He chuckled softly while staring into her watery green eyes. Her nose was red and her cheeks puffy, she looked adorable. “I enjoyed the sharp banter and the challenge. You certainly had me intrigued with every ploy.”

  She laughed. Her sweet smile returned and Braen could have leapt with joy.

  “Your face looked so comical after I kicked you in the tub,” she giggled.

  “Hmm, I still owe you for that.” He winked with a smile.

  She remained silent in his arms, her face falling into seriousness. “Make love to me.” When he did not respond she added, “If this be my last day, then I want to remember what it is like to feel you inside me.”

  He placed a provocative kiss upon her soft lips. A warm floral scent surrounded him, arousing him while he eased his body closer to hers.

  He stared into her emerald eyes and palmed her soft cheek. An abnormal cool breeze washed over her body, and he snatched his hand away, alert to the change in her. “Your eyes have turned black.”

  She nodded. “Do not be afraid. When we are excited, I gain sexual power from your aura.”

  “Is this the evil side of a sorceress?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Does my energy bring you extra pleasure?”

  “For certain.”

  “Then I am happy to oblige.”

  Drucilla’s shoulders relaxed, and she released a breath as if she worried about what he thought. He shook his head and captured her mouth. She was a distraction, a hunger that he could not satisfy, and in this moment, he would grant her anything.

  Drucilla pushed all her insecurities and thoughts of the morrow out of her head as she allowed raw instincts to take over, inducing a mindless passion she longed for. With her energy empowering the enchanted garment she wore, the laces unwound as if they felt her eagerness to be unclothed.

  Braen propped up on one elbow and watched. “Are you doing that?”

  “In a sense—my gown uses what I feel and reacts on its own accord.”

  Shock and intrigue registered on his comely face. He smiled and allowed her gown to completely strip itself from her body. She shifted to the side and pulled the material out from under her, then slipped out of her soft shoes, throwing them over the edge of the bed.