by Tamara Gill
He still suffered at this moment with broken ribs and with the way his body hung from his wrists it had to be excruciating.
Maybe she shouldn't have changed things, but rather left the original timeline alone.
An image of their first meeting flooded her mind, where she had healed him and something indefinable passed between them. Charity ached for that connection again, for his strength and compassion, even his vulnerability and fear of what might become of his people should he give in.
Once more she saw him as he'd been in the dungeon. Aldreth torturing him with a touch of her fingers while he hung from the gray wall by the bands glowing at his wrists.
Charity started.
This was it. What she needed to see. Edeen had somehow guided her back to this memory. The girl's magical touch was so light, so subtle, she hadn't known Edeen was present or was in fact prodding her to where she needed to go. Amazing talent.
All right then. Let's do this. Charity focused everything she had on the glowing bands. Her vision sharpened, seemed to zoom in on Toren's wrists. The veins at the inside of his wrist that she could see, pulsed blue. His skin was red and swollen. She looked at the thick leather bands, at the blood at the edges where his skin chafed. Anger clenched her stomach. Shaking it off, she moved her attention to the glowing symbols.
Triangles with slashes. Crescent moons facing each other. She couldn't make out the other half of a squiggly line that curved around to the front, hidden next to the gray stone. They needed to see the rest of it.
Aldreth plunged a hand upon Toren's chest. He stiffened. A guttural scream erupted before he choked it off. Charity's sight jerked to his pained face, her heart swelling with compassion for him. Anger at the witch. This wasn’t happening now, she reminded herself. It was only a memory. His memory that she had witnessed. She forced herself to look away and focus on the symbols. His wrist pulled against the band, twisted, veins bulging—
Charity fell forward. Her palms crushed the ground. Edeen had fallen beside her, her breathing labored. Her face seemed translucent, lips pale. She didn't look good at all.
Charity felt the girl's neck for her pulse.
The blanket that served as a door lifted. “I brought—get away from her!”
Crouching his way in, Col shoved a steaming bowl on the ground and lunged for them, pushing Charity aside. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Charity squeaked.
Gone was the baby faced Highlander. In his place was an angry warrior focused entirely on her.
“Peace, Col.” Edeen pushed herself up to lean heavily on her hands. “'Twas my doing. I sought answers through the lass's memories.”
Very gently, Col helped his sister up to lean against him, still keeping a wary eye on Charity, though his countenance softened considerably. “Ye should not have done it without I or Shaw near. Ye know how it weakens you.”
Edeen let out a dainty little snort. “If Shaw knew what I was about, he'd forbid it.”
A dark brow rose. Were all the Limonts able to do that? “What are you about?”
Edeen twisted in his arms to better look up at him. “Oh Col, I've seen the symbols Aldreth used. I can get them off Toren. I know I can. We can free him.”
Charity narrowed her eyes. Had Edeen been able to see more of the symbols than she had or was the girl making a wild guess as to what the hidden parts of the markings were? As though sensing her thoughts—empath, she probably was—Edeen glanced at her, her mouth tightening.
Col looked stunned. Charity didn't know if he'd help them or be a hindrance by running off to tattle to Shaw. She was sure they'd get no cooperation from that quarter. She'd sized Shaw up as the kind who wouldn't budge when he believed he was doing the right thing. And he'd made it clear that putting the entire clan before Toren was the right thing.
Maybe it was. She couldn't really fault him. She just knew bone-deep that her right thing was saving Toren. She'd known that the first time she healed him and even though that blending of souls technically no longer existed since she’d reversed it by changing the timeline, she had felt it. Still felt it.
“You're sure?” Col asked Edeen.
She nodded.
Col stared at the leafy walls made of branches. If she searched hard enough Charity was sure she'd see the pistons of his mind rapid firing. “We'll need to slip out on my watch while Shaw and the others sleep.”
Edeen's head bobbed and Charity bobbed her own head right along with her.
“We'll need a plan.”
“I have a plan. Have had one a long time though Shaw would not hear it out.” Edeen grinned, taking on her role of being the older of the two.
One of Col's eyes squinted. “Why does your expression strike the fear of the gods to my heart?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Col's watch turned out to be the last one before dawn. The light watch he called it. The easiest watch usually assigned to him since his older brothers still treated him as a child needful of protection rather than a protector in his own right. His stiff bearing spoke of just what he thought of that notion, the underlying rebelliousness evident in the toss of his head. Charity had the feeling that if Edeen hadn't broached the matter of them running off to save Toren, that Col would have done it on his own anyhow.
They slipped easily past the little group of slumbering Highlanders that had been with Col and Shaw when they’d first found her at the castle. They slept wrapped in their long blanket-like plaids around the dying embers. On an unconscious level, they were all probably accustomed to the thread of Col's boots during the early watch and to the light steps of Edeen as she preferred to wake before the men and perform her morning ablutions in private. Which they’d agree would be their explanation should any awaken. Though a few of the men stirred, none fully awoke.
Soon the three were in the forest, walking in silence while they made their way down slope toward the gray castle. By early afternoon, they came to the back of the stony fortress where Shaw and Col had first come upon Charity the previous day.
Col led them around to the front of the austere structure where there were, indeed, tall wooden gates and several guards stationed out front and two more up in the round towers to either side. There was also an adjoining stable where it looked as though many of the guards not stationed at the doors lingered.
Not that she could blame them. The castle seemed rather dank and foreboding. Who knew what they’d find inside. It reminded her of what she thought Sleeping Beauty's castle should look like, remote and surrounded by a dense forest. All it needed was giant thorns and the witch to turn into a dragon. Aldreth couldn’t turn into a dragon, could she?
Charity frowned at the thought.
Keeping well back in the brush, Edeen revealed her plan and Col immediately began arguing.
“I do not like it.”
“Do ye think I'm enamored with your part in it?” Edeen countered. “Ye have to grab the guard in the first place whilst I merely retrieve what we need from his mind.”
“You're my sister. I do not want ye probing minds of strange men.”
“For the love of—” Edeen threw her hands up. “Now ye sound like Shaw and Toren.”
“In this 'tis well I do.”
Edeen crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “'Tis not. And for the matter, I do not want my younger brother risking himself against the witch's guard.”
“Hired mercenary I could take in my sleep. Do ye think that I cannot?”
“No,” Edeen conceded, laying her palm on his arm. “I believe in your skill. As I request ye to believe in mine. 'Tis for Toren we do this.”
Oh nicely played. Charity was impressed with how easily Edeen manipulated her sibling.
“Fine.” Col pulled against Edeen's hand like a hare would pull at a snare. “But you two remain here.” He stepped behind a patch of thicker brush and turned back, poking a finger at the air. “I mean it. Not a toe away from this spot.”
“We will,” Charity and Edee
n sang out in unison and then looked at each other.
“Will he be all right?” Charity asked, worry for the young man clamping around her chest.
“Col, aye. He's a crafty one. Been sneaking around, catching us all unawares since he was of the age his abilities came upon him. He favors sneaking in as a rat and then shifting suddenly into a bear or lion. Will likely more than not cause the poor guard to swoon.”
About fifteen minutes later they heard rustling in the bushes. Edeen slid a slender knife from her belt, perfectly hidden along the leather, which Charity glanced at with a touch of envy. Why hadn't she been given a weapon to hide in her belt? Why hadn't she thought to ask for one? Because she didn't generally wander around Seattle armed. That's why.
Some kind of bird chirped and Edeen's posture relaxed. She shoved the knife back beneath her thick belt, out of sight.
Col lumbered into view with a guardsman draped across his shoulders in a fireman's carry.
“Is he hurt?” Charity ran forward to assist in getting the guy off his shoulder.
Edeen stepped forward to help. “He's no good to us unconscious.”
Col lowered the guy and situated the floppy arms along the man's sides. The guard looked to be in his late thirties with a wind-chapped complexion around a rough dirty blond beard. Old scars criss-crossed his hands.
Across the unconscious guard, Edeen gave Charity an I-told-you-so smirk. Then to Col, “Did anyone see you?”
“D'ye believe me daft? I nipped him when he stole away to fill the dung heap, if ye take my meaning.”
“You can't probe his mind while he's out?” Charity studied the man's breathing, while holding his wrist and counting his pulse. The healer in her couldn't do less.
“Without being pulled into his dreams, nay.” Edeen shook her head.
“'Tis too dangerous.” Col slashed his hand through the air.
Edeen's lip twisted. “I need him awake and aware to differentiate between what's real and what are imaginings of a dreaming mind.”
“I can help with that.” Charity smiled. Finally something she could do.
Col and Edeen both nodded and warmth swelled into Charity's belly at the tiny bit of trust thrown her way.
“Let me first.” Col pulled thin twine from a crude pouch hanging from his belt and made quick work of tying the man's wrists together. “Go on then.”
Charity tried the direct approach first and tapped the guard's cheek. “Hey, wake up.” His head rolled to the side.
Col's expression turned bland. “I could have done that.”
Charity shrugged and this time placed her palm over the man's chest and concentrated on bringing the core of her magic up into her fingertips. She just needed a little burst of healing to buzz him with, just enough to refresh him and make his body feel well rested and energized. She and her sister boosted each other all the time during a harried day at the herbal shop, especially when Lenore had scheduled back-to-back massages with a long day on her feet. Worked better than a five-hour energy drink.
The magic coursed through her and—exploded. Magic ripped up her spine and into the back of her neck. The guard jerked beneath her hand like a man zapped with CPR paddles. He fell back and his eyes snapped open, bulging.
Col held him down. “What did you do?”
“She's not accustomed to so much power flowing through her,” Edeen explained. “In her time, there is not a steady source of magic.”
Col's head wrenched up, his forehead furrowed. Charity imagined what he must be thinking, the ramifications of little magic left in the world because of what his people were about to go through with.
“What are you about? What's going on?” The guard thrashed against Col.
“I didn't know that would happen. Is he okay?” She'd thought piggy-backing on Toren's magic was intense, but this was, this was...like riding a thunder cloud pulling magic from the fabric woven in the air. And sun. And earth all together—and it flowed into her own core—into herself—she'd never felt anything like it. Imagine what she would be able to heal or cure with this kind of magical source in her own time? Cancer. Arthritis. Spinal injuries.
“He's fine,” Edeen assured. “Startled is all.” That made two of them. Edeen placed her palms upon the man's temples while Col held him steady.
The guy's eyes practically bugged out of his skull. “Stay away from me, witch. Get back.” With his hands bound and occupied by Col, the mercenary started kicking.
Charity promptly sat on his legs and got bucked around while Edeen managed to stay perfectly still and focused.
The air hummed with the distinct vibration of magic being used.
Loose strands of Edeen's hair lifted like they were caught in static from a balloon.
The guard quieted. His face relaxed.
Edeen withdrew her hands from his head and smiled. “I have it.”
That was quick. “Have what exactly?” Charity asked.
“The corridors we need to take to Toren's prison, the location of the keys, and where the postern door is. Would ye believe Aldreth's arrogance has her post only one guard where the kitchen help throws out the slop?” Her smile was dazzling and dangerous. “We can do this.”
Charity grinned back. It was a crazy foolish plan with little chance of success, but coming here through time had been impossibly crazy as well.
“Déithe spare us all.” Col's forehead crinkled.
They were going into the witch's lair.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Shaw slammed his dirk into the tree, forearm vibrating at the impact.
Toren was lost to them and that thought alone brought a pain to his chest so intense that he barely remained standing under the strain. He'd be damned before he lost his younger siblings as well.
“'Tis as ye thought.” Donnan scratched at his chin through his bright red beard. Though the thick warrior’s magic was attuned to calling tumultuous storms, he bore the patience of a rock. Though even now clouds gathered above them so mayhap Donnan was not as peaceful beneath his surface as he seemed. “Their tracks lead off toward the witch's castle. We'll go after them in all haste.”
Shaw nodded, the muscles of his throat clamping tight. He swallowed around them. “Take Hugh and Angus only. Go as far as the burn.”
Donnan swung around, shock scrunching his wide features. “And if they’ve traveled beyond the burn? Ye do not mean to leave them.”
Shaw yanked his blade free of the tree, leaving an ugly wound in the bark. “If they've gone beyond the stream, you'll not reach them before the witch. They'll be beyond our aid.”
“Then we'll bluidy well go in after them.” The usually quiet warrior thundered like the storm summoner he was. In the distance, a bolt of lightning speared through the roiling clouds. “All of them. As we meant to do for Toren.”
Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He'd like nothing more. In truth, his blood burned to force his way into the gray castle and avenge the wrongs Aldreth had already inflicted upon Toren. The thought of his brother suffering under her hand—
Fury sang through Shaw's veins, stirring the latent magic always rumbling just beneath his skin. It would take the barest loosening of his control to let it flare out of him and destroy all those he held dear.
As a family, the Limonts were the tip of the sword that the world's magic between good and evil balanced upon. As an entire clan, they were the sword.
As a Moon Sifter, the only one born within five centuries that anyone was aware of, Shaw struggled hourly with his own internal balance, perpetually holding the overpowering force of his innate dark magic at bay.
No one, not even his siblings knew the strength and blackness of what flowed through him. He had never unleashed it fully for any to sense the tidal power within. He had never dared. It overpowered him.
Once Aldreth managed to turn Toren, what was left of the magic in this world would be overcome by darkness. Darkness would enshroud his people. Would overtake wha
t he barely managed to keep at bay within himself. There was no other possible outcome and he could not allow that to happen. A chill raced down Shaw's spine at the dire foreboding, yet even turning a sorcerer as powerful as Toren would be nothing should Aldreth discover what lay beneath Shaw’s own dark surface.
Should Aldreth get her hands on his magic—he squeezed his eyes against the building headache—the force within him would do more than disrupt the balance. Far, far more.
More than his siblings could guess. He would unmake the world. He loved his family, but if he did not get the clan into the Shadowrood...if he did not get his own magic safely within the Fae realm...a shudder rolled through him. They would perish regardless.
“How would we free Toren?” he said to Donnan. His voice sounded as defeated as he felt. “The witch has spelled herself to him. My brother cannot use magic against her.”
Donnan's face fell. “Mayhap the young lass and lad can find a way...?”
Shaw's heart pulled, worry and grief tearing at him with serrated teeth. The witch would take the younglings, use them to further break Toren.
“Go, Donnan. Go now and bring them back.” Everything inside Shaw screamed to go after them himself, save the last of his family, but he locked his knees, steeled his heart.
Donnan nodded. “And you?”
Fists clenched hard at his sides, Shaw revolted at his next words. “I'm gathering the clan. Meet us at the standing stones.”
The ruddy man's complexion went completely white. “Ye mean to take our people into the Shadowrood then? Take all our magic from the land?”
Shaw's heart turned to ice. He had no other choice. Once Toren gave in to Aldreth, it would be the only way to keep darkness from devouring the world. The only way to keep the darkness of his own magic, moon magic, out of the witch’s claws. Once she had access to Toren’s magic, she’d have control over all their magic, the entire clan’s. His. A lone tear slid along the side of his nose.