by Donna Grant
Quinn was so tired of the riddles and evasive answers. He just wanted to do the right thing and protect the people he cared about. It was becoming more and more difficult, though.
Isla stepped closer to the door. “It is said, MacLeod, that your brothers are headed this way.”
“It is also said that Deirdre has sent an army of wyrran to stop them while Warriors set a trap to capture them,” Broc said.
Quinn’s hope had risen only to be dashed as quickly. “If she takes my brothers, I will never give her my body.”
“Don’t say never,” Isla cautioned. “You don’t know how powerful she’s become.”
Broc nodded. “Isla isna speaking false. Be cautious, MacLeod. Deirdre always gets what she wants in the end. You need to decide how you plan to come out when all this is over.”
Quinn watched Isla walk away. He knew how he would come out in the end. He would bed a great evil only to spawn the greatest wickedness to ever walk the earth. If that happened, any good that might still be in the world would be gone forever.
“Think carefully, MacLeod,” Broc said. “Whatever you choose in bargaining for your body canna be undone. Deirdre is granting you this one gift. Do not waste it.”
“She willna give me what I really want, which is my brother’s freedom.”
“Is that all you really want?”
Quinn thought of Marcail, of her exotic turquoise eyes and braids that framed her beautiful face. “There is too much I want.”
“Then I will return on the morrow for your decision.”
Quinn turned and leaned against the door. Now he knew how much time he had with Marcail. And it didn’t seem near enough. He feared eternity wouldn’t be enough.
Twenty-two
Fallon broke the neck of a wyrran and tossed the creature to the ground. He glanced to his wife to find Larena finishing off one of the last wyrran. She winked at him to let him know she was all right.
He walked to her, eyeing the blood that covered her. “Is any of it yours?”
“Nay,” she answered with a shake of her golden head. “It’s all wyrran.”
Fallon looked at the ground that was littered with the small creatures. They had been battling for hours. He was hungry and tired. He was just moving to find Larena some water when he heard a roar. His head jerked around to look for the source.
“I believe Hayden is enjoying this,” Larena said, her smoky blue eyes brimming with mischief.
“Hmm. I think you’re correct.” Fallon watched as Hayden and Logan finished off the last dozen wyrran.
Fallon took Larena’s hand and walked her to the tree line where the others sat. She blew out a breath as she slid down the tree to rest against it.
“Will there be more?” Lucan asked.
Fallon shrugged. His hair had fallen from the queue at his neck. He pulled out the strip of leather and retied the queue. “I imagine there will be.”
“Nay,” Galen said. “The next time Deirdre will send Warriors to capture us.”
Ramsey looked at Fallon with cool gray eyes, his black hair stuck to the side of his face with sweat. “Then I suggest we aren’t here.”
Fallon knew they wanted him to jump them to the mountain. He’d gladly do it himself, despite the fact he didn’t remember its exact location, but he refused to endanger anyone else, especially Larena.
“Hold,” Ramsey said as Fallon parted his lips to speak. “We all want to go forward, but what if we do the opposite?”
Logan snorted as he and Hayden joined them. “You mean return to the castle?”
Ramsey shook his head. “Nay. Not all the way to the castle, but far enough back.”
“It could work.” Fallon scratched his chin. “Broc found us easily enough the first time, though.”
Larena smoothed her golden locks from her face. “I thought Broc was now on our side?”
“He is, but he’s still trying to deceive Deirdre,” Ramsey said. “That’s not an easy thing to do. He’ll have to be verra careful lest he’s caught.”
Fallon nodded, his decision made. “I know the spot I can take us to. It’s secluded, and it will give us a few hours to rest and eat before we return here.”
Lucan jumped to his feet. “Want to take a look around before we leave? I’d rather return farther ahead if we can.”
“Be safe,” Larena called after them.
With their speed, Lucan and Fallon covered a great distance in a short amount of time. Fallon pulled to a stop and looked at the forbidding mountains ahead of them. Their brother was in there suffering who knew what kinds of torture and pain.
“We could have been at Cairn Toul already had we not had to fight the wyrran,” Lucan said as he too gazed at the huge mound of rock.
“I agree. I feel better knowing Broc is with Quinn.”
Lucan rubbed his jaw and frowned.
“What is it?” Fallon asked.
“Deirdre could set a trap for us anywhere.”
Fallon had already thought of that. “It’s a chance we have to take. Hopefully, she’ll be occupied with Quinn.”
“Which will allow us to get in,” Lucan finished. He clapped Fallon on the shoulder. “I hope you’re right, brother.”
“Me, too,” Fallon murmured before he jumped them back to the group.
Marcail opened her eyes to find herself back in her cottage, or rather her grandmother’s cottage. She blinked and sat up. Everything was in order and as it should be. Not at all as it had been when the wyrran attacked it looking for her.
She frowned and swung her legs over the bed. Something wasn’t right.
Marcail clutched her skirts as her grandmother walked into the cottage. It had been so long since she had seen the woman who had raised her and taught her the Druid ways that, for a moment, Marcail couldn’t breathe.
“There is much to be done, Marcail. You must get up now,” her grandmother said in the same wise and loving tone she had always used.
“Grandmother?” Marcail could scarcely believe what she was seeing, and even though she knew she was dreaming, it was so good to see her grandmother again.
Her grandmother set the basket of herbs on the table and turned to Marcail with a warm smile on her wrinkled face. She had always been a petite woman with shoulders that hunched forward, but she had strength within her that Marcail envied.
“What is it, my child?”
Marcail rose on legs that shook. She didn’t want the dream to end. “You’re dead.”
Her grandmother tossed back her head of silver hair and laughed. “Of course I am. Listen carefully because there isn’t a lot of time. I kept much from you, more than I probably should have. Do you remember the one thing I told you to follow above any other?”
“Aye. My heart.”
“Exactly.” Her grandmother nodded in approval. “Follow your heart, my precious child. It will help you to make the decisions that will alter your life.”
Marcail shook her head. “I don’t understand. What did you keep from me?”
“That doesn’t matter now. You are already in Deirdre’s hands. It wouldn’t help you.”
“How can I escape?”
Her grandmother’s smile died. “I’m afraid you cannot.”
Marcail released a shaky breath and squared her shoulders. “What must I do?”
“Remember the spell to bind the gods.”
“I cannot. You’ve buried it too deep.”
Her grandmother’s thin arm sliced through the air. “You aren’t listening to your magic, my child. Listen and allow your magic to flow through you. Once you have, you’ll discover the spell.”
The cottage began to fade. Marcail winced as her grandmother’s nails bit into her hands.
“Listen, my child.”
“Grandmother,” Marcail screamed as the cottage disappeared completely.
Marcail’s eyes flew open to stare into the darkness and gloom of the Pit. Her lungs burned from her rapid breathing. Why had she dreamed about her grandmot
her now, and what had the vision meant?
Somehow, there was a message in the dream that her grandmother was trying to tell her. Marcail turned onto her side and replayed the dream through her mind once more. It had been so comforting to see her grandmother. It was too bad the old, powerful woman wasn’t with her now. Marcail would have liked to see her grandmother show Deirdre a thing or two.
Quinn could tell by the way Marcail woke that she had been dreaming. He wondered what filled her dreams. And as selfish as it was, he hoped she dreamed of him after he was gone.
He leaned his shoulder against the rocks at the entrance to his cave. As much as he wanted to sleep with Marcail, to hold her body against his, he knew he had to keep watch.
The Warrior Duncan had killed no longer lay in the middle of the Pit. Several of Deirdre’s guards tried to come and take him, but others in the Pit had made quick work of slicing the dead man to pieces.
It was obvious to Quinn that many of the Warriors locked in the Pit had lost their minds and their humanity. Their gods had taken control of them, and Quinn feared he would share their fate eventually. He just prayed he got the ones he cared about out of the mountain first.
“Quinn?”
“I am here, Arran,” he answered. “What is it?”
Arran paused. “It’s Duncan.”
“I’m fine,” Duncan ground as he walked out of his cave. He glared at Arran as he moved past him to stand beside Quinn. “I’m all right, Quinn.”
Quinn looked from Arran’s white eyes to Duncan’s pale blue ones. “Tell me.”
“The…pain is returning.”
Quinn lowered his gaze and sighed. He’d been dreading telling his friend what had occurred with Ian, but Quinn could no longer put it off. “You feel Ian’s pain.”
“I do,” Duncan agreed. “Did you see him?”
“I wasna able to speak to him, and he had no idea I was there, but I did see him.” He told Duncan all that had happened the day before with William and Ian. When he was done, Duncan stood with his fists clenched and death in his eyes.
“I will kill William for this.”
Quinn nodded. “I plan on doing the same. Ian is holding up well, my friend.”
“How much more can he withstand?” Arran asked.
Duncan moved until he was nose to nose with Arran. “He will withstand it all.”
“Easy,” Quinn said and pushed the two men apart. “Arran wasna casting doubts on Ian’s strength. He’s worried, just as I am, about Deirdre turning Ian to her will.”
Duncan peeled back his lips to reveal his long fangs. “Never. Ian will never surrender to her.”
Quinn wanted to believe Duncan, but Duncan hadn’t seen the torture. “Be that as it may, we should be prepared either way.”
“I know my brother. He willna submit to her,” Duncan repeated.
Arran crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin to the Pit entrance. “What happened with Broc earlier?”
“It was Broc and Isla,” Quinn said. “The orange Warrior was to prove to me that Deirdre dictates everything.”
“But she let a Warrior be killed,” Duncan said.
Quinn sighed. “She killed the man who housed the god. She didna kill the god.”
“Shite,” Arran murmured. “Even with the gods unbound they canna be killed?”
Quinn shook his head. “The gods will descend upon the strongest in the bloodline.”
“Except for your bloodline,” Duncan pointed out. “You, Fallon, and Lucan are the last of the MacLeods.”
“I know,” Quinn said. “Regardless, Deirdre proved a point. If we doona submit, she will find those that will.”
Arran blew out a breath. “Is that all Broc had to say?”
“Deirdre has granted me a boon in exchange for going to her. Broc will return in the morn for my decision.”
Duncan turned and glanced at Marcail. “You havena told her, have you?”
“Nay,” Quinn admitted. “Once I’m with Deirdre, I will do my best to free everyone here. I doubt she will allow me to return and speak to either of you, so be on the lookout for any opportunities to escape.”
Quinn saw that both Duncan and Arran were about to argue the point. He caught sight of Charon and made for the copper Warrior.
“What brings you to my side of the Pit, MacLeod,” Charon said as he rubbed one of his horns. “Did Arran confess to hitting your woman?”
Quinn didn’t believe the nonchalant attitude Charon tried to pass off. The Warrior’s eyes saw everything.
“Aye,” Quinn finally answered. “Arran and Marcail told me what happened.”
Charon’s dark brow rose. “Interesting.”
“What I find interesting, Charon, is that you would willingly spy for Deirdre.”
Instantly, the copper Warrior’s demeanor changed. He pushed from the wall and glared at Quinn. “You dare much speaking to me in such a way.”
“I’ll speak to you however I wish. I’ll admit Deirdre is powerful. Her magic is fierce and swift, and she doesna tolerate betrayal. But these are your people being killed in her mountain.”
“Not my people,” Charon growled.
“You’re a Highlander. Every man, woman, and child brought to this mountain, whether they be Druid or Warrior, is a Highlander. So, aye, your people. Deny it all you want, but it’s the truth.”
Charon turned his head away.
“I took you for a strong Warrior,” Quinn continued. “I’ve seen the way you watch everyone down here. You use your charm when you can and your brawn when you have to. What I doona understand is how you could be so weak as to not fight against Deirdre.”
In a blink Charon was in his face. “You know nothing of what you speak.”
“I know much more than you ever will.” Quinn shoved Charon away from him. “We all have sad stories, and we’ve all had someone we love taken from us. You should know the difference between good and evil.”
“I know the difference.”
There was something in the Warrior’s eyes, something haunted, that stopped Quinn from saying more. “Maybe you do.”
Charon turned and strode into his cave without another word.
“Eventually, Charon, you are going to have to choose sides.”
A harsh laughed followed Quinn’s words. “I already have, MacLeod.”
Twenty-three
Isla’s gut churned with bile, but she dared not move. She stood still as stone in the chamber Deirdre used to kill Druids and take their magic.
It was a room Isla hated with every fiber of her being. Just being inside it made her skin crawl, but having to watch a Druid die made her want to vomit.
“Dunmore did well, didn’t he?” Deirdre asked her.
Isla nodded, unable to speak. She swallowed and tried not to look at the frightened young Druid strapped to the stone table in the center of the chamber.
Deirdre cocked her head to the side as she regarded the young girl. “Thanks to your sister’s magic, Isla, I no longer have to wait until the spring equinox to find those that I search for. It was so tedious having to wait, especially when I am building an army.”
Isla parted her lips and breathed in through her mouth to stop the nausea that rolled in her stomach.
“It took me too long to realize you, Isla, are stronger than your sister. Aye, Lavena is a seer, but you, you are almost as perfect as the Warriors.”
Isla had heard enough, and though she knew she would be punished again, she didn’t care. “You know I don’t do your bidding willingly.”
“Ah, but you willingly submitted to my command once upon a time. I told you then you would always be mine, Isla. I meant it.”
“Why keep Grania? She was nothing to you, just a little girl.”
Deirdre’s smile vanished as she sneered down at Isla. “I suppose your torture wasn’t enough yesterday. Should I take the lash to you once again for being so insolent?”
Isla turned to face the Druid about to die. “Do as you
wish, Deirdre. I care not.”
And that was the truth. Isla had stopped caring. Lavena was no longer her sister, and Grania, dear precious Grania, was no longer the adorable little girl she had loved so dearly. Both her sister and her niece had been corrupted by Deirdre.
Isla understood then what she hadn’t so long ago: that she couldn’t save Lavena or Grania. If only she had known before, she might have saved her own soul. But it was too late now. She was damned to an eternity in Hell, and after suffering under Deidre’s wrath, there was nothing in Hell that could frighten her.
“Now,” Deirdre said as she walked to the Druid on the table. She placed a hand over the girl’s chest and smiled. “For one so young, I sense much magic in you.”
“Please,” the young Druid begged. “Let me go.”
Deidre tucked a strand of her white hair behind her ear. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I need your magic, and in order for me to get your magic, you have to die.”
Isla clasped her hands behind her back as the girl began to cry silent tears. She didn’t beg Deirdre again, however.
“If you want my magic, you’re going to have to force it out of me,” the girl said. “You don’t deserve the magic you were gifted with.”
Deirdre drew in a tired breath. “Enough.”
“Nay, you vicious hag. You will pay for the sins you have committed, and…”
The girl’s words were cut off as Deirdre’s hair wrapped around her neck. “I told you that was enough. I will not listen to your incessant rambling because you are too afraid to die.”
Isla blinked as the Druid began to laugh. No one laughed at Deirdre.
Deirdre’s eyes had lost their blue color and turned white with her black magic narrowed on the young Druid. “I can make this as painful for you as I want.”
“Do it,” the girl rasped.
Isla knew better than to turn away. She had seen too many of her fellow Druids, both drough and mie alike, die on Deirdre’s table. And even though Isla knew what was going to happen, she still flinched when the blade cut into the girl’s wrists.
The slashes were deep and long, and the blood drained quickly from the girl’s veins into the hollowed parts of the table where the blood then spilled into goblets on the floor.