Dark Sword 05: Shadow Highlander

by Donna Grant

  Galen used it to his advantage, leaping from horse to horse and killing the men before they even knew what was happening.

  For the first time Galen embraced his god. He let the thoughts and feelings that rushed through him each time he touched a MacClure or their horses feed his god. Galen’s only thought was to decimate the MacClures so they would leave. The wyrran could easily be taken care of once the mortals were gone.

  And to his surprise, he began to stop experiencing the emotions of others. Soon, he was touching them and feeling nothing. But with just a thought, he could be in their minds.

  Finally—finally!—after two hundred and fifty years he was learning to control his god. All he had needed to do was embrace his power.

  Galen threw back his head and roared after killing another MacClure. When he looked up it was to find Hayden shooting fire from his hands not far from Galen.

  It caused the horses to rear in fear, sending their riders tumbling to the ground where Ramsey waited to kill them.

  * * *

  Reaghan wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to act calm for Braden’s benefit. Even though they all tried to laugh and talk about mundane things, the boy could sense their apprehension.

  “We need to help them,” Braden said.

  Cara knelt in front of him and smiled. “Braden, the Warriors don’t need us. We would only be in the way.”

  “Nay,” he said. “They could be injured. They need us.”

  “Braden, please,” Fiona said, and pulled him into her lap.

  Odara helped Fiona to soothe Braden and after a moment he relaxed in his mother’s arms.

  Reaghan took a deep breath and tried not to think about Galen. He had brought her to the dungeons hours before dawn. The others had already been here, and as soon as she was inside, the door was shut and Larena stood guard.

  No matter how hard she strained her ears, Reaghan could hear nothing. They sat in silence, the two candles giving off limited light as they waited and hoped for Braden to fall asleep.

  Reaghan wasn’t sure how much time passed before Cara let out a small sigh and whispered, “Both Fiona and Braden are asleep.”

  Marcail moved to the door and pressed her ear against it. “I can hear nothing yet.”

  “You will,” Cara said.

  The longer Reaghan waited, the more frayed her nerves became. And then, they heard the roar of the Warriors.

  Reaghan’s heart tumbled to her feet and her skin grew clammy. They could hear the pounding of horse’s hooves, the shouts of the MacClures. And the shrieks of the wyrran.

  Marcail sat with her hand on her stomach and her eyes closed. Cara had an arm around Marcail’s shoulders, offering what little comfort she could.

  Sonya was on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest and her forehead resting on them. She hadn’t spoken a word since Reaghan had entered the dungeon.

  “Sonya,” she said.

  The red-haired Druid lifted her head, her amber eyes red from her tears.

  “Your sister will be safe. I know Broc and the others will see that it’s so.”

  A single tear fell from Sonya’s eye. “I pray you are right.”

  Suddenly, Odara let out a strangled cry, her hand over her heart. Reaghan rushed to the elder. “What is it? Odara, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Let me,” Sonya said, and laid a gentle hand on Reaghan’s shoulder.

  Reaghan hurried to move out of the way and allow Sonya room. Odara’s face began to turn red as she struggled to take in a breath.

  “It’s her heart,” Sonya said.

  Reaghan saw uncertainty in Sonya’s amber gaze and that gave her pause. It was almost as if the Druid were afraid. Reaghan didn’t understand. From what she had been told, Sonya’s healing magic was very powerful. Surely she could help Odara.

  “What is it, Sonya?” Cara asked as she and Marcail came near.

  After a moment Sonya shook her head. “We must hurry. Odara’s heart is giving out.”

  “Nay,” Reaghan whispered as she met Odara’s frightened green gaze.

  The three Druids held their hands, palms down and fingers outstretched, over Odara. After a heartbeat, Reaghan joined her hands with theirs. She prayed her magic would join in and help Odara. Reaghan felt the magic rush from her to mix with that of the others. It moved around the small chamber and into the elder. It didn’t take long for Odara’s raspy breaths to even out, and her eyes closed as if she rested.

  Reaghan thought everything was going to be fine until Marcail winced and said, “Reaghan. We need more of your magic. We’re losing Odara.”

  She didn’t argue, just focused on more of the magic inside her. Reaghan called to her magic, begging it to rise stronger within her.

  Her breath locked in her chest when her magic answered. Its commanding strength surged through her and then out of her hands and into Odara.

  Reaghan’s body began to hum as the magic filled every pore. Time slowed, held no meaning, as she heard a soft chanting in her head. The words were ancient. They were words she knew and recognized.

  There was so much magic filling Reaghan that it felt as if her skin would burst from it. She wanted to bask in it, to revel in the pure joy it brought her.

  And somewhere in the soothing chant of voices in her mind she heard her name. She concentrated, seeking the source. It took what felt like hours before the sound of her name grew stronger as her mind latched on to it.

  It was a deep voice, a male voice. Tears filled her eyes as she realized it was her father’s voice. His words were like a blur as they penetrated her mind. She didn’t understand what he was saying. The more she tried to slow his words to understand them, the faster he spoke.

  Until he—and the chanting—was gone.

  Reaghan opened her eyes and looked at the elder. Odara took a deep breath and everyone relaxed, her face once more peaceful. Reaghan waited until Sonya dropped her hands before she did the same.

  “Thank you,” Reaghan said.

  Sonya smiled, but the sadness in her eyes stunned Reaghan. “Nay, thank you. Without your magic, I fear she would be gone.”

  “Rest, Reaghan,” Cara said. “I will watch over Odara.”

  Marcail tucked a blanket around Odara and looked at Sonya. “Is everything all right?”

  “Aye. I’m just worried for my sister,” Sonya said.

  But Sonya had been looking at Reaghan when she spoke. Reaghan sensed the lie for what it was. She kept it to herself as she resumed her seat against the wall. Her mind was filled with the knowledge that she did have magic, great magic.

  It had felt good to have it flow through her. As joyous as it was, she wanted to sort through the jumble of words her father had somehow sent her.

  Reaghan buried her face in her hands as the sounds of the battle filled the dungeon. Her ears rang with the shouts from the men and the roars of the Warriors. She thought of Galen and prayed he would survive and stay out of Deirdre’s reach.

  To help turn her mind from thoughts of Galen being captured, Reaghan closed her eyes. Moment by moment the sounds around her faded as she delved deeper into her mind, searching for the message from her father. She sensed it was important, sensed she needed to decipher it quickly.

  His message seemed to be in some kind of code, one in which Reaghan didn’t know how to break. But she wasn’t going to give up. All the answers she needed were in her mind. If anyone could break through the spell, it had to be her.

  She nearly screamed with jubilation when a few of her father’s words became clear to her. Other words were still jumbled, almost as if they weren’t meant to be understood.

  Her stomach fell to her feet when her mind translated words which spoke of the spell. But what about it? Was he giving her a clue to breaking it?

  Reaghan didn’t know how long she had sat, lost in her thoughts, when she heard a soft creak. It brought her out of her musing. She opened her eyes and saw Odara still asleep, and Cara and Marcail resting beside her. Sonya ha
d her legs to her chest once more with her forehead resting on her knees. But it wasn’t until Reaghan looked at Fiona’s sleeping form that she realized Braden wasn’t in the chamber.

  Reaghan rose and walked to the entry. The door was open only a crack, not wide enough for any of them to get through.

  But wide enough for a wyrran. Or a small boy.

  Reaghan didn’t hesitate. She threw open the door and yelled for Braden as she raced down the long corridor.

  Only a few torches were lit, casting dark shadows everywhere, but Reaghan never stopped. She raced up the stairs to the great hall and skidded to a halt in front of Larena.

  Larena stood with her feet braced apart, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

  “Braden,” Reaghan said as she tried to breathe. “He’s gone. I think he went to help the Warriors.”

  “By the saints,” Larena cursed, her face going white. “I’ll go look for him.”

  Reaghan grabbed Larena’s arm. “Nay. You must guard the others. I’ll look for Braden.”

  Larena’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Hurry back.”

  “I will.”

  Reaghan hoped it was a promise she could keep. Already she had broken her pledge to Galen to stay in the dungeon, but she couldn’t let Braden get caught in the fighting. He was but a lad who knew nothing of battle or weapons.

  She ran into the bailey and looked to the battlements, but she didn’t see Braden amid the Warriors battling wyrran. Her ears throbbed with the deafening roars and piercing shrieks.

  The MacLeods stood as one, fighting side by side and slaughtering wyrran who climbed the castle wall. Among the Warriors she glimpsed, there was no green-skinned one.

  Reaghan was about to return to the castle when she saw the postern door unbolted.

  “Nay, Braden,” she whispered in torment.

  But even as she prayed the boy wouldn’t leave the castle, she knew he had. The sounds of the battle were thunderous, more terrifying now that she was in the thick of it.

  Reaghan took a deep breath and stepped through the postern door. She came to an immediate stop as she saw the sheer mass of MacClures and wyrran. Among them were Druids who were trying desperately to reach the castle.

  Broc swooped down from the sky and lifted two of the Druids to fly to the castle. The wyrran had cornered a small group of Druids, most likely for Deirdre, but the MacClures were killing any Druid they saw.

  And then she saw the red cloak.

  Reaghan’s heart pounded so loudly she feared it would jump from her chest. Dunmore, the man from the loch, the man who wanted to take her. Reaghan couldn’t allow him to see her.

  She framed her back against the castle wall and slowly sidestepped so she could look for Braden and not bring notice to herself. He would be difficult to see amid the battle, but she had to find him.

  Reaghan drew in a ragged, broken breath when she caught sight of Galen. He was fighting without his shirt, his dark green skin splotched with blood. But it was the violence in which he fought, the utter strength and power he wrought with his body, that held her entranced.

  Just as when he had battled the wyrran in her village, Reaghan couldn’t take her eyes off him. Galen moved effortlessly, dominating and annihilating any and all who came near him.

  His roars were booming, the strikes of his claws ferocious. He was a Warrior.

  And he was magnificent.

  Some feared the Warriors, but Reaghan had known from the beginning Galen was different. Her love for him had only grown each day she had been with him and had seen the man, the Warrior he truly was.

  It was that love which gave her the strength to search for Braden. Galen would stop at nothing to protect those he cared about, and Reaghan could do no less.

  She tore her gaze from Galen and focused on finding other Warriors. Braden had wanted to help them. Reaghan guessed he would stay near a Warrior to render whatever aid the lad thought he could.

  It didn’t take her long to find Braden standing not far from Logan. She tried calling out to him, but the boy couldn’t hear her over the battle. Reaghan could go back into the castle and get the attention of a Warrior on the battlements, but they were busy fighting wyrran.

  She was on her own.

  Reaghan squared her shoulders and lifted her skirts as she raced toward Logan and Braden. The lad had found a sword lying on the ground and was trying to lift it as a MacClure came at him.

  A scream lodged in her throat when the MacClure struck Braden with a sword. His small body fell to the ground without a sound as the sword dropped from his hands.

  Reaghan rushed to Braden’s side. She stood over him, the sword he had attempted to lift in her hands, as a wyrran came at her.

  She had never been so petrified in her life. The wyrran smiled at her, its lips unable to cover the mouthful of teeth. Its long claws clicked together just before it swiped a hand at her.

  Reaghan leaned back to avoid being scratched. She tried to swing the sword, but she was more effective in using it to keep the wyrran’s claws at bay than to harm the ugly creature.

  Suddenly, Broc fell from the sky behind the wyrran and severed its head from its body. “Reaghan, what in the name of all that’s holy are you doing?” Broc demanded.

  Reaghan set the end of the sword on the ground and leaned on it. “Braden. He’s hurt. Take him to Sonya.”

  “I’ll take both of you.”

  “Nay,” Reaghan said. “I’ll make my way to the castle. Just take Braden before he dies.”

  Broc frowned but lifted the boy in his arms and jumped into the air, his wings spread wide. “Get as close to the castle as you can. I’ll come for you.”

  Reaghan kept the sword in her hands as she started toward the castle. She smiled when she saw Broc reach the castle with Braden. She had saved him.

  An icy chill overtook Reaghan, one of menace and evil. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Dunmore had spotted her. He spurred his horse toward her, his gaze intent on her and her alone.

  Reaghan lifted her skirts as she began to run. Behind her she heard a man yell the MacClure name.

  A sharp, ferocious pain slammed into her. Reaghan stopped, her feet refusing to move. The sword dropped from her fingers as her vision swam and the world tilted. Her legs gave out and she fell to her knees.

  The pain was cruel and brutal as it stole her breath and her ability to move. Something had struck her in the back. But she had promised Galen she would stay safe. She wouldn’t give up now. She would crawl to the castle if she had to.

  But no matter how many times her brain told her body to move, nothing happened.

  It grew more difficult to breathe. Each time her lungs emptied, her body struggled to fill them up again. She felt something warm and heavy slide down her back.

  Reaghan toppled to the side and cried out from the unbearable agony. All she could do was watch from where she lay as Galen and the other Warriors battled back the MacClures and the wyrran.

  Reaghan, however, knew her time was at an end.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Sonya rushed from the dungeons into the great hall when she heard Broc bellow her name. It had taken all of them to keep Fiona inside the dungeon as Reaghan searched for Braden. Fiona’s grief-stricken cries had broken Sonya’s heart.

  Exhaustion and weariness weighed heavily on Sonya. She had slept little. Not even Broc’s promise to fly the Druids into the castle had helped ease her worry. Nor would it until her sister was beside her.

  Then it had taken all she had to save Odara. At one point, Sonya hadn’t thought she would be able to help the old woman. She worried that the fear she had long had of losing her magic was coming to pass.

  And it couldn’t have come at a worse time, when others would need her so desperately.

  “Sonya, hurry,” Broc yelled as he carefully laid something on the floor.

  Her steps wavered when she caught sight of Braden. Tears gathered when she saw the boy’s chest and the deep slash th
at cut him diagonally from hip to shoulder. Sonya knelt beside him and held her hands over the wound.

  It took a moment for her magic to come to her, once more bringing to mind her unease that she might one day lose her healing magic when it was needed most.

  Braden’s wound was severe, but his little body was strong and he fought for life, which helped Sonya’s magic. Still, it took everything she had, pouring all of her magic into Braden, before the wound began to close.

  The fact that the wound was large and gaping meant she had to use her magic even longer. She couldn’t rest, couldn’t rebuild her strength, for fear Braden’s body might give out.

  When the last of the wound had come together, Sonya lowered her hands and nearly fell over.

  Broc’s strong arm came around her. “It’s over now.”

  She wanted to do nothing more than sleep for a sennight.

  Then they heard the anguished, heartbroken roar.

  * * *

  Galen swiped his claws across the chest of a MacClure and watched as the mortal fell backward, his lifeless eyes staring at the sky.

  He glanced around for his next victim, only to discover that the few remaining MacClures were running away. Galen looked around at the carnage. So many lives had been taken, and all in Deirdre’s bid for dominance.

  Galen started toward the castle to help the others with the wyrran when auburn locks lying amid the grass caught his eye. He paused, his heart suddenly unable to beat.

  “Nay,” he whispered, refusing to believe what he saw.

  Reaghan was in the castle. Safe from harm. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

  It’s one of the other Druids who just arrived.

  It didn’t matter how many times Galen told himself that, he had to know for sure.

  With heavy feet and a sinking heart, he started toward the woman. He saw the spear sticking from her back. She lay at such an angle that Galen couldn’t see her face.

  He took a few more steps then halted. All his breath left his body when he glimpsed Reaghan’s face. Galen ran the remaining steps to her, the roar which tore from his throat stripping him of his soul.

  Galen dropped to his knees and smoothed Reaghan’s hair from her face. His hands shook, his god having ducked away at the grief that assaulted Galen.