Shadow Highlander ds-5

by Donna Grant

  Logan nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. “Someone besides the elders has to know something. We just need to determine who that is.”

  “I say we doona waste any more time. I’ll see if I can find Odara. She seemed the most agreeable of the three elders.”

  “Good luck,” Logan said with his customary smile in place. “We’ll need it.”

  Galen grinned after Logan, but stayed long after his friend had returned to the village. Something didn’t seem quite right. What disturbed him more was the warning that the artifact couldn’t be removed from the village lest Deirdre discover it. With Deirdre occupied with gaining a form once more, it was the perfect time to get the artifact out of the village and to MacLeod Castle.

  Galen decided it was time to see what he could learn from Odara. He had learned which cottage was hers earlier in the day. To his delight, when he knocked, she opened the door.

  “Galen? Is there something you need?”

  He decided to use some of the charm Logan found so successful and smiled. “Aye. I wondered if I could have a moment of your time.”

  She hesitated before inviting him inside. “Of course. Please come in. Have you eaten supper?”

  “Not as of yet.”

  “Then please dine with me. I do hate to eat alone.”

  Galen inclined his head and took the seat she showed him. “I gather the village once had a significant number?”

  “Oh, aye,” she said, and bobbed her graying head as she spooned soup into a bowl. “I do recall hearing that our group of Druids had been one of the largest in Scotland. It breaks my heart to see so few of us left now.”

  “I can imagine.” He smiled when she set the bowl in front of him. Galen stirred the delicious-smelling soup as he waited for her to join him. “Have you thought about leaving and joining another group of Druids to help your numbers grow?”

  She smiled forlornly as she slowly lowered herself into her chair and patted his hand. “If only it were that easy. We have been in this area since long before the Romans came to Britain.”

  “Sometimes change is for the best. You have no men to protect you or to marry the women to give this clan the children it needs to continue. You are dying.”

  “I know.” She sighed and put a spoonful of soup in her mouth. “Believe me, it is something on the minds of every person in this village save for little Braden.”

  Galen took several bites of the soup before he said, “Have you thought of inviting men no’ of the Druid heritage into the village?”

  “Our magic is already diminished to the point that if we mix again, there may be no magic to the offspring.”

  “Then I think I can understand why so many have left.”

  “Aye,” Odara replied softly. “If I were younger, I might contemplate it myself. I longed for children, and the daughter I was finally blessed with was taken by the wyrran many moons ago.”

  Galen set down his spoon. This time he was the one to cover her hand with his own. “I’m verra sorry.”

  “Deirdre has made it so that it is the way of life. You either die at her hands, or die alone.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I said the MacLeods would welcome all of you. We could protect you much better than even your magic here.”

  She cocked her head and studied him a long moment. “There is something you aren’t telling me. Something about yourself you think you need to keep secret?”

  “I am here to help you as well as to seek the artifact that could help end Deirdre.”

  “Galen, what is it you are hiding from us?”

  “Nothing you need to fear. Of that I give you my word.”

  SEVEN

  Galen knew Odara wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t push the issue. They ate in silence for several moments before Galen decided he would just come out and ask her what he needed to know.

  “The columns we passed through on entering your village. They are verra old.”

  “Ancient,” she said with a pleased grin. “When I was younger I used to sit and just stare at them. I’ve always longed to know how they came here and who erected them.”

  “Can you read the writing?”

  Odara shook her head. “Nay. No one can. Somewhere in our history the elders stopped teaching how to read the markings.”

  It was just what he had hoped to hear. “You know what we seek?”

  “An artifact,” she said without looking up from her bowl.

  “Can you tell me more about it? Is it here?” Galen decided to see if she would lie to him. They might not understand the Celtic writing on the stones, but he was sure they knew not to take the object outside of the magic.

  Odara sighed and set down her spoon. Her brow furrowed as she leaned back and raised her gaze to him. “I wish I could tell you what you want to know, but you know I cannot.”

  “Even if it could end Deirdre’s reign?”

  “As tempting as that is, I cannot make that decision alone. The elders, as one, must agree, and that won’t happen. I’m sorry.”

  He held in the ire that rose inside him. He and the other Warriors were doing everything they could to win against Deirdre. Why couldn’t the Druids recognize that and join forces with them?

  “We were told by our Druids that there were several groups with similar artifacts. These artifacts were created in an effort to one day fight Deirdre.”

  Odara folded her hands on top of the table. “We’ve been isolated here for many generations, Galen. I cannot tell you what other Druids may hold.”

  “Just as I thought.” He wasn’t gaining any information.

  “However,” she continued, “I do remember when I was just a lass overhearing one of the elders speak of an object. He didn’t say so, but it was obvious he meant another band of Druids.”

  Galen tried to hide his excitement at this new revelation. “Did he say where these Druids were or what the artifact was?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry I cannot be more help.”

  Galen leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “I’m afraid verra soon Deirdre will find this village, Odara. We hurt her. Badly. At one point we thought we had killed her, but it seems her black magic is more powerful than we anticipated.”

  “You attacked her?” Odara asked with surprise and a wee bit of fear. “You are but a man, Galen.”

  He smiled then, wishing he could tell her the truth. “We were with the MacLeods. Deirdre had captured the youngest brother, and we went to Cairn Toul to free him. In the process, we cornered Deirdre and proceeded to kill her. We then released the Druids and others being held in the mountain.”

  “So the Druids have returned to their homes? Could the ones taken from us be on their way back?”

  He glanced down, hating to tell her the truth. “I’m afraid no’. They didna make it off the mountain. We found only one alive, Isla. She is the Druid who told us Deirdre wasna dead, that Deirdre had put spells in place to ensure she would never die.”

  “Then how do we defeat Deirdre?” Odara cried. She shook her head and rose from the table to pace her small home.

  Galen turned to watch her, one arm resting on the back of the chair. “I believe she can be killed. She knows of the artifact here. She was planning on coming to take it when we attacked her. She’s floating around now without a body, and her magic has been depleted. But it will be restored, as will her body. When that happens, she’ll come for this village and the artifact.”

  Odara paused and took a deep breath. “She’ll never find it.”

  “Doona be so sure. I’ve seen her skill with torture, experienced it myself. Few can withstand it.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  He stood and faced her. “Allow me and Logan to escort the village and the artifact to MacLeod Castle. There you can be protected. Deirdre has attacked the castle several times, and has lost each time. She willna be eager to do it again.”

  “Many fear the Warriors.”


  “More so than Deirdre?

  Odara bit her lip. “Aye.”

  “I doona understand.”

  “Evil is evil, Galen. The men who hold the god inside them may not be evil, but the gods themselves are.”

  Galen took a deep breath. “Have you seen any Warriors? Have any harmed you or this village?”

  “Nay.”

  “There are Druids at MacLeod Castle. They wouldna put their lives in the hands of those who couldn’t protect them,” Galen said.

  After a moment Odara sighed. “I need to speak to the other elders. But know this, Galen, they may well not believe your words.”

  “Then all of you will die, and with you, our chance to destroy Deirdre.”

  *

  Reaghan stayed at the edge of the loch long after the sun set in the hopes of seeing Galen again. She didn’t know what Mairi had told him, but whatever it was, it had made him walk away.

  Though it had never bothered her much before, Reaghan shuddered at the thought of another meal alone, or even one she shared with Mairi. She would much rather share a table with a large group of people where the conversation never ended and the laughter was loud and boisterous.

  She had never eaten a meal like that, but in her dreams, in the flashes she saw of another life she was sure she had lived, she’d had such meals.

  Reaghan walked aimlessly through the forest. She kept as far from the village as she dared, but always within the safety of the magic. She might want to leave soon, but she knew the dangers of wyrran and Deirdre, especially at night. It had been years since a wyrran had been seen, although she wasn’t fool enough to think they would never return.

  In fact, she couldn’t shake the feeling they would return. And soon.

  Reaghan stopped and leaned back against a tree, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know where that feeling had come from, but she knew it was true, just as she knew she needed to seek out the Druids in Foinaven Mountain.

  She couldn’t explain it, and it frightened her. The headaches, the dreams, and now this feeling of impending doom. Something was going on, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand.

  But she knew she was involved whether she wanted to be or not.

  In the past she would have gone to Mairi and confided her fears. Now, the only person she found herself wanting to talk to was Galen.

  He had seen the outside world, knew what awaited her. And he knew of other Druids, Druids who might be able to answer some of her questions. It crossed her mind then that maybe she should travel with them when they returned to MacLeod Castle.

  She would be safer with them. Alone, she was an easy target for those who would prey on her.

  It was a risk. She didn’t know much about Galen or Logan, and if she considered leaving with them, she needed to know them better.

  It was too bad she didn’t know anything about this artifact Galen sought. She would be willing to help him find it in exchange for being guided to either MacLeod Castle or even Foinaven Mountain.

  A smile pulled at Reaghan’s lips. The elders might not tell Galen or Logan anything about this artifact, but they might tell her.

  Reaghan pushed away from the tree and started for Nessa’s cottage. She didn’t stop until she stood in front of her door. The door opened almost as soon as Reaghan knocked.

  “Reaghan,” Nessa said, shock in her voice. “Is everything all right?”

  “Aye. I wondered if you could spare a few moments?”

  The elder motioned Reaghan inside. “Of course. Is it the pain of your head which troubles you?”

  “Nay,” Reaghan lied. “I find myself curious about Galen and Logan. I always thought we were the last of the Druids. Yet they say more are out there. I wonder how many.”

  Nessa shrugged and sat at her table, an empty trencher in front of her. “It’s hard to speculate.”

  “But you have to wonder.” It was a chance she was taking in making Nessa admit her thoughts, but Reaghan had to do it so Nessa would know she couldn’t lie to her.

  Nessa frowned. “Trying to determine just how many Druids are still left in Scotland isn’t something anyone can do except maybe Deirdre.”

  Reaghan seized the opportunity and sank into the chair opposite Nessa. “This artifact Galen seeks that they say is in our village, why have I never heard of it?”

  “It is something we keep private and divulge to only a few.”

  “There are only twenty-three of us left. How few do you need?”

  The elder shook her head and looked away. “Why do you want to know about this artifact?”

  “Because I’m curious. Because I’ve been living here for ten years and knew nothing of it. How is that? Do you not trust me?”

  Nessa laid a hand atop Reaghan’s. “We do trust you, Reaghan. You are one of us.”

  “If you trusted me then I would know of this artifact. It has to do with my memories being gone, doesn’t it?”

  Nessa looked away again, which was answer enough.

  “You won’t tell me, will you?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Nessa replied.

  Reaghan pulled her hand out from under Nessa’s and stood. She hadn’t expected to come away with all the answers to her questions, but she hadn’t thought to leave without some kernel of information.

  “I will leave you then,” Reaghan said.

  She left before she said something she would regret. For so long she had considered these people her family, the ones who would always be there for her.

  What had happened in her past and the memories that were closed to her? Had she done something terrible? Her mind raced, imagining scenario after scenario. She thought of the worst and tried to picture herself taking someone’s life.

  There was no way she could have done such a thing. But then again, she didn’t know the person she had been before the fever.

  Before her memories were taken from her.

  Reaghan’s mind was in a whirl of chaos. For an instant, she felt as if she might break into a million pieces, her heart wrenched from her body.

  And then she heard it, the sweet, lilting melody.

  Oftentimes they were able to hear the music coming from MacIntosh Castle. The sounds carried swiftly over the loch, making Reaghan almost feel as if she were in the castle herself.

  She let herself drown in the music, let it quiet her battered soul. The melody from the flute was one of her favorites, and it never failed to seep deep into her bones.

  Reaghan forgot her agitation, forgot her anger, and walked toward the loch. What better way to ease her soul than listening to such splendor?

  EIGHT

  After leaving Odara’s, Galen wandered aimlessly before he found himself once more at the loch. He told himself it was because he loved the quiet beauty of it, not because he was searching for Reaghan.

  But he knew it for the lie it was.

  He didn’t want to fight the attraction, the deep yearning that tugged at him. If he didn’t battle it, he would end up touching Reaghan, and then everything would shatter when he saw into her mind.

  Reaghan deserved better. Her mind shouldn’t be violated, her secrets shared, her innermost feelings exposed for him to see. She was too pure, too exquisite to be marred by what he was.

  He had already destroyed one woman before he had realized just how potent his powers were. Galen couldn’t — and wouldn’t — do that to Reaghan.

  All the same, his body screamed for release, for Reaghan. His cock ached to bury deep inside her slick heat. His body cried out to feel Reaghan’s skin, to breathe in the scent of her hair, to taste her essence. Just to hold her.

  Galen had never felt such yearning, had never known such hunger for a woman. Her smile. Her gray eyes. Her radiant, auburn locks. It took but the barest of thoughts to conjure her in his mind.

  How he wanted to be able to draw her into his arms, to press her against him and feel the crush of her breasts.

  How he longed to sweep aside her hair to expos
e her neck so he could kiss the delicate, sensitive skin at his leisure.

  How he craved to cover her lips with his and explore her mouth until he was drowning in her.

  How he desired to thrust into her wet heat, to see and feel her climax beneath him.

  All without ever knowing what was inside her mind.

  Galen lowered himself between the roots of an oak and leaned against the massive trunk with a resigned sigh of what could never be. The gentle, constant lapping of the water against shore lulled him. He hadn’t slept the night before, and he could feel the weariness creep over him.

  His gaze lifted to the heavens, to the millions of stars that winked down at him and the crescent moon that shed its light over the loch.

  Then the music began. The sound of the flute was as lovely and special as Loch Awe, but it wasn’t until the bagpipes joined in the haunting melody that Galen truly enjoyed it.

  He leaned his head back and breathed the magical air of Loch Awe. He might be leaving the village without the artifact, but he had found a special beauty in the loch, one that resonated with his soul.

  It wouldn’t defeat Deirdre, but if he was ever captured by her again he knew what memories he would call up to help him through the lengthy, bleak hours of eternity.

  Loch Awe. And Reaghan.

  As if his thoughts summoned her, she moved out of the shadows, as graceful as a feline, as ethereal as an angel. She stood at the loch’s edge, the water touching the hem of her gown as she swayed with the music coming across the water.

  The melody began soft and sweet, but grew in tempo until the sound echoed evocatively around the loch. When it came to a crashing end, Galen wanted to call out for more.

  He never uttered a sound, but Reaghan turned her head and looked at him. He didn’t move, afraid he would scare her off.

  “Galen.”

  Her velvety, gentle voice whispering his name left him struggling to pull a breath into his lungs. It was the way she said it, breathily, sensuously, with a hint of surprise, that had his blood burning and the passion he struggled with roaring to life once again.