Time Everlastin' Book 5

by Mickee Madden

  Air ejected from Lachlan's lungs. His mind went into a tailspin as shouts and cries rang out. He blinked and saw Charles arc the dirk, preparing to embed it in Lachlan's chest.

  Time came to a halt.

  Lachlan's life flashed before his eyes, every joy and hardship a convoluted enactment on the stage of his mindscape. From far, far away, he heard his children call to him, heard Beth cry out in anguish. The family he had waited so long to have was slipping away as time's gates opened once more.

  Charles released a resonating hiss as he threw his weight into plunging the sacrificial dirk downward.

  Then it came.

  Chapter 14

  Taryn woke reluctantly from dreams reenacting the hours she'd spent in Broc's arms. Every muscle ached deliciously as she stretched beneath the cover of leaves. Never had her mind and body felt so satiated.

  So...contented.

  Realizing she was alone in her den, she smiled and stared at the ceiling, and pondered where Broc could be. It struck her funny how making love with him had so altered her life. A different Taryn had been born. A Taryn happy and satisfied to embrace a life in this underworld, as long as she remained with him. She'd never felt like she belonged to anyone before—not her parents, her brother, nor the string of lovers who, collectively, had not afforded her a modicum of the pleasure Broc had. Previously, a lover left her feeling needy for something she couldn't define.

  Feeling somehow unclean. Used, although she usually initiated the affair.

  Not even Lachlan measured up to Broc in her heart. Thinking back, he was but a stepping stone to prepare her emotionally to accept her destined significant other. And accept him, she did.

  Climbing off the makeshift bed, she cleaned her teeth at the basin with a leaf, donned the shirt she had previously worn, and left the chamber. Arriving at the first pool, she dove in and swam to the bottom, where she sat cross-legged, flung out her arms, and release a singsong cry in triumph of a new beginning. She no longer feared the pressure of water in her lungs.

  No longer feared anything.

  Taryn Eilionoir Ingliss at long last was truly in love.

  She left the pool and padded to Broc's den, humming a medley of oldies from the sixties. He wasn't there. Undaunted, she went to the sun room. Only the horse occupied the chamber. Munching on a patch of vegetation, he stopped long enough to cast her a questioning look.

  Still humming, she headed in the direction of Karok’s chamber. No sooner did she enter the passageway, she heard Broc's voice.

  "There be no changin' the game now!" he bellowed. "I want her gone!"

  A burning sensation formed in Taryn's throat as she peered hesitantly around the stone arch, into the room. Karok was perched atop a rock, glowering down at Broc, who, dressed only in a clean kilt, was a formidable presence wielding a claymore beneath the creature's nose.

  Karok released a gurgled growl and back-handed the blade aside.

  "Ye like her?" Broc raged scathingly. "Then ye bed her! I've had ma fill. I canna love her—no' one as she—so ye have lost this round!"

  Karok howled furiously, while Taryn's heart turned to a cold, inanimate rock, and her newfound love transformed into a dark and fathomless void.

  "Send her away!" Broc ground out through clenched teeth. "Send her away now afore ye force me to take ma sword to her! Not even yer power can save her from a beheadin'—and slay her I will!"

  Taryn's stiff legs carried her into the room. Karok first noticed her. Broc whirled to face her, his livid bearing enhancing his powerful frame. Taryn searched for a glimmer of remorse in his eyes. But for rage, they were as dead as her emotions.

  Without thought, she stopped in front of him and mechanically positioned the blade to her throat.

  "End this," she said tonelessly.

  Karok roared as Broc stepped back and arced his claymore. Taryn didn't blink. Didn't experience even a twinge of fear. She was already dead.

  Broc released a horrendous wail of fury, but his raised arm froze in mid-swing and he clutched his chest.

  The chamber filled with the sound of his accelerating heartbeat. Taryn swayed, listening abstractedly, her mind unable to grasp what was happening. With a cry of anguish, Broc stared at the ceiling, his fingers digging into the flesh around his heart as he sank to his knees.

  "No!" he bellowed, and rocketed to his feet. The claymore whooshed in a circle above his head. He released a shrill whistle then turned on the gargoyle, quaking with rage and incredulity. "Ye ken!"

  Karok snarled, exposing pointed teeth.

  Again Broc clutched his chest. He released a fierce groan of pain and, his sword-wielding arm dropping to his side as if too leaden to hold up the weapon, he staggered back several pace, the tip of the sword dragging across stone.

  "He be here," Broc gasped, fighting for breath. "Break our connection, damn ye!"

  Karok released a gurgled probe.

  "No!" Broc sucked in ragged breaths. "Danger above. Canna stop me."

  The horse galloped into the chamber and stopped between Broc and the gargoyle. Gripping the mane with his free hand, Broc weakly swung onto the horse's back. With a sharp glance at Taryn, he drove his heels into the animal's sides and man and beast galloped from the room.

  Her skin as cold as ice, Taryn dragged her feet to stand before Karok. "What have you done to him?" she asked in a barely audible tone.

  Karok’s wings spread and flexed, his penetrating eyes riveted on the entrance.

  "What have you done?" she asked with more force.

  The vibrant green irises fixed on her face, and his brow puckered thoughtfully.

  "Damn you!" she bit out, and ran from the chamber.

  Broc kept low to the horse's back throughout the ascent of the spiral steps. Instinct told him when to strike his blade against the entombing slab above. The vibrations activated the stone.

  A warrior's cry rang out as both worlds quaked with the opening of the portal.

  * * *

  Lachlan's life flashed before his eyes, every joy and hardship a convoluted enactment on the stage of his mindscape. From far, far away, he heard his children call to him, heard Beth cry out in anguish. The family he had waited so long to have was slipping away as time's gates opened once more.

  Charles released a resonating hiss as he threw his weight into plunging the sacrificial dirk downward.

  Then it came.

  From out of the abysmal dark grayness, louder than the inexplicable sound of stone grating against stone, came a shrill war cry followed immediately by hooves pounding the wet earth. Lachlan watched Charles' head turn. Saw terror seize his features. Heard him wail as he flung himself to the ground, out of Lachlan's sight.

  Lachlan struggled into a sitting position and forced himself onto his feet. Shouts and cries razored the night, disorienting him. He staggered past the altar before he felt the burning sting of the rain.

  Something pounced in front of him. A dark shape. A snorting dark shape.

  A...horse.

  Lifting his gaze, Lachlan first noticed a claymore clutched in a large fist. Lifted further to meet demonic dark eyes. Eyes that narrowed upon him and burrowed into his soul.

  The rider released another blood-curdling wail while swinging down from the horse's back. With a whinny of alarm, the animal took off through the stones and beyond toward the loch, while the stranger, dressed in nothing but a kilt, stood with his back to Lachlan, poised like a guardian from the depths of hell.

  Chants rang out in Gaelic, the words but static in Lachlan's ears.

  Through the downpour, Lachlan spied a shape rushing toward the stranger. The advancer was close before Lachlan recognized him and, sucking in a roaring breath, pushed off to stop Roan's attack. The stranger lifted his sword above his head, swinging it round and round while emitting guttural sounds reminiscent of ancient war cries.

  Without thought, Lachlan drove a shoulder into the stranger's back. Both men toppled, Lachlan sprawled atop the other. Before he cou
ld regain his wits, Roan's weight fell upon him, robbing Lachlan of breath.

  The lowest man of the heap bellowed in Gaelic. Roan rolled off, then Lachlan. Both men were on their knees when the stranger sprang to his feet, his hunched form resembling a ravenous wild beast about to pounce.

  A shot rang out. The hiss of a bullet whizzed past Lachlan's right ear. Another shot. Another. To Lachlan's horror, Roan pitched backward to the ground as if punched by a mighty invisible fist.

  "Roan!" Lachlan cried, scrambling on his knees to Roan's side.

  "Damn me, Lannie" Roan said though clenched teeth. "I'm hit. Ma shoulder."

  A preternaturally loud gasp shot Lachlan's head around. Dougie, his rain-drenched doughy face distorted with rage, leveled his hand gun in Roan's face.

  "No!" Lachlan roared. He was about to throw himself across Roan, protect this man who was more than a friend, more than a brother, when suddenly a blur of motion impacted with Dougie's face. The big man dropped to the ground, the gun flying from his grasp. Lachlan stared at the poised hand above him. A hand clutching a sword, the hilt of which had just saved him and Roan.

  Pushing himself onto his feet, Lachlan held out his bound wrists and demanded, "Cut me free!"

  Without hesitation, the stranger deftly slid the edge of the blade along the duct tape. A brief struggle later, Lachlan's hands were free, and he barked at the stranger to do likewise for Roan.

  Flan came forward, stopping at a safe distance from the threesome. "They are yer enemy!" he said to the stranger. "We are your servants. We are, no one else, and we are here to offer a sacrifice for yer return!"

  The stranger's gaze crept to the altars a short distance away. Lachlan looked from him to them, then back in time to see the man's eyes widen then narrow in a feral look of contempt. He swung to face Flan, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword.

  "Release them!" he commanded, pointing to Reith and Blue with the tip of his claymore. "Release them lest I forget ye are ma kin!"

  Lachlan's heart collided with his Adam's apple. Kin? A MacLachlan, this mon?

  "Now!" the stranger bellowed, his voice seeming to rock the ground. "Ye!" He pointed to Katie. "Do as I bid!"

  She glowered at Lachlan as she dragged her feet to the slabs. He watched her. Afraid to breathe. Afraid she would turn against the stranger and harm Blue and Reith. By the time the last bond was removed from the fairy couple, Lachlan released the air that had soured in his lungs.

  "Broc!" a woman cried.

  "Taryn!" Roan wheezed, and eased into a sitting position.

  She stood at a wide opening in the ground, trembling, her soaked shirt translucent on her otherwise naked body.

  "Broc!" she called again, her frantic look scanning the faces turned her way.

  Locating Broc, she dashed toward him. She closed half the distance when another shriek, one ominous and more chilling than the rain, rent the air. Katherine lunged at Taryn, the sacrificial dirk raised above her head.

  Startled, Taryn stumbled to a stop, and lifted an arm instinctively to ward off the blow.

  Lachlan wasn't aware when he'd cast off in a run. Wasn't aware he was moving until he hit the ground, grappling with a she-devil screeching and raking him with her fingernails. Then it was over. He was standing, teetering on his feet, supported up only by a firm hand gripping his shoulder. When Taryn cried out Roan's name and ran to him, Lachlan gave himself a firm shake to dislodge his confusion. One blink and he saw Mavis and Katie tending to Katherine a short distance away. Another blink and he was staring into the penetrating eyes of the stranger.

  Broc. Taryn had called him Broc....

  "Leave here now," he said. He glanced toward Taryn, and Lachlan read sorrow and anger in his eyes. "Take her home," he said in a low, raspy tone, again his gaze trying to convey something to Lachlan he couldn't grasp. "Keep her safe."

  "Who are you?" Lachlan asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Another shriek, this one no less shrill than Katherine's, yet male.

  All eyes turned to Charles, who stood near the slabs, one beefy arm positioned in a choke hold around Taryn's neck. Roan lay moaning a short distance away.

  Broc released a threatening growl, and would have stormed toward Charles if not for Lachlan's firm hold on his arm.

  "They're no' rational folk," he warned Broc. "He willna hesitate to kill her."

  "Ye owe us!" Gil cried, edging to Charles' side. He spat rain from his mouth. "Her life for the treasure!"

  "Treasure!" Broc spat.

  "We have waited for generations!" Mavis snarled. "Givin' our lives to ye in promise o' riches. Give us our due, or she dies!"

  Broc faced the enraged elder, his livid expression triggering a primordial fear in Lachlan.

  "Och, Mavis," he sneered. "The years havena been kind to ye. A womon scorned, aye?"

  The old woman screamed Gaelic obscenities at him.

  "Aye, tis a sore subject, no doubt," Broc taunted.

  Katherine, Katie, Mavis. The three resembled grotesque statues, frozen in the downpour until Katie stepped forward. Lachlan's instincts flared up in alarm.

  "We have served ye faithfully," she mewled to Broc. "Is this how ye repay us? Sidin' wi' these ou'siders?"

  "The treasure!" Flan whooped, noticing the gap in the ground. "We'll fetch it ourselves. Come. We dinna need this betrayer to get wha' is owed us!"

  Again, Lachlan stayed Broc.

  "Tis no treasure wha' belongs to our clan," Broc said.

  Gil raced toward the opening. Charles dragged Taryn along, sputtering with each hit her bare heels landed on his shins. When he was close to the opening, Broc swirled his sword in a hand and plunged it into the ground.

  "Leave her be!" he warned.

  "Like this one, eh?" Gil sneered. "MacLachlan women no' to yer likin'?"

  Roan staggered to Lachlan's side, one hand braced against his bleeding shoulder. "Release ma sister, or I swear upon all I—"

  At the same time a bestial wail rose from the ground, a horrendous whoosh, whoosh, whoosh paralyzed everyone. From the yawning blackness, a massive creature soared upward, and stopped to hover above the observers. Mavis dropped in a faint. Katherine and Katie ran to Charles, hiding behind him as if he alone could sway the creature from harming them. Gil threw himself to the ground, bent over his legs, his arms covering his head.

  Charles shoved Taryn to the ground and lifted his hands in surrender, noticing from the corner of his eye, Dougie standing and aiming the hand gun at the beast.

  Broc's head shot around. Without thought, he wrenched the sword from the ground and pitched it into the air. Dougie fired a misshot. Before his finger engaged the trigger again, Broc's blade plunged into his middle. A death rattle was heard before he crashed to the ground.

  "Get below!" Broc demanded of the gargoyle.

  Katherine and Katie shrieked in fear, and hid their faces when the gargoyle landed in front of Broc, Lachlan and Roan. Roan reflexively stepped back. Lachlan stood his ground. Broc stepped forward, as if to prevent the creature from reaching the men beside him.

  Karok vented with a long, gurgling lament then snarled, hissed, and pointed a talon at the opening.

  The rain abruptly ended, and a deathlike silence blanketed the site.

  "No!" Taryn cried. She flung herself into Broc's arms, her own cinching his middle. "Don't let him send us back!" she pleaded of Lachlan and Roan. "He's held us prisoner! Lachlan, send him away!"

  Lachlan found himself staring into the eyes of the creature, whose green gaze studied him with uncanny attention. Then, to his and Roan's amazement, a rueful smile appeared on the beast's mouth, and his gaze pinged between Broc and Lachlan.

  "She remains here wi' her brither," Broc said stonily to the creature.

  "No!" Taryn braced her back against his chest and faced the gargoyle. "Karok, haven't you punished him enough?"

  In response, the beast threw back its head and wailed. The sound made even Lachlan shudder.

&nbs
p; "He doesna want ye now," Broc told Taryn. When she looked up at him imploringly, his spine stiffened. "I dinna want ye. Leave wi' yer brither and never return."

  "I-I won't leave you," Taryn sobbed. "I-I'll stay down there with you! We can have a life in his realm. I don't care, damn you, not as long as I'm with you!"

  "Taryn," Roan rasped.

  "Oh, Roan," she wept. "Don't let Karok do this." She slapped her palms to Broc's chest. "I love you!"

  "Take her!" Broc commanded Lachlan, and shoved her into Lachlan's arms. "Hold her fast till the ground seals."

  "Broc, no!" Taryn shrieked. "You don't have to return below! He can't force you!"

  Broc, who had been walking toward the opening, stopped and cast her a withering look. "Nay, he canna force me. I go because tis where I belong."

  "I hate you!" she wailed, and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth.

  "Aye, as weel ye should for lettin' me have ma way wi' ye," he said without mercy, and whistled for the horse. When the animal arrived, he mounted. The gargoyle spread its wings, lifted into the sky and whizzed about the site with dizzying speed.

  Lachlan and Roan discovered holding Taryn back was more work than imaginable, for she fought them with all her might. Broc descended into Karok’s world, the gargoyle flying close behind him.

  "Wha's the beast carryin'?" Lachlan said.

  "It took Dougie!" Katie cried. "He stole Dougie!"

  The ground shuddered as the opening rapidly closed.

  A thought struck Lachlan and he glanced in the direction of the sacrificial slabs.

  Blue and Reith were gone.

  Chapter 15

  Roan passed Taryn a steaming cup of tea and settled into a chair across from her. Despite the golden glow from the blazing hearth, her features were wan, emphasizing dark half circles beneath lifeless eyes.