Chapter 10 #2
With as much food in her belly as she could manage, Sonya stood before the window, her arms wrapped around her. It was well after midnight. The sky was clear and no matter how hard she looked, she didn’t see Broc.
Her window overlooked the village, but there were too many shadows for her to know if wyrran were waiting to attack. Below, she could see the men Jean had stationed to guard the inn. Their presence should have made Sonya feel better. But they didn’t. She worried about them dying in an attack.
The fire in the hearth had died down to nothing but embers, and Sonya had no intention of building it back up. It allowed others to see into her chamber when she wanted to see out. If she was going to be attacked, she would be prepared for it.
After an hour of standing, Sonya moved the chair closer to the window so she could still maintain her position there. Fatigue and anxiety weighed heavily upon her, but she refused to give in.
Broc had risked his life going after the wyrran. The least she could do was stay awake through the night. She could rest once she was back at MacLeod Castle. If she made it back.
A shiver of dread raced down her spine.
How she wished she could use magic to talk to the trees once more. They could tell her where Broc was and if he was in trouble. The trees would also alert her if any wyrran were near. But both were difficult her with her magic gone.
The trees had always been there to guide her in troubled times. Now, she had only herself, and that didn’t inspire much confidence.
She had no magic to protect—or heal—herself, and she knew nothing about using the dagger Broc had her. She was useless in defending herself, but she couldn’t allow that to take away her focus in getting to MacLeod Castle.
If Broc had been taken, the others would free him just as they had freed Quinn.
Sonya gazed longingly at the forest. She didn’t hear the whispers on the wind as she used to.
Those whispers were the trees communicating with each other, and to her, one of the few who could understand them.
Ever since she could remember, she had heard those whispers and felt the comfort of the trees as they watched over her.
All was quiet now, and it saddened her. Would she have to go through life without ever hearing the trees again? The thought left her feeling empty. Barren. Meaningless.
Was this how others felt? To those who had never experienced magic, they would never know the thrill of feeling it move inside them or the satisfaction that came from using it for good. They would never know how magic became a part of a Druid, much like breathing or eating.
But she would.
Magic had defined her life. Could she face her uncertain future without magic? How did she even begin to try?
Sonya wrapped her wound and stared at the cut. No longer was it tinged green with pus coming out of it. It was healing, but slowly. If there was still magic insider her as Broc said, she should be able to use it.
“Let’s see,” Sonya murmured.
Before she hadn’t even had to think of healing herself. It just happened. Maybe now she would have to concentrate as she did when she healed others.
Sonya held her right hand over her left and closed her eyes. She imagined her magic gathering inside her, imagined it building and coming up her arm and then being released through her hand as it had done countless times throughout her like.
But no matter how hard she focused, no matter how much she wanted to feel her magic rush through her body, there was nothing.
Tears spilled down Sonya’s cheeks. She dropped her hand and stared in misery at her wound. She couldn’t grip anything without tremendous pain, and it would be weeks yet before she could move her hand normally.
She had secretly hoped Broc had been right, that she did still have some magic. But she had just proven she didn’t. No amount of wishing or praying would return it, and the only good thing was that it meant she wouldn’t be in danger of being taken by Deirdre.
Without magic, she was insignificant. In more ways than one.
Sonya let out a shaky breath and leaned her head against the side of the window. The idea of no longer being able to call herself a Druid left a hole inside her, a hole she knew would never be filled.
She let her thoughts drift, and as usual they turned to Broc. He had filled her life so fully, so completely in just a few weeks that it seemed as he had always been there.
When in fact he had. He had seen her grow from a small baby to the woman she was today. She wondered how she looked through his eyes. Sonya imagined throughout his nearly three hundred years he had seen many beautiful woman and probably loved several of them.
She could mean very little in the grand scheme of things in a Warrior’s life.
The door to her room suddenly burst open. Sony jumped to her feet, her good hand on the hilt of the dagger. Until her eyes landed on the one man who could make her forget everything but him.
The sight of Broc sent her running to him. His arms wrapped around her as he held her against his bare chest, crushing her. But she didn’t care. He was alive. He was with her.
“I was so worried,” she said.
“I returned as soon as I could.”
Sonya pulled out of his arms and looked over his body. His breeches were ripped. Dried blood coated his body as well as his breeches. “What happened?”
“There’s no time. We need to leave.”
Sonya took one look at him and knew Broc needed rest, but as a Warrior he would never admit it. This was his third night without sleep, which wasn’t usually something that troubled a Warrior; but with the injuries he had sustained, he had no choice.
“Nay,” she said. He didn’t move with the same quickness as normal. He was sluggish and fighting to keep his eyes focused. Whatever had happened, he needed a respite. Yet, she knew he would argue against it. “I need a few hours of sleep first.”
Broc shut the door behind him and walked to his satchel by the bed. “I’ll be flying you, so you can sleep on the way.”
“Not until dawn.”
“Sonya,” he ground out as he wearily lifted his head to her. “Doona argue with me.”
“A few hours rest. For you and me. You’ve evidently battled the wyrran. You need to eat as well.”
He scoffed at her words and pulled out his last tunic from the satchel. “I’m a Warrior. I can go days without food or sleep.”
“After you've been injured? It is just a few hours until dawn. Give me at least an hour. You can eat and tell me what happened.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “They'll be coming. I couldna get them all. By now, one of the wyrran has returned to Deirdre and told her where we are. If we doona leave now, we put everyone in danger.”
Sonya fisted her hands to keep them from shaking. She could try to argue with Broc that she had no magic and therefore was of no use to Deirdre, but she knew he wouldn’t leave without her. Sleep would have to wait.
“There’s a bowl of water. Wash the blood from you while I get some food and then we can leave.”
He gave a simple nod and Sonya headed to the door. She gathered as much food as she could find and hurried back to their chamber.
“Do you have everything you need?” Broc asked as she entered their room.
“Aye. Eat this bread,” she said as she handed him a portion she had torn from the loaf she’d taken. “Just take a bit or two before we leave.”
He finished washing the blood from his upper body and tossed aside the towel before he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I thought I could get all the wyrran, but despite those years in the mountain, I never realized how intelligent the wyrran were.”
“What happened?” she asked as she guided him into a chair and shoved the food at him.
“They split up.” He fingered the bread a moment before he finally brought a piece of it to his mouth.
“I tracked down one after the other, and each took longer because they were clever and hid in places I had trouble getting into. They kept me following them, kept just out of reach to give the others time to get ahead.”
Sonya swallowed around the lump in her throat. She had been right to be worried. It was as dire as she had assumed it would be.
“I killed all but one,” he continued. “By the time I found it, another eleven had met up with the creature. I knew I didna have time to kill all of them. I had to return to you.”
“Eat, Broc. All will be well.”
As she watched him, she saw the rage, the craze which could sometimes overtake a Warrior if he gave into the fury of the god inside him.
How close was he to losing himself to his god forever? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.
He was too important. To everyone. But most especially to her.