Chapter 15
Sonya held her breath, willing her magic to grow and fill her as it used to. She expected to be flooded with it. Instead, there was just a small, tiny ribbon of magic that spiraled up inside her.
She could feel her hands healing, feel the skin mending together and her wound close up. She tried to make her magic ignore her wounds and tend to Dunmore, but it was already too late.
With her injuries mended, Sonya poured what little magic she had found into Dunmore. His wound was severe, and she feared the slight magic she had wouldn’t be enough to repair him properly.
But she would do all that she could. For Broc.
The nagging fear about not having her magic when she would need it most roared to life within her again. Sonya didn’t have time to let that panic take hold as it had in the past. Not when Broc’s life was in jeopardy. She pushed the fear aside and focused on healing Dunmore.
She didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound until she became too exhausted to use any more magic. There were limits to her healing, and with the small spark she had found, Sonya was glad she had been able to do something.
It might well have been the last of her magic, but it would be worth it if Dunmore led her to Broc.
“Is that all you’re going to do?" Dunmore demanded.
Sonya dropped her hands and opened her eyes. She pushed aside his hand to see the injury. It had stopped bleeding, and the wound had closed up, but it had not entirely healed as she should have been able to make it do.
“I thought you Druids could do magic!”
Sonya glared at him as she sat back on her heels. “Be glad you are no longer bleeding everywhere. The wounds are closed and mending.”
“Heal me fully.” His face twisted with rage.
Sonya raised her brows. “That is as good as I can heal you. If it isn’t good enough, I will reverse it leave you bleeding again.”
She couldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that. It was a threat, and by the way his face went slack, it worked to her advantage.
“Once you get me and Broc out of the mountain, I’ll finish healing you.”
Dunmore wiped the blood from his hand on his tunic. “I doona suppose I have much of a choice.”
“Nay, you don’t.”
Sonya climbed to her feet and waited impatiently for Dunmore to do the same. She knew she couldn’t trust him, knew he would try to do something, but he was all she had. The mountain was too big and there were too many wyrran for her to try and search herself.
Dunmore rose slowly, testing his body. When he stood beside her, his eyes were too bright, too eager. Another shiver of dread raced down Sonya’s back.
She would have to keep her guard up. At no time could she turn her back on Dunmore. She glanced at his hip to find his sword gone.
He smiled cruelly when he saw where her gaze had gone. “I gave you my word, Druid. Do you doubt it?”
“Most certainly. Tell me where Deirdre is keeping Broc?”
Dunmore sighed and glanced at his wounds again. “He’s been taken below.”
“Below? What does that mean?”
“Broc is well below the mountain. He’s beneath all the dungeons. He’s in a place where there is one way in and one way out.”
And if Deirdre was there, Sonya knew the outcome wouldn’t be favorable. “Take me to him.”
“You doona want to go down there.”
The truth shining in Dunmore’s eyes made her stomach clench. Nay, she didn’t want to do it, but she would. “Take me.”
“As you wish.” Dunmore walked past her to the door and opened it before he stepped into the corridor and turned left.
Sonya followed him, keeping just to his side and behind him. It was imperative she keep him in her sights at all times.
“Ah, Broc,” Deirdre whispered. “You know what I can do. You know how far my knowledge stretches. I haven’t lived this long and bound myself to the black magic for nothing.”
“What do you think you know?” he asked. If he kept her talking it prolonged whatever she had in store for him and helped him to formulate a plan.
Since she wanted him coherent for their conversation, she had done something to hinder the pain of the drough blood inside him, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that she would let it loose the first instant he made her angry.
She walked behind him, trailing her hands over his shoulders and back. “Oh, I know one of the artifacts I searched for is now being held at MacLeod Castle. I know the artifact is none other than a Druid named Reaghan.”
“You think you know so much from being in Mairi’s mind.”
Deirdre laughed. “What little I didn’t know from Mairi the Druids from Reaghan’s village told me.”
“Would you like me to clap for you?”
“This is a side of you I’ve never seen,” she said as she came to stand in front of him. Her white gaze was curious and much too interested. “Have you kept this need for mockery and sarcasm inside all this time?”
“There is much you doona know of me.”
“I know the important parts,” she whispered.
Broc’s nostrils flared in anger. Of course she would know the vital parts. She had been the cause of all of them.
“I’ll tell you a little secret—”
“Why?” he interrupted her. Deirdre didn’t tell anyone anything, and if she did, no good could come of it.
Deirdre’s smile was slow as it spread across her face Her gaze was calculating, her intent clear. “I’ve found the location of another artifact.”
Now Broc was listening. This was information they could use. All he had to do was discover the spot and get to it before Deirdre. After freeing himself from Cairn Toul first, however.
“Ah, I see that got your attention.” Deirdre once more rubbed her hands along Broc’s chest. “I will find all the artifacts, and I will have Reaghan in my clutches. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I’m too powerful, Broc.
There isn’t a Druid alive who can compare to my magic.
They all know it. Which is why they hide. ”
“They hide because you hunt and kill them.”
She chuckled. “Thanks to you and the MacLeods, my army of Warriors is gone. It’s going to take me weeks to build it up again.”
“My heart bleeds.”
She cut her eyes to him and lifted her lip in a sneer. “You will be my first. You will take lead over my Warriors.”
“I willna.”
“You know I can make you. I will send you after the second artifact to ensure it is mine. Then, I will send you to the MacLeods. You can spy on them for a day or two before you kill the others and bring me the Druids and the MacLeods.”
Broc shook his head. “Never.”
“Few can withstand the evil once it seeps into your soul,” she said as she leaned close. “With your god inside you it will only spread the evil quicker. You won’t stand a chance.”
“If the artifact is so important to you, why doona you get it yourself?”
“I cannot get to it.”
Her confession surprised him. “The artifact must be of great importance if someone has gone to so much trouble to keep you out.”
Then, a plan formed all of a sudden. It was reckless and would most likely turn his friends against him, but he had to try. “I’ll get the artifact for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“You want it now. I will fight you as you waste precious days killing me and bringing me back, days the MacLeods could have learned where the artifact is and retrieve it themselves.”
Deirdre’s eyes were hard and icy. “Why are you so willing?”
“In exchange for leaving the MacLeods and all who reside at the castle alone.”
“An appealing bargain, but one I’m not willing to accept. Those of you who betrayed me will be punished. The Druids who thought going to the MacLeods would save them will die at my hands. And you already know my plan for the MacLeods.”
Broc gripped the chains and wished he could pull them from the wall. But they were held with magic, a magic too strong for even his strength to break through.
He remembered then that Isla had said there was a spell, a chant Deirdre used to unlock the shackles. Was it the same chant Deirdre used on other things? Broc’s mind raced to remember the words, words he thought to never use.
“No quip, Broc? Nothing clever to say?” Deirdre said.
“Apparently no’.”
She trailed her hand down his arm to where his hand gripped the chains. “You are a striking man, but I always did prefer you in your Warrior form. The indigo skin and those magnificent wings of yours. Very impressive.”
“Where is the next artifact?” He figured he had nothing to lose.
Deirdre cocked her head to the side. “You think I will just tell you?”
“Aye. You are full of your own importance and think I will never get free.”
“You won’t,” she stated. “You are mine now.”
“Then what harm will come to tell me?”
For several moments Deirdre silently watched him, calculating. “Glencoe.”
Broc hid his surprise. He had never expected her to reveal the location, especially not so easily. There had to be a reason. Deirdre was too manipulative, too shrewd to give away information so freely.
“Shocked?” Deirdre asked, her brows raised. “I realize you are correct. You will not leave my mountain until you are completely mine to control, so telling you does no harm. Besides, I want you to know just how futile it is to hope the MacLeods might learn of this artifact.”
“Then tell me the rest,” Broc urged. He knew there was more. There was always more where Deirdre was concerned.
“I found scrolls tucked away in an old Druid village. The occupants were long gone, the buildings falling to ruin.”
“You mean a village you destroyed.”
She grinned. “Of course. If I had known then what those mies were hiding, I might not have been so hasty to burn everything.”
“If the scrolls burned, how did you find them?”
“They were protected by magic. Time and the elements did more to them than the fire I began.”
Broc narrowed his gaze. “And you were able to read the scrolls?”
“After a bit of my own magic, aye.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s in Glencoe?”
“You really should work on your patience, Broc,” she said with a grin.
He glared at her, wishing he could claw out her evil white eyes.
“All right,” she said with a laugh. “It’s a Celtic burial mound.”
Broc shook his head. “They are no’ to be disturbed, Deirdre. The Celts put great measures in place so that harm will come to those who enter.”
“I know,” Deirdre said and walked in a large circle away from Broc. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked at the stones as if they were the greatest work of art. “I assure you that as a Warrior, you will be able to get inside and acquire the artifact.”
“And what is the artifact?”
She stopped and shrugged. “That I don’t know.”
“The mighty Deirdre absent information?”
Deirdre rolled her eyes. “The scrolls had magic, remember? They burst into flames when my magic came in contact with them.”
Broc snorted. “Too bad they didna burn before you were able to get the information you do have.”
“If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to tell you that you alone can open the tomb. I also wouldn’t be able to tell you there will be markings around the door, markings created by the Celts and filled with magic by the Druids.”
“How does knowing of the markings help?”
“Do you know how many burial mounds there are?”
Broc shook his head, disgusted to even be having the conversation with Deirdre. The fact only he could open the tomb gave him a bit of an advantage. If he could get free, he could find the tomb and get the artifact.
“Why the interest in these artifacts?”
“To help me rule the world.”
“It’s a big world. You willna be able to conquer all of it.”
“I have always made it clear I will do anything and everything to ensure I rule all.”
“And you really think you will win?”
“I know I will. Shall I prove it to you?” she asked with a devious grin.
Broc saw her hand raise and instantly the blinding pain of the drough blood filled him again. He bellowed in fury as he fought against its power.
This time Deirdre let more of the poison take hold.
His knees buckled as he squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together.
Nothing helped. The drough blood was slowing his body, halting his heart, and shriveling his insides.
“You will be mine,” Deirdre said near his ear. “And it all begins now.”