Chapter 29
Sonya stared at the door, her arms wrapped around herself. Thankfully the torches hadn’t gone out when Broc shut her inside the burial mound.
A shiver raced over her skin, a reminder of just where she was. She turned and looked at the occupant. Sonya wondered who he was. Had it been his idea to hide the clue about the Tablet of Orn in his tomb? Or had it been decided after his death?
She jumped when she heard the wyrran again. There were many of them by the sounds. They would be attacking Broc again. If he didn’t get away from Deirdre, Sonya would die in here. She supposed it was better than dying by Deirdre’s hand. At least this way Deirdre would never get her magic.
But she couldn’t help but worry how Broc would feel about it. He would blame it on his supposed curse, when in fact the blame lay solely with Deirdre.
With nothing else to do, Sonya began to look for a weapon she could use in case Deirdre was somehow able to open the door. Sonya inspected the spears and swords which hung on the walls.
But it was the sword that lay in the dead man’s hands that grabbed her attention.
Both hands were wrapped around the pommel, and the sword rested on top of him. Along the blade was beautiful knot work that had been etched into the metal. Mixed with the interlacing plait of knots was more Gaelic writing.
Sonya wished she could read the markings. She held her hand over the sword and felt magic. It was faint, and not nearly as strong as the magic guarding the burial mound, but it was definitely magic.
She longed to grasp the sword, to examine both sides of the blade. Sonya had never cared much for weapons before, but this sword called to her in the same way trees did.
“Amazing,” she murmured. She leaned over the corpse when she saw the large garnet stone atop the hilt of the sword.
Garnets were highly prized. The sheer size of the stone, which was as large as a child’s fist, must have cost a fortune.
Her gaze then spotted the markings running in a spiral around the pommel. Not only could she not read them, but the bones from the man’s fingers and hands blocked her from seeing the rest of the markings.
She itched to move the corpse’s fingers and inspect the sword more closely, but she would never desecrate the dead in such a way.
Sonya blew out a breath and began to straighten when something else caught her eye.
It was the barest wink of light off gold, but she saw it nonetheless. She gently, tenderly peeled back the ragged neckline of the man’s tunic to better see what was around his neck.
Her lungs locked when she saw the amulet and the double spiral in the gold. The double spiral represented the equinoxes, when day and night were of equal length.
Sonya traced her finger from the middle of one spiral until it curved out and then the other way to the middle of the second spiral. Somehow she knew the amulet was important to the artifacts, important in the war to defeat Deirdre.
Sonya knew she had to take the amulet and even though she didn’t want to disturb the dead, lives were at stake.
She lifted the leather strap that held the amulet and cut it with a dagger she had found among the many weapons.
She held up the amulet to the light and couldn’t stop staring at the oblong shape of the metal and the spirals within.
“If I’m not meant to take this, then I will return it,” she told the corpse. “If it is supposed to be used along with one of the artifacts, then I pledge that I’ll keep it safe until such time. Just as you have.”
The torches flickered, and if Sonya didn’t know better, she would have thought the spirit of the dead leader had given his consent.
Isla stood in the village near MacLeod Castle and stared into the forest before her. It had been Ramsey who first drew her attention when she found him looking toward the woods. He had stood at the trees and gazed at them for hours until she had to know what he saw.
It wasn’t until she neared Ramsey that she noticed the trees were bending the opposite way from the breeze off the sea.
“What is it?” asked a deep voice that always melted her heart.
She waited until Hayden was next to her before she intertwined her fingers with his and nodded to the forest. “Watch.”
“They’re trees, Isla. They do move with the wind.”
She loved her Warrior, but sometimes he didn’t always see the things magic could do. “Look at them. Look at the way they bend, at how they move.”
“God’s teeth,” he murmured after a moment. “Is that what holds Ramsey’s attention?”
“I believe so.”
“Are they trying to talk to Sonya?”
Isla licked her lips and shrugged. “I think they are trying to tell us something. The only one who can hear them, however, is Sonya.”
Of a sudden the trees stopped moving.
Hayden cursed and released her hand. “I need to get the others.”
Isla didn’t take her eyes off the forest. She would bet all the magic inside her that the trees knew where Sonya was, that they were trying to tell those at the castle where to find her.
It took no time at all for the other Warriors to race toward the village.
“What did you discover?” Quinn, the youngest MacLeod, demanded as he skidded to a stop beside Isla, the first to reach them.
Ramsey turned his head of black hair and locked gazes with Isla. He walked to her, his jaw clenched and lines of worry bracketing his eyes and lips.
“Can you hear them?” Ramsey asked.
Isla slowly shook her head. “I cannot.”
“But you saw? You saw what they did?”
“I did.”
Quinn blew out a harsh breath. “Would someone please share with me?”
“Tell all of us,” Lucan said as he walked up with the other eight Warriors, including Larena.
“It’s the trees,” Ramsey said, his silver eyes intent.
Isla nodded. “I think they are trying to talk.”
“To Sonya?” Quinn asked.
“To us,” Isla said. “I think they are trying to tell us where Sonya and Broc are.”
“And if they’re in trouble,” Ramsey added.
Lucan’s brow furrowed in thought, but it was Fallon who said, “They are no’ moving now. How long do you think they were trying to talk?”
“About an hour,” Isla said.
Ramsey nodded and glanced at the sky.
She knew he was anxious for Broc to return. They were all worried about Broc and Sonya.
Isla looked to the trees, waiting and hoping they would try again. She wasn’t surprised when they bent toward them, against the wind just as before.
“Holy Hell,” Quinn muttered.
Then the trees swung to the right. They repeated the movements over and over again.
“They’re telling you which direction to go in,” Isla said. “Go. Now.”
The Warriors were readying to leave when a huge shadow flew over them. There was a cry of relief when everyone spotted Broc, but the joy vanished when they caught sight of his empty arms.
Broc circled back when he spotted the Warriors in the village. He had no sooner landed before Ramsey was before him. Ramsey’s silver eyes searched his.
“What do you need?” Ramsey asked.
Broc looked at the faces of the Warriors ground him and drew in a deep breath. “I had to leave Sonya. Deirdre cannot get to her, but I need to return. Immediately.”
“What happened?” Hayden, the tallest of the Warriors, asked in his usual forceful manner.
Broc ran a hand down his face and glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps behind him. He should have known the Druids would want to know about Sonya.
He had vowed to bring her home. And he would.
“Broc.”
He turned his head when he heard Isla’s voice. He could barely look into her ice blue eyes they were so filled with worry. If they had known about the curse, they wouldn’t have let him go after Sonya. Nor should he have.
If she died...
“Deirdre was after a second artifact, one which she said I could get to, but she could no’,” he explained.
“Where is Sonya now?” Marcail asked, her turquoise eyes filling with tears.
Broc looked down at his hands and saw the claws and indigo skin of his Warrior form. He had thought he would always be able to protect Sonya, but he had been wrong.
“I found her wounded and about to be attacked by a wolf. There was a storm, and I had no wish to fly with the possibility that she might be hit with lightning. I brought her to a nearby village to heal.”
“She was wounded?” Isla asked. “But she’s a healer.”
“For some reason, she believed her magic had left her. She almost didna survive that first night.”
Cara, Lucan’s wife, put her hand to her throat. “Is her magic gone?”
“Nay,” Broc said. “I always felt it. I was trying to convince her to return with me to MacLeod Castle when I spotted the wyrran. I made the mistake of thinking they had discovered her. Instead, they came for me.”
Camdyn frowned. “Why you?”
“As I said, Deirdre was after a second artifact. It was locked in a Celtic burial mound that was protected by spells. Neither she, nor any of her wyrran, could get inside.”
Broc looked to the MacLeod brothers who stood together. “She also told me of her plan to capture all of the Warriors here and turn them to her side by killing us, then reviving us until the evil took over.”
Fallon blew out a breath. “We all knew she would be furious.”
“There’s more,” Broc said. “She plans on killing you and Lucan so that only Quinn houses your god. She will turn him as she plans the rest of us, and then together have the child which was prophesied.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone took in his words.
“I was captured by Deirdre, and though I told Sonya she should return here, she followed the wyrran back to Cairn Toul,” Broc continued.
Larena smiled wryly. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Nor me,” Reaghan said.
“How did you get free?” Arran asked.
Broc shifted feet, eager to return to Sonya. “Deirdre had used drough blood to subdue me and keep me in great pain. My god became…resistant...to the effects of the blood and grew enraged. I recalled the spell Deirdre used to unlock doors, and I used it to release my shackles.”
“Where were you in the mountain?” Isla asked.