Chapter 29 #2
Broc turned his gaze to her. “Where she held Phelan. I attacked Deirdre and was about to kill her when Dunmore came down the stairs shouting how he had a Druid who had come to rescue me.” He paused as he recalled the joy—and terror—of knowing Sonya was inside the mountain. “I killed Dunmore.”
“Thank God,” Marcail murmured.
“I then found Sonya, and we left. I knew Deirdre would go after artifact, and since I had gotten her to tell me the details, Sonya and I decided to look for it ourselves.”
Ramsey grinned then. “You found it.”
“We did,” Broc agreed. “It was Sonya’s magic which helped me get past the spells in the tomb. The magic surrounding it seemed to make her magic stronger. We had just gotten inside when Deirdre arrived. I shut Sonya inside so Deirdre couldna reach her.”
Quinn looked at his brothers and rubbed his jaw. “If Deirdre left her mountain, she is more than determined. We need to be careful.”
“How long can Sonya stay in the tomb?” Duncan asked.
Broc shrugged his shoulders, his wings ready to stretch and feel the wind beneath them. “No’ long. I should return for her straightaway.”
Galen stepped forward then, his skin turning the dark green of his Warrior. “You’ll need me.”
Broc knew how much it pained Galen to touch anyone. With the simplest touch Galen could see inside someone’s mind. The only person he could touch without his power intruding was his woman, Reaghan—the first artifact.
“Come,” Galen bade Broc with a smile. “I have control over my power now, and Sonya needs you.”
Broc moved closer to Galen the same time Fallon did. They would need Fallon’s power to teleport from the castle to the tomb. Since Fallon couldn’t jump somewhere he had never been, they were using Galen as a conduit.
Fallon gave a nod to Broc and took the black skin of his god.
“Think of the tomb, of exactly where it’s at,” Galen told Broc.
Broc pictured the outside of the tomb and kept the image in his mind as Galen laid his hand upon his head. In the next instant Broc, Galen, and Fallon were standing outside the tomb.
There was no evidence of wyrran. No sign of Deirdre.
Broc was instantly on guard.
“Broc,” Fallon whispered as the three of them backed together.
He bent his legs, ready to fight whatever came at him. “I have no idea.”
“It appears as though Deirdre has fled,” Galen said.
“Doona underestimate her,” Broc said. “She wants this artifact. She’s already lost Reaghan. She has no intention of losing what she thinks is the second artifact.”
Fallon glanced at Broc. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’ve damaged the one thing Deirdre could have gotten information from in the tomb.”
Galen chuckled and shook his head with a wry smile. “Verra smart of you.”
“I think Deirdre is gone,” Fallon said.
Broc agreed, but he wasn’t sure they were alone. He raced into the burial mound and stopped at the door. Fallon and Galen were right behind him. They hissed in a breath as the magic surrounded them.
“Doona fight it,” Broc warned them. “It has the power to kill you where you stand.” A moment later the magic faded from them. He pounded on the door. “Sonya! Sonya, can you hear me?”
“Broc?”
He dropped his head to the stone and smiled as his heart rejoiced at hearing her voice. “I’m here. So are Fallon and Galen. We’re going to get you out.”
Broc gripped the stone and began to pull. When nothing happened, Galen and Fallon soon joined him. But not even their combined Warrior strength could budge the rock.
“It was Sonya who somehow got it to open before,” Broc said as he put his hand over the markings.
Fallon scratched his jaw and eyed the massive stone door. “And she’s inside.”
Broc leaned close to the door. “Sonya, I need your help to open the door.”
Sonya wiped the sweat that beaded her forehead and raised her brows as Broc’s voice reached her. How could she open the door? She was on the inside. Then she recalled that she had used her magic on the markings. She walked to the door and looked for more Gaelic writing, but there was nothing.
She ran her finger over and over the spirals on the amulet. “I just want out of here,” she whispered.
There was a loud pop as the stone door swung open. Sonya looked back at the tomb once more before she walked toward the doorway. As soon as she did, the torches went out. She immediately ran to Broc. He wrapped his arms wrapped around her as a slight boom sounded, signaling the door had shut again.
“I told you I’d return,” he said.
Sonya put her lips on his for a short kiss. “I never doubted you.”
Phelan didn’t know why he helped the indigo Warrior. Maybe it was the fact that he had fought the wyrran and argued with Deirdre. Broc, his name was. Whatever Broc and his Druid had been searching for, Deirdre greatly craved it.
He should have left Glencoe as soon as he sensed the Druid with Broc. But something drew him back. He couldn’t name what it was or why it had affected him. Only that he had to get to Broc.
Now he knew why.
Phelan would never pass up an opportunity to get at Deirdre or her filthy wyrran, even if it meant helping another Druid in the process. She had much to atone for in Phelan’s eyes; and not even an eternity of torture could make up for what she had done to him.
He smiled as he watched the wyrran fight the Warriors his power created. Phelan had thought Broc would join in and kill the beasts, but instead he had flown away.
And where was the Druid who had been with Broc? The last Phelan had seen, they had entered the tomb. Which meant the Druid was inside.
Was Broc leaving her there? If so, it was a fitting punishment, a final torture all Druids deserved.
Phelan chuckled at Deirdre’s outrage as her precious wyrran were being beaten by Warriors she didn’t control. There were times he thoroughly enjoyed his power.
Like, now.
If only the rest of his life could give him such enjoyment he might be able to put aside the resentment that filled his soul.
Until then, however, he was going to relish hurting Deirdre.