CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #3
The black energy swirled directly past Aidan into the chamber and to the man lying there.
But it bounced off his body hovering in the air.
A roar of frustration sounded.
“Tabby’s spell is working,” Brie breathed.
Aidan smiled savagely. “What’s amiss, Father? Canna ye enter yer own form?”
“Aidan, watch out!” Brie screamed as the black power descended onto him.
But his silver energy blazed, deflecting it. He stepped toward Moray’s body, sword raised. Brie turned away and heard the thump of his blade.
A howl of outrage sounded.
Brie tensed as the blade thumped again.
And then the cry suddenly ceased. The chamber was utterly silent except for Aidan’s harsh, heavy breathing.
Brie didn’t dare look inside but she felt the darkness weakening.
She looked up. Black, it spun upward into the gray sky, twisting and dwindling, becoming smaller and smaller, vanishing near the pale sun.
She heard the chamber door close. A bloody sword landed on the ground. She turned, trembling, her knees buckling, and Aidan pulled her close.
She went still, her cheek against his chest, his heart thundering there. He held her, hard and tight. It was over.
HE LANDED INSIDE ELGIN’S INNER ward, so determined to find his son that he did not even fall, for he refused to succumb to any pain or weakness now.
The black walls of the ward swirled in his vision, and it was a moment before he steadied.
He glanced around. Elgin had been in the hands of the chief of the Dunbar clan for several years, although it remained an impressive seat in the earldom of Moray.
The current earl bore no relation to Aidan’s vanquished, demonic father.
He seized a passing lad of twelve years old, who was leading a cow and her calf to the outer bailey. “I am looking for a boy with dark hair and blue eyes, a bit younger than you. He is prisoner here. He might be in a tower, or even in the dungeons.”
The freckled lad blinked and looked away. “I dinna ken.”
Aidan lurked. The lad lied. No one was allowed to admit that a boy was being held prisoner in the west tower on its highest floor—if he was really there. Apparently no one had seen him, not really. He had arrived unnoticed, as if on wings.
Aidan released the lad and ran across the ward to the tower. He flung the door open and rushed up its spiral staircase. As he ran up the twisting stairs, he felt the black power above—and he felt his son’s thoughts.
I’m on the top floor, Father.
It was Ian. His boy was truly alive!
He reached the landing, blasting the armed guard there, who crumbled to the floor. “Ian!” he cried, throwing the bolts aside. He flung open the door.
Ian stood there looking exactly as he had that long-ago day when Moray had murdered him, except for the fact that he was wearing modern clothes—a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. “Father!”
Relief flooded Aidan. Tears streamed, and he rushed to his son.
He knelt and wrapped Ian in his arms, barely believing that he held his son, at last. “Are ye hurt?” He didn’t dare release him—he was afraid to.
Even as he held his small, thin body, he thought of the grown man he had just encountered.
Suddenly Ian pushed away. “I am fine,” he said firmly.
Aidan started, having the oddest feeling that he was looking into a boy’s eyes and a man’s soul. “Let’s go home, son.”
Ian nodded, his gaze dark and somber now, when a huge presence began to fill the room.
Aidan went still.
The chamber was flooded with white-gold, shimmering light, which rose up around them, flooding the entire room.
The majesty and splendor of absolute justice and power, the nearness of eternity, overcame Aidan. All was right, he somehow thought, dropping to his knees. He bowed his head. He had never felt more humble.
There was no form. Aidan wasn’t even sure there was a voice.
“Do you still wish to fight me?”
“Nay,” Aidan gasped, stunned. The father of all gods, the greatest god of all, had come to him.
“Your test was designed by the lesser gods, who can be so foolish. But I designed your Fate.”
Aidan didn’t move, eyes closed, tears falling.
“You recovered your son. Others are not so fortunate, and evil preys on the children in every time, in every place. You will protect them.”
Of course he would.
“I leave this memory with you because it will serve you well now. Never forget this day and the days before it.”
Aidan slowly looked up.
The god had a form now.
Aidan trembled.
“You are my chosen people,” the greatest of gods said softly. “And I have chosen you.”
brIE WALKED INTO AIDAN’S bedchamber at Awe.
She’d leapt back with Royce and Allie shortly after Moray’s destruction.
Aidan had gone to find Ian. Royce had spoken with Frasier, who agreed to take Aidan’s offer to King James and recommend that the king accept it.
Royce said Frasier was a devout, honest and fair man.
He thought a bargain could be arranged; Aidan had a great army to offer the king. This was the least of Brie’s worries.
God, MacNeil’s cryptic words made so much sense now.
Aidan had chosen to die, but then her love had made him choose to live.
And they wouldn’t have been able to change his execution if it hadn’t been one big, fat mistake to begin with.
Brie didn’t know how his true Fate had gotten messed up, but if there was an explanation, she’d figure it out.
She went to the window and stared out at Loch Awe.
It was a beautiful, sunny winter day, with the snow coating the shore and hanging thick on the pine trees, the loch gleaming sapphire blue, the mountains capped silver-white against the blue sky. From where she stood she could see the bridge that led to that shore—and it was intact.
She trembled. Aidan had chosen to live, and by now, or shortly, he would be reunited with his son. She did not want to ever visit Loch Awe again and see Castle Awe in ruins.
Brie walked over to the fireplace, where a servant had a huge blaze roaring. She was uncertain. Just where did she fit in, now that she’d saved Aidan’s life and redeemed his soul?
He was starting over. He had a new journey to make.
Brie knew he’d rejoin the Brotherhood. But Ian had suffered terribly, and father and son were reuniting after a tragically long time.
She wanted to stay and help them recover their relationship.
It wasn’t going to be easy, because Ian was probably going to turn into a grown man in a few days, weeks or months.
She didn’t blame Ian for his enmity. Like Aidan, he could and would heal, wouldn’t he? She shivered. Someone else would have to take on Ian if he remained as dark and bitter in the past as he’d been in the future. It had been her destiny to heal Aidan.
Brie flushed. Healing Aidan was only a part of why she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay because she loved him so much that it hurt.
She inhaled. He hadn’t asked her to stay. Even if he did, she should be sensible and go home. He cared for her—she was certain—but for how long? She had to face that it was going to hurt even more when he one day decided to pursue a really beautiful woman. They’d shared so much, but…
She didn’t finish her thought. She felt unbearably saddened when she should have been thrilled.
And then she felt so much hot, blazing male desire and power that she whirled. Aidan.
Aidan stood in the doorway, his eyes bright and bold with interest. He still wanted her. Her desire spun, joining his.
“Did you find him?” she whispered. It was hard to speak, because she knew exactly what he had on his mind. He had come to take her to bed and she couldn’t wait to be in his powerful embrace. She’d worry about going home in the morning.
For one moment, he simply stared at her, and then she saw his hands move to his sword belt. He unbuckled it as he entered the chamber, leine bulging, laying the swords and belt carefully upon the chest.
Brie took a breath. Her body had fired, everywhere, but her heart wept. She had never thought anyone could be so happy and so sad at once.
“Aye, lass, I found him.” He gave her a solemn look.
Brie knew what the sober glance meant. “Is he okay?” she managed carefully.