Darkest Highlander (25 page)

Broc used his claws and cut away some of the grass. “Nay, nothing.”

They stepped beneath the archway, and that’s when Broc felt the magic. It pulsed around him like a heartbeat, steady and strong.

Beside him, Sonya paused as well, a smile of contentment on her face. “You feel it now, don’t you?” she asked.

“I do.”

“This is the tomb,” she said as she turned her head to him. “I know it.”

Broc’s eyesight let him see into the semidarkness of the mound. This was different from the others they had seen. There was a feeling of a great passage of time, as though the mound had been waiting to be discovered.

“The doorway is there,” Sonya said and pointed to her left.

Broc was able to see the door, but he knew Sonya’s eyesight wouldn’t allow her to. “How?”

“The magic,” she whispered. “It is very strong. Strong, old, and so very pure. It is
mie
magic which protects this place. I’ve never felt any magic other than my own before.”

Broc didn’t want to disturb the tomb. Not because he feared what might happen to him, but because the magic and the artifact within were special.

So many Druids had died over the years. There weren’t many left, and a place that held such magic should be left alone.

“Deirdre may no’ find the tomb,” he said.

Sonya tucked a curl behind her ear and smiled sadly. “The wyrran can smell magic. It will lead them here.”

“The magic is felt more inside the archway. Outside, I barely felt it. Maybe the wyrran willna feel it either.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don’t want to open the tomb.”

It wasn’t a question. Broc shook his head. “It doesna seem right.”

“Nay, it doesn’t, but we must. If we don’t, Deirdre will find a way, regardless that she cannot enter herself. She will destroy all that is within. We will only take the artifact.”

He knew she was right, but he would rather have left the tomb undisturbed. Broc walked to the doorway and saw the many and various etchings around the door. Time had not touched them. They were as deep and clear as if they had been made the day before.

“Amazing,” Sonya said as she ran her hands over them.

Broc stood just a stride away but it was as if he was immersed in magic. It made his skin prickle and itch as it ran from his head down to his toes. Almost as if it were learning him.

Sonya moved closer and took his hand. Her magic mixed with the other. As soon as her magic touched the other, Broc felt the heaviness which had surrounded him begin to ebb.

“What did you do?” he asked.

Sonya shrugged. “Nothing. Why? What happened?”

“I could have sworn the magic was learning me and trying to decide if I was friend or foe.”

“And you think my being here helped?”

Broc looked at the etchings. “I know it did.”

“What do the markings say?”

He leaned in to read. “They are spells. They speak of violent death and certain doom if anyone enters the tomb.”

“A Druid would not put such spells around a tomb lightly. For a
mie
to have crafted such enchantments is unheard-of. We do not harm others. This would be something a
drough
would do.”

“But you felt
mie
magic.”

She nodded. “There’s no doubt as to what I felt. It is
mie
magic.”

Once again doubt spread through Broc about opening the tomb. “Deirdre cannot get inside. Neither can her wyrran. If we leave now, she might find it, but she will no’ be able to get inside.”

“She will eventually.” Sonya squeezed his hand and lifted her face to his. “The battle with Deirdre needs to end. Everyone who fights against her tyranny—Druid, mortal and Warrior alike—knows our lives could end in the fight. We have to do this.”

Broc sighed, knowing her logic was sound. “You’re right. We need to do this.”

“I need you to read me exactly what the spells say.”

Broc wasted no time in deciphering the ancient language. The more he told Sonya, the more her brow furrowed and her lips pinched. By the time he was done, she didn’t look quite as eager as before.

“It is a good thing I’m here with you,” Sonya said as she rubbed her hands together.

“Why is that?”

“Because without me you wouldn’t be able to touch the door without dying.”

Broc eyed the stone that acted as the door. “How so?”

“You were correct when you said the magic was studying you. It knows you are a Warrior. To the ancients, all Warriors were evil. They never thought there could be ones who fought against their god and did what was right.”

“So, in the mind of the Druids who put in the spells, I’m as evil as Deirdre?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why did Deirdre think I could get in?”

Sonya shrugged. “Maybe she knows a secret I do not.”

“Nay. She said me, no’ just any Warrior.”

“Interesting,” Sonya mumbled. “Maybe it has something to do with you betraying her. What did it feel like when the magic touched you?”

“My skin tingled. It was what it felt like when you allowed me to hear the trees.”

Sonya smiled then, her eyes tender as she looked at him. “If the magic wasn’t painful, then perhaps you don’t need me. It recognizes that you may have a god inside you, but you are a good man.”

“I’d rather have you with me nonetheless.”

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. “I wouldn’t dream of allowing you to go alone.”

“What do we do?”

“I’m going to touch the markings. My magic will pour inside it. Then, I want you to open the door.”

Broc gritted his teeth as Sonya stepped to the markings and placed her hands on them. He could feel her magic swell around her, engulfing him, calling to him. Tempting him.

His body reacted instantly. He had to touch her, any part of her. His hand closed around the end of her braid and held tightly.

Desire and hunger pounded through him, demanding he take Sonya amid the ancient magic, pleading with him to slake the longing which consumed him.

As if she knew what her magic did to him, she turned her amber gaze to him. Time slowed to nothing as the invisible ties that had always bound them wound tighter, pulling him closer to her, closer to the serenity she offered him.

“Broc,” she whispered.

He moved to her, unable to stay away from her beguiling eyes and tempting body. His other hand rose to slide around her neck and cup the back of her head.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and it was his undoing. Broc’s head lowered as hers rose to his. Their lips met in an explosion of hunger and yearning.

For all the urgency that surged through him, he took his time kissing her. Even with the fierce need to claim her, Broc knew what was happening to them was extraordinary and special.

Her lips were soft beneath his. Supple. Sweet. Enthralling.

A spark of something bright and sharp permeated his body with their kiss. Broc lifted his head and saw the surprise in Sonya’s eyes as well. He didn’t know what had occurred, couldn’t possibly understand.

But something had definitely happened. That something had to do with magic.

“Open the door,” Sonya bade him.

Broc reluctantly released her. He gripped the thick boulder and pulled. His muscles strained as he grunted. It was as if magic held the door, refusing to release it. He knew all too well what it felt like to have magic bind something not even his Warrior strength could budge.

A burst of magic flew from Sonya into the markings. The etchings began to glow blue the more magic Sonya used. Broc was about to tug her away, about to leave it all.

“Pull!” Sonya yelled.

He ground his teeth and gave a vicious yank. There was a loud pop as the stone gave way. Broc couldn’t believe his eyes. He stopped pulling, but the stone continued to open on its own.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

He knew what using that kind of magic could do to her body. Yet, as he looked at her, she didn’t appear to be weak. She looked … radiant.

“I know,” she said, as if reading his mind. “I feel wonderful. It’s almost as if the magic of the tomb gave me strength instead of taking it.”

Broc had seen the destructive and healing power of magic, but he had never experienced anything like what had just happened. He couldn’t even begin to put into words what had occurred.

“I wish I had a torch,” Sonya said when they stood in the doorway.

Broc took her hand. “I will be your eyes.”

But as soon as they stepped over the threshold, torches flared to life around the circular tomb one at a time until all were lit.

“God’s blood,” Broc whispered.

Sonya looked around the burial mound in awe. She shouldn’t have been surprised after having her magic strengthened by the magic guarding the tomb, but she was.

In the middle of the crypt, upon a great slab of stone, were the remains of the man. Although the flesh was gone from his bones, he still wore a faded red cloak about his shoulders.

“This is amazing,” she said and began to walk around the chamber.

Broc walked the opposite way, his gaze taking in everything. “This burial mound is easily three times the size of the others we’ve seen.”

“There are so many weapons and shields on the walls.”

“As well as baskets filled with who knows what.”

Sonya and Broc came together at the far end of the tomb and stopped. Before them was a portion of stones that had been smoothed and more of the Gaelic language etched into them.

“What does it say?” Sonya asked.

Broc rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “It speaks about a tablet called Orn.”

“What is it?”

“I think it’s the artifact. It says the tablet is on the Isle of Eigg, hidden and guarded in a stone circle.”

Sonya shifted from one foot to the other. “Does it say anything else?”

“This Tablet of Orn will give us the location to yet another artifact.”

Sonya met Broc’s gaze. The importance of their find was tremendous. “Deirdre cannot be allowed to know of this.”

“She willna,” Broc said and used his claws to scratch away the markings.

Sonya twisted her skirts in her hands. “I hope you remember everything.”

“I will.” He stepped back to look at it. “No one will ever be able to learn what was etched here. We now have what Deirdre sought. We need to leave.”

He took her hand and pulled her to the door. They were nearly there when they heard the shriek of a wyrran. Broc slid to a halt.

Sonya’s heart leapt into her throat as she stopped beside him. “We can make it to the opening and you can fly us away.”

“Nay.” Broc turned to her and took her face in his hands. “I will fight the wyrran.”

“And Deirdre? Will you fight her as well?”

“Aye.”

Sonya didn’t like his plan. “And I suppose you want me to run away?”

“I want you to stay here.”

“In this tomb?” she said louder than intended. “You must be jesting.”

“It’s the only way that I know you will be safe. Deirdre willna be able to get to you.”

“Nay, I’ll be dead.”

Broc smiled gently and pulled her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head. “Do you have such little faith in me?”

“I have a tremendous amount of faith in you.”

“I vowed I would always keep you safe, even if it meant keeping you safe from me.”

She sighed and let the warmth of his bare skin against her cheek fill her. “You have a plan?”

“I have a plan.”

“Care to share it with me?”

His chest rumbled. “And leave you nothing with which to occupy your mind?”

“Broc, please,” she said as she leaned back to look at him. “I’d rather both of us leave.”

“That’s no’ possible now. Trust me.”

The way his dark eyes held hers, as if he needed to hear her words, made her throat burn with emotion. “I do trust you.”

He gave her a quick kiss before he was gone.

Sonya barely had time to blink before he closed the door. Locking her in the tomb.

*   *   *

Broc stared at the stone door for one heartbeat, two. Inside was the woman who meant everything to him. Outside was the woman who had taken everything from him once.

He wouldn’t allow her to do it a second time.

Broc had known the moment he heard the wyrran that time had run out for them. Under no circumstances could Deirdre know about Sonya.

As much as Broc hated leaving Sonya in the tomb, it was the safest place for her.

And if you cannot get away from Deirdre? You’ve condemned her to die a horrible death.

He would get away.

There were no thoughts of any other outcome.

Deirdre couldn’t gain access to the tomb. Neither could her wyrran. They would feel magic, but it would be the magic of the tomb, not Sonya.

Broc closed his eyes and called forth an image of Sonya in his mind. Her look of complete trust, of utter faith, had rocked him.

Sonya.

She was his heart, his soul. His very breath.

Broc summoned his god and unleashed his fury. Wings sprang from his back, fangs filled his mouth, and claws shot from his fingers.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he thought of every atrocity, every slaughter Deirdre had ever committed or ordered done to the innocents of the land. He thought of the screams of the Druids she had killed, the bellows of pain from the men she had turned into Warriors.

And he thought of his family.

Poraxus growled inside him, eager for a taste of Deirdre’s blood, anxious to rip her heart from her chest. He wanted to crush her head beneath his foot, to take her essence and bury it so deep in Hell no one would ever find her.

Broc didn’t look at the door of the tomb to his back. He wiped Sonya from his mind, tucking her into a corner of his brain where he had always kept her, a place Deirdre could never touch.

Then he ducked under the archway to clear his wings and locked eyes with Deirdre.

TWENTY-EIGHT