Highland Sorcerer (10 page)

"I don't like it."

"Do ye think I'm enamored with your
part in it?" Edeen countered. "Ye have to grab the guard in the
first place whilst I merely retrieve what we need from his
mind."

"Ye're my sister. I do not want ye
probing minds of strange men."

"For the love of—" Edeen threw her
hands up. "Now ye sound like Shaw and Toren."

"In this 'tis well I do."

Edeen crossed her arms beneath her
breasts. "'Tis not. And for the matter, I do not want my younger
brother risking himself against the witch's guard."

"Hired mercenary I could take in my
sleep. Do ye think I cannot?"

"No," Edeen conceded, laying her palm
on his arm. "I believe in your skill. As I request ye to believe in
mine. 'Tis for Toren we do this."

Oh nicely played. Charity was impressed
with how easily Edeen manipulated her sibling.

"Fine." Col pulled against Edeen's hand
like a hare would pull at a snare. "But ye two stay put." He
shifted into a patch of thicker brush and turned back, poking a
finger at the air. "I mean it. Remain in this spot."

"We will," Charity and Edeen sang out
in unison and then looked at each other.

"Will he be all right?" Charity asked,
worry for the young man clamping around her chest.

"Col, aye. He's a crafty one. Been
sneaking around, catching us all unawares since he was of the age
his abilities came upon him. He favors sneaking in as a rat and
then shifting suddenly into a bear or lion. Will likely more than
not cause the poor guard to swoon."

About fifteen minutes later they heard
rustling in the bushes. Edeen slid a slender knife from her belt,
perfectly hidden along the leather, which Charity glanced at with a
touch of envy. Why hadn't she been given a weapon? Why hadn't she
thought to ask for one? Because she didn't generally wander around
Seattle armed. That's why.

Some kind of bird chirped and Edeen's
posture relaxed. She shoved the knife back beneath her thick belt,
out of sight.

Col lumbered into view with a guardsman
draped across his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Is he hurt?" Charity ran forward to
assist in getting the guy off his shoulder.

Edeen stepped forward to help. "He's no
good to us unconscious."

Col lowered the guy and situated the
floppy arms along the man's sides. The guard looked to be in his
late thirties with a wind-chapped complexion around a rough dirty
blond beard. Old scars criss-crossed his hands.

Across the unconscious guard, Edeen
gave Charity an I-told-you-so smirk. Then to Col, "Did anyone see
you?"

"D'ye believe me daft? I nipped him
when he stole away to fill the dung heap, if ye take my
meaning."

"You can't probe his mind while he's
out?" Charity studied the man's breathing, while holding his wrist
and counting his pulse. The healer in her couldn't do
less.

"Without being pulled into his dreams,
nay." Edeen shook her head.

"'Tis too dangerous." Col slashed his
hand through the air.

Edeen's lip twisted. "I need him awake
and aware to differentiate between what's real and what are
falsehoods of a dreaming mind."

"I can help with that." Charity smiled.
Finally something she could do.

Col and Edeen both nodded and warmth
swelled through Charity's chest at the tiny bit of trust thrown her
way.

"Let me first." Col pulled thin twine
from a crude pouch hanging from his belt and made quick work of
tying the man's wrists together. "Go ahead."

Charity tried the direct approach first
and tapped the guard's cheek. "Hey, wake up." His head rolled to
the side.

Col's expression turned bland. "I could
have done that."

Charity shrugged and this time placed
her palm over the man's chest and concentrated on bringing the core
of her magic up into her fingertips. She just needed a little burst
of healing to buzz him with, just enough to refresh him and make
his body feel well rested and energized. She and her sister boosted
each other all the time during a harried day at the herb shop,
especially when Lenore had scheduled back-to-back massages with a
long day on her feet. Worked better than a five-hour energy
drink.

The magic coursed through her
and—exploded. Magic ripped through her. The guard jerked beneath
her hand like a man zapped with CPR paddles. He fell back and his
eyes snapped open, bulging.

Col held him down. "What did ye
do?"

"She's not accustomed to so much magic
flowing through her." Edeen explained. "In her time, there is not a
steady source of magic."

Col's head wrenched up, his forehead
furrowed. Charity imagined what he must be thinking, the
ramifications of little magic left in the world because of what his
people were about to go through with.

"What are ye about? What's going on?"
The guard thrashed against Col.

"I didn't know. Is he okay?" She'd
thought piggy-backing on Toren's magic was intense, but this was,
this was…like riding a thunder cloud pulling magic from the fabric
woven in the air. And sun. And earth all together—and it flowed
into her own core—into herself…she'd never felt anything like it.
Imagine what she would be able to heal or cure with this kind of
magical source in her own time? Cancer. Arthritis. Spinal
injuries.

"He's fine," Edeen assured. "Startled
is all." That made two of them. Edeen placed her palms upon the
man's temples while Col held him steady.

The guy's eyes practically bugged out
of his skull. "Stay away from me, witch. Get back." With his hands
bound and occupied by Col, the guard started kicking.

Charity promptly sat on his legs and
got bucked around while Edeen managed to stay perfectly still and
focused.

The air hummed with the distinct
vibration of magic being used.

Loose strands of Edeen's hair lifted
like they were caught in static from a balloon.

The guard quieted. His face
relaxed.

Edeen withdrew her hands from his head
and smiled. "I have it."

That was quick. "Have what exactly?"
Charity asked.

"The corridors we need to take to
Toren's cage, the location of the keys, and where the postern door
is. D'ye believe Aldreth's arrogance has her post only one guard
where the kitchen help throws out the slop?" Her smile was dazzling
and dangerous. "We can do this."

Charity grinned back. It was a crazy
foolish plan with little chance of success, but coming here through
time had been impossibly crazy as well.

"Gods spare us all." Col's forehead
crinkled.

They were going into the witch's
lair.

Chapter
Fourteen

Shaw slammed his dirk into the tree,
forearm vibrating at the impact.

Toren was lost to them and that thought
alone brought a pain so intense to his chest he barely remained
standing under it. He'd be damned before he lost his younger
siblings as well.

"'Tis as ye thought." Donnan scratched
at his chin beneath the red beard. Though his magic was attuned to
calling tumultuous storms, he bore the patience of a rock. "Their
tracks lead off toward the witch's castle. We'll go after them in
all haste."

Shaw nodded, the muscles of his throat
clamping tight. He swallowed around them. "Take Hugh and Angus
only. Go as far as the burn."

Donnan swung around, shock scrunching
his features. "And if they’ve traveled past the burn? Ye do not
mean to leave them."

Shaw yanked his blade free of the tree.
"If they've gone beyond the stream, ye'll not reach them before the
witch. They'll be beyond our reach."

"Then we'll
bluidy
well go in after
them." The usually quiet warrior thundered like the storm summoner
he was. "All of them. As we meant to do."

Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose
between forefinger and thumb. He'd like nothing more. In truth, his
blood burned to force his way into the gray keep and avenge the
wrongs Aldreth had already inflicted upon Toren. The thought of his
brother suffering under her hand—

Fury sang through Shaw's veins,
stirring the latent magic always rumbling just beneath his skin.
It'd take the barest loosening of his control to let it flare out
of him and destroy all those he held dear.

As a family, the Limonts were the tip
of the sword that the world's magic between good and evil balanced
upon. As an entire clan, they were the sword.

As a Moon Sifter, the only one born
within five centuries, Shaw struggled hourly with his own internal
balance, perpetually holding the overpowering force of his innate
magic at bay.

No one, not even his siblings knew the
strength of what flowed through him. He'd never unleashed it fully
for any to sense the tidal power within.

Once Aldreth managed to turn Toren,
what was left of the magic in this world would be overcome by
darkness. Darkness would enshroud his people. A chill raced down
Shaw's spine at the dire foreboding, yet even turning a sorcerer as
powerful as Toren would be nothing should Aldreth discover what lay
beneath his own surface.

Should Aldreth get her hands on his
magic—he squeezed his eyes against the building headache—the force
within him would do more than disrupt the balance. Far, far
more.

"How would we free Toren?" he said to
Donnan. His voice sounded as defeated as he felt. "The witch has
spelled herself to him. My brother cannot use magic against
her."

Donnan's face fell. "Mayhap the young
lass and lad can find a way…?"

Shaw's heart pulled, worry and grief
tearing at it with serrated teeth. The witch would take them, use
them to further break Toren.

"Go, Donnan. Go now and bring them
back." Everything inside Shaw screamed to go after them himself,
save the last of his family, but he locked his knees, steeled his
heart.

Donnan nodded. "And you?"

Fist clenched hard at his sides, Shaw
revolted at his next words. "I'm gathering the clan. Meet us at the
standing stones."

The ruddy man's complexion went
completely white. "Ye mean to take our people into the Shadowrood?
Take all our magic from the land?"

Shaw's heart turned to ice. He had no
other choice. Once Toren turned, it would be the only way to keep
darkness from devouring the world. A lone tear slid along the side
of his nose. "We are the protectors."

Chapter
Fifteen

You're sure this will work?" Charity
paced from one tree to another, taking nervous glances at the
brooding castle wall beyond the heavy vegetation they hid behind.
The guardsman was trussed and gagged and stowed neatly beneath a
prickly berry bush.

Col pulled his saffron shirt off over
his head and handed it to his sister along with his stockings and
boots, leaving him in nothing but the tartan kilt sloped from waist
to knobby knees. "'Twill be well, ye'll see. Just meet me at the
postern door."

Grinning, he unhooked the pin holding
the garment in place and without giving Charity warning to look
away, unwrapped the material and let it drop. No worries about
modesty there. "And bring my clothes."

Charity turned to offer him privacy as
light erupted around Col. She twisted back, breath hitching in her
chest. "Whoa."

"'Tis beautiful, is he not?" Edeen
shone within her brother's glow.

Col hummed with energy, the soft
vibration rolled across Charity's skin. He was completely
transparent, a human shaped form made up entirely of what could
only be described as sparkling flitting fireflies. It was the most
beautiful thing Charity had ever seen.

The form stirred, expanded outward like
a heartbeat before pulling in on itself and shrinking, dwindling in
brightness.

Charity blinked.

Col was gone.

She spun around, looking for him in
animal form, her pulse revving up at his absence until Edeen lifted
her palm and a tiny brown moth darted about her fingers.

"Go safely,
bràthair
."

And the moth flew away. From the thick
vegetation, they watched it fly toward the large gates, skim over
one of the guard's shoulders and into the dark passageway where
they could no longer keep an eye on him and know how he fared
inside the witch's keep.

Charity didn't like it one
bit.

"Come along, then," Edeen said. "He'll
be waiting."

Charity scooped Col's tartan off the
ground and folded it while she caught up to Edeen. "You're
worried."

Ahead, Edeen's back stiffened. "He's my
younger brother. Of course I'm worried."

"He's never done anything like this
before, has he?"

Edeen stopped to look at her over her
shoulder. "When he shifts, there is a moment when Col is naught but
magic."