Shadow Highlander

EPILOGUE

Sonya walked away from Reaghan and Galen and their joy. Reaghan had returned to life, but only because of her own spell. Had Reaghan not lived, Sonya wasn’t sure what Galen would have done to her.

Just as Sonya had feared for months, when she had needed her magic most, it had deserted her. Sonya stared at her hands. Her magic was part of her. Without it, who was she?

With Reaghan and Galen headed back to the castle, the others searched for anyone left alive. Sonya was sick to her stomach to see the number of Druids from her home who had been killed. If only she had known sooner, Broc and Fallon could have brought them safely to the castle as they had done with Reaghan and her village.

She wondered what could have prompted them to leave their home. The Druids Broc had saved were in the castle, and Sonya couldn’t wait to look for Anice. Her sister would have the answers to the questions that plagued her.

But it would have to wait. Sonya needed to gather her magic, and push aside her fear. There were those who would need to be healed, and everyone would expect her to use her magic.

Sonya had to make sure she was able to heal them. She wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eye if she couldn’t. A tremor of foreboding raced down her spine, but she refused to listen to it.

She stepped over decapitated wyrran and dead MacClures as she checked a Druid for life. “Another gone,” she murmured.

As she stood, Sonya caught sight of Broc slowly falling to his knees beside a Druid. He raised his haunted gaze to Sonya. The hurt, the grief she saw reflected in his depths propelled her forward.

Sonya lifted her skirts and hurried toward him. When she neared him, she paused at the torment etched on his face. The way he held the Druid, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, caused a flare of envy.

“Sonya, she needs you,” Broc pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

Sonya pushed aside her jealousy. And then she saw the face of her sister. All the hope, all the joy she had been holding inside to share with Anice shattered in an instant.

It was all Sonya could do to suck in a breath to her starved lungs. Sonya covered her mouth with her hand, unable to believe it was her sister.

“Sonya!” Broc bellowed. “Use your healing.”

Sonya knelt beside her sister and put her hand on Anice’s chest. No breath moved in Anice’s body. “I cannot help her, Broc. My magic does not work on those already gone.”

“She’s no’,” Broc stated. “Heal her.”

Sonya rose, her knees threatening to buckle for a second time that day, and took a step back. Anice had spoken of a Broc, but Sonya had believed her sister had invented him. How wrong she had been?

“How do you know my sister?” Sonya asked.

“Heal her,” Broc said, his voice low and menacing. “You cannot allow Anice to die when you have the magic to help her.”

“She’s beyond my magic. She’s gone.”

Broc hugged Anice to him. “You failed her, Sonya!”

His words were like flails on a whip, striking at the most tender places inside Sonya. What was worse was that Broc was right. She had failed. She could have saved her sister if she had not been hiding in the dungeon.

Sonya looked up at the imposing structure of MacLeod Castle. She didn’t belong there anymore.

She backed away step by step from Broc, but he paid her no heed. His attention was on Anice. The gentle way he smoothed away her sister’s hair from her face was like a dagger to Sonya’s heart. Broc had known her sister.

And he had kept it a secret from Sonya.

What a fool she had been, to have any feelings for the Warrior. She had thought him brave to spy on Deirdre and risk his own life. She had been deceived. In the most heinous of ways.

At the village Sonya turned her back on the castle, on the life she had hoped to build there, and dashed into the forest.

Galen rubbed his temples as he sat beside Reaghan in the great hall. It was difficult for him to see her up and moving about as if she hadn’t had a spear in her spine just a few hours earlier.

While he and the other Warriors had cleaned their land of dead wyrran and MacClures, Reaghan and the Druids had seen to the wounded.

Now, they all gathered in the hall to hear what Reaghan had to say.

“You remember everything? Through all the years?” Galen asked, still unable to believe it.

“Aye,” Reaghan said. “Each ten years when the spell would work, it was like a wall went up in my mind, blocking everything. With my spell shattered, those walls are gone.”

Marcail shook her head in wonder. “How did you survive dying?”

“When we were in the dungeon using our magic to heal Odara I heard chanting.”

“Ah,” Marcail said with a smile. “It’s beautiful, is it not?”

Reaghan inhaled deeply as she thought of the soothing cadence of the chant. “While I heard the chant, I also heard my father. He poured words into my mind, words I couldn’t understand. It took so long to unlock a few, but I knew he was trying to tell me how to break the spell. Then I found Braden gone.”

“And you left the castle,” Galen said.

“I did,” Reaghan admitted. “I think the spell began to break as soon as we left Loch Awe. It broke a little more when I used magic against Mairi, and then again when I used the magic for Odara. It was while I lay dying, my mind drifting to a realm I otherwise probably couldn’t reach, that I realized how to end the spell.”

Camdyn asked, “Death?”

“Nay. It was magic. I called forth my magic, all of it. I must have done it right before my last breath left me.”

Isla smiled and folded her hands atop the table. “Very potent magic for sure.”

“And the spell?” Cara asked. “It had to have been a very powerful spell.”

Reaghan sighed and leaned against Galen. She was so glad he was near. She was glad the spell was broken, but it brought back memories that would pain her for a lifetime.

Fallon shifted in his chair. “Maybe you should start from the beginning, Reaghan.”

Reaghan looked to Galen and then around the table at the Druids and Warriors who waited to hear what she had to say. “Long ago Druids were as common to Scotland as heather. There were large groups as well as smaller groups. The larger the gathering of Druids, the more magic.”

“Aye,” Isla agreed.

“My village consisted of over four hundred Druids,” Reaghan explained. “We were the largest. And the ones most hidden. Our home was in the valley of Foinaven Mountain and shielded many times over by magic. If you didn’t know the way or the magic needed to gain entrance, you could never find it.”

Duncan whistled. “Are there still Druids there?”

Reaghan reached below the table and locked hands with Galen. “For centuries we lived in quiet seclusion. Every so often a Druid would come to us for protection.”

“Protection from what?” Quinn asked.

“Deirdre. Her power was growing faster than any of us could have guessed. We thought we had time to combat her.”

Ramsey crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “You had something to use against her.”

It wasn’t a question. “We did. Every one of our Druids knew. It was a secret shared because everyone had used their magic. Somehow Deirdre was able to sway one of the Druids to her side. Deirdre learned we had a secret, but what, she didn’t know. Though the spy had been swayed, at the last moment, he must have realized what he had done. He took his own life before he could give Deirdre more information.”

“But the worst had already been done,” Arran said.

Reaghan licked her lips. “Deirdre had learned of our location. She came with her wyrran. So many were killed. Deirdre didn’t realize that any one of the Druids could have told her what she wanted. She and her wyrran murdered so many. Others, afraid of what Deirdre would do to them, took their own lives.”

Galen’s hand squeezed hers, giving her comfort with such a small gesture.

“What happened next?” Fallon urged.

“There were only a handful of us left. My father and I along with two very young girls and their parents. The girls were too young to know of our secret, but it didn’t stop Deirdre from taking them. The parents…” She paused to clear her throat. “The father died fighting the wyrran, and the mother threw herself from the mountain.”

“Which left you and your father,” Galen said.

Reaghan nodded. “We ran as fast as we could. We kept away from other Druids. I fought against the plan my father had, but it soon became clear it was the only way.”

Cara’s brow furrowed as she asked, “What was the plan?”

“My father convinced me to use a spell that would erase my memories and continue doing so every ten years so that I could fit in with the Druids of Loch Awe. They agreed to take us in, and lent their magic to my father’s plan.”

She paused, unsure if she could go on. The pain and loss threatened to swallow her whole.

“It can wait,” Lucan said.

“Nay, I need to finish.” Reaghan glanced at Galen before she continued. “I didn’t know the spell was so powerful there would be a price for using it. My father knew if he had told me I would refuse. He used all of his considerable magic to push the spell, but in granting me immortality it took his life.”

Galen pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head.

“What was so important that your father would give his own life, as well as put such a spell on you?” Odara asked.

Reaghan straightened and looked around the table again. “There are a few reasons. One, because of the strength of my magic. If Deirdre got a hold of it, it would increase hers tenfold.”

“Which we doona need,” Ian murmured.

Lucan ran a hand across his jaw. “And the other?”

“I alone know the location of Deirdre’s sister, Laria.”

The silence was deafening.

“Her sister?” Quinn repeated, disbelief in every syllable.

Reaghan nodded. “Her twin, to be exact. Deirdre thought she was the one who received all the magic. They were raised in a small community of droughs made up mostly of family members. When Deirdre killed her aunt then caused the rest of the members to turn on each other, Laria walked away.”

“I cannot imagine Deirdre allowing anyone to go free,” Isla said.

“It was thought Laria had no magic, so she never underwent the ceremony to become drough,” Reaghan explained. “Laria sought my village when she saw how quickly Deirdre was coming into the black magic. The Druids granted her request to join them, and she lived there for almost five years before Deirdre began to look for her. We had a seer who told Laria she was the one who could stop Deirdre.”

Camdyn shook his head in confusion. “How? Deirdre has used black magic to become immortal. Did Laria do the same?”

“Nay. The mies of my village had exceptionally strong magic. Together they devised a plan. They would put Laria under a spell. She is essentially frozen in time, hidden in the mountains. Members of my family are the only ones who can unlock a portion of the tomb and since I’m the last, I’m the artifact.”

“A portion?” Ian asked.

“Aye. From what my father told me, Laria is entombed in a maze.”

Cara asked, “Why not just have Laria battle Deirdre right then if the seer knew Laria could defeat her?”

“It is Laria who will defeat Deirdre, but Laria is supposed to have help in the form of a rather powerful male Druid who comes from the Torrachilty Forest.”

Arran frowned. “What if this male Druid was already born and dead?”

“I don’t believe it will matter. The Druids there, especially the males, were supposed to be some of the most powerful.”

Galen blew out a long breath. “And the dreams you were having?”

“My memories of places and people I had known.”

“So you saw Deirdre?” Broc asked.

Reaghan shuddered just thinking about it. “I had to go near Cairn Toul as I left my home. It was the safest, easiest way. I stayed far enough away, but I did see her when she came out of the mountain.”

Galen folded his hand over hers. “It’s over now.”

“Actually, it’s just beginning.” Reaghan looked at Fallon. “You sent Galen and Logan to find the artifact, to find me. Now that I have my memories back along with my magic, we need to awaken Laria to end Deirdre.”

Duncan stood. “Then let’s go.”

Reaghan cringed and bit her lip. “It’s not quite so simple, I’m afraid. There are other objects we will need to obtain to work our way through the maze to Laria.”

“Do you know what the objects are?” Galen asked.

“We need to begin on the Isle of Eigg.”

As the hall erupted in conversation, Reaghan turned to Galen. “With my spell broken, I’m no longer immortal.”

“You being mortal doesna stop me loving you. I’m no’ saying we’ll have an easy go of it, but I’m no’ about to give you up because you aren’t immortal.”

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I also suppose this means you will worry about me?”

“Endlessly,” he vowed, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“As long as I’m able to worry about you.”

“I have something to tell you,” Galen said.

She raised a brow. “And what might that be?”

“I finally have control over my power.”

Reaghan threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. She leaned back and asked, “How?”

“I gave in to my god and the power during the battle. I didna try to back away from it. Somewhere amid all the killing, I discovered I could touch anyone and feel none of their thoughts or emotions. I still have the ability to feel thoughts, but to do so I have to put more effort into it.”

“I would never have thought giving in to your power would help you control it.”

He shook his head. “Me either. I’m just glad I can live a normal life now. Or as normal as a Warrior can.”

“Want to read my mind to see what I’m thinking about?”

“Nay. Tell me,” he urged as he nuzzled her neck.

“You, our future, and our love.”

Two days after the battle, Broc still felt the loss of Anice as if it had just occurred. He had looked for her among the Druids, searching for her so he could bring her to the castle. How had he missed her?

He regretted his words to Sonya even more. He needed to find her and apologize. It wasn’t her fault Anice had died. If it was anyone’s burden to carry, it was his. He should have looked for Anice first, but he had assumed he would spot her in the pandemonium of battle.

How wrong he had been.

Broc left his chamber and descended the stairs to the great hall. The women were smiling, laughing, as they brought out the morning meal. One more Warrior had found his woman, adding to the love and laughter that was MacLeod Castle.

Broc was happy for Galen, but his own self-recriminations stopped him from celebrating with the others.

He waited for Sonya to exit the kitchens, hoping to catch her for a moment of privacy. Broc had been to her chamber many times over the last few days, but not once had she been there to hear his apology.

One by one the women exited the kitchens. When they sat and began to pass the food, a cold numbness began in Broc’s stomach.

“Where is Sonya?” he asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Cara shrugged. “I went to her chamber yesterday, but she wasn’t there. I thought she needed some time alone after Anice’s death.”

“I haven’t seen her since the attack,” Reaghan said.

Marcail nodded. “Me either.”

One by one, everyone in the hall said the same thing. The last time Sonya had been seen was the day of the attack. The day Broc had blamed her for Anice’s death.

The food was forgotten as the castle and surrounding area were searched. Broc had held out hope someone would find her, but it wasn’t until he used his power that he realized she wasn’t in the castle or village.

“We need to look for her,” Fallon said.

Broc walked on unsteady legs across the great hall. The words he had said to Sonya replayed over and over in his head. “I will search for her. I will find her. And I will bring her back.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He strode from the castle and let his god loose. As soon as his wings spread he flew toward the sky, opening his power to find the one woman who had the ability to tear his heart to pieces.

*

Malcolm refused to look back at MacLeod Castle as he began his new journey. He had walked the land night after night, day after day, seeking a reason to go on.

Seeking a reason to remain.

He was of no use to anyone with just one arm. He couldn’t fight beside the Warriors, and he refused to hide with the women. He was a Highlander. A warrior. He would not cower.

Malcolm knew he should have left a note for Larena, but he hadn’t. She had a life and a good man in Fallon MacLeod. Malcolm owed Fallon and the other Warriors a great debt for giving him a home.

He had observed the battle from the forest, wishing he could help the Warriors, yearning to have a sword in his hand. But he knew if he stepped into the fight, a Warrior would drag him away. It would be done to help, yet the gesture would disgrace Malcolm even more.

So he kept to his hideaway and watched. Once the Warriors had defeated the MacClures and the few remaining wyrran had run off, Malcolm decided it was time to leave the castle.

Strapped to his waist was a sword he’d found in the castle armory. He’d learned to swing a weapon with either arm, but Malcolm was determined to either gain the use of his right arm again, or die. Either would do.

He no longer cared.