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Magnus led his army across a snowy plain. In the distance, the gorge was nothing but a black line drawn on the pure-white ground. Once they crossed the gorge and climbed the hill on the other side, they would be able to see the fortress.
In his mind, he rehearsed what he would say to the children. Apology first, then assurance that from now on, they would have a say in their futures. He would provide them opportunities to voice their fears and ideas. He would explain to them why certain laws existed, how the laws protected them all and honored Danu. No longer would they feel so powerless that they considered making an independent future for themselves apart from the safety of Chroina.
They would come home willingly once they understood.
Then he would speak with Danu. He did not know whether he owed her an apology for making her his lifemate or if she would celebrate their union. If she despised him for what he’d done, perhaps Assaph could undo it. If she rejoiced, perhaps they could find a way to be together now and again. After all, legend said she had visited Lachlan. It had happened at the very promontory where he had confronted Hyrk. Surely, if they were mated, she would set aside time to visit him.
He prayed she would forgive him and rejoice over what had been done. The thought of living out his life apart from her left him with a hollow sensation in his chest.
But matters of the heart must be put aside. Every sense he’d honed as a tracker and hunter told him they were being watched. Though he could spot no enemies hiding in the hills, he felt malice in the air. The sound of Hyrk’s laughter as it had echoed through the canyon haunted his memory.
Beneath his armor, Danu’s moonstone heated near to the point of pain. His entire body went on alert. “Be ready,” he said to Riggs.
His second drew his axe, a fearsome-looking double-headed weapon large enough to split a boar in two. “Yes, Sire,” the knight said, and he swept the hills with a wary gaze.
Suddenly, a vision came upon him.
Imposed over the bright winter hills was the great hall he’d seen in his dream last night. The double image disoriented him, and he staggered.
Riggs steadied him with a firm grip on his shoulder. “Sire? Are you well?”
“A vision,” he said, but his voice faded from his hearing. The snow and trees around him faded, as did Riggs. He stood in the fire-lit hall of dark stone. The children were gathered near the end farthest from the twin doors, where a platform had been erected. They all gazed up at Alexander, who sat upon a throne with his arms spread in a gesture of grandeur. His eyes glowed red.
“Here they come,” Alexander said. He grinned, and Magnus recognized the twisted expression. Hyrk was controlling the boy. Red gaze fixed on the heavy timber doors, he said, “Brace yourselves, children. You are about to witness true greatness.”
The children murmured and shifted on their feet. Toward the front of the pack stood Ruben, Craiden, and Julian. The three older boys traded expressions of discomfort.
“My plan is working,” Hyrk said. “They are all here.” The evil laugh following the proclamation echoed in the hall as if it had come from all around.
“We have to stop this,” Ruben said.
“He’s mad,” Craiden said.
“No,” Julian said. “He’s possessed.”
The doors at the front of the hall burst open. Flurries of swirling snow circled a hooded figure in a black cloak. The children huddled together. Behind the figure were more than a dozen larger figures, each cloaked, their features hidden. But Magnus noticed wolf-like snouts protruding from many of the hoods.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Alexander said, his voice no longer Hyrk’s. His eyes were the silvery-blue he’d inherited from Ari. “We found something of yours and have been keeping it safe for you. Ruben!” Alexander spotted Ruben and motioned him forward. “Go get her pet,
he commanded. “So he may be returned safely to his owner.”
Her? While Magnus watched, the foremost cloaked figure peeled back its hood. A waterfall of hair the bright color of autumn leaves fell around slender shoulders. A woman!
Ruben left the hall at a run, his two friends watching him go.
At the entrance, the woman narrowed her haunting silver eyes. The unique color reminded Magnus of Bantus’s eyes.
“The wolf is not my pet,” she bit out. “He’s my brother.” She flipped a corner of her cloak over her shoulder, revealing a crossbow hanging at her side. A quiver of short arrows hung from her hip. “You weren’t keeping him safe for me. You held him prisoner to get me to come to you. Well. I’m here now.” She raised the weapon and aimed it at Alexander.
Alexander held up his hands. If the news of the wolf being the woman’s brother surprised him, he showed no sign of it. It certainly surprised Magnus. Alexander also showed no fear of the weapon. He smiled disarmingly. “Now, now. We are your new neighbors. We only wanted to introduce ourselves. Come in. Take off your cloaks and enjoy the fires. We are preparing dinner and have plenty to share—”
Ruben burst from a doorway behind the platform and ran to Alexander. Between panting breaths, he said, “The wolf’s...gone...escaped...cage opened.”
“What?” Finally, something had surprised Alexander. “What do you mean escaped? How can a wolf escape? Unless someone freed him.” He glowered at Ruben, who held up his hands in a show of innocence.
“He’s not a wolf,” the woman said, her gaze hard as ice. “And you are not our neighbors. You are trespassers.” Shifting her weapon, she let one of her arrows fly.
Heart in his throat, Magnus tried to run toward Alexander, but his body would not cooperate. All he could do was watch as the arrow hit its mark. Not Alexander, but Ruben.
At Alexander’s side, Ruben lurched, wide-eyed. His hands clawed at his neck. Protruding from his throat was the arrow’s brown fletching. Gaping silently, he stumbled to the floor.
The woman grinned and notched another arrow. She advanced on the children, her cohort following. Hoods peeled back one by one, revealing monstrous faces that appeared half wolf and half man. King Bantus had a face like that, the lower half more of a snout than a wolfkind mouth.
The whites of Alexander’s eyes showed his fear. It seemed he had not expected violence. Foolish lad. “Come, now,” he said in a wavering voice.
“Enough talking,” the woman said. “We did not come for conversation. We came for blood.”
“Draw arms!” Alexander shouted. “Protect your ruler!”
The children stared, wide-eyed as the monstrous beings closed around them.
“Fight!” Alexander shrieked.
Several children screamed.
Julian grabbed a tarnished sword from the pile near the fireplace. The weapon’s size and weight required him to use both hands to wield it. Clearly, he had no idea how to fight, but Magnus admired his courage.
Alexander tried to run from the hall, but he didn’t make it far.
Craiden grabbed him. “Stand and fight, you scabby coward! You got us into this, and you’ll damn well help get us out.”
Alexander jerked against Craiden’s hold, and then sagged. A distant stare settled over his features, like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
Craiden tried to shove a sword into his hand, but it only fell to the floor.
Alexander nodded. “Of course,” he muttered. He pulled something from his pocket and lifted his clasped hands over his head. A red glow emanated from his hands and shone through the hall. “I call on the powerful Hyrk, god of darkness! Take physical form and come to our aid!”
The hall went still for a moment as Alexander’s voice echoed unnaturally.
The gemstone floated from his hands and spun in the air, casting shards of blood-red light around the hall. Then, with a whizzing sound, it sped through one of the windows high in the walls.
A bone-rattling screech cut through the hall, coming from outside. A shadow passed over the boys as something very large moved through the sky close to the hall.
Magnus turned to look out the windows. Blocking out the wintry clouds with its giant wingspan was a soaring dragon, the likes of which should only exist in legend. Reddish brown scales and crimson, slitted eyes flashed as, with the sound of wind in sails, the beast swooped low over the fortress then out of sight.
The vision cleared. Magnus gasped a lungful of cold air. “The children,” he said to Riggs. “They’re in danger.” It hadn’t been a dream. None of it had. He knew it with a certainty he couldn’t explain.
Riggs and the other men who had gathered around him looked to the sky. “They’re going to have to wait,” Riggs said. “Because so are we.”
An unholy roar cut through the winter air.
Magnus followed Riggs’s gaze. The dragon from his vision flew toward them. It flapped its enormous, bat-like wings, once twice, three times as it came to a floating stop over the gorge. With a great bellow, it unleashed a plume of fire from its mouth.
“To arms!” he called, and he heard the command carried through the centuries. Sword drawn, he led the charge toward the beast.
* * * *
“Somat is happening.” Seona’s voice brought Duff out of deep thought. He had been trying not to worry about Danu, and failing miserably.
“What is it, love?” He sat up straight within the shadow of his boulder.
She rubbed her chest. “I feel queer, as if somat is pushing at me.”
He frowned, not knowing what could cause such a sensation. He searched his memory for any conversation with Danu that might shed light on Seona’s discomfort. With a start, he remembered something.
They had been making love once long ago, and during the carnal dance, she had exhaled sharply and shed a single tear. He’d thought he’d hurt her somehow, though he couldn’t imagine what a Fae could do to harm a goddess. It was more likely she’d hurt herself, since she’d been riding him like a glorious cavalrywoman, all flowing blond locks and bouncing tits.
He’d paused in his thrusting. “All right, love?”
She waved away his concern, though her mood had shifted. Her pace had been fast, as if she’d been sprinting in a race. But she slowed. Lowering herself into his arms, she breathed into his neck. “I’ve lost one,” she whispered. “When my people die, their moonsouls return to me.”
He knew how much she loved her people.
Stroking her hair back from her face, he kissed her. “I’m sorry, love.”
“I’m used to it,” she said, but their lovemaking continued more tenderly than before. Perhaps she was used to it, but it still affected her.
Returning to the present, he watched through the bars as Seona clutched her robes over her chest. Her brow furrowed with pain. Could it be she was feeling a moonsoul as it sought eternal rest? He wished he’d paid closer attention when Danu had mentioned the phenomenon. But then again, he’d had other things on his mind.
“I think you’re feeling a wolfkind death. You’re their goddess, now.”
Wide eyes blinked at his shadow. Her brows lowered. “I doona like it. How do I make it cease?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. Perhaps, try letting it in?”
She grimaced. “Och, I doona want a dead soul inside me!”
“I doubt they remain there, love. Danu would have provided her mortals with a path to heaven. Perhaps she, herself—or rather now you—serve as the gateway.”
She wrinkled her nose, the thought obviously distasteful to her. With a sigh, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Well.” She tapped her foot. “How do I let the bloody thing in?”
Duff pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dearest. This is not a mosquito we are talking about. It is a soul. A soul you have charge over. Tell me you feel the weight of that. Tell me you have an ounce of compassion somewhere in that bruised heart of yours.” He did not blame this woman for the wounds she’d suffered, but he’d be damned if he didn’t challenge her when she let bitterness and selfishness rule her emotions.
“Compassion? You speak to me of compassion when I’ve been lied to and used by every man whose path I’ve crossed? How dare you scold me? You’re no different from the rest!”
He shot to his feet within his shadow. Anger pulsed through him. “How dare I? How dare I? I dare because I’m not every man whose path you’ve crossed. I dare because I’m in love with you, you stubborn woman.”
He snapped his mouth shut, surprised he’d admitted his feelings to her.
She stilled and stared at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a groan. She staggered, clutching at her chest. “Och! ’Tis growing worse. Do somat! Help me!” She fell to her knees on the jagged stone floor, and the scent of blood rose to meet him. She must have cut her knees on the rocks.
His fists clenched and unclenched. He almost grabbed the bars, but stopped himself at the last second. He still nursed wounds from his earlier encounter with the cold-iron and was in no rush to add more. All he could do was pace within his shadow and watch as his woman became increasingly more distressed.
“What is it, love? Tell me what’s happening.” Her pain filled him with a sense of urgency, yet he was helpless to give her aid. This was intolerable!
“I doona ken!” she gasped. “’Tis like before but stronger. So much stronger. Make it cease!”
Was that one soul becoming more insistent, or were more souls seeking the peace of the afterlife? Could it be that Magnus’s army was battling Hyrk this very moment? He longed to go to the ream of wolfkind so he could know for sure, but he would not leave Seona. Not for anything.
“Hang on, love,” he said uselessly. “Just hang on.”
