again.”
“I’m to see that you are slowed in your attempt to reach the mountain. She does want all of you back under her control, but her attention is on breaking Quinn at the moment. There is a prophecy she was told that she thinks Quinn will fulfill,” Broc said.
“And what is that?” Fallon asked.
“She wants Quinn to give her a child. That child will house all the evil of the world. Once she has Quinn under her control, she will come for each of you.”
Ramsey strode toward Broc, stopping only when he stood in front of him. “I need to know whose side you’re on. Why are you warning us?”
“For amusement, maybe.”
Ramsey shook his head. “You forget, Broc, I know you better than anyone.”
“You knew me. It’s been a long time. Things have changed.”
“Has your hatred for Deirdre changed?”
Broc couldn’t answer him, but his silence was good enough for Ramsey.
“I didn’t think so,” Ramsey said. “Tell me the real reason Deirdre isn’t trying to capture us now.”
Broc looked past Ramsey to the other Warriors waiting for his answer. The real reason he hadn’t already sided with the MacLeods was because Deirdre had a way of learning things, and Broc wanted to be able to glean as much information from her as he could.
“I convinced her to keep her attention on Quinn,” Broc finally answered.
The next thing Broc knew, he was surrounded by Warriors. Lucan and Fallon stood on either side of Ramsey. Broc held up his hands before anyone spoke.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Deirdre’s power is immense, and she uses a seer to gain most of her information. She learns things she shouldn’t know. If you want my help, if you want Quinn freed, I cannot tell you much more.”
Fallon sighed and exchanged glances with his wife. “Then tell us what you can.”
“There are two hundred wyrran with me.”
Hayden snorted. “They’re easily killed.”
“Aye, but they will slow your progress.”
“We have no choice but to fight them,” Lucan said. He turned to Broc and asked, “Can you keep an eye on Quinn?”
Broc nodded. “When I left, Deirdre was ready to do anything to have Quinn. While in the Pit, he not only took control, but three Warriors have sided with him. She had taken one of those Warriors to torture until Quinn agreed to be hers.”
“Shite,” Fallon said. “We doona have a lot of time.”
“I will do what I can,” Broc vowed. “Until then, get to the mountain as quick as you can.”
He didn’t wait for them to respond as he flew into the air. As soon as the wyrran saw him leave, they attacked. Broc wanted to stay and help the Warriors, but he couldn’t. Deirdre had ordered him to lead the wyrran to the MacLeods and then return to her.
If he dallied too long, Deirdre would suspect something. And if he was going to help the MacLeods free Quinn, he had to be near her instead of in a dungeon.
Marcail cautiously sat up. When her stomach didn’t rebel, she slowly crawled to the basin of water and cupped her hand in the cool liquid. She was thirsty, but she was careful not to drink too much lest she upset her stomach once again.
The pounding of her head, however, wasn’t going to go away any time soon. It was an aftereffect of using her magic for as long as she had, but it had been worth it to see Duncan hale and hearty again.
Marcail used the wall to help herself stand. She looked around to make sure Arran and Duncan were occupied before she walked across the way to Charon’s cave.
As soon as she emerged from Quinn’s lair, Charon moved from the shadows. She didn’t want Arran and Duncan to know what she planned, so she moved deep into Charon’s cave.
“I’m surprised to see you up so soon,” he said.
She shrugged. “I will be all right.”
“You doona look well. You should be lying down.”
“I cannot,” she said. “We weren’t able to finish our discussion earlier.”
His lips flattened in annoyance. “There’s nothing left to say, Druid.”
“There is. I want you to tell Deirdre that I’m alive. Let her know I’m here.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “She’ll kill you.”
“I’m sure she will try. But I want you to have her bring Quinn back in exchange for me.”
Charon shook his head. “It willna work.”
“It will if you tell her I’ve remembered the spell to bind the gods.”
The Warrior went utterly still. His fists clenched and unclenched several times before he spoke. “What did you just say?”
“Buried in my mind is the spell passed down from my grandmother that will once more bind your gods.”
“I would no longer be immortal? Or have the power of my god?”
She shook her head. “Nay, you will have none of it.”
“Did Quinn know of this?”
“He did.”
Charon blew out a breath. “Now I understand why he protected you so. Tell me, Druid, why didn’t Deirdre kill you?”
“Quinn thinks my grandmother protected me somehow. None of that matters now. Will you tell Deirdre I’ve remembered the spell?”
“Nay.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
“What you have inside your mind could save us all.”
“Possibly. If I ever remember it. That’s a chance I’m not willing to take. If you want out of this place and away from Deirdre, then you should have aligned yourself with Quinn.”
He sliced his hand through the air to stop her. “You’ve been in the Pit for a matter of days. You have no idea what any of us have gone through at Deirdre’s hands. There is only one person I care about in all of this and that’s me. Quinn didna give me a reason to side with him. Deirdre did.”
Marcail could only stare at him, amazed anyone could be so selfish. “I feel sorry for you.”
“I doona want your sympathy, Druid.”
“What do I have that I can give you so that you will tell Deirdre what I want?”
He turned his back to her. “There is nothing you have that could tempt me.”
Marcail, feeling more defeated than when Dunmore had captured her, turned to leave. There was a loud, vicious growl near her. The next thing she knew, Charon had her against the wall as he used his body to shield her from the attack.
His arms were braced on either side of her head, and his big body prevented her from seeing who had attacked. She winced when Charon threw his head back and bellowed as he was hit from behind. Again and again she heard the claws ripping through his copper flesh, but not once did he budge from protecting her.
If anyone had asked her a moment before if she thought Charon would save her life, she would have said nay.
Marcail chanced a glance around Charon’s thick shoulder and saw the white skin of Arran. “Stop it,” she yelled, but Arran and Charon’s growls drowned her out.
“Arran, stop,” she tried again.
Charon turned around as Arran leapt at him. The two Warriors met with a bonecrushing thud. They fell to the ground and rolled around, their claws leaving trails of blood in their wake.
All Marcail could do was watch in horror.
Suddenly, Arran jumped to his feet. He stood in a crouched position, his white Warrior eyes trained on Charon. Once Charon gained his feet they began to circle each other.
Arran was the first to attack. He sunk his claws deep into Charon’s chest as his fangs flashed. Charon gripped Arran’s arms in an effort to pull the claws out.
