Highland Sorcerer

  Aldreth will have to go through me to get at Toren.

  Her voice fluttered around his consciousness like gauzy ribbons of silk. He'd sensed that conviction earlier. I will save you.

  Toren panted around the sharpness in his side, his breaths too shallow to fully expand his burdened lungs. He was at once excruciatingly hot then brutally cold. Long shivers seized muscles that brought more pain, more torture. His back was an inferno. A copper warmth coated the back of his throat.

  He swam against the current in a sea of delirium, uncomprehending of what was truly real.

  Aldreth had won. Madness had taken him and now she would be able to take his magic as easily as plucking an egg from a nest.

  He couldn't think, could do naught but tense his body, clench uncooperative muscles to stave off the burning agony that was his flesh. To make it stop, to climb out of this pit, he would promise her anything. Nay, he could not give in. He must endure, let it consume him.

  "Toren, I'm going to fix this." The soothing voice crooned across his forehead like a caress, puffs of cooling breath close to his hot skin. 'Twas Aldreth's healer, she of the ebony tresses and piercing violet eyes. She ran to him through the mists, concern weighing down delicate brows. The slight pressure of her palm rested upon his sternum.

  I'm going to save you Toren Limont. Don't think I won't.

  He so wanted to believe her. But she had never truly spoken those words. Had she? She was naught but a deception.

  Toren rolled his head back and forth, cradled within a feminine lap. She came to him within the rolling mist, trailing upon a dream. That had never happened either, though the scene rippled through his emotions like a lost memory.

  I need your name.

  Her words whispered over his heated skin.

  And he had given it, trusted her with his name like offering a precious pearl.

  When? When had he done that? He couldn't remember. Images overlaid upon another. He was in her strange home. She refused to heal him. That’s what had happened. That’s what he remembered. Her refusal of aid. Nay, she did heal him. His head rolled again. His arms flailed as he reached out…for what?

  Nothing made sense. Darkness clouded his mind, the black wing of a vulture blotting out the sun.

  Heat scalded his lungs. Burning. From inside. And without. His back was on fire. He burned, he burned. He was on fire for nothing else could explain the flames.

  His ribs moved. He cried out within the tide of brutality, recognizing the vicious force demanded of a healing. Someone was trying to heal him. Or hurt him worse. He did not know.

  He rolled to get away from it, unsure that he'd survive what was happening, yet an arm flew around his waist, holding him in place and a voice wept close to his cheek.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It will be better soon. I promise."

  He stilled for her, riding it through, for he hadn't the strength to do aught else and found that the inferno was fading, cooling. He could breathe, the blockage in his lungs was no longer present. Harsh breaths expanded his chest in and out until he found his breathing slowed of its own accord, following another's pattern.

  "In. Out. In. Out. That's good. Breathe with me. In and out. You’re doing good."

  His eyes fluttered open to lips that stretched into a smile. Lips that were above him and very close to his own.

  "Toren?"

  He shoved away from her, half-surprised he could do so without more than a dull ache. Still weak, his arms buckled, threatening to pitch him forward to flop on his stomach in the dirt.

  The enchantress, also, supported herself with shaky arms, also weakened from the healing, yet 'twas the crestfallen look of disbelief that made him want to rush back to her side. Nay, he could not afford to be tricked again.

  He pressed the flat of his palm to his head as though he could push hard enough and reorder his jumbled thoughts. Which was real? Was the maiden friend or foe?

  He had no recollection of what had transpired or if what he did remember was actually truth. His thoughts were a muddled mess.

  Risking taking his eyes off the lass, Toren took in their surroundings, trying to make some sense of what was going on. They were inside a tangle of tree limbs and mud and Déithe, nay!. Col lay unconscious beside him in the muck and the world took a dizzying spin around him. She had his brother! He shook his head to right the world back in place, surprised when no pain assailed him at the movement. "What have ye done to him?"

  "I—" If anything the healer looked hurt, her incredible eyes widened. "I didn't do anything." She shifted toward them.

  Toren threw out his hand. "Stay back. Just stay right there. I'm taking my brother out of here."

  "What? Are you kidding me?" Now she appeared indignant.

  "Nay. I am not kidding ye." He didn't like how unnaturally still Col was. Keeping an eye on the woman, he sidled over to his brother. "Col." He nudged his shoulder and the lad's eyes stirred beneath his lids. If the healer had harmed him…

  Edging out of the enclosure backwards on his knees, Toren grabbed Col's arm and the fabric at his hip and pulled him across the soft squishy ground.

  The Healer Enchantress slammed her fists on her hips. Even on her knees and tiny as she was, she looked like a woman not to be trifled with.

  "What are you doing? Where do you think you're taking him?"

  To his home. Someone in the clan would know how to undo whatever she had done to him. Except… He squinted through disordered memories, unable to think clearly. That wasn’t right. He couldn’t take Col back to the village because the clan had left. Surely they had gone to Reolin Skene by now.

  He had to take Col there. To the standing stones. How had the youngling gotten himself captured? The enchantress had to be very powerful to have drawn the lad away from Shaw’s watchful eye. Yet…glancing her over, any man would be hard-pressed to resist. Hopefully they weren’t too late, but if they were, he would call on the Fae to open the gateway and get his brother to the safety of the Shadowrood. He expected that the Fae could also somehow rid him of these spelled bands. And then once his entire clan was safe, he would come back for Aldreth. She could no longer be free to wreak havoc on the world, with or without his clan already gone.

  When he was finished with the witch, he'd find a special punishment for the little healer. An image of creamy skin and pliant curves beneath him in an altogether different form of punishment came unbidden to his thoughts and all the blood rushed from his head. Déithe. He shook it off. Enchantress, he glared at her.

  He found Col's saffron shirt and also his boots next to him and began clothing his brother, tugging the shaggy head through the fabric and guiding the limp arms through the sleeves.

  "Fine," the healer huffed. "I’m the bad guy. What of your sister then?"

  Toren went rigid, recalling his sister's voice had been floating at the edge of his delirium. Did the witch have her?

  "What have ye done with her?"

  "Now you're just being stupid." The healer crossed her arms beneath her breasts and Toren’s traitorous eyes couldn’t help following the movement down from her face. She was breathing hard, though trying to hide it, shaking and pale, at the end of her endurance after healing him. Which…why had she bothered to heal him? What was her purpose in that? Knock out Col and then heal him?

  Those violet eyes sparked with temper. "All by myself, I overpowered a shapeshifter, an extraordinarily gifted empath, and carried your heavy sorry ass all over this goddess forsaken forest. What would be the point? Oh yeah, and then I healed you. Let’s not forget that. If I'm working with Aldreth, wouldn't it have been easier to leave you all in the dungeon once I lured Col and Edeen there? Three Limonts for the price of one. Sheesh. This is insulting on so many levels, you know that?" Her hands slashed through the air, marking her anger and a memory of stopping those hands and bringing each finger to his lips slid inside his awareness, stunning him speechless.

  Her eye’s sparked. They were far too expressive.
He could fair see every emotion flit across her lovely face, and admittedly she made sense. Nothing about them being here and making herself weak with his healing reeked of an ulterior motive. She genuinely looked hurt, though he was not prepared to stomp caution to the ground as long as Col and Edeen were at risk.

  He frowned, his head so muggy with clashing images and conflicting emotions toward the woman, he didn't know what to make of her. One moment he wanted to throttle her while the next he felt the overwhelming need to scoop her into his arms and kiss the scowl he’d put there off of her brow. As it was, she was little threat right now in her weakened condition. Right now, Col was his main concern.

  "She makes a valid point, Toren." Edeen crawled beneath the tangled branches.

  Toren's gaze whipped to her, relief clenching tight in his stomach. Before he realized he'd covered the small distance, even with the aches in his body, he had her crushed against him. He hadn't dared believe he'd see any of his family again, but here Edeen was, hale and free and he was determined to keep her and Col that way.

  Déithe, what was she doing here? She and Col should have gone into the Shadowrood by now.

  Edeen clung just as tightly to him, her slender hands clutching tight to the skin of his back—his back that was no longer a mass of shredded meat thanks to the healer— unwilling to let go when he eased Edeen away to look her over. She was disheveled, the hem of her kirtle encrusted with dirt, but otherwise appeared unscathed, a beautiful sight to his tortured soul.

  Behind him came the thump of a body hitting the ground.

  Edeen’s features went from relief to concern and she was out of his arms and moving in a flash of flying skirts.

  Toren turned to find the little healer unconscious on the ground.

  For a moment all he could do was stare. Conflicting feelings roiled through him. She looked so fragile, dark hair spilled over the ground. Thick lashes formed half-circles upon her pale cheeks.

  He crouched, scooping her into his arms before he realized he had even moved.

  Beside them, Edeen smoothed a lock of hair off Charity’s forehead. “Healing you has exhausted her.” She frowned at him. “Your injuries were…Oh Toren, the witch hurt you so. How you suffered…”

  Toren shook his head. He had been angry, confused. He still didn’t know what to think of the healer or her part in his torture or rescue, but he couldn’t think beyond the fact that she had taxed herself for him and he wanted her to awaken.

  "What's happened?" He knew he would get the truth of events from Edeen.

  "We've freed you, Toren. We got you out."

  "Aye." That much was obvious. His gaze slanted to the healer, desiring to see those sparking violet eyes open. "But how? And what ails Col?"

  Worry lines puckered Edeen's forehead and she shook her head and reached over to take Col's hand in hers. "He pushed into Aldreth's barriers while in the state between shifting." Edeen winced up at him. "'Twas the only way to get to you."

  Toren went cold. 'Twas dangerous for a shifter to hold that state of magic overlong. Many had tried and been lost—simply dissipating into the ether. And to do so within a witch’s spell… Déithe A shudder rolled through his frame. How long had Col maintained that form? 'Twas a testament to his brother's ability…or his desperation.

  Toren looked at Col, his gut twisting in fear, yet Col was solid and alive, his chest softly rising and falling. He could so easily have been lost to them and Toren would never have known of it while languishing deep in Aldreth’s dungeon.

  Tamping down the panic filling in his chest, Toren stroked the healer’s arm before he realized what he was doing. He didn’t stop. "What part has she played in all this?"

  He regretted the harsh tone at the widening of Edeen's eyes and the way her features conveyed precisely how much his distrust of the healer annoyed her. His resolve nearly faltered.

  "Charity." Edeen's chin set in a stubborn tilt. “She has a name so best ye use it. 'Twas she who brought us the descriptions of the symbols at your wrists and allowed me to unravel Aldreth's spell." She faltered when he glanced at one of the bands. "Partially unraveled. Enough to get you away from the castle."

  He knew the healer's name for rood’s sake. He just couldn't think of her in so familiar a term if he were to keep from falling prey to her bewitchment. Enchantress was an apt description of the healers. He had the discomfiting feeling that If Aldreth would have thrown this lass to him, he would have succumbed long ago.

  He hesitated, looking from the still woman who felt so right in his arms to his sister and then to Col, the instinct to protect his siblings from anything—anything at all—ingrained into his very existence. Col's utter stillness unnerved him.

  "She healed you." Edeen's palm curled over his arm, her gaze penetrating. "And with how wounded you were, I fear she may have overwrought herself. She’s unused to the strength of magic here. Toren, she’s done more for us than you can know without thought for herself. I trust her."

  And just that easily Toren's hard-waged battle was lost. Empath. He'd been under Aldreth's ministrations so long that he dare not trust his own feelings, but he could trust Edeen's.

  A peace he had not felt for sennights settled around him and he nodded. Edeen trusted this woman. So would he, though he was not prepared for the sudden twist in his heart or the tightness in his throat over the decision as he stared down at her, memorizing every feature. He pushed away the urge to stroke her cheek. Not after his foul treatment of her.

  They needed to go. He did not have the full details of his rescue, but he could not imagine that Aldreth would not soon be upon them. “How many have followed us?” Whether the witch had sent men after them or not was not in question.

  “’Tis difficult to tell within the forest. Nine by my reckoning.”

  Only nine? “Aldreth is holding them back. I’m certain they know exactly where we are.”

  Edeen’s face paled. Her gaze lowered to the bands of leather on his wrist. “Why would she hold them back? For what purpose?”

  “Purpose?” Toren barked out a harsh laugh. “She plays with us. She has no need of mercenaries to track us through the forest.” He lifted his wrist. The symbols glowed slightly beneath the tangled branches. “She can pull me back at will.”

  Col stirred. His eyes moved beneath his eyelids.

  “Then why?” Edeen stared down at Col, the lines of her forehead smoothed as she made the connection. “For us. Col and I. Aldreth means to follow her connection to you and find us all together.”

  As though hearing his name spoken, Col's lashes lifted, revealing mossy green eyes. His lips twitched into a smile. "Did it work? We got Toren out, aye?" Relief eased the worry straining Toren’s chest.

  "Aye, it worked, ye mutton head." Edeen ruffled the lad's hair. "Do ye not recall walking through the forest?"

  Col's brow wrinkled and he grimaced. "Unnn. I do not recall much after carrying Toren through the passages."

  "I would think not." Edeen pushed Col's hair from his cheek. "Can you walk?"

  "Of course. What of Toren?"

  "Of my own volition, brother."

  Col's eyes swept to him and the young warrior's entire countenance lifted in what Toren could only describe as unreserved joy. "Toren." He pulled up, his gaze immediately falling upon the healer. “What’s happened to Charity?”

  Protectiveness swelled inside Toren’s chest. She ran to him, across the moor, mist curling at her hips, teasing cloudy swirls around her breech-covered legs until she stood before him, slender hands upon his crisp white shirt.

  "Toren," she breathed.

  He smiled at the unusual inflection she gave to his name and since she was but a dream, he indulgently dragged his fingers into her hair, sighing at the silkiness.

  "Toren, I need you to tell me where you are. I'm going to help you."

  He stared down at her, could not tear his gaze away.

  "Imigh sa diabhal, Toren," Col muttered, snapping Toren back fro
m the memory. Was it a memory? "How could ye let the witch get the advantage over you?"

  How indeed. His abduction was all a bit fuzzy. There'd been a lovely wench, nay, not a wench after all. He had glimpsed her true form, the slip of a forked long peeking between her lips, the blink of a second gauzy eyelid—a demon—and before he knew it the damnable wrist bands were on him and Aldreth appeared. None of his magic could be called against her while hers worked magnificently well against him.

  "'Tis a tale for another time." Though humiliating, he would not have any others of his clan fall to the same fate. "Let's get ye up."

  Col pulled back, his demeanor turned serious. "Do not be taken so easily again."

  Toren grinned at the stern warning. "Nay."

  "Is the way clear?" Col asked Edeen and frowned up at Toren.

  "The guardsmen still prowl the woods, but they are not what we need to fear."

  Chapter Twenty