Dark Sword 05: Shadow Highlander (12 page)

The other two wyrran on each side of Galen attacked at that moment. One sliced his leg while the other raked its claws across Galen’s abdomen.

The pain from the wounds was brutal, but nothing compared to the horror of their minds. Galen had to get them off him, to give himself a moment without their malevolent feelings in his head.

Galen kicked the wyrran attacking his leg, sending the vile creature slamming into a nearby tree. He slashed his arm down and across the wyrran in front of him, cutting its throat with five long, brutal slices. With another roar, Galen reached behind him and grabbed hold of the wyrran on his back.

Blood spilled from Galen’s wounds, but they would heal soon enough. The beast on his back bit his hand, the numerous sharp teeth cutting through Galen’s flesh and bone.

Galen took two steps backward and slammed the wyrran against the tree. The creature’s claws sank deeper into his back, but when Galen stepped away, it fell unconscious to the ground.

Galen wasted no time in cutting off its head with his claws, but when he turned to the one he had kicked against a tree, he glimpsed it running toward the loch.

Toward Reaghan.

Galen didn’t think, just reacted. He chased after the wyrran, getting to it just as the creature stepped into the water.

The wyrran turned and raked its claws diagonally across Galen’s chest with first one hand and then the other, making an
X.
Galen growled, his anger burning bright inside him, dampening the images from the wyrran’s mind.

He kicked the wyrran’s feet out from beneath it and used his boot on its neck to keep it down. The wyrran continued to slice at his legs and any other part of Galen it could reach.

Galen stared down at the despicable beast. “It’s time you die.” He plunged his hand into the wyrran’s chest and pulled out its heart.

He tossed the heart away, and only when he knew the wyrran was dead did he realize he was at the loch. He blinked, his chest tightening.

Slowly, tentatively, he turned his head and found Reaghan watching him with her mouth open and horror in her beautiful gray eyes.

ELEVEN

Reaghan could only stare in wonder—and more than a bit of fright—at the creature in front of her. She knew it was Galen by his kilt and the blond hair that flowed freely about his shoulders.

She swallowed as she took in the sight of skin the darkest green. And those claws!

Her heart raced, her blood ran like ice as she looked at him. She shivered from the time she’d spent in the cool loch, but also because of the wyrran attack. Those skinny, diminutive creatures made her stomach turn.

Despite her fear she realized Galen was killing the wee beasts. He was brutal, fierce in his slaying, but the blood and wounds over his body proved the wyrran had done their own damage.

And then Galen turned his head toward her.

Reaghan’s heart jumped in her throat as she stared into eyes she didn’t recognize. Gone were his beautiful cobalt eyes, and in their place were eyes as green as his skin. And the color bled through the entire eye.

She wanted to run. But she also wanted to go to him and see if he was all right. She didn’t know what to do, so she stood still, waiting for Galen to speak, to tell her everything would be all right.

He didn’t say anything. For long, heart-wrenching moments he just stared at her. There was something in his unusual eyes, something that made her yearn to take him in her arms and comfort him.

Reaghan licked her lips. “Galen?”

She heard the deep growl that came from him and flinched as he spun away. With her heart pounding, she started toward him.

From the stories she had heard she knew he was a Warrior, but she also knew he was not on Deirdre’s side. She had seen the truth of it in his eyes.

Though she had felt Galen’s kisses, knew the way his body moved over hers, she was apprehensive about getting near him in his Warrior form. The sheer power that radiated from him now was beyond belief, breathtaking, and more than a little daunting.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Reaghan swiveled her head to the right and saw a man atop a horse. His brown hair was streaked with gray at the temples, but it was the sneer on his face that made her gasp. There was so much hatred in that one look it made her take a step back.

She could feel his loathing, sense his need to capture her and take her … somewhere evil.

Wherever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Get to the village, Reaghan!” Galen yelled.

She glanced at him to see Galen’s gaze locked on the man. Reaghan hesitated, afraid to move, afraid the man might reach her before she could get away.

“He willna touch you.”

Galen’s promise, the deep, calming resonance of his voice, propelled her out of the water and behind him. Galen never took his eyes off the man.

She grabbed her gown, and with one last glance at Galen, she ran up the hill toward the village. She could hear the Druids and their frightened voices, the soft crying of some of the women.

Reaghan jerked her gown over her head and stumbled into the middle of the village where everyone stood huddled against each other.

“Reaghan!” Mairi shouted and jerked her into the group. “Are you hurt?”

“Nay, I was at the loch when the wyrran came. Galen and Logan are fighting them off.”

Mairi’s hand shook as she wrapped cold fingers around Reaghan’s wrist. “What makes those two men think they can defeat the wyrran?”

“I saw them fight the wyrran when one tried to get me. We will be safe,” Reaghan promised.

Mairi’s brown eyes regarded her silently for a moment. “What did you see?”

“I saw the wyrran die.” She wasn’t about to tell the elder the truth. They would cast Galen and Logan out of the village, even though they had defeated the wyrran.

The thought of never seeing Galen again, of never tasting his kisses again, of never feeling his arms around her, left Reagan distraught.

Despite what she had seen at the loch she couldn’t stop thinking of him. Galen was a good man, that she knew with certainty. He might have evil inside him, but he was a man of principle, a man who would fight evil until the end of his days.

*   *   *

Fury bubbled inside Galen when he caught sight of the man. The fact that the man was staring at Reaghan as if he’d found his salvation only made Galen’s rage burn brighter, hotter.

The only thing that would cleanse him of it was the man’s death. By Galen’s hand.

Once Reaghan was out of the loch and running to safety, the rider jerked his mount around and kicked him into a run. Galen wanted to see Reaghan to the village, but he had to go after the man and try to end this now.

Whoever he was, he was Deirdre’s. He might not have been created by black magic, but he had given himself to Deirdre in all ways. Now that he had seen Reaghan, he would chase her until he captured her.

Nay!

Galen hesitated a moment more, listening to make sure no wyrran ambushed Reaghan. Only then did he smile, his god eager for more blood and death. It would take no time for Galen to catch the man, not with the speed his god gave him.

Just as Galen started after him, a wyrran jumped in his path. In two quick swipes of Galen’s claws the creature lay dead at his feet.

He could have sworn he had killed them all. Yet there had been another. What if there were more? What if the beasts were just waiting for someone to venture from the village? What if that someone was Reaghan?

Galen’s blood ran cold with that thought. He looked after the man, silently promising the bastard he would find and kill him very soon. Then Galen pivoted and started toward the village. He pushed his god down, waiting until his claws and fangs were gone and his skin had returned to normal before he showed himself to the villagers.

His gaze found Reaghan almost immediately. She stared at him, fear and worry mixing in the stunning gray depths of her eyes. He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t do so yet. Mayhap not ever again.

“Galen,” a small voice whispered.

He shifted his gaze to find Braden watching him, his mother clutching the small lad to her. “Doona move,” Galen cautioned everyone. “There may be a few more wyrran.”

“Where is Logan?” a woman asked.

Galen wanted to know the same thing. He turned and faced the ancient stones. He knew better than to think the wyrran had somehow killed Logan. The wyrran were more pests than anything, though they could overwhelm with sheer numbers.

Still, Logan, like any Warrior, thrived on the thrill of battle, the smell of blood, and the scent of death.

Galen wished he had brought another Warrior with them. He wanted to look for Logan, but he couldn’t leave the Druids. The forest became eerily quiet, the calm only broken by the long, shrill call of the falcon as it soared high above them.

There was something in the air, something that told Galen evil was near. He could feel his claws growing, and silently prayed his skin wouldn’t turn, not yet, not until the threat arrived.

There was a rustle in the leaves, so soft only a Warrior with his enhanced hearing could have heard it. It was another wyrran, Galen was sure of it.

He turned his head and looked at Reaghan, silently telling her to be ready. She gave a small nod of her head, understanding and determination in her eyes.

Galen’s blood began to burn, his god eager for more death, more bloodshed. More was coming, and his god knew it. Galen’s gaze moved from tree to tree as he waited for the attack.

It came swiftly.

Wyrran moved to surround the villagers, their hungry yellow eyes looking over the Druids while they licked their lips in anticipation.

Galen unleashed his god and attacked the wyrran closest to him. There was a loud roar as Logan jumped from a tree above them, landing on the other side of the group of Druids.

Galen didn’t hold back. He quickly made his way from wyrran to wyrran. And when one got too close to the Druids, Galen was swift to kill it.

His head was full of their wickedness and disgusting thoughts, but he refused to give in to the vastness of it. Too many people’s lives were at stake.

It wasn’t until he heard the scream of a small child and the wail of a mother that Galen forgot the wyrran and turned. One of the creatures had managed to get close enough to grab Braden.

Galen roared and leaped, arms back and claws at the ready. He grabbed Braden with one arm, wrenching him away from the wyrran. The boy’s thoughts of death, of his mother being taken from him filled Galen’s mind.

Braden’s fear sliced through Galen like a blade. Galen didn’t have time to tell Braden all would be well. Instead, he decapitated the wyrran with one swipe of his claws.

Braden was holding on to him with all his might, his small body shaking as his head was buried in Galen’s neck. “I’ve got you,” Galen whispered and patted Braden’s back. “I willna let the wyrran take you, lad.”

“I know,” Braden said confidently, even though his voice cracked.

Galen made his way back to the Druids and handed the boy to his mother. He was amazed when Braden’s thoughts went from something so dire to happiness in a blink.

It had been a long time since Galen had experienced anything but dark thoughts and he almost didn’t want to let Braden go. The boy’s innocence helped to wash away the depraved thoughts of the wyrran.

“Put him in the middle. They’ll grab for the weakest first,” Galen cautioned.

Before the words were out of Galen’s mouth a wyrran landed on his back, and the creature’s jumbled thoughts of death, blood, gore filled his mind. Galen peeled back his lips and growled. But through his need to kill the wyrran he saw the revulsion and terror on the faces of the Druids before him.

Galen spun away and grabbed for the wyrran around the neck. Without much force at all, he snapped the creature’s neck and threw it off his body.

When Galen looked up, Logan was smiling in satisfaction and dead wyrran littered the ground. “Are there more?”

Logan shook his head. “I found these as I was on my way here. I kept to the tops of the trees and followed them. Did any get away?”

“A man on horseback who I believe was with the wyrran.”

Logan cursed and picked up a couple of the dead wyrran at his feet. He began to toss them into a pile.

Galen pushed his god down and faced the Druids. “The wyrran know where to find you now.”

“You led them to us!” someone accused.

Logan growled as he stalked away, but Galen wasn’t surprised the Druids assumed that. “Nay, we did no’. They are searching for a Druid, any Druid, to take to Deirdre. We battled her. We killed her, or at least her body. Her spirit is still here, and it will take the death of a Druid to give her the magic she needs to regenerate her body.”

“What if you’re lying to us?” Nessa asked.

“You could have asked any of the wyrran, or the man if you’d have liked. In case any of you missed it, those wyrran were trying to kill me and Logan as well. If we were with Deirdre, would they do that? Would we have stood between you and them?”