Defeat the Darkness (Hearts of Darkness) (35 page)
Read Defeat the Darkness (Hearts of Darkness) Online
Authors: Eliza March
Coming November 1, 2013
Read a chapter excerpt here…
Hearts of Darkness, Book Two
Damned
by Darkness:
Conquer the Highland Beast
Damrograc Field, the Highlands
Late Fifteenth Century
By the time the sun was full up, Dylan was already marching into battle. Just another mercenary soldier with a hangover.
Behind you!
A young female voice warned.
At first, he’d been startled to hear the girl’s rich sweet voice in his mind. He’d been surprised to once again connect with someone through
mind speak
—another with powers like his own—like the powers of his murdered mother and sister.
Battling three men, Dylan whirled and confronted the fourth at the last moment. He barely avoided the ax wielded by a huge, one-eyed warrior. Fighting and retreating, Dylan focused on his battle even though he longed to spy the lass who’d warned him.
As he turned fully to confront his adversaries, the vision before him set a cold fear deep into his soul and sent chills up his spine.
Beyond the ring of adversaries, one man had a young woman by her flame red hair and another had her legs. It was hard to make out her age. She was slight and made no sound, but he sensed her fear.
This reminder was too similar to his old memories.
The lass, mentally projecting, sent a quick warning to another while trying to hold back her concern for herself.
Suddenly, a young lad ran out of the woods to rescue her. He couldn’t have been but fourteen or fifteen years.
Stay back,
Dylan and the lass warned, hurling the command in unison. But it was too late. One of the men who’d been struggling with the girl grabbed the lad.
Memories of his own past—Eva, his family, the lives that were lost. It all flooded Dylan’s senses like a tidal wave, and his berserker rage coursed through him.
Set me free
, the beast cried from within him.
Blood pumped through his veins at an accelerated rate. His muscles exploded iron hard. In this form, he had the strength of a god, and with it, he spun on his adversaries.
Picking off the two men quickly, Dylan tore the lass from the soldier’s grasp.
Run and don’t stop,
he commanded.
My brother!
I will free him. Have no fear.
And with those thoughts, he ripped the lad from the men and tore the warriors apart as if he was a lion and they were mere rabbits.
Go, lad! Stay with your sister. Hide well.
Watch out! There are five...
Dylan heard the lassie’s warning, but too late. Turning his back on the other warriors to save the young lad had been his last mortal mistake.
One Dylan would never forget as he stared at the sister’s pale emerald eyes. The grateful relief he’d seen reflected as his gaze met hers was one of knowing. As he was struck from behind, her expression changed from relief to horror and then to sorrow.
Dylan felt fragmented—dark and light sides of him shattering with the blow. He almost didn’t understand the lassie’s words spoken in an ancient druid tongue, but their meaning became clear to him within his mind...
We will ne’er forget you and what you have done for us, warrior. May the Valkyrie come for you.
He’d heard stories of Valkyrie coming for great warriors, fallen in battle, to take them to Valhalla, but those were tales told around campfires after too much ale. The lad and the lass had been among the innocent thousands he’d rescued, and still redemption eluded him.
The relief he’d felt when he saw the girl rush off to safety with her brother was priceless. It was one of those rare moments when Dylan experienced complete peace of mind. A peace of short duration, though as the sword had entered his back.
Dylan glanced down to his hands. The blade was visible, spilling his guts from the gaping wound. He wouldn’t be leaving this field. Even his berserker healing nature wouldn’t be enough to save him this time. But he would rest easy. His death was worth having saved the boy and his sister. That peace was worth this pain. His back ached and fire pierced his lungs when he tried to breathe. He could no longer stand or feel his legs. He groaned with the attempt and collapsed.
~~~~
By twilight and few thousand bloodied bodies later, he still lay dying among the others on the grizzly battlefield while watching the sun sink lower on the horizon.
Superior strength and stamina had a drawback. While he writhed in pain, praying to any god who would listen for death, a clear image of Niccolai appeared to him within moments of the sun clearing the horizon.
Puzzling. How had the man from the evening before found him? Why was he here?
Dressed in black breeches and jacket, the stark immaculate, white ruffled shirt, stood out. And as Niccolai stood over him, for an instant, the man reminded him of the angel of death.
You saved those innocents at risk to your own life.
“Niccolai?” Dylan grated, coughing up blood. The salty taste and metallic scent filled his senses. “I beg you, finish this.” Dylan choked out his words, relieved to see the intent in the man’s eyes as Niccolai lifted the dagger in his hand. The cold, already settling in Dylan’s legs, crept higher. He was close to death, but he could linger here in dismal pain for hours more.
Mortally wounded, with his gut wound bleeding out slowly, he was ready to die. Succumbing to death would be a welcome reprieve from the intense, brutal pain ravaging him—from the pain living had wrought.
But the hand with the dagger stopped inches away. Niccolai hesitated.
At the height of Dylan’s pain, the handsome stranger who felt like an old friend, asked him a puzzling question. “What are you, warrior?”
“B-berserker. Grandson of Sigmund. Descendent of O-odin.
“Death or eternal life, berserker—a choice. I see no Valkyrie here to take you home. Do you wish another chance to redeem yourself? I ask you, Dylan. What is it you desire?”
Too weak to laugh or answer, he could only think.
No, I do not wish to live this way any longer.
“Were you sincere in your wish to help me? To live in a different manner?” Niccolai continued his questioning. “To lead, not follow? To protect, not destroy?”
Dylan couldn’t remember voicing his thoughts the night before, but then he’d been quite drunk. Staring into Niccolai’s face, he thought once again about how much he’d wanted to help. But how and who? What use could he be to one such as Niccolai?
Dylan couldn’t deny their connection. He felt a need within the other man calling to him. Pain wracked his body with convulsions. “Sorry. Dying.” He forced out his response, his last words a whisper, “Can. Not. Help. You.”
“Do you wish to be an immortal?”
Immortal?
“Think of all the innocents you could protect.”
Me? Why me?
Dylan wondered, but he gave a short nod. He did want to his life to mean something. Yet, not fully comprehending what he was being asked, nor what immortality might mean, Dylan still knew he had much to atone for in his past.
No matter
—cold death seeped through his chest—
it is too late
.
He was close to the light when Niccolai leaned down and kissed him. Dylan would have flinched if he’d been able. He thought his warm breath smelled of blood, or maybe it was from the blood he’d retched. The scent should have been repugnant, instead it made him hungry, ravenous.
Darkness closed his eyes.
Drink.
The powerful command ricocheted through him.
And he did as he’d been commanded.
More coming soon…
Author Bio...
Eliza March lives in Florida with her husband and her daughter’s cat. She babysits grandchildren and family members’ pets from time to time between traveling.
Besides reading, writing, and editing, one of her favorite past times is researching genealogy.
She is an active member of her RWA local chapter, TARA.
Thank you for purchasing this publication.
For questions or more information about the author’s other published works
visit her at:
http://facebook.com/authorelizamarch
http://elizamarch.blogspot.com
http://romanceonthewilderside.elizamarch.com/