“Nay! ’Tis a baron from the North.”
—then fell to earth, dashed against the sharp stones of truth. She nearly cried out in pain.
“Who?” Darton demanded.
“I know not, m’lord.”
Oh, Hagan, would you were alive. Sorcha closed her mind to thoughts of Hagan or worries over the army standing on the other side of the thick stone walls of Erbyn. Taking both of Anne’s hands between her own, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Live, Lady Anne,” she whispered. “By all that is holy, arise … walk with us …”
The noise of the castle seemed to mute. The air was suddenly cold and the silver ring pulsed warm against Sorcha’s finger. The serpent seemed to glow in the shadowed room and clouds covered the moon.
With one hand Sorcha clutched the twigs in the necklace, and the ring turned hot. Her eyes closed and the room seemed to swim about her.
“Whose army is it? Go find out,” Darton told Ralston and the sentry. As the men departed, he stayed in Anne’s room, unable to move, as if he were fascinated as he watched Sorcha work her magic. With a shriek the wind raced through the castle, rattling the stone walls and echoing against the timbers, but Sorcha barely heard. She felt the warmth of her blood leave her body to heat Anne’s as she prayed for Anne’s life.
Slowly her eyes opened. The candles flickered and died, and still Sorcha’s chants were unbroken. Carried on the wind, voices from the bailey seeped into the room. Soldiers shouted, swords clanged, horses neighed, as Darton’s men made ready for battle. The acrid smell of war hung heavy on the air swirling within the dark chamber.
Sorcha’s heart constricted. She gasped and swayed.
Anne’s breath rushed out as if in a long sigh.
Darton’s own heart nearly stopped. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as his sister’s eyes fluttered open and she retched. The miracle of life was restored by this small woman who would be his wife. He saw his future stretched out before him—golden, perfect, without a flaw. Yes, his bride would surely—
Crack!
Pain exploded in Darton’s leg. Bones splintered and his kneecap shattered. With a scream, he felt his legs wobble and fold. His head struck the floor with a thud, and as quickly as the vision of his life had entered his head, he was swallowed in a deep, black void.
“Bloody son of a dog!” Bjorn, his face twisted in hatred, stood over the baron and shoved his boot onto Darton’s throat. “You sick bastard,” he snarled. “I swear I’ll kill you in your own castle and spit on your body.”
“There is no time for that now.” Sorcha reached under the covers where Anne’s knife was hidden and sawed through the thick rope binding Bjorn’s wrists. Within seconds he’d yanked the frayed hemp off his arms, but never once did his boot move, and Darton’s face darkened with his lack of breath.
“Do not kill him,” Sorcha war
ned, though she knew he deserved no better.
“Why not?”
Darton squirmed and Bjorn’s foot settled deeper at his throat. “Go ahead,” Bjorn said to the man who would have killed him. “I would love to send you to hell.”
“No. He is our prisoner. As he kidnapped Leah, so shall we kidnap him.”
Bjorn smiled at this little twist of irony and he hauled Darton to his feet. Darton screamed in pain.
Anne roused, her low moan whispering through the chamber.
“Come, you must wake.” Sorcha helped her to a sitting position, but she was still spinning from the effects of the potion she’d drunk, mumbled something, then sank back onto the bed as if she had no bones in her body.
“We have no time for this, Anne. Wake up! We must free Leah now.”
“Free Leah?” Marshall’s voice whispered through the room, and Sorcha stiffened. “I think not.”
Turning, Sorcha saw the gaunt knight. He cast a look at Darton and his lip curled in disgust. “Fool,” he muttered, then glared at Bjorn, Sorcha, and Anne. “You may go with your sister, but I assure you that you will not free her. You see, you’re all my prisoners now, and I have an audience with Garrick of Abergwynn.”
“Abergwynn?”
“Aye—Baron Garrick is here now. Seeking shelter.” Marshall’s grin was evil.
Ralston, who had returned, looked confused. “But what of the baron?” he asked, eyeing the groaning mass that was Darton.