The Dark Highlander

Page 102

“We’ve noticed,” Chloe and Silvan said together.
“Then,” Dageus said firmly, “you know I’ve the right of it. If naught else, I must get Chloe back to her time before ’tis too risky for me to use the magic to open the white bridge again. We must go back and best we do so without delay.”
They spent their final night in the sixteenth century over a leisurely dinner in the great hall, then passed the remainder of the gloaming on the terrace. Chloe sat on the cobbled stones with Silvan and Nell and watched Dageus playing with his young half brothers, chasing them about the lawn beneath the crimson-streaked sunset.
It was hard to believe they were going back again, Chloe thought, savoring the soft hooting of owls and hum of crickets. She’d missed such peaceful sounds since she’d left Kansas and had thoroughly been enjoying falling asleep each night to such sweet music in the strong arms of her Highlander. It occurred to her that though she’d been in the past for weeks, she’d scarcely gotten to see much of it, other than the castle and one dusty chamber. She’d so wanted to return to the village of Balanoch and explore more, and if she’d had enough time would have begged to go to Edinburgh to really get a good look at the medieval life. She especially rued having to leave Silvan and Nell, knowing she’d never see them again, except in portraits on Maggie’s castle walls.
But she understood his insistence that they return immediately, and knew that, even if he’d been willing to stay, she wouldn’t have been able to enjoy it. Until they found what they needed to save him, she doubted she’d enjoy much of anything.
“Ye will take care of him, won’t ye?” Nell said softly.
Chloe glanced over to find both she and Silvan watching her intently.
She smiled. “I love him. I’ll be at his side every step of the way,” she vowed firmly. “Doona be getting yerself all in a fankle, Silvan,” she added in a teasing lilt, hoping to lighten his somber expression. “I’ll take care of your son. I promise.” Her gaze skimmed back to Dageus. He was carrying Robert while chasing Ian, and both were squealing with delighted laughter. His dark hair was loose, and his chiseled face fairly blazed with love.
“Believe me, if I have anything to do with it,” she added fervently, “I’ll be putting my own babies in that man’s arms.”
Nell laughed delightedly. “Now there’s a fine lass,” she clucked approvingly. Silvan heartily concurred.
• 24 •
Dageus finished etching the second to last of the formulas necessary to open the white bridge. Though they’d spent weeks in the sixteenth century, they would return to a time in the twenty-first century, a mere three days after the day they’d departed. He would etch the final complex series of symbols when they were ready to go.
Outside the circle of towering megaliths, his da and Nell stood with his wee brothers in their arms. He’d long since said his good-byes. Now Chloe was hugging and kissing them, and both her and Nell’s eyes were suspiciously bright. How easily, he marveled, women faced those canyons of grief men were wont to venture far and wide in hopes of circumventing. He wondered if women were, in some intangible way, stronger for it.
While Silvan and Nell gave Chloe messages for Drustan and Gwen, Dageus pondered what he’d discovered last eve, after Chloe had fallen asleep. In the wee hours of the morn, he’d crept back down to the chamber library. He was no fool; he knew his canny father had broken off too abruptly when reading the final passage in the fifth Book of Manannán.
And indeed, there it had been. One crucial bit of information Silvan had opted to keep to himself. Dageus didn’t need to ask him, to understand why he’d omitted the telling words. Silvan would argue that a prophecy was no more than a foretelling of a “possible” future. However, Dageus knew (and hadn’t Drustan’s experience with the seer Besseta proved it?) that the future foretold was the most likely future, which meant it was going to be damned difficult to avert.
Inscribed in the fifth Book of Manannán, in a slanted majuscule script, had been his most likely future:
The thirteen shall be made one, and the world will descend into an epoch of darkness more brutal than mankind has ever known. Unspeakable atrocities will be committed in the Draghar’s name. Civilization will fall and ancient evils rise, as the Draghar pursue their unceasing quest for vengeance.
He would never permit such a future to become reality. Chloe’s love had strengthened him and hope burned like a beacon in his heart. Though the darkness was ever growing in him, his resolve and determination had never been stronger.