Darkest Highlander by Donna Grant Page B

turned to glee when he realized the wyrran had taken the bait and were coming at him.
    There could be one or two left at the village, but most likely all had followed him.
    The wyrran crept from the forest. The moonlight glared off their pale yellow skin. Broc kept still as stone as he shifted his eyes to watch the wyrran station themselves on either side of him. More were to his back, but he didn’t bother to face them.
    The sound of a horse snorting drew Broc’s attention. He watched the wyrran part as a horse emerged from the trees. And atop the animal was none other than Dunmore.
    “I always knew there was something off about you,” Dunmore said as he regarded Broc with disdain. “You were always too willing to aid Deirdre.”
    “You mean, like yourself?” Broc taunted.
    Dunmore’s lips shifted to a sneer. “Your glib tongue will not get you out of this, Broc. Deirdre knows you betrayed her.”
    “Deirdre betrayed everyone when she set out to conquer us. I never gave her my loyalty, only made her think I did. From the very beginning, I was a spy in her midst.”
    “You think you outwitted her, do you?”
    Broc chuckled. “I know I did. Up until the moment I joined in the attack, she thought I was hers. For all her power, for all her knowledge, she was duped.”
    “She wants revenge.” Dunmore shifted atop his mount and eyed the wyrran. “Deirdre has plans for you especially.”
    “And I have plans for her. We all do. Eventually we will win.”
    “Not all of you.”
    Broc shook his head. “Nay, there will some of us who die, but in the end, so will Deirdre. And the next time, it will be for good.”
    “I wouldna get too confident,” Dunmore said. “You’ve left the mountain, Broc. There are things you doona know now. Things that if you did, you might no’ be so willing to stand against her. In fact, if I were you, I’d be on my knees begging for her forgiveness.”
    Broc curled his hands into fists, his claws slicing his palms. All the rage that had built while tracking and fighting the wyrran had never dissipated, only simmered and waited. Now, it grew.
    It overwhelmed.
    It besieged.
    And Broc did nothing to stop it.
    He had always known he would die in his fight against Deirdre. Whether it was by death or his god taking over, he would be gone forever. His only regret was that he hadn’t made sure Sonya was safe. At least with him gone, his “curse” wouldn’t affect her now.
    “But you are no’ me, Dunmore. Nay, you’re merely a mortal man. A man who has continued to age. I see the lines around your eyes and the gray in your hair. You are no’ as strong as you used to be. You tire more easily than before.”
    “Shut up.”
    Broc smiled. “Deirdre has no one but these wyrran. She’s using you. Once a Warrior returns to her, you will cease to be an asset. She’ll kill you or send you away.”
    “She promised me immortality.”
    Broc threw back his head and laughed. “And you believed her? If there was a god inside you, she would have unbound it long ago. If she really was going to give you immortality, she would have done it while you were in your prime, no’ aging as you are now.”
    Dunmore snarled and drew his sword from its scabbard. “I’ve heard enough from you. Deirdre wants you in her mountain, and I’m going to be the one who brings you to her. You’ll see firsthand just how much I matter to her.”
    With a wave of Dunmore’s hand the wyrran attacked. Broc killed the first three easily, but there were so many of them. He didn’t understand how they could have gotten to the village so quickly.
    He had a wyrran in each hand and one on his back when he saw Dunmore approach him. It must have been another signal, because suddenly all of the wyrran were on him, their slim bodies piling atop him as fast as they could.
    Broc snapped the necks of the ones in his hands and reached for more, but their intent wasn’t to harm him, it was to bring him to the ground.
    The back of one