“Aye. I’m thinking it should be possible.”
That was all she needed to know. Sadie jumped up and ran to her husband, pushing her way past his lethal-looking brother. Greylen stood up, took hold of her shoulders, and shook her.
“Ya’ve done enough,” he snapped.
“I can do more!” she shouted, giving him a direct glare. “I have the wizard’s magic in me.”
He released her as if burned, stepping away and looking at the priest who had walked up beside them. Father Daar nodded.
“She has, MacKeage,” Daar confirmed. “Your brother healed her with my own magic.
She’s carrying the energy of my staff in her body.”
Greylen looked torn between wanting to believe it was possible and not wanting to let her anywhere near his brother.
“Please. Bring him over to the water,” she entreated, taking the small cherry knot from Father Daar and walking to the water herself. “At least let me try,” she added, holding out her hand. “He—he’s my husband.”
Again, Father Daar nodded confirmation to Greylen. “Aye, MacKeage. I married them myself just yesterday.”
Greylen scanned the destruction around them, then looked down at his dying brother.
He bent and picked Morgan up and carried him to the small puddle of water. Callum and Ian quietly followed. Faol trotted past her and around the puddle and lay down with a whine, his nose touching the water.
Sadie stepped into the puddle and sat down, holding open her arms to receive Morgan.
Greylen gently settled him on her lap.
Father Daar came over and crouched beside her. “There’s just one wee little problem, Mercedes,” he whispered.
Greylen and Callum and Ian leaned closer to hear what the priest was saying.
“What’s that, Father?” Sadie asked, not caring if they did hear.
“The magic… well… I don’t know what will happen to ya, when ya give it up to your husband.”
Sadie snapped her gaze to his. “Will I go back to when I was shot?”
Father Daar nodded hesitantly. “Aye, that is possible. But I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “I can’t predict what the energy will do when passed through a mortal.”
Sadie realized all three men standing over her were collectively holding their breath, waiting for her decision. They couldn’t know that there simply was no decision to make.
She didn’t care if she bled to death right here in this puddle. She was not letting Morgan die.
She took the cherry knot and held it against Morgan’s chest, brushing the hair back from his face with her other hand.
“No, girl. Hold the burl with your right hand,” Father Daar instructed. “That will have the most powerful energy.”
Sadie switched hands but hesitated, holding the knot just off Morgan.
“Wh-what will happen?” she whispered. “How do I know I won’t kill him? Look what happened to this beautiful place when Morgan had your cane. What if all I create is just more destruction?”
Father Daar was shaking his head before she finished her question. “The wood is only a conductor of energy, Mercedes. Morgan was desperate and angry when he held the cane, and it was his wrath the magic brought down on us. But you’re yearning for something good. Ya won’t kill him.”
Sadie set the knot of cherrywood over Morgan’s wound, closed her eyes, and wished with all her heart for him to be healed.
The palm of her right hand suddenly started to warm. Light arced around her, filling her head with colors. She started to tremble as her whole body tightened with prickly heat.
She could hear the blood rushing through her veins, feel it pulsing down her arm and into her hand, smell the halo of ozone that suddenly wafted around her.
Her belly churned. Her back felt on fire, the intense heat shooting through her middle. A sharp pain stabbed down the length of her left arm. Her lungs and ribs felt crushed.
She could feel her flesh burning, almost smell it.
A hand touched her shoulder, and a voice whispered beside her ear. “Send it into him, Mercedes,” Father Daar instructed from a great distance. “Push, girl. Send the energy to Morgan.”
Sadie concentrated on moving the heat. She held her palm fiercely against Morgan’s side, pushing the knot of wood into his wound. Fire shot through her body. Her muscles trembled. Sadie fought not to lose consciousness, to keep the energy flowing to Morgan.
And slowly, ever so slowly, his heartbeat grew stronger.
And that madeher stronger.
Sadie focused her thoughts. She pictured Morgan being healthy in her mind’s eye, saw him laughing, glowing with the fire of passion as he made love to her. She saw him swimming naked in the lake, felt his patience even when he was angry with her. And she heard him calling hergràineag in a tone that was anything but endearing.
And Sadie sent him her love.
The green light that had faded in the destructive storm suddenly flashed and throbbed around her, sparking to a brilliant white before settling back into the gentle and steady glow of winter spruce.
“I had a dream,” came Morgan’s whispered voice.
Sadie pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her right hand and brushed the hair from his face as she smiled down at him.
“Did you see your mother and father?” she asked softly.
“My mum,” he answered. “Da wasn’t there.”
Because he’s here,Sadie thought to herself, peeking at the wolf who now had his nose tucked firmly against Morgan’s arm.
“I’m so sleepy, wife,” Morgan muttered, closing his eyes.
“Then sleep, husband,” she whispered, stroking his chest in comforting circles. “And know that I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Daar sat on a rock in the middleof the destroyed and deserted grotto and glared at the rubble created by Morgan’s desperate attempt to save his wife’s life.
It seemed all the magic was not gone. He could still feel something quietly humming, energizing the air. The wizard kicked the splinters of cherrywood at his feet. A small branch from one of the trees that had grown here must have escaped the destruction. He just couldn’t find the damned source of the hum.
With a weary sigh, Daar sat down on one of the smaller rocks and stared at the dig marks Morgan had made. When the warrior had awakened from his sleep and had been told that Mercedes had run away, Morgan hadn’t flown into a rage as they’d all been expecting. No, he’d simply gotten up, stared at the destruction he’d wrought, and asked what had happened to Eric Hellman.
Greylen had silently pointed to the pile of rubble that had once been the cliff at the far end of what had once been the pool. Morgan had walked over, pushed a few rocks out of the way, and started digging until he had amassed a small pile of gold nuggets. He’d tied the nuggets up in his shirt and then climbed the rubble, using his considerable strength to finish the destruction. Morgan had rained a final avalanche of boulders down over Hellman’s grave, then dusted off his hands and walked away.
Daar continued to search for that small hint of magic that seemed to have survived. He needed a new staff, and it would be nice if he could find a branch from this place. The cherrywood growing here had soaked up the magical energy from the waters that had flowed from the high mountain lake. This was blessed wood, and a cane from here would be much easier to train.
Daar wanted one now more than ever. He didn’t care to be powerless when it came to dealing with the MacKeages. For mere mortals, they were proving themselves powerful enough in their own right.
Faol suddenly stepped into sight, trotting over to one of the small remaining puddles.
He took a drink, lazily lapping at the water for several minutes, before he lifted his head and stared at Daar.
“Duncan, ya old warmonger,” Daar said, not unkindly. “Your sons have found themselves good lives here. There’s no need for ya still to be hanging around.”