Tritus’s mind scrambled as he fought to stay rational. This couldn’t come to bloodshed—the risk was too great to his loved ones. “No one knows of our relationship or the babe’s existence,” he reasoned. “There is no need for such a claim.”
“That’s not quite true,” Talorgan denied without a flicker of emotion. “I know, and my brother knows.”
The comment gave Tritus pause. “Is that what this is all about, Talorgan? The fact that your brother knew about us all along? Or is this”—Tritus gestured between them—“about my friendship with your brother? It’s no secret you’ve hated me since my people first touched your shores. But when I threatened your relationship with your brother, you hated me even more.”
Talorgan’s jaw clenched. He gritted out between his teeth, “Your friendship with my brother is irrelevant! And your taunts will not dissuade me from the task at hand. The fact is, this indiscretion is abnormal, and I cannot allow your child to be born!”
“And who are you to make that call?” Cailleach asked him softly, her tone no less deadly. “You, who are not a god!”
A slash of red flushed across Talorgan’s cheekbones. “You’d be surprised at what I have become. And soon, you will know the pleasure of my touch and not this man’s!”
Tritus’s stomach roiled at the thought of Talorgan touching his woman. All rational thought fled. His hands clenched into fists as he took a deliberate step forward. “Cailleach is mine. You will do no harm to her or our child.”
“And how do you intend to stop me, Gaul, when I have all the power?” Talorgan taunted, lifting one hand, palm up. A twisting tornado of red smoke appeared, whirling into a vicious vortex. “I know what the goddess’s condition does to her magic. I know she’s weak and powerless.”
How did he know that? Not even Cailleach had known what would happen when she became pregnant. But he didn’t know about the pendant. And at that moment, Tritus finally understood why he had been led to that stone. It had been this moment—this threat.
Tritus paused, his eye on the magical vortex that swirled in Talorgan’s palm. He caught the flash of dark shadows, heard the faint screams on the air, felt a chill touch his spine. What has he become?
Talorgan’s power was unlike any Tritus had seen before, unlike that of the other Druids, even the Masters. But nor was it like Cailleach’s, which was a cacophony of power, raw but natural. This power emanating from Talorgan was not natural; it felt dark and twisted, and the signature on the air was ugly—akin to acrid smoke and burning flesh—as if there was a body smoldering on a pyre.
His heart beat erratically and Tritus steeled his resolve for what was to come. Aware that Cailleach would feel his fear through their internal bond, he held onto his courage and replied, “It does not matter how much power you have, or what the odds are between us. My family means everything to me. You’ll never touch them. If you plan on pursuing this crazy persecution, you’ll have to go through me first.”
Talorgan’s teeth bared. “I was counting on it.”
Tritus knew his only weapon was the element of surprise.
“NO!” Cailleach cried, just as Tritus let go of her hand and launched over the campfire.
His fist smashed into Talorgan’s face with a resounding crack. Tritus didn’t stop to question the contact, his momentum pushing him forward, right onto Talorgan. He heard the sickening crunch of Talorgan’s head as it hit the ground. Surprise was etched on the Druid’s features as his eyelids flickered closed. Not stopping for one moment, Tritus reached over and grabbed one of the burning logs on the fire and raised it above his head, about to smash it down on the face of his nemesis. But just as he was about to lay the killing blow, Cailleach screamed.
“Wait!” She pointed at Talorgan’s figure, her face stark. “Look! He’s wearing a protection ward. If you touch him, you’ll die!”
Tritus paused and caught the slight glimmer in the air around the Druid, the ripple of an almost transparent light. Tritus roared, incensed at his predicament; at the moment he’d decided to kill Talorgan, he couldn’t.
“We must run!” Cailleach urged, desperately yanking him backward. But his eyes remained on Talorgan as the man slowly drew to his knees, rage and hate ablaze on his features. Tritus knew what that depth of feeling meant, what that emotion would lead to, and he could see the next few moments unfold as if they had already played out before him. Tritus knew to his very soul that if he didn’t finish this now, Talorgan’s shadow would follow them forever.
He spun to face Cailleach and clutched her upper arms. “You heard him, Cal. He’ll never leave us alone. You and the babe will not be safe until this is finished. I can give you a chance; you and the babe—but only if you run now!” He shook her roughly, urgently. “Run, Cal! Keep our child safe!”
Cailleach glanced at Talorgan, whose eyelids were fluttering. She slowly shook her head in denial. “No! Not without you, Tritus. He’ll kill you!”
He grabbed her face in both hands. “If it means that you and the babe survive, I will gladly take that path.”
Cailleach sobbed. She knew the stand he was taking. Understood the sacrifice. Most likely knew it at the same time he did, when he’d made the decision. He broke her sob, leaning in to kiss her lips hard and fast. “I promise you we will meet again in this lifetime or the next. Now run!”
She shook her head again but took a hesitant step back. Tritus caught her eyes flicker back to Talorgan, who was now rising to his full height, eyes burning hot coals in his blue face. One hand clutched his bleeding temple, the other cradled his magic.
“You’ll pay for that!” he spat.
“Given what just happened, I don’t need magic to get what I want,” Tritus taunted softly.
Talorgan snarled. “We’ll see about that!” He held his swirling magic higher. “What I unleash will change your thought about my power!”
Cailleach whimpered, and the sound drew Talorgan’s gaze. “You best listen to the Gaul and run,” he sneered. “Or choose to watch your lover die. Either way, the outcome will remain the same. But know this Cailleach: your indiscretion will require payment in the form of the babe in your womb. And once this is all over, you’ll be mine.”
Cailleach stumbled backward, out of Tritus’s reach. “No,” she whispered vehemently. “I would rather die!”
Talorgan’s gaze swept over her form. “That would be a waste, my dear, especially when I have done so much for you. Time will temper whatever it is you feel for this man. Now, before I change my mind, you best make up yours—are you staying or going, for I grow tired of this game and seek the retribution I am owed.”
Tritus knew that reasoning with Talorgan was pointless. But not with Cailleach. Knowing he had one last breath to convince her, Tritus urged with as much conviction as he could muster, “Quick, Cal! I’ll follow you as soon as I can.”
Cailleach took those words as he knew she would—as a promise that he would return. With confidence he did not feel, Tritus kept his features schooled, hiding his rioting fear at the outcome that was already written in the stars.
It must have worked, for Cailleach gave his face one last sweep of anguished love, which conveyed every emotion she was feeling. “Come back to me!” she whispered brokenly, before she turned, hands protectively clutching her protruding belly, and raced into the darkness of the forest.
25
Brydie
The ride home was fraught with tension. Gage didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to—anger emanated off him in waves.