Page 120 of Dark Embrace

Brie tensed as the blade thumped again.

And then the cry suddenly ceased. The chamber was utterly silent except for Aidan’s harsh, heavy breathing. Brie didn’t dare look inside but she felt the darkness weakening. She looked up. Black, it spun upward into the gray sky, twisting and dwindling, becoming smaller and smaller, vanishing near the pale sun.

She heard the chamber door close. A bloody sword landed on the ground. She turned, trembling, her knees buckling, and Aidan pulled her close.

She went still, her cheek against his chest, his heart thundering there. He held her, hard and tight. It was over.

HE LANDED INSIDE ELGIN’S INNER ward, so determined to find his son that he did not even fall, for he refused to succumb to any pain or weakness now. The black walls of the ward swirled in his vision, and it was a moment before he steadied. He glanced around. Elgin had been in the hands of the chief of the Dunbar clan for several years, although it remained an impressive seat in the earldom of Moray. The current earl bore no relation to Aidan’s vanquished, demonic father.

He seized a passing lad of twelve years old, who was leading a cow and her calf to the outer bailey. “I am looking for a boy with dark hair and blue eyes, a bit younger than you. He is prisoner here. He might be in a tower, or even in the dungeons.”

The freckled lad blinked and looked away. “I dinna ken.”

Aidan lurked. The lad lied. No one was allowed to admit that a boy was being held prisoner in the west tower on its highest floor—if he was really there. Apparently no one had seen him, not really. He had arrived unnoticed, as if on wings.

Aidan released the lad and ran across the ward to the tower. He flung the door open and rushed up its spiral staircase. As he ran up the twisting stairs, he felt the black power above—and he felt his son’s thoughts.

I’m on the top floor, Father.

It was Ian. His boy was truly alive!

He reached the landing, blasting the armed guard there, who crumbled to the floor. “Ian!” he cried, throwing the bolts aside. He flung open the door.

Ian stood there looking exactly as he had that long-ago day when Moray had murdered him, except for the fact that he was wearing modern clothes—a T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. “Father!”

Relief flooded Aidan. Tears streamed, and he rushed to his son. He knelt and wrapped Ian in his arms, barely believing that he held his son, at last. “Are ye hurt?” He didn’t dare release him—he was afraid to. Even as he held his small, thin body, he thought of the grown man he had just encountered.

Suddenly Ian pushed away. “I am fine,” he said firmly.

Aidan started, having the oddest feeling that he was looking into a boy’s eyes and a man’s soul. “Let’s go home, son.”

Ian nodded, his gaze dark and somber now, when a huge presence began to fill the room.

Aidan went still.

The chamber was flooded with white-gold, shimmering light, which rose up around them, flooding the entire room.

The majesty and splendor of absolute justice and power, the nearness of eternity, overcame Aidan. All was right, he somehow thought, dropping to his knees. He bowed his head. He had never felt more humble.

There was no form. Aidan wasn’t even sure there was a voice.

“Do you still wish to fight me?”

“Nay,” Aidan gasped, stunned. The father of all gods, the greatest god of all, had come to him.

“Your test was designed by the lesser gods, who can be so foolish. But I designed your Fate.”

Aidan didn’t move, eyes closed, tears falling.

“You recovered your son. Others are not so fortunate, and evil preys on the children in every time, in every place. You will protect them.”

Of course he would.

“I leave this memory with you because it will serve you well now. Never forget this day and the days before it.”

Aidan slowly looked up.

The god had a form now.