Read Online Incarnate: The Moray Druids #3 (Highland Historical) by Kerrigan Byrne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kerrigan Byrne
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necessary.”
The sky darkened as they stopped at the bottom of the stone steps to Dun Moray. The spires of his home now seemed sinister against the backdrop of the roiling clouds, occasionally illuminated with flashes of lightning.
Energy crackled in the very air between them. The ground was alive with it, and it sparked from the Crone’s silver eyes as he approached.
“I’ve never understood you, King Malcolm,” Badb spoke down at him from the top of the stairs, where she and the vicious girl/child, Nemain, blocked the entrance to the keep. “For a man of such power, you certainly lack vision.”
“I’m envisioning ye in yer grave,” Malcolm growled.
Badb’s cackle sounded like the crunch of gravel beneath a boot. “To say such things to your family,” she tisked.
“You’re no kin of ours,” Morgana said, her fingers twitching as she drew power into her hands and connected with the waters of the loch.
“I am a de Moray.” Badb lifted the Grimoire, the wind flipping the pages of the ancient tome until it fell open. “There are four de Moray’s behind one gate. The Prophecy of Four has foretold that we will be the ones to open the Seven Seals and bring about the Apocalypse.”
“Ye know I’d never do that,” Malcolm vowed. “I’d die before I succumbed to yer evil.”
Badb’s eyes flared, and she stepped forward, brandishing the book at him as she descended the stairs with the languor of a victor. “Evil?” she purred. “You men are always so short-sighted. You think there is only good, and only evil. You plant your flag on one side or the other and you fight to the death in service to the light or to the dark.”
“I will always choose the light.” He said this without hesitation, and still the crone laughed at him.
“It is easy for evil to take purchase in the soul of a good man.” Badb stopped three steps above him, bringing them all but face to face. “Bliss can be found in a sin, and bitterness often follows a good deed, is this not so?”
Victorious cries from the wall heralded a triumph over the Army of Souls. Smoke curled into the sky, mixing with the dark clouds and reflecting Kenna’s flames as though they licked skyward from the bowels of the Underworld.
“Your minions are defeated,” Malcolm informed his enemies.
Badb shrugged. “What need have I of them when I have the two of you? Once I help our master rise from the deep and seize what is left after the Apocalypse, the Army of the Damned will be my minions, and I will rule them with unimaginable power.”
“Ye’re delusional,” Malcolm spat.
“I’m a visionary,” she corrected. “And I’m willing to share that power with you, King Malcolm. I’ll give you a piece of my paradise when this is all over. And also, grant you what you desire most in this world, if you and your sister do what I want.”
With a wave of her gnarled finger and a whispered curse, a portal opened up on the steps right in front of them, a window to the Void. There, naked and curled in on herself, was Vían, shivering in a hole of desolation and anguish, whispering his name as though it were a prayer to the gods.
Morgana’s gasp seemed far away as Malcolm lunged for the portal, calling out to the woman on the ground.
Vían’s dark head lifted, sightless amethyst eyes searching blindly for his voice.
“Malcolm?” she choked as desperate tears streaked the grime on her face. Struggling to her feet, she put out her arms as if to reach for him, though it was obvious that she couldn’t see in her pitch-black prison. “Malcolm, are you here? I can hear you.”
Badb clenched her fist and the portal disappeared.
“She’ll think you came for her,” Nemain giggled. “How cruel.”
Morgana lifted both of her hands, making an intricate sign with her fingers and commanded a pillar of water to rise from the loch and douse the small fire witch. “Silence, you
The sky darkened as they stopped at the bottom of the stone steps to Dun Moray. The spires of his home now seemed sinister against the backdrop of the roiling clouds, occasionally illuminated with flashes of lightning.
Energy crackled in the very air between them. The ground was alive with it, and it sparked from the Crone’s silver eyes as he approached.
“I’ve never understood you, King Malcolm,” Badb spoke down at him from the top of the stairs, where she and the vicious girl/child, Nemain, blocked the entrance to the keep. “For a man of such power, you certainly lack vision.”
“I’m envisioning ye in yer grave,” Malcolm growled.
Badb’s cackle sounded like the crunch of gravel beneath a boot. “To say such things to your family,” she tisked.
“You’re no kin of ours,” Morgana said, her fingers twitching as she drew power into her hands and connected with the waters of the loch.
“I am a de Moray.” Badb lifted the Grimoire, the wind flipping the pages of the ancient tome until it fell open. “There are four de Moray’s behind one gate. The Prophecy of Four has foretold that we will be the ones to open the Seven Seals and bring about the Apocalypse.”
“Ye know I’d never do that,” Malcolm vowed. “I’d die before I succumbed to yer evil.”
Badb’s eyes flared, and she stepped forward, brandishing the book at him as she descended the stairs with the languor of a victor. “Evil?” she purred. “You men are always so short-sighted. You think there is only good, and only evil. You plant your flag on one side or the other and you fight to the death in service to the light or to the dark.”
“I will always choose the light.” He said this without hesitation, and still the crone laughed at him.
“It is easy for evil to take purchase in the soul of a good man.” Badb stopped three steps above him, bringing them all but face to face. “Bliss can be found in a sin, and bitterness often follows a good deed, is this not so?”
Victorious cries from the wall heralded a triumph over the Army of Souls. Smoke curled into the sky, mixing with the dark clouds and reflecting Kenna’s flames as though they licked skyward from the bowels of the Underworld.
“Your minions are defeated,” Malcolm informed his enemies.
Badb shrugged. “What need have I of them when I have the two of you? Once I help our master rise from the deep and seize what is left after the Apocalypse, the Army of the Damned will be my minions, and I will rule them with unimaginable power.”
“Ye’re delusional,” Malcolm spat.
“I’m a visionary,” she corrected. “And I’m willing to share that power with you, King Malcolm. I’ll give you a piece of my paradise when this is all over. And also, grant you what you desire most in this world, if you and your sister do what I want.”
With a wave of her gnarled finger and a whispered curse, a portal opened up on the steps right in front of them, a window to the Void. There, naked and curled in on herself, was Vían, shivering in a hole of desolation and anguish, whispering his name as though it were a prayer to the gods.
Morgana’s gasp seemed far away as Malcolm lunged for the portal, calling out to the woman on the ground.
Vían’s dark head lifted, sightless amethyst eyes searching blindly for his voice.
“Malcolm?” she choked as desperate tears streaked the grime on her face. Struggling to her feet, she put out her arms as if to reach for him, though it was obvious that she couldn’t see in her pitch-black prison. “Malcolm, are you here? I can hear you.”
Badb clenched her fist and the portal disappeared.
“She’ll think you came for her,” Nemain giggled. “How cruel.”
Morgana lifted both of her hands, making an intricate sign with her fingers and commanded a pillar of water to rise from the loch and douse the small fire witch. “Silence, you
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