Once again the black mist churned and gyrated, gathering strength for another onslaught. Bridget, unaware of the danger, struggled to her feet and picked up the sword, holding it point down to support her as she stood.
He was close enough now—hehadto be.
Hall tore one of the scrolls from his bag and ripped the ribbon from around it, holding it up at his side like a knight carrying a banner into battle.
The mist pulsed as if it were being pulled apart before stretching out into a long, thin strand of black thread. It flowed toward him to cover the face of the scroll, a writhing, living mass. So much weight was added to the scroll, Hall was forced to drop his reins and use two hands to roll it back up. Once rolled, he dropped it into the bag and turned his horse to race toward the men who followed.
“Gather the jewels!” he barked at Eric, the first to reach him. “Put them inside the bag to secure the scroll. You must hurry!”
He handed off the bag, relying on his companion to carry out his instructions. It had to be done immediately, before the Beast could recover and escape.
Then Hall turned his horse to see Torquil on his feet, advancing on Bridget.
“IREMEMBER YOU,”Torquil snarled, his eyes wild, but with the madness of mere man, not the Beast. “You tried to kill me, and then you escaped my vengeance.”
“As you escaped mine,” Brie replied, struggling to lift the sword.
Her encounter with the essence of the Beast had weakened her, as if the hideous mist that had engulfed her had sucked away her life force to bolster its own energy.
Even weak, she was still a match for the bastard advancing on her. One arm hung limply at his side, blood staining the shoulder of his tunic where her sword had already connected. His movements were further hampered by the arrow broken off in his thigh.
It would be easy enough to run him through, if only she could manage to lift the damn sword. Easy enough, had she not completely lost her appetite for killing this man. It was the Beast that was responsible for her father’s death. The Beast that needed to pay.
The realization hit hard, clouding her eyes with welling tears. If she killed Torquil now, she’d be no better than him. No different at all.
“Stay where you are, MacDowylt. The time has come for you to answer for yer crimes. My friends will be here soon enough.”
Torquil’s face was distorted in a crazed grin, all his madness on open display.
“I may well travel to the next world this day. But I willna travel alone.” He pulled a wicked-looking blade from a sheath he wore strapped at his side and lunged forward.
Brie sidestepped his attack, dragging the sword she still couldn’t lift to circle around Torquil, her back now to cliffs. From this vantage, she had a clear view of her rescuers racing toward her. She had only to hold the madman off for a few minutes to allow them to reach her.
If only the madman would cooperate.
Already he lumbered toward her, blade raised, eyes glazed over with his madness, a cry of rage on his lips.
Brie struggled to lift the sword for her defense as the world around her slowed to a crawl. Though her muscles were weak, her senses seemed sharper than ever, as if the gods themselves wanted her to experience her last moments on earth to their fullest.
The ground under her feet vibrated with the pounding hooves that couldn’t possibly reach her in time. Rain pelleted her face, and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks far below warred with a distant thunder rumbling in the heavens.
Torquil slammed into her and she dropped the sword to fasten both hands around his wrist, focusing all her energy on holding off the dagger he swung toward her face. As they struggled, her feet slid on the slippery ground and she lost her balance, tumbling backward.
The ground came up fast to meet her, slamming against her and stealing her breath. She managed to keep a tight grip around Torquil’s wrist, though with him on top of her, his blade was mere inches above her shoulder.
His teeth bared, he looked more like a rabid animal than a man as he forced the blade closer to her body.
She’d underestimated her opponent. She wasn’t a match for him in her current state. Unless she did something drastic, she couldn’t hold on much longer.
Sometimes in life, you must let go in order to hold on.
Orabilis’s words shimmered in her memory and she gave herself over to them.
“I pray yer right,” she muttered, releasing one hand from Torquil’s wrist.
Freed from her hold, the blade plunged into the top of her arm as she dug the fingers of her free hand into the wound on Torquil’s shoulder.
He screamed with agony and threw himself back away from her, grabbing her braid as he rolled over the edge of the cliff.