Dark Rival by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HQN
Published: 2007-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

ROYCE HAD CLIMBED up to the curtain tower closest to the foremost gatehouse, as the north wall defended the moat and the drawbridge. The south walls were not breachable, as they perched on the cliffs dropping hundreds of feet to the Atlantic Ocean below. Allie had asked if she could come up and he’d nodded. She stood beside him, wearing a boy’s mail shirt, her hip against his thigh. Every tower and every rampart was occupied by archers, knights, bowmen and the huge, deadly-looking crossbows that fired bolts the size of swords. Barrels of boiling liquids were being brought up. Allie stared to the north, filled with sick anxiety and dread.

This was all because of her. Why was this happening? Why, out of the blue, had Moffat come after her in South Hampton that night?

She glanced at Royce. At least they were in this together. As invincible as he seemed, his death in the future had proven his mortality. If anything happened to him, she’d be close by to heal him—no matter what.

Allie hoped Royce didn’t want to die in the fifteenth century, too.

His gaze slid to her and locked with hers. “I won’t be dyin’ today.”

Allie took his hand. His gray eyes flickered with surprise but he didn’t pull away. “No, you won’t. Claire has some healing power, too, doesn’t she?”

“Some. I saw her heal Malcolm with my own eyes when he was fatally wounded by Moray. She dinna heal him completely, Ailios, but she saved his life by stoppin’ his bleeding.”

“It’s better than nothing. She can help.”

“Ailios, her powers are nothin’ like yours. An’ Claire’s a warrior. She fights with Malcolm, although I dinna ken how he fights with his woman at his side.”

Allie was impressed. But Claire looked really strong—as if she could seriously kick some ass.

Allie turned to stare to the north; Royce gently tugged his hand free. She let him. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, she’d be thrilled that he’d held her hand, even if for a minute.

The isle of Mull was really charming, Allie thought. Other areas were majestic—like Carrick. Facing her, gentle, forested hills rolled into a vivid blue sky dotted with cotton-puff clouds. As she stared, the black cloud so close now that her gut roiled and the hairs on her nape stood up, she saw a herd of deer emerge from the closest ridge, three does and a buck taking flight across the rocky road leading to the barbican.

“They’re here,” Royce said flatly.

For one more moment, Allie did not move.

From that tree line, the demon army emerged.

A line of giant men, clad in armor and mail, helmets glistening in the sun, their bows on their backs, marched down the ridge toward Dunroch’s walls. The foremost men carried large crimson and black pennants.

Allie fought for composure.

More men, pack horses, equipment and machines followed—battering rams with iron heads, catapults like those in the courtyard below, and oddly, plank wood fencing, and carts carrying tall ladders.

“T’is nay fencing,” Royce said grimly. “T’is shields fer their archers an’ the men who will try to scale the walls.

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