And with the blossoming pain came renewed rage. Growling, Duncan grappled with his brother.
Blood.
Vaguely, Duncan realized that he was bleeding heavily from the wound on his shoulder. He struggled to keep Colin from burying the dirk in him again, fighting a sudden light-headed sensation that was caused as much by his fury as from his wound. His fists found their mark on Colin’s resisting flesh again. And again. With each blow, with every groan his brother uttered, Duncan felt a greater desire to continue. He wanted him dead. Wanted to feel his life pulse to a finish beneath his hands.
With a bellow of fear, Colin managed to break free. He lifted the dirk, jabbing down in blind panic, but Duncan grabbed a silver candlestick from the table and raised it just in time. Metal sparked on metal as blade and silver collided. He followed through his upward motion, catching the edge of the weapon with the candlestick’s footed bottom, sending it spinning away to clatter on the floor out of reach.
“Now there’s nothing left to hide behind,” Duncan growled, gripping his brother round the neck. He twisted, and they fell to the floor.
“It doesn’t matter, so long as you end up dead at the end,” Colin retorted, though his voice sounded strangled with Duncan’s arm around his throat. Duncan squeezed tighter, closing his eyes against the pain that surged through his shoulder. He had to hold firm. If he could just keep him like this a little longer. Colin was weakening, he could sense it. Just a little longer…
Stabbing pain jabbed into Duncan’s midsection, spreading additional layers of agony over the already bruised area. Again Colin’s elbow slammed back, and the agony intensified, making Duncan loosen his hold. Through the blurring hurt, he saw Colin roll away, hands to his throat. Heard him gasping for breath. He threw himself forward, knocking Colin to the floor. He heard his brother’s head collide against the stone with a sickening thud…
And then all was still. He lay unmoving.
In the beats of silence that followed, Duncan heard the harsh rasp of his own breathing. Gradually, his blinding rage cleared, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His shoulder burned as if with fire, but Aileana was there, her cool hands moving over him to check his wound. Her soft voice whispered endearments and little panicked sounds of worry.
Gently pressing her hands away, Duncan twisted to look at her. Anger surged anew when he saw her cut lip and the bluish, painful-looking swelling along the graceful arch of her cheekbone.
He brushed his fingers over the spot, and guilt welled up to choke him. “Forgive me, Aileana. I didn’t stop the bastard in time to keep him from hurting you.”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. She gazed at him for a long moment before answering. “You saved me from much worse.” Tears slid down her cheeks, then, and she clasped his hands as if convincing herself that he was whole and safe.
Duncan pulled her close, wincing at the pain it caused him. He tried to ignore the black spots dancing across his vision.
Then suddenly, he stiffened. A strange, keening sound rose up from outside. “What the hell?” His gaze snapped to the window, and he noticed for the first time the crimson streak of light that spilled into the chamber like a river of blood.
“God preserve us,” Aileana whispered. “It’s Morgana.” She pushed herself to her feet, hurrying to the window, and Duncan saw her pale before his eyes. “She’s got theEalach, Duncan. The sun is going down, and she’s starting the incantation.”
“Christ.” Alarm filled him, followed by cold certainty. If all of the legends about theEalachwere true, then what Morgana was about to do posed a danger far greater than anything they’d faced thus far.
He shoved himself to his knees, almost falling over as dizziness engulfed him. Through sheer strength of will, he made it to the window. Black clouds rumbled on the horizon, seeming to build and roil with greater force as the seconds passed. Morgana looked the picture of ancient evil, standing along the cliff. Her arms were upraised, her hair whipping in the wind as she called the timeless words to invoke theEalach’s power.
“We have to go,” he said. “We cannot let her finish the incantation.”
Aileana was running for the door, with Duncan just behind her, but he was jerked to a halt by a punishing grip clamped to his ankle.
“You’re going nowhere,” a voice grated.
Disbelief made Duncan pause long enough for Colin to yank hard, sending him toppling to the floor. In an instant, his brother was over him, his fist cocked. As if from outside of himself, Duncan saw the punch coming. He tried to tighten against it…
The impact sent shafts of pain into his jaw and up behind his eyes. Instinctively he lurched upward, throwing Colin off balance, reversing their positions. He gripped Colin round the throat, squeezing and fighting through tearing splinters of pain that shot into his shoulder and arm.
“Go, Aileana!” Duncan twisted his head for an instant to meet her gaze. “Stop her before it’s too late! I’ll be right behind you.” As he spoke, Colin renewed his struggles, and Duncan shouted as his brother slammed his fist into his wounded shoulder.
“I cannot leave you like this,” she cried. “I won’t—”
“Go!” He twisted to glance at her again, desperate urgency in his gaze. “I cannot hold him down much longer.”
With a strangled cry, Aileana paused. Then with a last, torn look, she nodded and ran out the door.
At that moment, Colin broke free. He slammed another punch into Duncan’s face, knocking him onto his back. Through the pain, he saw Colin roll to his side. His brother coughed, and Duncan shook his head, trying to clear away the double images that floated across his vision.
With deliberate concentration, he forced himself to his knees. Suddenly, Colin stiffened. He was staring at something, and Duncan followed his gaze to a spot near the wall. To the place on the stones where the bloodied dagger lay.
Uttering a choking growl, Colin began to drag himself toward the dirk, and Duncan’s mind screamed in protest. He had to stop him. He pulled himself forward, ignoring the pain. His muscles ached, and his bones throbbed. He had to finish this, or Aileana would pay the price for his failure. Lurching to his feet, Duncan stumbled toward the dagger. He fell onto his hands, shouting with the agony that tore into his shoulder as it jarred. Colin was ahead of him, trying to stand, preparing to lunge for the blade himself. With desperate effort, Duncan threw himself forward. His bloody fingers slipped on the dirk’s golden handle, and it slid another inch away.
Time seemed to slow. As if in a dream, Duncan felt every breath, every beat of his heart. His senses tuned to a fine pitch. His mouth tasted bitter, and he smelled the sweet, sickening scent of his own blood. He could hear a rustling sound behind him, over him, heard his brother’s growling roar as he leapt to grab the dagger. In that instant, Duncan found his grip on the ornate handle. He twisted in reflex, onto his side, the blade up…
