Awaken the Highland Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

ancient demons. The sky lit violet, and Druan’s yellow eyes found Faelan. The demon rode closer. Tristol, Malek, and Voltar followed, in demon form as well. They seemed puzzled to see Faelan. The remaining horsemen, halflings, and demons, closed in around them.
    Faelan shoved the man behind him. He’d have to destroy Druan by hand and save the talisman’s power for the rest. It wouldn’t be strong enough to kill them all, but it might give the man with him a chance to escape. There was no way out for Faelan. He would die. His only hope was to take Druan and as many with him as he could. “As soon as they’re distracted, run,” he whispered over his shoulder. “I’ll try to hold them off until you’re safe.”
    “Did you think you could stop me, warrior? Stop my war?” Druan hissed as Faelan raised his sword.
    “I will stop you, you bastard,” Faelan yelled over the storm. “We both know this isn’t about war. The war’s just a distraction for this disease you’ve created. You’re planning to destroy every human on earth.” And by the time his clan and the other warriors got the message, it would be too late. Everyone would die.
    Druan’s eyes widened. His thick, gray skin quivered.
    “What disease?” Tristol roared, turning on Druan. Where the others were hideous, Tristol was striking. Long black hair flowed from a face that looked almost human, except for a slight bulge in his forehead. He was rumored to be the closest to the Dark One, hell’s favorite son. What was he doing with Druan?
    “Lies. He tells lies.” Druan looked over Faelan’s shoulder. “What are you waiting for, Grog?”
    “Grog?” Faelan tensed and started to turn as a jarring blow struck his skull. He’d been betrayed. It was over. The world was doomed.
    ***
    He woke hard, chest heaving. He was here, not in the clearing. Not in the time vault. He was in a bed. He remembered the woman opening the vault and helping him inside the house. One minute he’d felt his skull explode, the next, he’d looked into terror-filled green eyes. Human eyes. It seemed an eternity had passed in between. It had, if the woman told the truth, and she must have, or he couldn’t be here.
    Grief hit him again, as it had in the crypt. His mind clawed at the darkness, searching for faces forever lost. A woman’s smile and a lassie with dimples, two lads wrestling in the dirt.
    What had he done?
    A tear formed, but didn’t fall. He had no time for grieving, there was work to do, and he couldn’t ask forgiveness from the dead.
    He touched the talisman. If he wore it, how could the world still stand? Or did it? He’d seen only one human, if she was that. Were there others? What he’d seen outside looked normal, not the wasteland he’d expected. And who’d sent the woman to wake him? Druan? Or one of the other ancients: Tristol? Malek? Voltar? No one else would have known where to look, and Druan had the only key. Someone with knowledge was behind this.
    Faelan flexed his muscles, testing. His strength was returning, though his head felt like a split watermelon. That bastard he’d hired had betrayed him. Probably a bloody minion. He thought of the woman again. She’d saved him, for sure. If not, he could have been in that vault until Judgment. By freeing him, she’d saved mankind. Who was she? She couldn’t be a full demon and enter the graveyard. Was she a halfling? She didn’t smell like one. Or a minion? Then why wake him from suspension, offer him food and a bed? He’d keep quiet and see what part she played in this game. He wouldn’t think about what he’d seen in her eyes. It must be the time vault messing with his senses.
    He sat up and the sheet fell away. He was naked. Her doing, or his? Pushing the covers aside, he stood, his body hard, aching. He needed a woman. Her. He’d dreamed of kissing her, his tongue dancing with hers, but it hadn’t felt like a dream. Was she entering his thoughts like Michael did? No minion could do