Spellbound

against a power such as mine?” Arrogance and rage rang in Alasdair’s voice as he hurled arrows of flame. His cry echoed monstrously as the arrows struck Cal’s cloak and melted into water.
    “Your power is nothing here.”
    Bryna was on her feet again, her white robe swirling likefoam. And her face so glowed with beauty that both men stared in wonder.
    “I am the guardian of this place.” Her voice was deeper, fuller, as if a thousand voices joined it. “I am a witch whose power flows clean. I am a woman whose heart is bespoken. I am the keeper of all you will never own. Fear me, Alasdair. And fear the warrior who stands with me.”
    “He will not stand with you. And what you guard, I will destroy.” With fists clenched, he called the flames, shot the torches from their homes to wheel and burn and scorch the air. “You will bow yet to my will.”
    With lifted arms, Bryna brought the rain, streaming pure and cool through the flames to douse them. And felt as the damp air swirled, the power pour through her, from her, as rich and potent as any she’d known.
    “Save this place,” Alasdair warned, “and lose the man.” He whirled on Cal, sneered at the lifted sword. “Remember death.”
    Like a blade sliced through the belly, the agony struck. Blood flowed through his numbed fingers, and the sword clattered onto the wet stone. He saw his death, leaping like a beast, and heard Bryna’s scream of fear and rage.
    “You will not harm him. It’s trickery only, Calin, hear me.” But her terror for him was so blinding that she ran to him, leaving the charm of the circle.
    The bolt of energy slapped her like a jagged fist, sent her reeling, crumbling. Paralyzed, she fought for her strength but found the power that had flowed so pure and true now only an ebbing flicker.
    “Calin.” The hand she’d flung out to shield him refused to move. She could only watch as he knelt on the stones, unarmed, bleeding, beyond her reach. “You must believe,” she whispered. “Trust. Believe or all is lost.”
    “He loses faith, you lose your power.” Robes singed and smoking, Alasdair stood over her. “He is weak and blind, and you have proven yourself more woman than witch to trade your power for his life.”
    Reaching down, he grabbed her hair and dragged her roughly to her knees. “You have nothing left,” he said toher. “Give me the globe, come to me freely, and I will spare you from pain.”
    “You will have neither.” She gripped the amulet, despairing that its chamber was empty. She bit off a cry as icy fingers squeezed viciously around her heart.
    “From this time and this place, you are in bondage to me for a hundred years times ten. And this pain you feel will be yours to keep until you bend your will to mine.”
    He lowered his gaze to her mouth. “A kiss,” he said, “to seal the spell.”
    She was wrenched out of his arms, her fingers locked with Cal’s. Even as she whispered his name, he stepped in front of her, raised the sword in both hands so that it shimmered silver and sharp.
    “Your day is done.” Cal’s eyes burned and the pain swirling through him only added to his strength. “Can you bleed, wizard?” he demanded and brought the sword down like fury.
    There was a cry, ululating, inhuman, a stench of sulphur, a blinding flash. The ground heaved, the stones shook, and lightning, cold and blue, speared out of the air and struck.
    The explosion lifted him off his feet. Even as he grabbed for Bryna, Cal felt the hot, greedy hand of it hurl him into the whirling air, into the dark.

C HAPTER 10
    Visions played through his head. Too many to count. Voices hummed and murmured. Women wept. Charms were chanted. He swam through them, weighed down with weariness.
    Someone told him to sleep, to be easy, but he shook off the words and the phantom hands that stroked his brow.
    He had slept long enough.
    He came to, groggy, aching in every bone. The thin light of pre-dawn filtered the air. He thought he heard whispering, but decided it was just the beat of the sea and the flow of the wind through grass.
    He could see the last of the stars just winking out. And with a moan, he turned his head and tried to shake off the dream.
    The cat was watching him, sitting patiently, her eyes unblinking. Dazed, he pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing from the pain, and saw that he was lying on the ground outside the ruins.
    Gone were the tall silver spears, the glowing torches that had lighted the great