Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) (13 page)

“Hold still, ye beast. Hold or breathe yer last.”

The creature froze. The muscles in its scrawny neck vibrated as it swallowed then took a deep breath.

“P-p-please. I did not m-m-mean to disturb.”

Morghan chuckled. “Ye mean ye dinna mean to be discovered. Yer a nauseous thing. What d’ye want?”

“N-n-nothing, kind sir.”

Morghan moved his grip to the creature’s shoulder and clawed his fingers into the tight flesh. “Speak true, or die.”

“Leave him.”

Clutching the creature before him, Morghan turned to face the imperious voice. Arms crossed, legs spread, chin tilted at a haughty angle, a figure stood upon the tallest stone. Morghan knew the man, but before that knowledge settled into his mind it slipped away.

The figure blurred, became clear then blurred again. Ah, a hallucination. The longer he remained in this place the more Morghan had unwelcomed visions of people and places. Once he had come to understand, he had accepted them as his temporary companions.

He released his grip and the creature escaped, scampering up the rocks to stand beside the tall figure. Morghan fought himself for a brief moment, knowing he should care. The physical presence of the insect-like creature had been real. Slumping to the ground, he sat and stared at his hands.

Why hadn’t he been able to hold the creature? To hold on to reality? What happened to his determination? The clarity of only moments before? He shrugged. Didn’t matter. He shrugged again. Did it?

His head felt heavy but he lifted his chin to look up at the figure on the rocks. The leathery creature perched on a stone like a carrion bird, watching. Haloed by the brighter patch of gray indicating a sun, the tall figure moved lower on the hillside.

The air grew warmer, drier. Morghan took a deep breath and frowned. Warmth. No, heat. No... fire. In the space between one breath and the next he knew his foe. Truly knew and fully remembered. He rose slowly to his feet, staring at the fire elemental. At his enemy.

Brandr Ur straddled a low rock, rested one elbow on his knee and cupped his chin in his palm. He watched Morghan silently, an appraising glint in his eyes. With a slow smile he nodded then spoke. “So, in your confusion you believe you know me. Shall I tell you then how I will breach the veil? You shall not stop me again, prince of waters. However misguided, you fought bravely. Perhaps you might enjoy the tale of my victory.”

Morghan solidified his stance, crossing his arms. The position, although lower than the elemental’s, gave him a sense of power, the sense of
being
he’d not felt for a long, long time. In that moment he rediscovered his power, touched his magic. Knew... his soul. As his
self
returned, the confusion flowed away like water released from a dam. He reveled in the realization the enemy did not know he was once again Morghan. Drawing back the triumphant sneer threatening his mouth, he lowered his gaze.

“Tell me?” he mumbled. The elemental would never resist bragging, and perhaps he would learn something to benefit his efforts to finally defeat the evil being.

“You wish to know?” The elemental seemed genuinely surprised at his response.

“I think I do?” Let the lack of surety show. Let the elemental feel he had the upper hand.

Brandr Ur straightened. “Good. I shall enlighten you. Times and opportunities have come to me—by right—and I have found assistance in many worlds beyond this place. Most worlds I care little for. I will leave them under the control of my loyal followers.

“Ah yes. Weak minds are so easy to control. Yet there were others, not so weak. Still, I controlled them, with promises of powers gained, of titles. Promises.” Brandr Ur snorted. “It was so easy for them to believe in promises. Do you realize, prince of waters, that you only need discover the mind’s deepest desire? Once you hold that knowledge in your hand...” He held his palm flat and open then slowly squeezed his fist closed. “Yes, once you hold another’s desire in your hand, it is but a simple matter to exploit it.”

The elemental fell silent, staring at his hand. A blank expression filled his face. Yet his eyes twitched as though he watched something in the distance. Carefully, Morghan glanced sideways to match the elemental’s stare, but could discern nothing but the endless gray of the world between worlds.

Morghan narrowed his eyes. Perhaps this was how Brandr Ur appeared when he ‘spoke’ to beings outside this place.

Feeling the heat of the elemental’s gaze, Morghan turned his attention to his foe. Brandr Ur smiled.

“I know you have questions. Perhaps my words will answer them. Perhaps not.” His shoulders lifted. “You desire to know who aided me in your world, prince of waters?”

Helpless anger crushed the air from Morghan’s chest. He didn’t need to be told who the elemental had used. Or how empty promises of power had controlled his high chancellor. He’d known, yet he hadn’t acknowledged that knowing. Because of his lack of action, he’d placed his world, and the human world, in danger. Those he loved... his shoulders slumped lower as he fought the renewed guilt and memories of failure.

“You don’t remember what happened before.” The elemental made the bland statement and looked away.

To maintain outward calm, Morghan bit the inside of his cheek. He would not show how much he did recall. The anger, sorrow, determination... and now, amazingly, Coralie’s love. He softened his lips to a smile.

“Hmm, perhaps you do.”

Morghan jerked, pulled back the delightful, loving memories of Coralie and glared at the taunting grin spread across Brandr Ur’s face.

“Your brother...”

Morghan clenched his teeth. The muscles of his thighs tightened, quivered with the need to launch himself at his enemy.

“Ah yes, your brother would have done well as my underling. He was stronger than you.” Eyebrows lifted, the elemental watched him expectantly.

“He was.” Morghan would give no more than that. Not an admission of his own weakness, but a statement of honor for his beloved brother, Lachlan.

“Had he listened, had he followed me, I would not have taken his life as sacrifice. I... find I rather liked your brother. There is another, perhaps one now...” Brandr Ur waved one hand. “It is of no consequence. But perhaps you’d be pleased with the victim of sacrifice at this conjunction. I have heard humans say there are no coincidences. That may be true, it may not. And I... I did not know. I did not have a hand in the moment.”

Brandr Ur shook his head in mock dismay. “So, see how the worlds have taken Pagas and contrived to open the way for me once again? It is truly my time of power and glory.”

Satisfaction his high chancellor no longer lived—no matter what the reason—straightened Morghan’s spine. “Ye shall no’ pass me.”

A distain-filled snort answered Morghan. “Yes, yes. I understand. You will fight me... once again. And you will lose... once again. The difference in this time will be that I shall be free of this cursed place. You... if you live, you will remain here.” He shrugged. “I care not what happens to you.”

“Ye shall no’. Ye shall be the one destroyed. Ye shall no’ enter another world.”

“Empty threats, blood of my blood. There is nothing to prevent me. In your dullness, you do understand my words, do you not? None shall stand in my way. I will be free. I will rule as is my right. Defy me and die.”

“Try then. Try now to destroy me. I defy ye.” Fists at his hips, Morghan tossed the challenge into the dry air.

Brandr Ur laughed. “You are not worth my effort, little Alfar. If you wish battle so strongly...” He snapped his fingers and his waiting minion jumped from its rocky perch and cowered before him. Placing one hand as if in blessing upon the creature’s head, Brandr Ur said, “This being will do battle in my stead, prince of waters. Be wary, for it has existed long in this place and is anxious for freedom. I have not yet decided whether to give him your Alfar world, or the world of the humans. Either way, he greatly covets his prize.”

Morghan remained silent. He’d held the creature before, felt the wiry strength. And an odd weakness born of stealth and conniving. He would need to gain the upper hand quickly or the battle could turn long and ugly. He flexed his fingers. With a sword, he would make short work of the vile being.

Shoving the creature away, Brandr Ur turned on his heel. “Finish him. Kill him. Bring me his...” The elemental paused, turned back and smiled. “...his heart. The rest, do what you will.”

The creature licked the edges of its thin-lipped mouth. “Y-y-yes, lord.”

When the creature turned a broken-toothed grin on Morghan, he shuddered. Then he relaxed his stance, rolled his shoulders, and leaned forward on the balls of his feet.

The creature was on him before Brandr Ur disappeared over the hilltop. Snarling and spitting, it clawed at Morghan’s face, trying to poke long digits into his eyes or curl wicked talons around his ears. Morghan protected his face and defended against the creature’s frantic actions, studying his opponent.

A rip of hot pain coursed down his arm and Morghan cried out. A warbling chortle of glee from the creature spat saliva onto his face. The tiny droplets stung with the burn of venom. He’d not accounted for poison. Glancing at the ragged flesh and gaping tear in his upper arm, Morghan steeled his mind against the pain and jerked the creature’s talon from his arm.

Fresh pain staggered him. He collapsed. Rocks tore into his knees and shins. He held fast to his opponent, pushing the dripping fangs from his torn skin. He fell forward pressing the smaller creature beneath him. Pokes and jabs from boney knees forced the air from his diaphragm.

He dared not curse the creature, so wasted no breath on words or unreliable magic. When the creature scrabbled for a handful of dirt, Morghan turned his face, but instead of tossing the dry earth into his eyes, the creature ground the dust and tiny, sharp rocks into the wound on his arm.

Unable to muffle his agony, Morghan turned the creature’s unobservant glee to his advantage. Before the echoes of his cry dissipated in the heavy air, he’d twisted, capturing both of the creature’s stick-like wrists in one hand. The other hand, slick with blood, he curled around the scrawny neck.

He paused, and the creature laughed. “The l-l-lord said you c-c-c-could not kill.” Wide, surprisingly intelligent eyes stared up at him, glittering with malice. “B-b-but I can.”

One of the creature’s hands slipped from Morghan’s grasp and the long fingers wrapped around the wrist of the hand Morghan had encompassing its neck. It twisted and lifted Morghan’s hand.

Morghan shook his head, clearing the path to older memories. With a jerk, he angled his upper body and brought the creature’s own arm across its neck. Pressing his weight against the forearm crushed the creature’s fragile windpipe.

Its eyes widened and it attempted to gasp air into deflating lungs. Twice it tried, twice the long, frantic fingers clutched at Morghan’s arm. With a silent snarling curl of thin lips, the creature died.

Morghan struggled to his feet, clutched his upper arm and backed away. He blinked. Shook his head. Fresh agony seared his belly. In all his years, he’d only twice before willingly killed another. He stared at his fingers. And never with his hands, only with a sword.

He was no warrior.

Heaving breaths filled with physical pain and mental anguish, he watched the dead-eaters slink from whatever holes they inhabited to drag the body away. He shuddered and glanced toward the distant plain, watching the elemental’s retreating form move toward his temple.

He was no warrior, but this Morghan did vow. The elemental would not pass him. By whatever means given him, the elemental would be denied entry to any world. Palm pressed to the slowing drain of blood from his arm, he turned away.

A hot touch filled his mind.
::Perhaps I chose the wrong brother after all.::

T
he well-stocked kitchen was a pleasure to work in and Gowthaman took advantage of the silence to quickly gather and arrange ingredients for breakfast. Something simple, yet nourishing. He froze holding a container of brown, speckled eggs. Would the rescue party carry food with them? Had anyone considered that need? He hadn’t been—there—long enough to know hunger. He set the eggs on the counter and reached for a small bowl. Had he remained, he didn’t believe he would ever have felt hunger. Felt anything at all.

Concern over missing a possibly important factor washed over him. Straightening his spine, he shoved at the concern, dislodging it only slightly. Searlait had addressed this. He closed his eyes to visualize a page in his journal. No nourishment nor liquid were necessary to maintain life. However, he would suggest carrying water and protein bars. If for nothing more than to maintain a semblance of normality in a place where normal was an emptiness of nothing.

He pulled a cutting board from a low cupboard.

“Well now, that’s what I like to see. A man who knows his proper place.”

He froze at Lucidea’s droll statement, then took an oddly-shaped Faerie knife from a wooden block. “I thought to make myself useful.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Breanna said. Delighted with the sound of her voice, he closed his eyes to let the melodious tones flow over him. Just her voice could heal him—if he would allow.

The women moved further into the kitchen until they hovered behind him. “You may set the table,” he said. “It will not be long until breakfast.”

Bree leaned over his shoulder and he inhaled the spicy floral scent of her hair. The aroma skated along his senses, tugging at his heart.

“Oh, good,” she said as she turned back to Lucidea. “He’s making scrambled eggs. Unless...” She touched his shoulder and he held back a sigh of longing. “Unless you’re fixing omelets.”

He cleared his throat. “Which would you prefer?”

“Plain old scrambled eggs, please. Of course I still want all that stuff you have out on the counter in them.”

“Of course.” Gowthaman managed a smile. Breanna had an almost passionate love of scrambled eggs. Such a simple thing and yet she found such joy and delight with each bite. Passion filled her, spilled out into everything she did. Frustrated with himself for recognizing her passions yet refusing to allow her to share with him, he whacked an egg on the side of the bowl, shattering the shell.