Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (46 page)

You should. You should at least slaughter me. I deserve it.
“You’re right, traitha. My father treated you shamefully. I have compounded his sins. I beg your forgiveness.”

Edgar considered him. “I have no authority to treat with you for the tribes, but those words will have much weight with Hrogarth.”

“Then I will share them with him.” Braedan paused. “Esma says Mac Rian stole the Mac Niall estate. Is it true? Did he bring false accusations against Culain Mac Niall?”

“Your father wanted to break the treaty and take tribal land. Mac Rian supported him. Culain Mac Niall petitioned his fellow dukes to sanction your father as was their right as members of the Table. They could have unseated him as regent and chosen another. Instead, your father and Mac Rian accused him of treason, branded him a traitor, and attacked his holdings in the night.”

“Why?”

“Your father claimed it was to have access to timber, resources, the west coast, but Mac Rian and his daughter were so close to his ear that I think they wanted the reliquary even then. Your father promised the Mac Niall holdings to Mac Rian in exchange for his help and his daughter.”

A shiver skipped down Braedan’s spine. “My father and Olwyn Mac Rian?”
It’s true?

Edgar nodded. “She sank her talons deep into his heart, boy. She was only sixteen, but once your father had a taste of her, he couldn’t put her aside. He would have given her a throne if the law had let him.”

Braedan closed his eyes, composed himself, and opened his eyes again. “Who would you have me put in Mac Rian’s place? Someone must run the estate.”

“Connor Mac Niall.”

“There are rumors about him.”

“You can see what rumors have wrought. Connor believes Taura has nothing for him. Give him something to come home to.”

“Who is his mother?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Braedan swallowed hard. “My men will not come into the forest. When Mac Rian is committed, we will stay on the road to protect the people of Kiern. We will not threaten any tribal warrior unless he comes across the road to the town. Will you be able to take care of Mac Rian?”

Edgar scoffed. “A game. What about the holdings?”

“I’ll restore the Mac Niall name and give the estate to Connor Mac Niall once Mac Rian is dead. But until he returns, who should be the steward of the estate?”

Edgar twisted the dagger, turned it hilt first, and handed it back to Braedan. “I’ll trust you to choose someone who will run it well. But promise me this: you’ll get the sorceress Olwyn off these lands. She poisons them with her presence.”

And to think I was tempted by her body.
“Sorceress?”

Edgar nodded. “She has sought Namha since her youth. She desires power, and she is not afraid to conjure dark magic to get it.”

“Once Mac Rian is dead, I can make her a ward of the crown and marry her off to some distant duke. Will that do?”

“The land will not be happy until she is dead.”

“I can’t murder her. I am the king.”

“Then we’ll do what we can.” Edgar glanced at the sky. “The sun is lowering. I promise you, Mac Rian will not live out the day tomorrow. Return Esma to us after the battle.”

“I will.”

Edgar turned away to join his warriors. He scrambled into a tree, and Braedan gathered his things and returned to the estate.

***

Maeve stood at the edge of the Sidh village as the sun dropped below the horizon. Edgar had promised to bring news of the earth guardian, but Maeve couldn’t still the fluttering of her stomach.
I’m a foolish girl. But it’s been almost seven years since I’ve had a man’s arms around me.
She shook her head and drew a deep breath.
There are dozens of Sidh men who would make appropriate consorts,
she thought, and then felt heat creep up her face.
But no Sidh man looks at me the way Edgar does.

“Maeve.”

She spun, her hand flying to her chest, as Edgar dropped down from a tree next to her. “Edgar!”

He chuckled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “That was fun.”

She waved away the comment. “Did they find your guardian?”

“Yes.” Edgar’s eyes flickered over her body and back to her face. “Mac Rian’s men will be here at dawn.”

“We’ll be ready.” A long silence fell. “You should go get some rest.”

“I can never sleep before a hunt or a battle.” He tipped his head at her and grinned. “Perhaps I should find something else to do.”

He’s testing me.
She straightened her shoulders and affected her best regal air. “I’m sure some tribal woman can help you pass the time.”

He stepped even closer and leaned down just enough to let her feel his breath near her neck. She shivered, and her breath quickened. “Good night, Maeve.”

Decades of memories flooded her thoughts.
I could have chosen him. I could have lived with him, here in the forest, my whole life. I wouldn’t have had the divided life I lived with Culain.
But then she remembered Culain’s blue eyes and roguish smile, and she shook her head.
I loved him, too. I loved two men, and I chose one, and I don’t regret it. But now, Culain’s gone and Edgar is here.
She stared at his tattooed arms and imagined them around her, and her feet took a hesitant half-step toward him. She caught herself and stepped back.

His hands twitched toward her, but he reined them in. He stepped back, bowed, and disappeared into the trees.

Maeve released a deep, shuddering breath.
I should not want him. I should not be thinking of him that way. He’s tribal, and I’m Sidh. If she could see my thoughts, my mother would bind me in braids until spring!

But the trees rustled around her, and Maeve thought for a moment that she could feel a pair of piercing green eyes staring down at her. Her hand went to her neck, and she laughed softly at the frantic beat of her heart. “Good night, Edgar,” she whispered.
Perhaps the next time I say it, you’ll be next to me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Not all myths are untrue,

And not all legends fade.

— Wisdom of the earth guardians

Braedan returned to the camp to find Malcolm and Ewan waiting in the guard tent with a villager dressed in homespun servant clothes. The woman had a humble beauty under several scars on her face. She held a dusty book in her lap. She ducked her eyes when Braedan entered the tent, and Malcolm stepped close to the king. “This woman is a servant to the lady Olwyn. She has something to say about what happened here six years ago.”

“Where did you find her?”

“On a farm outside the city. She lives there with her family and serves the lady during the day.” His face was tense. “She’s terrified that Olwyn will find out we’re speaking with her. I promised her your protection.”

Braedan stood in front of the woman with arms folded. “You know something about what happened here six years ago?”

She nodded. “I was with the lady when she brought the assassins to the estate.” Her voice rasped, and then Braedan noticed scars on her neck as well. “Duke Mac Niall—he came out of his estate with his sword in hand, and his men fought, but she did something to them. She spoke strange words, old words.” She frowned. “I didn’t understand it.”

Braedan crouched and took one of her hands. “Why were you there?”

She gestured to the scars on her face. “She said she needed strength. I don’t know what she did, but when she touched me, I couldn’t breathe. And I saw things—memories, horrible things I’d done.”

Braedan’s knees went weak, and he sank all the way to the ground.
Just like the dark man did to me. What are these creatures?

The woman swiped at her eyes. “When I was too weak to stand, she gave me to one of her assassins. He cut me.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “She said I was unquickened. She needed unquickened blood.”

Braedan frowned. “Unquickened?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what that meant, but when she had enough of my blood, she told him to bind my wounds and take me back to her father’s estate.”

Braedan’s mouth was dry, and the men around him had fallen into a sickened silence. “Did she say what she was trying to do?”

The woman shook her head. “If she did, I didn’t hear. They killed Mac Niall and his children—all but his son. They couldn’t find him.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Olwyn watched it all. She seemed to . . .” She bit her lip.

Braedan forced himself to swallow over the lump in his throat. “Tell me, even if it doesn’t sound possible.”

She closed her eyes. “She seemed to feed off it. Not the people dying. That didn’t bother her. She seemed more interested in what the assassins did—how they hurt people, the things they did to the women.”

Braedan’s stomach twisted. He hated that he had to ask the next question. “How can I know you are telling the truth? How can I know you weren’t sent here by her?”

She lifted the book in her lap. “I found this when Mac Rian started to rebuild the manor house. There was an old stone vault that wasn’t destroyed in the fire. I found Duke Mac Niall’s journal in it, and I hid it from my mistress. He wrote about Mac Rian’s treachery, about his attempts to encroach on Mac Niall holdings. He saw the lady Olwyn performing dark magic once. He recorded how your father wanted to take tribal lands.” She started to hand it to him, but paused and bit her lip. “He wrote about his private life as well, majesty—about his son and his son’s mother. I would not wish to damage his family name further.”

Braedan closed her hands around the book. “I need the words in this book, but I swear to you, I will not use this against the Mac Niall family.”

She nodded and let go of it. “Sire, I knew his son. Connor. He was kind to me once. Please, don’t believe the rumors.”

“I don’t.” He took the book and turned to Malcolm. “Find some men to take her back to her family. Help them gather what they can, and then take them somewhere that Olwyn can’t find them—east, perhaps. Tell the men they can return to Torlach when they have settled her family.” Malcolm bowed and left the tent. Braedan turned back to the woman. “Thank you, lady. You have done a great service to a good man today.”

Braedan found a guard to escort him to the small town prison. He found Esma sitting in a pile of fresh rushes on the floor of a tiny stone cell. She stood when the Taurin guard unlocked the door. “What have you chosen?” she asked.

“I’ve seen your traitha. We’ve reached an agreement.”

She nodded. “Then what do you want with me?”

He hesitated. “I want to know what Olwyn did here six years ago. I want to know what she is.”

Esma bit her lip. “I don’t know it all. I was not here six years ago. But I can tell you that there are two kinds of power—supernatural and natural. Within natural magic are all of those things created by the One—by Alshada. The Brae Sidh practice elemental magic and some spirit magic. Long ago, the tribes practiced totem magic, and now we practice earth magic, which means we give the earth our sacrifices and she gives us life. And some practice blood magic. Olwyn is one of those.”

“What does that mean?”

“Blood is powerful, but it is neither good nor bad. It gives life, and when spilled in sacrifice, it can create powerful wards and connections. But Olwyn is one of those who knows how to use blood to weaken wards, destroy bonds, bind victims to herself, create glamours, even conjure Namha from his prison.” She shuddered and rubbed the brand on her palm. “She must die. She poisons the earth.”

Braedan found his hand on the hilt of the sacred dagger, and he shifted his posture. “Where were you six years ago?”

She blinked and looked away. “I have not always been a guardian. I have only just returned to the tribe.”

He nodded. “You are Taurin.”

She didn’t move. “I am many things, sire. For now, I am Esma.”

He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. “I will do what I can to defeat Olwyn.”

She gestured to the blade in his belt. “Keep that close. There is power in the sacred blades.”

He nodded. “I’ll return you to your tribe after the battle.” He returned to the Taurin encampment and fell into a restless, anxious sleep.

When the men around him stirred in the morning, Braedan stood and started to dress for battle. Groans and complaints about the hour rippled through the tent, but the men all stood, shook off sleep, and dressed for battle. One of the cooks brought food, and the men ate and drank.

They all emerged from the tent to an unnatural darkness. Malcolm shivered. “There’s magic here.”

Braedan’s skin tingled. “Look—fog.”

Malcolm frowned. “That’s not fog—that’s oremist.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Fog is natural. This is magic. The Brae Sidh are creating it. It’s water bound with the elements of the earth.”

For the first time, Braedan believed the Sidh were real. The fingers of oremist drifted low along the ground, weaving around their feet. Braedan hoped he had not misplaced his trust in Edgar. His hand drifted to the dagger. The bone hilt reassured him. “Let’s go.”

Braedan walked through the lines of his own forces. They were putting on greaves and bracers, belting themselves with blades, and stringing bows. His captains called orders and formed up lines.

Braedan and his guards approached Mac Rian. “Majesty. Have you decided to join us?” Mac Rian asked.

“We are only here to defend the town,” Braedan said. “If the tribesmen come across the road, we’ll engage them, but the fight in the trees is yours.”

Mac Rian’s mouth tightened. He stepped closer to Braedan. “You are my liege. You owe—”

“I owe you nothing,” Braedan said.

“I supported your bid for the throne. I supported your father. You would abandon your duties now?”

“You stole this seat. I never agreed with my father when he gave you these holdings. You violated Taura’s most ancient treaty.” He paused. “The throne will not be yours. Olwyn will not be my queen. There is nothing to gain from this. Leave it now, and I’ll help you restore the Mac Rian estates.”

Mac Rian gripped his sword and took a step toward Braedan, but Malcolm stepped between the two men. He put his hand on Mac Rian’s chest. “This is your king, my lord,” he said in a lethal tone. “Reconsider your posture.”

Mac Rian’s straightened his shoulders, his mouth twisted in an angry grimace. He tugged on his gauntlets. “The sun is rising. Let’s go.”

Mac Rian walked to the front of his line and signaled his captain. A drumroll started. Mac Rian’s men advanced into the forest with swords held high, shouting the house motto:
For glory and victory!
The oremist swallowed Mac Rian’s men as it rose in a thick curtain high into the trees, obscuring everything in the forest.

The world held its breath in a long pause broken only by the drumroll. A shout, a thud, steel on steel, and the battle was begun, the sounds magnified by the mists.

Far to the north of the line, something caught Braedan’s eye. Several figures pulled a struggling person into the fog. Lagging behind was a tall, lithe figure wearing a dark cloak and gliding with unmistakable grace.
Olwyn. I said I wouldn’t enter the forest, but if she’s taking someone in there for one of her spells, I can’t sit by and let it happen.
He nudged Malcolm. “Let’s go.”

“You would break your word to Edgar?”

“To destroy Olwyn? Yes.”

Braedan led Malcolm, Ewan, and two other black-clad guards into the forest behind Olwyn. As they drew nearer, they could hear the muffled cries of a woman and hushed orders as the figures disappeared into the mists. A faint, unnatural light illuminated the group’s path. The mists clung to the dark underbrush like a silken veil. Braedan pushed leaves and branches aside as he crept forward. He brushed the mist out of his eyes.
It’s like spidersilk,
he thought, flinging it aside and brushing his hands on his breeches.

The group had stopped, and the voices grew louder as Braedan and his guards approached with silent steps. “—can’t see a thing—this mist—can’t you do something?” a man’s voice complained.

“This is Brae Sidh magic.” Olwyn’s voice held a tone of disgust. “I have no skill against elemental talents.” A woman grunted in pain. “Bind her tighter,” Olwyn said.

Braedan inched closer, the mists parting a fraction at a time as he moved. He pushed aside the branches of a scrubby bush and suppressed a gasp of horror.

The light Olwyn conjured illuminated the small clearing with a sick yellow hue. Olwyn had Esma stripped naked and tied to a tree, her hands bound behind her.

Olwyn nodded to the four men who had tied Esma, and they moved away. She removed her cloak and stepped closer to Esma, toying with a curved blade in her hand. Esma’s eyes were wide with undisguised terror. Olwyn glanced over Esma’s body and fixed her eyes on the guardian’s foot. “An animstone. For what, I wonder?” She knelt and sliced the stone from Esma’s ankle. She held up the stone in the light. “Are you Sidh?”

Esma blinked furiously, and tears rolled down her cheeks as her breathing became more panicked.

Olwyn touched Esma’s throat, and Esma started to choke and gasp under the gag. Olwyn took her hand away. “You are Sidh, but just barely.” She tapped her lips with the curved blade. “If we cannot reveal the Sidh village with your earth magic, then perhaps we will find a way to reveal the village through your blood. I’m sure you’ll tell us where to go once you and I have become better acquainted.” She stepped closer, the blade shimmering in the unnatural light, and held up the blade near a tattoo on Esma’s chest. A thin, red line trickled down Esma’s breast. “Your tattoos are repulsive. I think I’ll remove them one at a time until you reveal the Sidh village.”

Braedan’s throat constricted.
How did she get Esma?
And then, as his heart started to race,
I’ve never done more than brawl in a tavern or spar in the armory. How will I take on a sorceress?
He gripped the hilt of his sword and prodded Malcolm with an elbow. “Ideas?” he whispered.

“Just leap out and take them,” Malcolm murmured.

Braedan swallowed fear and nodded. He drew the tribal blade from his belt, nodded once to his men, and charged.

Olwyn whirled around. A sneer curled her mouth. She clutched Esma’s neck again, and the guardian choked and wheezed. Olwyn put her knife above Esma’s heart. “Do you want her to die?”

Braedan stopped, blades drawn, stomach churning, heart racing. “Let her go. Take me. I’ll help you find the Sidh, I swear, but this woman—”

Olwyn laughed, a low, silken sound that tickled Braedan’s ears, even through the fear. “If you could have found the Sidh, love, you’d have given them to the one who bound you.” She pressed the blade, and Esma whimpered. She struggled for breath under Olwyn’s hand, her chest heaving, blood trickling down to her belly. “This one will lead me to them. Lower your weapons, and I’ll spare her. Attack me, and I will kill you both and find another.” She gestured toward the distant sounds of battle. “Once the tribe is subdued, the earth guardians will be easy to find.”

Braedan’s hands shook. “Your father won’t win this.”

She gave him a languid smile. “He will,
sire
.” The title dripped with venom. “Did you think I would let him go into battle with only the soldiers from his estates?”