When she set out again, she focused part of her energy on absorbing power from the moon. She wanted to stay fully-charged, so to speak, because she had no idea what to expect next. This little unplanned excursion into ancient times seemed like it was set to be a crash-course in magic.
Her thoughts turned to Taran as she walked. Her heart ached at what she had put him through and the toll it would take on him. She feared the repercussions of her actions as her mind continued scrolling through the never-ending list of ‘what-if’s. She thought back to her Taran. To the adoration and love in his eyes whenever he looked upon her. Would he ever be able to look at her that way again after seeing all that she had been through? Would they ever be together now? Or had she destroyed that future?
The moonlit landscape was eerily beautiful. Grassy hills rose and fell, many with bare, sheer sides that revealed the jagged, prehistoric rock beneath. Massive, mossy boulders dotted the ground, casting long, threatening shadows across the grass and leaving her with the disconcerting feeling that she was not alone…
She frowned as the sensation grew steadily more intense.
She tried to examine the scents around her, but everything was foreign. No scent in particular stood out from the rest. There were no out-of-place sounds to alert her of anyone’s presence. She checked on Ciaran through their link and found that he was still back at the cave. She pressed her senses outward further still and felt each of her clansmen, ensuring that none had managed to approach without her notice. Lastly, she blinked and called upon her recently-discovered, power-enriched vision. She scanned the area slowly, noting the glowing white shapes of her clansmen in the distance. It was when she had turned in nearly a complete circle that she spotted him.
Her blood ran cold.
Her breath caught in her throat.
There, crouched in the shadow of a neighboring boulder, was the glowing silhouette of the only creature aside from Ciaran who could have masked his presence from her other senses…
Back at the cave, Ciaran’s eyes widened in horror at what he was sensing through his link to Skye. He turned and took off in her direction without thought. He did not even pause to consider the need to warn his brothers. All he knew was that he needed to reach her.
Taran awoke at the same time in renewed alarm. Through some unfamiliar, residual, fading connection to Skye’s power, he could sense her fear. He could sense that she was in danger. And he could sense exactly who was about to have her in their grasp.
Taran tried desperately to get to his feet and call out. He found that his voice was raw and useless from screaming for hours on end. He was too shaky and weak to trust his own arms and legs. His right arm was still mangled and barely usable, but he kept on trying. Frustrated beyond belief with his pitiful state, he resorted to making as much noise as possible to get someone’s attention.
Drostan spun at the sharp, out of place sound of a bowl smashing against the wall. His brow furrowed when he saw that Taran was waving his uninjured arm and struggling to stand. When their gazes met, he saw the urgency of Taran’s fear and knew something was terribly wrong.
Skye stayed stone-still for several seconds.
He did the same.
He knew that she could see him.
She knew that he was aware he had been discovered.
He simply waited now to see how she would react.
She forced herself to stand up straighter and swallowed back her instinctual fear. This was the first time she had ever faced him in the real world.
“Brandubh,” she acknowledged in a careful tone. Not too quiet, because she did not want him to think she was hiding his presence from the others. Not too loud, because she feared for the safety of her clansmen were they to stumble upon him here. Not too hateful, for she did not want to set an antagonistic tone. Not too familiar, for she did not want him to take her lack of open hostility as an invitation.
Brandubh slowly stood and stepped out of the shadows. Skye was astounded all over again by his ethereal beauty. At this stage of his life (death?), he was purer somehow. Primal in his magnificence. His long, pitch black hair was sleek and pulled back in a high, tight ponytail. Intricately carved beads and bits of stamped metal were woven into his tresses, each a small, shiny treasure valuable enough in his eyes to be worthy of such prominent display. A wide band of black paint covered his eyes like a mask, spanning from temple to temple. His large, splendid, black wings were tucked behind his back. Despite the chill in the air, his upper body and the sides of his legs were bare. Apparently, being undead made one less susceptible to the cold. She noted that his attire was very much as it had been in their dream encounter.
“I am honored to hear my name fall from your divine lips and – no doubt – unworthy to speak your name in return. What a radiant creature you are,” he declared breathily as he approached. His brows drew together, and he tilted his head to the side. “But oh… why such sorrow, sweet, young Goddess? I have come to share in your triumph, yet I find you so distressed.”
“What triumph?” Skye asked cautiously. He did not even know who she was. Why was he here? What had drawn him?
Brandubh invaded her space and took her hands in his. Skye struggled to stay calm. She did not want to fight him. She honestly did not know whether she could win. She was also aware of the relatively new, shaky truce between breeds in this time, and how the safety of her ancestors relied so heavily upon it. She could not strike him, or she would risk starting the war prematurely and setting off yet another series of events that threatened to erase the future as she knew it.
Brandubh stood before her, tall and slender, and unexpectedly sank to his knees. Skye felt a disturbingly pleasurable wave roll through her body. Her power was responding to his display of submission by reaching toward him to… do… something… important? Right? Catastrophically wrong? She had no idea what, though. Her body was instantly covered in goosebumps. Her nipples hardened. The hair stood on the back of her neck. Deeply troubled by her reaction to him, and not knowing just what the hell her power was hoping to accomplish, she tightened her grip on it and withheld it from him.
Brandubh frowned slightly in disappointment before answering her question. “The triumph of your ascension to Triple Goddess,” he replied as he bowed his head in reverence. “I felt your power emerging from afar the other day. I would sense it anywhere, from any distance. I came as soon as night fell and sought shelter by day. Then I felt your release earlier this morning.” He shuddered as his eyes rolled closed at the memory. “I had to wait for the sun to set again before seeking you out. Imagine my delight finding you here alone! You are truly magnificent. Resplendent. Beyond even Sorcha.” He studied her features curiously as he stood. “But… where have you come from? Sorcha had no other children… And you are not descended of Sitheag – of that, I am certain. Unless…” His features slowly shifted from confusion to utter amazement. His eyes widened. “Yes, that is it! You are a child out of time!” he declared and smiled in sheer delight as his eyes swept over her in renewed wonder. “You are even more powerful than I ever dared hope! Your father – were he not still ensnared by Sorcha’s spell – would be immensely proud.”
Skye stared up at him skeptically. Something was… off. Brandubh acted differently at this age than he did in her time. He felt differently, too, to all her senses. He was so strangely… grounded. And open. Twisted, yes, but not dark and changeable and bitter. There was something missing in his gaze. Some crucial, unidentified facet of his future self that had not yet taken hold. He had failed to comment in distaste on her being a faol. It did not even seem to bother him. The way his icy blue eyes were sparkling with excitement made the similarities between him and Ciaran all the more jarring. His words, however, were what surprised her most.
“My father?” she repeated as her brows drew together. “Faolan? What do you mean he is ‘ensnared by Sorcha’s spell’?”
Brandubh opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a guttural growl. He turned i
n complete amazement and released Skye’s hands. In the blink of an eye, Ciaran had cut between them and urged Skye back several paces. Ciaran snarled and bared teeth in warning as he continued backing them both away. Brandubh’s eyebrow rose high in interest. He was astonished by Ciaran’s ability to sneak up on him, as well as his appearance.
“Oh, look at this beautiful, clever boy,” Brandubh breathed in wonder. “Is he your pet? He is positively stunning… Every bit worthy to serve as a Goddess’ companion. Can he play? Or is he solely yours?”
It was Skye’s turn to growl ferociously and go on the defensive. She forced her way out in front of Ciaran as her eyes flashed with power in warning.
Brandubh held up his hands and inclined his head. “I mean no offense. I can see why you would keep him to yourself.” His curiosity was not assuaged, however. He continued marveling over Ciaran, likely sensing a connection to the stranger and wishing to investigate it further. “Does he at least have a name?” Brandubh asked hopefully.
Skye’s dread soared. She did not want Brandubh knowing anything about Ciaran – least of all the name his mother had given him. It was likely to stir his suspicions of Ciaran’s true identity.
Ciaran pushed forward, refusing to allow Skye to shield him. He compromised by standing at her side so that they could face the threat together. Thankfully, before he could answer Brandubh’s question, no matter how bitingly, they all sensed the approach of countless others. The three of them turned and watched as faoil rushed in and formed a ring around them.
Brandubh was not intimidated. He simply smiled in amusement at their presence. The truce was in place, and he could just fly away if they tried to harm him. The only one he was truly concerned about was Skye, and she did not seem in any rush to fight.
Skye’s heart was in her throat. One wrong move here by anyone and any hopes she had for returning to her life would be ruined. The crowd stood in tense silence unsure of what to do next.
The sound of movement off to the side slowly drew everyone’s notice. Skye’s eyes widened when she saw Taran slowly cutting through the ranks and making his way to her and Ciaran. He was pale and shaking. His upper arm was still mangled and struggling to heal. His brow was covered in sweat and it appeared to be taking all of his strength just to stand, let alone walk.
Despite the horrifying memories Skye had given him – and, simultaneously, because of them – Taran refused to allow her to face Brandubh without him. He could not offer her much protection in his current state, but he was more than willing to be the first to die in her defense.
No one spoke as he took his place directly in front of Skye and Ciaran. Regardless of his pain, he managed to stand tall and level a glare at Brandubh.
Brandubh leaned to the side to see Skye, meeting her gaze before commenting, “I do believe you may have broken this one, Goddess. Perhaps it would be best to bury him now, before he starts to smell.”
Taran’s scowl grew more severe. His rage granted him a bit of desperately-needed energy and helped to clear the lingering fog from his mind. His heavily-muscled form tensed with renewed purpose and the clear promise of a fight.
Brandubh turned his attention to Taran in response, studying the faol as he addressed Skye once more. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, young Goddess… Perhaps you are no better than Sorcha, if your abuse of your pretty pets is any indication.”
Skye opened her mouth to reply but did not get the chance.
“Not abuse,” Taran answered resolutely. “Justifiable punishment. And neither you nor I received even half what we deserved.”
Taran’s clansmen exchanged surprised looks at his words. Taran was admitting that he had been wrong? And that he felt Skye had been right to castigate him publicly with her power?
In response to his words, Brandubh’s expression turned deadly.
Skye reflexively reached out and gripped Taran’s hand out of fear for his safety. She wished she did not feel the way he flinched slightly at her touch.
“Then you are every bit as brainwashed as the Maker of your kind,” Brandubh spat. His eyes turned to Skye, for some reason holding a look of wounded distrust. “Have you been using HER tricks? Have you rendered this one as blind as Faolan?”
Skye flinched at the injury in his tone, the unidentified anguish she could sense.
“I see just fine!” came an unexpected and furious reply in the distance. Everyone looked to a neighboring hilltop to find Faolan standing, glowering down at his sworn enemy.
“Faolan…” Brandubh gasped.
Skye was surprised by the sudden softness of his voice, as well as the look of awe and – was it hope? – in his eyes upon seeing Faolan so far from Sorcha and her forest.
Faolan leapt from the hilltop and landed within the ring of faoil. “Move away from her, Brandubh, and leave now,” Faolan warned in a deadly tone as he approached. “Or I swear I will rip you apart slowly.”
Brandubh’s features twisted in abject disappointment in response. He took several slow steps back, but he did not leave immediately. Instead, he studied Faolan in silence for a long moment.
Skye took in the at-odds expressions on their faces. Something was definitely wrong. While Faolan truly did appear to be a half step away from attacking and dismembering Brandubh, Brandubh was looking at Faolan with an expression of sorrowful resignation – not hatred. Not even close. And there were more wholly unexpected truths to be read in Brandubh’s gaze. Longing… Sadness… Anguish… Betrayal… Skye frowned deeply. She knew that look from somewhere. It was eerily familiar, but she could not place where she had recently seen it.
After a long moment, Brandubh shook his head. Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, he gave a bitter laugh and addressed Faolan. “It was good to see you again after all these years, brother. Hopefully, we will do it again soon,” he said quietly and stretched out his immense wings, preparing for flight. He met Skye’s gaze one last time and gave her a fleeting look of such absolute pleading, it caught her completely off guard.
Without another word, he shoved off the ground and took to the sky. Everyone watched in tense silence as he flew off into the distance. When he was beyond the realm of even their supernaturally-enhanced vision, everyone relaxed considerably.
Taran’s shoulders slouched and he struggled to stay upright. Ailean and Ciaran quickly moved to his sides to offer aid.
“Here, let me…” Skye said as she stepped around in front of him.
When she reached out for him, Taran took an unsteady but resolute step back to avoid her touch.
She tried to mask her sadness and regret at his reaction, but it was evident in her features. She looked into his eyes expecting to find fear or hatred, to see confirmation that she had effectively destroyed any chance of them being together. She was surprised to instead find a look of familiar determination.
Taran shook his head and closed his eyes tightly. “Please. Please. Do not heal me, Goddess Queen,” he managed to beg in a hoarse whisper. When he opened his eyes, he avoided her gaze and pleaded, “Do nothing to ease my pain. Leave it to linger as long as it may. Lessons such as these must be learned thoroughly.”
Skye fought back tears and nodded in agreement with his request. As she watched him walk away with the aid of his brothers, she felt a bit of hope and thought, now there is a glimmer of my future King.
She turned when she realized that she had yet to acknowledge Faolan’s arrival. She found that he was staring at her in open wonder. She smiled warmly recalling his similar reaction when they first met in her own timeline.
She bowed to him respectfully as she greeted, “Faolan, Wolf Father. I am relieved to see you.”
Faolan closed the remaining distance between them and put his hand under her chin, urging her to stand and look up into his eyes. “Skye?” he asked in a voice strained by emotion. He smiled wider still when she nodded. He cupped her face with both hands and shook his head. “No, my beautiful, precious child. It is I who am relieved to see you.”
> He pulled her into his warm, steady embrace and Skye sighed at the comfort it instantly provided. All around them, the faoil erupted in celebration and cheers over the long-awaited reunion. Skye barely noticed. She burrowed her face into the furs on his shoulder and melted into his arms as he held her tight. Faolan, her Wolf Father, was a rock – much like Taran would (hopefully still) grow to become. Both men were solidity. Fixed points onto which she could hold for a while and just let the rest of the world spin on without her.
26: The Blip
The men got right to work building a bonfire and celebrating. Their Bronze Age revelry bore uncanny resemblance to her modern-day pack’s boisterous, drunken party on the night she activated the sigils. The celebratory feast this night, however, was genuine. In their eyes – and Faolan’s, as well – Skye’s arrival signaled an end to a century of waiting. Or, at the very least, a bright light at the end of the tunnel. ‘From One stolen, One lost was Returned,’ as it was meant to be.
Unfortunately, Skye might need to point out to them before long that they were nowhere near the end of their search. Once she figured out how the hell to get back home, these men would have a four-millennia-long wait ahead of them before they saw her again.
Goddess Rising Page 36
