Chronicles of the Half-Emrys Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Lisa Rector

  You’re a little slow, Brother, Cephias said.

  Thank you for ruining the moment, Aneirin said.

  My pleasure.

  Never mind. He inhaled Ahnalyn’s scent again and pushed more light through her. This is the best flight I’ve ever taken.

  Hey! That hurts.

  You know what I mean.

  ***

  As soon as the energy leached through her, Ahnalyn gave up the struggle. She was annoyed with him… but the heat started in her back and sides and crept down to her toes and out to her fingertips, rushing into her face. The effect was so enjoyable that she didn’t care that Aneirin had called her uptight.

  It was amazing how much tension her body carried that slipped away with Aneirin’s touch. She shouldn’t allow herself such a moment with this near-perfect stranger when Brenin’s death was still bright in her mind. This was a betrayal to his memory, but she didn’t fight. She would confront the remorse later. Aneirin—this emrys who had saved her from Caedryn’s torment—had intimately known her mother and had been a part of a hidden past Ahnalyn knew nothing about. And he held her in his arms while flying on a dragon! She should resist, but she was too cold and too emotionally exhausted to fight any longer.

  And Aneirin drew himself closer, pressing his face into her hair at the side of her neck. More heat surged through her body. She willed her heart to slow. This was more intense than she expected. Was this pleasure from her releasing tensions or did it hold a deeper meaning for Ahnalyn? She didn’t want to acknowledge any truth. It had been a while since she felt the touch of another man. This was scandalous, and anywhere else she wouldn’t have allowed it. Flying in the sky, with her life moving forward, was a fantasy. Was any of this real?

  Aneirin gathered her hair back, twisting it together. “Wasn’t hard to relax, was it? You just needed encouragement.”

  Don’t think anything. Don’t feel anything, she told herself. Remember, he can read right through me.

  So she nodded instead.

  Aneirin snickered. “This is reality, you know. This is real.”

  Ahnalyn nudged him. “It’s not fair this is so one-sided. Are you going to teach me to read your emotions?”

  “Umm… in time. You realize I’m not used to this. Everyone in Gorlassar knows everyone’s emotions. This is refreshing.”

  “I’m so glad this”—she gestured to her heart and mind—“I… amuse you.”

  Aneirin laughed. “You know what you want in life, Ahnalyn, but you guilt yourself, thinking you have to deny yourself pleasure to make up for past transgressions. You deserve happiness.”

  ***

  They fell into a silent mediation, which Ahnalyn eventually broke. “Aneirin, is this how you feel all the time?” Ahnalyn whispered, angling her head away so his cheek fit against her neck better.

  “What?” Aneirin surfaced from his thoughts, his face burning. “What do you mean?”

  “Being filled with light,” Ahnalyn replied.

  Aneirin collected his thoughts, and his words stumbled out. “Oh, yes, I feel great, all the time. It’s wonderful.”

  You nicely recovered that one, Cephias hummed.

  Thank you. I thought she caught on to my feelings.

  I did. Cephias laughed mentally. You’re amusing me quite a bit. Ahh, makes a long flight go by so much faster with your reflections on tenderness. “Oh, Ahnalyn’s leaning on me. I’m touching a girl!” Ha ha!

  Come now, Cephias. I never teased you when you fell for Seren.

  Oh, you didn’t?

  Never. Aneirin chuckled under his breath.

  All I have to say is you might as well enjoy it.

  Ahnalyn interrupted his inner dialog. “What’s your source of light? You were trying to tell me about developing mine.”

  Aneirin shifted in the saddle, figuring out how to best explain. He leaned in to talk in her ear so he wouldn’t have to shout over the rushing wind. “If I tell you, will you promise to remain calm?”

  “You told me you felt a spark of light in me. Were you saying the rest is darkness?” Ahnalyn asked. “I won’t become upset again. I want to know.”

  “Emrys are born with light in them—they are light. It’s what sustains them. They have no darkness. This is an educated guess, but since you’re half-emrys, you were born with light and darkness inside. The way it is with light—governed by its properties and laws—the more you have, the more the darkness will fade. Darkness cannot exist in the presence of light. Darkness is the absence of light—a void—space waiting to be filled.”

  Aneirin continued his explanation when Ahnalyn didn’t reply. “Looking at you and your balance of light and darkness, I would think since you can hold both, you’d have the potential to develop both. It’d have to be either one or the other because an equal balance would never hold. The powers are not balanced in such a way.”

  Ahnalyn nodded in understanding. “All right,” she slowly started, “so how do I gain greater light to fill my void?”

  “You need to let go of a lot of issues that hurt you in the past, which will be hard to do, and you have to learn to trust”—Aneirin paused—“and learn to love.” He braced himself, waiting for Ahnalyn to erupt.

  “I love my son.” Her words came out short and sharp—a tad defensive.

  Aneirin gave her arm a squeeze, hoping to reassure her. “That’s a good start. If you can trust me, I’ll help you.”

  She relaxed again. “I’d like that. So… how are we going to rescue Seren? Have you been thinking about it?”

  “That’s why I need you. Between the two of us, we can use our light to break through the barrier.”

  “I thought you said I didn’t have much light.”

  “It’s growing even now.” Aneirin grinned.

  ***

  As they neared the southern mountains, Aneirin told Ahnalyn to touch his dragon stone. “Cephias can see in the dark and I through him. If you touch my stone, you’ll see with the same sight.”

  “What am I looking at?” Ahnalyn said before touching the stone, but as her fingers made contact, she gasped. In the plains along the mountainside was Rolant’s army, dark and shadowed by the night, but sprawled across the grassy landscape. She pulled her hand away, horrified at the sight. “Is there no hope? What are we to do, Aneirin?”

  “Do not fear. Once we rescue Seren, we’ll stop this.”

  Two peaks rose before them, and Cephias flew between them. No fires lit the way from sentries posted nearby, and no one called them to a halt or attacked.

  “I don’t like this,” Ahnalyn said. “Why are there no guards? No sentry to alert for intruders?”

  “It is strange,” Aneirin said. “We’ll have to be careful.”

  “Duck,” Cephias shouted, as he dove through an opening adequate enough for a dragon. Stones scattered under his feet as he landed.

  Ahnalyn couldn’t see in the pitch black of night. A light formed beside her. Held in Aneirin’s palm was an energy ball, which grew bright enough to light the front of the cave. He tossed it up into the sky, and it hovered overhead, casting eerie shadows. The cave’s roomy interior was sizable enough for two dragons to stand abreast.

  “Seren?” Cephias asked.

  “I’m here!” Seren said from the shadows at the rear of the cave.

  Aneirin and Ahnalyn slid down Cephias’s smooth, glassy scales, landing with a crunch on the cave floor. The light followed Aneirin as they proceeded to the back of the cave, where Seren was lying in a cramped space.

  Seren strained, nudging her head against an invisible object. “Here, the barrier is right here.”

  Aneirin took two steps forward.

  Ahnalyn heard a deafening CRACK and watched in horror as Aneirin’s body launched across the room, smashing against the far wall and collapsing to the ground. His light snuffed out, plunging the cave into darkness.

  A deep growl rumbled from Cephias, and the air whooshed as he pounced in front of Ahnalyn. His tail swept back, pushing he
r out of harm’s way. The cave lit in a stream of bright dragon fire aimed directly for the attacker.

  Ahnalyn peered over Cephias’s tail. It would be him. Black hair, dead eyes, and ugly, scraggily beard on his chin—Lord Caedryn. Ahnalyn hated the sight of him. His arms were lifted, and Ahnalyn’s eyes widened as Cephias’s flame spread out in a circle as if it hit a shield. Caedryn was, of course, unharmed.

  “Surprise!” Caedryn exclaimed, tossing a light into the air just as Aneirin did. “You’re so predictable. Fools!”

  Cephias rushed at Caedryn.

  Energy distorting the air shot from Caedryn’s hand, shoved Cephias against the cave wall, and pinned him. Caedryn made a twisting movement with his free hand, and Ahnalyn froze, unable to speak.

  Caedryn stalked over to where Aneirin lay crumpled on the ground. He bent over and ripped Aneirin’s dragon stone from his neck.

  “It never fails that someone has to play the hero. I thought you’d come and rescue your precious dragon.” Caedryn dangled the stone before his eyes. “So beautiful.” His voice sounded faraway and dreamy, but it changed, and his face darkened. “You know, Ahnalyn, I once had a stone.” He strode over to Ahnalyn and tore hers off. “Do you know what it’s like to feel every breath of your dying dragon?” His eyes squinted. “No, you wouldn’t. I can assure you, it would haunt your dreams.”

  Ahnalyn couldn’t turn her head, but she heard Seren frantically pressing against the barrier—to no avail.

  “But what does haunt your dreams, dear Ahnalyn?” Caedryn turned to Seren. “Be still. You’re wasting your strength.”

  “Let them go. If a dragon is what you want, you already have me,” Seren said.

  “Very noble, Seren, very noble. But you’re no good to me. You’re loyal to Niawen’s memory.”

  “I warned her you were evil. She never should have trusted you.”

  Lord Caedryn wiggled his finger back and forth in front of her. “Tsk, tsk. Now, Seren. She did trust me, and loved me, and she gave me exactly want I wanted. See—she stands here right before me.” He ran a finger gently down Ahnalyn’s cheek.

  Seren hissed.

  “A daughter… and a grandson.” Caedryn sneered.

  Ahnalyn heard the words, but she could not—would not—believe them. A cry tore at her throat. It can’t be true. Tad’s not my father? No! I don’t believe it.

  Caedryn turned to Seren, ignoring Ahnalyn’s whimpering. “Oh yes, I once had a dragon, and he was taken from me. I only want what’s mine! I need a dragon who’s loyal to me. A new hatchling will take to any rider if they have their dragon stone. Give me an egg, Seren, and you can have your freedom.”

  “I would never give you one of my eggs!”

  Caedryn paced around the cave. “Which one of these three is most precious to you? Cephias, your loving mate”—Caedryn closed his fist in the air, and Cephias bellowed in pain—“Aneirin, whose death would cause Cephias unbearable pain and agony, or Ahnalyn, the daughter of the rider you failed? You abandoned Niawen, Seren. You left her with me—Lord Caedryn, Master of Deception! Stupid dragon. And over a petty squabble. You should by all rights suffer the same fate.”

  “Shut up! You’re despicable. Leave us alone!”

  “And Niawen realized too late, how cruel I can be. She thought she’d left me, but I let her go. I had what I wanted. She was carrying my child. I only had to bide my time.” Caedryn wrapped both his hands around Ahnalyn’s neck and squeezed. Ahnalyn gasped—still unable to move, so she hung limp in his grasp.

  “Stop it. Stop it!” Seren yelled. “I’ll lay you an egg. Just let them go. Let them go.”

  He released his hold on Ahnalyn’s neck. “There, I knew you’d come around to it.”

  Caedryn addressed Ahnalyn, his voice mellow. “But oh, your mother was exquisite. You have her features.” His eyes darkened, and his voice grew cold. “I’m going to give you wisdom to think about, half-emrys. From your father you also inherited an attribute other than your dark hair.” He leaned in and whispered, “Can you feel the darkness? Can you feel the power? I passed a great legacy to you.”

  Ahnalyn’s eyes bulged, but her protest was stifled as she strained against Caedryn’s hold.

  “Yes, try to fight it. Let the rage build. You can wield the dark power if you let it course through you. You’ll better understand once you remember how your mother was killed.” He grabbed her head in a vicelike grip.

  Ahnalyn cried out, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled to the cave floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE TRUTH BEHIND THE HORROR

  A growl rumbled forth deep from the cat’s throat. The animal was huge with matted ginger fur, and its razor-sharp claws dug into the soil, the tendons on the creature’s paw taut. Foaming drool clung to its chin. The cat bared its pointed teeth.

  Ahnalyn’s eyes locked with the cat. Its slitted pupils revealed an unsettled, intelligent madness.

  This is the end, Ahnalyn thought. I’m going to die.

  The cat gave Ahnalyn one last glare and slowly turned to face Niawen. It crouched and sprang, leaping with great strength, its claws poised for the kill.

  A strange energy surged inside Ahnalyn, rolled into her outstretched arms, and expelled in a ripple distorting the sky.

  The cat’s claws met their mark and sank deep into Niawen’s chest. At the same instant, the energy collided with the cat and crushed the beast into Niawen. They fell to the ground with a horrifying crunch.

  The air filled with a scream, which Ahnalyn realized came from her. She clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound.

  The cat had rolled off her mother and lay limp in the grass. Ahnalyn rushed forward and grabbed Niawen.

  “Mam, Mam!”

  Blood was seeping from Niawen’s chest and frothing at her mouth. Niawen brought Ahnalyn’s hand to her necklace, indicating she wanted Ahnalyn to take the stone she wore.

  Ahnalyn shook her head. “No Mam, no!”

  Niawen coughed, and her eyes fluttered shut.

  Ahnalyn collapsed on her mother and wailed until her voice was sore…

  A nagging pressure poked her shoulder. Ahnalyn groaned. As her awareness heightened, she realized Seren was nudging her awake.

  “How long have I been unconscious?” Ahnalyn mumbled, her voice a dry croak. Weak and shaky, Ahnalyn feebly rolled onto her side, moaning from the effort. She glanced into the dark, seeing nothing, and moaned again.

  “Cephias, she’s coming around,” Seren said, relief in her voice.

  “Aneirin’s still out cold. His head’s bleeding.” Cephias spoke from somewhere in the dark.

  “Aneirin?” Ahnalyn whispered.

  “He’s over here,” Cephias called.

  Whimpering and wincing as stones stabbed at her hands and knees, Ahnalyn crawled toward Aneirin.

  She touched Aneirin’s chest. He still breathed. She felt the back of his head, and her fingers came away sticky with a metallic smell, which made Ahnalyn’s head spin. Blood. She sobbed. Aneirin was her mother all over again, crushed and bleeding. She closed her eyes and tried to maintain control. Slow, deep breaths. Slow, deep breaths. I’m won’t cry.

  “I need light,” Ahnalyn said, after minutes passed.

  Cephias shot a steady stream of flame straight up into the air. He had nothing to ignite, so it blew out after he ran out of breath. But Ahnalyn saw Aneirin’s wound, a bloody gash several inches long at the back of his head.

  “Water,” Ahnalyn whispered. “Is there any water?”

  Seren spoke up. “There’s a puddle in the back of the cave, where water drips from the wall.”

  Ahnalyn lay there for a while before she mustered the strength to stand. All she could think about was the horrible dream of her mother and the power that lashed out when she was scared.

  She remembered the strange feeling of her body wanting to release this pressure that had built and her fingers throbbing during release.

  A twisting sensation p
itted Ahnalyn’s stomach. I killed my mother. She had pushed the cat into her mother, crushing her. Ahnalyn’s breath shortened in to gasps, making her head heavy.

  “Breathe, Ahnalyn.” Cephias was crouching over her. “We need you to help Aneirin. Breathe. Focus.”

  “Ahnalyn, what can I do—” Seren began.

  Ahnalyn held up a hand, cutting her off. After a deep inhale, she summoned an inner will, forcing herself to stand, ignoring the weighted feel in her head.

  With Cephias’s flame to guide her, she hobbled to the back of the cave. Ahnalyn didn’t have a basin for the water, so she soaked the corner of her cloak in the puddle. She stumbled back to Aneirin and squeezed water into his mouth, causing him to cough and spasm. Fumbling for the knife at Aneirin’s belt, her fingers found the hilt, and Ahnalyn unsheathed the blade. She cut long strips off her cloak to clean and bind the wound. When all was done, Ahnalyn leaned against the wall with Aneirin’s head in her lap.

  “Any bright ideas?” Ahnalyn asked, her heavy eyelids sliding shut. How would they be freed?

  But she didn’t hear an answer.

  ***

  In the courtyard in Hyledd, Ahnalyn stood over Lord Brenin, who lay on the litter, wounded from battle. Horrible crimson blood soaked Brenin’s tunic. His shimmering eyes held such despair—he knew he was dying. Curls plastered from perspiration lay against his head, and his mouth was drawn into a grimace, concealing his almost dimples. Burning her nose, the smell of stale sweat and blood permeated the air around Ahnalyn.

  She stared expressionless. The situation was as she thought—Brenin was going to die, and she could do nothing about it.

  A rustling startled her. Ahnalyn turned her head.

  General Gethen stood beside her, holding out a knife. “Finish him off. Lord Caedryn wanted to give you the honor.”