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

by Lisa Rector

  Forgive, Ahnalyn thought, as if Meinwen were pressing the words into her head. Forgive your mother. Change your perspective. Forgive your enemy.

  “Destroying her was the best way to plant the seeds of darkness in your heart,” Caedryn said. “I wanted you. You think I came to conquer Terrin—that was merely a bonus. I wanted to unite our powers. Together we are stronger!”

  Her body shook. Ahnalyn rolled onto her side and willed herself to rise. Get up. Get up! But it would be easier to give up and die. Let Caedryn win.

  ***

  Aneirin was nearly to Ahnalyn, and though the blackened skies made it impossible to see, Cerys flew according to his direction. It was easy to feel where Caedryn was, to follow the seeping malevolence at the other side of the field. No obstacle was in their path with the fight on the ground.

  A bright flash flared from the direction they were headed—a fireball for Lord Caedryn.

  “There she is!” Aneirin shouted. They were seconds away. Lightning flashed and Seren flopped over. Another flash and Aneirin saw Ahnalyn fall.

  Get up, Ahnalyn. Get up!

  As they reached the rock outcrop, Aneirin pushed a shield around Cerys and launched a succession of energy orbs, but Caedryn saw them and blocked the attacks. Caedryn lifted his hand and threw Cerys to the side with one swipe. Aneirin leapt, landing gracefully in a crouch as Cerys crashed, rolling over in the grass.

  “Oh wonderful, the valiant protector is here. I don’t approve of your feelings for my daughter,” Caedryn hissed.

  Crawling to her knees, Ahnalyn grimaced when her eyes met Aneirin’s.

  Aneirin flinched from the sight: blood pouring from Ahnalyn’s nose and mud plastered to her. What perturbed him the most though was the savage look in her eyes and the darkness he sensed leaking from her very pores.

  His mother’s words floated back from memory. Ahnalyn lives in two worlds, Aneirin. She will have to make a choice. You cannot force her to choose the light no matter how much you want her to. A battle will rage inside her. You cannot predict the outcome. He prayed it would not come down to this.

  “Ahnalyn, don’t. Walk away… Don’t face Caedryn like this.” He gave her a pleading look. Let her walk away from this unscathed.

  He turned to attack Lord Caedryn.

  The powers of light and darkness clashed over the outcrop. Aneirin pushed and gained ground, and Caedryn countered and pushed back. Back and forth they volleyed, their two forces pressing against each other, clashing as loud as the thunder.

  Aneirin’s strength waned. He slipped in the sloshy mud and had little time to wipe the grime off his brow before the rain dripped it in his eyes.

  With his hideous mouth pent up in a vile expression and his black hair clinging to his face, Lord Caedryn was yet to be winded.

  He scoffed. “Aneirin, you’ll never win. The dragons are falling. General Gethen is pushing through the gap as we speak. Your hopes have been in vain.”

  Where does his power come from? How does he continue on? “You’re wrong to think you can win. The emrys will prevail.” Aneirin said this to bolster his spirits, determined to hold out. He would fight for Cephias, Seren, Ahnalyn, and the other dragons and riders who had fallen. He would fight until Caedryn was dead. His light flared inside him, bright across the battlefield. His power reached out and crushed the barrier Caedryn was blocking with.

  Aneirin punched Caedryn square in the chest with a blast. The hard hit knocked him against a rock, finally slowing him down.

  Caedryn clawed to his feet, his eyes wild with rage. “You fool! There’s far worse than I! You think that if you defeat me that will end the darkness. A greater power than mine will follow in my stead!”

  One murderous glare was afforded Aneirin before Caedryn turned toward Ahnalyn, who still lay on the ground. With undaunted energy, an undulating mass shot from Caedryn, headed directly for her.

  Intent on intercepting the blast, Aneirin reacted without thinking, launching himself with his light. Caedryn’s massive energy rammed into his body with a shattering impact.

  Aneirin felt his bones break. He experienced a surge of pain even before his body hit the ground, landing facedown in the mud. Aneirin moaned and coughed up blood as his body lurched in agony. I’m going to die, he thought with a sickening realization. And Caedryn will win.

  ***

  Ahnalyn crawled over to Aneirin and rolled him over, causing him to contort in pain.

  “What did you do? Why’d you do that?” Ahnalyn could barely see through her tears and the rain as she blindly patted his chest. Aneirin coughed up more blood, and she attempted to lift his head. He was dying—like her mother, all because of Caedryn.

  Mam, Mam, I understand. You wanted to protect me from this evil, from my own father. I’m not angry with you. I understand why you didn’t tell me who I was. Forgive me for not seeing it sooner. I wish I could have saved you.

  Aneirin’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “No, don’t die. Aneirin, look at me!” She shook his chest, grabbing at his tunic. Ahnalyn sensed what little light force Aneirin had left as it tried to repair his injuries. It wouldn’t be enough. His strength was nearly spent.

  Ahnalyn bawled, feeling helpless. What can I do? She touched her check to Aneirin’s and let the heavy rain bathe them in its cold shroud.

  He needs more light. Ahnalyn looked around frantically. No one was able to help. She was alone. Seren and Cerys were unconscious. Catrin was defending Cephias across the battlefield.

  You must make a choice, Ahnalyn. You must choose Aneirin’s life or your own.

  Who said that? But she knew the voice—one not on the battlefield but in Gorlassar—Meinwen speaking through her mind.

  It’s not my fault! Ahnalyn clenched her fists. It was Caedryn’s.

  No child, it’s not your fault. But you can save Aneirin.

  How? Ahnalyn screamed back.

  You can heal him. You have the power to do so.

  Ahnalyn placed her hand over her heart. Her light was severely diminished. How could it be enough? But she knew what she must do. ALL of it might be enough. In doing this, maybe she could forgive herself. Forgive herself for killing her mother and make recompense by saving Aneirin’s life. One life for another. She couldn’t save her mother then, but she could save Aneirin now. Please let this be enough to save him. It wasn’t my fault Mam died. It was an accident. Let it go. Forgive myself!

  Ahnalyn laid her hands on Aneirin’s chest. She imagined her light forming in her core, into a mass, and yanked it agonizingly from her heart-center—every last ounce of it. The swirling orb was a tiny flame, which flickered pathetically in the rain as it hovered in the air between them. Ahnalyn cried a wretched sob before she pushed her light into Aneirin’s heart-center.

  Without a single drop of light in her soul, she would be gone to Aneirin, but at least he would be alive.

  For one moment she felt free, no longer consumed with the guilt over her mother’s death. I am free! Aneirin’s body was beginning to heal, but cold emptiness flooded hers, sweeping over her heart-center where the light had been, and swelling in a wave to the ends of her hands and feet, swallowing up the feeling of peace. Cold and dark. This must be what it feels like when you die, she thought, because I might as well be dead. Though she had forgiven herself, she would never feel that wholeness again, not as long as the darkness ruled her.

  Lord Caedryn pulled himself up, smirking. “You have done well, Daughter. Welcome to the darkness and its power.” He stumbled over to her. “Now we finish these wretches off!”

  Caedryn grabbed Ahnalyn by the hand and yanked her to her feet, holding her against his body.

  Aneirin! She groped at the air between them, reaching for him. Until this moment, until she was about to lose him, she hadn’t realized how much he meant to her. Aneirin… but she was like ash to him. Ugly, gray ash. Burnt and used up wood. Dead.

  A heavy feeling sank through Ahnalyn and seeped into her pores from Caedryn’s grasp.
Filling up the void the light had left, a tangle of anger, hatred, jealousy, and vengeance weighted her. A shiver ran through Ahnalyn’s core as if she’d been thrown into a pool of frigid water. Caedryn had her exactly where he wanted her all along. She had failed.

  Caedryn lifted Ahnalyn’s hands. His power cut through her and multiplied. The burden pulled at her, wanting her to sink into the earth, but Caedryn held her firm.

  “The power grows and quantifies. At the moment when you feel it will tear you in two, release it!” Caedryn yelled.

  Her head ached with pressure. Her legs buckled. She wanted to scream from the agony, but no cry escaped her lips.

  Rocks rose in the air around them and scattered as if repelled by a negative force.

  “Now!” Caedryn yelled.

  An intense force surged from them. Her scream finally released as the overpowering pressure subsided. A deafening rumble filled her ears as the hillside cleaved in two, and a jagged gash stretched across the field. Men and dragons fighting on both sides fell into the gaping hole to be buried alive. Ahnalyn gasped and cried out from the horror.

  Only the greatest love is shown in such a sacrifice. It was Meinwen. Her voice was so loud, penetrating Ahnalyn’s entire being, shaking her whole frame, that Ahnalyn wondered if others could hear her. You have given up your light—all of it. The most selfless deed I could ask. You enacted the law of sacrifice, thus proving yourself.

  A flame of fire burned through Ahnalyn’s body, and the cold darkness fled before it. Heat radiated out from her being.

  You are freed from the darkness! Meinwen cried.

  Lord Caedryn screamed—the contact from Ahnalyn too painful. Light burst out of Ahnalyn in a cataclysmic stream. The battlefield lit up as pure light shot across it and up into the sky, forcing the clouds to disperse and the rain to stop. The sunken earth rose, whole, lifting the fallen men and dragons with it. The vicious men unable to withstand such pure light vanished in a wisp of putrid smoke.

  From deep under his skin, Lord Caedryn glowed like an ember. Ahnalyn pushed herself away from Caedryn as he started smoking and caught fire in a huge blaze, screaming in unholy torture.

  Ahnalyn threw herself on top of Aneirin and covered her ears.

  But a different scene unfolded in Ahnalyn’s mind, her view: of a snowy ledge flanked by two boulders—the entrance to Gorlassar—and the face of Lord Ithel. His eyes and brow drooped with sorrow, and his mouth turned down at the edges.

  As though she were the one to do so, in her vision, Ahnalyn slumped to her knees, falling against Ithel’s chest. But Ahnalyn knew better. He caught her in his outstretched arms.

  “Meinwen,” Ithel whispered. “My dear sweet, Meinwen.” He stroked Ahnalyn’s cheek.

  Ahnalyn experienced a failing strength, which she knew was not hers, but felt as though her own. Her muscles slackened, and her heart slowed as Meinwen slipped away.

  What did you do? Ahnalyn cried.

  It was necessary… all my light… you carry it. You are the High Emrys, Meinwen said from somewhere deep inside Ahnalyn’s subconscious.

  Her vision darkened as she—Meinwen—collapsed and saw no more.

  Ahnalyn’s sight came back to her, and a strangled sob escaped her lips.

  Meinwen had made the greater sacrifice.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ANSWERS UNVEILED

  The screaming stopped, and silence permeated the battlefield.

  With her eyes squeezed shut, Ahnalyn didn’t dare move as she huddled over Aneirin’s body. She felt strange—a renewed lightness and clarity far different from anything she’d ever experienced before filled her. No pain existed, no fear. Only peace.

  “You’re hurting my eyes,” a faint whispering said.

  “What?” Ahnalyn lifted her head and looked at Aneirin’s bloodstained face. He’d spoken. “You’re alive… What did you say?”

  “You’re hurting my eyes. I’ve never seen someone shine so bright.” Aneirin grimaced as Ahnalyn shifted her weight. “You’re also crushing my ribs.”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry.” Ahnalyn lifted herself gingerly off his body and dabbed at Aneirin’s face with her sleeve.

  Aneirin lay there limply, letting her. “How do you shine so bright?” His words were no louder than a strained whisper. “What happened? Why does everything happen when I’m unconscious?”

  “I’ll explain later. But Caedryn’s dead. It’s over.” Ahnalyn gulped, the painful memory of Meinwen’s sacrifice still fresh in her mind.

  A moan from the other side of the rock outcrop grabbed her attention. Her father.

  Aneirin lifted his head and nodded in the direction of the moan. “You’d better help your father. You have plenty of light to heal him. Then help Seren and Cerys and have one of them take you to Cephias. He needs help.”

  “Should I just leave you?”

  “I’m healing. Leave me. I’ll be fine.” Aneirin dropped his head back down.

  Ahnalyn touched the side of Aneirin’s face briefly before rushing over to Owein.

  “Tad!” She rolled him onto his back. The knife was still stuck in Owein’s stomach, and he was barely conscious. Her father cringed when Ahnalyn slid the knife out. With no blade to staunch the flow of blood, it pooled freely across his stomach and spilled on the ground. Ahnalyn placed one hand over his heart and the other over his wound and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the blood seeping between her fingers. She had never healed someone and wasn’t sure how. Sorrow swept over Ahnalyn as she realized her mother could have been healed if only Ahnalyn had known—if she had known she was an emrys, she could have saved Niawen.

  I’ll guide you, Ahnalyn, Meinwen’s voice whispered from deep inside her mind.

  How can I hear you? She thought Meinwen had died.

  I am with you. See with your inner eye. See the wound, the torn flesh from the knife, lacerated muscles, skin, and blood vessels. You can see them.

  Ahnalyn focused her thoughts and light inward. She talked herself through the body, willing her light to show her the wound. Show me the injury. Show me what needs to heal. The trauma unfolded in her mind and revealed the broken and torn flesh. Yes, I can see. I can see it, Meinwen. It was terrifying and strangely marvelous at the same time.

  Now see them healed. Picture them knit together, whole as they once were, the way the Master of Light created them. The vessels are smooth. The muscles are woven together. Spilled blood moves into the vessels to circulate and restore life.

  The light flowed out of her with ease. Ahnalyn didn’t have to put forth much effort. Heat increased in her fingertips as her father’s body changed. Her light traveled the internal pathways of his body, seeking out and repairing. Owein’s wound closed, and his breathing became regular. Ahnalyn released her shaking hands and looked down into her father’s face.

  He smiled back at her.

  “My dear Ahnalyn, is that you? You look so grown-up, so beautiful, and you’re glowing!” He reached up to touch her face. “I knew I’d see you again.”

  Ahnalyn hugged her father. “I’m here. I should have never left you. How different everything would have been if I’d stayed in our little cottage.”

  “Now, do not wish that. Life happens for a reason. You had to follow this path. We’re together again. This is what’s important.” Her father touched a lock of her hair. “This is unusual.”

  Ahnalyn pulled her hair around her shoulder so she could see it. The brunette was streaked with silver highlights. “This is interesting.”

  She helped her father over to Aneirin. “Stay together while I help the others.”

  Aneirin struggled to sit up, and Owein crouched down to assist him.

  Ahnalyn frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

  “No, go help Cephias. Please. I want you to help him.” Aneirin’s voice was strained.

  “It would only take a minute,” Ahnalyn said.

  “No!” Aneirin grumbled. “Go… Cephias—”

  Ahnal
yn threw her hands up. “All right. Just stay here.”

  She hurried over to Cerys and roused her with her energy. Ahnalyn woke Seren. Both of the dragons were mildly bruised. Seren had a sprained forearm, which the light mended immediately.

  “It’s over,” Seren said. “It’s over.” She flexed her wings.

  “Yes, but much is yet to be done. We must fly to Cephias,” Ahnalyn said.

  “What’s happened to him?” Seren asked.

  “I don’t know. Aneirin’s worried.” Ahnalyn climbed onto Seren, and they flew across the battlefield to where Cephias’s body was a great red lump on the ground. Ahnalyn couldn’t help but notice the battlefield was littered with dragon lumps and protective riders busy healing.

  Cerys followed them, eager to reunite with Catrin.

  Cephias was near the center of the battlefield, awake and waggling his head in frustration.

  Catrin was touching his head. “It’s no use, Cephias. I’m afraid it’s too late.” Tears streamed down her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Seren curled up beside Cephias.

  “I can’t see! I can’t see!” Cephias tucked his head into his claws. Seren nuzzled his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

  Catrin wrung her hands together. “I can’t restore his sight. It’s completely gone. I healed his bones and woke him, but no luck with his vision.”

  Ahnalyn tenderly touched Cephias. She stroked his nose and caressed his head. She leaned her face up against his. “Aneirin’s safe. He’ll be here soon.”

  “Did you get him—Caedryn? Did you find the dragon stones?”

  In the commotion, she had forgotten! “Caedryn’s dead. I’m not sure about the dragon stones, but we’ll find them. Let me see if I can help you.”

  Ahnalyn ignored Catrin’s curious gaze, knowing Catrin would wonder what Ahnalyn could do differently that she could not. The new light inside Ahnalyn was blaringly obvious. Catrin would know something was amiss. She would see Ahnalyn had unparalleled light, greater than any emrys in the realm—much like her mother.