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

by Lisa Rector

  “How many days do you think it will take to find the tegyd?” Meuric asked. This task could take forever.

  “Depends on when they want to reveal themselves.” Catrin maintained her stride.

  Meuric stopped. “What’re you talking about? You mean we’re traipsing through the woods, searching for the tegyd, and now you tell me we have to wait for them to reveal themselves. This is a waste of time.”

  Catrin spared him a glance, obviously not caring if this rankled him. “They show themselves when it’s most prudent.”

  “Meanwhile, the Eilian are packing up their village with nary a thought to the end goal. Are they so blindly obedient?”

  “Not blind, Meuric—trusting.” Catrin stepped over a fallen log and jumped gracefully into the snow.

  Meuric unhitched his pack, pulled out a stick of jerky, and passed one to Catrin, but she held her hand up and turned her head away. “I’m saving those for the last possible need.”

  He pursed his lips at her. She’d probably rather die than eat more jerky. “Whatever Your Highness desires.”

  “Must you call me such lofty titles?” Catrin brushed past a bush, knocking snow to the ground.

  “It reminds me whose daughter you are.”

  Catrin twitched. “Her name is Meinwen, your great-grandmother.”

  “Sorry, I haven’t met her. You forget; I haven’t been to Gorlassar. The knowledge of my heritage starts with Siana.”

  “How could I forget? Since you’re related to Urien, you’d be a prince of Gorlassar if we used such titles.”

  Meuric shook his head. “I am no prince.”

  “You think so poorly of yourself? Truly? Has your past been filled with such appalling deeds?” Catrin turned and cocked her head to the side.

  When Catrin had healed his burned hands, her beauty and majesty radiated while she used her light. He was marked and in no way valiant when compared to her bloodline. She should be a princess and I… a dog. He only replied, “My past is filled with death and slaughter. My dreams are tortured by the misdeeds of youth.”

  This quieted her, but after a dismissive shrug she said, “Well, you’ll love Meinwen when you meet her.”

  Meuric reached toward Catrin and touched her shoulder. “Your mother is not in this time, Catrin. You must realize this. If we can’t find a way home, you might not see her again.”

  Catrin’s eyes darkened. “I will see her again. How dare you say that?”

  “We might be able to return to our time, or we might not. I fully believe this depends on the Masters’ game. Their hands hold us bound to this path. I see the feelings you carry for your mother. I know you need her, Catrin, but this we can get through together.”

  Catrin smacked Meuric’s hand off. “Stop reading my feelings. I don’t like you sensing every emotion I have.”

  As Catrin stormed off, discouragement hit Meuric, hard.

  “Then stop showing them to me. Practice some restraint.” He followed her exasperation around a tree trunk.

  “I don’t know you,” Catrin snarled. “Why are you willing to stick with me through this?”

  She’d never learn to block others if she didn’t rein in her moods.

  “I have people I care about at home too,” Meuric said. “Trust me. I want to return to them as much as you want to be rid of me. Besides, we have only each other—the only two emrys. And I promised you.”

  “You’ll throw that in my face every chance you can. What made you promise me anyway?” Catrin let go of a branch, and Meuric ducked out of the way of its lashing.

  Should he tell her he felt sorry for her—that he misjudged her? He shrugged. “You were terrified. Huddled on the floor, digging fingernails into your skin.” He couldn’t escape how this reminded him of Mara. How she’d been curled into a ball, rocking herself.

  Catrin sighed. “It amazes me you even care.”

  Meuric shuddered. She thinks I’m the most unfeeling beast in the world. Why has she trusted me this far? “I’m not heartless. I have compassion.”

  “Have you ever loved?”

  Meuric scoffed, not expecting this question. “How old do you think I am? Do you think I’ve never fallen in love in all my years?”

  “How should I know? I imagine you must have many women.”

  “Whoa, hold on. Do emrys in Gorlassar have many women?” Who does she think I am?

  Catrin turned, looking abashed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We choose our life companion and have only one.”

  “Then why would you assume that’s any different for me? Am I really so loathsome you assume me capable of the most odious transgressions?”

  Catrin turned away and tramped forward. Well, that answered his question.

  ***

  Night snuck up on them swiftly. After plodding along all day, Meuric was impressed; the boots kept his feet dry and blister free. As dusk fell, they kept an eye out for a sheltered area to make camp. Meuric spotted a massive pine tree with drooping branches. He parted a limb and peered underneath. The ground was free of snow and covered in soft pine needles.

  Catrin called behind him. “Find your salvation?”

  “Haw, haw. You’re amusing. No, see for yourself. This tree will provide cover for the night. He stepped underneath, and Catrin followed him. The low branches of the tree were high enough that he could stand. The thick boughs protected them from the wind. He could even light a fire under the tree.

  Meuric pushed needles into a pile and picked up small branches. He cleared away a circle of needles from around the pile, to keep the fire contained, and scavenged for a few rocks to make a fire ring. Catrin leaned against the tree, watching him as she ate a piece of bread.

  She cleared her throat. “Have any bright ideas about how you’re starting your fire?”

  “Have a little faith, Catrin.” Meuric rummaged in his pack and pulled out a flint and stone. “I asked around for a fire starter.”

  Catrin was jiggling her leg over her knee, turning her ankle in the air, as Meuric scraped flint over the stone. Sparks leapt and died even though Meuric held the stone close. Blast this infernal device!

  “Have you ever started a fire before?”

  Meuric ignored the amusement in her voice. The temperature was dropping, and he desperately wanted heat.

  “Yes. Have you ever started a fire without using your light?” Meuric increased the intensity with which he struck the stone. He never used his light to start fire, but he’d set fire to many villages by torches, which, conveniently, had been lit by one of his men.

  She twisted the end of her braid around her finger before answering. “No, actually. I haven’t started a fire.”

  Meuric stopped his attempt and looked at her. Naturally she wouldn’t have had a need. She could cook food with her bare hands, heat her own body, or use dragon fire. When would she ever have needed to make a flame? “Let’s see you try this… without using your power.”

  Catrin elbowed him aside as she took the flint from his hands. Meuric smirked at her. If this started the fire, that was fine with him. She struck the stone near the needles. Sparks ignited and disappeared.

  “No cheating,” he said. “I can sense if you use your energy.”

  Pushing the needles closer, Catrin struck the flint right into their midst. She leaned down and blew a gentle breath. A faint emergence of smoke trickled into the air, and a bright orange glow crept from needle to needle. Charred remnants clung to a rim of radiance as fire surged to the next victim. Catrin held a stick in the growing flame and waited until it caught before moving it to another.

  Mesmerized, Meuric was unable to move as he watched the flames spread. The scene shifted before his eyes. A shrouded body lay on a pile of dead wood. He had seen this before. Was this a memory? A person—Rhianu—with a cascade of red hair, lifted a torch and touched it to the pyre. She scowled, and Meuric noted her lack of compassion. No tear dropped as she watched the body burn. Meuric’s insides turned. How could his sister have killed her
father? He thought he knew her. This changed everything.

  She’s capable of anything.

  Catrin nudged him in the bicep, and he vaguely registered her.

  “Meuric? Hello?” She waved her hand before his face. Meuric shook his head.

  “What?” He looked at the fire. Several logs had caught. He glared at Catrin.

  “Did you fall into a trance or something?” she asked. “I’ve been waving my hands in front of your face for about a minute.”

  He had lost time. “What?” he repeated like a half-wit.

  “Are you impressed? A first for me.” Catrin gleamed with pride.

  Meuric didn’t answer her. He stood, and his legs wobbled. He wanted to get out of there. With the pretense of searching for more wood, Meuric stalked away—away from the fire and the vision of his sister.

  “Fine, Meuric, I’ll keep your fire burning while you stomp off. Don’t forget…” Catrin called after him.

  He wouldn’t forget. Curses, he would never forget his promise. For the love of dragons—she was pushing him to the brink of madness.

  ***

  A stack of wood lay around the fire, drying. Meuric unfurled his bedroll close to the heat. Catrin lounged near the base of the tree. Meuric swore the trunk had grown several inches since they’d been sitting beside it, or else the dim light fooled him.

  Would it grow so much during the night as to push against them? The bizarreness of it all. He didn’t bother to ask Catrin about the tegyd, who could grow trees. Magical folk was all he knew, and that was enough. This is a different world.

  Humans and half-emrys lived in Morvith. The half-emrys were in control, and Rhianu used the magic of the Dark Master. No such creatures as little people or tegyd existed in his homeland. Or fey, who shrank poor explorers trapped in bogs.

  Exhaustion soon overwhelmed him, and Meuric succumbed to dreams. Dylis danced a jig, twirling strands of earthy-colored wool over her head, but she morphed into Rhianu, who was grotesquely round with child and doubling over as a contraction racked her body. Meuric rushed to help Rhianu, but when she peered into his face, he looked back into Mara’s.

  Exotic Mara.

  She cried out. “Meuric!” He gathered her in his arms, but she turned to sand and sifted through his fingers. He swiped at his cheeks, wet with moisture. “Mara!” he called out. “Mara!” Light flashed in his face, and he bolted upright.

  His warrior instincts reacted. A writhing mass of dark matter, as deadly as a dagger, formed in his hands. Meuric didn’t need man-made tools because his tool was in him.

  He stopped himself from releasing the weapon in a careless act of defense because he saw what alarmed him.

  A figure perched on a log before the fire. Meuric dispersed his energy, waving it away in a wisp, and observed the creature quietly.

  Undisturbed by Meuric’s abrupt awakening, the creature didn’t move. And creature it was because, though the face and chest was that of a man, Meuric saw, with a disturbing realization, antlers tapering out of a head of umber hair. What looked to Meuric like animal pelts, draped over the man’s legs, was actually fur, starting below the naval and following narrow sinewy legs down to a pair of hooves. He hasn’t a scrap of clothes on!

  His waking alarm went unnoticed by Catrin as she continued to sleep. The sky beyond the branches held a faint grayness, foretelling the break of dawn.

  The deer-man spoke with a thick accent, his words rolling off his tongue. “Why do these dreams haunt you?”

  Meuric shifted up to one knee, ready to challenge the intruder. “What business is this to you?” With only one twitch, Meuric could release a deadly blow if the intruder attacked.

  The part human straightened, accentuating his broad, well-muscled, bare chest. “You are becoming part of the past, but the events will not change. You have already carried them out.”

  Meuric flexed his fist and gazed at Catrin, who slept with her hands curled under her chin. He should wake her before the situation escalated out of control. Or before Meuric had a reason to kill the creature.

  The stranger waved a hand. “Let her sleep. Her heart is heavy with trouble. Her future will be hard for her to bear.”

  “What do you mean?” Meuric rose to his full height and stretched his shoulders wide. I hate playing games.

  The creature laughed. “You amuse me. Relax, Son of Light. I am the beacon you seek.”

  “Why do you call me this?”

  “You are a Son of Light, are you not?”

  “It’s muddy blood.”

  “That matters not. You are still a son, and the Master knows your name.”

  Meuric scoffed loudly, and Catrin rolled over. “Why would the Master care for the likes of me? I am nothing.”

  “He has not forsaken you. Yet you forsake him.”

  “I worship no master. They have given me nothing. They have taken from me what I hold most dear. They have toyed with me and cast me beyond my home. I am left desolate!” Meuric sidled toward Catrin.

  The deer-man poked at the fire with a stick. “Before the end your eyes will see.”

  “See what… at what end? Are you here solely to torment me?”

  The antlered creature remained motionless and didn’t seem the least bit strained over Meuric’s unsettled demeanor. While he squatted beside Catrin, Meuric kept his eyes on the deer-man. Meuric applied gentle pressure as he placed a hand on her shoulder. She stirred with a violent speed and grabbed Meuric by the throat. His surprise was equal to Catrin’s alarm.

  “Catrin… we have… a guest,” Meuric rasped. His neck was becoming uncomfortably hot. She was going to burn him.

  Her fingers slackened, and she released Meuric. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and she immediately turned to the deer-man. Catrin rose off her pallet and glided over to him. “You grace us with your presence. I am Catrin.” She inclined her head to him.

  Meuric lifted his chin and rubbed his throat. “Uh, Catrin?”

  She ignored him and addressed the deer-man. “We seek your aid and wisdom.”

  “I know what you seek. I am Beli.” He nodded in Meuric’s direction. “Your companion doesn’t like or trust me.”

  Catrin considered Meuric before she laughed. “Yes, he’s amusing that way, having lived a sheltered life.”

  Meuric scoffed. “Hey, the man or deer, or whatever he is, speaks garbled drivel.”

  “Meuric, this is a tegyd. I told you they’d find us.” Catrin addressed Beli. “What did you say to irritate him so?”

  “The usual idle gobbledygook.” Beli’s smile was laced with allure, and Meuric almost yelled in outrage. Catrin didn’t seem to notice or care about Beli’s flirtatious manner.

  Meuric shifted a log so he could sit. Be done with this.

  Catrin grasped the tegyd’s hand. Meuric’s heart quickened with annoyance.

  “What of your magic? What do you know? You’ve begun preparations—the forest grows,” she said.

  “Aye, we feel a wind of change. The air waves with restless hunger, drawing a lilting song across the void.”

  Meuric’s annoyance grew. “Speak clearly man. What are you talking about? Catrin, tell him. We came to ask for help for the Eilian.”

  Beli winked. “We are aware. There is time, Catrin. You have many moons yet.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “More or less. The forest will grow on for a moon’s cycle, and then we will help the Eilian build their homes.” Beli lifted Catrin’s chin with his index finger. “But you have a different path.”

  Catrin naïvely blinked up at the tegyd’s face. Meuric wanted to snap Beli’s finger off. Just one simple twist.

  Beli leaned toward Catrin and whispered in her ear. Catrin blushed, glanced at Meuric with a bemused expression on her face, and laughed incredulously.

  Meuric would have glowered, but he kept his face impassive. He didn’t think much of this tegyd, and if they were all the same, he didn’t like the lot of them. Judgmental, sure, but he didn’
t care. If Catrin was going to be an idiot, then he’d have to carry the conversation. “Beli, what is this different path you speak of?”

  Beli didn’t take his eyes off Catrin. He prized her as if she were his sweetheart. “Your path is not to help the Eilian. You must travel to Gorlassar. Your destiny lies there.”

  “Will I be able to return to my time?” Catrin’s face brimmed with hope.

  “I cannot say.”

  Catrin tittered as she patted Beli’s hand. “Oh, Beli. I know the tegyd’s ways. You really meant, I will not say, but you know.”

  He grinned. “Perhaps. You will have to act on faith.”

  “Are we done now?” Meuric asked. “Your people will help the Eilian, while we travel to Gorlassar. This is what you say we must do?”

  “Aye.”

  “Tell them… the Eilian, we meant to return. Are you sure they’ll be all right?” Catrin asked.

  “We grow the trees for them and for us. They will live in the tops, and we will live underground. If we had time, I would show you our realm. Catrin, you would love it. Our domain is a vast network of caves with glowing crystals. Mineral rock drips from the ceiling, creating great columns of stone. The intertwining tree roots run deep into the earth. They will be thicker than the supportive branches of the Eilian’s huts and will protect us, creating a barrier from the outside world, fortified with magic, of course.”

  A smile crept across Catrin’s face, and she leaned closer to Beli. “I’ve seen it—in my time. You’ll have a lovely kingdom when it’s done.” Catrin tilted her forehead until she touched Beli’s. Her fingers found the tegyd’s head, slipping into his hair, and she held him there with her eyes closed.

  “That’s it!” Meuric parted the boughs of the pine and hastily retreated into the sunlight—his patience was past the point of recovering.