Chronicles of the Half-Emrys Box Set (Books 1-3)
Page 65
***
Meuric trudged through the snow as the forest pricked with life. Beli’s smile for her.
He unsheathed the knife at his hip. Catrin’s hand on his hand.
As a bird trilled, Meuric squeezed the blade and turned, looking behind himself. Deer-boy’s finger on her chin!
Red crowded his vision. His words sparked her laugh. Her fingers slipped into his hair.
Meuric whipped around and threw the knife. A tiny red bird, twenty feet high in a tree to his right, dropped to the ground, knife in its heart.
After stalking over to the creature, Meuric glared at the crippled form lying in the snow.
A compulsion to kill Beli flared inside, all because of the way Catrin had touched him. Because of the way they had touched each other. Meuric shook his head.
This was Rhianu’s fault. These feelings were beyond his control.
Her stern face filled his memories…
“Swear to me, Meuric.” Rhianu grabbed his wrist and turned his palm up. “This could have been avoided.” She drew a knife across the center of his palm. “The dragon didn’t need to die.”
Meuric didn’t even flinch. “It’s not my job to forbid you. I can’t hold you to any promise. You’ve always done whatever you’ve desired.” Rhianu had killed the dragon to punish her lover for betrayal. No limitations stopped her from enacting revenge.
“Then I’ll make you a promise in return.” Rhianu drew the blade across her palm before dropping it. “I’ll never become ensnared in love again. You’re to hold me to this.” She squeezed her palm, coating the surface in blood.
He locked eyes with her. He wanted to make sure Rhianu knew he was serious. “Fine. I’ll do as you ask. I’ll kill any man who touches you or looks at you with desire.” Meuric squeezed his palm until the blood dripped out the side.
“Good.” She grabbed Meuric’s wrist and pressed his bloody palm over her heart as she did the same over his heart.
Meuric grunted. A pact had been made. The connection secured by dark magic seared through his heart-center…
He dropped to his knees in the snow. He hadn’t killed Einion to fulfill his promise. Meuric was going to, even though Rhianu had begged him to spare his life. But she had broken her promise first. She fell in love.
Even as he pulled the knife from the bird, the urge to maim, the urge to cut Beli’s eyes out, edged him. The binding magic made him want to kill.
Catrin is not Rhianu. I am bound by no oath to Catrin.
She didn’t have the same commanding and controlling effect over Meuric that Rhianu did. Rationally, any person could separate the two woman. Beli and Catrin’s little encounter and personal interaction shared no similarities with Rhianu and Einion’s relationship.
Why was this affecting him so?
He swallowed. He had made Catrin an oath. Wretched powers! His heart-center was confused, transferring his obligation to satisfy his promise from one woman to the other. Meuric groaned.
Aching from torment, Meuric shrugged off his cloak and wriggled out of his surcoat. As he whipped his shirt off his head, cold laced his skin. Numb and puffing icy breath into the air, Meuric drew the blade over his heart, cutting slow and deep. He was going to bleed his promise to Rhianu from himself. It was broken anyway. Neither had fulfilled the agreement. Meuric didn’t want the dark magic to sully his mind and control his impulses.
I am bound to Catrin only by the promise I made her. I’ll not leave her until we return home. She is not connected in any way to Rhianu and our twisted past.
His blood dripped onto the snow, melting each crystal it touched. When the desire to murder Beli subsided, Meuric rubbed a handful of snow onto his cut, pressing firmly until it stopped bleeding.
Every foul word ripped through his mind as the snow burned. Before redressing, he sliced a strip of wool from his cloak and looped it under his armpit and over his opposite shoulder so the wound was covered.
The cut would weep as an angry reminder of his promises. And to keep his distance from Catrin. Curse you, Rhianu. Curse you, Catrin.
He most certainly did not need to be tangled up in emotions with Blondie, whether by magic or otherwise.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PROMISED MISERY
Catrin flitted through the great forest, and the trees kept growing wider and taller. The rate of increase appeared to have multiplied. The forest would be full-grown in less than a month.
Her experience with Beli did much to lift her spirits. At least she had a purpose. She was going home. Whether this Gorlassar was hers or not, Catrin felt great relief to be taking action. She refused to consider the difficulties in getting there. Having no dragon meant a long journey, and she’d have to scale the mountain to reach the entrance. Trifles. She’d figure out a way.
She twirled in the snow, stooped to pick up a handful, and launched it overhead. The cascade drifted off course into Meuric’s face. He spit and swiped at it. Meuric had been grumpy ever since morning, and his mood wasn’t improving.
Catrin scooped up another handful and blew it at Meuric. He stopped and glowered at her as the particles settled on his cloak, hat, and brows—anywhere they’d stick. Catrin giggled a light girlish laugh, and she danced around Meuric, tracing her fingers through the dusting of snow on his cloak.
Meuric remained a frowning statue.
“Lighten up a bit.” Catrin laughed at the pun. He could benefit from some light.
“I don’t care for this, Catrin.” Meuric didn’t budge, as if he were a menacing warrior awaiting the signal for battle.
“You mean you’re soured by the mystifying words of Beli.” She stopped dancing and placed her hands on her hips.
“Not his words.”
Catrin sputtered. “You mean his flirtatious nature?”
“Let me clarify. What, from the depths of Uffern, was that?”
“You don’t have to speak of that foul place to me. Keep your oaths to yourself. The tegyd are ebullient people. You should try being more jovial and less dead inside.”
“He was all over you like a common whore.”
“He most certainly was not. Not like how your whoring sister pawed over Einion!”
Meuric grabbed Catrin by her shoulders and shoved her against a tree trunk. Her head slammed against the bark, and she huffed a startled cry when pain stabbed her skull. With his nose inches from her face, Meuric pressed his forearm against her chest and scowled.
Her arms hung slack at her sides, but her fingertips dug into the tree. Energy pulsed beneath her skin. Meuric was wise to touch only her clothes. One wrong move and she’d burn him—again. “Haven’t killed anyone lately? All the pent-up aggression is just eating you inside.”
He leaned into her chest. “You have no idea how much pent-up aggression I have, nor do you know what I could do to you.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“Show me why I should fear.”
“No.” His pressure slackened. Meuric was going to release her.
Catrin wasn’t missing an opportunity to put Meuric in his place, so she egged him further. “I held a knife to Rhianu’s throat. I cut her. She spilled precious drops of blood.”
She knew his darkness churned below the surface, like her light—vibrating, building, waiting to be unleashed. He held it back, and Catrin wondered why he bothered. Release it. I dare you.
His raw strength didn’t cast a shadow into Catrin’s heart. No matter how his teeming darkness manifested, Catrin didn’t fear this hardened warrior. She could be free of his hold with one energy thrust, but a show of his power might help Meuric feel control, since this was clearly what he lacked.
Catrin pursed her lips. She could be so generous.
His blue eyes grayed. A growl rumbled from Meuric. “You know Rhianu’s carrying Einion’s bastard child!”
His hand pounded the tree beside her ear, and Catrin winced, turning her head slightly. That’s why he’s riled.
Meuric leaned closer until his hot breath covered her face. Any closer and the stumble on his chin might scratch her jaw. “You were weeping on the boat. Your heart’s broken because they’re lovers. I beat him nearly to death because of his indiscretion. His precious blood spilled.” Meuric released his hold on her and stepped back, triumphant.
Catrin’s hand flew, and the resulting slap echoed through the crisp air. A blotchy, red welt formed on his cheek.
Meuric turned the blemish-free cheek to her. “You forgot one.”
Her other hand flew and caught his right side. His face burned with two palm prints. Brute! Curse him! Why, of all the people to be stuck with on this forsaken journey, did it have to be him?
Meuric didn’t rub his cheeks.
Catrin stalked away. “Why couldn’t you let me be happy for the moment?”
“You don’t acknowledge the truth in front of you and act as though nothing’s wrong.”
She heard his footsteps behind her.
“That’s so far from the truth. I know full well my situation, and I choose to be happy. If you don’t like it, go away. I give you permission to leave.”
“Don’t let me off so easily, Catrin. I made a promise, and don’t forget—I can find you anywhere. We have a connection.”
Catrin confronted him, ignoring the knots in her stomach. His face was a glowing testimony of Catrin’s lack of control. “Why’re we doing this? What have we to gain by sticking together?”
Meuric narrowed his eyes. “Misery.”
***
Energy was no longer wasted by bouncing through the forest. She and Meuric moved with stoic fluidity—in silence. The days forged ahead, darker and darker as the trees shaded their journey. Catrin wanted out of the forest and onto the pretended road, the road that followed the river upstream to the narrow pass and had yet to be traveled in this time.
They trudged on, the same every day. The weather warmed, the snow melted, and the mud dried. Catrin knew the spring rains would come, creating melancholy drudgery.
Meuric was a conflicting joy to be around as he stomped and raged through the forest. All the three realms would hear him. He griped about the food. He grumbled about the cold. Catrin didn’t understand why he didn’t use his light. Once, he mumbled something about the accursed tegyd.
During a short break, Meuric threw his knife repeatedly into an unfortunate tree. After he ripped the knife from the trunk, he turned, and she caught him pensively rubbing his cheek. His eyes were midnight blue. They seemed to change with his moods, revealing deep-seated problems.
He glared at Catrin.
Oh… I’m his problem. I’m not doing a thing to vex him. She was being as sweet as possible.
Catrin frowned. Why did he stay with her? She pictured him on the boat with the Eilian and with the little ladies in the village and with Dewydd’s children. Sometimes he was gentle at heart, but right now, he abhorred her.
And he made no effort to hide his loathing.
So silence ensued. And though unbearable, though Catrin wondered if he might slay her while she slept, his presence, no matter how ghastly, comforted Catrin.
At least she wasn’t alone. I can do this. Gorlassar is only… months away.
***
Meuric stared into the flames of his humble fire until he thought his retinas might incinerate. Nothing diffused his mood, which had firmly solidified in his heart-center when Catrin slapped him. Why was he doing this? He owed her nothing. I promised her.
As his eyelids grew heavy, Meuric wished with all his soul he was with Arya.
Beautiful Arya…
“This is not who you are, my love.” She held his blood-streaked face in her hands.
Meuric ordered the jailer away. He’d have to punish the guard who let his wife slink past. Meuric never let Arya see, never told her what he did to prisoners in the dungeons.
But she knew.
She had entered the chamber as his fist struck. The prisoner moaned. Blood splattered the floor and across Meuric.
Feeling her presence, he whipped around.
Arya glided over to him and slid her fingertips up his bloody forearm.
Meuric drew away, but she coiled herself against him, heedless of the carnage, heedless of the man collapsed on the floor.
Mortification cut him. “Arya, you need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“This is not who you are.”
“This has always been who I am.”
“I know you. I see you. You try to hide your duties—the things she asks you to do.”
He buried his face in Arya’s hair. How could this woman love him, in spite of his darkness? How?
“You can change. For me… for your child.” She brought Meuric’s hand to her stomach.
He gulped. “You’re… you’re with child?”
“Yes, my love.”
He knew, in this moment, he had to be a better man. “I promise you, Arya. I promise you I will change…”
Meuric jolted awake. His body stiffened. The fire had died, but the sky was still dark. Catrin lay on the other side of the fire ring. He felt her glow. Her faint light that tapped at his subconscious. His diminutive light was drawn to hers, as if the lights wanted to be together.
Meuric swallowed. He turned onto his stomach and buried his head in his hands. He almost expected to feel blood on his face. Audacious Arya. Never afraid of him. Never afraid of what he could do and how he tortured and disfigured men.
Because Rhianu asks me to.
This is not who you are.
He lied to Arya. He had pushed his oath away after her death.
This is not who you are.
This is who I am, Arya. You died! You left me and took our child to the beyond with you. This is exactly who I am!
You promised.
All the confounded promises he kept making!
And Meuric couldn’t break them.
He closed his eyes and whispered to the dawn. “You win, Arya.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
QUESTIONS, QUESTIONS
After days of Meuric’s sour attitude, he woke in a cheery mood.
Catrin felt emotional whiplash as if Meuric had slammed a rock against her skull, repeatedly, while she slept. She rubbed her temple, sending light to heal her throbbing head. What’s he playing at?
He hummed while he packed up camp.
He must have come to terms with his sentence. Poor thing, having to suffer by following me through another time.
His steps were quick and light with a slight spring. Meuric pointed out the wildlife as they hiked. “Look, Catrin, a fox…” Or a herd of deer. “There’s a hawk on that tree branch.”
Catrin humored him by looking. She had to give him commendation. His efforts fragmented the tension between them. As she forged ahead, with a bit of prying, Catrin got Meuric to talk about his homeland, and she described Gorlassar at length to him.
Oh, how she ached for Gorlassar! Clear skies. Fields of flowers and crops. Animals who grazed right up to her. Dragons. Comforts of home. Knowing where she belonged and feeling loved.
Meuric did enjoy the country they were moving through, despite the winter. He simply said, in the part of Morvith where he was from, there weren’t any trees of this nature, even before the tegyd enchanted them. Two vastly different lands. Catrin couldn’t picture the dismal place.
The trees they passed through were at least twelve feet in diameter. The undergrowth dwindled as the tree’s height blocked out the sun. Wildlife would soon retreat to other valleys and other groves free of tegyd magic.
They found the river and made camp, similar to every other night before, under a looming pine with the same fire and dreary, depressing sequence of events.
While Meuric ate, Catrin stared at the navy blue stone grazing his tuft of chest hairs. Each dragons’ color matched the stone their rider wore. Cerys matched the brilliant teal stone Catrin had fitted into a silver setting.
“I don’t suppose our dragons will still have unending life if we don’t return home,” she said.
Meuric paused, midchew. He swallowed. “Are you accepting the reality that we’re stuck here?”
Catrin tossed a leaf in the fire. You are. “Not on your life. It’s just… we can’t hear them. They no longer have the connection to us. They’re mortal.”
“I suppose they are. Derog doesn’t deserve this. He has been the most loyal of dragons. I’ve failed as a dragon guardian.”
Her face pinched. “I didn’t know the Dark Emrys cared about their duty as dragon guardians. I thought Cysgod wanted the dragons to die. He was bent on killing the ones in Gorlassar, yet he uses the ones in Morvith as a tool of destruction.”
“Mother taught us the traditions and ways of life in Gorlassar. We follow the basic ideals. My purpose has never been to destroy the dragons—”
“Just to conquer those who are weaker than you.”
“What do you know of my dealings?” His eyes stayed azure blue.
“Is it true you follow your sister? She’s the ruler of Morvith, and you lead her armies?”
“Where did you hear this?”
Catrin kicked at a branch. “Come on, Meuric. I heard everything Rhianu told Einion. I watched her betray him through Trahaearn’s memories. She’s the Vessel. You must be her second.”
“And what if I am her second?” A vein bulged at his temple. “You think my darkness makes me abominable. You wonder what things I’ve done. Who I’ve killed. How can I trust him, you ask? How do I know he won’t leave me here forever in the past?”
Catrin’s mouth fell open.
“Curse you, Catrin! I’m loyal. I’m ever so loyal, if that’s what you’re wondering—who holds my allegiance. To Rhianu, always to Rhianu. And Derog.” His voice dropped, and he stared at the ground. “And apparently, now to you.”