by Lisa Rector
Catrin shut her mouth. She wasn’t going to look at him.
After smoothing out her bedroll, she slid inside. Catrin didn’t want to talk to Meuric anymore tonight. He had a way of always crushing whatever small amount of jubilation she possessed.
And he had a way of making her feel so utterly alone in her misery. This didn’t even include the day she left Einion and went home to Gorlassar. Then, she had felt a shallow loneliness, brought on by her own decisions. This time her circumstances were out of her hands.
Catrin wished for one annoying grin from Einion, one infuriating taunt from the games they shared.
I shouldn’t have left Einion. None of this would have happened if she had stayed with him. None of it.
***
After seven days, they passed through the east side of the Great Forest and came to the narrow pass that cut through the mountain range.
As they set up camp at the mouth of the pass, Catrin debated whether to ask Meuric about his love life. He hadn’t answered the question she asked days ago. Have you ever loved? He might be married. As old as Meuric might be, possibly over two-thousand years old, he had to have been married at one time or another.
“Are you married?” The words tumbled out, and she almost wished she could take them back.
Meuric was crouched, clearing brush away, preparing to make his much-needed fire. He stopped with a twig clutched between his fingers.
Catrin couldn’t see his eyes, but a dark cloud passed over his countenance. Maybe he assumed they’d avoid personal topics, but she had to ask.
Meuric touched his stubbly chin and looked down. He seemed to deliberate what exactly to tell her. When he spoke, he didn’t make the effort to glance up.
“I have no wife.”
He pulled the fire starter out of his pack and said nothing more.
Catrin watched his movements; he was now proficient at starting fires. Meuric had shed his cloak, revealing a fairly clean coverlet, except along the front bottom where it had been unprotected by his cloak. Meuric wiped his hands on his pants after he pushed the brush into a pile.
She was afraid to press him further, but she wanted to know. The way he replied meant he had more he wasn’t saying.
Catrin tried another angle. “Did you ever have a wife?”
“Perhaps.” He struck the whet stone.
“What happened to her?”
A spark jumped and died. “That is a question for another day. I do not wish to speak about it.”
“Please.”
He struck again. “Do you want me to start asking questions about Einion?”
“No.”
“Do me the same courtesy about my wives.”
“Wives?”
Meuric dropped the starter. He muttered a curse under his breath and shook his head. “Catrin, have we not been getting along civilly? Please, let the past lie.”
“You had more than one wife?”
“One at a time.”
“Oh. Were they mortal?” Obviously, Meuric had lived long enough to have more than one wife. Catrin wanted to smack her forehead. Humans lived only half a century or, if they were lucky, eighty years.
Meuric roared. “Catrin!”
“All right, all right! I just wanted to know something more about you than how you appreciate the weather.”
His body relaxed. “Well, if you must know, I despise this accursed weather. Look at the sky. Smell the air. It’s going to rain.”
“I know. It’ll rain for many weeks. On and off and on again. You’ll hate it.”
Meuric resumed his striking of the stone. A spark leapt and grabbed a pine needle—enough to catch. “Well, you see. You know that much about me. It’s as if we’re kindred spirits.” He blew gently on the flame.
Catrin smirked. “Yes, oh so kindred.” She sighed.
The fire blazed, finally, and Catrin leaned against a boulder. “I’ll tell you something about myself.” She continued without waiting for Meuric’s reply. “I have over six dozen beehives throughout Gorlassar. I harvest several different types of honey and make different flavors with various herbs and flowers. This is my most acknowledged skill.”
Meuric was sitting on a rock near the fire and held his hands over the flame. “I’d love to taste that honey someday. It’s a rarity in my land. We have to trade for honey from far in the south. What’s your best flavor?”
Catrin smiled, delighted he accepted the small talk. “Linden honey. I use it in my herbal teas because of the fresh, woodsy taste, but I also love wildflower honey. Its taste is rich and thick. Place a spoonful directly on your tongue, and your mouth will draw up from the pungent sweetness.”
Meuric smiled back at her. “I could go for some honey. If it were summer, we could find a hive.”
“That would be delightful. I’m getting sick of this food.”
Meuric laughed. “Yes, no more jerky for Catrin.”
“It’s five days through the pass, Meuric. It’s completely barren. No wood—only rock. The trail winds on and narrows in spots but always widens enough for a man.” She didn’t know how he’d stay warm without a supply of wood.
Meuric poked at his meager fire. “Are you suggesting I carry wood?”
“For five days? Don’t be silly.” She hoped this would convince him to use his light. “So… are you going to tell me why you won’t use your light? Aren’t you tired of being cold?”
Meuric jabbed the fire hard. “Catrin, why can’t you keep your prying questions to yourself?”
Infuriating man! “Why can’t you tell me?”
Meuric’s stupid, white cap was pulled low over his brow. He had redressed in his cloak and had pulled it around himself, huddling near the fire as if he were freezing. Catrin lounged several feet away and was as toasty as an egg under dragon fire.
“Tell me,” she pressed.
“No.” Meuric held his hands over the fire.
She slowly rose to her feet, appraising Meuric, inching closer. Without warning, Catrin lunged at him, grabbed the woolen cap off his head, and raced into the forest.
“Waste of your energy!” Meuric yelled.
Catrin ducked behind a tree trunk, her breath forming ice crystals in the air. She smiled. How long would he keep her waiting?
She counted. One… two…
Meuric materialized in front of her, and he roared like a dragon in her face.
Startled, Catrin yelped and lost hold of the cap when Meuric yanked it out of her hand. He ran toward the campsite.
Catrin followed suit but was dismayed when he disappeared. “Oh, Meuric!” She stopped and yelled, “That’s hardly fair.”
She dragged her feet back into the firelight, where Meuric was reclining near the fire with his cap on. A low growl hissed in her throat.
“I told you to save your energy,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you I’d find you anywhere? I have only to think of your glorious countenance, and there I am.”
Catrin slumped down opposite him. “Can you teach me to do that?”
Flames danced in his eyes. They looked more blue than gray. He was smiling at her.
Catrin blanched. He had fancied the exertion a little too much.
“Doubtful. You have to carry darkness.” He sat up and wrapped his arms around his bent knees, oblivious to Catrin’s embarrassment.
Meuric was a brat.
“How does ether jumping work?” Catrin wanted to know anything that gave her a clue to getting home.
“I really don’t want to talk about that.”
“But that’s how you brought me here. That’s how we’ll return home, right?”
“You hope so.” Meuric began turning a pebble in his hand. Again with the fidgeting.
“You just jumped…” Catrin really wanted to make sense of this ability. “Yet, you can’t take us through time.”
Meuric leaned over his knees. “You won’t be satisfied until I tell you.”
“Nope.”
He grumbled and rubbed
his forehead. “I’ll tell you what the darkness feels like since you don’t carry dark matter and couldn’t possibly imagine how using it feels.”
“And I don’t ever intend to carry dark matter or use it.”
“As I expected, princess. Don’t interrupt. My darkness feels slippery. It slides around in my heart-center until I call on it. When I do, particles speed up, and immense pressure builds—”
“My head felt as though it might explode when we passed through.”
“I said ‘don’t interrupt,’ or I’m not finishing.”
“Fine!”
“Besides, that’s different. As gravitational pressure builds, I squeeze the particles together. This happens in seconds. Until all at once they scatter—violently. They blow apart, pulling my physical molecules and my spirit with them. The only way I reappear is because of the light I carry. I believe it pulls me back together.”
“Are you crazy? You could have killed us!”
“Woman, I had no control over the jump through time.”
“How were you able to pull me?”
“That I don’t know. Einion and Siana were the first people I transported.”
Catrin jumped up. “You took a chance with them!”
Meuric met Catrin face-to-face, spreading his chest broad. “Yes. I took Einion to the battle to save him.”
Her shoulders dropped, and her eyes narrowed. Meuric wasn’t lying. Why did he have to be so confusing? She wanted to hate him, but he kept revealing this whole other persona. “Oh, did you? Very well. I’ll forgive you for experimenting on them. I’m glad they pulled back together.”
“Trust me; I wouldn’t have sacrificed my mother in such a way if I wasn’t confident she’d be fine.”
The unsaid words hung between them. He’d sacrifice Einion though. Meuric couldn’t be trusted. When it served his purpose, he was bound to double-cross her.
Meuric’s pupils moved left and right as he took her in. They were so dilated she didn’t see any color.
“Dark matter is tricky.” He chucked the pebble to the side but didn’t take his eyes off Catrin. “It must have transferred to you instantaneously. Your light was the only force that saved you.”
“Have you ever transported a Dark Emrys?”
“No. I don’t think they’d survive.”
“Why use such a risky power?”
“I didn’t at first.”
“How did you realize you could ether jump?” she asked.
“I’m not sharing details. I’m just going to say that at a particularly downtrodden period in my life, I had a flashback to a traumatic time. An immense pressure weighed on me as glimpses of the memory took over. The sensation was the same as when we moved through time to arrive here. A black void of nothing and light again. I was in a different place. At first I didn’t know what happened. Though the building had fallen into disrepair, I recognized the place. I had lived there a couple of hundred years prior, and I immediately wanted to get away.”
“Why?”
“You’re like a child with your questions. I don’t care to share my past with you. Now leave me be.” Meuric lay down and pulled his blanket over his head.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DELYTH
A small weight thudded on Meuric’s chest. He rubbed his eyes and pried them open. Two dead rabbits lay on him. Meuric looked over at Catrin, who was busy stoking the fire. Daybreak was upon them.
Meuric couldn’t contain the smile that crept over his face. “Oh, you killed for me. I knew you’d warm up to me. You took only… How many days have we been out?”
“Don’t pretend as though you aren’t counting. We’ve followed the river for nine days. I thought—since you have much suffering ahead, what, with the rain coming, the lack of wood, and the subsequent freezing of your hide—you deserved a final meal.”
“Aw, you’re sending me to my death. How thoughtful.”
Catrin rolled her eyes. Meuric unsheathed the knife from his belt and carried the rabbits away to gut and skin them.
When Meuric returned, the coals burned hot. He didn’t ask if she used her light—he knew she did. He didn’t care. Meuric could smell the delicious morsels cooking before they even started. After skewering the rabbits on sticks, Catrin and Meuric turned the meat over the coals.
As they ate, Meuric wondered how he’d manage the next few days. They had enough rations for the journey through the pass. After that, they’d hunt daily. What nagged at him was the impending lack of heat. Sure, he could produce a shield to repel the rain, but he’d continue to be cold. The early spring weather still carried a chill.
They cleared camp just as the rain started. Meuric pulled his hood up and forced his dark energy out in a canopy over his head. Raindrops disappeared into the void. Meuric sighed. He was relieved to stay dry. Catrin’s shield of light dried up the raindrops before they contacted her cloak.
Clouds blocked the sunlight, so the day was drab enough, and the pass stamped out any remaining light. The farther they moved into the crevice, the bleaker their surroundings became.
Meuric ran his fingers over the cold stone. The rock walls extended a couple of hundred feet into the air. An earthquake must have formed the pass, tearing the mountain apart, or else the Masters purposely graced the terrain with such an astounding landmark. The rock had many different layers of stone, ranging in color from sand, to muddy brown, and to slate gray.
Catrin walked in front of Meuric. She had cast up a compact glowing orb, which hovered over her right shoulder, creating enough light for her and Meuric to see by.
Meuric stared at Catrin’s wagging braid. She made projecting light look easy. He was a fool. He should give in and let light become his ruling power. Why did he think the darkness was ever superior? Because the light had failed him once—no not once, but twice. A bitter seed of mistrust prodded its roots deeper whenever he thought about the events. Light was supposed to heal, but it had not. It didn’t keep Mara and Arya from passing into the beyond. Meuric grew his dark power and relished the strength and solid grounding the light didn’t provide. No, he remembered full well why he’d made his choice.
“You still warm?”
“What?” Meuric asked.
“It’s kind of dismal in the pass with no sun. Are you warm enough?”
“Oh… yes. The exertion keeps me warm. It’s the night I worry about.”
“Uh-hmmm,” Catrin muttered. She was too quiet—not her normal, chit-chatty self.
Something was off.
Meuric tried to say something encouraging. He didn’t like the dread that seeped into the atmosphere. “How do you think the Eilian are getting along? Want me to whisk off and check on them?”
Catrin slowed for five paces. She resumed speed, and her voice echoed clearly in the pass. “If you think you need to…”
She sensed something was wrong as well.
Meuric frowned. His offer was making her suspicious. She thinks I’ll leave her here. “No, I thought… maybe, if you wanted to know, I’d check for you.” He wanted to kick himself.
Catrin stopped and turned around. Her orb lifted slightly higher, and she studied Meuric’s face. After days of wandering in the woods, he was accustomed to her radiant features. He staunched an urge to reach out and touch her smooth, porcelain jawline. He imagined running his fingers through her hair that had loosened from its braid.
Meuric pinched himself in the thigh, where Catrin couldn’t see, but hard enough that he winced.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You need time with the Eilian. They’d fix you a nice stew, and you could rest. You must lack the endurance you’re used to, you know, when you were younger.”
He thought she uttered old man under her breath. Oh, she’s a joker. “Catrin, I don’t need coddling. Besides, I wouldn’t be willing to leave you for more than a few minutes. Dark energy saturates the atmosphere.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her at all.
“You feel it too? I thought it
was just me.” Catrin shuddered.
“Something follows us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean”—his voice dropped low—“the Dark Master marks our path. He’s been monitoring our progress. I didn’t sense him in the forest because of the magic of the tegyd. But I feel him now.” He wouldn’t tell Catrin that all beings who used the darkness were linked by the dark matter that swirled within them.
Her green eyes widened. “What? Is this because you’re using your power? You should stop. I can shield you from the rain.” Her voice pitched, on the verge of hysterics.
He tapped his chin. “Maybe.”
“Stop using it! We need to lose him. Take us back to the Eilian.”
Was it wrong he enjoyed her panic? “Do you really think you can hide from the Dark Master?”
She grabbed his arm. “We must try. Please, Meuric!” Catrin was shaking like a frightened child. Under her biting exterior, she was afraid. The brave act she usually displayed was just that—an act. Like you, Meuric.
A vision of Mara flickered in his mind, and her distressed words slashed through him. “Please, Meuric, please,” she begged.
Meuric cursed. Forever haunted. He’d never escape his torments from the past. But he decided. Meuric dropped his shield and ducked under Catrin’s glow. He grabbed her hand and pictured Dewydd. The pressure inside him increased, his ears popped, and darkness enveloped them.
Light returned, and he and Catrin appeared before Dewydd.
The man yelped and jumped back. “Meuric! Catrin!”
Meuric surveyed the scene before him. Little people with carts and herds of animals entered a village in the midst of the ever-growing Great Forest. The trees were at least twenty feet in diameter, in a ring around the village’s perimeter. The spaces between them were becoming more and more narrow, and soon a cart couldn’t squeeze by without scraping bark. Tegyd assisted the Eilian with their belongings, clopping around in the rain, their hooves leaving impressions in the mud. Little women ushered children into the houses out of the downpour.
