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

by Lisa Rector

  That something was still Einion, wasn’t it?

  Meuric had suffered from a broken heart, twice. But he didn’t have to worry about the light he carried. He used his anguish to build his darkness, channeling his angst and hostility into evil deeds and power.

  How would this work for an Emrys of Light? How much suffering would Catrin be able to endure? Einion had not even returned her love. Was this simply from her broken heart? Emotional and spiritual damage was more difficult than physical trauma to repair. Apparently Catrin needed as much healing as Meuric, if not more. He knew she felt pathetic and weak and embarrassed over her heartache. These were feelings she had to work through.

  Meuric couldn’t assist her. He had failed with using the light to heal before, but he would figure out a way to build her spirits. Another woman wouldn’t slip away under his gaze.

  Not if he could help it.

  He gulped, and his dry throat begged for relief.

  Meuric groped for a waterskin. He couldn’t figure out where Catrin had laid their packs. When Meuric sat up, his useless, left arm slid off his chest, dangling hideously from his shoulder. Pain shot through his body, and he cursed. Catrin had not replaced the sling. Meuric pawed around until he found it and worked the fabric, with much difficulty, around his arm and over his head.

  Blast! His shoulder hurt, but working in the dark frustrated him more. He needed a light, right over his head. If he had light, he’d find his pack and find food and drink.

  Meuric closed his eyes and grumbled. He had light—light he could use to see, to heal, to warm his body. He didn’t have to rely on Catrin. He didn’t have to damage her fragile light by continually letting her save his dejected hide.

  Light. He could do this. Light! Ignite. Meuric smacked his palm against his heart, willing a portion of light—pathetic, shriveled, and denied of nourishment—to grow. He imagined a seed. He’d had plenty of water over the past few weeks. Drink. Drink in my determination. Drink in my compassion. Take fuel from my longing. Ignite from my… spark of feelings… for Catrin. I do this for her. For her and no other.

  Meuric flattened his palm where the light would form as it lifted out and up through his skin into a ball. So long since he used the light. Hundreds of years. His hand burned. Tears sprouted in his eyes, which shot open when a glow seeped through his eyelids.

  A light had appeared, a miniscule marble, but it was there. A shiver of excitement ran down Meuric’s spine, and the light grew brighter. He lifted the orb, and it hovered above his head, even after he took his hand away.

  Meuric was thrilled. He wanted to wake Catrin and show her his triumph, but she slept unmoving, utterly exhausted. He left her in peace. This would be his secret.

  He spotted a pack on the other side of Catrin. By rolling to his knees and pushing up with one foot, he staggered to his feet. He struggled, one-handed, with the straps before he found a mushy cheese square. Using his teeth, he pulled the cork off the waterskin and gulped the fluid down. Despite his pain, he was full of energy. They should probably travel on while he felt good.

  Rain dripped steadily off the ledge they were camped under. Meuric couldn’t gauge the time of night because, as usual, storm clouds veiled the moon and stars. When would this accursed rain stop? Meuric crouched beside Catrin’s head.

  Her breathing was steady; she was as peaceful as a blissful child. Meuric remembered his cook’s daughter, sleeping by the hearth of the fire, long ago. He entered the kitchen to return the dinner Mara hadn’t touched. She refused to eat, overwhelmed by grief from losing their baby girl, who had been perfect and tiny—and so still. Meuric sniffled and mopped the snot from his face. His light flickered with his heartache but continued to burn.

  Catrin stirred and moaned. Unable to resist and ignoring his former resolve to guard himself around her, Meuric trailed his hands along the edge of her jaw. He brushed a wisp of hair from her nose and smoothed his fingers over her silken strands, down to the bumps of her long braid. Catrin’s fair skin looked sallow in the meager light. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. When had they formed on her flawless visage?

  Meuric extinguished the light by reaching up and closing his palm around it. The rain pattered and splashed, momentarily owning the peace.

  Something other than the rain stole the rhythmic drumming. Meuric strained to understand. Not an animal. A chill washed over him. Stars above. He knew the feeling all too well. Meuric scrambled to his feet, just in time, before a presence unveiled itself near a tree.

  Meuric could see him without light. A shadow stood out clearly, even against the darkness. A solid form with weight—tangible. The sound, Meuric realized, was the shadow’s hands coming together in slow, punctuated applause.

  “Bravo, Meuric. I’m sure you must be proud of yourself.”

  The voice was strong and clear. Meuric had never heard the Dark Master speak aloud. His influence was felt only through Meuric’s mind. His heart quickened; the Dark Master had sought him out. Did the Dark Master of this time know of Meuric’s treachery in his time? Could an all-powerful being’s knowledge transcend the eternities?

  Meuric’s face hardened. “What do you want?”

  “Come now. I wanted to congratulate you on producing that orb. Quite a feat. My brother wanted me to tell you he’s proud of your progress.”

  “Your brother?” Meuric scoffed. “Lies. You wouldn’t bear a message from the Master of Light.”

  “Oh, not so. I want to please him, just as you aim to please Catrin.” The shadow slunk closer until he stopped ten feet away.

  Meuric blocked the Dark Master’s view of Catrin. He rallied his dark energy, increasing it, multiplying it, and flooding his body with its strength—despite his injured shoulder. Meuric tensed, ready to use his power.

  The shadow spoke greasy words, like a conniving manipulator. “You’re a mess, Meuric. Look at your shoulder.”

  “You’re not here to talk about my shoulder. What do you want?”

  The shadow prowled closer and softened his voice. “Using your dark power will make no difference. I always know where you are. You cannot hide. You’ve wasted your efforts.”

  Meuric focused, and his power surged. He didn’t see how he’d take on the Dark Master in his physical form, but Meuric would try. He’d protect Catrin with his last breath.

  The shadow crouched and peered at Catrin around Meuric’s legs. “Look at her. So peaceful. It’s a shame, really. Have you ever seen a Daughter of Light turn to the darkness? She’s broken. Her light wanes. Once it’s gone, nothing will prevent the darkness from entering her body. How do you feel watching her deteriorate before your eyes?”

  “She can’t. Pure-blooded emrys can’t fall. You lie!” The Dark Master was, after all, the master of lies. Nothing he said could be trusted. Even so, something deflated in Meuric’s heart-center. The evidence was right before his face. Catrin was failing.

  The shadow stood. “So you do care. This will be my pleasure: for you to watch her suffer. Which would be worse, Meuric, watching her succumb to the darkness and become mine, or watching her die?”

  “You manipulated Rhianu. You used her. You’ll not touch Catrin!” Meuric screamed and released his power. Fueled by his madness, Meuric shot dark matter toward the Dark Master in a concentrated blast, targeting his heart.

  The Dark Master caught the blast and launched it back. Meuric halted the matter, midair.

  At first, equal forces collided together, the energy teetering in the center of the gap between them.

  “Did you even care about her?” Sweat dripped down Meuric’s face. “Rhianu worshipped you. She gave you every drop of her blood. Every sacrifice she made was for you and her loyalty to your foul purpose!” Meuric’s blast skittered closer to the Master as his fury intensified.

  “We shared a symbiotic relationship.” The Dark Master swelled—his silhouette grew in size. “Her thirst for domination fueled me. She enlivened my dormant spirit. You can’t imagine how her touch felt after years
of being unable to feel anything.”

  “You twisted her!” All those hours Rhianu spent underground in his chamber, honing her master’s power, warping her mind with his deceiving promises.

  “Catrin will be my finest conquest yet.”

  “You’ll… not… touch… her.” As the Dark Master’s might pressed upon him, Meuric buckled, and the blast threatened closer. Straining, muscles bulging, Meuric sank to his knees. The shadow closed in and forced the matter down on him.

  Meuric would be pulverized.

  And he would die.

  The Dark Master laughed while towering overhead. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t the least bit strained, though as foul as bile. “You could never win. This was amusing.” He dropped his hand, the energy dispersed, and Meuric pitched forward, catching himself on his good arm.

  The shadow backed away, and before he disappeared, he said in a whisper, “Catrin, my darling, I’m waiting for you.”

  And he was gone.

  Meuric steadied his breath, calming himself. If he woke Catrin in his panicked state, she’d sense it immediately. As well practiced as he was at restoring equilibrium, he was ready in a matter of minutes. Sure and stable as ever.

  He touched Catrin’s shoulder, whispering. “Catrin… Cat. Wake up.”

  She moaned and stretched. As she rolled onto her stomach, a lighted orb flew above her head. “What’re you doing up? You’re feeling better?”

  “A bit. We should hike while I still have my wits.”

  “At night? In the rain? You are feeling better. I need a moment.” Catrin pushed herself up and stumbled into the rain, with her orb trailing behind her. She returned shortly. “Ready.” She hoisted her pack over her shoulders and helped Meuric secure his over his shoulder and around his waist.

  Meuric noticed a slight tremor in her movements.

  Catrin slid her hand into his, and Meuric squeezed it. “You don’t need to warm me, Catrin. Tonight is fair enough. Conserve your energy. I’ll be fine.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. Meuric shrugged but winced when only one shoulder lifted.

  “You’re sure? Something seems different about you. Are you brighter?” she asked.

  “What? No, that’s impossible.” Meuric rubbed his hand over his hair. How could he be brighter after his encounter with the Dark Master? Catrin must be dimmer, so naturally he’d appear brighter by comparison. “You must be rubbing off on me.”

  Yawning and seeming to accept his explanation—either that, or, she was too tired to care—Catrin tugged on his hand, and they set off into the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GREATER LIGHT

  Meuric constantly looked over his shoulder, even though he knew he’d feel the Dark Master approach. His nerves were on the edge of a precipice, waiting to jump at the faintest sign of a predator.

  Catrin didn’t speak much but kept a firm grip on his hand. If she knew something was wrong, she gave no indication.

  The terrain didn’t drop significantly in elevation as they continued to skirt the edge of the Great Ridge. Progress wasn’t easy. Rocks and thick patches of undergrowth barred the way, causing them to either meander around or hack their way through. Catrin vetoed going down into the plains, which they occasionally caught sight of through the trees. The descent was too far out of the way. Catrin promised the land sank and smoothed out after they crossed the river.

  As daylight brought the forest back into color, the rain ceased.

  Coming to the edge a small cliff, they saw the end of the forest to the west and the resulting hilly lowlands covered in groves and lumpy rock formations. A few wild deer and goats munched on newly grown grass. The long line of the Great River snaked through the valley, hurrying to the sea.

  “We have to cross that?” Meuric asked. From this height, the river looked like a dragon to cross, but he’d be able to tell for sure once they moved closer.

  Catrin sidled up to Meuric and bumped his shoulder with hers. “Yes, it won’t be easy.” She pointed into the distance. “There, where the river continues to the sea, is Hyledd, the capital of Terrin. That’s where Einion rules.” She shook her head. “Well, in our time.”

  Meuric squeezed her hand.

  “I don’t even know if he’s alive. Or if anyone is alive. What happened back at the battle? What happened to Einion?”

  “He’s not the Vessel. I know that much.”

  She turned to Meuric and stared him down. “How do you know?”

  Her emerald irises danced back and forth as she studied his face.

  “He forgave Rhianu,” Meuric said. “Forgiving her freed him. The Dark Master couldn’t stay inside his body after the law was enacted.”

  Catrin closed her eyes, and Meuric visually traced the contours of her almond eyes down her scooping nose and around her pouty mouth. Her porcelain skin blotched with redness. Lines creased at the corners of her eyes. Dirt flecked her cheeks where she had rubbed them. She looked dried out, like the dead leaf that stuck out of her hair near her temple.

  Meuric reached up, pulled the leaf out, and released it.

  Catrin tilted her head away from Meuric. The leaf fluttered to her feet. “‘I forgive you.’ I remember Einion saying this.”

  “And the Dark Master left him.”

  “That was the sweep of air—the torrent that pushed us together.”

  “Yes. His essence left Einion in a maelstrom. A powerful force beyond our comprehension propelled its release and should have sucked the Dark Master’s essence back into his prison. His intrinsic nature—the attributes he willfully bestowed upon his vessels—couldn’t live outside a body. Without one, he’s bound to the Dark Master’s prison.”

  “Upon the Vessel. He had only one. Your sister. Einion would have never stayed—”

  “Easy, Catrin. I meant, whoever happened to be his vessel in the past or future. I didn’t mean—”

  “So is everyone else alive?” she asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Catrin shoved Meuric in the chest, forcing him down on a rock. She slipped his pack from his shoulder and dropped it.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m going to heal you.”

  Meuric knocked her hands off. “No, Catrin, you’re too exhausted. I don’t need it.”

  “Don’t tell me that. You’re in pain. I have to finish the process. Three more sessions, and you’ll be fine.”

  He tried to stand, but Catrin pushed him back. Meuric growled. “Why should you care?”

  “Hush.” She placed her hands on his wound and closed her eyes.

  Meuric ignored the pinching and the heat as her fingers probed him. “We should go back to the Eilian. I can heal there, and you can rest.”

  Catrin’s eyes popped open. “We agreed ether jumping was too risky. He’ll find us, and we’d endanger the village by returning.”

  At least that’s what Meuric had thought too, until his encounter. He didn’t want to tell Catrin he used his dark power—after he told her he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to tell her the Dark Master knew where they were—regardless. At this rate, if he convinced Catrin to come with him to the village, they both would profit.

  “Catrin, I think the benefits outweigh the risks.”

  “No, Meuric, I don’t want to jeopardize our friends.”

  “What about you? Look at you, Catrin! You. Are. Not. Well. Do you want to tell me what’s going on? Why are you weakening? I’m not an idiot. I know how the emrys work. You seem to forget, my mother’s Siana. She’s an emrys. This never happened when she healed people.”

  “I’m fine. I can rest between healings.”

  Meuric smacked her hand away. Catrin batted his in retaliation. He whacked hers until they had a few volleys back and forth. Finally, Meuric grabbed her wrist, twisting sharply until Catrin dropped to her knees.

  Level with his face, her eyes shimmered at him. “I’m not admitting defeat. Let me do this. It’ll be the last time. I swear. I have to resha
pe the socket, or you’ll be deformed.”

  The lava rivers of Uffern just receded. Why does she care so much? “Why did the Masters send you to me?”

  “I ask myself that every day. Now, hold still so I can think.” She shook him off.

  Meuric didn’t want to drain Catrin’s strength by arguing, and her expression told him she would heal him, and he wasn’t about to use his energy to ether jump either.

  Unrelenting, overconfident…

  She rose to her feet, and Catrin closed her eyes, yet again.

  Heat burned in his shoulder, and Meuric felt, with a sickening realization, bone shifting. He tried to focus on anything else but the pain or the scraping of bone moving and reforming.

  He glanced up at Catrin. Her pale face couldn’t possibly be any grimmer, as if death slowly descended on her. A vision of Arya and how ghastly she looked before her last breath haunted him. His blood pulsated impatiently at his neck as the Dark Master’s words echoed back at him. Which would be worse, Meuric, watching her succumb to the darkness and become mine, or watching her die?

  Meuric couldn’t sit idly any longer. Come on, Catrin. Stop. Catrin’s eyelids fluttered, and Meuric yelled, “Enough!” at the same time that Catrin collapsed against him. Her body slid onto his knees and, thankfully, she flopped against his uninjured shoulder. When would she learn? When would he learn? Meuric, you fool.

  He hugged her body to his and leaned his forehead against hers, silently expressing gratitude for her and wishing he could somehow repay her. He dropped to one knee and curled her down. Meuric shifted one bedroll under her head and laid the other one over her body, tucking it carefully under her.

  On impulse, he kissed her forehead.

  She’d never know.

  With each healing, he became stronger. He didn’t feel tired, thanks to Catrin’s selfless efforts.