by Lisa Rector
“I take it you don’t want to kiss me.” She had entwined her arms around his neck and whispered. “The other day after the river… you left me.”
“No, that’s not why. I can’t kiss you.”
“Why not?” Catrin stopped swaying with him.
Meuric touched her chin and spoke with all the tenderness he felt for her. “I won’t kiss you until I know you’re over Einion.”
Catrin’s eyes widened, but she calmly spoke, more like a child whose feelings had been hurt. “How do you know I’m not?”
“I know, Catrin. I know. I watch you every day. I see you, and I feel you.” His palm rolled over her heart. “You lose light every day, though I’m trying my best to recover it.”
“Am I a project for you?”
“No, you’re my salvation. You’ve saved me more times than I can count. I’m returning the favor. Let’s just say you’ve grown on me.”
Catrin softened in his arms. “You said you’d grow on me.”
“Haven’t I?”
She waited while Meuric tensed. He squeezed her in encouragement.
“You know you have.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SON OF DARKNESS
The land sloped downward as they entered the lower gap of the Great Ridge the following day. The gap was more of a dip in the range, unlike the narrow, jagged cut they passed through in the north. The forest extended seamlessly into the pass with leaning pines and leafing trees branching over a smooth, dirt floor. Meuric couldn’t remember ever seeing a springtime like this. Morvith didn’t bud with life. His volcanic home didn’t change much at all.
The closeness of the settlement was a real threat, so Meuric and Catrin watched their steps and broke no twig, leaving no trace. Catrin used her power and raised the soil behind them to hide their footfalls.
Since Meuric wasn’t supposed to use his dark power, Catrin coached him in using his light, presumably in the event he had to defend himself. She still didn’t know about his nighttime visit from the Dark Master, and he hoped to keep it that way. Attacking the Dark Master and breaking his word to Catrin was instinctual and foolish, done in hysteria. Stupid. He knew his skills were no match against such evil.
“You know, Meuric,” Catrin said, “You don’t seem as evil as I thought.”
“Really?” He could find no way around the evil that was so much a part of him. Catrin was too forgiving.
She sidestepped a bush to avoid damaging the branches.
Meuric frowned. This conversation wasn’t heading in a good direction. “I guess you don’t really know me. I haven’t told you much about myself.”
“I do know you, Meuric. I know what makes you tick, know what makes you cry in the night, and I’ve seen into your nightmares.”
“That doesn’t mean you know me.”
“Fine, I know about you, but these experiences together are changing us. I don’t think we’ll ever be the same. You’ll never be as evil as you once were.”
Her words were true. He’d never be the man he once was either.
Meuric balanced on a rock with one foot. He had lived for ages and killed many people. He had watched suffering and done nothing to stop it, thinking he was serving the best master with the most advantage. Power was important—until Rhianu had been punished.
“Catrin, I’m not a good person. I’ve killed people. I’ve used my power to destroy lives. I still have dreams at night. Not just about Mara and Arya, but I see the faces of those I’ve killed. I relive battles.”
She turned to him and read his face, and by the stars, he wanted to kiss her.
“That shows you have a conscience,” she said. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t see them. You wouldn’t feel such guilt.”
Meuric moved past Catrin, forcibly tearing his eyes away from hers. “Do you trust the Master of Light? You’ve followed him your whole life, and now we’re stuck here. Don’t you think he had something to do with this?”
“I remember what you said, that this is a game. I’m not sure. This happened to us for a reason,” Catrin said.
Meuric was surprised to hear Catrin say this. The beliefs of the Eilian or the ramblings of the accursed tegyd must have rubbed off on her.
“I don’t serve either of them anymore, Catrin. After the Dark Master punished Rhianu, I forsook him from that moment.” Meuric stopped. He had to tell her about his role in Einion’s attempt at becoming the Vessel. If he cared about her and was falling in love with her, he couldn’t withhold the truth any longer.
Catrin grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong, Meuric?”
He hesitated, knowing that what he was going to say would change everything between them. His confession would shatter the trust he had built with his so-called enemy. Only after sinking into the vibrant, green pools of Catrin’s eyes and hoping their trust was secure enough, did he steel himself for the worst. “I let him take it.”
“Who? Take what?”
“The opportunity to free Rhianu arose, so I seized it. I would’ve done anything. Einion was just the tool to take the Dark Master’s power from her. I could have stopped him. I was supposed to stop him. I knew what it’d do to him, but I took the chance. Siana was sure we could save him.”
Catrin’s hand uncurled from Meuric’s, and she dropped it unceremoniously. When she backed away, Meuric’s hope plummeted. Her eyes moistened and her lips trembled. Here the trust would break. He should tell her about the Dark Master trailing them. Then their ties, any bond that had been forming between them, would be severed. He already knew she’d hate him. He deserved it.
Meuric had to be honest with her. He couldn’t bear watching her frail light peter out over her inner turmoil. For Catrin to heal, she’d have to understand why he told her this, why he did what he did, and she’d have to somehow move past it. Though he didn’t know if she could or would forgive him.
Her face showed the emotions as she worked through them. Anger, betrayal, distrust, and pain. The worst was the distrust. Her trust bled as freely as her light. How would he repair this?
“Einion might be dead!” Catrin lashed out. “You’ve been lying this entire time. Gaining my trust.” A tear slid down her cheek. “You made me care about you.”
“Catrin.” Meuric lurched forward, but she continued to retreat. “I didn’t tell you because you needed me. I knew you wouldn’t let me come with you to Gorlassar if you knew the truth. How could you have done this on your own? Plus, we wanted to help the Eilian.”
Her voice erupted. “Why would you even care about the Eilian, Meuric? You didn’t care about Einion. You were so willing to sacrifice him because you’re a coward! You’re a deceiver. You’re evil. How could I’ve been so wrong?”
“That’s simply not true.” His voice rose to yell over hers.
“Why didn’t you take the power for yourself?”
“I didn’t want it! I didn’t want to serve the Dark Master anymore. Einion had greater light inside—he’d be able to fight the Dark Master’s control—whereas, I’d be under his complete power.” His heart sank, knowing he was a coward.
Catrin tore through his guilt. “You are right. You’re not a good person, Meuric, Son of Darkness. How dare you?”
She turned halfway, but Meuric grabbed her elbow and pulled her to himself. “Listen, please. You have to understand—”
Catrin fought against his grip. “You have plenty of darkness in that black heart of yours to take yourself home. No matter how much light you build, you’ll always be evil.”
She twisted her body to escape his grasp, her efforts matching the anguish on her face. “Maybe you should leave. I release you from your promise.”
“I’m not leaving you. Hear me out.” He’d never abandon her. Why couldn’t she understand that?
“No! Let me go!”
Meuric’s hands grew blistering hot where he touched her. A sudden flash blinded him, throwing him onto his lame shoulder.
Cursing, he rubbed his eyes. As his vision
focused, Catrin clawed to her feet and ran into the woods.
Meuric groaned and dropped his head, not bothering to inspect his hands. She had burned him, again. His mind drifted briefly to the day in Dewydd’s hut when she had healed him. Catrin had been a vision. As she restored his injury, she’d gone into a sacred part of herself, and he had seen it. That was the first time he caught a glimpse into her soul. Now look what I’ve done.
He’d rather his hands blister up and fall off than ever see that destroyed look in her face and on her soul.
She had called him Son of Darkness. The title hurt, but it was accurate. She was right. Despite his recent efforts, he was still more darkness than light. He had built up his so-called majesty and glory with the light for what purpose? He shouldn’t lie to himself. His darkness was who he was.
Wearily rising to his feet, Meuric pinched the bridge of his nose before glancing at his bubbled palms. He might have enough light to heal himself, but it’d take time.
Meuric didn’t bother running after Catrin. He’d give her a few minutes or a few hours to cool down. After all, he could find her instantly, even if she scolded him for using his power. The separation would give her time to sort through her emotions.
He trudged forward, and a familiar cold descended around him. His breath crystalized in the air. Not now. Not while Catrin’s missing. Not while she was vulnerable. Even so, Meuric was grateful Catrin wasn’t there to see him.
A man stepped from behind a tree, silhouetted against the sky. The black features of his face couldn’t be made out, even in the daylight.
“Why can’t I see your face? What are you hiding?” Meuric asked.
“I hide nothing. You’re not mine, so you can’t gaze upon my countenance.”
Meuric scoffed but wondered if Rhianu had ever seen the Dark Master’s face.
“Very noble of you to tell Catrin how you destroyed Einion. Do you think she’ll ever heal from that wound?” the Dark Master spat.
“I wouldn’t have told her if I didn’t think she could.”
The Dark Master casually paced before turning his faceless gaze on Meuric. “You destroyed every meaningful connection between you. I was growing quite fond of your budding relationship. Pure and innocent.” He paused. “And full of lies. She’ll never look at you the same again. She loathes you. She wishes for your very death.”
Meuric clenched his jaw. “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. Deceiver. Every word that slides out of your mouth is a falsehood. You don’t have the power of discernment. You couldn’t possibly know how Catrin feels.”
The shadow trembled, and his voice rose. “Oh, don’t I, Meuric? Well, judge this for yourself—if this is a lie. I’ll find her before you do. Hide and seek, Meuric. Can you get to your beloved Catrin first?”
Catrin! Meuric pulled his energy into himself and thought of her. As he shoved himself to her through the ether, horrible, evil laughter filled his ears.
“You won’t find her, Meuric.”
He should be to her—now. The light should break, and he should see Catrin. Instead, his eyes fell upon an exquisite dark-haired, chocolate-skinned woman, whose stomach was rounded with child.
Meuric blinked, and shock ran through his body.
The woman sashayed over to Meuric. Despite her blossoming belly, she was elegant and wispy. Her dress hung seductively off one shoulder, and Meuric stared at her becoming clavicle.
“Welcome home, my love. I didn’t expect you this early. I assume you won the battle. You never lose. Let me look at you?” She touched his hands, and Meuric recoiled.
“What happened to your hands? Why didn’t you have a healer mend you?”
Meuric glanced down, faintly noticing the fluid-filled circles on his palms.
“I’ll have you sorted in a minute, darling. But first…” She regarded him quizzically. “I know two months have passed. You didn’t think I’d be this huge, did you? That sister of yours, having you campaign for weeks.” She shook her head. “Never mind. You’re just in time. The babe is due any day.” She reached up and kissed him full on the mouth.
Out of habit, out of longing, Meuric met her—tenderly. His fingers ran through her silken hair flowing long and free down her back, and to her stomach, where he crouched and pressed his mouth as he stroked and crooned to the babe inside. His child. The light of the half-emrys burned in her womb.
Meuric stood. This wasn’t right. “Mara, what am I doing here?”
PART II
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CREATOR
Twigs snapped, and branches broke. Catrin ran carelessly, which was dangerous. She was angry—brokenhearted. She thought for sure Meuric would have found her by now. That he’d appear and grab her and force her to listen to him.
He didn’t.
She ran for half an hour before she stopped to catch her breath. Catrin let the tears come. She crouched over her thighs, gripping them as her chest spasmed with her sobs.
Tears drenched her cheeks, and massive drops splashed off dead leaves. She cried harder than she did that first day on the boat. The memory and grief over her predicament was still strong in her mind. What did she grieve for now? Einion’s lost love or the fact that Meuric had concealed the truth from her. How could Meuric let Einion take Cysgod’s power after seeing what it had done to Rhianu?
He’s despicable. He’s a murderer.
Catrin crumbled, stabbed her fingers into the earth, and screamed. She’d been holding every anguish in, keeping herself together for too long. The dragon’s egg had cracked.
Meuric didn’t know me then. He wasn’t the man he’s become now. He would’ve never done this if he’d known me.
Catrin clutched her head and squeezed it. He did do it. It’s who he is. A sob racked her. I can’t deal with this! I want to go home.
She had betrayed them: her mother and father, her brothers, Cerys, and most of all Einion. She’d been disloyal to them, caught up in the snare of a Son of Darkness, caught up in feelings for him. She had wanted to kiss him. He had spoken pleasing words to her, and she’d been helping him and healing him from day one.
Your feelings reveal the path you must take, a voice whispered.
Catrin gasped. Who are you? The voice in her head was not one she was familiar with. Not her dragon, not Einion’s dragon, and certainly not her mother’s voice. This voice was clear and formidable.
A master. A creator.
Not the Creator. You can’t be the Master of Light, Catrin said.
I have not said I am. But I have your interest at heart, Catrin. I feel your pain. I want you to find Gorlassar so you can go home.
I don’t even know if finding Gorlassar will bring me home. I don’t have the key to that power. Meuric does.
Where is Meuric? He promised never to leave you, and here you are, alone.
Catrin lifted her head and peeked around. I left him. She saw no one. The source of the voice couldn’t be found.
I see. Well, my dear lonely heart, I’ll tell you the truth. You don’t need him to return home. You have the power in yourself.
Catrin’s heart skipped. How’s that possible? Meuric told me I’d have to use the dark power, which is impossible for me, a Daughter of Light.
The voice grew louder in reply. That. Is. A. Lie. Why must I always correct all the lies? Whoever said an emrys couldn’t use the dark power?
I don’t know. I’d never use it. How could I even consider…? I would never forsake my master! Catrin felt so cold. She didn’t like the cold.
Then you’ll stay here. In this time.
The cold relented, and Catrin knew she was alone.
What was she to do? Deian, help me.
***
Days passed, and Catrin made it through the mountain’s gap on her own. Meuric didn’t come. He had left her after promising not to.
His words haunted her. Catrin, I swear to you; I will not leave your sight, if that is your wish. I give you my word. I never break an oath. Up
on my honor, I will do this for you, even if you desire my death and think I’m a loathsome scoundrel.
But she had left his sight, run from him in fact. Yet he always found her. Where are you, Meuric?
The highlands she entered were similar to what she remembered, some of the most pleasing lands to look at—other than home. Green hills, fields of spring wildflowers, and gray and white rocks surrounded by tufts of grass and covered with lichens. The fresh air was crisp, not as humid as in the lowlands.
A small settlement loomed ahead, surrounded by a tall, splintered fence. Smoke drifted lazily from stone chimneys. Catrin skirted the outlying farms and watched as men turned the soil and women dropped seeds behind them. They seemed civil—a far cry from the savages. She wondered if the villagers had many skirmishes with them.
Catrin considered approaching a few people in the field. She could use fresh food. Meuric left her with no way to go back to the Eilian, and she’d run out of provisions and was living off animals she caught and cooked. A tasty potato or carrot might brighten her day.
She scanned her dirt-covered hands. It had been days since she’d come across a source of water. Parched and dusty, Catrin smoothed her hair and crept from the shade into the field.
A middle-aged woman, with tired blue eyes and brown hair sticking out from a white cap, saw her immediately. Grabbing a shovel, she lifted it defensively.
Catrin raised her empty hands.
“Mercher.” The woman didn’t take her eyes off Catrin.
Pausing from his labor, an older, wrinkled man with a sagging chin glanced up. He had dirt smudged on his chin.
“Allo.” He lifted his forked spade. “Where’d you come from, gurl.”
