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

by Lisa Rector

  Catrin’s last valiant effort.

  She had curled into a ball over her knees. Meuric pried her upright. Her sweat-soaked face was washed of color. She was practically a corpse.

  “Can you hear him? Is he gone?” Her connection should be severed if the seal was done properly.

  Catrin nodded with agonizing slowness. Meuric squeezed her in a bone-crushing hug. “We’ll be safe, and Blodeuyn too.”

  ***

  Hours passed. The tremors continued. If Meuric pressed his ear to the rock, he heard the groaning of the earth and the roar of carnage on the outside. He knew when the Dark Master moved outside the cave because Efa fought. Her roars cut through Meuric just as Mara’s cries had.

  Efa’s death was quick.

  Meuric knew the instant she fell. One strangled breath silenced forever.

  Holding Catrin steady, Meuric huddled in the back of the cave with his legs folded around her as the ground heaved. He had clamped his hands over Catrin’s mouth, but she whimpered anyway as the rumbling stretched on.

  Meuric felt like a curdling jug of milk, soured from centuries as a servant of evil. More beings, valiant creatures made by the Creator, were dying because of his choices. Not just fragile humans by his hands, but dragons who shouldn’t have perished in the first place. Every choice he’d made had led him to this point. The battle outside was the culmination of all his deeds. Meuric’s evil, finally facing off to his emerging goodness. If they saved the egg, if good triumphed, maybe Meuric could face his failures. Maybe he could be a righteous man.

  Would that he could for Catrin.

  Even for his sister. This had all started because he was supposed to save Rhianu.

  Would even saving her and Catrin and the few dragons who had left Gorlassar be enough to save him?

  Rocks broke away from the ceiling, but the seal they made prevented the cave from crumbling. The vibrations in the walls and the floor pounded Meuric’s body with tension.

  Save them, even if you don’t save me.

  Though Meuric was a tumult of churning emotion, Catrin was numb. Her emotions—nonexistent, as if she were dead. As if she were dying along with the dragons. Meuric squeezed Catrin tighter, feeling enough fear for both of them.

  “I’m with you, Cat,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you.” Those words felt hopeless. If the Dark Master broke through, Meuric would fight to his last breath. Catrin was everything he fought for. The one thing, in this moment, that still braced him.

  He pictured the Dark Master searching the valley with unmatched fury, seeking Catrin as he destroyed the remaining dragons—until the Master of Light battled him. They’d war as no mortal could, covering the beauty of Gorlassar in carnage as bodies fell and trees and wildlife burned. Eventually Deian would prevail and entomb Cysgod in his eternal prison under the mountain Uffern. Completing this historic affair, Deian would raise the desert and scorch the ocean to prevent passage into Morvith from these lands.

  With every shake, Meuric’s heart-center quivered. He hoped they’d remain hidden. The seal had to work.

  We will be safe.

  They had to be. An inkling of doubt worried Meuric. What if I got this all wrong? What if we aren’t the ones to save the egg?

  The quakes became fewer and farther apart. Since Catrin was silent once Cysgod passed, Meuric let her go after she promised she’d remain quiet. She curled around the egg, stroking the shell.

  Time moved grievously slow. A day might have passed, but Meuric didn’t dare leave as long as the earth still groaned. He killed one rabbit and cooked it with his light, feeding Catrin like a child, sticking bite-sized pieces into her mouth and constantly encouraging her to chew. When he held a waterskin to her mouth, most of the water dribbled down her chin.

  She’s not dying. This is not happening. Meuric wiped her face with his cloak. Catrin stared blankly ahead, nothing but a hollow shell.

  Meuric regretted having to use her light to create the barrier. Her condition had worsened from a shaking leaf into this comatose infant. He spent most of his waking hours building his light and passing it into Catrin’s body. He sang the few songs he knew and told tales of his life—happy ones, especially ones with his daughter.

  Despite the light he gave her, Catrin wasn’t eating and drinking enough. She had stopped running her fingers over the egg, and she slumped under the weight of her guilt, deteriorating as her light grappled to sustain her body. A warning flashed through Meuric. This was just like Mara. Her heart-center is hollow. I give her my light, and it seeps away. She doesn’t desire to heal or else my light would remain and console her spirit. I cannot free her from this anguish. My pleas fall on a broken heart so cracked no light can cement the fragments together. His mother’s words, coming true again.

  “You are not dying. You are not Mara!” He stuck a piece of meat in her mouth.

  It hung slack open.

  “Come on, Catrin. Eat!” Meuric towered above her as he yelled. An aftershock threw him off balance, and he wobbled. His anxiety echoed the war outside. “I can’t keep you alive on my own. You need to make some effort!”

  The meat fell from her mouth. Meuric picked up a rock and threw it with such force against the wall it shattered in pieces, flying back at them. Meuric screamed and dropped to his knees. “Catrin, don’t do this! Can’t you see I need you? If I lose you, there’ll be no purpose to any of this.” Meuric remembered the day on the boat when Catrin almost grabbed his last bite of fish.

  What he wouldn’t give for her to want his food, to want to eat.

  Catrin moved her mouth, and a whimper came out.

  “What?” Meuric asked. This was the first sentence she’d said in days.

  “I did this,” she whispered. “They’re dead because of me.” Catrin was slouching, with her hands in her lap, her head drooped, and her legs folded under her.

  “No, Catrin. It’s not your fault. It’s his. Stop blaming yourself and eat, woman. The rumbling has grown faint. We can leave soon, and we can go home. Don’t you want to go home?”

  Catrin lifted her head. “You don’t know how to take us home. Don’t lie and say you do.”

  “I’m not lying. I’ll figure out how. We came here together, and we’ll leave together. I know that’s how it happens. Just like with the cave’s seal, returning will require both of us. But how can I take you home if you’re…?”

  “If what?” she asked.

  “Nothing, Catrin. It won’t come to that.” He hoped. Catrin wasn’t mortal like Mara, but they shared the same stages of starvation. Catrin’s death might be more drawn out and agonizing because she was an emrys. Her light would force her to hold on for as long as possible, far past the point a mortal could survive. She’d become a walking skeleton. Stars in the heavens! That won’t happen. “You have to have a reason to keep going. If you can’t live for yourself, live for me. Live for Blodeuyn. Don’t give up.”

  Meuric snuggled around Catrin after she’d fallen asleep. He didn’t know whether it was day or night, but he soon fell asleep with the dim light glowing around them and the egg safely nestled in her rocky nest.

  ***

  A violent shaking woke Meuric. Stone by stone, the outside entrance tumbled away. Meuric jumped to his feet and tensed, waiting. They’d been found out. After they had been secluded in safety for days, this was the end. Cysgod would take Catrin and corrupt her beyond recognition.

  Light blinded Meuric, and he held his hands over his eyes. Preparing for the worst and knowing his powers would do nothing to save them against the wrath of a creator, Meuric squared his shoulders. He’d meet Cysgod with no fear. As his eyes gradually became accustomed to the light and the last rocks fell away, Meuric saw him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  REBIRTH

  The man wasn’t masked in shadow like the Dark Master. He glowed slightly with an astounding inner radiance, different from any emrys Meuric had ever encountered. Light brown hair hung to his chin in soft waves, framing a face cover
ed in a close-cropped beard. His eyes swirled with flecks of green and brown.

  Meuric noticed kind edges in the man’s face, smoothed over by love and concern.

  This was clearly not the Dark Master.

  A glistening, white linen shirt and pants hung loosely on the man’s trim figure, and bare feet landed in silence.

  Meuric couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew this man. Though having never met him, the man’s countenance revealed who he was.

  Unafraid, Meuric strode toward him. Incapable of suppressing his hostility, he growled, “You.”

  “Meuric, my son.” The interloper held his arms out. “It’s over. You’ve done well.” He spoke softly—patiently.

  His tone provoked Meuric even more.

  He stormed over to the man and met his benevolent eyes. “I’ve done well? In this game of yours? Was it you? Did you send us here? Or was it your brother? The Dark Master. He’s been following us!”

  Meuric whipped around to face Catrin and pointed at her curled around the egg. “Look at her! Look what you’ve done! The Master of Light. What has your light done for her?”

  Deian touched Meuric’s shoulder. His arm tingled, and his heart-center warmed as he felt love.

  Meuric rolled his shoulder back.

  “I know this is hard for you to understand.” Deian’s eyes twinkled. “Look within yourself. You’ve changed. You’ve become who you were meant to be. You and Catrin have been on this course for a purpose. Every trial you’ve faced, you’ve met head on and have overcome. You’ve learned to love again. You said so yourself.”

  Shameful tears sprang from Meuric’s eyes. He might have a hard exterior, but he knew the words Deian spoke were true. “What about the dragons? What about Catrin?”

  “Meuric, dear Meuric. The dragons are my own. I haven’t lost a single one. Having fulfilled the measure of their creation, they’ve been welcomed home. Of Catrin, your mission is not yet done. You must save her. It’s up to you.”

  “Up to me? Are you going to tell me how to do this?” Disappointment overwhelmed Meuric. He’d been let down too many times. He and death had become close friends, and sorrow continued to twist his heart as he thought about his losses.

  One life had been saved. “Yasbail. Why now? Why was she allowed to live this time?”

  The Master placed both hands on Meuric’s shoulders. They drooped with exhaustion. He didn’t realize how much tension he carried, for Catrin and for everything.

  “My son, you had to believe in yourself. In the past, you chose to use darkness. The dark power in all its might couldn’t save your daughter. When faced with her death again, you chose faith in the light. You believed you could change her fate, and you did. Just as you believe you can save Catrin.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t heal her. You can heal her.” Meuric pleaded with his eyes.

  “I can heal her, but she needs you, Meuric. Her faith has been shaken. She must find her faith. I could heal her physical form, but she’d continue to carry her emotional burden.”

  Meuric broke away from the intimate hold and paced as he worked through the logic. “So she must suffer near death to grow emotionally? Do you see why I’m vexed?”

  “Catrin’s whole life has been one of surety and constancy. She would have lived forever, untouched in her realm of purity, but not progressing spiritually. Intellectually, Catrin can develop only so far. Her spirit needed to be challenged. As her spirit recovers and grows, her mind will open to new facets of knowledge. Catrin will evolve grace by grace.”

  “So perfection is worth the heartache. It sounds as though you’re grooming Catrin for something.” Meuric froze. His own words shocked him. The Master of Light was doing the same to him. Meuric shook his head. “I guess that’s why you’re all-knowing.”

  Deian held his hand out, and a bee landed on his palm. While he talked to Meuric, it seemed as though Deian was bonding with the insect. He studied the bee with such an intensity that Meuric knew something beyond his comprehension was going on. “Once the wheels were set in motion, once the first emrys left Gorlassar, the catalyst had been ignited. The emrys had opportunity to explore the mortal world and its possibilities. Her journey became the inciting incident for Catrin, the pressure that crushes coal until it becomes a diamond. When Catrin rises above this, she’ll be stronger.”

  “This is your plan then.”

  Deian’s cheeks rounded as the bee hummed away. “Yes, there’s a plan. You all have a plan. You all have a purpose. Catrin could have stayed in Gorlassar, but a life of arts and literature would have become meaningless for her.”

  “So you believe I can help her. Is that my purpose?”

  “You love her, do you not?”

  Meuric met Deian’s gaze. “Of course I love her.”

  Deian smiled. “Being a half-emrys brings its own trials. Once you chose darkness, you arrived at a crossroads and selected your path without fear for the consequences. Without guilt or remorse.”

  “I’ve always felt the result of my choices.”

  “Have you?”

  Why bother lying? At one time, Meuric followed Rhianu without question—until Arya and Mara died. His world changed. That had been his catalyst. He wanted a better life. This accursed adventure in this forsaken past forced him to be a better person. He was more of an Emrys of Light than he was a Dark Emrys.

  Meuric turned his attention back to Catrin. Her blonde hair coiled on the dirty cave floor. Everything he did was for her. His light grew because of her. He had to find a way home for her.

  “You’re right to worry for Catrin,” Deian said. “Never have emrys realized they could lose their light. The danger is certain. From the moment they first left Gorlassar, it became a possibility.”

  “The risks are great in a world of darkness, so the propensity for growth would have to outweigh the stagnation in a world of safety and light. Did my mother know this? Siana never had a problem. She’s never lost her light.”

  “She struggled for a time, Meuric. Her children give her a reason to hold on to the light.”

  “So what makes Catrin different? Why is her light fading rapidly?”

  “She faced a trial that was difficult for her to bear. It severely damaged her, and a seed of doubt entered her heart.”

  “She still has a trial to overcome. She told me she’s broken. I told her she needs to forgive.”

  “You would be right.”

  Catrin stirred, and Deian moved over to Catrin.

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked innocent and tired with her golden hair framing her face in a messy halo.

  Meuric frowned. She was too thin, and her wrist bones stuck out grotesquely when she swiped her hair out of her eyes.

  Deian knelt beside Catrin. Understanding lit her face as Meuric watched from behind the Master. He lifted Catrin’s chin as tears leapt from her eyes and splashed onto her lap.

  “I’m so sorry.” She enunciated each word. “I shouldn’t have torn the rift open. The dragons are dead because of me.” Her lips trembled, and her nose reddened.

  Deian wiped her tears away. “Now, child, do not cry. You are loved. I love you. I don’t condemn you. Lift your spirits. I’ve never left you.”

  “But it’s my fault! Will you ever forgive me?”

  “I always forgive as long as forgiveness is sought.”

  “I should have had more faith. I should have trusted that everything would work out. Why did I accept Cysgod’s help?” Catrin cried.

  “You were afraid. Fear made you act in desperation. Build on your foundation of faith. It will always steer you right.”

  Catrin dropped her head into the Master’s lap and sobbed. Her shoulder blades jutted out crudely. Deian rubbed her back while brushing her hair with his hands. Turning his head to the side, he gestured for Meuric to come closer.

  Meuric crouched beside the pair. As Deian lifted Catrin’s head, he said, “It’s time you told Meuric what Beli said to you.”


  Catrin hiccoughed, and Meuric clenched his jaw at the mention of Beli. Catrin actually looked at Meuric for the first time in days. His heart dropped when her tears welled up and clung to her lower eyelashes, waiting to fall. Unsure, Catrin peered at Deian, and he nodded with encouragement.

  She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “‘The melding of your hearts is the key to bringing you home.’”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Meuric asked. “I’m sure you know how fond I am of Beli’s riddles.”

  The Master smiled, and his eyes glimmered. “You can figure it out.” He lifted Catrin off his lap and turned her into Meuric’s arms. “Take her to Delyth. It’s time for Meinwen and Ithel to be created.”

  “Can I see her?” Catrin asked.

  “You cannot, dear child. Meinwen will be created as a grown woman but will be like a child. She’ll need time to mature, and seeing you would confuse her. She and Ithel will learn together as they start their new life.”

  Catrin grabbed Meuric’s arm, and he leaned in until his forehead touched her cheek. “Come, Catrin,” he whispered in her ear.

  Meuric pulled her to her feet.

  Deian rose with them. As they headed toward the cave’s entrance, Catrin caught her toe on a rock and lurched forward. Meuric caught her and swung her up into his arms. Touching Meuric’s forearm, Deian locked eyes with him. Once again, love and strength flowed through Meuric.

  The future didn’t seem as difficult. Whatever he and Catrin faced, they’d take it in stride. He hoisted her higher in his arms. “Two jumps, Catrin. One to the entrance and one from the outside. Brace yourself.”

  Pressure increased in Meuric’s head, and his vision dimmed. Catrin’s grip intensified. When his sight cleared, Meuric stood with Catrin at the realm’s invisible gate, the same spot where he’d first seen Urbgen.

  He set Catrin down, and they gazed over the valley. Meuric expected vast changes. He expected the landscape to be charred or torn in jagged lines from the violent shaking of the land. Where were the heaps of dragon bodies smoking and smelling of decay?