“You’ll bring Gowthaman here, along with his research. We need his expertise.”
“Did you send a message?”
Jayse gave her a rueful smile. “As always, he respectfully declined, saying he’d send pertinent materials to us. I want him here, Bree. Even if you have to carry him.”
“Understood. I’ll leave now and—”
“Wait, Bree,” Lucidea said. “There’s more. We think this time might be... no, this will be the time we find Morghan and bring him home to us. There’s another part in the equation this time. There’s... there’s this.”
At Lucidea’s nod, Coralie rose and carefully lifted the square of tartan from the table. The dark, empty eye sockets of a fleshless skull stared toward Breanna. “What’s this?”
At Coralie’s uplifted eyebrow, Bree waggled her hand toward the table. “A skull. I know that. But whose? Where?”
Jayse took up the telling again. “This was found near the spot Morghan discovered his brother’s skull. We didn’t find any other parts of a skeleton.”
Calling on her analytical skills, Bree leaned forward to study the bones. “Coincidence?”
“Hardly,” Jayse said. “The location is in a remote part of the property and the surrounding rocks and ledges are difficult to navigate. So it wasn’t an accidental fall. And all we found was the skull.”
“Who found it?”
“Coralie.”
Breanna turned to Coralie who gave a one shouldered shrug. “I was out walkin’ an’ for some reason I walked a different path. I ken ’tis strange, but I ken now ’twas where I was supposed to be. ’Twas for me to discover.”
“Any idea—”
“Oh, aye. We ken who ’tis.” Coralie made a face so filled with disgust, Bree smiled despite the growing unease in her belly. “’Tis Pagas.”
Bree jerked her gaze to Lucidea. “The high chancellor you beheaded? Are you sure? How?”
Nodding, Lucidea angled the skull to point at an odd configuration of the bones. “See these? The openings for Sindhu breathers. And this...” She placed a heavy ring next to the skull. “This is Pagas’ ring. Before you ask like a thorough investigator, yes, I’m sure. This ring designates his position within the palace and if you look inside you’ll see the faint markings of his family crest etched on the back of the stone. It’s his. I’d never seen him without it. The ring... was inside the skull. And, I took measurements and drew the face supported by the skull. It’s Pagas.”
To Bree’s relief, Coralie covered the stark bones. “After Lucidea delivered punishment, as was her right, Pagas was no’ taken to the Great Sea. Instead his disgrace was unceremoniously tossed into the deepest rift in our world. None should have found his remains.”
“No one would,” Lucidea agreed. “I’m just taking a guess here, but from the condition of the bones, I’d say they’ve been out of water about a year.” She glanced at Lachlan’s bust and her voice broke. “The same time period as... like Daddy.”
Silence surrounded the table while Jayse comforted his wife. Bree’s mind whirled with the possibilities. The similarities between the two incidents were far too precise to be coincidental. If the events of twenty years ago opened a passage from the world between worlds, then this—find—might help them do the same. “But, Pagas died nearly twenty years ago, would it still count as a sacrifice?”
Jayse cleared his throat. “We have no idea how the skull was returned, or why. Unless we consider the timing. Then, yes. I would say this is our sacrifice. We’ll understand the truth of this discovery soon.”
Rising, Bree straightened her spine. “The truth of now is that opening the veil into the world between worlds is highly probable as long as this coming blue moon is confirmed by other calendars. Gowthaman will know if it is. And he’ll help discover ways to support the spells Morghan used before, so we can rescue him.”
“Very succinct.” Jayse smiled wearily. “Our thoughts exactly.”
“I’m on my way. I’ll have Gowthaman here by this afternoon.” She gave Jayse a wink. “Even if I have to knock him over the head to do it.”
Three
Breanna stood before Gowthaman and solemnly voiced Jayse’s command. Before she began her own arguments, Gowthaman stood, his slow smile halting anything she might have said.
“Yes, I will come. I, too, believe this may be the propitious time. I am glad you have given me a little time before we must leave. I would like to show you what I have been working on. I have developed theories which may be of benefit.”
“And you want to practice them on me?”
Again he smiled that slow smile, one that delighted her to the tips of her toes. “Perhaps.”
She pulled out a chair to keep from reaching for him but stopped when he shook his head. “Please come with me.” Bree nodded and followed him across the workroom into a smaller alcove.
He’d covered the wall with a huge sheet of paper and begun a drawing in the center of the page. Breanna studied the arrangement of circles then faced him and shrugged. “I don’t understand this.”
She sensed his hesitation to move closer so she eased back a step. While she expected relief, the flash of regret in his eyes startled her. But he turned toward his drawing before she had a chance to analyze what she thought she’d seen.
He touched the large center circle with a long, square-tipped finger. “This is the human world, as we know it at this point.” His hand slid over the circle and Bree shivered. He moved to indicate a neighboring circle. “And this is our Faerie Otherworld. The other circles represent the worlds we’ve identified. Korin’s fairy kingdom, Bard’s world, the conjoined worlds of the Alfar, a few others.”
“I would have expected the all worlds to touch at some point. It’s so easy to pass from the human world to Faerie.”
His lip tightened and a flat, haunted expression filled his eyes. Realizing what she’d said, and the implications for him, she bit at her lower lip. As a child she’d known how he, and others, felt when she’d witnessed their aura. She realized as a teenager purposefully sensing auras was an invasion of privacy. So she’d trained herself to not see unless she made a conscious effort. Especially with Gowthaman’s sensitivity to anything barely hinting at an invasion of his personal space or his mind.
Yet, without flipping her mental switch on, she saw his golden aura flare around him. Immediately the brightness dulled to a dim reflection tinged with brown.
“I’m—”
“Do not say anything, Breanna.”
“But...”
“Please.” His deep, nearly black eyes glistened and she ached to touch him. Even if he wouldn’t allow her to heal him, touching him would ease her discomfort. More than he realized, she did understand the depths of his agony.
As a child, she had only known that he hurt. She’d taken hurts from him and others and in innocence had diffused the pains without effort. But as she’d gotten older it had become difficult to simply let go. Now, except for common physical wounds or illness, she needed time alone afterward. An agonizing time to shove the remnants of pain from herself, then find and return to her own centered calm.
Because she had no idea how her process worked, she’d never told another how she affected healing. Nor would she ever let anyone see the straining release of those hurts she took into herself. Ever. Once it was understood the way healing affected her, no one would ask her help again. She would not allow her talent to waste away, no matter the occasional cost to her.
Gowthaman took a deep breath and stated in a flat voice, “The world between worlds.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I believe if worlds that are separate now actually touched another world, grand chaos would erupt. The worlds might be totally destroyed. Perhaps the worlds would merge or one world would overtake the other. Timelines could be skewed. There are innumerable possibilities. This...” He swept his hand over the blank space between the circles. “This distance acts as a cushion to protect the
worlds from colliding, keeping each world separate, yet accessible.”
“But, when we pass from Faerie to the human world, there is no hint of an empty space. There’s got to be a direct connection.”
Staring at the wall, he spread his hands. “This I do not yet know,” he said and turned back to the worktable.
Breanna stood a few moments longer staring at the chart. Each world was labeled in Gowthaman’s precise calligraphy. Squinting, she imagined lines connecting the worlds. She only knew of two others who had spent time in the world between worlds. Bard had been sent there with Gowthaman. Searlait, the mate of her second in command, had been held there for long years. There were interesting possibilities here.
She whipped around to Gowthaman but the words she prepared to speak died on her lips. With his back to her and both hands planted flat against the wooden table, he leaned heavily, his head hanging.
“Gowtham?”
He shook his head. “I am...” He angled his face to her. “You were thinking about Searlait, were you not?”
“Yes.” He often knew her thoughts about matters that didn’t concern the two of them. Those personal thoughts, dreams, and hopes, she kept tucked away tightly. Moving to his side, she hesitated then rested one of her hands over his. “I was. The concept and then the truth of the world between worlds surprised many in Faerie. For so long no one considered the existence of such a place. Yet, when Searlait was punished the Faerie queen sent her there.”
Gowthaman shook his head. “Since we, as a people, have seldom needed places of punishment, it was believed she had been incarcerated in a world similar, yet separate to our own. In our arrogance, we believed in only three worlds.” He lifted his free hand and ticked them off on his fingers. “Faerie, the human world and the world of banishment. I do not know if Searlait reached the place of punishment then somehow found her way to the world between worlds, or if the Queen mistakenly placed her there. It is not a question I am willing to ask Searlait or the Queen.”
“I’d like to know how she was able to make frequent contact with the human world. It’s still hard to believe she was Mom’s imaginary friend when she was a little girl.”
“Perhaps it is time for such questions.”
“I think so. Especially with your research into ways to bring Lucidea’s uncle back from... there.”
He slipped his hand from under hers as he straightened. Bree bit back the sound of dismay that echoed through her mind. He continued to refuse her. If he couldn’t love her, at least he could take the comfort she offered freely with... “No strings.”
“Pardon?”
Bree ducked her head to hide her guilty expression. She’d spoken out loud. How much of her thoughts had escaped into reality? “Uh...”
“What do you mean by no strings?” Gowthaman’s tone was soft and curious.
Relief washed through her. That was all she’d said? Thank goodness. She lifted her head and scrubbed her palms against her hips. “Oh, just a stray thought. They slip in and out occasionally.” It was a flippant statement and an even more lame excuse. Hopefully he wouldn’t press, although the odd, almost speculative expression on his face made her wonder if she’d somehow exposed more of her thoughts.
“Now, you have seen some of what I wished to show you in the hope you will assist in explaining these concepts. There is a wealth of information we must convey to lord Jaysson and his lady.”
Breanna grimaced.
A half-smile eased the strain around his mouth. “Yes, I know Jayse dislikes being called lord, but he is who he is. There are times when respect is necessary.”
“This is one of those times?”
His smile deepened though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps not. But the information is important. Will you assist me in determining the best way to present my findings?” He hesitated then held out his hand to her.
It wasn’t often he offered physical contact and she happily let him wrap the warmth of his hand around hers and lead her from his workroom.
The crackle of ancient, brittle pages roused the fire elemental from the oblivion of his gray temple. With a negligent wave of his hand, Brandr Ur ignored the call. Too long had passed, too many countless eons had crawled like unseen creatures through the nothing for him to again find interest in the dim doings of another world. Another rustle intruded on the silence and despite his disinterest, he cocked his head to listen.
A memory was hidden in the sound. No. He shook his head. Not in the sound, but in the direction from which the soft rustling traveled. The sound teased, tempted, begged him not to return to the ennui that had been his frequent companion since failing to reach the adjoining world. Even the crazed ranting of his enemy, trapped as well within the gray of the world between worlds had interested him only a short while.
The unmistakable sound of a turning page. Rising from his hard, stone bed, he paced forward. Gray mist swirled through the ruins, parting then closing behind him as though he’d never passed. He reached out one hand as he walked, fingers spread—to feel, to grasp, to discover... Nothing. Nothing but the sound.
Brandr Ur moved forward, his feet sure on the uneven landscape beyond his temple ruins. For too many millennia he had trod over this ground and dared not count how many times his had soles touched the stone. He knew every pebble, every inch of dry, cracked soil as well as he knew his own skin. As he walked he searched his mind. If he were to count the time in the short spans the humans of one world called years, how long had it been since the grand confrontation?
Frozen mid-step, he sighed, taking in the oppressive air then expelling with a long breath. The allure of vengeance, paled to gray in this prison, returned to glow faintly around him.
A rustle. The faint scratch of quill upon parchment? The sounds echoed, the clear tones vastly different from the usual muffled movements around him. So rare, he couldn’t help the sparks of interest burning to life around him.
Brandr Ur moved quickly, renewing the nearly forgotten incantations used to reach acceptable, open minds in other worlds. Spells that alone did not release him, but brought him knowledge, sacrifice and the power to control the fates of less worthy beings.
The glowing promise of revenge burned rapidly through him, filling his mind with recent communications he’d set aside as unimportant, those touches of denial and acceptance. As he increased his pace he drew residual power from the gray landscape and gathered the tiny sparks into him. The reserve of power swelled and he stopped to inhale deeply.
The time had come again. He would take this opportunity and all that was offered and return to the worlds that had denied and banished him. Holding one hand before his face, he exhaled and a flicker of flame burned at one fingertip. He closed his fist around the heat, strengthened the fire as it returned within and smiled.
He would be denied no longer.
At a loping run he crossed an expanse of dull landscape where the color of the stones merged with sky to create a solid gray prison. There were many here, most forced into the world between worlds as punishment. A few others had chosen the oblivion or had been trapped here.
Other than the rare worshiper or one he used for his own pleasure, Brandr Ur seldom encountered any of them. Now he felt a presence a short distance before him. One who moved in the same direction.
A scowl accompanied his narrowed eyes. There was only one who might hear what he had heard, and realize the possibilities. The spawn of his spawn. Blood of his blood. His enemy.
Four
The portal opened at the end of the long drive leading to Lucidea’s stone manor house. Breanna paused to study the centuries old building. Arched windows, thick, ivy covered walls, a stone drive. Familiar. Maybe this house felt so welcoming, almost like a second home, because she’d spent so much time here as a child. First in hiding while the threat of fey evil hung over her family, then being home schooled. Her mouth twitched to a lopsided grin. Her folks had wanted to integrate her into the human school system, but
she’d been more than a bit too precocious with her magical abilities. Chance had been even worse.
So when Jayse and Lucidea had begun fostering children from their differing fey races in an attempt to bring their worlds closer together, she and her brother had joined in the lessons. Coralie had been an excellent teacher, knowledgeable and tolerant of magical mischief.
Gowthaman started forward and she longed to take his hand as she had in the library. That had been just a momentary thrill, and she wasn’t even sure he had been aware of grasping her hand. Now, his arms were full of books and a canvas bag of scrolls hung at his hip. Even after she’d insisted, he wouldn’t allow her to carry anything but the thin journal crammed with his notes.
She clutched the book against her chest. “Do you really think all this information will be Lucidea’s miracle?”
Gowthaman paused and canted his head to look at her. “Do you have reason to believe my calculations are incorrect?”
“No, of course not. But—”
“We approach a time of great magic. A time that is similar enough to when Morghan was taken into the world between worlds, the possibility for his rescue increases.” Gowthaman continued toward the house.
Focusing on Gowthaman’s back, she frowned. It had cost him dearly to research this problem. Knowledge she’d gained from healing his pain was limited. Part of that may have been her fault. When she’d healed his mind the first time, her five year old mind didn’t comprehend the extent of the damage done to him. So, she’d innocently reconstructed his mental shields, creating a thick wall to protect his deepest thoughts.
In those rare moments he allowed her to touch his mind now, he kept too many thoughts, and too much of his discomfort and pain behind that wall. Curious as she was, she’d never pressed beyond what he allowed her to see.
Shoulders stiff and tight, his jaw clenched, he showed signs of needing her healing. He needed her, though he would not yet admit to either need. Soon, as he had in the past, he would no longer be able to hold back the emptiness and agony and would come to her. Grateful, she would heal him. But this time, she would offer him more. Yet, only if he were willing.
Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) Page 3
