Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  Then spoke with both words and the mind touch. “I shall do as I desire. Sit and we shall speak as men. Tell me your name.”

  Groaning, the young one released his grip on the sword, clasped his second hand to his temple and dropped to his knees. His lips firmed to a thin line of physical refusal. Brandr Ur laughed at the futile rebuff.

  “Come, come,” he said, cajoling. “Let us speak as equals. At least for this moment.”

  Silence continued the boy’s rebellion. Brandr Ur pressed his mental probe deeper and found a name. “Chance. You are Chance. An odd name.”

  A surly growl reverberated from the boy and the elemental laughed again. He hadn’t had such an enjoyable time for ages. Eons perhaps. Then he fell silent as well, watching the one whose skin stank with the need for battle. A battle Brandr Ur was more than willing to give him, except for the stupid promise he’d vowed before the prince. Still, another pleasure might come from this meeting.

  “So, young Chance. You wish to fight me?”

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “Not really. What I want is for you to leave Morghan and his people alone.”

  “Ah, then you come to me as their champion.”

  Chance snorted. “Hardly. But if fighting and defeating you will achieve my purpose, then so be it.”

  “Your purpose?” Brandr Ur leapt to his feet, drew himself as tall at the boulders surrounding him and slapped his palm to the center of his chest. “Your measly purpose means nothing to me. The future awaits. My future.” He spread his arms to indicate the land around him. “This nothingness is merely a delay.”

  “A permanent delay.” Chance rose and, fists clenched, took a step closer.

  Lifting one eyebrow, Brandr Ur stared at the young man’s face. Determination had hardened his jaw; tight corded muscles strained his neck and shoulders. Only a glimmer in the pale eyes showed any fear. Yet, the child desired a battle. “Think you so?”

  Chance stepped forward again. Brandr Ur called upon the heat flowing through his body and the air around him shimmered. But the boy did not retreat. He leaned his upper body through the heat and gave a cocky grin. “I know so, old man. Yeah, I know you’re an all-powerful elemental. Control fire and all that. Ages old plans.” He angled back and gave a slight nod. “Those grand plans haven’t come to fruition yet, have they?”

  Startled by Chance’s sarcasm, Brandr Ur remained silent. There was something more to the challenge hanging heavy in the air between them, more than words had yet spoken of.

  Frowning, he pressed deeper into the young one’s mind. ::Let me in and I shall show you my plans. Show you your place—::

  ::No!::

  Projected with the force of magic and the scent Brandr Ur didn’t yet understand, the mental cry shoved him from his comfortable avenue of invasion. Pain, a soft wave of pain... How could this be? He was impervious to pain. The unusual sensations made him lose the last of his focus and the connection with the boy disintegrated.

  A cock-sure smile twisted the boy’s lips before he gave a mock salute and a shallow bow. “So, elemental. Until tomorrow. Rest assured you won’t get past me to any other world. And you will leave Morghan and the Alfar alone.” Spinning on one foot, he gave the elemental his back.

  Astounded at the boy’s audacity, Brandr Ur stared at the retreating swagger. He inhaled deeply, capturing the oddly familiar sense of magic. What power did the boy keep hidden within him? As a god, he would know this power. And use it.

  A faint tickle started at the center of his forehead. He lifted a finger to touch the spot and a presence exploded into his brain. ::And stay the fuck out of my head, bastard.::

  Twenty-three

  There was nothing to do. Bree leaned against a smooth stone, staring into the distance. When asked, she’d said she was watching for Chance, but in reality she let her vision blur to stare into nothing. Inaction ate at her, churning in her belly, making her doubt.

  They had entered the world between worlds with the extra days before them to aid in their search for Morghan. But they’d landed practically on his doorstep—she smiled to herself—if he’d had a door. They knew of no way to open the veil any earlier than the blue moon the following night. As background noise to her musing, Gowthaman and Morghan continued to discuss every avenue of possible escape Morghan had attempted when he’d first been brought here.

  Tapping her foot raised a cloud of dust. She cast a quick glance sideways to study the shadow of a neighboring rock and the line Chance had drawn. If the shadow would only move a little faster and meet the line, she’d have an excuse to go look for her brother. At least it would be something to do.

  A human shadow moved next to her and Coralie knelt at her side. “Come an’ join us at the fire, Breanna. Yer doin’ no good sittin’ here by yerself. Chance will return when he is good an’ ready.”

  A retort burst to her lips and she bit back her snarl then sighed. “I know. I’m just out of sorts.”

  “Ye mean this situation is out of yer control.”

  Bree gave Coralie a sharp look before sighing again. “Yeah. It is. I didn’t realize I was such a control freak.”

  Coralie patted her arm. “Oh, yer no’. But ye are concerned for the lives of our little group. An’ how we are to return. ’Tis naught we can do but wait until the appointed time and do what we planned. The magic will either work, or ’twill no’.”

  Stunned by the complacency in Coralie’s tone, Bree asked, “Don’t you want to get home?”

  “Ah, ye ken...” After a pause Coralie gazed at Morghan and a soft smile curved her lips. The sour bile of jealousy settled in Bree’s stomach at the love shining there. “Ye ken wherever he may be, that be my home. In the human world. In Alfar waters. Here. ’Twill always be so.”

  If only she could allow herself the luxury of love. Bree firmed her resolve and looked at Gowthaman. As though sensing the touch of her gaze, he turned to smile. Her heart leapt but she tamped down the loving elation. She offered a half smile in return then looked away from Gowtham’s quizzical expression.

  Coralie touched her elbow. “I do no’ understand ye, Breanna. Afore this night past, ye did no’ hide yer feelin’s from the librarian. Now that he openly returns yer love, ye will no even speak with him?” She shook her head. “I do no’ ken.”

  “Neither do I. I want us to be like I’ve dreamed for so long. But now... here... I can’t.”

  “An’ ye would give away yer chance for happiness?”

  “Happiness? Here?”

  Disappointment filled Coralie’s expression. Bree’s stomach lurched lower. She might as well find a piece of paper and start making a list of her failures. She wanted to be a loving mate, ached to be, but her relationship with Gowthaman had changed so rapidly. And after the violence of the post-healing release. How could she go on from that moment, living her dream as though he hadn’t seen her in the throes of weakness? Would he have given her comfort or offered her love in another place? At another time? The desperation of the world between worlds might cause any of them to act or react differently than they would in their comfortable, well known worlds.

  The thought tumbled round and around in her brain. Thankfully Coralie remained silent. Bree didn’t have a clue how she would answer any more questions from her astute friend.

  Action would clear her mind. With a soft ‘humph’ she understood why Chance had gone to explore. And Searlait’s warnings against letting the doldrums settle in the mind.

  Resolved to shake off the gathering lethargy and despair, she scrambled to her feet and held one hand out to Coralie. “Let’s go see what our guys are talking about, shall we?”

  Morghan paused in explaining his theory when Breanna and Coralie moved toward them. Gowthaman relished the silence that gave him a moment to watch Breanna’s easy stride, the soft sway of her hips. She was troubled, but after he’d caught her staring at him, she appeared to have hidden those troubles away. Now her smile was relaxed, yet he sensed the tension tightening into ti
ny lines at the corners of her eyes.

  He didn’t know whether to honor her silent plea and not acknowledge her concerns, or take her in his arms and kiss away whatever troubled her. He settled for taking her hand and drawing her down beside him. He kept her fingers curled against his palm and stroked the side of her thumb with his. A flash of—ah, he’d spent too long ignoring or denying the emotions her eyes showed so clearly, now he wasn’t sure what he’d seen. While Coralie settled in the cradle of Morghan’s crossed legs, Gowthaman tugged Breanna closer and whispered, “Do not doubt. I do love you.”

  Her eyes glistened before she turned her face from him. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  He kept his voice soft. “No, sundarii, it is I who must offer thanks for all you have given me. For the years I did not understand, the times I pushed you away.”

  The dimple in her cheek deepened before she faced him with a true smile. “We’ll talk about that when we get home. You’ve got time to make up for.”

  The teasing glint overlaying the worry in her eyes lessened some of his concerns. He would gladly give her that time, now and forever. “Yes, there will be much to say.”

  “Say? Yes, that too.”

  Breanna glanced at the designs Morghan had drawn in the gray dust. “So what were you guys talking about?”

  Morghan cleared his throat. “While Gowthaman told me of the legends an’ tales he’d discovered about the blue moon, I remembered a drawin’ I’d once seen. Long ago when Da was tryin’ to teach m’brother an’ me to lead our people. ’Twas in one of his old books. I fear at that time, I did no’ care to learn anythin’ but what was of interest to me.” He gave a short chuckle then continued. “I believe the book was among the collection Da gave ye, sweet Coralie.”

  Coralie poked him in the chest. “Aye, an’ what would ye have learned then instead?”

  He grabbed her finger and brought it to his lips. Gowthaman cast down his gaze, knowing he should be able to so easily shower the woman he loved with simple affections. Their relationship was too new, and the time too desperate to find the moments to become lovers comfortable with each other.

  Breanna squeezed his hand and leaned her shoulder into his. He accepted her silent understanding with yet another personal vow to discover the ways to treat his Breanna as the love and soul she was to him.

  “An’ mayhap, sweet Coralie... No, I will no’ think of what might have been. Much of my life was wasted. I accept my faults an’ the repercussions of m’ actions.”

  Morghan had stated simple concepts in words Gowthaman knew he should be able to vocalize, though the reasons may be vastly different. The increased pressure of Breanna’s hand continued to grant him understanding. She had always understood and forgiven him. How could one woman be so true?

  Breanna asked, “What was this drawing? Is it something that will help insure our safe return home?”

  “That, I am unable to answer. In truth, my recollection is dim, at best. But, this illustration consisted of three circles separated from a fourth by a thick line.”

  He fell silent. The tiny fire cracked and snapped. Gowthaman stared into the gray flame. He did not remember seeing drawings similar to the one Morghan described, but his access to Alfar knowledge had been limited. Morghan had sketched a simple drawing in the dirt, one that would seem to hold no special meaning. Yet he felt an importance deep in his bones.

  How was it that the simplest puzzles were often the most difficult to solve?

  Morghan lifted a strand of Coralie’s curls, twisted it through his fingers, then began to plait the length. He hummed as he worked.

  Gowthaman tilted his head to listen. The soft notes danced in a rhythmic pattern he could almost grasp. Similar to another... no, to a game. A game human children often played. He glanced at Breanna. As a child, she had charmed him into joining her in that game.

  Straightening with a jerk, he closed his eyes to visualize a page from his journal. In the lower corner was an odd notation he’d made without understanding why. The name of that game. Ring o’ Ring o’ Roses.

  “What are you humming?”

  Breanna asked the question he was about to speak. Gowthaman opened his eyes to give her a grateful nod. Once again she anticipated his intellectual need.

  His pulse throbbed. Slow heat filled his veins then settled low and heavy in his body. Another need flushed through him, burning hotter at the easy wink she gave him. This need, this she would anticipate as well.

  Morghan continued to hum until he completed the thin braid. Resting his hands on Coralie’s shoulders, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression. “A children’s song. A game. I do no’ ken why I think of it now. Feels as if ages have passed since I last watched children at play.”

  Gowthaman pointed at the rough scratching in the dirt. “Do you believe there is any connection between the drawing and the song?”

  Cuddling closer then lifting his arm to wrap around her shoulders, Breanna said, “I was just going to ask that.” She chuckled, then stared at Morghan. “Well?”

  He shrugged. “Who can say?”

  “Hopefully we can. The tune reminds me a little of Ring around the Rosie. I just loved that when I was little. Especially the falling down part. Remember?” She gave Gowthaman a gentle jab with her elbow.

  “Yes, little missy. You made me join your game many times.” He smiled and touched the tip of his middle finger to her nose, just as he had when she was a child.

  She grabbed his finger, pressed a kiss to the pad then continued, “But, you know, the song wasn’t just some nonsense for kids. The rhyme was originally created so people remembered the black plague.”

  A shudder crawled along Gowthaman’s spine. Although his Faerie home had been far distant, the threat of the Black Death had kept the portals closed and well-guarded. Young and daring, he had risked exposure many times in the name of illumination and knowledge. Long before his risks had led to the stealing of his mind.

  Warmth from Breanna’s simple caress steered him from the still tender pit of his loss and memory. He glanced at her face; she stared past Morghan’s shoulder, searching the distance.

  Coralie sighed. “Aye, that was a terrible time. The Alfar seldom rose to the surface in those days. We were susceptible to the disease as well.” She glanced sideways at Morghan. “Yer Da once told me he believed my parents died then.”

  “Did he now? Was there more he told ye? Afore—”

  “He did no’. We shall speak of such things when we do no’ have more important discussions.” Coralie caught Breanna’s attention. “So, yer thinkin’ our Alfar song may have a similar hidden meaning?”

  An elegant shrug lifted her shoulders. “It’s worth a thought anyway. The timing of Morghan’s remembering the song, along with his drawing, feels like it should be important. Great, now I’m sounding like Nightshade and all his ‘feelings’.”

  Morghan scratched his head. “Ye wish me to remember words from my childhood?”

  “Oh, come on Morghan. Surely you’re not so old.” Bree glanced from his face to Coralie’s grin and back. “Or are you?”

  He gave her a long, appraising look and said, “No’ so much older than yer man. Though ye are a wee bit of a young one.”

  “And I remember the games I played. So...”

  “So,” he repeated. “Coralie, ye must help me. Yer memory far outshines m’own.”

  “Compliments? Aye. Will ye hum it again?”

  Bree leaned close to Gowthaman while Coralie teased Morghan into the song. “I wish Chance would get back,” she muttered.

  Gowthaman stroked her hair. She loved his hands in her hair. She would grow it long again—when they got home. Pleasure relaxed the tense muscles of her shoulders. His fingers danced down the side of her neck, tickling the tender spot below her ear. “Soon, sundarii. The shadow has not yet met his mark.”

  The sharp sound of Coralie’s clap chased Chance from the top of her list of concerns. “What?”

  “I reme
mber the game we played, but no’ yet all the words. First we would join hands and spin in a circle while we sang. I think... aye, we did often tumble to the ground.”

  “Yep, just like our Ring around the Rosie. Anything else?”

  Concentration drew Coralie’s brows together. “I... um... aye, at a certain phrase one of the players jumped to the middle of the circle an’ we had to hold him within. We were no’ supposed to allow the center child to break apart our hands. No matter how hard he tried.”

  “Now that sounds like a game we had called London Bridge. Someone got ‘locked up’ when the bridge fell down. That was the fun part—trying to break free and getting tossed around.”

  “Oh, an’ in our game no matter how many children played, there was ne’er more than four in each group. Three for the circle an’ one inside.” Coralie kissed Morghan’s cheek. “Do ye remember the words yet?”

  “Soon, eudail. Hush now an’ let me think.”

  Reaching for the stick Morghan had dropped, Gowthaman traced over the designs the Sindhu had drawn. Bree watched the slow movement. The sound of dry wood against the even drier earth screeched like fingernails against a blackboard. She shuddered and Gowthaman’s movements stilled.

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to—”

  “Hush. The sound just grates on my nerves. I know you’re thinking.”

  Nodding slowly, he laid the stick aside. “While I do not sense anything familiar about this diagram, there is meaning for us. The need to know settles in my chest, and at the center of my intellect.”

  “Three circles. Hmm. All through your research into rescuing Morghan, the number three has played a prominent role.”

  “Three is a holy number for many civilizations. Perhaps it is no more than that.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?” Bree took his hand, curled down his thumb and little finger then indicated the remaining fingers. “What do we know about the number three in this case? Speaking a spell or incantation three times? Morghan tried that before with limited success. He prevented the elemental from escaping but was brought here as well.”