Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

by *lizzie starr

  Ruffling Chance’s hair, Breanna stood, then walked toward Gowthaman and took his hand. Her touch sparked the beating of his heart. He could breathe again. She bent and kissed a spot near his ear then whispered, “I know. I love you too.”

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  Nightshade jerked from his slouch and stared at the water wall. Something woke him from his light doze, a call he strained to hear repeated. Silence. He glanced around discovering Jayse and Lucidea curled in sleep on the couch. Tori was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she’d left and her movements had broken into his dreams, waking him.

  Returning his attention to the waterwall, he studied the continual flow of water over the smooth rock surface. Twenty years ago visions had overwhelmed Lucidea when she touched the water, but since that time, the wall remained only a softly gurgling water feature with no discernible source. Fighting a memory, he sank back into the overstuffed chair and willed himself to rest.

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  On his feet before the soft reverberations ended, Nightshade paced to the wall and tentatively flattened his palm against the flowing water. The sound repeated, throbbing up his arm to settle in his chest.

  Behind him, he heard the rustle of papers then Tori moved to stand beside him. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I heard something.”

  “And you’re touching the wall because...?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure, honey.”

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  “Did you hear that?” He glanced at Tori and she nodded.

  “Drumming.”

  “Are you sure? There’s only been a couple of short bursts, nothing like what you use for focus.” Nightshade inched his hand from the water, shook his head and replaced his palm. “Come on... again.”

  As if in answer to his command, the faint beats sounded.

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  Tori stepped closer. “That sounds... familiar somehow.”

  It was familiar. How had he not noticed immediately? Nightshade threw back his head and laughed.

  Mumbled complaints came from the sleeping couple but they hurried to join Nightshade at the wall. “What?” Lucidea grouched, then cast him an apologetic glance.

  Turning toward the others, and keeping a serious expression on his face, Nightshade said, “It’s them. We need paper and your drum. Now.”

  While the others scurried to fill his demands, Nightshade reached through the water to touch the stone behind the flow. He closed his eyes. “That’s my girl,” he whispered.

  Jayse moved back to his shoulder. “So what’re we doing?”

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  “Don’t you recognize that?” Nightshade asked him.

  “No,” Jayse drawled as he shook his head.

  “Oh, so Nightshade’s lessons are forgotten so quickly? Honey, it pains my heart.” He rested his free palm against his chest and closed his eyes in mock despair.

  “Cut it out, Shade. What’s going on?”

  Nightshade arched one eyebrow. “It’s our rescue party. From the world between worlds. Trying to get our attention. Morse code, honey. They’re using the code.”

  Jayse drew his brows down into a frown. “Oh.” Then he straightened and grinned. “Oh.”

  “Do you remember the code well enough to help while I beat the replies? With any luck they’ll be able to hear Tori’s drum if we can hear theirs.”

  “I-I think so.”

  “Good.” Nightshade took Jayse’s hand and flattened his palm against the flow of the water wall. “This should help magnify the sounds.”

  Lucidea inched closer to her husband and held her hand next to his. “I don’t know Morse code, but I can help listen.”

  “Tori, would you write down the message as Jayse calls out the letters?”

  She waved a pen and small notebook. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, let’s do this.” Nightshade reached for Tori’s small drum then sank cross-legged to the floor. Closing his eyes for a moment he paused, hoping he was right, then tapped a series of beats on the drum.

  “Come on, come on,” Breanna muttered before tapping out the start message signal yet again. “Come on, hear me.”

  Gowthaman rested his hand on her shoulder. “Patience, Sundarii.”

  “I know,” she grumbled. “They may not be able to hear this at all. They might not realize we’re trying to communicate with them or what we need to convey. Lots of variables. But this has got to work. It has to.”

  “If it does not, we shall find another way.”

  She glanced up at him, surprised by the confidence ringing in his soft voice. When he’d scrambled through the opening in the veil after them, she’d been startled and amazed. When he lay tightly curled in upon himself she’d nearly cried with anguish and despair. She had feared for his sanity, his life, then buried that fear deep within herself. She had needed to be strong. For him. For herself. For all of them.

  When he’d allowed her access to his memories and his pain, she hadn’t had time to appreciate the strength he’d needed to release the pain to her. That strength continued to surprise and please her when he’d comforted her during the release of the healing pain.

  In an amazingly short time he’d changed. Her face heated as he stroked his finger along the side of her neck. Changed from a reticent man whose denials had turned him inward with anguish to a demonstrative, confident lover. She’d only known him in pain, was this the man Gowthaman had been before?

  “Try again, Breanna.” Gowthaman let his hand slip from her shoulder and stood back. The loss of his touch, of the warmth of him at her side made her fumble with the stick. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she snatched the makeshift beater from the ground and tapped out the signal.

  Pay attention, Bree. Think about Gowtham later, when there’s time.

  Dah dit dah dit dah

  The fading reverberations of her beats lingered in the air and she sighed. This had to—

  Dah dah dit dit dah

  G. A. Go ahead.

  Chance whooped and twirled Coralie in a circle. “It works,” he shouted. “It’s them.” Then he left Coralie in Morghan’s arms and crouched next to Bree. “Ready, Sis?” he asked as he smoothed the dirt in front of her then picked up a short stick. He looked at her expectantly.

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Yep.”

  After a pause, but before she could start their message, beats from the human world continued. Chance wrote each letter in the dust and the others moved closer to read over his shoulder.

  “Three to speak spell open veil stop Ur.”

  Gowthaman spoke in the silence at the end of the drumbeats. “So, they have come to the same conclusions.”

  “Not quite,” Chance said. “They don’t mention who the three need to be. Bree?”

  Nodding, she began the message Gowthaman had drilled with her.

  Chance whispered the words as she completed them. “Keep Ur here need all three Alfar clans. With Tori have two. Hope faerie voices substitute.”

  The long pause stretched and tension shivered across Bree’s shoulders. Had they heard? Did they understand?

  Nightshade tapped the numbers one and three. Understood. The high of contacting those in the world between worlds rapidly sank to the pit of his stomach. He’d never considered the possibility of the combination of specific races, though why he’d failed to recognize the significance drove his mood lower.

  Tori suspected her mother was an Alfar-Andras but if those suspicions rang false, they had only a combination of Sindhu and Faerie voices. And human. If they couldn’t find enough power to contain the elemental...

  Knowing the others watched, he physically shook off his concerns and managed a loose grin. “Looks like they’ll be on their way home tonight.”

  Lucidea bent until her nose was bare inches from his. “Don’t. Do not even say everything will be all right. How can it be when we don’t have a damn Domovoii.” She shook her finger. “N
one of your Nightshade optimistic chatter. We’ve got to figure out how to make up for the fact that no one’s heard anything from the Domovoii for thousands of years.”

  She straightened and turned away. “I don’t even have a clue how we might go about finding... and there’s no time anyway.”

  Jayse moved to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “We’ve got to stay strong, darlin’. There’ll be a way. We haven’t come this far—”

  She shoved him away. “Stop it. Just... stop.” Tears trailed down her cheeks and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. Must be hormones.” After a watery smile, she let Jayse cuddle her close again.

  “I know,” she continued in a weak voice. “I know we can open the veil, and we will. That’s our part of bringing everyone home. I have confidence our spell will work. After all, we got them into the world between worlds.”

  Paper crinkled as Tori set her notebook aside. “We have to extend that confidence into believing the truth that my mother was Andras. Belief is half the battle. And if we believe the magic of Faerie will compensate for not having a Domovoii, then the magic will work. Our family will escape and Brandr Ur will remain imprisoned in the world between worlds.”

  “I know...” Lucidea sniffed. “Maybe I just need to get all this doubt out of my system before I can gear up for battle again. Twenty years is a long time to plan for something... and still have roadblocks constantly falling in your way.”

  Her despair settled over the small cavern. In the silence Nightshade explored options but could discover no alternatives. But one.

  “We have until moonrise,” he said.

  Lucidea straightened, brushed her hair from her forehead and nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

  Resting his hand on her shoulder, Jayse said, “With me at your side, darlin’.”

  “And me,” Tori added.

  When they all turned to look at him, Nightshade buried his doubts behind a broad, flowing gesture. “Honeys, Nightshade wouldn’t miss this for the world. Any world.”

  Each hour of the day dragged more slowly than the one before. Messages had passed to and from Nightshade, and plans had been fine-tuned to Gowthaman and Morghan’s approval. Coralie had stuffed their gear into the packs and made a small pile near where they hoped the veil would open.

  Breanna watched Chance run through drill after drill with the unusually long sword he’d brought with him. Morghan watched as well, giving the occasional comment or instruction. She was pleased Chance took to the older man’s instruction so well, when he would have argued with her. This mission was good for him.

  Taking the shorter sword from the jumble of packs, Gowthaman drew the weapon, replaced the scabbard and advanced on Chance. Morghan backed away.

  Bree frowned. What was Gowtham doing? When he took an offensive stance, she blinked. What was he doing? She’d never known him to willingly take up a weapon, preferring the battle of words to physical conflict. He saluted Chance and attacked.

  Heart in her throat, Bree rose to her feet intent on stopping the farce of a battle. Chance would easily overpower Gowtham, and one, or both of them might be hurt. She took a step forward.

  A hand landed heavily on her shoulder. She turned and twisted from Morghan’s hold with a grumbling negative response.

  “Do no’ interfere,” he said. “Watch. Yer brother and yer man both have fine skills. ’Twill be excellent practice for the young one.”

  Skill? Gowtham? He was a librarian. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned back to the mock battle, ready to ignore Morghan’s admonishment and stop the farce.

  But the easy rhythm of Gowtham’s attack and defense held her in place. In awe. His movements flowed like a dance, showing the smooth evidence of the ease of long practice.

  Weak-kneed, she sank to the ground. Morghan and Coralie joined her. Together they sat silent, watching, listening to the clang and scrape of metal upon metal, the soft grunts of effort, the taunts and laughter of success.

  After a prolonged volley of thrusts and parries Chance took a step back and held up one hand. “I yield.”

  Gowthaman lowered his weapon, then lifted his shirt hem to wipe the sweat from his face. “Guard your left, Chance. After attack you drop your shoulder.”

  Chance tapped the flat of his blade against his thigh. “Yeah, Always have. Bree gives me grief about it too.”

  Gowtham clasped his shoulder. “We would prefer you experience grief at our observations rather than at the hand of an opponent.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  The combatants turned toward their small audience. Breanna studied Gowtham’s easy stride, the way he held his sword loose, but ready, his satisfied smile. She’d never imagined he would have skills with a sword... or with battle. Who was this man she loved?

  She’d loved him forever, loved him despite the way he hid from life, his physical and emotional pains... would she still love him as the man he’d been before the mind rape? Of course she would, and enjoy every moment of discovering the Gowtham she had never known.

  Her breath caught and she lifted one hand to her throat. Would he still need her? Still love her?

  After he sheathed the sword, Gowthaman turned toward Breanna. He had seen the surprise in her eyes when he challenged her brother. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple. The physical exertion had filled him with joy and the exhilaration of his muscles remembering. There was much Breanna did not know of him—in fact, few in her family knew. He had not had direct contact with the Zeroun clan until he imagined himself in love with Kaelea. Closing his eyes he let a moment’s memory fill him. He smiled. After so long, he discovered an honest memory, untainted by the mind stealer’s touch.

  When he opened his eyes, Breanna’s expression overflowed with doubt. She ducked her head, hiding her eyes from him. Ah, now she feared she did not know him. He understood for he barely remembered himself. She was concerned the changes in him would cause him to no longer love her.

  While he wiped his face again, Morghan and Coralie moved away from Breanna. Waiting until she looked at him, Gowthaman studied the top of her head. Even in gray, the soft silk of her hair called for him to touch, to fulfill the aching need to tangle his fingers in the short strands, to hold her still for his kiss.

  She had worked more magic than either of them realized when she healed him. Her magic allowed him to return to himself. Somehow he would find the way to help her understand, whether in pain or as a whole being, he loved her. He would always love her.

  He moved closer and cupped his hand against her hair, sighing as the strands tickled his palm. She shivered under his gentle touch. He knelt at her back and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Sundarii, soulfire does not lie.”

  A second tremor shook her body. Staring straight ahead, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  Tempted by the smooth, delicate curve, he nuzzled her ear before answering. “I mean, caarutama, most beloved, despite how we may change as we live our lives, or appear to become different in some way, those changes will be of no consequence to us. Nothing can destroy our soulfire. Nothing either of us may do or say, nothing another may attempt will destroy the destiny that brought us together.”

  She sighed when he sat, and turned to face him. Capturing her restless hands, he brought her fingers to his lips. She resisted, trying to pull away but he kept her hands in a gentle hold. “Why do you wish to cast a pall over the love I have finally admitted?”

  Breanna jerked her gaze to him. “I-I don’t...”

  “You have not known me as anything other than damaged. You are concerned now that I am able to manage the memories, I will not love you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Ah, so it is that you fear yourself, your love. That you will not love the Faerie with a mind made whole. Or perhaps you wonder if your love was born only of the need to heal.”

  Wide, her eyes glistened with the threat of tears. “How... how did you know?”

  He caressed her cheek
and brushed away a single errant tear. “Am I truly so much different? Yes, there is much you have yet to discover of me, of my life. I am, by human standards, very old. I have had experiences, lifetimes, such as you do not yet know or understand. But, my beautiful one, we now have our lives, our time together to discover what we do not yet know of each other. Does not every couple, every relationship encounter such times?”

  Her ragged breaths tugged at his heart, but he waited for her to speak. Finally, she nodded, shook her head, then nodded again. “I guess for all my life, for all my loving you and wanting to heal your agonies, I never thought about you. Who you were without the need for healing. Who you would be once the pain no longer dominated your life.”

  The evil touch of a long known comfort of pain rose in his brain. Confidence fled from the maelstrom as his mental defenses shook, the pieces threatening to return to a solid wall. Being who she had known would be so easy. Too easy.

  Breanna gripped his hand. “No, don’t do that. Don’t give in. Don’t go back. Gowtham, stay with me. I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

  He blinked, struggled with the internal force of his memories, and found the strength to laugh at the mental winds. The warmth of Breanna’s body when she leaned closer destroyed the last of the insidious temptation and he let his shoulders relax.

  “Such is my battle, Breanna. The darkness will always be there, just within reach. However, I am no longer willing to allow evil to succeed, to dominate my life. Be my constant, my anchor. When I slip toward despair, assist me to return to me, to remain me. You are the light to my darkness. I need... please, do not question my need for you.”

  The brightness he ached for shone in her teary smile. “And you’ve got me, Gowtham. Forever.”

  Forever. Even with the long ages of a Faerie lifetime before them, he liked the sound of forever.

  Twenty-six

  “We’ve got company.”

  With Chance’s bland pronouncement, followed by Morghan’s rumble of anger, Breanna knew exactly who approached the camp. Reluctant, but with a determined kiss, she eased from Gowthaman’s embrace, stood and brushed the dust from her rear. When he flowed to his feet beside her, and rested his hand over the curve of her bottom, she leaned against him. For a moment she accepted the comfort, then straightened.