Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad)

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Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) Page 24

by *lizzie starr


  This was it.

  Confrontation.

  Battle.

  Panic swept through her, swirling, building, making her muscles weak and trembling. Her Alastriona training had prepared her for battle, but she had never really expected to face a foe as menacing and world threatening as this ancient fire elemental. The urge to turn and run twined with her panic.

  Gowthaman wrapped his arm around her waist. Damn, now she couldn’t run. If only the trembling would stop. Maybe then she could think.

  Granda would be so ashamed of her.

  The elemental stopped a few hundred yards from them, smiled broadly and pointed to the faint circle of lighter gray half way to the horizon. Then he shook his head in mock sadness and found a low stone where he sat, crossed his arms and cocked his head regally to one side.

  “What’s he doing?’ Bree whispered.

  A second low growl rumbled from Morghan. “A creature of his word, so he says. He will no’ come to fight until ’tis time for the veil to open. Until ’tis time for him to make his...” He paused and increased the volume of his voice. “Attempt...” another pause, then in a more normal tone, “...to escape.”

  “So, you really don’t think he’s going to fight us now?”

  Morghan shook his head. “That one has a misguided sense of himself, an’ what actions he decides to take. I do no’ ken why he holds his own word in such high regard.”

  “So, he’s just going to sit there and watch us?”

  Chance moved from his position at the edge of the camp. “Looks like it.”

  Worry for her brother gave Bree a focus, something other than misgivings over her own preparedness. “Has he tried to get in your head?”

  “Nope. Don’t think he’ll give it much of a try either. He doesn’t need to control any of us since what he wants is within his grasp. Or so he thinks.”

  Control? A fresh wash of fear settled like a lump in her stomach. “Did he, did he ever...”

  Chance gave her his usual cheeky grin. “Never. At first, when I had no idea what was going on, he may have tried. Give me a little credit for some strength of character, will ya, Sis?”

  “Chance, I wouldn’t—”

  “I know. And no, he never did. Without really trying I must have found the way to block him before he had the chance to dig in. Maybe that ability was left over from our battles with Fiedhlim. So, no worries about me, sister mine.”

  But she would worry about him. Both because he was her brother, and because he was a part of the team. A team she was supposed to be leading.

  She stiffened her spine. Gowthaman gave her waist a squeeze then stepped back, close enough to offer moral support, but far enough to allow her to make her own decisions. She closed her eyes. Please let me make the right decisions. “We’ll wait, as long as he does. Watch him. If he moves...”

  “Aye.” Morghan paced three steps forward, lifting his fists higher with each step. “I’ll watch the... creature. ’Twill no’ be long until time to begin. I know the words, have repeated them innumerable times o’er the years here. Ye watch the time. I will no’ let the elemental disturb yer final preparations.”

  He strode to the edge of their campsite, found his own stone and sat facing Brandr Ur. Crossing his arms, he rubbed at the bandage on his upper arm then matched the elemental’s pose.

  The insane urge to laugh crawled up to settle in Bree’s throat. Stand-off, world between worlds style. “Okay,” she breathed. “What’s left to do?”

  Coralie shrugged. “Wait.”

  Bree glanced at Gowthaman. He lifted one shoulder. “We shall each review the incantation and prepare in the event the others are unable to split the veil.”

  “Agreed. Chance?”

  “I’m just gonna sit over here. I’ll help Morghan watch, go over the words. And there’s a couple other things I need to take care of.” He sat on the ground, his long sword balanced across his knees.

  In the end, they all sat, lost in the silence of their thoughts. Waiting.

  Shortly before moonrise, Jayse led his small party to the brae. Nightshade lagged behind but his thoughts raced as he scuffed along the dirt path.

  After the last communication from Breanna they’d each drifted into their own thoughts, though he was sure all those thoughts centered around one thing. All three branches of the Alfar race were needed to successfully hold Brandr Ur in the world between worlds. He wasn’t convinced the magic of Faerie participation would fill the Domovoii void. But perhaps it would slow the elemental enough to allow the rescue party’s escape.

  He didn’t relish the idea of telling Breanna’s parents she and her brother weren’t coming home.

  Giving himself a shake, he increased his speed and climbed the steep path to the outcropping’s level crown. He moved immediately to the edge overhanging the loch and stared out over the dark water.

  In the distance the loch disappeared into the cobalt of the advancing night. The moon would rise from the darkness, a moon over-full with meaning and magic. A similar moon would rise in at least two other worlds, enabling the elemental to traverse the veil and enter one of the opened worlds.

  To terrorize this human world.

  Nightshade took a fortifying breath. He would do anything and everything within his power to prevent that from happening.

  A bank of dense clouds hovered in the distance. The lower edge glowed silver as each layer of churning clouds captured moonlight then reflected the iridescent shine further into the sky. It was an ethereal moonrise, one he would have appreciated fully in another place, at another time.

  He watched until the moon’s curved, gilded edge eased into the night sky. Then he turned to the others, spread his hands and snapped his fingers.

  “Showtime.”

  Brandr Ur stretched. This day was interminably long. Yet he was willing to wait a bit longer, considering his reward.

  Freedom. Freedom from this forsaken place. Freedom to do as he wished, to take all he desired. To rule.

  He’d never bothered to study the minds he’d been able to touch throughout the ages. Now he pondered what he would discover in the world of weak humans. Would they be much different than those who long ago worshiped him, and his brethren?

  The low sound of unrestrained anger rumbled through his chest. Existence had been good all those millennium ago. Fewer beings populated his world then, but they had worshiped him. Closing his eyes he savored the memory of adulation and offerings. Soon, he would again receive his due. That which his brethren had taken from him so long ago.

  What fools his fellow Elementals had been, choosing a form of oblivion in another dimension when lesser beings fell to their knees before them. He’d made his stand, refused to retreat with the other gods. Another angry growl vibrated along his spine.

  And because he’d refused, had chosen instead the adulation, his brethren imprisoned his fire deep beneath the sea. A witch who imagined herself as powerful as a god, had discovered the way to breach his prison. Allowing him to break free. To a world with god-pretenders and only two worshipers. Two who would not bow to him. A stirring of pleasure settled in his groin and he shifted. The most pleasing memories he carried were not of worship, but of their child as a woman grown. Of Dea Anu.

  Of the times he’d taken her. Only thrice, but what pleasure.

  Movement from the camp destroyed his memory and he frowned. The prince of waters had risen and paced from one side of his camp to the other. And back to his stone.

  Brandr Ur blew out a disgusted breath. Blood of his blood. A poor showing of a descendant. Had Dea Anu and the worthless godling she’d chosen over him allowed him access to his offspring, this prince of waters would be a far different creature.

  Or perhaps not. Time had a way of diluting the power he would have nurtured in any descendant willing to worship him.

  The morose thoughts faded as he stared toward the horizon. The weak sun that lightened the gray, touched the horizon. Soon he would be free. To burn with th
e power of the sun. Glorious flames. Free of the dull, lifeless gray.

  His skin tightened, hot with the anticipation of increased power. In this moment it didn’t matter which worlds were home to the rising full moons. His plan was set, the motion begun, and nothing would prevent him from taking his rightful place.

  As a god. The only god.

  Morghan studied the elemental with the intensity of remembered purpose. The feeling pleased him. Existence in the world between worlds was one of deprivation. No color, no interaction, no... Coralie. He’d been nearly lost to the lack of sensation. Mayhap only a few more hours and he would have been beyond caring. Beyond rescue.

  Thank Sindhu, thank the blessed waters of the great sea, Coralie had been on time.

  Now he had that purpose, and a reason to remain alert and caring. He would see the others safely home. Even if he faced the sacrifice of remaining here.

  The elemental stretched and altered his position to watch the barely visible sun lower toward the horizon. Little time remained. And so many thoughts to think.

  His niece, his darlin’ Lucidea, had ruled well in his absence, for Coralie spoke nothing but praise for Lucidea and her husband. Morghan glanced at the young woman who led the party to rescue him. If Lucidea’s man was of the same race, of the same quality as Breanna, he was satisfied. This Faerie race bred strong, determined folk. Much like the Sindhu.

  He frowned a moment before Coralie came to him. If his sacrifice were called for, how could he watch her pass through the veil, returning to their worlds without him?

  “Yer thinkin’ very loud, m’lord.”

  “An honorific?”

  “Yer expression was one of royal thought, Morghan.”

  “Aye, heavy thoughts for heavy times, eudail.”

  Coralie stroked her hand over his shoulders. Delight followed her touch and he leaned back to increase the pressure. She bent to whisper. “We shall all return home together. An’ if we do no’, I will stay here with ye.”

  “Ye shall no’.” He shook his head and twisted his shoulders but she wouldn’t move away. Instead, she caught his face between her hands and kissed him.

  “Oh, I shall. Never would I choose a place such as this for livin’. But, Morghan, ye are my life. Where ye are is where I must be. I would no’ survive if I must be separated from ye again.”

  “No, sweet Coralie, I would no’ allow it.”

  Taking a step back, she fisted her hands at her hips. “Ye would no’ allow it? I say ye would have no choice. ’Tis my decision to make. An’ I choose ye, my love. I have, an’ I always will.”

  After a quick glance to ascertain the elemental had not moved, Morghan held out both hands to her. “Come here, woman.”

  She tilted her head to one side, contemplating him. Then she smiled and swayed toward him. Once he held her on his lap and nuzzled her hair, he sighed. “I would not have ye here, but if ’tis to be, then I shall be pleased to have ye here with me.”

  “Pleased?”

  “Oh aye, more than pleased.” Yet as he kissed her he was unable to keep his fears contained and the kiss melded into desperation. If they could not stop the elemental—

  Coralie stiffened and pulled away. “Listen.”

  Holding his breath to still the panicked beating of his heart, Morghan strained to hear what held Coralie’s attention. She pressed on his shoulder and stood facing the far side of the small camp.

  Then he heard—the rising rumble of voices in the distance.

  Twenty-seven

  Dogs barked in the distance. Desert dogs voicing displeasure. Gowthaman shook his head to clear the fancy. But the sound continued. After a moment grim satisfaction brought a tight smile to his lips. Not dogs. The chanted incantation, blessed voices from the human world.

  He glanced at the elemental. Brandr Ur straightened and turned his head, listening, but gave no indication of interest other than to cross one ankle over the opposite knee.

  Gowthaman snorted softly. The elemental did not need to broadcast his intentions. They knew his plans well enough. Well enough for Gowthaman to know they weren’t truly prepared to do battle with such an ancient creature.

  Turning his gaze from the lounging elemental, Gowthaman took a moment to study his friends.

  Friends. For far too many years he’d had acquaintances aplenty, but friends? He had not realized how lonely life had been. Others who studied ancient texts, who occasionally inhabited the dim halls of Alexandria’s Fey library had once been enough. Not true companionship, but the meeting of like minds, the comfort of knowing there were others nearby—others who, like him, neither wanted nor pursued attachments.

  He had been content. Or so he had believed. The short time he had thought himself in love with Kaelea brought him into the Zeroun family circle.

  Not a single one of these who came here bore the name or the blood of the Zeroun clan, yet each was as much a part of the whole as any. Even the Sindhu prince, whom none had yet met, would be welcomed and named family.

  The bitter realization he had been so welcomed even after nearly causing Bard his life, and Kae her happiness, welled in his chest, cutting off his breath. One person perhaps could forgive his actions—but an entire family? How did such acceptance happen? He was not worthy of the honor bestowed upon him.

  The mumbled chanting grew clearer, the words nearly intelligible. Though the elemental had not yet risen from his stone perch, his eyes glittered with malice. Evil intent strained the cords of neck muscle, deepening the outward expression of Brandr Ur’s focus. Only moments remained before the elemental burst into action.

  Gowthaman tightened his determination and reached for the sword he had used in the mock battle with Chance. He would fight beside this family, stand with the woman he loved and the friends he never thought to have.

  When he had so rashly followed Breanna into the world between worlds, he had believed his purpose to be as a sacrifice. Only two days ago he had thought such a sacrifice was his to make, both to assist with Morghan’s rescue and to purge himself of his self-pitying pain. How wrong he had been.

  Wrong about so many things. Shame and regret burned across his cheeks, heating his skin unbearably. He no longer wished to sacrifice himself. Found the very idea repugnant. Blindly reaching to the side, he captured Breanna’s hand, brought it to his lips then released her. The small caress was enough to show her his love, then allow her the space to perform her duties as Alastriona and leader of this mission.

  She leaned against his side, and he found comfort in the warm pressure. He would fight at her side and neither of them would become a sacrifice to the elemental’s plans.

  The chant separated into three distinct voices. Only mildly surprised to hear Lucidea’s clear tones joining with Jayse’s deep rumble and Tori’s alto, Gowthaman narrowed his eyes, watching Brandr Ur for indications of the elemental’s next move.

  Brandr Ur smiled benignly and slowly rose to his feet. He gave a courtly bow in Morghan’s direction then took a step forward, speaking syllables in a language so harsh and guttural they seemed to rip the Alfar spell from the air.

  Morghan moved after the elemental, joining in the distant, human world chant. Coralie added her voice but a moment later.

  Gowthaman felt Breanna take a deep breath. She straightened, nodded and they stepped forward together, angling to put the elemental between them and Morghan. When the chant began again, with their voices forcing the words into the world between worlds, magic rose around them.

  The explosive swirl of powerful, unrecognized magic caused Gowthaman to stumble over the words. He breathed in the essences, tasting the powerful flavor of the Alfar, then expelled the magical intent with his power-filled chanting.

  Brandr Ur took a heavy step forward. Chance moved directly before him, the long sword held loose at his side. The young man’s fervency when he joined the chant and a sharp indication with the tip of the sword, directed the power to form a tight swirl rising from the elemental’s feet to c
url about his body.

  Laughing, Brandr Ur shook off the magic like a wet dog, shoved Chance to the ground and strode past him. Breanna tensed, then relaxed as her brother righted himself, continuing to speak in unison with the others.

  The elemental’s laughter broke off in a frustrated snarl. Brandr Ur continued forward, but his movements became a slow motion struggle of arms and legs as though he moved through a sticky, gelatinous membrane.

  Gowthaman frowned. Even increasing the force and intensity of their words did not completely stop the elemental. Brandr Ur moved slowly, steadily, toward the spot where his low spoken magic had increased the thinning of the veil.

  Using the reasoning someone needed to watch for the unexpected, Nightshade stood to one side of the chanting trio. Facing the sky and the thinning veil, Tori stood in front of Jayse and Lucidea, creating a loose triangle. There had been no convincing Lucidea to remain in the relative safety of the manor house. Jayse’s vehement arguments rang with logic which she had countered with fierce determination. She had even used her pregnancy to her advantage—claiming the life they’d created added even more magic to the equation.

  Jayse had not been convinced. Nightshade grimaced. Neither had he. Yet she had pushed her way past both men and here she was.

  Lucidea calmly spoke words gleaned from the past, words intended to bring about Morghan’s return. Despite the serenity in her expression, she clasped her husband’s hand with a white-knuckled grip. That same anxiety exerted a tight grasp on Nightshade’s heart. He moved a step closer and frowned.

  When they had breached the veil two nights previously, the barrier between this world and the world between worlds had fought the magic before tearing open. Tonight, it was as if the veil peeled away, each layer bringing them closer to Morghan’s return. Nightshade glanced at the rising moon, shivering as the power of the full, shimmering globe rained down on him.

  Trepidation tingled across his shoulders and he attempted to shrug it away. But the odd feeling settled between his shoulder blades, a dull knife of anxiety threatening to pierce his skin.

 

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