I opened my mouth to answer her, but at that moment my mother decided to send a barrage of horrific images my way. A searing pain pierced my conscience and a slideshow of nightmares played across my mind: Meghan tied up in the Morrigan's chamber, her Cumorrig tearing off pieces of flesh . . . Speirling and Fergus lying dead on an abandoned battlefield, their bodies fodder for ravens . . . Meghan hanging limply from a noose in the gateway of Luathara . . . an image of myself, under the Morrigan's power, cutting Meghan's throat . . .
At some point, I must have roared out loud, because through the clamor of fear and anger battling for supremacy in my head, Enorah's voice broke through.
"Cade! Cade, what's wrong?!"
Strong, familiar arms wrapped around me and through my anguish I could smell wood smoke and honeysuckle. Enorah's scent.
Ahhhh, how sweet! Big sister is here to comfort her baby brother. Too bad she can't keep me out of your mind.
The Morrigan's evil snicker bounced around in my head, mixing with the awful images. My fury grew until my glamour could no longer take it, a slow-burning anger slowly replacing the cold dread. I can't say how long I endured it, but the entire time Enorah held me, keeping me in one piece, as the white-hot rage threatened to break free. Now would not be a good time to give myself over to the riastrad.
Like a tornado running out of strength, the images tapered off and the Morrigan's voice left my mind. When everything was finally quiet, I slumped against Enorah, exhausted and grateful it was over. I lifted one hand and wiped the sweat from my forehead. I hated that my mother had brought me this low, but at least Enorah had been the only one to see it.
Gently, my sister lifted my face with both her hands.
"Caedehn, tell me what else the Morrigan has done to you," she insisted, her eyes bright with determination and pity.
I ran my hands over my face again, dislodging hers. I didn't want to give her any more information, but I was trapped. Once I had regained my composure, I looked up at my sister. She looked so worried, but I knew she would wait as patiently as possible until she got what she wanted.
Taking a deep breath I said, "As part of the penance for my geis violation, the Morrigan has reinstated a shil-sciar connection with me."
Enorah hissed. "But you worked for years to build up a shield against her! How did she break it?"
I turned my head to the side, unwilling to meet my sister's eyes. "It was a temporary charm, Enorah. Eventually something would have caused it to fail. In the end, I simply gave in."
"Oh Cade! Why?"
"Because she had weakened me," I hissed, "and because I needed that last bit of my glamour to weave another spell, one that would protect the information she was after."
"Information?"
"I can't tell you now Enorah, please, just trust that I made the right decision."
Enorah nodded, her lips pursed in irritation. I imagined it was aimed mostly at my mother and not me.
"What spell did you use to keep your information safe?"
This time my smile was genuine. "Remember that little charm you taught me so long ago? The one for hiding secrets?"
Enorah gaped at me. "You remember that? After all these years?"
I nodded, glad to have distracted Enorah a little from my ordeal.
"You know," she said, letting her shoulders droop a little, "it was the Morrigan who taught me that spell."
Now that shocked me. My face must have shown it because Enorah shook her head and gave me a sad smile.
"She had certain secrets that we needed to know, but couldn't risk others finding out."
I didn't want to get into this discussion with Enorah. It would be like tearing open a long-healed scar to examine the wound, but then again, she had mentioned it and I was curious. I decided not to delve too deeply, though.
"Wasn't she worried you would simply tell her secrets out of spite?"
Enorah shook her head and her eyes grew dark. For a few moments, I felt the cold of the early morning. My sister hadn't had that look in her eyes since . . . Well, it had been a very long time since she'd let the ghosts that haunted her out for others to see.
"She had her ways of keeping us loyal," Enorah finally murmured, her focus now aimed at something next to my pack, her whole presence seeming to have shifted somewhere else.
The silence of the forest pressing down on us grated at me. I was weary of discussing dark memories, so I struggled to stand up, my sister lending me a hand.
"Although I obviously didn't enjoy the situation that brought me here, I'm glad I came." I gave Enorah my best smile and draped an arm over her shoulder.
She sniffed. "It would do us both good for you to visit more often. It's not like you live very far away. Well, by dolmarehn travel that is."
By the time we reached the village square, many of the other Wildren had risen and were going about their morning chores. Someone had started a fire in the circle of stones in the town's center, and a few others were filling a great cauldron with water and dry oats.
"Ah, oatmeal! A common commodity around these parts," Enorah chirped.
After breakfast was ready, we all sat down to our meal, finding whatever fallen log or patch of soft earth that best suited our tastes. Of course, I was prevailed upon to tell my tale. Whenever I visited Enorah in the Weald, the many children she and the older Faelorehn looked after insisted on a story. Sometimes I wondered if Enorah grossly exaggerated the deeds of her brother while I was away. That morning, I gave them an even more abridged version of my dealings with the Morrigan, saying only that I had crossed her in some way and she was angry with me.
"And that, children, is why we stay close to the village until the full potential of our glamour is met," Enorah said sharply as she rose and started gathering dirty bowls.
Several small eyes widened.
"So," one small child, a boy no older than six, said, "what'd you do to make the goddess so angry?"
I looked at him, then glanced at Enorah. She had straightened up from her task, her eyes empty of any joy, her stance wary but relaxed. I took a deep breath and then turned back to the child. He had a smudge of dirt on his chin and his pale brown eyes darkened to mahogany as he awaited my answer. I felt my lips curve in a small smile.
"She wanted me to hurt someone, and I refused."
The boy blinked and chewed on his lip as his brow furrowed. I could almost hear his brain working away. Eventually, he looked up again and pointed at one of the fading bruises on my face.
"But she hurt you," he exclaimed.
I nodded. One couldn't argue with the truth.
"Yes, she did, but it would have hurt me even more here," I placed a closed fist over my heart, "if I had obeyed her."
This time the boy didn't have to think about his response. He simply nodded, then picked up a stick to poke at the earth. "I know what you mean," he said quietly.
My heart clenched and I shot my eyes toward Enorah. She only returned my question unanswered; she didn't know what had happened to this boy before he came to live with them in the Weald. I lifted my hand and placed it gently on the boy's shoulder. He tensed and came very close to flinching, but when he looked back up at me he relaxed a little. Poor youngling. So many of the Wildren had come from neglect and abuse. I wondered what this child's story was.
"Alright, enough story telling!" Enorah shouted. "Let's get the rest of breakfast cleaned up, so the younger children can play and the rest of us can get to work on our lessons."
The smallest of the Wildren surrounding us cheered while the older ones groaned. Those who had grown past childhood, maybe fifteen or twenty adults, moved between the children, reminding them that they had a reading lesson to finish or could use a few more hours of archery practice. I listened as the reluctant students shuffled around, scraping bowls and putting out the fire, grumbling about being cooped up in a cabin with a history book when the younger children got to chase imaginary faelah through the stream. I had to work hard to keep from laughing.
I remembered the time when I was in their place.
The fog was finally giving way to sunshine once we had all the dishes cleaned and packed away. A few of the older children lingered, passing homemade balls back and forth with their younger companions, while their teachers continued to scold them. The cauldron hung drying over the doused coals and a great tendril of smoke curled up from where the fire used to be.
I was about to find Enorah and see if she wanted me to help with any of the training for the older Wildren when something on the edge of the forest caught my eye. A white stag, silent as the spirits of old, stepped gracefully from behind a large beech tree and headed toward the village square. As the children noticed it, they gave up their chase games, their shouts and cheers of delight ceasing. It was as if a wave of silence and stillness followed the buck, overcoming the Wildren and forcing them to bend to its will.
Getting over the initial shock of seeing the creature, I blinked a few times and sought out Enorah. She was several feet away from me on the other side of the fire pit, and it was clear she was under the same spell as the children.
Once he reached the center of village, the stag stopped his progress. His nostrils flared and he shook his head, his many-spindled antlers piercing the air. That's when I noticed the color of his ears.
"He's a spirit guide, Enorah," I said as loudly as I dared.
The stag turned and gazed at me with deep, dark brown eyes. He inclined his head toward Enorah, exposing the side of his neck to me. A pale leather pouch with silver buckles was fastened there.
"Enorah." I waved her over and pointed out the pouch.
My sister swallowed back her unease and nodded. It was never a good idea to approach a wild stag, but it was obvious this one had a message to deliver. I was only hoping that he didn't gore my sister with those antlers.
Carefully, Enorah undid the buckle keeping the bag shut and drew out a piece of parchment. She refastened the latch just as carefully and took several steps back before bothering to read what she had found. Her eyes moved swiftly across the paper, and I was itching to know what it said. Finally, she dropped the parchment and turned her head toward the spirit guide.
"Thank you," she murmured. "Tell your master we will take a few days to consider his request. We will meet him in front of the Tree of Life with our response at noon three days from now."
The white stag bowed his head ever so slightly, his rusty colored ears twitching, then turned and bound out of the village. The children gaped in awe as he disappeared into the forest and I turned to Enorah, my arms crossed and my face full of inquiry. She gave me one of her looks and gestured for me to follow her. The other questions sent her way by the Wildren were ignored.
"Go back to your studies and your play," she called over her shoulder, "this business doesn't concern you."
As the curious onlookers shuffled off in disappointment, Enorah strode briskly to a stone cabin tucked away in a small alcove on the other side of the stream. Hemmed in by a rocky wall on one side and a sparse thicket of aspen trees on the other, my sister's personal place of refuge resembled the image of a cozy fairy retreat often found on greeting cards in the mortal world. Yanking the door open with more force than necessary, Enorah stepped back and waited for me to enter. The scent of forest herbs and something unique only to my sister greeted me as I entered the tidy room. A small kitchen and fireplace rested against one curved wall while a staircase on the opposite side led up to what I assumed was Enorah's room. The three windows on the first floor were remarkably clean, and from the one perched over the sink I could see the creek and the rest of the village beyond.
The sound of the door closing behind me drew my attention back to Enorah. She strode over to a square wooden table and pulled out one of the chairs.
"Sit," she instructed.
Too curious to learn what the parchment said to be annoyed at her demanding tone, I complied, the chair's legs creaking under my weight.
Enorah pulled out the chair opposite me and threw herself down as if the weight of the world was placed upon her shoulders.
"That bad, huh?"
She glared at me, but soon her annoyance was replaced with concern.
I simply leaned back and crossed my arms, lifting one eyebrow in question.
"The message is from Cernunnos," she said, flicking the paper across the table so that it landed in front of me. "The sovereign of the Weald needs a favor."
Immediately, I abandoned my casual stance. I leaned in, snatched the message up in my hand and started to read:
Enorah of the Weald,
I am in need of yours and your brother's assistance in a matter much disturbing to me and the denizens of the Weald. It seems as if a bothersome creature has slipped into Eile from another realm and is causing the fair women of Amsihr trouble even they cannot handle. I need a group of warriors to travel to the Amsihr Mountains and purge the region of this monstrosity. The Amsihria hold a special place in my heart, so I am eager to find a solution to their woes. Should you accept this challenge and come out victorious, a favor will be granted to you.
-Cernunnos, Lord of the Wild
I finished reading the message and glanced up at Enorah. "The weather-tamers? What could possibly be causing them so much trouble that they can't take care of it themselves?"
Enorah rolled her eyes at me. "They placate thunderstorms Caedehn. Not all of us have the gift of riastrad."
"I wouldn't necessarily call my battle fury a gift," I muttered.
I glanced back at the letter. The Amsihria hold a special place in my heart. I sneered and said dryly, "Of course he has a special place in his heart for the Amsihria. All those impressionable young women living up in that mountain cave, alone?"
"Caedehn," Enorah sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, "their work effects all of us, you know that. If they didn't sit up on that mountaintop and ease Eile's fury, then she would destroy all of us with one of her storms."
"A monstrosity from another realm," I mused, moving the conversation in another direction. "So, not one of the Morrigan's creations."
"Apparently not," Enorah grumbled.
She glanced back up at me, her pale eyes threatening to go dark again. "We can tell him our answer is no."
I shook my head, ready to respond when my sister kept going. "You have just suffered gods know what at the hands of the Morrigan. If you'd just swallow your pride and tell me exactly what happened, then maybe we could formulate a more suitable decision."
I snapped my teeth together and glared at her. "What happens between me and my mother is no one else's business Enorah, not even yours."
Enorah actually jerked back in her chair, surprise replacing the worry on her face.
Instantly, I regretted my short temper. It had little to do with her and much more to do with the lingering pain in my back and the worry for Meghan that loitered in the dark recesses of my mind. Oh, and the fear that the Morrigan would attack me with her foul thoughts at any moment in the day.
"I'm sorry, Enorah, but you must trust me in that I know what I can handle."
She nodded and relaxed, though she didn't look wholly convinced.
"In a few days I'll be much better, I promise."
And that was the truth. The only ache I still felt from the Morrigan's punishment remained in the welts on my back, and even that was fading.
Enorah leaned forward on her elbows and laced her fingers together. "It could be anything, Cade."
"I know," I said, "but he is willing to grant us a favor. How often does the god of the Wild give out favors?"
"This is the first time I've heard of it," she admitted.
"Besides, I need something to distract me from my thoughts right now."
Enorah grew very still. "Has the Morrigan tormented you since this morning?"
I shook my head. "No, but it is only a matter of time before she invades my thoughts again." I tapped the parchment with two fingers. "I think a task of this merit will be good for me."
My sister shivered as she opened the door.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just the thought of meeting Cernunnos in person . . . I mean, I've seen him before, but he's never invited me to speak with him."
My sister smiled softly and her eyelids drooped.
"Oh no," I growled, "you will not let Cernunnos charm you. You deserve better than that."
Enorah cast me a poisonous look and chortled. "Cade, really. Do you honestly take me for the weak, swooning type? Trust me, I won't let him 'charm' me, as you call it."
She stepped through the door, not even bothering to wait for me to follow.
"No, dear sister," I muttered after her, "it's the lecherous god that I don't trust, not you."
Five
Cernunnos
The next few days passed by swiftly. My bruises had faded almost completely, the welts on my back no longer burned and I could feel the full force of my glamour pulsing through my blood.
On the day Enorah and I were to meet Cernunnos, she introduced me to two young men and a young woman she planned on taking with us should we accept Cernunnos's challenge.
"We'll need more help if we are to face a creature the Amsihria cannot vanquish on their own. I mean, your battle fury is very impressive Cade, but five fighters are better than two."
I huffed a laugh. "You don't have to tell me Enorah. I know from personal experience the advantage of numbers in battle."
We met in the center of town and Enorah introduced us all.
"Cade, this is Fenrah, Rhyne and Devlin."
She gestured toward a young woman with black hair and dark eyes, and two young blond men. The younger man, Rhyne, had grey eyes while the one who looked a few years older had blue eyes.
"Everyone, this is Cade."
I gave a slight nod of my head as the three other members of our party did the same.
"Fenrah is our best archer and has the eyes of an eagle."
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