Merrick hardly noticed them. “I canna risk any more magic to get us to the coast, Jenny. Moghire will have to get us there.”
“Why the coast?” she asked, her elation at staying with Merrick overshadowed by her bewilderment over all that had happened, and what he meant to do next.
“’Tis our only entry to the portal that will take us to Coruain.”
“Is there a ship? Or…”
“No, moileen. We must swim.”
Jenny’s blood ran cold. She turned to face him fully as they rode through the streets toward Caldewgate. “I cannot swim, Merrick.”
“Doona worry, lass. I’ll get you to the Astar Columns.”
“What about Pakal?” who was her more immediate concern. She would worry about Astar Columns—whatever they were—when they got there.
“He can trace us only through my magic—”
“You mean those tiny, dancing sparks you threw around Reverend Usher?”
He looked dumbfounded at her words. “You saw them? The sparks?”
“Of course.”
“Mo oirg, Jenny. What else do you see?”
“Threads. Silvery—”
“Ainchis, moileen. You are a hunter!”
The Isle of Coruain, 981
There was an ominous lull in Pakal’s attack. Ana sensed the power of only a few Odhar assaulting the protective shield. ’Twas more worrisome than a full bombardment, for it meant that Eilinora and Pakal were utterly confident of their success. She dreaded the moment when she would learn that her cousins had been discovered and the brìgha-stones lost to their enemies.
Yet that could not possibly be. She knew that Merrick would return to defeat the Odhar with the sorceress who was destined to become his céile mate.
The prophecy could not be wrong. Merrick and Brogan had to succeed.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of her pallet. Cianán lay sleeping on a nearby sofa, while Liam watched the heavy clouds that moved sluggishly across the gray-green sky. It had been a week since they’d seen the sun, a week since Ana’s cousins had gone on their quest.
The bruises on her legs remained, but they would heal on their own, or Rónán would heal them when there was time. Gingerly, she took to her feet, but was reluctant to take a step. She closed her eyes and held still, relishing the moment of relative peace.
The sound of quiet voices brought her to attention, and she looked to the door of the great hall just as Brogan walked through, wearing Tuath clothes, and hanging on to the hand of a beautiful stranger with long, disheveled auburn hair.
So surprised was Ana, she could not speak. But Brogan came to her and swept her into his arms. “Ach, wee Ana, you’ve no’ had an easy time of it, have you?”
“Brogan!” She found herself weeping with relief and joy. “I was so worried.”
“And taxed to the limit, by the look of you.” He set her down and extended his hand to the young woman who remained near the door. “We’ve got the blood stone, Ana.”
The lovely stranger opened her hand, and Ana saw the red stone, glowing brightly. She did not understand.
“She is Sarah, my céile mate,” said Brogan.
“You found her in…in…”
“In England, aye. She had the stone. After all my searching—”
“You are welcome here, Sarah céile Mac Lochlainn,” said Ana, taking Sarah’s hand and greeting her in the Druzai fashion.
Carlisle, March 1826
Jenny and Merrick crossed the bridge and rode past the workhouse. “Merrick,” she said, and the sound of his true name from her lips was pleasing to his ears. “I don’t understand you. I have never hunted.”
’Twas not easy to converse as Moghire carried them swiftly to the western edge of town, but he was anxious to learn more about her. She had seen the sparks created when he’d used his magic on Usher—yet she had not gone through the usual process of hunters. His brother was one of that breed, and Merrick knew that Brogan did some shifting of reality in order to hunt. Brogan said hunting made him vulnerable because he could not see the physical world except in vague shadows.
Yet Jenny had done naught but look. It raised many questions in Merrick’s mind.
“Moileen, who were your parents?”
“Charlotte and Simon Keating, of Windermere.”
“What more do you know of them? Were they Druzai?”
“Of course not,” she replied, turning to give him a puzzled look. “They were not…magicians.”
Merrick let the word slide. Druzai were not magicians, and Jenny would soon find that out.
Her mother had possessed the brìgha-stone. And Jenny was a hunter without knowing it. Was it possible that her ancestors had been some of the Druzai who’d remained in Tuath, and had somehow forgotten their heritage over the ages? Merrick could not imagine how, but it seemed the only explanation.
He pulled her back against him and spoke into her healthy ear. “Sibh ar mèinn, moileen.” First and foremost, he could take her to Coruain. She might not be a fully developed sorceress, but she was Druzai, and she was a hunter. As soon as they reached the water’s edge and dismounted, he would ask her to become his wife, his mate for life. ’Twas only right that she make her own decision before he took her to the Astar Columns and away from everything that was familiar to her.
“What will those sparks do to Reverend Usher?” she asked.
“The sparks themselves will do naught. They’re merely traces of the spell I conjured. But the spell will compel the headmaster to visit the magistrate at Kirtwarren.”
“Why?”
“Even now, Usher feels driven to confess his ill deeds, all of them, no matter how small.” Though Merrick would have preferred to mete out a harsh and humiliating punishment of his own, he still believed that subtlety was best. He had to be satisfied with knowing Bresland’s headmaster would receive a grim Tuath penalty.
He felt Jenny’s hands tighten over his own. “He’ll hang.”
Merrick shrugged, unconcerned. He had come close to killing the man with his own hands. “That may be so.”
They rode in silence until long after they’d left the city. Merrick slowed at one point to take his bearings and to see if he could get a whiff of the sea. Once he decided on their course, he turned Moghire to face Carlisle. “Jenny, look back. Do you see any sparks?”
“Only a few. But they’re far back.”
“None close to us, though?”
She shook her head, but Merrick did not rest easy. The Odhar had to know they were headed for the sea, and even though he and Jenny were well ahead of them, he did not want to leave a clear trail to follow.
He quickly turned them to a northwesterly path and gave Moghire his head. Galloping across flat fields, Merrick was mindful of the urgency to get through the Astar Columns, back to the relative safety of Coruain. He could not count on help from Jenny. Though he was certain she was Druzai, he doubted she had ever learned to wield her lòchran. She knew no charms or spells. ’Twas even possible she did not possess any Druzai power beyond her ability to see magic.
It did not matter. He loved her and hoped she would welcome his request that she leave Tuath and become his wife in Coruain.
Jenny was terrified. It was only because of Merrick’s strong arms around her and his solid body behind her that she managed to keep from dissolving into a puddle of nerves. The swift ride on the back of the white gelding was frightening enough, but there were so many questions. In spite of their rapid flight across the countryside, she had to ask. “Who is Pakal?”
“We will speak of him later, moileen.”
It was impossible to talk while riding at break-neck speed, but curiosity bedeviled her. “What about my locket?”
“The stone inside is a powerful talisman,” he replied loudly, in order to be heard above the wind. “’Tis our only weapon against Pakal.”
He pulled her tight against him. “As soon as we reach the sea, I will tell you more.”
He
kicked his heels into Moghire’s sides, and the steed hurtled forward at an even greater speed than before. The galloping hooves rattled her teeth, and the cold wind blew through her hair, but Merrick’s body warmed her and kept her secure.
She felt the locket under her bodice, resting between her breasts. It had glowed in her hand, creating a painful heat, but when she’d directed its light at Pakal, she’d seen fiery red needles shooting out like projectiles. They’d done some damage to him, but not enough to disable him completely.
She wished she’d had a chance to use the dark red stone on him once again before Merrick had whisked her away from that ashen place. If she had, perhaps they would not need to be galloping so desperately now.
“Pakal reminds me of a picture I once saw,” she said, although her voice did not compete well with the jostling of their gallop, and the wind at their faces. “He looks like a native of the Americas.”
“Americas?” He sounded as though he’d never heard of the Western continents.
Jenny nodded, and decided to explain later.
Finally, the beach came into sight and Merrick brought Moghire to a slow trot. They looked for signs of pursuers, and saw none, but Jenny did not believe they would be safe for long.
Neither did Merrick. “I doona know the extent of Pakal’s powers, Jenny. He might well have another way of finding us. He located Eilinora, after all.”
“Who is Eilinora? Is she the red-haired lady we saw in the Gypsy’s globe?”
“Ach, moileen,” he said. “There is so much you doona know. The red-haired lass is my cousin, Ana. She is home in Coruain, but desperate for the return of the blood stones.”
She touched the locket under her dress.
“Aye, you carry one of the stones of power. Eilinora is a powerful sorceress, an enemy of the Druzai. Pakal freed her from her prison, a bòcan forest like the one—”
“That horrible, gray, murky place?”
“Aye. She escaped and somehow found a way to Coruain. She killed my father and stole his scepter…”
“Oh, Merrick, I am so terribly sorry for your loss,” she said, reaching up to caress his cheek.
He covered her hand with his own. “Pakal is unknown to us…who he is…whence he came…But he and Eilinora stole the Druzai chieftain’s scepter from my father’s dead hands. ’Tis a powerful talisman used for the good of our people.”
“But Eilinora?”
“In her possession, ’tis a powerful weapon.”
“And my locket holds a special stone that fires red needles wherever it’s aimed.”
“Red needles?”
She nodded. “When I touched it…when I held it up near Pakal, it shot some kind of bright, fiery projectiles. Maybe they were not needles. Didn’t you see them?”
“No, Jenny. Only you. And hunters like you.”
They rode to the edge of the water and dismounted, and Merrick lifted Jenny down. Standing on the dry sand, he took her hands in his. “We havena much time, but I must ask you now, before…”
He kissed her knuckles and looked at the woman he’d chosen for his céile mate. She was no noble sorceress like Ana, or even Sinann, but an untrained fledgling whose skills were unknown. Yet she was the one whose soul spoke to his. He would have no other.
“Jenny lass, I love you. My world is verra different from yours, but I want you to join me in Coruain as my céile mate, my consort. My wife.”
His heart clenched uneasily when she did not reply immediately. “I’ve given you little reason to trust me, moileen. Nor has anyone else in your—”
She stopped him with her fingers against his lips, and spoke quietly, unsteadily. “Yes, Merrick, I’ll come with you, wherever we must go.”
His heart rebounded. “I willna leave you, moileen. You must trust that I’ll always care for you as I do now.” He drew her into his arms and held her tightly, aware that he asked much of her.
She leaned slightly back and looked up at him with an expression of wonder in her eyes. “I…I believe you.”
He kissed her softly. “That’s my brave Jenny. I will prove myself worthy of you.”
He felt her tremulous sigh. Hoping to reassure her, he kept her hand in his and turned to Moghire. He spoke in his own familiar language, and the horse whinnied and shook his head, then turned and cantered away south.
“Where is he going, Merrick?”
“I sent him back to the Gypsies. They will care for him and give him the respect he deserves.”
Jenny did not watch Moghire depart, but turned and faced the sea, eyeing the water nervously.
“We must enter the sea, moileen, but the spell I cast will take us safely to the Astar Columns.”
“Are they in Coruain?”
“Jenny, I must take you back through time. Nearly a thousand years in your past. ’Tis through the Astar Columns that we must pass in order to return to my time and place.”
She said naught.
“Doona go so pale, lass. I will take care of you.”
“No, I…Do you feel it?”
“What is it, lass?”
“The air is shimmering. They’re coming.”
He saw them then, Eilinora’s minions, coming toward them on foot, their hazy features becoming clearer as they came closer. They sent bolts of lòchran at Merrick and Jenny, and he managed to shield them from the attack. Jenny clutched his arm, but his attention had to remain fully on their protection. One gap in their defenses could be fatal.
“’Tis Pakal!” she whispered.
Merrick saw him coming toward them across the beach. The strange sorcerer was an unknown entity—Merrick did not know the extent of his power. “Jenny. Hang on to me, no matter what.” He had to do something unexpected, and do it quickly, else he would not be able to get them to the Astar Columns. He wasn’t sure if Pakal had access to his own portal to Coruain, or if he’d even been part of the actual attack upon Kieran. But he did not want the painted sorcerer to follow them.
“Jenny!” he shouted when he felt her let go of his arm. She turned abruptly and faced Pakal. Merrick saw the chain of her locket caught up in her fingers and knew she had it—and the stone—hidden in her hand.
Holding Kieran’s scepter, Pakal opened his arms as though he intended to embrace them, but Jenny raised her arm and opened her hand. A bright, red light that even Merrick could see swirled ’round them, creating a vicious wind that crippled the Odhar where they stood. Small, bloody gashes appeared on their bodies, and Merrick realized they were being hit by the needles Jenny had described. They fell, each one disintegrating into a dense, red powder.
Pakal crouched down to the ground, then laid himself flat in an attempt to avoid the fiery red eruption that came from the glowing stone in Jenny’s hand.
Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she grimaced as though the effort of wielding the stone caused her pain.
“Can you keep it up, moileen?”
She gave him a brief nod, clearly unwilling to break her concentration, but they could not defeat Pakal with just one stone.
Before the painted sorcerer had a chance to mount his own attack, Merrick conjured a filmy sea barrier to encase them like a silken cocoon, which would protect them in the water. Moving fast, he drew Jenny into the surf. “Command the stone to keep up the attack after we’re gone.”
“Merrick, I don’t know how!”
“Put your mind to it, Jenny. Make it so.” Trusting that she could do it instinctively, he pulled her into deeper water and dived down, quickly saying the words that would take them to the Astar Columns. He hoped the brìgha-stone would keep Pakal occupied for the few minutes it would take to get there and pass through the portal, for he did not want to risk a battle so far beneath the sea.
Jenny quivered in his arms, and he lifted her chin with one finger and kissed her, pouring all that he felt for her into his kiss. She was everything to him, and he knew now that he would have abdicated his position as high chieftain if she had refused to leave Tuath. Life
without her would be untenable.
Her arms slid ’round him, and when she opened to him, Merrick felt a shifting of his physical body to his sòlas being. They began to merge just as they reached the coldest depths of the Coruain Sea.
Merrick broke away, shaken by the strength of their connection. With no more than a kiss, they’d nearly come to sòlas. “Ach, lass. What you do to me,” he said, his voice raspy and hollow.
The Astar Columns came into sight. Holding tightly to Jenny, he said the words that would take them through, and swam between the columns. Lòchran crackled from one column to the other, barely touching their bodies through the protective field Merrick maintained for them. ’Twas a much easier way to traverse time and space, than going unshielded by magic as Merrick and Brogan had had to do when leaving Coruain.
When the passage was complete, Merrick pushed off the seabed and propelled them to the surface. He felt Jenny panic and start to struggle inside their cocoon. He held her securely. “Almost there, moileen.”
He summoned a wealrach, one of the mighty birds that hunted in the cliffs and waters of the bay. Jenny clenched her arms ’round his neck when the heavily scaled bird dropped down onto the surface of the water beside them, and extended its massive wings. “Doona fear, lass. ’Twill take us home.”
He helped her grab hold of its wing, then scramble up onto its back. Merrick followed and took his place behind her, all at once circling her waist with his arms, and commanding the bird to carry them to Coruain House. Dispensing with the sea barrier, he spoke to the wealrach, then to Jenny. “He willna let you fall, moileen. Try to rest easy.”
The wealrach took a flying leap from the water, and Jenny grabbed Merrick’s arms. “’Tis my home, Jenny,” he said, very glad to see the mountains and vales of the isle, but deadly worried when he saw flashes of lòchran light attempting to penetrate through the odd, gray-green skies. ’Twas clear that all was not well.
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