Dermot finally slowed to a stop, and Brenn dashed the memories away. You cannot dwell on the past, or you will not get through what matters this day, he chastised himself. Rori is counting on you.
Brenn clamped down on his emotions and began to familiarize himself with his surroundings. There was the massive tree, encompassed by a small circle of standing stones, most likely placed there by the local Druids over the years to keep the tree healthy in its old age. Located along the outer circle of monoliths were more standing stones, these ones taller and broader than those surrounding the tree. Brenn narrowed his eyes to count them. The larger stones stood ten feet or more and were placed in the crooks of the roadways. Three thinner, shorter stones formed quarter circles behind them. There were sixteen in all, four in each corner, and although Brenn had seen them before on the day he had been taken, they seemed to stand out even more today.
Perhaps, it has something to do with the low mist, he mused. It had stopped snowing, but the creeping fog had gathered in this low spot.
He and Seren were still a good fifty yards from the first set of stones, but Brenn couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of dread surrounding him. He knew it was natural for him to feel this way, but his instincts told him there was something else about this place that wasn’t quite right.; something sinister and dark. His faeduhn magic pricked its ears, like a dog listening for the silent footfalls of a hare hiding in the thicket.
Steeling himself, Brenn encouraged Dermot to move forward once again. As the giant horse stepped into the great circle where the two roads met, a deep, familiar voice called out, “That is far enough, Brennon Roarke.”
Brenn immediately tensed, and Seren sucked in a breath behind him but said nothing. She had been so still and quiet up until this moment that Brenn had almost forgotten about her. The sound of the voice, Uscias’ voice, had come from across the way, the corner to the right where the standing stones disappeared into the low fog. It was hard to tell, but Brenn guessed the Druid was crouching behind the second row of stones, using them as a cover. Brenn let some of his glamour unfurl, directing it outward like invisible fingers creeping over the earth. When it reached the first standing stone, it met with strong resistance. Brenn grunted with irritation. Uscias had already primed the stones’ magic to answer to him, and at the moment he was using the monoliths as glamour-infused shields. He gritted his teeth and tried not to let the feeling of defeat overwhelm him. Trying to use his manipulative glamour now would be like trying to swim against a strong tide.
Dwelling on negative thoughts would get Brennon nowhere, so he forced them from his mind and focused on the reason he and Seren were there.
“Where is Rori?” he asked, projecting his voice so the Druid was certain to hear him.
“He is unharmed, but unfortunately, currently out of reach.”
There was far too much gloating humor in his voice, and Brenn wanted to take his glamour and crack the Druid’s head open like an egg. But he couldn’t do that. Not until he had Rori in his arms, and Seren pulled tight against his side. Not until his loved ones were out of harm’s way.
“Brennon,” Seren breathed behind him. “Look.”
Her voice was quiet, a sad whisper just behind him, and he was suddenly terrified to glance in the direction her finger pointed. But he did so anyway, and felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. There, halfway up the tree and held in place by many layers of rope, was a small figure with blond hair. Rori. His head was slumped forward, his chin resting against his chest, and he wasn’t moving.
White hot rage burned through him, and his glamour flared, making Seren gasp and remove her arms from around his torso. Dermot whickered nervously and began to back away from the tree.
“Do not fret, my dear boy,” Uscias growled, in that gravelly voice of his, “the child is not dead. I gave him a sleeping draught and chanted a spell of silence over him. I thought it best he not be conscious for what is to come.”
Brennon battened down his rage and glamour as he brought Dermot under control.
“I’m getting off the horse,” he hissed at Seren.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he reached up for her, pulling her down beside him. Seren didn’t have time to assure him she was ready to help. All she could do was squeeze his hand as he reached up and pulled a scabbard from Dermot’s back. Brenn then turned and headed toward the stones opposite them, not even bothering to check if Seren was following. He knew she would be a hand’s breadth behind him.
Brenn pulled the sword from its sheath, holding it out before him in a well-practiced guard the soldiers of the Morrigan had taught him. Seren had been surprised to see the sword at first, since Brennon kept it hidden away in the bottom of the trunk at the end of his bed, but she hadn’t said a word when he’d strapped it securely to Dermot’s saddle before leaving Ardun.
Now, as Brenn walked through the strange icy mist toward the malevolent presence of his enemy, his longsword brandished before him, he felt himself falling back into the pattern and habits of his life as a fighter. His feet moved more smoothly over the ground, his breathing and heartbeat grew even. Brenn’s glamour continued to probe the space surrounding the massive oak, seeking out danger and weak points, but he kept some of it swirling around him and Seren to act as a shield of sorts.
Seren carefully placed a hand upon his back, causing him to pause for just a heartbeat. Brenn let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and continued forward once again. Her welcome touch was both comforting and disconcerting. More than anything in the world, he had wanted to leave her back at Ardun, safe and sound and far away from this danger he now approached. But he needed her, and she needed his faith and trust. Leaving her behind would have gone against everything he had tried to build with her the night before. If he wanted her to be a part of his life, and he wanted that as much as he wanted to retrieve Rori and return home, then he needed to have faith in Seren’s strength. Besides, he was certain she would have followed him anyway.
Steeling himself, Brenn took long, deep breaths of the frozen air and tried not to think about Seren or Rori tied to the tree far above them. He cleared his head and let his senses take over. Immediately, he felt the bone-deep cold working its way into his skin, heard the crunch of snow and ice beneath his boots, sensed the comfortable weight of the sword in his hands, listened to the subtle sounds of Dermot breathing and nosing at the snow … He delved deeper, closing his eyes so his other senses could work better. So he would not be distracted by the illusion sight often caused. This had not been a trick he’d learned from the Morrigan and her minions. This had been something Rori had taught him on a daily basis: how the boy could hear a swarm of bees approaching before Brenn could see them, or how he could smell smoke in the distance and know from which direction it came before his uncle spotted the dark smudge rising above the horizon. It never ceased to amaze him how, although Rori was blind, he could sense so much more without his eyes.
“When I could still see, I missed so much of the important stuff,” the boy, in his advanced wisdom, had told his uncle one day. “Sometimes, it’s so much better to feel or to listen than to see.”
Brenn thought back to that moment now, as it played vividly across his mind. He had watched as Rori reached out a small hand to caress the nose of their young foal, and then, its mother’s. The horses were always at ease around Rori, but the mare, usually a gentle spirit, had been more aggressive with Brennon after the foal was born. He had chalked it up as her mother’s instincts kicking in and hadn’t held it against her. But it hadn’t been like that with Rori. When Brenn found his nephew in the stall with the mare and her foal a day after the young horse was born, he had been in a panic. Only when he got closer did he realize the three of them were down for a nap, the mare snoozing gently, her legs tucked under her. The foal and Rori, nestled against the horse’s side, were fast asleep. Brenn had been baffled, until he watched them together later that day. Rori was always touching both the mare and the foal
, because he had to in order to make his way around. But it was because of that touch, the horse could sense his intentions.
A loud cracking sound snapped Brenn out of his reflection, his eyes flying open.
“Sorry,” Seren whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
She must have stepped on a dead branch. Brennon tried once again to shake off his nerves. Despite the sudden spike of his heart rate, he was grateful to Seren for her carelessness. He had told himself not to dwell on his nephew, and yet, that’s exactly where his thoughts had gone. Rori may be unharmed now, but even with the wool blankets wrapped around him, he was far too exposed to the elements in the tree. The sooner Brenn dealt with the Corcorains and Uscias, the better.
Wanting to stay focused, Brenn glanced up to gauge their progress. They had moved within a few yards of the tree. Despite its lack of leaves, the thick, tangled branches above cast a mantel of pale twilight over them. With the dim light, creeping fog and silent standing stones, Brenn felt as if he were sneaking through a graveyard. Doing his best to shake the unease from his mind, Brenn turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the four stones just ahead of them. Uscias, and most likely Baird, were on the other side of the farthest monoliths. He sensed two pools of concentrated glamour there, one clearly tainted by the other. Master and apprentice.
“Do not approach any closer,” a masculine voice, not Uscias’, rang out against the cold damp.
Brenn clenched his teeth, and Seren made a small noise. Yes, that was definitely Baird he’d detected.
“Come out, you worthless cowards!” Brenn retorted, straightening up and checking the grip on his sword.
He felt more than noticed Seren inch away from him, just far enough to give him space to move. Brenn tried casting his glamour out again. Now that he was closer, he was able to maneuver around the standing stones’ magic a little better. He brushed against Uscias glamour, his Druid’s power pulsing around him like the hot pain of an infected wound. Baird’s was not too far from his master’s. With a bit more effort, Brenn discovered a third well of glamour. He felt his lip curling in disgust. They were so predictable, these enemies of his. Despite the promise of danger and violence, Arlana clearly didn’t want to miss out on the fun, either.
Knowing there had to be more than just the three of them, Brenn cast his glamour out even farther. He made a full sweep of the area, and felt a headache coming on when he finished his perusal. It had cost him, but it had been worth it. He now knew what he and Seren were up against.
Detecting his pain, Seren moved in closer and put a hand on his arm. Warmth suffused Brennon’s skin, and the pounding in his head lessened. Without taking his eyes from the stones ahead of him, Brenn hooked his left arm around Seren and pulled her close, pressing his mouth against her temple in a gesture he hoped passed as a kiss. He may not be able to see through the fog, but he would be a fool to think the Druid couldn’t.
Using shil-sciar, he whispered into her mind, Baird, Uscias and Arlana are straight ahead, behind those standing stones. There are also four archers, one behind each of the largest stones at the corners of the crossroads. Fewer than I thought. Uscias has made a huge mistake. He is relying too heavily on the glamour of the stones. He thinks it will thwart my own. It can’t. It will only make it more difficult, not impossible.
Seren curled her fists into his shirt. And you have me to aid you, she sent.
Brenn smiled. It was a bitter smile, for he knew that although they had a slight advantage, there was no guarantee this day would end as he hoped it would.
“Give us the girl, and we will leave. You can climb up and untie the boy once we have the Fahndi woman,” Uscias called out.
“And what’s to stop me from simply climbing up there now and taking him, and Seren, back home with me?” Brenn retorted, wondering what the Druid’s answer would be.
A cold laugh rolled through the bleak mist. “Do you think I came here alone? The mist is thick this winter’s day, and it works in my favor. You are surrounded by armed men who will take you down with one word from me. You may be able to seize minds and control them, but you must have your limits, and I highly doubt you can take control of all of us at once. As soon as you do, those who slip from your grasp are under orders to shoot you where you stand. Then, I will have the woman and the boy.”
“We,” Baird grumbled irritably. “We will have the woman and the boy. Though I don’t care about the boy, I wouldn’t mind having the woman.”
There was a carnal undertone to Baird’s voice that made Brenn’s blood boil. Imagining Seren at the mercy of Baird Corcorain had his parasitic faeduhn magic ready to take control of the situation and smite everyone with a single flicker of thought. And he could do it; use the dark glamour to enhance his own power, crushing the minds of his enemies without ever having to lift a finger. It was tempting, so very tempting, to end this now. But to succumb to that temptation was to hand his soul over, once and for all.
If there is any chance of me making it out of this with my spirit intact, then I must be careful, Brenn reminded himself.
He took a very slow, deliberate breath, forcing the anger at Baird’s words to dissipate. Instead, he pictured using his gift to send his enemy running into the closest standing stone over and over again until he battered himself to death. A cruel smile pulled at the corner of Brenn’s mouth. Oh yes. Baird would get his comeuppance before the day was through.
Seren let out a soft snort. If he thinks he’ll ever have any power over me again, he is sorely mistaken, she sent.
Brenn glanced over his shoulder only to find her blazing brown eyes fixed on the standing stone hiding Baird and Uscias.
For I am no longer afraid to use mine.
For a split second, the warmth radiating from Seren’s fingertips flared, causing Brenn to gasp. It was as if someone had pressed a hot brand to his skin.
Seren’s eyes darted up to his, their color darkening as she whispered across his mind, Sorry. That wasn’t meant to escape my control.
Brenn gave her a quick nod, fighting the desire to rub at the small burning patches of skin on his arm. He drew in a deep breath and let it out quickly, his muscles tensing as he gathered his mind back into focus. The four of them had been standing in the middle of the crossroads for several minutes now, bantering back and forth like school children afraid to follow through with their threats. Rori was unconscious, tied up in a tree twenty feet off the ground. Brenn had no idea how long he’d been up there. It could have been an hour, or it could’ve been since yesterday afternoon.
Brennon clenched his jaw and tightened his fingers around the grip of his sword. He couldn’t wait much longer. If he was to act, he needed to start gathering his glamour now. He pulled the searching tendrils of his magic back to him while releasing more of it in a steady stream. Soon, Brenn could sense a dense, viscous pool of energy forming beside his heart. He breathed in through his nose and allowed some of his focus to return to his surroundings. Seren was motionless and silent, her fingers still in contact with Brenn’s skin. Baird and Uscias, however, had worked themselves into an argument.
“The woman goes to the Morrigan!” Uscias hissed. “You have an entire town full of willing females waiting for you when this is over. If we hand the Fahndi abomination over to the goddess, she will extend her favor to us. Think of the possibilities!”
“You have no way of knowing she will favor us!” Baird retorted, his disembodied voice growing louder. “How do you know she won’t take the woman and slit our throats?”
Uscias snarled something indiscernible, and Baird responded in kind.
Brenn closed his eyes, picturing his concentrated glamour now churning within him like a small, brilliant hurricane. It had been so very long since he’d done this that working with it now had him riding on the edge of panic. He’d had the same reaction when he’d begun training with the Morrigan’s men. Brennon’s power was a force to be reckoned with, especially when he utilized it to its full potential. Not one
color, or a smoothly blended color like most other Faelorehn glamour. His was a swirling mass of green, blue and violet, three colors that always remained separate, no matter how hard he pushed it to spin faster or how strongly the storm raged. It was in that whipping speed, however, that he got the individual colors to split away from one another. Like wisps of a cloud tearing apart in the wind. Unfortunately, this task took great effort and concentration. Brenn breathed in deeply through his nose, fighting the dizziness and the pain as sweat began to bead on his skin.
More than anything, Brenn wanted to collapse to his knees. It would make controlling and utilizing his glamour so much easier, but he could not show any signs of weakness. If Uscias or Baird paused in their bickering long enough, they might notice a change in Brenn’s stance. No. It would be much better to look alert and on guard, and to suffer through the extra effort of keeping up appearances while gathering his glamour than to broadcast exactly what he was doing. The seconds ticked by, and his strength began to wane.
Seren shifted beside him, moving closer if not physically, then mentally. She could sense his struggle, and Brenn had to bite back a grin. Smiling would require too much work.
Now, Seren, he sent, his mind straining with the effort. I need your help now.
Immediately, her hands were tugging at his shirt, pulling it free of his belt. For a flash second, his mind conjured up scenes from the night before. Gritting his teeth, Brenn forced those images away. She was only trying to create a greater skin to skin contact so her glamour would flow more freely. Focus Brenn, he told himself. Focus. His glamour pulsed once, then settled back down into its concentrated, rotating spiral. Seren’s fingers were cold against the hot skin of his chest and stomach, making Brenn hiss in a breath. As they moved over his flesh, they warmed, and he relaxed just a little. She had rolled back the sleeves of her own shirt, and once her fingers reached up to curl over his shoulders, she drew herself against his back, her forearms flat against his chest. In a matter of seconds, the warmth of her powerful healing magic poured into him. Brenn allowed a few precious moments to pass as he admired the bright, golden hue of her gentle magic before he directed it toward the tumultuous storm that was his. He nearly gasped in amazed shock as the dull jade, cobalt and plum hues of his glamour flared to brilliant emerald, azure and violet, the colors so blindingly bright, they hurt his mind’s eye.
Faeborne: A Novel of the Otherworld Page 35
