Suddenly, Isa burst through the door, her brown curls framing her round face. “It’s snowing! It’s snowing outside!”
Corbin saw the sudden flash of annoyance on Mara’s face.
He looked down at Isa. “It can’t be snowing,” he said. “It’s summer.”
Isa’s lip curled into a smile as she pointed towards the shuttered window. “But it is snowing. Look!”
Corbin stood and unlatched the shutter, stunned to see that Isa was telling the truth. It certainly was snowing. Great flakes fell down on the mountain like a white curtain.
“Do you see this?” he said to Mara.
“How can that be?” she asked. “It can’t be.”
Isa pushed her way between them. “Isn’t it wonderful? It’s magic. Magic is making it snow!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mara snapped.
Corbin took in a breath at Mara’s tone. Her face was drawn with anger again. He put a protective hand on Isa’s shoulder. “Why are you speaking to her like that?” he whispered to Mara, unable to take his eyes from her face.
Mara’s expression quickly softened and a flush of red came to her cheeks. “I am sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. She looked down at Isa. “I’m so sorry, little dove. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I was just surprised.”
Isa shrugged forgivingly. “I don’t mind,” she said. “But it is magic. Ailwen is making it snow. I saw it myself.”
Mara’s eyes shot up to Corbin’s. “Ailwen is doing this?”
Corbin felt a tug in his chest, more of the unexplained taunting him. “Come,” he said, trying to conceal the alarm in his voice. “Let’s go see what Ailwen is up to.”
The entrance door to Ayrith was wide open. Drake, Barrett, Gareth, and Annora stood just outside, watching Ailwen with his arms outstretched to the sky. A cold burst of air hit Corbin as they joined the others. “How is he doing this?” he asked Drake in a hushed voice.
Drake turned his head to Corbin, but his eyes remained locked on the falling snow. “It seems he has the gift of the elements,” Drake said.
“But how can that be?” Mara asked, sounding as stunned as Corbin felt.
Ailwen lifted his arms higher, stretching them up as far as they would go and the flakes of snow came down even harder, like a blanket pulled over the valley below.
Annora caught the falling flakes in her hands. “This is incredible,” she said. “It feels so real.”
Ailwen’s face stretched in a wide grin and as he lowered his hands. The snow stopped falling. He turned to Mara. “You never mentioned you gave us the power of the elements.”
Mara blinked and under her breath Corbin heard her say, “I didn’t.”
Isa giggled. “See.” She looked up at Corbin and Mara. “I told you it was magic.” She bent down and scooped up an armful of snow.
Corbin met Mara’s eyes, mirroring her astonishment. She must have been thinking the same thing he was. Only two Dia had Light strong enough to control the elements—one was Mara, and the other was locked away in Valenia.
Barrett hiked up his belt and slapped Ailwen on the back. “That’s my boy.”
“Not a bad trick, if I do say so myself,” Gareth added.
Ailwen shrugged and hung his arm over Annora’s shoulder. “I was sitting out here and it just happened. The thought popped in my head and suddenly it was snowing.” He smiled again and placed a kiss on Annora’s forehead. “And now I am famished. Let’s not let Annora’s meal get too cold.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Barrett said, following Ailwen, Annora, and Gareth into the Ayrith.
Corbin, Mara, and Drake stayed behind.
Corbin knelt down, picked up the melting snow and rubbed it between his fingers. Drake did the same.
“How can he have this much power?” Corbin asked.
Drake shook his head with a troubled expression and looked to Mara for answers.
“I only gave him as much Light as the rest,” Mara said with a knitted brow. “But…”
Corbin saw her eyes flare with thought. “What is it?” he asked.
Mara paused and pressed her lips together, her eyes staring off in thought. “It’s what I was trying to tell you before Isa came in.” She paused and her expression fell. “I fear I’ve made a terrible mistake.” She looked away, avoiding their stare. “When I gave Ailwen the Light, something strange happened. It started when I gave Light to Annora. A strange feeling. But it was worse with Ailwen. I thought maybe it was because Ailwen is young, the perfect age to be at his strongest. I’d hoped it was simply that.”
“What? What happened?” Corbin urged.
Mara inhaled and rubbed her head as if in pain. “It was different than the others, Corbin. Like my power was being drawn out of me instead of given. As if I couldn’t control it.”
“The consequences we cannot foresee,” Drake said contemplatively.
Corbin watched as Mara went stiff and her expression turned to ice. The back and forth of her moods was almost as worrying as the look of pain in her eyes.
“And what consequence is this? Snow? If weather is our only concern, then I’d hardly call it a concern at all,” she said.
Drake stood, his expression gentle. “Something is out of balance here, Mara. Ailwen should not have that kind of power.”
“How do we know what a new Dia is supposed to be?” she asked irritably. “Corbin has the gift of healing, but you and I do not. I don’t see you questioning that.”
“That’s different, Mara, and you know it,” Drake said. “This is an imbalance. Even I can sense it.” Drake softened his tone. “And do you think I haven’t noticed how strangely you’ve been acting? You are irritable, constantly rubbing the ache in your head. Something is very wrong here.”
Corbin was relieved Drake was able to put it so frankly.
Mara exhaled and lowered her eyes. “I…I know it,” she admitted. “I’m not sleeping at night. And during the day my mind is a flurry of thoughts.”
Corbin reached for her hand. “There is only one other Dia who has the gift of the elements.”
“Had the gift of elements,” Mara said. “I took that from him, remember?”
Corbin nodded. “But perhaps the ability has been given to Ailwen.”
Drake shook his head. “I doubt Ailwen would possess that kind of power if Mara had not intended it.”
Corbin peered down the mountain. The green leaves in the valley shook off the melting snow. Then the thought began to form in his mind. Could it be? Was it possible that somehow Malcolm had something to do with this? Corbin clenched his fists at the thought of Malcolm and before thinking he blurted out, “We need to go back to Valenia.”
Drake nodded slowly. “I think you’re right, son. We need to know if he is secure so we can explore other possibilities.”
“I will go,” Corbin said to Mara before she had the chance to speak. “You should stay here. I don’t want you setting eyes on that place ever again.”
There was a fleeting look in her eyes, a warning that this was the kind of protection she loathed. But Corbin was certain that she’d never want to see that place again. Mara closed her eyes for a moment. “You can’t go alone,” she finally said.
“I will accompany him,” Drake said. “And to keep him under our watch, we will bring Ailwen with us, and Barrett as well. Gareth can stay here with you, Annora, and Isa.”
Mara nodded and looked up at Corbin with glassy eyes. “I don’t want you to go back there.”
“I know,” Corbin said, brushing her cheek. “But we must, if only to see that he is still kept within Valenia’s walls. I won’t be a moment longer than need be.”
Mara exhaled, her breath visible in the chilled air. “I don’t like this.”
Drake walked to the door and held it open. “We won’t be more than two dawns, Mara. Something is wrong. I can feel it. And if it’s not Malcolm, then we have to find out what we’re dealing with.”
In the great hal
l, behind the gilded throne, there was a secret door that led to a privy chamber fit for a queen. The walls reached thirty feet high and broad windows looked onto the valleys below. The marble fireplace took up nearly an entire wall and was tall enough for a man to walk into, while cushioned settees surrounded an oak table standing on ornately carved legs.
Corbin carried the ancient Tuatha Dé Danann texts and set them on the table in front of Mara. Many of the codices were so old, and the vellum so dry, they nearly crumbled at the touch. These accounts from their ancestors told of their journey from the four cities, their rise to power in Ireland, and the wars that led to their defeat. There was nothing recorded after that. No mention of the coire, the ancient magic of the Keepers, or what became of the rest of their kind.
Mara carefully opened a text, its spine cracking like dry wood. Her eyes scanned the page. “They wrote in riddles,” she said.
Corbin sat across from her. “They were poets. I suppose they were meant to write in riddles.”
“Why would they stop writing after the Dagda’s death? Surely there was another king after him.”
Corbin looked at the pile in front of him and back at the shelves. “There has to be more than this.”
Mara shook her head. “These were all the texts Rowan had. We took everything from Valenia.” She rubbed her head.
“Does it still hurt?” Corbin asked.
Mara gave a slight nod and opened her eyes. “Don’t worry yourself with it now. Drake and the others will be waiting. You should go.”
Corbin was reluctant to leave her. They hadn’t been separated since Malcolm took her captive. He knew she was safe now, but that didn’t seem to lessen his worries. He stood and gave her a long embrace. “I will return as quickly as I can,” he said.
They walked through the great hall to the entrance doors where Annora was saying goodbye to Ailwen. Barrett and Drake had their swords on their backs, while Isa watched from the hallway.
Annora let go of Ailwen and handed him a bundle of food. “Don’t speak to that villain,” she said. “Just see that he’s secure and return to me. We don’t need him causing us anymore trouble.”
“No worries, love. I promise to return to you as I am,” Ailwen said.
Corbin watched Ailwen. His friend looked the same as he always had. How could Malcolm have something to do with his strange power?
Ailwen gave Annora a kiss on the forehead and looked to Drake and Barrett. “Are we ready?”
“Aye,” Barrett said. “This will be our first time traveling as Dia. It should be an interesting journey.”
Drake opened the door and said to Gareth, “Be sure you take care of our girls.”
Gareth learned on the wall with a grin. “I think I’ll be needing the taking care of.”
Corbin said his goodbyes to Mara and Isa, and went out in the warm, damp air. He turned back to see Mara watching him in the doorway. “Fear nothing, my love. I will see you in two dawns.”
“Make it one,” she said.
Malcolm hobbled along after Seren and Tristan, his awkward steps crunching on the dry earth. It was difficult to keep up. While his leg had nearly healed, it was left deformed like a crooked branch.
How long had they walked? Days, at least? Malcolm was beginning to lose track of time, direction, and all sense of himself.
His hand ached where his fingers used to be, and at times, he swore he could feel his fingers moving. Only whenever he looked down, all he saw was the ghastly stump of a hand, with a single thumb sticking out. In addition to the injuries that slowed him, his mortal body had little strength, still weakened from the sickness.
Malcolm kept up with the two Tylwyth Teg as long as he could and finally collapsed when they stopped at a stream in the woods. He leaned over the water, dipped his head in and then fell back on the ground. “I can’t go any longer,” he gasped. “I am done for, surely.”
Seren and Tristan observed him, their golden-amber eyes boring into him.
“What?” he asked breathlessly, feeling as though he might sink in to the earth.
“You certainly are mortal now, aren’t you?” Seren asked.
Malcolm huffed. “Which confirmed it for you, my mangled hand or my warped leg?”
Seren raised an eyebrow. “Does it still hurt?” She pointed to the hand clutched to his chest.
“Yes,” Malcolm admitted. “I think I injured it again during the struggle with Bram.”
Seren nodded, got to her feet and walked away through the trees.
Malcolm was left under the keen eye of Tristan and the tense air between them.
“How old are you?” Malcolm asked, trying to ease the tension.
Tristan brushed brown curls of hair away from his face. “Nineteen.”
“And how old is your sister?” Malcolm asked.
Tristan knitted his brow “What concern is it of yours?”
Malcolm smirked, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. “You’re a bit young to be so bitter, don’t you agree?”
“You know nothing about me,” Tristan said. “Keep your observations to yourself.” He got up, clearly not wanting to say more, and walked towards the stream just as Seren stepped out of the trees with an armful of long, green stalks. She knelt down near Malcolm and began to pull off the leaves. “Give me your hand,” she said, pointing to his bandaged stump.
Malcolm pulled it closer to him. “What for?”
Seren stopped and tilted her head. “This is yarrow flower. The leaves will help with some of the pain.” She reached out for his hand, gently rested it her lap, and began to remove the cloth.
Malcolm winced and turned his head away when the four nubs were exposed. His stomach turned.
“It’s nearly healed,” she said. “It’s a shame it didn’t heal as quickly as your leg. I don’t always understand the healing arts. Sometimes they work for me, sometimes they don’t.”
“I feel as though the fingers are still there,” Malcolm said with a growl of pain. “It’s as though my hand aches for them, not because of them.”
Seren nodded. “The mind does play tricks on us when we lose a piece of ourselves, doesn’t it?”
Malcolm met her perceptive stare. How true that is, he thought resentfully. He’d lost more than just a few fingers. He’d lost his entire being, all of his power, and the core of his soul in the matter of a day.
He watched as she placed the leaves over the wound and bound it back up.
“I can’t imagine what this must feel like,” Seren said as she worked. “It must be terrible to be mortal and know this kind of pain.”
“It is,” Malcolm said, sucking air through his teeth. “One could never imagine such horror until it’s all you know.”
Seren finished with a thoughtful nod and released his hand. “At least you still have one good hand. That’s your sword hand, is it not?”
Splaying the fingers on his good hand, Malcolm turned it over. “Yes, but what does it matter? I am a cripple in this body whether I wield a blade or not.”
Seren looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean, this body?”
Malcolm could feel Tristan’s eyes on him now. Both siblings knew he was once a Dia, but he hadn’t told them that he was occupying a stolen body and his real form was trapped in a fortress.
Deciding there was little harm in telling them, and even lesser chance they would believe him, he spoke. “I am a Revenant. I can take over the bodies of mortals, leaving my own body behind. But when my Light was taken, it changed how my spirit moved. I should be able to leave this body. I’ve tried many times.” He paused as the memory of losing his fingers came back to him. If only he could have freed himself then. He swallowed hard as though it would push the memory away. “But I seem to be stuck in this form, too weak to free myself. Even though I am free from Bram, every step I now take is still within the prison of this body.”
Seren settled on the grass, tucking her legs beneath her with little reaction to what he’d just said. “Wh
o took your Light? How does one go from being like us to becoming mortal?”
It was then Malcolm realized he’d been so focused on escaping Bram that he hadn’t thought about Mara in days. It was her fault he was like this, and only she would be the one to undo it. But what use was it now? He would never find her, and even if he did, he stood no chance against her. What choice did that leave him? Valenia was certainly his prison, but so was this body. At the very least, at Valenia he would have his body back, and he could find some other way to break free from her spell.
Malcolm sighed. “She is a powerful Dia. Too powerful for her own good.”
Seren kept her golden eyes fixed on him, probing for answers. “How did you wrong her?”
Her assumption made Malcolm frown. “Who said I did?”
A shrewd smile played across Seren’s full lips. “If I’ve learned anything from my mother, it’s that a woman scorned is a vengeful beast. You must have offended her grievously for her to strip you of your powers.”
Malcolm took a moment to consider this, still feeling the sting of Mara’s betrayal like a raging fire in his soul. “I might own some blame in it,” he confessed.
Seren’s eyes widened. “She broke your heart, didn’t she?”
A cynical laugh involuntarily burst from Malcolm’s lips. “She did no such thing,” he said, even though he knew Seren was right.
Seren smiled and began to braid the dark brown curls over her shoulder. “Well, I can see hate in your eyes, Malcolm. That kind of hate is only born from love.”
Malcolm feigned another laugh. “I doubt you’d know much about it.”
Seren shrugged but didn’t say any more.
When Tristan returned from the stream and sat down, his eyes shifted between them. Malcolm knew he’d been listening and wondered why he didn’t object or call Malcolm a liar again. If these two didn’t find his Revenant ability a surprise, they must have strange abilities of their own.
At one time, these two siblings might have interested Malcolm. But as the ache in his hand reminded him, he wasn’t the old Malcolm. In his mind, he wasn’t even Malcolm at all. It was then he decided that the only thing he wanted, the only thing he could wish for, was his body back, Light or no Light. And besides, he’d much rather make his way back to Valenia than become a dog chasing these two about the realm.
The Embers of Light Page 14
