PRAISE FOR RISING FIRE
“Terri Brisbin weaves a richly imagined, spellbinding romantic fantasy in Rising Fire! Atmospheric, absorbing, infused with dark magic, gripping intrigue, and mesmerizing sensuality, the Stone Circle series is Terri Brisbin at the top of her game. I’m totally hooked and I can’t wait for more!”
—New York Times bestselling author Lara Adrian
PRAISE FOR
THE NOVELS OF TERRI BRISBIN
“A carefully crafted plot spiced with a realistic measure of deadly intrigue and a richly detailed, fascinating medieval setting.”
—Chicago Tribune
“A sharp-tongued and sharp-witted heroine clashes romantically with a dark and dangerously sexy hero in Brisbin’s latest captivating medieval romance. Expertly laced with danger and sweetened with sensuality, Taming the Highlander is an absolute delight.”
—Booklist
“Excellent. . . . The quick-moving story contains several twists readers may not see coming.”
—Romantic Times (4 stars)
“Historical romance fans will fully enjoy Once Forbidden . . . a powerful relationship drama.”
—The Best Reviews
“As always, Terri writes compelling characters and a riveting story that totally draws you in to the world of medieval Scotland. . . . The kind of story that will stay with you long after you finish the last page.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
“Beautifully written . . . [and] filled with surprises, passion, and danger, Surrender to the Highlander has something for all our reading pleasures. Terri Brisbin pens another excellent read.”
—CataRomance.com
“A seductive, vivid love story between a sexy hero and a strong heroine . . . a highly emotional tale that is vastly entertaining. It’s rich in historical detail, laced with the perfect amount of passion, and enhanced with intrigue. . . . Ms. Brisbin continually delivers highly satisfying romances, and Surrender to the Highlander is another winning effort from her; don’t miss it.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“A great historical romance with rich characters that will delight and entice readers . . . [an] engaging story of a powerful Highland beast and the lovely lady who tames him. . . . Fans of Brisbin’s novels will not be disappointed with her work, and newcomers will find in Brisbin a great new author to add to their historical romance list . . . a lively, frolicking tale of life in the Highlands; truly a must read.”
—Historical Romance Writers
“Empathetic, well-defined protagonists, solid historical detail, and a well-crafted plot filled with spies, treachery, and intrigue keep things on track in this lively adventure.”
—Library Journal
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,
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penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © Theresa S. Brisbin, 2015
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
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ISBN 978-0-698-15324-0
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Praise
Title page
Copyright page
Acknowledgments
The Legend
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Excerpt from RAGING SEA
About the Author
To Val Luna—librarian, writer, friend: You loved this idea when I first told you about it and urged me to write it. I hope it turned out as you thought it would. Yours was a life well lived. It ended too soon with stories yet to be written, and I will miss you always.
Acknowledgments
This series has ruled my thoughts and writing for more than three years—from the first idea to finally bringing it to readers now. During that time, many, many friends and readers pushed me on to write it, and I’d like to thank several:
To Jen and Lyn Wagner, my unofficial brainstorming-critique group—thanks for talking me off the ledge too many times and for always being supportive of my crazy creative process—you keep me grounded, or, at least, away from the whisky.
And to Carolyn Sullivan, a writing colleague from New England—thanks for believing in this series and for giving me a message about the future for it.
The Legend
Centuries ago
The earth buckled beneath her feet, its roar fearsome and deafening, and the sky tore itself open to hurl torrents of rain and lightning at her. Chaela soared through the air and laughed as the others used their powers against hers.
The goddess of fire and chaos, she inhaled the acrid smoke of the destruction she wrought as her enemies and their minions scattered before her might. Chaela savored the taste of ashes in her mouth that foretold of the victory that would soon be hers. Raising her voice, she formed the words and sounds that would bring forth the fire from within her. That fire would bring an end to this battle and to her enemies gathered there.
A moment away from sending brimstone and flames at the last of them, a freezing burst and a terrifying silence flooded through her mind. Like a woolen blanket swaddling a newborn, the silence strengthened, surrounding her until she could hear nothing, feel nothing, and think no words of incantation or spell-making. She gazed across the desolate plain and discovered the other six gathered among the only stones left standing. Her weakling son stood with them—against her!—but she would make sure he’d pay for his betrayal. Soon . . .
Another sound began, invading her thoughts, pushing her down to the ground and forcing even the breath from her body. Their voices rose, chanting words she did not know, until the eerie melody was everywhere.
“No!” she screamed against the overwhelming power of it. They could not defeat her! She could not let them.
She sought the words of a protective spell, but they scattered, as those who had chosen to follow the six traitors h
ad. Chaela drew upon the fire inside her, searching for the power that was hers to burn and destroy, but it, too, was gone.
Cernunnos forced the ground beneath Chaela to thrust up, tossing her into the air. The winds, guided by Taranis’s powers, carried Chaela to the stone circle and held her motionless above it as the enchantment grew louder around her. And still she could not release herself from the bonds the six created.
“Chaela,” Belenus, the god of life and order, called out to her. “Cease this and you will be allowed to live.”
“Fools!” she roared back when her voice would serve her mind. “I cannot be destroyed!” Struggling against the bonds that held her, she could not do more than scream out in frustration. Elemental powers such as hers were created by the universe and could not be extinguished.
“You can be defeated, Chaela. You will be imprisoned in the endless pit and never return. Your name will be forbidden and forgotten,” Sucellus, the god of war and change, told her.
She would never be forgotten—she had seen to that. Her name and her legend—and her blood—would go on no matter what these betrayers were able to do here today. Her very being held an elemental power of the universe and could never be extinguished. Chaela laughed then, the sound echoing across the decimated landscape. The people who had served and gained powers from their gods should be afraid, very afraid, of her wrath and the extent of her powers. Gathering every bit of the power that lived in her blood, she pushed out one final time, trying to force herself loose from the binding spell.
Spiking tendrils of pain and terror seeped through her as she watched a huge black hole open beneath her in the center of the standing stones. The seven continued chanting, and each word pierced her like a sword, her powers leaching out of her as they forced her closer and closer to the yawning pit. Her body levitated over the chasm, and then she fell. Though free of the binding spell, she could not break through the barrier they placed over the opening.
“Free me!” she screamed, beating at the invisible wall between them.
Lashing out with her remaining powers, Chaela pounded against the wall that kept her from the world she would rule. She could feel a weakness in it, and she thrust all she had against it. She watched as the seven standing above her startled, and she threw her head back, laughing at their stupidity.
To bind a power such as hers to this place, there must be a sacrifice to strengthen the spell. A sacrifice of blood, of her blood.
“You do not deserve the powers we have!” she yelled through the barrier. “You do not—” She could not speak the rest because her words were cut off by the sight before her.
Her son, the only one of her human-kind children who’d inherited some of her power, threw himself over the pit. Sucellus sent a spear of iron through his heart, and his blood spilled across the barrier. Instead of freeing her, his sacrifice sealed the portal over her.
Chaela pounded fruitlessly against the now-impenetrable divide and then fell back into the blackness, unable to see or to feel an end to it. The opening of light disappeared above her as she fell farther and deeper into the void, but Chaela stopped fighting it and allowed herself to drift downward.
Let those traitors above believe her conquered. Let them believe themselves and the other puny humans safe. They may have won this battle and thrown her from the human world into this void, but they would not win in the end.
They would eventually die off in the human world while she lived on forever in this prison, searching for a way back.
And she would find a way back—to take her rightful place as ruler, to avenge this wrong, to destroy those who could band together against her.
She would find a way to return, and every one of them and their descendants would curse this day when they turned against her.
Prologue
Late winter, AD 1286
An island off the Scottish coast
Marcus woke from a deep sleep with a scream tightening his throat. He caught himself before the sound escaped and sat up on his pallet. Sweat poured from him, and he pushed his hair back from his face as he climbed to his feet. Staggering in the dark of his hut, he found the jug of ale and downed a good portion, trying to ease the terror inside him. His heart raced in his chest, and his thoughts filled with danger and turmoil . . . and fire.
He pushed open the door and walked out into the cooler, misty air of night, hoping to regain his calm and clarity. Taking deep breaths did not help, and he found himself shaking as sheer and absolute terror filled his mind, heart, and soul.
This could mean only one thing, and he dreaded even thinking of such a possibility. Marcus shook his head, denying the thought before it could form completely. The crunching of leaves underfoot startled him, and he turned toward the sound.
And her.
Aislinn stood before him, her eyes glazed over and her body not her own. She was a seer of immense power, sent by her mother to him when still a child to train in the old ways. Her skills and power grew as she matured, and now she began to speak in the language from ages ago. The language of the time when priests like the two of them had served the old gods. The words floated into his mind, and he memorized them as she spoke them in the singsong voice of prophecy.
“When the threat is revealed, the sleepers awaken. A Warrior seeks the truth while Fire burns away the deception. Begin in the East, then North, then South, then West. . . . Find the true gate among the rest.”
Marcus’s rising blood told him that this was the moment they’d trained and prayed for throughout their lives and the lives of the generations of priests before them. Now he waited for the rest of the words that would give them guidance in their task to save humanity from the darkest evil they would face, but none followed. Instead Aislinn opened her eyes as if she were waking and stared at him in fear. She rarely remembered the prophecies or knowledge she gained, but she understood the import of what had come to her this night.
“Marcus? Is it begun?” she asked, walking to his side.
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, both giving and receiving comfort in the physical gesture. “Aye, I fear it is.”
“And she is . . .” Marcus put his fingers to her mouth to prevent her from speaking about her prophecy anymore. They could not afford to discuss it openly.
“Aye,” he repeated.
In the silence, he felt the heat of his powers rising in his blood. It replaced the fear and gave him the clarity to know what they must do, or at least whom they must seek. He knew that Aislinn would lead them throughout their quest, and as he watched the emotions flash across her face, he realized she must be feeling the same thing.
They had valuable weapons for their battle against the ancient evil one. For thousands of years, they’d prayed and worshipped the gods who had been forgotten or transmuted by other, newer religions. They’d studied the old legends. Marcus doubted that anyone in the outside world was as prepared for the bloody battles and tremendous displays of power that were about to unfold.
Suddenly, the skin of his forearm burned, and he raised his arm to look upon it. Aislinn did the same. A mark appeared in the same place on both of them.
They watched by the light of the moon as the ancient image of a small man burned a patch into his skin. Hissing against the searing pain, he nodded as others left their dwellings to join them in the center of their village. Each held out their arm as they were marked with the symbol of their power. Only Aislinn’s was different—the silver crescent moon marked her skin. Would she be for some higher purpose than the rest?
“It has begun,” he said, meeting their gazes and then closing his eyes in silent prayer. “Ready yourselves for the journey.”
As he watched his followers obey his instructions, he knew that some would fall, some would stand, and some would die in this war against true evil. Marcus offered up new prayers to the old gods, hoping they could still hear the ple
as of those who remained faithful to the old ways.
By daybreak they were ready to leave their island for the first time in generations. Standing on the shore, staring into the thick mist that protected them from discovery and kept outsiders forever away, he uttered the words to disperse that fog. Four boats—twenty men and women—would leave on this perilous journey while the rest remained hidden here, protecting their knowledge from the outside world.
Marcus watched the island disappear from view as they crossed the miles to the mainland, where they would face dangers unlike any they had faced before. As he turned away from the island, he realized one cause for his fear—the seer had never finished her prophecy.
Gods help them all.
When the threat is revealed, the sleepers awaken,
A Warrior seeks the truth
while Fire burns away the deception.
Begin in the East, then North, then South, then West . . .
Find the true gate among the rest.
Chapter 1
Late winter, AD 1286
Yester, Scotland
With the morning’s cool mist long burned away by the strong rays of the midday sun, Brienne waited until the villagers were all seeing to their daily chores and tasks before deciding that this was the day.
And it was—she could feel it in her bones and in her blood. Something called to her, and some growing urge within her pushed her feet toward the place where she would find out the truth about what lived inside her. There had been tiny glimpses at what it might be, times when fire seemed to answer to her, but she would attempt something this day that she had not dared before.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the latch and tugged the heavy door open a crack. It creaked on its hinges as she eased it open only wide enough for her to slip inside. Then, after stepping inside the smithy’s dark cottage, Brienne closed the door behind her, wanting no interruptions. Since her father was off on an errand, she expected none. Entering into the small building that served as his workshop, she circled the fire pit and tossed in more wood, watching as the existing fire licked at the new pieces and then consumed them. She leaned over and pressed down on the bellows that fed air to the fire, encouraging it to spread and grow hotter and hotter with each breath of air that blew from the pump.
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