Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Map
Aisling: The Story So Far….
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
Aisling: Glossary
More from Carole Cummings
Readers love Blue on Black by Carole Cummings
About the Author
By Carole Cummings
Visit DSP Publications
Copyright
Beloved Son
By Carole Cummings
Aisling Trilogy: Book Three
When a man’s identity is built on lies, can he find the true self buried beneath? For Wil and Dallin, newfound love might not be enough. To heal themselves and their world, they must learn to see things as they truly are and break free of what they have been tricked into believing.
Wil and Dallin stand at the center of an approaching convergence they’re not sure they’re strong enough to face. The power of the land and the Mother waits for Wil in the bowels of Lind, but it comes at a price: he must defeat the soul-eater and save the Father, Her Beloved, and manage to keep his soul in the process. He can’t do it alone. But where can he turn for aid when friends are not necessarily friends, trusted mentors are not necessarily to be trusted, and good intentions are sometimes the most dangerous kind?
Dallin and Wil must accept their roles as the Guardian and the Aisling and stand together against a ruthless god in a cataclysmic battle of dreams and wills, the fates of both of their souls and those of all mortals hanging in the balance. Trust, if they can finally embrace it, holds both the promise of salvation and the risk of damnation.
This one’s for Julia
Aisling: The Story So Far….
BOOK ONE: Guardian
Putnam’s First Constable, Dallin Brayden, is called upon to question a man brought in as a witness to murder. From the moment Dallin encounters the man who claims to be Wilfred Calder, things begin to skew off-kilter—from the not-quite-recognition Dallin feels when he first lays eyes on Wil to the fact that one man beat another to death, apparently as a result of an argument over Wil himself. Before Dallin can get answers, Wil skips town and Dallin is sent after him. It seems Wil is actually the Aisling, the Chosen of his country—Ríocht—sporadically at war with Dallin’s country, Cynewísan (also known as the Commonwealth), for as long as anyone can remember. And the return of Wil to Ríocht is the only thing that will keep the war horns from blowing this time. Dallin is commanded by the chief of Putnam’s constabulary to track Wil down and bring him back.
Dallin sets off on Wil’s trail, and notices there are others on it as well, others who have burned an entire village and murdered its denizens in their pursuit. Dallin finally catches up with Wil in Dudley just as Wil’s pursuers do. A violent confrontation ensues, and once Dallin takes care of those who are after Wil, Wil once again tries to run from Dallin. Dallin jails him with the cooperation of Dudley’s sheriff.
Under Dallin’s interrogation, Wil tells a tale of decades-long captivity and addiction, and a man, Síofra, who kidnapped an infant Wil and had been keeping him prisoner in order to control his magic until the Brethren—Wil’s other pursuers, and self-appointed agents of the Father, Ríocht’s patron deity—stormed Ríocht’s citadel and took Wil away. It wasn’t a rescue, Wil says, just another kidnapping, and his captivity no less horrifying than it had been with Síofra. Wil is the Aisling, he tells Dallin, one who can enter the dreams of others, and manipulate them into doing his bidding. Wil also says Dallin is the Guardian, a being of magic meant to guard against the Aisling and his power.
Dallin doesn’t believe in magic, but he’s seen plenty of evidence that Wil is in danger, and that returning him to Ríocht and Síofra would be no less perilous—both to Wil and Cynewísan. Despite his orders to capture and return Ríocht’s Chosen, Dallin decides he needs to protect Wil, if he can get Wil to trust him. Before he can even try, the Brethren attack the jail. Dallin and Dudley’s militia manage to fight them off, after which Dallin and Wil flee into the wilderness.
They decide to head to Lind, the northern country where Dallin was born, the place out of which Dallin’s mother smuggled him when he was twelve and Lind was attacked, apparently by forces sent by Síofra and looking for Dallin. Dallin barely remembers it, but he thinks it’s the place there might be answers, and they have nowhere else to turn.
On their way, they stop at an inn for the night, during which Dallin dreams things that seem to confirm what Wil has told him. The Mother comes to him in the dream and tells Dallin he is indeed the Guardian, and he’s meant to protect the Aisling, not protect against him. She calls on Dallin to guard her precious Gift.
Dallin wakes, still disbelieving, but then he makes a joke that Wil should prove it all to him by making it rain. Wil does.
BOOK TWO: Dream
Having accepted the fact that he is the Guardian, meant to protect the Aisling, Dallin must rethink everything, including who to trust and where they need to go to find answers. He and Wil agree to travel to Lind—the place of Dallin’s birth—in the northern mountains to consult with the Old Ones, Lind’s holy men. Wil doesn’t want to go there, since he’s believed all his life that going to Lind will mean his death. But he knows they need to learn what they can, so he agrees.
On the road, they get to know each other better and begin a tentative trust. Wil admires Dallin’s dagger, after which Dallin gifts it to him. He also gives Wil a rifle and teaches him to shoot. It turns out Wil’s an excellent shot.
They stop in Chester, just outside of Lind, to find a place for Wil to stay while Dallin goes to Lind to find out what he can. There’s a confrontation at the city’s gate, during which Dallin makes an enemy of the gate guard. Once they’re in Chester, Dallin spots a man who appears to be watching them. His build and his dress seem to indicate he’s from Lind, but he appears and disappears, so Dallin’s not sure he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Meanwhile, Dallin is feeling off his game, reflexes dulled, which contributes to his delayed responses when he and Wil are ambushed by the gate guard and his cronies. During the fracas, Dallin is stabbed in the back and injured quite badly. Wil manages to take down a few of the assailants and scare off the others. He’s trying to get Dallin to his feet so they can look for help when the man who’s been watching them appears again.
Barret Calder turns out to be a former Old One and the father of the real Wilfred Calder, having cut the Marks from his cheek when he left Lind to find out what happened to his son. Wilfred had been a seeker, sent out into the world to try to find the lost Aisling, but when he did, Wil ran and the Brethren murdered Wilfred. Wil took Wilfred’s papers and named himself Wil. Barret Calder knows what Wil and Dallin are, but he doesn’t know the part about how Wil got his name. He helps Wil get Dallin to the local Temple, where Calder and the Temple’s priest, Thorne, heal him as much as they can. It’s not enough.
That night, Wil meets Dallin in a dream and convinces him to accept all of what the Guardian is—including a healer. Dallin heals himself, after which Wil kisses him.
They spend a few days at the Temple, during which they learn how Wil’s magic works, and they discuss with Calder everything that’s happened. They still don’t trust Calder, but they all agree Lind is their only choice and they’ll head there once Dallin is fully recovered. Before they’re ready, Síofra arrives with some constables from Putnam and a contingent of Cynewísan’s soldiers. It’s obvious they’re after Wil and Dallin, so Wil and Dallin attempt to flee. They’re caught, but Dallin gets Wil to take off without him. Wil gets away, but Dallin is arrested by his old friend and fellow constable Corliss. Dallin convinces Corliss to listen in whi
le Síofra questions him. She does, after which Corliss and another constable break Dallin out. Just as they’re making their escape, Wil comes barreling back to rescue Dallin.
They’re surrounded by Cynewísan soldiers. Síofra tries to manipulate Wil into coming with him. Wil refuses, and there’s a magical battle between them. Wil wins but as he’s digging into Síofra’s mind to finally learn his real name, he confronts a malevolent presence—Æledfýres. In his haste to escape, Wil pulls his magic back too quick and too hard, and gets caught in his own dreams until Dallin finally finds him there and brings him back.
When Wil wakes up, he’s in Lind.
1
TOUCHED BY Her own hand. Wil could feel it. Could feel Her. Almost overwhelming strength wrapped inside soft benevolence. Terrifying might and boundless love. Impassioned wisdom and fierce defense. All of it in his palm, striating all through him. He wanted desperately to hurl the thing away from him, and just as desperately to curl it so tight in his fist it melded with skin and tooth and blood and bone.
“Wil?”
Dallin was leaning close, eyeing Wil with concern, sandy brows drawn down over a thoughtful gaze.
Wil blinked. “Mm?”
Dallin’s eyebrow went up. By the small twitch of a wry smile at the corner of his mouth, Wil guessed Dallin had been trying to get his attention for a while now.
“I asked if you had any questions before we get into everything else.”
“I have lots of questions, but….” Wil frowned. “I’m not quite sure….”
He’d been asleep for four days, and then he’d spent the morning getting pummeled by pure and unfettered power—raw and crude, almost primitive, but ancient and sophisticated at the same time. For a while it had seemed as though he knew everything, every thought from every living thing. Knowledge, its threads too raw and too pure, and he’d nearly strangled himself in the weave. Everything else had lost its importance, until now. There’d been no real chance to talk, to find out how precarious their position might be, how much these people knew, and how much they should know.
Fortunately Wil didn’t need to explain it to Dallin. “They know all about you.” Dallin’s tone was steady, maybe even defiant. “What blanks Calder left, I filled in.” Dallin shot a pinched grimace over to the three Old Ones. “And then some.”
Marden shook his head at Dallin, light reprimand. “You must be more forgiving of our brother.” It was sad, but with a soft bit of pleading beneath it. “You have not yet received your Marks—you cannot know what it means to lose them.”
“He didn’t lose them. He cut them away so he could—”
“So he could step into the shoes of the lost Guardian.” Siddell’s hazel gaze was straight and unbending but not quite harsh. “So he could honor his son, lost to us now in some anonymous grave, buried without the graces or so much as a lock of hair from one of his kin so his ghost can remember who he was or that his death was an honorable one.”
“In the service of an Aisling he didn’t even know existed.”
Siddell frowned now. “You have much anger in you, Dallin Brayden.” He held up his hand when Dallin’s lip curled. “I do not reproach. I only observe. But I would ask that you try to think more kindly of Brother Calder. Within the space of a year, the man lost his wife and his only son, both of whom he loved more than life. His calling was all he had left, and his faith is strong, yet he consigned it all so that he might wipe away the Mother’s tears and restore Her lost one to Her.” His thin lips pinched, and he shook his head sadly. “You have seen and spoken to Her,” he went on quietly, shifting his sharp glance to Wil. “Can you now imagine the silence if you were to call to Her and She could no longer hear you?”
Wil swallowed. He’d guessed as much, but now the empathetic pain of the truth pierced him. “He didn’t just cut away his Marks,” he told Dallin softly. “He cut away his connection to Her—for Her.” He shook his head and frowned at Siddell. “It seems… very unfair.”
Siddell waved a bony hand. “Ours is not to question.” He flicked a sly glance at Dallin. “Others have taken up that task.”
Wil almost smirked as Dallin rolled his eyes with a low grumble. Instead he pointed a curious gaze at the old men. “He is very suspicious of me.”
Thorne shook his head, but it was Marden who spoke. “He fears for you, lad,” he offered in his gruff baritone, “but he shares the fears of all of us as well.”
“Fear of me.” Wil peered at every one of them closely. No one negated the statement. “I wouldn’t… I won’t—”
Except he would. He had. Almost destroyed a city, almost took Dallin’s head off, almost set half the Weardas on fire…. Why should they believe a word Wil said, or trust any good intention, when it was all too plain he hadn’t the strength or power to control himself, let alone… everything else?
“You do not know your own power,” Siddell put in as though reading Wil’s own thoughts. “You cannot control it. Bringing you here is like teasing a match over a mountain of gunpowder. Yet there was no other way. There is no other way. Yes, we fear for many things—ourselves, you, the very world.” Siddell shook his head. “You are not only dangerous to your enemies, lad. You must understand, we cannot—”
“Look.” Dallin’s teeth were clenched. “You cannot judge and accuse when you don’t even—”
“You would tell us truthfully, Dallin Brayden, that our fears are unjustified?” Siddell’s voice was challenging, colder than before.
“I would tell you that they are premature and pessimistic.” Dallin’s voice, on the other hand, was rising and heated. “He controls it better every day, and he’s stronger than you think he is. This place was crushing him, and yet here he sits, calm and sane and willing to talk reason, when—”
“Because you have set your shoulders beneath it,” Marden cut in.
“That isn’t true. Wil’s taking most of it. I just—” Dallin waved a hand, irritated and edgy. “I’ve channeled it.” His gaze hardened. “Isn’t that my job? Isn’t all of this my job?”
“And do you truly feel qualified to take up that ‘job’?” Thorne wanted to know. “You are as untested as the Aisling, and yet you—”
“Just stop it!” Until that very second, Wil had been unaware he intended to speak at all, but the bickering was making him more anxious than he would have thought possible. Pressure was building at the back of his throat, making his heart pound and his palms sweat. Panic was flittering at the bottom of his stomach, weighting his previously pleasant breakfast like a lump of cold lead in his gut. “Just… stop for a moment. Please.”
Amazingly they did, as Wil tried and failed to gather his scattered thoughts. They were all looking at him, Dallin too, waiting patiently while Wil’s mind stumbled and his hand fisted reflexively around the warm stone in his palm.
“I never meant to hurt anyone.” It sounded so inadequate, but it was all Wil could think to say. “I only wanted to be let to live.” His eyes were burning; he shut them tight for a moment until the heat receded. “What’s inside me… I don’t want it. I’ll give it back, if you want. I’ll let you have it if you’ll just show me how.” He turned to Dallin. “You can take it away, right? You know how—like what you did before.”
“I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that.” There was sincere regret in the roughness of Dallin’s voice.
It didn’t make Wil feel any better. He turned back to the Old Ones. “Calder told Dallin he should kill me.” Bald and flat. Despite the panic welling in him, he lifted his chin, defiant. “Is that what this is about? Is this a tribunal?” He set his gaze on each of them, trying not to let the fear show. “Am I on trial?”
He hadn’t realized how close to the edge of hysteria he’d been until the warm weight of Dallin’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. A message. A reminder.
You’re not alone. Whatever happens, I won’t let you face it by yourself, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep them from hurting you.
Wil sa
gged beneath it, warmed and calmed by the simple touch.
Thorne had been silent, watching and listening. Now he laid a hand on Wil’s knee. “It is true that we have long feared what might have been happening to you, what you might have become.” He patted once, then drew back. “Now that you are here, we can see that your heart is astonishingly untouched by the darkness through which you have waded.”
Wil looked down. His heart didn’t feel untouched.
“You are a good man,” Thorne went on. “But even the best of men can have the worst effect if he possesses power he cannot control.”
Wil’s gaze went unwillingly to the healing burn on Dallin’s cheek, then quickly skimmed away, focusing instead on his own hand still fisted around the charm.
“My Guardian has been teaching me. I’m learning.”
“Certainly,” Marden agreed. “But your Guardian, while more powerful than we’d expected, is unschooled himself, and now we understand there is another consideration.” He paused when Wil shot a narrow glance up through his fringe. Marden shrugged. “There is a deeper connection between you than that which was meant.” His broad face pinched with mild worry. “Your Guardian owns the priorities of a lover, when he should—”
“Now wait just a damned minute,” Dallin cut in, his hand tightening on Wil’s shoulder so hard that Wil almost winced. “That’s no business of yours, and you’ve no right to—”
“I beg to differ.” Thorne’s tone was more stern than Wil had heard it yet. “It is not our business to sit in judgment upon either the Guardian or the Aisling, but you must think about it as the Shaman now. Here we are, presented with an Aisling who possesses more powers than any before him—some that even we do not understand, all of them raw and untamed—and a Guardian who loves him above all.”
Wil couldn’t help but blink at that one, then quickly snap his glance over to Dallin.
Beloved Son Page 1
