Blazing Earth

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “How is this done?” Tolan asked.

  “A ritual where blood is spilled on the altar stone and then poured onto the barrier to break the spell that holds her within it. Worry not on that, Tolan. I need you and the sunblood to agree to help me, to help the goddess, to restore the balance that should exist among those with the power over all things on earth.”

  If Hugh had not been watching carefully when he mentioned the sunblood, he would have missed the slight narrowing of Tolan’s eyes. But he saw it and it confirmed everything he had suspected after questioning Geoffrey about this man and his connection to the woman who carried the blood of Belenus in her. If Tolan had claimed the sunblood as his mate, that would explain the strength of their powers now.

  And it gave Hugh a weapon to use against him if needed.

  Once again, their ignorance would play against them and he would exploit it if necessary. Though, as Hugh watched this one consider his words, he almost hoped Tolan would join him of his own accord. That would allow Hugh to show the earthblood the full extent of what lay dormant within him even now. He’d had the same hope with his daughter and had begun that training with her, but it had been a complete failure.

  This did not have to be.

  Having the abilities and powers of the earth and sun, the two most powerful of all the ancients, at Hugh’s side—and Chaela’s—would make them invincible. He could not stop the shiver of anticipation that moved through his body, nor the torment that followed from his back.

  “I will think on this, my lord,” Tolan finally said.

  “Call me by my given name, Tolan. We are equals in too many ways to fall back to the expected courtesies of those who will serve the gods once more.”

  Hugh held out his hand now in greeting, as he would to those of the highest status in the land. Tolan hesitated for only a moment before grasping it in return. The earthblood wanted what Hugh and the goddess offered. He wanted . . . more. As the man stepped back and turned to leave, Hugh called out to him.

  “Two days, Tolan,” he said. “I need an answer in two days.”

  “Why?” the man asked.

  “The others gather to the south and prepare to destroy the circle you protect. We must open it first or they will.”

  The earthblood’s eyes widened and he nodded. Hugh watched him walk away, feeling the waves of power coming off him. Tolan had no idea. Simply no idea of what he truly carried in his blood. And Hugh intended to keep him ignorant for as long as possible.

  At least until Chaela once again walked the earth.

  To make that happen, Hugh understood now that he would need a means to his end—something or someone to use to ensure that Tolan and his sunblood cooperated. Hugh walked to the edge of the battlements and watched as Tolan mounted his horse and road through the gates toward the village.

  There was the sunblood herself, but Hugh could not risk harming her. Holding her would gain Tolan’s attention. But Hugh needed something to bring him to heel like a well-behaved bitch. For that, he needed someone else. Someone who could not fight back or defend himself against Hugh.

  Hugh smiled as Tolan disappeared into the heavily wooded village.

  Someone like a cousin . . . or a son.

  Hugh did not bother to send soldiers to follow Tolan now, as Geoffrey had done. He knew where the man would eventually turn up. From the curiosity in his voice and in his questions, Hugh suspected that Tolan would try to uncover the stones next.

  Then the true battle would begin.

  CHAPTER 16

  Thea waited near the abbey for Tolan to meet her.

  She’d spent most of the morning in the encampment across the river, and, true to their word, they brought her back here when she asked. Though they seemed guarded over some matters, she was surprised by how much they had shared.

  Whether they were right or misguided, she could tell that they believed they were on the side of right in this situation. Thea had felt the pain suffered by the losses they’d mentioned.

  Their need was plainly spoken—they asked her to bring Tolan to them so that they could all work to defeat the goddess whose followers threatened the future of everything she knew. Though convinced by what she’d witnessed within the circle—that all of the ancient ones worshipped as gods were both good and bad—the stories told of the one called Chaela were more than that.

  But they told of a power out of control and driven by a hunger that would not be appeased or satisfied until anyone who threatened or questioned her was destroyed.

  They spoke of an inherently evil creature who held nothing sacred except her own desires and aims. Even the Catholic priest agreed with them.

  So, did it mean that the fate of everyone alive and those yet to come sat in her and Tolan’s hands? How could that be possible? How could the two of them, raised in a village, now be so important in all this?

  As though her thoughts had conjured him, Tolan walked toward her, the reins to two horses in his hand. He smiled at her and nodded. Even from here, she could see that his eyes glowed, as those of the other men had. And she knew now that most everyone could not see them do that. Only those of power or those who were marked with one of the signs could.

  Tolan reached her and pulled her into his embrace. She would never tire of being held by him. Or kissed by him. Or being loved by him. No matter what came in the days ahead, she would treasure every moment. And she knew in her heart and soul that she would do whatever was necessary to protect him. She drew back and reached up to touch his face, caressing his cheek.

  “I find that any separation is too long to be away from you,” he admitted. Glancing around at where they stood, he smiled again. “Come. Let us get away from here.”

  She grabbed his hand and tugged him to stop.

  “They wish to speak with you,” she said, nodding back toward the river and the camp. “They asked me to bring you there.”

  “You spoke with them?”

  She nodded.

  “You spoke of me?”

  Another nod.

  “Was that wise?” he asked.

  “Tolan, they knew so much more than we do,” she explained, nodding once more. “I only gave your name. I did not share anything else about you. Only about me.”

  She’d spent time with their wounded and suffering. A terrible battle with the human followers of Chaela had resulted in many injuries and some deaths. Thea could help the battered and bruised and did so for them.

  “There are four of them there,” she said. “Can you feel them?” She waited and watched as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

  “Many more than the four,” he said. “Dozens and dozens, like those Lord Hugh has with him at the keep.”

  “You met him?” She shivered at the thought of someone who would forsake everything good, including his own flesh and blood, to carry out this war. “What is he like?”

  “A nobleman. I did not expect him to appear so . . . human after feeling the power he has. And with him controlling fire, I expected . . . a demonlike creature.”

  She shuddered at the thought and crossed herself. “His own daughter fights against him, Tolan.”

  He startled at that, surely thinking of him and Kirwyn being opposed to each other. And the seriousness of such a thing. Tolan stood in silence for a few moments, his body tense and his eyes glowing. “Take me to them.”

  She nodded and they walked hand in hand toward the river. The others stood waiting for them there, watching as they reached the bank. Instead of using the boat tied there, Tolan led her and the horses into the river. Without Tolan’s seeming to exert himself, the ground beneath the flowing water rose until they could make their way across it.

  When the horses balked, he tugged their reins tightly and led them the final steps. Thea turned back to look where they’d walked and saw that the river flowed deep and fast as it usua
lly did. He smiled then and squeezed her hand. As they reached the group of four, his smile disappeared.

  “Tolan, this is Sir William de Brus and his wife, Brienne.” She nodded at the tallest of the men and the lovely black-haired woman beside him. William offered his hand in greeting, carrying all the bearing of a nobleman, and Tolan accepted it.

  “You look familiar to me,” Tolan said softly, examining Brienne closely. Her flame-colored outline shone brightly then.

  “You have met my father, no doubt,” Brienne answered curtly. “We have the same coloring.” Though she might have meant the color of their hair and eyes, it was also true for the coloring that outlined her body.

  “Lord Hugh?” Tolan asked. Then he nodded, realizing that this was the daughter of whom Thea had spoken. “I have met him.”

  As Thea watched, William began to change, growing taller, wider, and more muscular . . . and blue! The changes and the growling sound that he made scared the horses away. Thea understood how they felt.

  “William,” Brienne said, placing her hand on the warblood, “all is well. We knew Hugh would seek him out.” The warrior transformed once more, turning back into a simple man, though his eyes remained red.

  “What did he say?” William asked, his voice somewhere between speaking and growling.

  “We know what he said,” Soren said, stepping forward to greet Tolan. “He told you a tale of a wronged goddess and his attempts to free her.”

  Tolan nodded.

  “What other lies did he try to woo you with?” Soren turned and spat on the ground as the winds began to whip around them.

  Clouds that had not been in the sky before gathered overhead. Thea glanced above and, with a thought, pushed the clouds aside to let the sunlight pass through once more. The others turned to her and Tolan raised an eyebrow.

  “This is Soren Thorson and his wife, Ran,” Brienne added before Tolan could answer. “They are from Orkney.”

  “So you are the four who sealed two of the gateways?” Tolan asked. The four nodded.

  “Along with the help of the priests and my men,” William added. “And not without a terrible cost. Hugh will sacrifice anyone who stands against him or help anyone who does.”

  Thea could see Tolan considering their words and knew that ’twas not his custom of doing things to immediately accept or deny another’s words or request. He would listen and think on it and decide. They had done that together before they’d gone off separately, and she knew they would again when he finished hearing their reasoning.

  The next hour passed slowly as the other four answered every question he asked—about their powers, about the ritual needed, and about their lives before and after finding out their true nature and their history. Many of them were the same ones she’d just asked, but they did not seem bothered to repeat their knowledge to him. Finally, when the bells of the abbey across the river chimed out that it was time for the holy office of sext, Tolan stood and thanked them.

  Although the others seemed willing to let him, them, leave, Corann walked closer and spoke to them.

  “What will you do?” the priest asked. The tone of his words was more challenge than question.

  “I need some time to speak with Elethea about this. It involves her risking her life as well as my own and I will not become part of it until I know the truth.”

  “But, my son,” Father Ander said, “they have spoken the truth to you.”

  “And Hugh has spoken his,” Tolan replied.

  Soren charged Tolan then, and as Thea watched in horror, the warblood rose again to his astounding and terrifying height and strode across the clearing toward them. Corann grabbed her and tugged her aside, clearly fearing the worst. In that moment, though, it was the Catholic priest who stood his ground, stepping between the three men and shouting until they stopped.

  “William! Soren!” he yelled. “Be at peace, my friends!” Father Ander pushed and pushed, even at the huge warblood, until they all stepped back. “Peace, I say unto you.”

  Out of breath from fighting all three, the priest pointed at each of them and motioned for them to remain away. When he caught his breath, he sighed.

  “Each of you had to make your own decision over this quest. It must be freely chosen and knowingly entered. Give them a chance to contemplate what they have heard,” he advised. Everyone stepped back then and accepted the priest’s admonishments.

  “I do have one more question,” Tolan said as the horses were brought to them. “If this ritual requires a priest and none of yours will help him, where does the fireblood get the one he needs?”

  “We know not,” Corann said. “Unless there are more like Ander, people raised near the stones who did not know of their place in this?”

  “Are there many of those?” Thea asked. She’d never thought about the necessary priest, either. Surely the fireblood would.

  “Until Einar and Ander, we thought we were the only ones of the priestly calling. Only those born on the island were raised to know the ways of our faith,” Corann explained.

  “And me.” Aislinn stepped forward as she spoke. “I was not born there.”

  The priests watching all drew in their breaths at the same moment, resulting in a loud gasp. Every one of them turned to the young woman. Her words had been either a shock or something forbidden for her to say. What had she revealed?

  “So there may be more priests than we know of, Corann,” Aislinn finished.

  “Pray to the gods, he does not find one to do his bidding, Aislinn,” Corann said.

  Tolan reached out to Thea and she took his hand. Whatever they did, they were doing this together. Thea had no doubt of their decision, but Tolan wished to speak to her about it and she was pleased. Jasper never asked her opinion or gave her a choice in any matter affecting her. To be valued and to have her thoughts taken seriously meant so much to her.

  If only . . .

  They rode north in silence. She knew their destination without a word spoken. With a glance, she kept the clouds away and the day warm and sunny. She could not move the earth or become other things, but at least her gift would keep the day a good one for traveling.

  * * *

  Geoffrey paced the length and breadth of his chamber again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d completed the twelve paces north to south and the fifteen paces east to west. It mattered not.

  Nothing mattered now.

  He was a dead man.

  His cousin did not forgive or forget. He mostly did what he wanted and everyone did as he said or got out of his way. They had grown up as boys on the family estates in Normandy and Brittany, and Geoffrey had been brought into the family’s true endeavor as a boy.

  And Geoffrey had understood his place and he had accepted his role in their ancient faith and plans. When ordered to move here and marry, he had done so without question, and he’d taken over the lands that his family had held for untold generations.

  When his cousin had sent word for him to be watchful, for the time had come for the rising of the bloodlines, he had been. He’d noticed something different about Tolan years ago and suspected he would play a part in this. When Hugh had demanded he search for a circle of standing stones, he went. He traveled for weeks and weeks using everything and everyone at his disposal to try to locate the one.

  He’d even taken Tolan along, hoping he would give some sign of his knowledge. Geoffrey should not be held accountable if the man did not.

  He stopped his pacing and drank deeply from the cup on the table at his bedside. Rich wine from the vineyards in Brittany filled his mouth and refreshed his dry throat. But it would not help what he would face when his cousin discovered the secret he carried.

  Walking to the branch of candles near the door, he tugged the sleeve of his robe up and gazed on the mark that would mean his death. Not one like his cousin’s, showing that he carr
ied the blood of the fire goddess within in. Nay, that would have been a sign of the truth of his life—he worshipped her, as did every other male in their family.

  Nay, he was marked as something else entirely. His skin had burned and blistered into the form of a man, sketched in small streaks.

  The mark of the priests.

  The priests who worshipped Chaela’s enemies.

  He thrust his fingers into his hair and held his head, moaning out in pain and fear. Falling to his knees, Geoffrey tried to think of a way out of this terrible predicament.

  He could not and would not betray his cousin or their family, especially not when he knew the consequences of such betrayal. Geoffrey had watched with his own eyes as Hugh had called forth his power and burned men to ashes with a word or a glance. He shook now, unable to control the fear at his fate.

  So caught up in his misery was he that the door opening caught him unawares. He jumped to his feet and faced Hugh as he entered the chamber unbidden and uninvited.

  “What ails you, Geoffrey? Your cries can be heard down the corridor,” his cousin said, staring at him. “Should I call that healer from the village?”

  He’d already told Hugh about the woman who shared Tolan’s bed, the one he’d been watching for years, and who gave every sign of being a bloodline. Her abilities had soared recently and her outrageous successes were being spoken of through the village and the keep. And when Tolan suggested marriage to her, Geoffrey intervened as he knew he must.

  “Nay,” he said, shaking his head as he stood before the man who would speak a word and end his life. Geoffrey could not see a way out of this now and the place on his arm burned again to remind him of his fate. How did one throw oneself on the mercy of someone who had none?

  “Hugh. Cousin. My lord,” he finally said, “I have always been faithful to you and our family and our goddess. You know this to be true,” he added, bowing low. “I beg you. . . .”