Journey To The Rift (Coimirceoirí: Guardians of the Marked Ones)

by Cathi Shaw

  But the question remained, how did they know she had it? It seemed more than likely that her mentor had discovered the missing map and had set the intruders after them. Weylon bit back a growl. That’s what he hated most about this business: they didn’t know who they could trust.

  He returned to his own room and put the map on the small side table beside the bed. He looked at it closely. It was definitely an Elder map, and the only people who knew they were going this way were the Elder knights who accompanied them and those who were close to the Crown Prince.

  Weylon studied the map long into the night, committing as much of it as he could to his memory. He stood in front of the dying fire and considered burning it before he made up his mind and shoved it into his jacket. It was dangerous to be carrying the map, but he couldn’t be sure he had it completely committed to memory. And besides, Brijit was just starting to open up to him. If he destroyed the map she had let him borrow, he would ruin any chances of finding out what other secrets his Coimirceoirí partner was keeping. No, he would hold on to the map for now because if one thing was certain, it was that the girl had more secrets than she had revealed tonight. And after what he’d seen of her gifts, that scared Weylon.

  Chapter Eight

  As they continued the journey in the days that followed, Weylon and Brijit settled into an uneasy comradery. Now that she had dropped her act of playing dumb, he found she was much as he’d imagined her to be when he’d first noticed her at the Academy. Serious, smart and with a spark of fire that made him like her even more than he thought he would.

  He also noticed how the Elders interacted with her, something he hadn’t paid attention to before. They treated her with almost a kind of respect. He wasn’t sure if she was aware of this attitude, but it was there. They had been told that this one was special; Weylon was sure of it. It should have made him jealous, but it didn’t. It just made him feel more protective of her.

  Five days after their stop in at the inn, they arrived in another small village. Weylon had been trying to track their journey on Brijit’s stolen map, but he had little luck. If he was reading their direction correctly, and he swore he was, then they were heading West. But on the map, there were no villages. There was nothing until Jirgen Forest, the rumored dying woods that were filled with monsters tainted by the dark, and after that Tèarmann. It was as though these villages did not exist, neither on the maps that he had studied at Stone Mountain nor on the Elder-made one.

  Weylon felt his anger flare. It shouldn’t be surprising that these villages were not on the Elder map. The people who lived in these small, westerly settlements were not important to the Elders. They saw them as nothing, which could be the reason they were not mapped. But they also were strictly rationed on magikal use. They were left to survive as best as they could in an increasing inhospitable environment. The remoteness of their location and proximity to The Rift meant that nothing grew in abundance here. The people who lived in these villages had hard lives. If the Elders had allowed the villages’ wise women to use even a small amount of magik, they could have improved their lot. But the Elders were unmoved by their peril.

  The irony was that when their oppressors came to town, the villagers were forced to serve them the best of everything. They desperately needed the supplies and cash the travelers brought with them more than they needed their pride.

  Weylon knew better than to voice his disgust to the Elder knights they traveled with. In fact, Brijit and he had spoken very little to them. Brijit had become more open with Weylon and more distrustful of the Elders since the attack in the inn. Weylon had convinced her that they should keep that incident to themselves. She had readily agreed.

  How far they’d traveled westward was difficult to say. They had left the Academy a month earlier. They were now in a part of Five Corners he’d never explored before. His best guess was that they were below Séreméla’s borders. If they turned due north, he was fairly certain they would pass into that land. But they did not turn north, and there was no indication that they would change their westerly course any time soon.

  Just as Brijit and Weylon had not known the name of the last village they were in, they were ignorant of this village’s name. There were no placards or signs indicating the name of the place, and the Elders they were traveling with certainly didn’t play tour guide. Weylon wondered if it had a name at all. He wasn’t precisely sure what to expect, but as they rode into the town, he was surprised by what he saw.

  The village was tiny, not even big enough to be called a town. The villagers were amongst the poorest he’d ever seen. Their clothing was ragged and their cheeks were hollow and hungry. They flocked to their doors to watch them arrive, curious but not seeming too surprised to see Elders in their village. That was strange. What could a little settlement like this offer to the Elders on a regular basis?

  Beriadan stopped outside a rundown house, barely more than a shack. He went inside, leaving them where they were on the street. Weylon looked at Brijit, who exchanged a puzzled glance with him. When the Elder returned, he nodded at his companion who then gestured for Brijit to accompany them inside. Weylon started to dismount.

  “Just her,” Beriadan told him.

  Weylon straightened and looked at them, his senses suddenly on high alert. What did they want Brijit for?

  Brijit froze in her saddle. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  “He is not needed. He can stay out here.”

  Weylon settled back into his saddle, unease threading through him. He saw how white-knuckled Brijit’s hands were on her reins.

  She did not dismount. “I would prefer that he accompany me.”

  Weylon looked at her in surprise. She met his gaze steadily. And she opened her feelings to him, clearly radiating trust toward him…and uncertainty toward the Elders. He flexed his shoulders and made a decision. He was not going to let Brijit go into that dwelling without him.

  The tall Elder stepped closer and grasped the bridle of Brijit’s horse. He shook his head. “That is not necessary.”

  Brijit straightened in her saddle and looked down at him. “It is necessary if you want me to go into that dwelling. I will not enter it without my fellow Coimirceoirí.”

  Weylon was surprised by her firm tone; it went against the fear and uncertainty he knew she was feeling. She was doing a good job of cloaking her real emotions from the Elders. Weylon stared at her in awe – he had never known anyone who could open herself to one person while still shielding her feelings from others.

  If the Elders were surprised by Brijit’s refusal to go with them, they didn’t show it. But, then again, they rarely displayed any kind of emotion, and they were always shielded. It was impossible to probe the mind of an Elder. Beriadan just inclined his head and the tall Elder stepped away from Brijit’s mount.

  Brijit turned and looked at Weylon once again. He nodded and dismounted. Only when his feet were on the ground did she slip from her saddle to stand next to him. He looked over at her, but she was now focused on the home in front of them. Straightening her spine, she stepped up to the wooden door. He felt her fear for one moment longer and then she shielded herself completely

  The Elders watched them with narrowed eyes but didn’t try to stop Weylon from following Brijit into the house.

  #

  Brijit took a deep breath before pushing the door to the cottage open. She couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that was sweeping over her. Something was not right in this place. Even Weylon’s presence behind her did little to calm her nerves.

  The inside of the cottage was dark and dank, and there was the musty odor of dust and disuse. If Brijit hadn’t been brought inside by the Elders she would have assumed the place had been deserted years ago.

  Beriadan stepped around her once she was in the small entrance to the house.

  “Bellasiel, we are here,” he called into the darkness.

  To Brijit’s surprise, a female Elder came down the stairs and spoke to him in a
dialect of their language that she didn’t recognize. The woman had hair so pale it was almost white although her face didn’t bear a single wrinkle or line. She turned to Brijit.

  “Come, Coimirceoirí. You are needed.”

  Brijit looked back at Weylon. He shook his head slightly. His expression was just as mystified as her own. Brijit’s heart kicked into high gear as she began to follow the woman up the stairs. Suddenly she felt Weylon’s hand on her shoulder in a surprisingly reassuring gesture. Unexpectedly a sense of calm swept through her.

  The stairs creaked under their weight, but Brijit was focused on the noises that were coming from the upper floor. A woman was sobbing and gasping. Someone was in pain. Brijit began to step faster.

  Bellasiel led her into a bed chamber that had obviously not been used for a long time. There was a thick layer of dust on all the dark, heavy furniture in the room. But she soon forgot the neglected state of the room as her attention was claimed by the young woman who was moaning on the bed.

  As Brijit stepped closer, she realized the woman was younger than she had first thought. In fact, she was around her own age, perhaps eighteen. Her dark hair was plastered to her head by sweat and she was clearly in the latter stages of labor. And she was struggling.

  “How long has she been like this?” Brijit demanded, but Bellasiel ignored her. How and why this poor girl had come into the hands of the Elders was a mystery to Brijit. But there were more immediate worries at hand. She had started helping her grandmother bring children into the world from the time she could walk, and she was good at it. She had helped birth more than twenty babies before her tenth birthday and had been recognized as a midwife in her village from that time until she’d left to go to the Academy three years later. And all her experience told her that the girl in front of her was in danger.

  “I need hot water and some clean towels. Can you manage that?” Brijit asked the Elders who were standing to one side of the room looking at the girl with distrust.

  “Can you manage that?” Brijit repeated, but it was Weylon who answered.

  “I will see what I can find.”

  Brijit was flabbergasted as to why the Elders were just watching the girl suffer. There was no need for her to be in such pain. Shaking her head, she turned to her.

  “Try to calm down,” she said softly reaching out and touching her sweat-soaked head. “I can help you but fighting this will only tire you out.”

  “They want to take it,” the girl panted. “Don’t let them take my baby.”

  Brijit looked over to where Bellasiel and Beriadan were standing impassively. “Can you leave the room? You are only agitating her.”

  When they both stood as if she had not said a word, anger flared through Brijit.

  “Leave the room now or you risk the death of both mother and child.”

  That finally got their attention.

  “We will be right outside the room,” Beriadan told her gruffly.

  Brijit nodded and turned back to the sobbing girl.

  “What is your name?” she asked softly.

  “Ana,” she whispered. “Why is this happening?”

  “Babies tend to come when they are ready, my dear. Try to calm down, you are not helping yourself or your little one.”

  “No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Ana’s eyes rolled in her head and she began sobbing again. “They will take him. They will take him. It’s to punish me.”

  Weylon came into the room with some hot water and surprisingly clean cloths.

  “What else do you need?” he asked.

  “In my saddle bags you will find a small bag that holds a collection of medicines. Can you bring it to me? I want to give her something to help ease her pain.”

  He nodded and disappeared again. Brijit washed her hands and began examining the girl as best she could, but Ana was writhing so much on the bed that it was a challenge.

  “Ana. Please, calm yourself. Your baby is going to come. There is nothing we can do to stop it.”

  Brijit did not want to ask Ana why she thought the Elders would want to punish her. She wanted to stop her child from being born. The terror that was emanating from her was obvious. It clearly had something to do with the Elders, but Brijit couldn’t fathom what that might be. Taking a deep breath, Brijit reached out and placed her hands on Ana’s head. She focused on opening and was at once assaulted with so many emotions she almost lost her footing.

  Refocusing, she let Ana’s emotions pour through her, as she had been taught. Ana was terrified of the Elders. Brijit already knew that, but she could not “ask” the emotions why – she could only open to emotion not to facts. But suddenly she had a strong vision of the triquetra on a chain around Ana’s neck. Brijit reached under Ana’s shift and felt the familiar pewter she wore around her own neck. Ana was Kurunii.

  Ana began thrashing, trying to push her hand aside.

  “Calm down,” Brijit said softly, and she reached into her own tunic and pulled out her grandmother’s pendant.

  Ana’s eyes widened, and she met Brijit’s gaze.

  “Ana, I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “You can’t stop them. That’s all they do is hurt and take. Look at our village. They have ravaged it. Look at me.” She sobbed. “And now they will take the only thing that is mine.”

  Brijit was shocked. “Ana, what do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  “They think it is theirs. But it is mine. Mine. I won’t let them have him.”

  “Ana, calm yourself. No one is going to hurt your baby. You need to calm down and focus on breathing.”

  Weylon returned with her medicine bag in his hand. Brijit was reaching for it when Ana started screaming.

  “What is happening?” Weylon asked.

  “I don’t…” Brijit’s eyes widened in horror as she saw the blood beginning to pool beneath Ana. She was hemorrhaging.

  “Ana?” Brijit asked as she prepared to catch the baby.

  Ana moaned at them, “Don’t let them have him.” And then her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.

  The baby landed in Brijit’s hands. He was a large babe, with a shock of blond hair and distinctively Elder eyes. An Elder/Kurunii child. Brijit look up to where Ana lay unconscious. There was too much blood pooling beneath her.

  Handing the baby to Weylon, Brijit moved to Ana’s side but the girl was deathly white and not breathing. She felt for a pulse but there was none. Ana was dead.

  “Brijit?” She looked over to where Weylon was awkwardly holding the strangely silent child.

  “She’s dead,” she whispered. “Give me the child.”

  Cradling the small boy, she stepped across the room to where the warm water and towels were placed. She began to clean the baby off, surprised by the way he was studying her. A newborn rarely responded to birthing in this way. Gently Brijit ran the rag over him, cleaning the mucus and blood from his pale skin. She turned him to clean his back and gasped.

  “What is it?” Weylon asked.

  Brijit stared at the abnormality on the child’s shoulder. A black mark exactly like the one she had seen on the dead child in Merryville was outlined on his pale skin. She studied it up close. It wasn’t like a birth mark – she had seen plenty of those, including the well-known wine marks that children were sometimes born with. But this was different. A perfectly circular mark with a triquetra within it. It had the appearance of a tattoo but that was impossible – the child had just been born.

  Brijit lifted the child gently so Weylon could see his back. “What is it?” he asked as he stepped closer and traced the mark with his index finger. “A triquetra? But that’s the mark for…” Weylon trailed off as horror filled his dark eyes.

  “The Kurunii, I know.”

  Weylon backed away from the child, shaking his head. “What kind of dark magik is this?”

  “I don’t know,” Brijit whispered, making the decision to not share the fact that Ana was Kurunii or that Brijit likely was as w
ell. She didn’t want that look of disgust and horror on Weylon’s face directed at her. She wondered what about the Kurunii so repulsed him?

  Weylon’s met her gaze, his dark eyes full of questions. “Have you seen this before?”

  Brijit nodded but before she could speak, the baby’s howls filled the air. Before she could swaddle the child Bellasiel burst into the room. She crossed to where Brijit and Weylon were without a second glance at Ana. It was as if she expected the girl to be dead. Bellasiel moved to take the child. Don’t let them take him, Ana’s words filled Brijit’s mind and she instinctively stepped away.

  “What are you doing, Coimirceoirí?”

  Brijit met Weylon’s eyes, silently imploring him to help, and he stepped to block the Elder’s progress. Bellasiel called out in her language and the door burst open to reveal the warriors who had accompanied them. The threat was obvious.

  “Give me the child, Brijit.”

  Realizing the futility of fighting to keep the boy, Brijit reluctantly handed him over. The female Elder turned him, as if expecting to see the Mark on the child’s shoulder. She let out an Elder curse, and before either Brijit or Weylon could react had removed a golden dagger from her belt.

  “No!” Brijit screamed but was helpless to do more than watch as Bellasiel quickly and savagely cut the newborn’s throat.

  Weylon grabbed Brijit before she could launch herself at the Elder.

  “Go,” Bellasiel said gutturally.

  A sob rose from Brijit’s throat as she saw the baby’s blood mingled with his mother’s on the floor. Suddenly she felt very, very weak. Weylon’s arm around her tightened and he led her to the door.

  Before they stepped through it, Bellasiel said, “And, Coimirceoirí,” her voice was hoarse with emotion, “forget what you have seen here.”

  #

  Brijit stood by her horse looking up at the house where Ana and her child had died. The Elder knights had not seemed perturbed by the deaths. They were used to seeing horrors in the battles they had fought. To Brijit, however, the nightmarish scene played over and over in her mind.