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

by Cathi Shaw

  Brijit shook her head. “I brewed him a healing tonic.”

  Nestariel turned and looked at her sharply. “Made from what?”

  Brijit swallowed. “A red mushroom that grew in the forest.”

  “Jirgen Forest? Nothing grows there.”

  Brijit didn’t say anything.

  “How did you know to find these mushrooms?” Nestariel asked, suddenly suspicious.

  Brijit pressed her lips together. She didn’t know if it was wise to tell the healer about her communication with her grandmother.

  Nestariel crossed her arms. “You’d best tell me so I can mitigate any damage that has been done.”

  “No damage has been done. He was dying and the tonic saved him, just as Grandmamma said it would.”

  Nestariel raised her eyebrows. “Your grandmother told you about these mushrooms? When? And more importantly, how?”

  When Brijit didn’t answer, Nestariel grasped her by the shoulders in a grip far stronger than Brijit would have expected from such an old woman. She reached under Brijit’s tunic and found the pendant.

  Her breath sucked in, and she dropped the pendant just as quickly as she had touched it.

  “Ah, a triquetra. It begins to make sense.”

  Brijit wondered what the old woman knew about the rune. She opened her mouth to ask but then closed it, not sure it was wise to trust this woman.

  “You used this to visit your grandmother from the Jirgen Forest?” Nestariel asked.

  Brijit nodded.

  Nestariel shook her head and turned away.

  “My grandmother gave it to me so I could contact her if I needed to.”

  “Your grandmother is now dead.”

  Brijit’s heart stopped painfully as she remembered her grandmother’s words. That she would not see Brijit again in the living world. “What?” How could Nestariel know such a thing? “No, I don’t believe you.”

  The Elder turned back quickly and glared at Brijit. “If you contacted her from the Dead Zone with such a talisman, the evil from the forest would have found its way through the pendant and entered her home. If she is not dead yet, she soon will be.”

  Brijit remembered the hissing of Rufus as her vision ended and her grandmother’s adamant statement that she would not see her in this realm again.

  “No,” Brijit whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Nestariel softened slightly. “You could not have known it would happen, but your grandmother most likely did. She gave you that talisman to protect you, and she knew that if you used it in time of great need, then she ran the risk of losing her own life to whatever was threatening you. She obviously felt it was worth the risk.”

  Tears blurred Brijit’s eyes as she thought of how selfless her grandmother had been for her entire life. She had let Brijit leave her even when it was not what her grandmother had wanted. She had helped her find a cure for Weylon even though she clearly thought it would be better for him to die. Her grandmother was the most giving person Brijit had ever met. And now…what had she done? Brijit collapsed onto the floor, her stomach churning with the knowledge that, if what Nestariel said were true, she had effectively killed her grandmother.

  “You must grieve, child, but first you must tell me everything. I know it will be difficult, but I must know what your grandmother told you.”

  Brijit looked up at the Elder blearily, her mind racing with grief and shame.

  Nestariel knelt beside her and took her face in her lined hands. “Brijit, it is important that you tell me this now. I can’t help you or your friend unless I know the truth.”

  Brijit nodded. There was nothing she could do for her grandmother now but she could help Weylon.

  “Grandmamma said the tonic would spare Weylon’s life, but she also said it wouldn’t remove all the poison from him. She warned me that saving him would mean that his life would forever be tainted by the darkness.”

  Nestariel narrowed her eyes. “So she knew that but she still told you how to save him.” The Elder stood suddenly and began pacing. “Why would she do such a thing?”

  Brijit knew. Her grandmother loved her and she had seen how important Weylon had become to her. But also her grandmother was essentially a healer at heart. She would never let any being die if she thought there was a possibility for them to live.

  “I don’t know. She just…my grandmother was a healer. If she could spare someone’s life she would.”

  “At any cost?” Nestariel didn’t wait for Brijit to answer. “Never mind.” She waved her hand vaguely in front of her face and turned her attention back to where Weylon was lying on the bed. Then she stretched out her hand and helped Brijit to her feet. “How long has he been unconscious?”

  Brijit swallowed. “Two days.”

  Nestariel nodded thoughtfully. “Then it is time he wakes. Let’s see what damage has been done, shall we?”

  Brijit’s heart started to pound. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see what Weylon would be like when he woke. She remembered how dark his mind had been when she’d entered it. She didn’t want to think about what that darkness would look like in conscious form.

  Pushing her thoughts aside, Brijit watched as the Elder healer began running her hands over Weylon’s forehead and chanting in the ancient Elder language. Although she wasn’t completely fluent in the language, Brijit didn’t recognize the dialect Nestariel was using.

  At first nothing seemed to be happening, and then Brijit saw Weylon’s fingers begin to twitch ever so slightly. After a few moments a low groan escaped from him.

  “Weylon, can you hear me?” Brijit moved to the side of the bed and took his hand instinctively.

  Nestariel stopped her chanting and looked a Brijit with raised eyebrows. Her gaze dropped to where Brijit’s fingers were laced with Weylon’s. Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she shook her head in disappointment at Brijit. Apparently Nestariel was more perceptive than Brijit had given her credit for.

  But Brijit ignored her and focused instead on Weylon, who was opening his eyes.

  “Brijit?” His voice was raspy and weak from disuse.

  She nodded. “I’m here.”

  He gave a weak smile. “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay.”

  “Weylon, you were attacked. What do you remember?”

  He looked around his surroundings. When his gaze fell on Nestariel, he struggled to sit up, but Brijit put her hand on his chest and gently pushed down, hoping to reassure him. He looked around the room franticly. “Where are we?”

  “We are safe for now. We are with the Elders,” Brijit soothed.

  Weylon only looked more panicked. Nestariel spoke then.

  “I am Nestariel. You are at Tèarmann, my home. And you are safe for as long as you are within the walls and do no one here harm.”

  Brijit looked at Nestariel in surprise. “Why do you think he might hurt anyone?” she asked in confusion.

  Nestariel did not answer. Instead she turned to Brijit. “Now that you’ve seen he is well you need to rest yourself. I will escort you to your chambers.”

  Brijit opened her mouth to protest. She wanted to make sure Weylon was quite well. And she wanted to talk to him about what happened. But before she could say a word, Nestariel cut her off.

  “You came here for a purpose, Brijit, and that purpose was not to care for your fellow Coimirceoirí.” Her voice was steely and tinged with a hint of warning. “I am the healer in this dwelling, and I will take care of him.”

  “It’s okay, Brijit,” Weylon said weakly. “Nestariel is right. You look exhausted. Get some rest and I will see you soon.” He squeezed her fingers tightly. She felt a gentle prodding at her mind, but Brijit kept her shield in place, ignoring the look of hurt on Weylon’s face. She wasn’t ready to open her mind to Weylon just yet, not after what had happened in the forest. She didn’t yet want to know if his mind was free or not. At the moment she just wanted to keep those dark voices at bay.

  “Weylon needs sleep as well,” Nestari
el said. Brijit knew the Elder was right.

  “Okay. I will check on you tomorrow,” she told him.

  The hurt disappeared. She hoped he just thought she was tired.

  He smiled faintly and then closed his eyes again.

  Brijit gave his fingers a final squeeze before she turned and followed Nestariel out of the room.

  They had not gone more than a few feet from the closed door to Weylon’s room when Nestariel turned to her in anger. “How could you have become intimate with a Coimirceoirí? You know the rules. You are bound to the Elders and forbidden to have relations.”

  Brijit stepped back as if the woman had struck her.

  “We are not intimate,” she denied in horror.

  Nestariel shook her head. “Perhaps not physically but you have bonded emotionally, and I don’t mean in the way that is common for Coimirceoirí.” The old woman glared at her. “You stupid, stupid girl!”

  Brijit bristled at that. “Another Elder rule meant to control Coimirceoirí?” she asked bitterly.

  Nestariel paused and then laughed. “Is that what you think? That these rules exist for your punishment?”

  Brijit flushed at the mocking tone in the Elder’s voice.

  “Listen, my child, the last time two chosen Coimirceoirí bonded, two who only had a fraction of the gifts you and that boy have, the safety of both Séreméla and the entire Five Corners was threatened.”

  Brijit’s heart dropped. “Who were they?” she whispered even though she already knew the answer.

  “Ester and Kale.”

  When Nestariel saw the horror on Brijit’s face, she gentled her tone. “I see they do teach you some things at that decrepit old Academy, anyway.” Suddenly she looked up and down the hallway and said in a hushed tone, “We will speak more in your room.”

  With that she began striding quickly down the hallway. The passage ended in a stairwell, which Nestariel started to climb. Three stories, later she led Brijit down another hallway and then finally stopped outside a door.

  She opened it and beckoned to her. Inside was a large bed that immediately grabbed Brijit’s attention. In the corner was a porcelain washing tub that had been filled recently with steaming water. Brijit longed to soak the grime of the journey off her and then fall into the bed.

  Nestariel seemed to read her mind. “You may soak while we talk,” she said.

  Brijit hesitated, not wanting to disrobe in front of this ancient Elder whom she’d just met.

  Nestariel just stood there looking at her. “Don’t be bashful. I’ve seen more bodies than you can imagine. Your water is getting cold.”

  Brijit glanced at the tub and saw rose petals floating on the surface. Throwing caution to the wind, she pulled off her grimy clothes and sunk into the warm water with a sigh of contentment.

  “Now, let us talk about what you have done,” Nestariel said.

  Brijit’s opened her eyes and looked at the old woman. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The Elder now had her trapped in the water and could interrogate as much as she wished.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Brijit insisted.

  “Haven’t you? The fact that you can’t see what you’ve done should be enough proof that you have no idea what you are getting into.”

  Brijit stared at the old woman in confusion.

  “What do you mean what I’m getting into?”

  Nestariel sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over her face. She looked old and tired. It was disconcerting to see an Elder like Nestariel. Brijit was so accustomed to seeing Elders who were youthful and flawless. She wondered why Nestariel was different.

  Brijit sunk deeper in her tub, willing the warm water to chase away the chill that suddenly gripped her.

  “I’m sorry, Brijit, but the Coimirceoirí have always been pawns of the Elders. You have been brought here for a specific purpose.” She paused. “And your friend for another one. If the Elders know that you have feelings for one another, they will do everything they can to punish you. Normally they would simply separate you, but things are more complicated than that. Your fates are tied up together, and with the plans they have for you…” She shook her snowy head. “I can’t explain it all to you tonight. Things were complicated enough before you started a relationship with Weylon, but they are more convoluted now.”

  Weylon and her hardly had a relationship and certainly not in the way that Nestariel was suggesting. But…Brijit paused for a moment.

  “What makes it more convoluted?” Brijit asked.

  “Weylon should have died in Jirgen Forest. No one, not even an Elder, survives an attack from the Aptrgangr.”

  Brijit stared at Nestariel, the earlier horror she’d felt beginning to build in her chest again.

  The old woman took a deep breath and then continued. “No one knows precisely what the Aptrgangr are, but they have somehow emerged from The Rift, itself a place of great evil. Once an Aptrgangr has feasted on a creature, man or beast, there is no hope for survival. So what your grandmother told you is sacred information.”

  She paused and stared out the window at the gathering dusk. “Do you know how your grandmother came to know of these mushrooms that you gave Weylon?”

  Brijit shook her head. She had no idea how her grandmother had known of such things. She hadn’t questioned it at the time. After all, her grandmother had always been a great healer. “I assumed she got it from one of her books or scrolls.”

  Nestariel’s eyes turned to Brijit and sharpened with interest. “Your grandmother had scrolls?”

  Brijit nodded. “She had a great library that took up far too much of her small dwelling. She insisted on keeping everything, though. She said each one contained precious information.”

  “A mere village healer had such a complete library?” Nestariel began muttering to herself. Slowly her eyes focused on Brijit again. “Never mind, it will have to wait for another time.”

  Brijit didn’t ask what the old woman was muttering about. Instead, she asked what had been bothering her most. “Why was saving Weylon so bad?” she asked quietly.

  Now Nestariel’s expression turned to one of sympathy.

  “Because my child, you couldn’t save him. He was already gone. All you did was prolong the inevitable. The poison that is left in his system will slowly, over time, eat away at the Weylon you know until nothing good is left.”

  Brijit shook her head, refusing to believe it. Weylon had seemed just like himself when he woke.

  “It could take decades for the full extent of the damage to be complete,” Nestariel explained. “I’m sorry, child. I know it would have been difficult to see someone you love die in your arms in such a way. But now you must watch him be eaten slowly from within. And that will be infinitely worse.”

  Brijit looked down at the now-wilted rose petals sinking to the bottom of her bath. She remembered the red eyes and matted fur of the creature that had attacked Weylon. Had she condemned him to one day evolve into something like that beast? Suddenly Brijit wanted out of the tub.

  Nestariel, as if reading her mind, handed her a warm towel and gestured toward a clean white nightgown, laid out on the foot of the bed.

  “I suggest you get some rest while you can. Your work here is just about to begin.” And with those last words the Elder turned and left the chamber.

  Chapter Eleven

  As soft and appealing as the bed was after weeks on the road, Brijit had a restless night spent tossing and turning. As much as she tried, she couldn’t chase Nestariel’s words from her mind. The idea that Weylon was somehow infected with the poison was difficult to accept. But she couldn’t forget the voices that had whispered to her from Weylon’s mind.

  She remembered, too, her grandmother’s warning. She had predicted that Weylon would be the end of Brijit. Her grandmother had told her that it was her fate. Brijit hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now Nestariel had essentially said the same thing. Brijit couldn’t help wondering if there could be some truth to her grand
mother’s warning?

  When she’d finally fallen asleep it had been in the early morning hours, and it seemed like just moments after she’d settled before a knock on her door woke her.

  A young Elder girl of exquisite beauty opened the door and looked in at her with the friendliest smile she’d seen on the face of any Elder.

  “Hello, Brijit! I’m Raina,” she announced as she placed a tray of fruit next to the bed.

  Brijit sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  “Oh, you still look so tired,” Raina said with sympathy. “I’m so sorry but I have to wake you and get you ready.”

  “Ready?” Brijit asked.

  The girl nodded. “For your meeting with Princess Neirdre.”

  Brijit snapped awake. She’d had no idea she was meeting with Princess Neirdre that morning.

  She looked at Raina in alarm. The girl smiled sympathetically.

  “Here, eat something, while I lay out some clean clothing for you,” Raina said as she handed Brijit the plate of fruit.

  Brijit watched as the girl crossed to the closet and pulled out a dress made of soft peach fabric and lay it on the foot of the bed.

  “What is she like?” Brijit asked as she nibbled on a strawberry.

  Raina paused and seemed to consider her answer for a few moments. Then she smiled.

  “She is like a princess,” she said cheerfully as if that explained everything.

  Brijit frowned.

  “Don’t worry, you will do fine,” Raina soothed when she saw Brijit’s expression.

  But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She had no idea why she was here or meeting with Princess Neirdre and yet everyone was acting as if she should know exactly what was going on.

  Raina held up the dress invitingly, and Brijit stood up. There was only one way to find out the reasons for her being here: she would have to meet the princess.

  #

  The princess of the Elders was a woman who possessed an ethereal beauty so perfect that tears pricked at Brijit’s eyes when she saw her. Despite her great beauty, at first Princess Neirdre seemed to be kind and welcoming. Brijit sank into a curtsy, but Princess Neirdre took her hand and lifted her out of it almost immediately.