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

by Cathi Shaw

  Weylon returned from the town with a strong horse and a sturdy wagon. Nestariel instructed them to begin packing the books and scrolls into it at once. Brijit watched Weylon as they worked together. His jaw was set, and she could feel the anger radiating from him. Her stomach churned. She longed to explain to him what happened, but one look at the stony expression on his face told her he wasn’t in the mood to listen to her.

  She sighed and returned to the house for an armful of scrolls. When she brought them out to the wagon, he turned on her.

  “I suppose you want these so you can continue studying the black arts,” he snarled, and Brijit recoiled as if struck.

  “No!” she protested.

  Weylon just shook his head and turned back to the half-full wagon bed.

  “Why don’t you believe me when I say I have no interest in these things?”

  He looked down at her. “You’re unreal. You are Kurunii and according to Nestariel your grandmother has one of the most complete libraries of magikal books that she’s seen in all of Five Corners. It all belongs to you now.” He gestured toward the piles of books and scrolls neatly stacked in the wagon. “I would think you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them.”

  Brijit felt her chin quiver, but she took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay away. “I have never taken an interest in my grandmother’s books.”

  “Oh, really? So what you did in the wood just came naturally?” he spat at her, his anger radiating from him.

  “No! I didn’t know what to do, Weylon. You were dying and I was desperate.”

  “So you decided magik would be the way to heal me?”

  Brijit stepped back. “I didn’t think about it. I called to my grandmother because she was the most gifted healer I had ever known. I thought if I could contact her, then maybe she would tell me how I could heal you.”

  He was staring at her in horror.

  “What?”

  He shook his head, “You were able to contact her here from Jirgen Forest?”

  Slowly Brijit nodded.

  He was looking at her with disgust in his eyes now. “You’re even more powerful than I thought. No wonder the Elders want to keep you under their noses.”

  The tears were hovering on her eyelashes. Brijit blinked rapidly; she would not let them fall. “I was desperate for help to heal you, Weylon.”

  His tone was nasty as he spat, “And your grandmother was happy to give you that help, wasn’t she?”

  “No!” Brijit was shouting now. “No, she wasn’t. She said I should let you die, okay? I chose to save you because I –” she broke off before she finished the sentence. Because I love you.

  Brijit looked at him. His dark eyes were almost black with his raging emotions. He was beyond understanding. “The Elder knights wanted to kill you on the spot.”

  “And you should have let them,” Weylon snapped.

  Brijit felt as if she had been slapped. The tears spilled over, splashing hotly down her cheeks. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should have let him die.

  “I couldn’t,” she whispered.

  Weylon jumped down from the wagon and stood in front of her. “And why couldn’t you, Brijit? Was it because you thought my life would be better to live like this, with this darkness in me? Did you think we would be even better partners if I had a touch of evil to match your own?”

  “No!” Brijit shook her head in denial taking a step back from him. She hadn’t thought any such thing. “I didn’t even know my grandmother’s cure involved the use of magik.”

  “Really?” Weylon sounded skeptical. “Come on, you’re not as stupid as you like to pretend you are.”

  “She told me I would find mushrooms growing in the woods, and then she told me how to cook them into a brew that would save you.”

  “And you didn’t question that? You knew that nothing grows in Jirgen Forest. And you’d seen enough to question anything that did grow there.”

  Brijit looked at her feet. He was right. She had known just how dead that wood had been, how devoid of life, and yet she hadn’t questioned it. She had trusted her grandmother, and she had been desperate to save Weylon. She had been thankful to find the mushrooms and to be able to save him. And now he hated her for it. She looked at him sadly.

  “I…I’m sorry, Weylon.”

  “Saying sorry doesn’t make this better. I still have to live with this…” he pounded his chest, “this thing inside me. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  Brijit just stared at him. She had no words. She didn’t really know how it felt. But she could guess. She had been inside Weylon’s head, if only for a few moments, and it had been horrible.

  If she had known he wished to die, she would have let him. At least she thought she would have. But then again, maybe she wouldn’t have. Maybe she couldn’t have.

  He shook his head in disgust. “Stay away from me,” he said and then turned and walked away.

  Brijit let the tears fall then. It seemed that everything she was trying to do only ended up in failure. And saving Weylon seemed to be her biggest failure so far.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ten days after they returned to the fortress, Princess Neirdre went into labor. Brijit and Erulassë were with her.

  As is often the case with a first child, the birthing was not easy. It was made more difficult by Princess Neirdre’s almost constant complaints. “It hurts,” she moaned to Brijit as the contractions gripped her body.

  “I know,” Brijit murmured as sympathetically as she could while she rubbed the writhing princess’s back. “Try to breathe.”

  “Make it stop!” Princess Neirdre moaned instead, swatting at Brijit’s hands. “You stupid, Coimirceoirí, I thought you were supposed to help.”

  Brijit pushed away the annoyance that sprang up in her heart. “I can’t make it stop,” she told Princess Neirdre patiently, “but it will be easier if you breathe and calm yourself.”

  Princess Neirdre pushed Brijit’s away again. “I can’t calm myself. It hurts, it hurts. Make it stop!” she sobbed.

  Brijit sighed. She had helped her grandmother birth many children over the years and had even delivered many on her own, but she had never seen a new mother fight so hard against bringing a baby into the world. Except Ana, a little voice in her mind reminded. Brijit shook her head. The girl in the small village had seemed to have good reason for not birthing her son. She had wanted to protect him. Neirdre seemed to just want the entire birthing process to be over.

  “It will go easier for you if you relax,” Brijit said reasonably, knowing that this was just the start of Princess Neirdre’s labor. Princess Neirdre had many more hours to get through as her body prepared to deliver the next heir to the Elders. “Soon you will be holding your little baby in your arms. But for now you need to focus.”

  “You’re stupid. I thought you would help. Mother, make it stop,” she screamed at Erulassë. The older Elder woman looked shocked at her daughter’s outburst and edged away from the bed toward the door with an expression of disgust on her face.

  Clearly the older woman was not comfortable with the birthing process. Brijit wondered under what circumstances she had given birth to her own child. Neirdre had suggested that the Elder woman had been given a sleeping potion and missed the whole thing. Brijit didn’t approve of such a practice. She believed, as her grandmother had taught her, that to not be present to the birthing process was akin to giving up your power as a woman. The birthing had a way of changing a woman, of helping her to recognize her own power. But Princess Neirdre didn’t seem interested in that at all. She wanted to dissociate herself from the entire situation.

  “Please, try to calm yourself,” Brijit said again, fearing that Neirdre was tiring herself out before she needed to.

  The door to the chamber suddenly opened and Nestariel entered. Erulassë took the opportunity to slip out behind her sister and disappear down the hallway. Neirdre was so livid when she saw her aunt that she didn’t noticed her own mot
her abandoning her. Or perhaps she was used to it.

  “Make her leave!” she screamed, as Nestariel approached her bed. “Get that witch out of here.”

  Brijit flinched for a moment before she realized that Neirdre was referring to her aunt. While Nestariel and Weylon knew of her status as Kurunii, Brijit had kept that knowledge from Neirdre and others at the fortress. She didn’t think it would do any good for Neirdre to know about it before the birth of her child.

  Nestariel was unperturbed by her niece’s outburst. She merely smiled. “I might be a witch, but I seem to be the only one who can help you since you will not listen to Brijit.”

  Brijit stared at Nestariel. Was that why the older woman had not been overly surprised nor had she seemed concerned that Brijit was Kurunii. Was Nestariel a sister Kurunii? She remembered how Neirdre had referred to her aunt as a sorceress the first day Brijit had met her.

  Nestariel ignored Princess Neirdre’s curses and came forward, adjusting the pillows that were supporting the girl. “If you prop her more upright,” Nestariel explained to Brijit as she adjusted the bedding around Neirdre much to the girl’s ire, “you’ll find you can lessen her pains.” She moved her without heeding the howls of outrage that were emanated from her niece.

  Once the older woman had finished, Neirdre calmed. She looked at her aunt in surprise. “How did you do that?”

  Nestariel shook her head and ignored her question. “You need to stop spitting like a cat and conserve your energy, child,” she said not unkindly. Then she set about removing the kettle from the fire and adding hot water to a brew she brought. “Drink this, it will help.”

  Princess Neirdre took the cup hesitantly from Nestariel. She took a sniff of the brew and made a face. “I’m not drinking that,” she said in disgust holding the cup away from her.

  “It will ease your pains,” Nestariel told her.

  A strong contraction took hold of Neirdre then, and she moaned loudly and then swallowed the tea down with several noisy gulps.

  Through the long hours of the night, Princess Neirdre’s pain was controlled in large part by Nestariel. At times Brijit wondered why she was even there, but when she tried to leave the room both Neirdre and Nestariel protested.

  As the early hours of the morning inched toward dawn, Neirdre’s pain became more regular until she started to moan, “I need to push.”

  Nestariel looked at Brijit. “Get ready, the time has come.”

  An hour later, the baby began to emerge. Neirdre collapsed, spent and exhausted, as Brijit caught the child in her arms.

  “Let me see her,” Neirdre murmured after a moment. “The next great leader of our people. Minathrial, my daughter.”

  But Brijit did not hand the child to the mother. Instead she looked at Nestariel not knowing what to say.

  “What is wrong, child?” Nestariel demanded as she came around to where Brijit cradled the wailing babe.

  Brijit met her eyes. “It is a boy!”

  #

  Princess Neirdre refused to hold her son. When Nestariel tried to convince her that cuddling the child would ensure bonding, she started screaming hysterically.

  “I don’t want to bond! He was supposed to be a girl. He was supposed to be the next great leader. I don’t want a boy! I want the girl I was promised.”

  As her screams escalated, Nestariel pushed Brijit toward the door. Brijit backed out of the room with the swaddled babe in her arms. He screwed up his tiny face and began howling almost as loud as his mother. Brijit lifted the babe to her chest.

  “Shhh, there, there. It will be okay,” she whispered to the small bundle as she gently patted his back. The baby suddenly stopped crying. Brijit looked down at him and saw he was watching her, his eyes a surprisingly clear green for one so young.

  She told the Elder girl who had followed her out of the room to bring her a large basin of warm water and some towels. When she returned, Brijit unswaddled the babe and set to washing the mucus and blood from his tiny form, marveling at how perfect his pale skin was. As she cradled him in the water, Brijit couldn’t help smiling as his eyes slowly drifted shut. He was going to fall asleep in the warm water. A true angel.

  She let him rest for a few moments and then turned him to wash his back. Brijit’s breath left her. On the left shoulder of the tiny boy, was a mark that was all too familiar. A triquetra. Fear for this tiny creature suddenly filled her. Would they kill a royal child, based on the mark? Brijit did not think so. But after what had happened to the little girl in Merryville and Ana’s halfling newborn, Brijit couldn’t help feeling fearful for the small boy in her arms.

  She studied the baby for a few moments longer. While he might be doomed to not be the next great leader of the Elders, this child was exceptionally beautiful. Even as an infant his bone structure and coloring were that of Elder royalty.

  Her heart twisted as she realized that his mother had rejected him without giving him a second glance. Tears pricked at her eyes. No child deserved to be shoved aside by his mother. What kind of parent would do such a thing? What would Princess Neirdre do if she knew about the triquetra?

  Straightening, Brijit tried to think of a plan to protect this baby. She wondered what Weylon would do. Quietly she asked the servant girl to find her fellow Coimirceoirí.

  Weylon and her had not spoken since they left her grandmother’s house. She knew that he preferred it that way, but Brijit didn’t know who else to turn to right now. Weylon was the only one who knew about the mark and the dead children. And they were both sworn guardians of the royals. He might not want to deal with her, but she knew he took his duties as a Coimirceoirí seriously.

  Together they could surely come up with a plan to protect him.

  Weylon froze in the doorway when he saw the baby, now swaddled and cradled in Brijit’s arms as she sat in the chair in the corner of her room. She looked up at him.

  He cocked his head, his face filled with confusion. “Why is the royal heir here with you?” His tone was cold.

  Brijit looked down at the sweet babe sleeping and sighed. “It’s a boy.”

  Weylon froze halfway across the room.

  “The princess refuses to even see him.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “And there’s more…” She paused and unwrapped the blanket swaddling the child.

  Weylon’s face paled when he saw the mark on the baby’s shoulder. Brijit knew he must be thinking about Ana’s son.

  “Who has seen it?” he asked gruffly.

  Brijit shook her head. “Only me. For now,”

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  “Weylon, what are we going to do?”

  #

  An hour later, Brijit found herself outside the Crown Prince’s chambers. Weylon and her had come to the conclusion that Princess Neirdre was not the only parent the little babe had. Surely his father would not reject him.

  As for the triquetra, they had agreed to keep that to themselves for now. Weylon didn’t think the Crown Prince would let any harm come to his son, but they decided to wait and see what his reaction to the child was before they showed him the mark on his son’s shoulder.

  Brijit, herself, didn’t know what that mark could mean on the children. Why was the ancient mark of the sisterhood suddenly appearing on newborn children? She feared that black magik had been used to produce it, but she had no proof of that nor did she have any idea why that would be the case. Even if the Kurunii had some role to play in the mark appearing, Brijit didn’t know what that was or what purpose it served. And until she learned more, she didn’t think it would be wise to share her worries with anyone else.

  Suiadan was in his private rooms awaiting news of his wife and child. When Brijit was led into his room by the two Elder sentinels who stood guard outside his chambers, the Crown Prince stopped his pacing and turned to her, concern clear on his features.

  “I’ve brought your son to meet you,” Brijit said, her eyes on his face waiting to see his reaction,
hoping it would not mirror that of Neirdre.

  But Suiadan took the news of a son far better than his young wife had.

  His lips parted in surprise. “A son?”

  Brijit nodded and held the child out to him. Suiadan sat in the armchair in the corner of the room and held his hands up to receive the child. His surprise faded to pleasure as she placed the boy in his arms.

  “His name will be Meldiron,” he said firmly. “My son.” He gazed down in wonder at the now quiet babe who was looking right back at him. From Suiadan’s reaction, Brijit could see it was love at first sight. She smiled, relief coursing through her.

  “Sir,” Brijit hesitated, not knowing how to tell him of his wife’s reaction to the baby’s gender.

  He looked up at her, his green eyes calm. “My wife is displeased?”

  “She won’t even look at him, never mind hold him.” Brijit paused and bit her lip, wondering how to bring up the awkward subject of feeding Prince Meldiron. The baby turned his head and began rooting at the Crown Prince’s tunic. When it yielded nothing, he screwed up his little face and let out an angry yowl.

  “Your son will need to eat,” Brijit pointed out the obvious.

  Suiadan laughed and nodded. He seemed unsurprised. Then he called one of his men to him and spoke to him quietly. A few minutes later a woman with a babe of about two months strapped to her chest appeared.

  “Aranel, Princess Neirdre and I have been blessed with a son.”

  She bowed in a deep curtsy. “Congratulations, my liege.”

  “We are in need of a wet nurse.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Would you be willing to serve in such a capacity?”

  “It would be my honor,” she murmured, unfastening her own son from her chest and handing him to Brijit before taking the now wailing Meldiron from the Crown Prince. She sat in the armchair in the corner and expertly latched him onto her breast without hesitation or embarrassment. The child suckled hungrily.