by Cathi Shaw
Brijit shook her head, unable to believe the extent of Aibhilín’s cruelty. And yet today the last Elder queen was spoken of as hero.
“The Kurunii and the Draíodóir could have joined together then to fight the Elders and history may have had a far different outcome, but they did not. Instead the Draíodóir decided to work with the Elders. They aligned themselves with Séreméla and, by doing so, they were able to obtain special magikal licenses that allowed them to still practice limited amounts of the dark arts. It wasn’t long before their helpful use of magik to make lives better for those living in Five Corners was overtaken by the demands and needs of the Elders. For you see, while Elders could use magik, to a limited degree, they were not as powerful as the Draíodóir.”
“What happened to the Kurunii?” Brijit asked.
“They went underground. Disguised themselves as wise women of the villages. The Elders may have suspected who they were, but the people of Five Corners worked together to keep the women safe.” He paused and took a deep breath. “There was, of course, the occasional witch burning when a Kurunii was discovered, but for the most part that is how they continued.”
“And Aibhilín? What happened to her?”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel smiled slightly. “Queen Aibhilín was able to redeem herself before the end. She came face to face with The Rift quite by accident. She had decided she wanted to enjoy what had once been the Elders’ royal summer home on the Western Sea…”
“Tèarmann,” Brijit murmured.
Eöl Ar-Feiniel nodded. “When she arrived here, she found the dead desert and The Rift at the doorstep of what had once been her royal family home. The Draíodóir who had accompanied her pointed out again that The Rift was the result of the ongoing excess of magikal use. Aibhilín was horrified. She returned to Séreméla and tried to convince her people to change their ways. But, of course, they resisted, unwilling to give up the lifestyles they had become accustomed to. Aibhilín tried to lead by example. She stopped all magikal use in her life, and she aged gracefully as an Elder queen should do. But still the people could not or would not follow her example. There were some, of course, who did cut back on their magikal use, but most Elders had become addicted to it. So Aibhilín, not knowing what else to do, returned to The Rift and bonded with it.”
Brijit gasped.
“Yes, she gave up her live for her people and for Five Corners. It is said that she claimed she was not the Chosen One who would save her people but that she had bought them time. And with her last words she implored her people to change their ways.”
Brijit shook her head, moved by such sacrifice. “Did they change their ways?”
Eöl Ar-Feiniel looked sad. “For a time, my people cut back on their use of magik. But today it is growing once again. And the magikal protection that was all that remained of Queen Aibhilín is now eroding. I fear it is only a matter of time before the darkness that makes up The Rift breaks free and all of Five Corners is lost.”
Chapter Eighteen
Word of the child’s birth and his gender spread quickly. No one in the fortress expressed disappointment out loud, but Weylon could feel it in the air. Many of the Elders, especially those at the fortress, had counted on a female heir being born. It was, after all, the reason they had left their home in Séreméla and fled to this godforsaken place. Now they were faced with the reality of yet another Crown Prince instead of a future queen. The mood at the fortress had darkened perceptibly. It was like a veil had fallen over the place.
Princess Neirdre, however, was the only one who dared to reject Prince Meldiron openly. Weylon’s stomach churned as he tried to imagine a mother reacting in such a way to her child, especially right after birth. It was inconceivable.
But the fact that Suiadan seemed delighted with his son kept the people at Tèarmann from rebelling. Without exception it seemed that the Elders adored their ruling Crown Prince. Weylon had not heard anyone speak ill of him.
They were less enthralled with Princess Neirdre, it seemed. From the kitchen to the training field, Weylon heard murmurs of disgust whenever her name came up. Only when the Crown Prince was present was the princess referred to in polite terms. If Suiadan was aware of how his people felt toward his bride, he didn’t let it show.
Weylon hadn’t seen Brijit since the night of Meldiron’s birth. While he had helped her that night, it hadn’t been because she had asked him. He had only helped because it was his duty to the royal family. As far as he was concerned, Brijit could rot.
He still could not believe that she had used her dark magik on him. He didn’t know if it was remnants of that dark magik or the poison from the creature that had attacked him that was affecting his mood, but more and more he found himself battling dark thoughts.
His mind kept turning back to what had happened at that funeral pyre in Evendel. Weylon couldn’t explain what had come over him. But he hadn’t been able to forget how he felt while feasting on the carcass of the dead cat. How power had surged through him, making him feel more alive than he had ever before.
And while that memory scared him, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that it also fascinated him. A deep craving was growing within him for more of what he had feasted on. He pushed such urges away, disgust filling him whenever he became aware of them, but they continued to emerge at the most unexpected times.
There was a restlessness growing within him. He couldn’t explain it. More and more he found himself on the ramparts looking to the West. The Rift called to him, but he didn’t know what it called for or how he would answer it. Dark whispers filled his mind. Come. Join us, they taunted. Weylon knew that to leave the fortress and go out on the sands toward the darkness would be nothing short of suicide. But it called to him nonetheless, filling his dreams with dark, powerful images and whispering in the back of his mind at the most unexpected moments. Come. There is nothing for you here. Come. Come play with us. Come join us.
One morning when he was standing atop the fortress with the hot wind blowing in his face, he saw something that startled him. In the far distance, barely perceptible to his eye, there was movement. Something was coming from The Rift.
As he continued to watch, his eyes straining, he suddenly realized what he was seeing. Riders were coming from The Rift! Armed riders!
Without thinking, Weylon sounded the alarm. But he continued to watch as more and more of the black horses emerged from the darkness. They were still a great distance away when Weylon realized that there were men atop those horses.
Men lived in The Rift? The thought was unbelievable and…exciting. He had assumed that nothing could survive in that swirling darkness. Could it be that he had been wrong? His heart began to pound, and a dark smile touched his lips. The word brothers filtered through his thoughts. Join us, the whispers said again. But before he could process them, Suiadan was striding toward him with his personal guard. Weylon felt a pang of regret for raising the alarm.
As Suiadan approached, Weylon cleared his face of all expression. The Crown Prince swore under his breath when he saw the dark riders in the distance. He barked orders to his men in the Elder language before he turned back to Weylon.
“What are your plans?” Weylon asked him.
Suiadan remained silent. He watched the approaching riders for a moment before turning and starting down the stairs toward the stable. Weylon followed the Crown Prince.
They were in the stable before Suiadan answered Weylon’s question. “We will go and meet them in battle,” he said darkly, as if he had been expecting this development for some time.
Weylon nodded and made to saddle his own horse to join the Elders. An eagerness to meet those riders was filling him. Finally, he would be able to quench the desire that had filled him almost daily since leaving Evendel.
But the Crown Prince stopped him with a firm grip on his shoulder.
Weylon froze, not understanding. Then Suiadan spoke. “You will not be coming with us, Weylon Forborrow.”
He looke
d at the Crown Prince in surprise and opened his mouth to protest.
“Putting you in this situation would be dangerous for you and for all of us. You are doing well, but you are not cured. Never forget that. You are not ready to meet with those that live in The Rift. You may never be ready for that challenge.”
Weylon hid the hurt he felt at Suiadan’s words. The Crown Prince had known that men lived in The Rift. He had known and kept it from him. Weylon felt a burst of anger, but he pushed it aside. This was his Crown Prince. Despite everything, he was Coimirceoirí first. His owed his allegiance to the royal family, regardless of that dark yearning inside him.
The Crown Prince looked at him steadily until Weylon broke eye contact, fearful that the he would be able to see a trace of what had happened at Brijit’s grandmother’s house in his eyes. He knew Suiadan was right. Weylon didn’t trust himself to go out on the sands with the Elders. Now that the Crown Prince’s serious face was in front of him instead of those dark riders on the sand, his sanity returned. He could not ride out with the Elders or he would be lost forever. He knew it was true. Despair filled him, and he cursed Brijit once again for resigning him to this fate. But Suiadan’s next words caught his attention.
“And I have a more important job for you, besides.”
He looked at the Crown Prince, hope replacing the despair he was feeling a moment before.
“You must take my wife and son to safety.”
Weylon stared at Suiadan in surprise. He found it hard to comprehend. The Crown Prince was assigning him the task of keeping his family safe. Weylon knew how much that said about Suiadan’s trust in him. The Crown Prince smiled at him.
“You are my Coimirceoirí, Weylon. I know you have pledged to keep my family safe. We have stationed a man in the Wastelands.”
Weylon looked at Suiadan sharply. Finn had been sent to the Wastelands. Suddenly he understood. The Elders had obviously feared that something like this might happen. Finn had been sent ahead to prepare for such a situation.
Suiadan continued with his instructions, “You will take the women and the child and join him there. We will send word when it is safe to return. Do you understand?”
Weylon nodded, his blood beginning to pump with adrenaline. Those riders he had seen were heading for the fortress at a fast pace. They would be there in less than hour at that pace.
“Don’t delay. Go now,” the Crown Prince commanded as he hoisted himself onto his mount. “Remember, Weylon Forborrow, the future of the Elders rests with you.” And with that he roared to his men and charged out the gates to do battle.
#
Weylon pounded on Princess Neirdre’s door until Brijit opened it.
“We are under attack. The Crown Prince has ordered your evacuation.” He looked into the room and saw the princess, Nestariel, and Erulassë.
“Where is the child?” he asked Brijit quietly.
“He is with Aranel.” Brijit lowered her voice and looked back at Princess Neirdre, “She still refuses to see him.”
“Can you get Aranel and the child prepared to flee? As soon as possible.”
Fear filled Brijit’s eyes but she nodded. “How soon?”
“Within fifteen minutes.”
Horror flashed across her face, but she quickly hid it. He turned to go, but her voice stopped him. “Weylon, who is attacking us?”
He looked back at her.
“Don’t ask questions now. Just get them to the stables as soon as possible. The Crown Prince is counting on me to keep his family safe.”
Brijit nodded again but stepped from the room after him, carefully closing the door so the others would not hear them.
“How serious is this?”
Weylon frowned, not wanting to discuss this with her but realizing that there was no point hiding it. The sooner he explained, the more cooperative she would be. “The Crown Prince and his men have ridden out to defend the fortress against riders from The Rift.”
Brijit gasped and turned pale. “From The Rift?”
Weylon nodded.
He felt her hand on his forearm suddenly and resisted the urge to pull away. “Are you okay?” she asked. Hatred boiled up inside him as he realized that she must have suspected that The Rift had been calling to him.
But Weylon had not known that anything lived there. If he had known about those riders earlier, he didn’t like to think what he might have done. The days he’d spent on the ramparts looking into The Rift as the darkness called to him. Thinking about it made his knees weak, and it took all his willpower not to find his mount and ride out to meet them. But then he saw Brijit’s anxious face looking up at him, and he shook the dark thoughts from his mind.
Now he did move his arm from beneath her hand. He ignored the softness that was in her touch, reminding himself that she was the reason he was tempted to turn his back on his duties. She was the one who had done this to him. She had cursed him with this life filled with temptation.
“I will meet you all in the stable in less than half an hour,” he told her tersely, needing to put distance between them.
“Okay,” she said softly, and as he started to stride away he heard her call to him, “Weylon.”
He looked back at her. She met his gaze firmly.
“I love you. You know that right?”
He felt as if he’d been hit in the solar plexus. The emotion in those three words threatened to knock down the wall he had built between them. A forgotten part of him longed to take her in his arms and reassure her that all would be okay. That he cared for her as much as she cared for him.
But then the knowledge of what she had done to him came back and he shook his head at her. He realized that what he had once felt for Brijit was now dead. She had killed it when she had saved him in the dead forest.
“Get them ready – we are running out of time,” he spat over his shoulder before he turned and strode down the hallway, the pounding of his boots almost drowning out her hurt gasp.
#
Brijit was surprised when they managed to have all gathered in the courtyard in less than twenty minutes. What she’d seen on Weylon’s face when she’d told him she loved him had torn at her heart. But it was the pain that had propelled her forward, ensuring that she got the others to the stable in time.
Nestariel seemed to sense that something was happening. She had followed Brijit out the door only moments after Weylon left and questioned her.
“Riders from The Rift,” was all Brijit had to say before the older woman got the others in motion.
Brijit had focused on collecting Meldiron and Aranel. The nurse had packed up her son and the prince faster than Brijit thought possible.
She didn’t know what Nestariel had said to Princess Neirdre and her mother to get them to leave so quickly, but they were there and ready to go.
Weylon had secured a wagon to transport them. When Princess Neirdre saw Prince Meldiron in Brijit’s arms she hissed in disgust and looked like she would argue. But Weylon spoke.
“The Crown Prince insisted that his son accompany us,” he said loudly enough for her to hear.
She rolled her eyes and slouched down in the wagon, anger radiating from her. But she knew better than to disagree. Brijit knew that the royal couple had engaged in many heated arguments about Meldiron. She could not avoid hearing their raised voices when she came to Princess Neirdre’s chambers in recent weeks. The Crown Prince had instantly fallen in love with his son and was displeased by Neirdre’s continued rejection of him. When Neirdre had accused him of choosing his son over her a few weeks ago, Suiadan had answered smoothly. “My son is my life now. You need to accept that.”
Brijit looked down at the sweet baby in her arms. His huge green eyes had become even more brilliant in the past few weeks and a wisp of blond hair now covered his head. His little hand closed around her finger as he gazed up at her. As the wagon started to roll, his eyes slowly closed. He was sweet by nature, and Brijit could not understand Neirdre’s aversion to hi
m. If she would just try to hold her son for a few minutes, Brijit was sure the baby would break down her continued resistance to being a mother. But Neirdre was unmovable.
Weylon mounted his horse and rode beside them.
“Brijit,” he said urgently as he came up to her side of the wagon.
She looked up from Meldiron’s peaceful face. Weylon was serious. “If they get close, duck down in the wagon. Stay safe.”
Her heart twisted as she thought about what he was saying. She feared that if the dark riders came close, Weylon would be lost to her. She didn’t think he would be able to withstand the draw from The Rift. From what she had seen of the place, it was pure evil. And Weylon had been infected by the darkness. She wondered if he suspected this as well, but there was no time to ask, so she just nodded in reply to his words. He needed her to at least show the pretense of believing they were safe. Then he gave the command to the driver to leave.
The women and babies in the wagon were accompanied by Weylon and three Elder knights, one driving the wagon and two flanking it. Weylon and the riders formed a protective barrier around the wagon and escorted it out of the courtyard. The Wastelands were now to become their refuge.
Chapter Eighteen
They had been traveling across the desert for several days when suddenly Brijit heard shouting and the sound of horses’ hooves pounding into the ground.
Weylon rode by her side of the cart. “Stay down,” he barked before riding out with the two Elders on horseback.
Brijit made sure everyone in the cart was down and then she peeked over the edge of the cart to see what was happening.
“I said, stay down,” Weylon roared in the distance and Brijit lowered her head.
Neirdre was crying. “What is happening?”
