Age of Valor: Blood Purge

by D. E. Morris

  There was no containing it any longer. Fire oozed out of her pores, covering her skin like an oil slick. She tried to scream but no sound came from her. Within a matter of seconds, Mairead's body was completely devoured, her beloved statues glowing with color on either side of her.

  In a flash of light and heat, the flames around her shifted and everything changed. Where she was suffocating, now she could breathe again. Though she could hear the roar of a slow burn around her, she felt a cool breeze reach through the fire surrounding her. She opened her eyes and found herself no longer enshrouded in flames, but cloaked in fyre.

  Lifting her hands slowly, Mairead was careful, knowing from all her years of watching Ashlynn that all of the power over fyre came from the hands. She shook terribly, frightened and uncertain as she held her palms open to the sky, There, in each hand, was a small controlled ball of fyre.

  “Does it terrify you?” asked the stranger, “or do you feel alive?”

  There was no time to answer. Just as quickly as she had lost consciousness, she was pulled back into the circle of stone and into the present with Rhiamon.

  Her lungs ached as she bolted upright, gulping down deep breaths of air as though she'd been underwater for too long. Her brow was slick with sweat, her hair stuck to her face and her clothing like a second skin. She made a poor effort of pushing Rhiamon away but the older woman was much stronger, and Mairead was far too disoriented to overpower her,

  “Easy,” Rhiamon soothed, “easy! You are all right. Just breathe.”

  “What did you do to me?” Mairead panted.

  There was eagerness in Rhiamon's face as she leaned in to look into Mairead's panicked eyes. “What did you see?”

  “What did you do to me?” Mairead repeated, a touch of hysteria in her voice.

  “I did nothing, my child, only what I said I would.” She ran her fingers over Mairead's cheeks, a wild glee in her smile. “I sent you from your consciousness for a moment as the salve took hold so as to ease your pain, that is all. I healed you. The trance was not from me but from someone or something much more powerful. What did you see?” Mairead tried to pull away but something Rhiamon read in her reaction made the older woman tighten her grip on her face, taking her in like a starving man at a feast. “You saw magic.”

  “Let go of me!” Finding her strength, Mairead shoved Rhiamon away from her, knocking her into what was left of the poultice she'd made. She scrambled to her feet, legs wobbly from whatever she'd just been through, and forced herself to run, stumbling down the side of the hill. All she had to do was get clear enough of the stones to be able to shift and she would be able to get out of here as she should have long before it had ever come to this.

  “Mairead!”

  The high, fear-filled voice of the girl she had come to think of as a little sister echoed around her, making her stop before she was even halfway to the valley floor below. “Esther?” She saw them now, the villagers that had hidden themselves in plain sight. They'd used subtle folds in the hills and crouched behind rocks and stones, covered themselves with pelts to look like carcass left to rot in the sun. Most of them were hunters but there were a few familiar faces from the village among them. They circled and cut off the route back to the village, penning her in with swords and arrows trained on her. One of the hunters had Esther in his brutish grip, a blade pressed against the delicate skin of her neck.

  Knowing she was bested with the girl held captive, Mairead turned around to watch Rhiamon coming down behind her, slow in her gait. “Why?” Mairead asked, broken and exhausted. “Let her go. She has no part in this.”

  “We need you, Mairead. We need you to stay here with us. Esther was our insurance.”

  The girl whimpered, pulling Mairead's attention her way for a moment. Though she had been sickened over what had passed between herself and Derog, she would get over it. This, using a young girl who had nothing but trust in a woman she looked up to like a mother, was deplorable.

  “You would be a queen among us,” Rhiamon continued, but Mairead refused to break eye contact with Esther. “With you here, we would not have to kill all the Gaels. You would reign over all of your kindred that chose to bow in submission before us. We would create a new world order.”

  Finally daring to look away from Esther, Mairead returned her attention to Rhiamon. She narrowed her eyes, pausing as if to consider the offer before asking, “What about the Elementals?”

  “They would all be exterminated, save one.”

  She looked down at her hands, recalling the fyre she'd held only moments ago. There was no time to process whether or not it had been real, or what any of it meant. All she knew was that she had a decision to make. If she chose incorrectly, it would set the course of events not only for herself, but for her kin as well.

  “The Gaels were meant to serve the Elemental of Malevolence,” Rhiamon pressed. “They were never meant to become what they are now.”

  “You are wrong,” Mairead insisted, her voice tight. “The Elementals were created to help spread the word about the Giver. They were charged with protecting and guarding the truth until His return. It was the Deceiver who twisted that perception.”

  Rhiamon's lips pursed into a thin line. The two women regarded each other for a long, silence filled moment before Rhiamon lifted her chin in challenge. “Make your choice. Stay and we spare the girl. Try to shift and not only does she die, but so will you. My archers are much swifter than any Gael at shifting and believe me when I say that each arrow has been carefully soaked in monkshood. You would never even fully complete the change before you breathed your last.”

  Fear crawled its way up Mairead's spine, but she refused to back down. “You know that I cannot stay. You know that I will not stay.”

  A small, quiet laugh passed Rhiamon's lips and she bent her head as though resigned, hands coming together before her. “I understand. You think that I am bluffing. You think because I have called you my favorite that I would not break your heart in order to break you in turn.” She looked on Mairead with gentility and kindness, like a woman on an orphan child she had taken in and cherished as her own flesh and blood. In an instant, her expression went cold and her eyes lifted beyond Mairead to the hunter behind her, her voice emotionless as she said, “Kill her.”

  Mairead whipped around, a scream of protest on her lips as she bolted the rest of the way down the hill, but it was already too late. The blade slid across Esther's throat to open a thin seam of red. Horror was frozen on the girl's face as the hunter shoved her forward into Mairead's arms. Blood streamed down the front of her, staining their white dresses in sticky warmth as Mairead wrapped her arms around Esther and sank to the ground with her. Tears spilled down Mairead's cheeks as she sobbed the girl's name, her hand pressed over the wound even as she watched the life dim from her eyes.

  “How could you?” she shrieked at Rhiamon. “You call these people your children! She was a child! She was an innocent!”

  “No one is innocent in war, my dear,” replied the older woman, flicking a bug off her arm.

  “She trusted me.”

  Rhiamon's expression and her voice hardened. “Then she trusted the wrong person. You can no more put your faith in someone you have just met than you can the birds of the air; their loyalties are fickle and tend to lean toward themselves over anyone else.”

  A bright flash of white light gathered on the hill behind Rhiamon, momentarily distracting and confusing all those who were watching. Only Mairead, familiar enough with the sight of a Volar shifting, had a small idea of what was happening. When the light faded and she saw that it was Ories who stood with his arm securely around Rhiamon's waist and his sword at her neck. “You should take your own advice,” he growled in her ear, jerking her roughly against him when she struggled in his grip.

  Her people shifted on their feet, prepared to advance or to fire upon the raven-winged man holding their leader prisoner, but Rhiamon lifted a hand to hold them at bay. “You are bold to hand
le me so brazenly,” she fumed.

  Before Ories could reply, a great bellow came from the skies above the village. Everyone turned at once to witness Badru's flaming figure rising up from the northern horizon, racing through the air, burning every cloud he passed through. All of the archers turned as one, their arms pulling back in preparation to fire even though he was nowhere near within their reach. He threw his head back, opening his giant maw to spew fire into the sky. At the rate he was going, he would be there in less than a minute. His tendency to burn villages down and ask questions later did not bode well for the villagers that Mairead believed were innocent, nor for herself or Ories.

  “If you want to save any of your people,” Ories told Rhiamon, “you will release Mairead.” She watched Rhiamon's face, but the older woman only smirked, as if she knew something no one else knew. Aggravated, Ories turned his one good eye to Mairead and pressed his blade more firmly to Rhiamon's neck. “Go. Now.”

  “No,” she argued, still cradling Esther's body on the ground. “The moment I shift, they will turn on you.”

  “If you stay, your people will be safe,” Rhiamon promised. A wild glint had come into her eyes as Badru drew closer, more of his fiery form in the sky than blue to be seen. “Not only do I speak of Lilia and Connor, but of your parents and your four sisters...Elas and Kenayde, Ashlynn...Niam.” Mairead's breath caught in her throat, giving Rhiamon the exact reaction she had been hoping for and bringing a wide smile to the woman's face. “Oh yes, my dear, I know exactly who you are. I have known all along. Stay with me. Help me. Let me help you. If we work together we can make the Earth Elemental and all the others fall into submission. Together with the Element of Malevolence, we will be the only ones the world will bow to!”

  Mairead looked down at the lifeless little girl she held and brushed hair from her face. “So it was Merrik in your quarters. How else could you have known?”

  The statement made Rhiamon stop struggling for a moment and anger flash in her eyes as though she were offended. “Mairead, if you take anything away from your time with me, know this: a woman does not need a man to get what she needs.” Badru trumpeted, lifting her eyes in time for her to see him bellow fire down upon her village. Assurance turned to panic in her expression, and she turned back to Mairead with desperation. “If you leave, you will only be starting a war that will end in your death.”

  “The war has already begun,” Ories roared. “Do not let her fool you into thinking otherwise.” He glanced up at Badru with meaning, a silent plea for her to shift and join the other dragon in the sky.

  Reluctant, Mairead gently lay Esther's body aside and stood. The hunters closest to her turned back toward her with their arrows still poised, uncertain, vacillating between her and the dragon they were certain would be coming for them next. With force, Ories made Rhiamon move forward, away from the ring of stones and closer toward her people, effectively switching places with Mairead. “Shift,” he told her.

  In a flurry of light and confusion, Mairead turned and ran, her transformation beginning as she sped away. At the same time, Ories turned back into his raven form, taking his time instead of using the speed his skill allowed. The gathering light blinded both Rhiamon and the hunters, distracting them for as long as he felt it was safe. Someone shot an arrow blindly in his direction and he finished his transformation. He screeched and took to the air, doing a loop to dive back down, pecking and scratching, expertly avoiding swords and arrows to try to buy Mairead more time.

  Rhiamon stayed away from the fray, watching Mairead complete her own transformation from woman to dragon, her red scales blazing scarlet in the sunlight. She gave a sharp trumpeting call and Ories darted away from the hunters, taking refuge under her wing as the two of them took to the air. Badru returned her cry, ascending with smoke from the burning village swirling beneath him. As Mairead soared over the mountains to join him, she glanced down at the people scrambling to put out the fire, everyone on the move except for one.

  Derog stood amid the chaos, staring at the two dragons with no discernible expression, watching as they flew away from his flaming village.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “MAMA!”

  Lochlainn raced through the halls of Altaine, his long legs pumping as his boots pounded over carpet and stone. He paid no attention to the courtiers he nearly ran into at every turn, the guards he barreled into, or the fact that the two large dogs that ran pace beside him were taking out almost as many people as he was in his race to find Ashlynn. He called for her repeatedly, checking all her usual haunts before finally stopping to catch his breath. The dogs circled around him, feeding off his nervous energy, their tails wagging in question. One of them barked and the sound of it echoed down the corridor. When another bark resounded in reply, Lochlainn gasped and took off in the direction of the sound. Any number of dogs resided inside the castle at a time, but he'd become familiar with the voices of his own and the one who had chosen to love his mother over him.

  Ashlynn and Kenayde were on the floor of a nearby solar playing with Allorah while Jaryn looked on and played with Dafty. Bursting into the room with his canine companions, Lochlainn startled everyone and made Dafty jump back with a bark of surprise. Allorah laughed at Dafty's bark and reached for his tail, then saw Lochlainn and cheered.

  “Mama!” he cried, exasperated. Stalking into the room as Allorah stretched her hand out toward him, he picked her up as though it was the most natural thing to do. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

  “Are you all right?” Ashlynn asked.

  “Something's happened to Mairead.”

  Glancing at the others, Ashlynn's brow wrinkled before returning her attention to her son. “What do you mean?”

  Lochlainn handed Allorah over to Kenayde so his hands could be free to frame his mother's face, his own expression grave. “Something is wrong with Mairead.”

  “How do you know?” Jaryn asked, resting his hands on his hips.

  The little boy shook his head, shaggy hair obscuring his vision for a moment before he swept it from his face. “I just know. I felt it in my heart.” He looked between his mother and his father with urgency. “We have to go to Cieria. We have to make sure she's safe.”

  A proud smile lit Jaryn's face and he ran a hand over his son's head. “It's good that you're looking out for other people, lad, but we're already taking care of it. It isn't safe for us to go down where Mairead is right now and it certainly isn't safe for you.”

  “I'll go in fyre,” Lochlainn defied with a stubborn set of his jaw. “You can't stop me from going in fyre.”

  “Don't you dare,” Ashlynn commanded. “For starters, you are five years old.” He opened his mouth to object but Ashlynn lifted a finger, daring him to interrupt. When he gave a defiant huff and fell silent, she continued. “You have just come into your abilities, Lochlainn. Until you understand the basics of summoning and controlling fyre, traveling through it without a seasoned Elemental beside you is not only reckless but dangerous, especially if you plan on going more than a few rooms away from where you presently are, especially if you plan on traveling to a country you've never even been to before.”

  “You could end up somewhere really very dangerous,” Kenayde added in a gentler tone. “Even when you are familiar with the surroundings in which you are appearing, there is no pinpointing exactly where you will appear. It is only by the grace of the Giver that you do not end up in a wall or a chair, but you may end up bursting into a room or an area that could be full of those that would be your enemies.”

  His aunt's words brought a resigned frown to his face and Lochlainn looked at his feet.

  “We're all worried about Mairead,” Jaryn told the boy. “Badru, too, but we have to trust the people we have looking after and for them.”

  Ashlynn nodded her support of her husband's statement and ran a hand over Lochlainn's arm. “Why don't you and I go for a ride? It's been too long since I've taken Snow Steps out and it's a beautiful day. I
think both of us would do well to get out of the castle for a while.”

  Lochlainn chewed on his bottom lip, hard pressed to resist the offer. “Can I take the new palfrey? The white one?”

  “Find Killian and see if she's available.”

  Though he wasn't as eager as he usually was at the prospect of a ride, he nodded and left the adults, his two dogs trailing dutifully behind him. Within the hour, not only were his requested palfrey and Ashlynn's own high stepping hackney saddled and ready to go, but Killian's own mount as well as those of two guards were tacked and set for an afternoon ride as well. Lochlainn's mood had fallen back to its usual reserved and observant demeanor, but as the party trotted down the King's Road, the private way that would take them through Altaine village without really passing through the village itself, he was quite serious, as though they were out on a hunt and not for pleasure. He looked about him, alert, taking in everything despite knowing he was perfectly safe with the two guards and Killian there.

  “Is there something I need to be aware of?” Killian asked, riding beside Ashlynn.

  With one guard leading the way and one bringing up the rear, Lochlainn was sandwiched in between. Ashlynn looked at the back of her son's head and gave a small frown. “I don't think so. He misses Mairead. In many ways, she's become something of an older sister to him, almost a second mother at times I'd even wager. I think it's finally getting to him, that's all.” She glanced at the man beside her. “How is Rowan? I thought I saw her bouncing about this morning.”

  “She awoke feeling quite renewed, finally. I am glad to report her illness has passed.”

  “No gladder than I. There was a brief moment where I wondered if she'd fallen ill again due to some wine that was missed.”