The humming sensation raced up her arms and tingled through her, allowing her to get a grip on the emotions rocketing through her. She took a steadying breath.
“So, Talia, are you willing to do what must be done?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course I am.”
“It will not be easy and will cost you much.”
The trembling started again, but she worked hard to tamp down the rising panic. “I don’t know if I can pull it off.” She pulled her hands free and clasped her arms to her. “But I have to try. For … for Catriona and her baby. And … for Archer. He’d have done the same for me. He’s already done the same for the queen.”
Increased respect filled Baleweg’s eyes as he nodded and smiled at her. “You are your mother’s daughter, Talia. As well as your father’s. They would be very proud of you.”
She dashed away unshed tears. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. What do I do?”
Baleweg took her by the hand and walked into the forest of tropical plants that crowded his rooftop garden. In the midst of the palm fronds there was a small stone pool, the water in it completely still. Next to the pool was a small blue mat. “Sit there.”
Talia looked at him, but did as she was told.
“You have not made too many connections with humans.”
“Only two, and they were right near me.”
“Not only will they not be close, you must connect with them through time.”
“Oh, my God, I didn’t think about that. How will I—?”
“The strength of what they are feeling and what you feel for them will be enough. But you must cleanse your mind of all else. You must feel none of your own fears or concerns, so that you will be able to feel theirs.” He nodded toward the pond. “I want you to stare at the water, at the smooth surface of it, and imagine your mind as smooth, as clear, as calm. Do not think of them, or the situation. It will only cause you to react and then your focus will shift back to your own concerns.”
Talia nodded.
He laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention up to him. “I must warn you. This can be extremely draining, especially for a novitiate.”
Talia thought back to how stunned she’d felt after her brief connection to Archer. But it had been energizing rather than draining. Catriona had been different. Equally powerful, but there had been pain. She’d yanked herself out of it before she’d connected too deeply, but she remembered the hammering she’d taken even with that brief connection. And now, with Catriona and the baby most certainly facing imminent death—Her body balked, her mind tried to pull away. She’d spent too many years protecting herself from this. But she had no choice but to risk it this time.
It was that or let them die.
“I’ll be okay,” she told Baleweg. She wouldn’t be, she knew that. Just as she knew it didn’t matter. Not any longer. This was what she’d been born to do. She understood that now and for the first time embraced the gift she’d been given as just that. A gift. Hopefully, this time, it would be the gift of life.
Baleweg nodded. “Look to the pond.”
“Wait. If—When I make the connection, then what? If I can’t fix them, I can’t … what is it I can do?”
He pressed the blue orb into her hand. “If you can locate them in that manner, I can connect through you and determine where in time they are. You must not let go of the orb or your connection. It will not be easy.”
Her heart pounded as the magnitude of what she was going to try drummed through her. She couldn’t let herself think about it. She couldn’t allow herself to think about success or failure. She simply had to focus on the connection itself, nothing else. Just as Baleweg had taught her. She nodded and turned her thoughts to the pond.
Calm … smooth. Tranquility. Emptiness. Open, opening. Talia felt her breathing slow first, then her heart rate. She kept her focus on the pond, then finally let her eyes drift shut and turned her focus inward. It was as if she’d transcended to some other place. Complete calm, tranquility. Open, opening. I am open.
She struggled to maintain the calm. Breathe in, breathe out. As time stretched out to what felt like infinity, she continued to focus. Empty, open, I am open. Nothing was happening. She fought back the edge of panic, of frustration. She could not allow anything to interfere. She redoubled her efforts, sank even deeper into her own mind. She envisioned a flat plane that stretched onward beyond the horizon. She pictured herself flying over this plane, moving toward something, something intangible, something—
The shriek of sudden pain all but pierced her to the very soul. She jerked and almost lost it, but forced herself to reach out again.
When it came the second time, she thought she’d be prepared. But she wasn’t. It felt as if it were her own voice, shrieking in agony. Dear God, oh, dear God. She felt her body tumbling now, the plane having turned into a steep incline. Down she went, down. Deeper. The pain howled through her, echoing so strongly she thought she might go mad with it. Her body jerked against it, instinctively trying to protect itself. It took everything she had to force herself to let go, to relax, to feel it, endure it. But oh, dear God, the pain. Her stomach felt as if it were being ripped from her. Over and over again it was as if something were trying to wrench itself free from the depths of her very being. She wrapped her arms protectively over her stomach, the blue orb digging into her palm. She was losing it, losing her hold. She couldn’t endure this ripping, this pushing, this—
And then she realized, and with realization came hope, and some semblance of control. It was the baby! He was still alive. He was coming! Through the haze of pain she focused once again, holding herself tightly in her own arms as the agony washed through her again. Ripping, squeezing, pushing.
She took on the pain, even though that meant being unable to control it. Catriona was dying. If she could take this pain away, take on the labor of childbirth for her, perhaps she’d spare her enough energy to survive it. Stay with it, Catriona, I’m with you. I’m with you.
Again and again the pain tore through her. It was so immense that she writhed with it, unable to brace against it. She knew childbirth could be agony, but this … this was more than that. Catriona’s illness had ravaged her so thoroughly that the rigors of giving birth were literally tearing her apart. And Talia couldn’t separate the pain of one from the pain of another. Her body jerked and twisted as each wave ripped through her. How much longer could she hold on? She felt her grasp slip repeatedly but forced whatever focus she had left to the single-minded effort of maintaining the contact so her sister might live through this.
The baby forced its way lower. Lower still until she felt she was being torn in two. The baby! Yes, yes, almost there! She bore down and felt a scream tear from somewhere deep inside her. Or inside Catriona. She no longer knew where she ended and Catriona began.
Air. No air, no air! Breathe! Can’t breathe. Suddenly Talia felt an encroaching cold crawl toward her. It was terrifyingly black, deeper than any hole, sucking her in. So cold. Breathe. Talia fought to hold on, but the black threatened to consume her. A howling pain shrieked through her. Icy fingers clawed at her belly. Dying.
“NO!” Talia jerked out of it and found herself lying in a pool of sweat, trembling hard, unable to catch her breath. Her body lay twisted on the blue mat. It took her a moment to focus on the water, then Baleweg’s face came into view.
“The baby is almost there,” she gasped. “Catriona is dying.” She gulped at the air. She was so cold, so cold. Sleep. It pulled at her, begging her to give in to it and leave the pain behind. “I tried to save him, save her. Take the pain. I don’t know.”
“Talia,” Baleweg said gently. “Talia.” He took her shoulders and very gently moved her into a sitting position.
Shaking. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control anything. God, she was so cold. “Talia.”
She managed to turn her head, to focus on him. Her hands were numb, her lips numb. She nodded. “You did it. You con
nected.”
No, she hadn’t done it. She hadn’t maintained the connection long enough to ensure that Catriona and the baby had made it. She tried to tell him, but she couldn’t manage it. Her teeth were chattering now.
Baleweg’s expression changed, smoothed. “We need to connect again.”
Her body instinctively recoiled. She shook her head, wildly, back and forth. To willingly go into that nightmare once more … no, no, she couldn’t do it again. But she already knew she had to try, to make sure she got Catriona through. She might not be a healer, but if she could just relieve the pain long enough … Panic began to crawl through her, the sense of failure she’d fought for so many years clawing at her again.
Baleweg took her face into his hands and gently forced her to look at him. “You must do this if we’re to save them. The pain Catriona is in is too intense for me to sort it all through. You can’t connect with her. It must be someone else. This time I want you to open up to your own heart, search there, then reach out.”
Talia couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “I—I don’t … un … understand. She … n n-n-needs m-me—” Her teeth were rattling they chattered so hard.
“If you connect with Catriona again … you might not make it. The toll on you is just as immense and yet made more so by the stress of the mental connection. We need the time more than she needs you to take on her pain. You’ve given her a great deal, and perhaps it’s been enough. But if you try and lose, then we will never find them.”
“Don’t care,” she managed. “I must—”
“She needs more than this to survive.” He gently stroked her cheeks. “Love, Talia. Reach out for that. It is stronger than pain, stronger even than death. You have that connection within you, but you must be willing to surrender to it, and then risk giving it away.”
Talia didn’t understand. She cared for Catriona and Archer, and the baby. She already knew that. What did he mean, surrender her heart? She was willing to give her life. Wasn’t that a greater risk?
“Talia.”
“Y-yes. I don’t—” She shook her head, frustrated by her inability to speak coherently. She tried hard to find some center of calm, even a tiny piece, that would let her gain some control back. But she was exhausted.
He wrapped his hand around hers. “You must believe. This time the journey is into your own heart. What you find there will allow you to reach out and connect. Trust yourself.”
He stood behind her as she worked at breathing in and out normally. As her heart gradually slowed, the trembling and shaking finally stopped. Her fingers hurt and her legs were still numb, but her teeth stopped chattering. Her entire torso felt as if it had been run over by a truck. “Okay,” she said as calmly as she could. “I’m ready.”
Once again she focused on the pond, on the water. Always she had been afraid of the fear and pain she felt when she connected with a dying animal. Her experience just now had only confirmed what she’d always known. To put herself through that even once more would almost certainly destroy her. Baleweg was right; she had to shift her focus if she was going to finish helping them.
What she hadn’t counted on was how much more terrifying it was to reach out and connect with someone’s heart. Because in order to connect with it, she had to be willing to put her own heart on the line.
Trust your heart.
She understood now what Baleweg had been telling her, just as she realized that this was the greater risk. There was no physical pain strong enough to equal the devastation of reaching out for a heart with one’s own, only to encounter nothingness. Death would be kinder.
Calm, peaceful. Smooth surfaces, deep, tranquil depths.
She stared at the water and imagined herself skimming smoothly over the smooth, glassy surface. But something was pulling at her, sucking her down. No! Not this again. No. But there was no pain in this cold embrace. It was worse. Isolation. Such complete isolation. No feelings. Nothing. Shut off. Nothing gets in. She slid deeper down, and deeper still. Protection. Safe. Her heart began to pound. Deeper, past the protection. No safety here. She began to shake. Dark, so dark, almost black. Untouched. Unexplored depths. Her teeth chattered. So cold, so lost, so alone. She couldn’t go further, it would suck her in and she’d never find her way back. The pressure grew, in her chest, constricting her, making it hard to breathe. Deeper, must go deeper. No safety. Risk. Keep going. But the pressure only grew worse. Tears leaked from her eyes and her chest burned. God, it burned so badly. She wanted to gasp for air, rush to the surface, away from that black nothingness.
Nothingness.
And then she felt the fear. She began to pull back, away from the bottomless darkness, back to the safety of isolation. No. Fight it! Trust. Trust her heart. She plunged further, certain she was going to be crushed by the pressure. So alone. So dark.
The pressure increased until she screamed with the agony of it. She pushed, crying freely now. Want. She wanted so badly. Like she’d never wanted before. Terror. She’d never been so terrified. Trusting that want, fighting for that want. She’d gone so far now that she had no hope of a safe return. If she wanted, she couldn’t be safe. Her heart pounded. Heart. Her heart.
It wasn’t about just wanting. It was about giving. That was the risk.
And then she knew what she must do if she wanted to connect with Devin. She had to give her heart away.
Pushing downward, feeling claws of ice piercing her, reaching for her heart. She fought through them, forcing images of her heart, whole and strong, beating, beating. Red. Burning, burning. Huge. Pulsing, full of life. Impervious to cold, to ice, repelling the claws. Reaching out, so warm, so full, so strong. Offering … wide open.
I am opening my heart to you. To you, Devin Archer. Only to you.
And it hit her like a wall of flame, the heat of it searing her. Blasting the ice out of her soul, releasing the pressure on her lungs so she could breathe. Heat infused her, all of her, and the rush of pleasure that followed was so complete the blackness in front of her exploded into a shower of tiny, brilliant shards, dissolving into a glittering cloud.
She loved. She’d trusted her heart to the nothingness. And survived. It didn’t matter whether the gift was returned or accepted, only that she’d trusted her heart enough to give it away. And it was the strength of that trust that had made the connection.
“Talia.” A gentle hand to her shoulder. But she didn’t want to come back. Never had she been in such a wonderful place. She never wanted to leave. So tired, she just wanted to stay here, floating.
“Talia.” The gentle hand again. “You must wake.”
She shook her head, stubbornly refusing. Too hard. Too tired. She’d never been this tired. And then it was too late. The pleasure was receding, leaving only fatigue so bone deep that she wept with the need to find refuge from it.
“You must open your eyes and listen to me.”
She shook her head, but opened her eyes all the same. “Where—” The word came out with a hoarse rasp. Her throat was raw and her voice was gone. She looked around her, remembering, slowly, that she’d been on Baleweg’s rooftop.
She was no longer by the pond, or outdoors. “Where—” Again she was forced to stop.
Baleweg swam into view, then a glass was pressed to her lips. “Sip. Take a sip. It will help.”
She did. The liquid, cool and sweet, felt so good, but it was not enough. She felt … hollowed out.
Baleweg mopped her brow with a damp cloth. “You’ve been through an ordeal, Talia, one that would have killed anyone with less heart than you.” He stroked her cheek. “Your mother would be proud of you. You’ve used your gift for its intended purpose. But it will take some time for you to recover from it.”
Then she remembered, all of it, what she’d been trying to do. The intense pleasure she felt when she finally surrendered her heart, trusting in her own love enough to give it away. Then her eyes shot wide in alarm as the rest came rushing back. “The baby—!”
Balew
eg pushed her back to the bed. She was in a bed.
“You made the connection, Talia. I know where they are. I must travel quickly.”
“Are they …?” She couldn’t put it into words.
“I will do my best.”
She tried again to sit. “I’m going.” Her throat was so raw that it was excruciating to speak. Her head immediately reeled, forcing her back to the pillow even before Baleweg could do it for her.
“You can’t. You are far too weak.”
Tears of frustration leaked from her eyes.
“No tears.” He leaned in and took her hands in his. “You were everything you could have been. Everything you’ve always known you could be. Now it is time for you to heal. You must go easy on yourself.”
“Can I … stay here?”
Baleweg smiled. “You are here.” He motioned to the room and only then did she realize she was home, in her own bed. In Connecticut.
“No!”
He calmed her. “I cannot leave you alone in my time. There is no one to care for you and you are too unfamiliar with everything to care for yourself. Here you have help.”
“But Emrys—”
“Will have to deal with me. You will be as safe here as anywhere. You are far too weak to travel with me.”
She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. Damn, but she hated this. Archer. How could she just sit back and not fight for him?
As if he understood her thoughts, Baleweg took her hand in his. “You’ve fought for them as valiantly as any soldier gone to war. You’ve done your part.” His expression tightened, his eyes steely. “Now I must do mine. When it is done, I will make certain that you know.”
“But Emrys … how will you—?”
“I can only promise that I will do whatever I must to finish this.” He looked beyond her. “One way or the other.”
The Royal Hunter Page 28