By Blood Betrayed
Amberlyn Holland
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Copyright © 2017 by Amberlyn Holland
Cover design by Lou Harper
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Amberlyn Holland
[email protected]
www.amberlynholland.com
First Edition, 2017
DEDICATION
For Laurie, Cathy and Barbie. Sisters and Friends.
THE LOST SHRINES
----------------------
Book One: By Vengeance Guided
Book Two: By Destiny Bound
Book Three: By Blood Betrayed
d'Hara Manor, Hara Dale
PHELAN walked down the stairs slowly, eyes slitted against the light spilling into the main hall. Every step and movement chosen with deliberate care not to jar him more than necessary.
He wasn't actually hungover, but last night's illusion of overindulgence would seem strange if he didn't appear at least a little delicate before breakfast. For the entirety of the party following his brother's wedding yesterday, Phelan had made sure his hand never lacked a chalice or mug. He'd accepted every glass of punch and tankard of ale he'd been offered, but barely drank more than sip or two from each.
Phelan had long since learned the sleight of hand and deception necessary to look as if he'd drunk enough to drown a horse while keeping his senses about him.
The skill was probably unnecessary in the home of Caerwyn's new wife. But it was an ingrained habit from a misspent life of pretending to be something, and someone, he wasn't. The guise had gained him advantage, leverage, or information more often than not. And he never knew what tidbit or edge he might pick up by being underestimated.
"Sir."
Phelan turned his head slowly, careful to maintain the illusion of morning-after tenderness.
One of the lovely maids he'd flirted with off and on all evening looked shyly up at him from beneath her lashes, a pretty blush staining her cheeks.
"The Lady and, um, Lord Caerwyn are in the study. They'd like you and your brother to join them there."
Her eyes flickered to something behind him, pink deepening on her face and her voice hesitant with uncertainty.
Phelan glanced over his shoulder to find Ranulf standing at the top of the stairs. He realized she wasn't flushing because of last night's flirting. At least not solely. She was embarrassed because she wasn't quite sure which of them she was talking to.
Despite their two-year age difference, only those that knew them well could distinguish them from each other. Their sheer size set them apart from other men. Usually several inches taller than anyone else in a room, with breadth of shoulders and muscles to match, they often intimidated others simply by standing still. They'd both left their pale blond hair loose, except for the traditional braids of their Thousand Tribe heritage. The way Ran moved briskly down the stairs, the lack of squinting his blue eyes or flinching at unexpected noises were the only differences between them this morning.
Good thing Maddyn wasn't around. As eldest, it always put his nose out of joint when no one seemed to appreciate the gravitas and authority his few extra years should have granted him. And the poor girl would have been even more bewildered.
Taking pity on her, Phelan bowed slightly and gave her a wide, appreciative grin.
"Lead the way."
They followed her to a closed door at the darker end of the hall. Inside, Maddyn, Caerwyn and Liadan were already gathered around a massive table. Phelan's eyes narrowed further at the bright light shining through the wide-open windows. He groaned dramatically and headed for the carafe of water on the desk.
The pain and need weren't completely feigned. The sun pouring in was startlingly pointed after entering from the darker hall. And he'd stayed up later than his brothers, gathering gossip and news out of habit. The lack of sleep left his eyes feeling gritty and his throat parched.
He ignored the rest of the selection of food and drink spread across the desk and sought out the most comfortable looking seat in the room. On his way to the plush chaise in the corner, Phelan glanced over Maddyn's shoulder to see what his older brother frowned so fiercely at. A familiar looking map took up most of the huge table dominating the room. Ink marked random spots across the continent and Milesan Isles, while a handful of rods rested haphazardly over its surface.
Ranulf bypassed the breakfast offerings altogether and went to stand next to Maddyn, his downed-turned mouth matching their older brother's serious expression.
He broke the silence to quietly ask, "What's going on?"
Maddyn shrugged and looked expectantly at Caerwyn.
Caer sighed, scrubbing his hand over his eyes and Phelan felt a little sorry for him. Yesterday, they had celebrated Caerwyn's marriage to Lia. He should be feeling happy and carefree. He should be still in bed with his new wife. Still celebrating their new life together.
Of course, while the wedding had been the public recognition of their relationship, they'd been connected for much longer.
The two of them stumbled into a rare moon-bond months ago and had been magically tied ever since. After some danger and misunderstandings, they'd allowed the unusual enchantment to bond them permanently shortly after the summer solstice. Yesterday had only been a formality, bending to the more accepted conventions.
But the drawn and somber expression Caer shared with Lia told Phelan their happy-ever-after would have to wait.
"We know Hafgan is trying to get control of the magic contained in the ancient shrines marked on the map. We think he may be getting desperate. He's going to try for another. At least one. Soon. And if he can't get it through subterfuge I'm pretty sure he'll send his tame Warlord to take it by force."
"Why? Why now?" Maddyn asked the question before Phelan could. "He's been doing this through politics and deception for decades. Ever since his attempts to invade the territory of the Thousand Tribes failed."
Phelan watched Maddyn run his fingers over the map. Across the northern territory that the Thousand Tribes called home. That Phelan, Maddyn, and Ranulf once called home, as well. Before Hafgan pushed Tresk into starting the war which left their clan slaughtered. As the youngest, Phelan didn't remember Caerwyn's mother, Lady Alwyn, rescuing them. Would never understand the sacrifice Maddyn made when he'd allowed her to save all of their lives.
Because survival meant accepting Milesan magic. It meant a transformation that made the three of them avatars of Death. It meant being outcast from the Tribes and accepting the Alwyns as their foster family.
Phelan never knew any other life, but he knew that choice still haunted his oldest brother.
Caerwyn nodded to Lia, and she stepped closer, giving Maddyn a sympathetic look before pointing out one of the marks on the map.
"I sent Keneally to...visit some acquaintances in Marnak, near here."
Keneally was a popular topic of gossip among the manor's inhabitants, and Phelan had collected quite a few rumors about him. The man's age was widely speculated on, but the only thing everyone agreed on was that he'd managed the manor's land for as long as anyone remembered. He also was always at the center of protecting and defending the tiny valley kingdom. Many suggested he had gifts rivaling Lia's magic, though no one had ever seen him do anything with even a hint of power.
"I think this is the first shrine he corrupted. Now the area surrounding it is a wasteland. The land is barren, and the villages are abandoned. He's either drained or poisoned the magic so much it's no longer renewing itself. Soon it won't be of any use to him, and he'll need another source to equal the power he's used to."
Sprawled on a chaise, Phelan choked out a jarring, humorless laugh.
"Of course. Going back to simple blood sorcery would be such a letdown. Torture and murder are so time-consuming for a man trying to conquer the world."
The words were flippant but edged with disgust and harsher than he'd intended. Maddyn glared, but Phelan only rolled his eyes in return then sipped at his water. All of them had suffered the loss of Lord and Lady Alwyn because of Hafgan. All of them had sworn to do everything in their power to unleash vengeance on the dark sorcerer for his hand in their murders.
But Phelan had been in Marnak. Had seen the ruin and havoc Hafgan left in his wake first hand. He wanted the sorcerer to pay for what he'd done to their parents. But Phelan was also determined to stop him from destroying more lives.
"How are we supposed to figure out which one he'll target next?" Madd asked. "We can't protect all of them."
Lia's mouth pinched into a line, guilt and resignation darkening her eyes.
"What I'm about to tell you is something never shared with outsiders."
She met each of their eyes in turn, making it clear she expected the secret to be kept.
"The Circle in Marnak that Hafgan depleted was a gathering place for priestesses and Handmaidens from all over the continent. According to what was passed down through generations, it was where the most powerful leylines met. Our Circle is the only other one that comes close to it."
Marnak wouldn't risk coming after the Circle in Hara Dale again. Despite the end of the betrothal agreement, Daen had made it clear Galwei was still aligned with the little valley kingdom. Lia wedding Caerwyn added Alwyn and the Milesan Isles to the valley's protectors.
Not that Phelan was sure they needed it. He'd seen Lia in action. The power of the entire valley responded to her. Caer hadn't really talked about the ancient secrets he'd uncovered here, but Phelan was certain it was more than duty alone that kept Lia tied here.
"What's the next most powerful?" Ranulf asked, staring intently at the map
"The only other source that strong is the web of power created by the four treasures of Milesans," Lia explained, throwing a half-apologetic look in her husband's direction. Outsiders weren't really supposed to know about the Isles' magic. But then, she'd shared Hara Dales secrets with them, so it only seemed fair.
Unlike the continent, the Isles held few leylines. Even if more traversed their islands, however, it would be of little use to them. The magic of the Attributes could only interact with the power of the leylines superficially. The treasures of the Isles tapped into the earth energies differently and dispersed in an invisible web that allowed Milasans to access their Attributes' gifts more directly.
"There is only one way for him to obtain the power he's used to. He has to create a similar web out of sites whose leylines intersect."
Lia moved the slender rods around the table, putting them down carefully as she talked. When done, she'd formed a triangle on the map. The tips each pointed to a shrine marked clearly in stark ink.
One in the disputed area between Marnak and Tribe territory, where few risked settling. One in the capital of Galwei. And one in the waters of the Milesan Isle.
"Why those three? How can you be sure?" Ranulf stared hard at the map. Raw emotion made the question sharp and demanding.
"Because I have maps of my own that show the known leylines of the continent. These are the only ones that line up properly," Lia said softly, recognizing the pain in Ran's voice for what it was and not taking offense at his tone.
"That's Tirnan," Ran said, touching the map. "The Sword is there."
Phelan inhaled sharply, though habit kept the sound almost silent. He wasn't sure exactly what happened with the former Lord Tirnan, but Ranulf had never been quite the same after he'd visited there with Lord Alwyn one summer.
Besides that, the Tirnans and the Alwyns had been rivals for generations. The current Lord Tirnan held nothing but contempt for Caerwyn and felt even more strongly about the Hounds. Getting his cooperation would be difficult, to say the least.
"There is also an ancient cave," Lia added. "It was dedicated to the Goddess a millennium before the Milesans arrived on the Isles. If Hafgan gets control of either, it would be bad. Both would be catastrophic."
"I'll go to Tirnan," Ran announced, shoulders tight and jaw firm.
"Are you sure?" Caerwyn asked quietly.
"I'm sure."
Of them all, Ran was usually the most easygoing and adaptable. But when he set his mind on something, there was no moving him.
"I guess I'll take the border, then," Phelan sighed. Marnak was never a pleasant kingdom to visit, and the people his undercover trips there introduced him to were not the kind he'd normally seek out. But he was best suited for the job.
"I've got contacts in Marnak," he added with a hint of self-mocking. "What am I looking for, Lia?"
"There was a sacred well, once, but it has been centuries since that information was last recorded. The fort where we found Tanis was built over a destroyed Circle."
In other words, it might be recognizable as a shrine the way the d'Hara Circle was. He'd probably have to quietly investigate rather than trusting to luck that he'd just trip over it.
"Right. So, I'll need a cover to do a little recon before I go in."
Maddyn stared at him with narrowed eyes, but Phelan rolled his shoulders and ignored the big brother concern radiating from him.
Finally, he turned his attention back to the map and Phelan let himself relax.
"I guess that leaves Galwei for me," Maddyn said with resignation before turning to Caerwyn. "Are we sure Daen isn't holding any grudges?"
"Honestly, I think he was relieved," Lia answered for him, looking both embarrassed and amused. "He agreed to a protection treaty with Hara Dale before he left. He's furious that Hafgan manipulated and cursed him. He doesn't blame us. Trust me, he'll help you take down Hafgan any way he can."
Phelan tuned out the continued planning, knowing he was going to have to go it alone. Going into Marnak meant shedding anything tying him to the Isles or risk being discovered by Tresk's agents. He allowed his restlessness to take over, fidgeting and expressing impatience at every suggestion.
He needed more information. The kind he couldn't ask Lia or Caerwyn. This was one of those times where Phelan had to make decisions for the good of the Isles and Alwyn. The kind of decisions the others wouldn't understand or agree to.
"I'm going to leave the logistics up to the four of you," he announced, heading for the door before anyone tried to talk him out of it. "If I set out tonight, I can meet up with one of my contacts without having to wait a week or two for him to come near again."
Along the way to his room, Phelan stopped one of the men he recognized from the party and asked him to pass on a message to Keneally for him.
*******
Used to traveling light, Phelan grabbed his gear from his room and headed for the stables. He wasn't surprised when Keneally showed up before he got to his horse's stall.
"Ya' wanted to see me?"
"I have a few questions about ancient shrines."
"Lady Lia is the one you'll want to be talking to then."
"I have. But there are some circumstances you might be more… understanding of."
The old man gave him a stark look, the kind that made him feel like a little boy playing at bigger things.
"Anything I understand is for the good of the valley."
"Right," Phelan exhaled. Dancing around the question wasn't going to get him what we needed.
"You've been to Marnak, and I assume you know what I'm going the
re to protect. But we both know Tresk and Hafgan aren't easily dissuaded. If I can't protect it, I need a way to make it useless."
The lines around Keneally's mouth tightened imperceptibly. "How do you propose to do that?"
"I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking for your help. That fort where we found Tanis, it was built on a Circle that had been destroyed. It still had power, but it was weak compared to... others," he hedged around the topic.
Technically, he wasn't supposed to go anywhere near the Circle. But boundaries had never been any match for his curiosity.
"Can I do something to minimize the damage Hafgan can cause if he gets his hands on it?”
Keneally hummed thoughtfully. He didn't seem shocked or even surprised by the request. The considering look he gave Phelan made it clear he wasn't pondering possible answers to the question. He was deciding whether or not to share that knowledge with Phelan.
He turned and walked away, startling Phelan with the abrupt movement. But he didn't go far. He stopped and leaned against the open gate of the next stall.
"The power of the wellspring is different than what you may have seen," Keneally said. "It flows along the streams and underground currents that come together where the water emerges from the ground. Unlike others shrines, the water and the magic of the leylines are intertwined. Disrupt the streams and you disrupt everything. The power remains but is a hundred rivulets rather than a torrential river."
Phelan nodded, understanding exactly what he may need to do. But that left only one question. "How?"
Instead of answering, Keneally reached into the empty stall and pulled out a small leather satchel.
"A few years ago, we needed to remove an old stump from a field. Nel and Lia gave me two powders and told me to mix 'em on the stump when it was about to rain. And to be far away before the clouds broke. When it was done, the stump was gone, and we had to fill in a four-foot hole."
By Blood Betrayed (The Lost Shrines Book 3) Page 1