by Jan Delima
She rarely used his nickname, and for a moment it caught him off guard. “You speak of his last words on Avon’s bridge. If you’ll remember I never agreed. And I stopped following his orders a long time ago.”
“Pendaran views you as a son.”
He sneered, “You think I don’t know that?” He despised what Pendaran had become, but Taliesin still remembered a different man, before darkness seduced his honor and sorcery became his obsession. Pendaran’s attempts to heal a forsaken race had only cursed it more.
“He will listen to you,” she pressed.
“I can’t get involved.” Especially now. Taliesin ran his hands over his face and voiced the reality of his uselessness. “It came as an order from my mother. And I do listen to hers.”
“You listen when it suits you,” Merin returned, but remained quiet in thought for several moments. “The time has come, hasn’t it?” When he would refute her claim, she held up her hand. “No, I’ll not listen to your vague denials. I knew this would happen when I let Pendaran live, but you gave me no other choice with your stupid stunt. Now that he’s witnessed her gift, he’ll pursue Elen for her power. He will want to control it through her.”
A sudden vision pierced his senses; not of Elen, but of Merin. Flashes of her sitting at Rhuddin Hall’s great room rolled out in his mind’s eye. She was with Sophie and Dylan, and others. Joshua, her grandson, caused her to laugh. He’d seen Merin laugh before—a fake performance, he now realized. Like cake being offered to a diabetic man, the scene was as tempting as it was self-destructive. He could be a part of that family, share in their laughter—if he were willing to poison their lives.
“What will you do?” A rhetorical question he’d grown accustom to asking, since he’d just Seen where her plans led.
“I must go to Elen. Once everyone arrives safely, I will travel alone to Rhuddin Village. The others will stay here to open the house while I’m gone.”
“Please tell Sophie I’m fine and among the living, but share nothing else. Not even where you’re staying.”
“You’ve never given me a message to deliver before.” Merin frowned, making her displeasure known. “You care for my son’s human wife.”
“She reminds me of you,” Taliesin said, “only she’s nicer to me.”
“Give her time.” The slight turn of her lips contradicted her words. “She hasn’t known you for as long as I have.” Then she did something that shocked him speechless; she reached out her hand and placed it on his arm. Merin’s mate had been killed before the birth of her final son, and a part of her had died with him. Offered touch was a rarity. “You know I jest.”
He managed to say, “Do I?”
“Don’t leave us, Taliesin. We need you to live.”
Spoken for survival. Because his death would end them all. What he would give to have one woman want him for love. Too much, he thought bitterly, which was the reason he would forever remain alone.
Eight
Elen’s current lesson involved a gathering circle, but the only thing she’d gathered so far was her tutor’s frustration. As instructed, she’d drawn the circle by dragging a shovel in the soft earth of her recently tilled cucumber patch. It seemed rather basic to provide the concentration Ms. Hafwen claimed it would. No salt filled the shallow channel, as Mae, her former teacher in these things, dictated there should be. Just crude markings and an aggravated pixie.
“If I could have gray hair, you would give it to me.” Ms. Hafwen hovered with her hands pressed to her temples. “This is a simple joining and shouldn’t be as difficult as you’re making it.”
“But Mae taught me—”
“Stop!” A disparaging sound resonated like the wail of a tortured bird. “I don’t want to hear any more about that woman’s teachings.”
“Mae would have a fit if she ever heard you say that.” Her childhood teacher wasn’t a woman who took insults well. Mae, who currently resided in Avon as their healer, was a master of potions, and those who offended her usually received an interesting comeuppance in return.
“Maelorwen hasn’t earned the right to know me, and I doubt she ever will.” Ms. Hafwen settled on a nearby sunflower, with her wings fanning at a pace to soothe and not fly. “I need you to follow my teachings now. This lesson is a gathering circle, not a protection circle. It is for you to concentrate on, nothing more.”
Like training wheels on a bicycle, Elen supposed, feeling like a child learning balance on unfamiliar ground.
“I told you when we first met that you’d been given a powerful gift.” Ms. Hafwen paused to shoo a hovering bee seeking pollen. “And that you needed to do more with it than run rivers of moss and force transformations.”
“I remember.” Excitement and trepidation fluttered within her stomach, sensing this lesson was going to be different from her former ones.
“That time is now. Energy is elemental,” the pixie explained. “Your gift is linked to the element of Earth, which is why you have clung to your garden and the forest around you. But you can do much more, Elen. You can command the other elements if you but ask. They are all connected to nature.”
“How do I ask?” More important: “How do I control them if they answer?”
“With respect.” A simple answer filled with warning. “Until you master this skill, it’s best to practice on a confined space. Call the air that services your plants,” she repeated from her earlier instructions. “Use your senses. Feel it, like you do your garden. Then invite it to join the ground you have designated within your circle.”
“I’m trying.” Elen had been standing in the center of the earth-scribed ring for more than an hour now.
“I know you are, but it’s imperative that you succeed when you try.”
“I’m aware of that.” And she was, all too well. The soil under her feet was the easiest to connect with, warm from the afternoon sun and rich with nutrients from composted plants; it was a renewal of life that vibrated up the soles of her bare feet.
“Good,” Ms. Hafwen chimed. “That’s good. Doubt is your greatest enemy. You must believe you can do this. If you want the elements to respond, you need only to invite them with conviction.”
Elen inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly, banishing all dangerous uncertainties from her mind. She could do this. No, she would do this. Opening her senses, she savored the taste of autumn on the back of her tongue. A sudden breeze ruffled her hair and brushed across her skin. It coaxed a sigh of pleasure. “It feels . . . I don’t know . . . sensual.”
“That would be the element of Air.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, offering insight with understanding. Ms. Hafwen was Fae and didn’t fault natural occurrences of life, including pleasure. If it was misused with ill purpose, or non-consent, then she would. But that was not the case in this situation. “It is the carrier of nature’s procreation. Never forget the purpose of each element, because it will respond in kind. Air breeds, Earth feeds, Water cleanses and Fire resolves.”
Yes. Elen identified the differences. Air was lighter, quicker, and more spirited than Earth. Water was too far away, but she sensed its cool presence in the lakes and streams that veined off their great mountain and into the forest. Fire wasn’t ready to meet her just yet, but the others . . . Oh yes, the others were more than ready to play.
Especially Air.
It teased by circling her with tender caresses, and she teased back by whispering acknowledgments in return. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned all the life Air helped to sow. Was it not Earth’s messenger? And, as Ms. Hafwen had pointed out, the carrier of procreation? She pictured it flowing as wind, caressing flowers, wheat and trees as it traveled and spreading seeds and pollen on fertile grounds.
Sensing its building momentum, she held out her arms, palms up. And to her delight, a small disturbance formed in the center of her right hand; it was a vortex, albeit a tiny one
no larger than her tutor, and it tickled as it danced across her skin. “I did it.” She laughed, losing her concentration, and the disturbance dissipated into a gentle breeze. “Oh no . . . It’s gone.”
“Is it?” Ms. Hafwen asked in an unusually quiet tone. “Are you sure?”
Elen paused, feeling its lingering force, but it was a different energy than what plants provided. It seemed contented to wait, and to rest for future storms. “I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Touch the circle.” The pixie flew a good distance away before issuing that command, and then further still to settle within the protective branches of the hawthorn tree. “Don’t break it,” she warned with a piercing cry that carried to where Elen stood. “Just tap it, and then step back.”
Curious, she walked to the edge of the circle and touched her toe on the inner rim.
And a maelstrom erupted, encasing her in the eye of a vortex the width of the circle and the height of her barn, if not taller. Air and Earth enclosed her in their furious joining, forming a moving wall of turned soil and wind.
“Holy shit!” Joshua’s voice filtered through the contained tempest she’d created. “That is so cool!”
Panicked, Elen swept her foot over the ground to break the circle, and the vortex dissipated, but not as gently as the first one she’d conjured. Dust and gravel whipped about her garden and traveled through her orchard, causing a weaving tumult of trees and projectile apples. The shutters on her cottage banged and groaned but held firm until the worst of it calmed.
“What are you doing here?” Elen asked her nephew, blinking grit from her eyes.
Joshua held up a covered plate. “I brought Ms. Hafwen a present.” Tall like his father, the teenager had to duck under her garden arbor to avoid hitting his head. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, while the sword Dylan had given him hung from a belted scabbard and rested against his thigh.
“The closing needs work.” Ms. Hafwen flew to Joshua’s shoulder, a prime perch to glare at Elen from. “Unless it’s a hurricane you’re wanting to produce, you need to unravel the joining before setting it free. But you did well, Elen. I am pleased. You accomplished what I wanted you to. From this point on, Air will respond to your call. Remember that in times of need. Now,” she chirruped when she turned to Joshua, “my dear boy, what have you brought me?”
Joshua, Sophie, and now Cormack, were the only ones who knew of Ms. Hafwen’s true identity. But Elen suspected Joshua was her favorite.
Less gangly now that he’d stopped growing, he had his mother’s brown hair but resembled Dylan in every other way. He’d aged in the short time Elen had known him, but there was still a youthful mischief about him, a blessing in light of what he’d survived. Having been in the battle that took place in these woods, he’d watched Guardians kill his grandmother and kidnap his mother.
And he’d seen Elen mutilate one right before his eyes. Did it matter that she’d ripped out the Guardian’s power to save Joshua’s life? Yes, she knew that it did, but once violence was seen, it could never be unseen, at least for those who still bore a conscience. And that knowledge had a way of aging the innocent.
His black gaze now bore the weight of that experience. But he still lived, and learned, and offered sheepish grins as he held up the plate with a pixie attached. “Apple crisp, anyone?” The little cheat knew Ms. Hafwen had a weakness for baked sugar and fruit. “Enid left it on the counter, and I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
“Of course you did not.” Ms. Hafwen was all aflutter, trying to peel the foil away from his blatant bribe.
“How did you get here?” Elen asked.
He gave a flippant shrug. “I walked.”
She shook her head, knowing full well he’d understood the implication of her question. “I meant how did you get around the guards?” Even now, Cormack was in the woods that surrounded her cottage, meeting with Gabriel and Sarah.
“I have my skills.” Joshua made a sliding motion with his free hand, demonstrating how smooth he thought his skills were.
It might have earned the welcome he sought, if worry hadn’t tightened her chest. “Do your parents know you’re here?” She knew they didn’t but asked the question anyway.
“I overheard them talking,” he hedged. “Porter’s busy securing the outer gates. Sarah, Gabe and Cormack are outside your orchard and the rest of the guards are regrouping at the bend of Yellow Moss stream. Mom went with Enid to warn everyone in town—”
“So no one saw you leave,” Elen finished. Sophie, no doubt, had told him to stay put. “Your mother will worry if she comes back and you’re not there.”
Their territory was massive; it included a village in the valley of a mountain region, along with several lakes, notable rivers and countless streams all joined within a wildlife refuge that protected the territory from modern development. The enormity of their land posed an almost insurmountable challenge for defenses, especially when hunted by creatures who thrived in such a concealed, and vast, environment.
“She’ll be pissed,” he said with a determined tone, so like his father it was eerie. Stubborn as wolves, the two of them were, and just as courageous. “But I’m old enough now to be drafted for human wars, and it’s not right for you to face yours alone.”
Elen wasn’t sure what might burst her heart more: love or fear?
“I’m not alone,” she pointed out while turning toward the horizon. The afternoon sun had yet to sink below the canopy of trees, but they only had an hour, if that, before it fully set. “And you know this isn’t a human battle we’re dealing with.”
“Are you saying human wars aren’t dangerous?” he challenged.
“You know I’m not.” Just as she knew when an argument was futile—and when to call for reinforcements. She unclipped her cell phone from her waist and hit Sophie’s number. Dylan didn’t trust the modern devices, even though Porter secured their connection, but Sophie always answered hers.
She picked up on the first ring. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Elen said, “but Joshua’s here.”
A curse that would make Cormack proud came across their connection. “I’m on my way.”
Nine
When Cormack returned to Elen’s cottage, he found it filled with her family. Dylan remained quiet at the kitchen window, looking out toward the fields, while Sophie paced in front of the stove. A solid woman with protective instincts as fierce as wolves, Dylan’s mate formed a menacing presence with a serpent whip wrapped around her waist and a glare to match.
“My son has decided to stay here with his aunt,” Sophie explained when Cormack entered the room.
This was not the quarrel he wanted to intrude upon, but he understood a man’s need for independence. “Joshua is of an age to make that decision. And from what I’ve heard from other guards, he’s proven more than capable.”
“You sound like my husband.” Sophie’s tone held a mixture of anxiety and acceptance that her child was now an adult who didn’t need her permission. “And you’re right. All of you.” She nodded as if it were a soothing gesture to calm her fear, proof that this human was no coward. “I don’t like the idea of her facing Pendaran alone either. Whatever comes—we’ll face it together.”
“As you can see,” Dylan said without humor or argument, “the plans have changed. Porter and Sarah have been informed and will alert the others. Porter’s staying at Rhuddin Hall, and Sarah is positioned on Emerald Trail. They’ll contact us if they see anything.”
“The forest around the cottage is clear,” Cormack reported. “But the sun is about to set.” He searched the gathering room beyond the kitchen. A fire flickered in the stone hearth, but otherwise it was empty. “Where’s Elen?”
“In her bedroom.” Silent until then, Joshua tilted his head toward the hallway that led to the upper rooms. He clearly wasn’t pleased by his parents�
�� protective company. Gods willing, he would live long enough to one day cherish it.
Cormack took the stairs two at a time and bumped his head on the eaves as he turned the corner, unaccustomed to navigating at this height. The upper chambers originally consisted of three bedrooms, but the center room had been replaced some time ago with a fully functioning bathroom. Like many cottages in this area, pine boards covered the ceiling and floors, a common resource from the northern woods.
“It’s me,” he announced as he entered the master chamber, annoyed that he felt the necessity. Decent sized, the room fit a large bed and several cabinets to organize Elen’s clothes. His territorial instincts rose with his beast. He’d slept with her in that bed more nights than he could remember, covered by quilted blankets while listening to the even sounds of her breathing. Obviously they’d been platonic nights, but he considered this room his as much as hers. The fact that his bags remained in the spare room felt wrong.
“In here,” she called from her closet as a pair of flat shoes and shiny pants flew onto the floor behind her.
He approached, and her scent greeted him as he walked through a haze of moist sweetness. “You showered?” For that putrid ass? “Why?”
“Because I was covered in dust from my lesson.”
Then he saw her. And within the breadth of seconds his annoyance transformed to lust. He halted by the end of the bed and could do nothing but stare, unable to move as resentment roiled in his gut.
Unaware, Elen bent to gather her strewn items as butter-colored material flowed around her graceful form. The garment reminded him of frilly frosting, sweet, layered and edible to the core.
“You’ve heard, I assume,” she said without looking in his direction—too comfortable with his company to sense danger. Six months of separation had not lessened their familiarity, even if it had only been the bond of friendship.
“They shouldn’t be here,” she continued. Her voice was thick with concern, as he knew it would be. “Joshua is as stubborn as his parents.” She cast him a quick glance over her shoulder—an exposed shoulder, he noticed, in that concoction of cloth designed to display her body in all its womanly perfection. When her eyes met his, her features fell, misinterpreting what she saw. “Pendaran’s here.”