Chronicles of the Half-Emrys Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Lisa Rector

  But he was hungry.

  As Meuric looked around, morphing into the hunter, his senses heightened. His ears picked up leaves rustling together and birds singing. He inhaled the scent of pine trees and musty air from the rains. Meuric rubbed his fingers over the bark of a tree and fingered a few spice-scented leaves on a bush. Birds would make a meager snack, but what he wanted was rabbit. Rabbit might give Catrin nourishment and lift her spirits. Meuric moved into the brush several feet away and waited, crouching.

  How to catch one once he saw it? He could kill one easily with his dark power, but Catrin would know. Was his light developed enough for hunting?

  Meuric thought back to when he was a younger man. He had used light. In a hunt to take down a stag. His mother had encouraged him to practice using both before deciding which energy should dominate. Meuric recalled the sacredness of using his light in such a way. He had been conflicted at first, thinking the power of light should create, build up, and heal. In time he understood that using such a power to take life, to sustain a physical body, was right to do so—as long as he honored the master whose light sustained him. Deian. The Master of Light.

  But Meuric had not honored Deian. Once Meuric turned to the darkness and its power, it consumed him for centuries. The heaviness and the grounding, the surety he could wield such a power without guilt, without remorse, spurred him further. His sister had given him free rein to conquer the lands as he saw fit. They fought side-by-side. Until his eyes opened to exactly how wicked she had become, enough to kill her own father and torture their own mother, Meuric didn’t realize he was steps away from transitioning into a Dark Emrys himself.

  There had been signs—fleeting notions that pricked under his skin, telling him that what he was doing was wrong. Meuric brushed them off. By following the Dark Master he didn’t have to face the consequences of his deeds, but every town he conquered, every battle his dark dragon riders won sliced into him. Many of his men had become Dark Emrys. Even though Meuric gave no order to kill children, he watched horrified when one of his men stabbed a boy. The body slumped in the mud, and the man didn’t look back as he continued the fight. Meuric had dropped to his knees and cradled the boy, pressing his hands against the wound in a hopeless effort.

  Meuric couldn’t deny he was a half-emrys. He was light and darkness. Two powers inside—power from the Master of Light and power from the Dark Master. Whether he followed them or not, this was who Meuric was. It confused him. Meuric could never separate himself from his abilities. He could never be like a mortal either.

  As ridiculous as his intention was, Meuric used his gifts and denied the Creators behind them.

  He made a decision while he waited in the bushes for a rabbit to show itself. He’d make the shift. Meuric would spend his waking hours focusing on the light in his core and cause the shift from greater darkness to greater light. It could be done. He just had to find the right reasons and the will—for Catrin’s sake.

  One thought nagged Meuric. What if the shift was too extreme and he didn’t carry enough dark energy to return them home? If they could ever return home. Meuric still wasn’t sure how his powers had sent him through time. He was convinced this was a punishment from the Dark Master for freeing Rhianu. He hadn’t tried in a while. When his shoulder was healed, he’d try to cut through time again.

  What was hindering him from increasing his light? Mara and Arya’s deaths. Faced with Catrin’s fading light, he had to change no matter how the past hurt. Caring about Catrin—wasn’t that enough to build on and trigger a shift in his light?

  Meuric turned his sight inward to his heart-center. He had formed a light, so he could manage this. After several minutes of focusing, encouraging, and expanding the matter that lay dormant in his core, Meuric was engulfed by peace.

  A rustling in the trees caught his attention when two squirrels scurried across the branches. Perfect. Reflexively and without thinking, Meuric extended his arm. Two arrows of light shot from his outstretched hand. He had only to picture them, and they released.

  The aim was true! The squirrels fell dead. What luck.

  He had difficulty skinning and cleaning the squirrels with his injured arm, but he managed. Laying his prized dinner to the side, Meuric stared at the pile of kindling. He was going to use his light. No flint. No struggle with fleeting sparks. Determined, Meuric held his palm over the pile, and warmth rushed into his hand. He envisioned his light skimming across the molecules in the air and drove them into the tinder until they smoldered and lit. Meuric pressed his mouth into a tight-lipped smirk, much too pleased with his day’s efforts. Catrin would be annoyed he hadn’t used his light sooner. He didn’t believe his success either.

  His efforts to wake Catrin were useless. Calling out to her and nudging her on the shoulder failed. She wouldn’t budge. Worried, Meuric lifted her eyelid and examined her twitching pupil. He leaned his ear to her chest, listened to her slow heartbeat and steady breath, and determined she was in a deep sleep. Meuric sighed. Her body was mending. He could stop fretting. After wrapping the meat in a cloth, Meuric shoved the bundle in his pack. He was weary. The sun shone high as he lay down facing Catrin with his head beside hers on the pack. He inched forward until his chin touched her shoulder and he was breathing in her ear.

  “Sleep well,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DROWNING

  Something sniffed twice and snorted. Whatever was nosing around was close, a few paces away, near her feet. Catrin cracked her eyes, and a faint light welcomed her. How long had she slept? Breath tickled her ear, and she stiffened. What is that?

  When she turned her head, Meuric’s straight nose greeted her by whistling air in her face. His nose hairs waved with each exhale. She cast her gaze on the rest of his stubble-free face. He had shaved. He missed a few spots, but most of his face was smooth.

  The sniffing returned, and leaves rustled. Catrin sharpened her awareness, coming out of her groggy stupor. The sound was not human but rather animal. Catrin slightly lifted her head, getting a glimpse, but dropped it back immediately.

  A mountain cat was chewing on one of their packs.

  “Meuric… Meuric,” Catrin whispered.

  “Hmmm,” he grumbled.

  “Shh. There’s a cat—a wild cat’s tearing at your pack.”

  “What?” Meuric’s eyes shot open, and they locked on Catrin’s. Ginormous black pupils almost hid his mystically blue eyes. Not wasting any time, Meuric jumped up. He reacted remarkably fast for someone with an injured arm.

  “Not my breakfast, you beast!” Meuric dropped into a predatory stance and bared his teeth, snarling. The cat bristled and hissed. Meuric rose and yelled, waving an arm wildly. The animal, too stunned to pounce, backed away while crouching low. Meuric rushed at the cat, and the creature tucked tail and ran into the underbrush.

  Meuric retrieved the pack and rummaged through it.

  “What was that about?” Catrin held her laughter back, relieved her original panic had subsided. Did Meuric know how funny he was?

  “Staking my claim. Showing the beast who’s the alpha.”

  Catrin gave Meuric an incredulous look.

  “No grand notions, Catrin. That display was really about breakfast. See, just for you.” Meuric pulled the bundle out of the pack and unwrapped several pieces of meat.

  “What is it?”

  “Squirrel. The beast didn’t get to it.” He held the meat out to Catrin, and she took a piece.

  “When did you hunt? How did you…?” She stopped when she saw the fire ring.

  “You slept a long time,” Meuric said.

  Catrin bit into the meat, which was cold and stringy, but she didn’t care. Meuric chewed on a squirrel’s leg.

  “The sun’s going down. I slept all day. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I tried.” Meuric picked up another piece of meat. “You needed the rest.”

  They finished eating and packed. Meuric was using his injured arm�
�not moving it from his sling but using his hand to hold his pack and secure his bag.

  Catrin squatted beside Meuric and prodded his shoulder. When Meuric didn’t show any sign of discomfort, she grabbed his chin and turned his face to hers. “You’re almost healed. How in all the three realms did you manage this?”

  “What?” He touched the hand that rested on his shoulder and winked at her. “Well, isn’t that something?”

  “Meuric, what have you been doing while I’ve been asleep?”

  He flung his pack over his shoulder.

  Catrin stomped her foot. “You’re using your light! Is that how you caught the squirrels? Why didn’t you tell me?” She swatted his arm.

  “Ouch, Catrin, the word is almost healed. Almost.” Despite what he said, Meuric smiled at her.

  The scoundrel. “See, I knew you could use your light. What took you so long?”

  They moved down the cliff with Catrin in the lead, using narrow switchbacks. Loose gravel covered the trail, and with unsure footholds, the descent was best to attempt before the sun disappeared. No matter how improved his arm was, or how even his balance was, Meuric would have difficulty.

  “I didn’t want you to keep exhausting yourself.” Meuric huffed as he turned his body and squeezed around a bulging rock. “So I worked on building my light while you slept. Honestly, I didn’t think this would speed my healing so quickly. I’m a tad bewildered myself.”

  “Astonishing what a good nap can do. The light speeds healing during sleep.”

  Meuric slipped, and Catrin grabbed his elbow. “Easy there. By Deian’s light, if you fell to the bottom and broke every bone in your body, where would that leave us?”

  “That would leave me, and you’d travel on. No more charity.” With his next step, Meuric lost his footing and went down, using his hand to catch himself. “Ow, confound it; that hurts!” Meuric shook his hand.

  “Let me see.” Catrin turned his hand over, surprised that Meuric was showing pain for once.

  Lacerations striped his palm. Meuric snatched it back. “You’re not healing this.”

  Catrin held up her hands. “Fine. Fine.”

  “Tell me how to do active healing. How do you consciously heal yourself?”

  “This is endearing.” Catrin studied his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You, asking me to teach you something. You’re so vulnerable and unassuming.”

  “Don’t read into it. I’m just sick of being a burden.” He wiped his palm on his pants and grimaced. “We should continue on. It’s almost nightfall. Forget I asked.”

  “No, wait.” She grabbed his wrists, which were sweaty, noting the smeared blood. She loosened his sling so she could turn his palms together. “One hand over the injury. Usually the other hand goes over the forehead because the contact helps to focus and draw the pain away, but you’re healing your other hand, so that’s unnecessary.”

  She felt his searching eye, so she continued with the tutorial. “It’s like any ability with the light. Conscious focusing and telling it what to do. With healing, you peer inside and imagine how the body looks. This type of concentration is difficult if you haven’t seen the body this way.”

  Meuric blanched. “I’ve seen the inside of a body plenty of times.”

  Catrin tensed. Of course he would have. How could I forget? He’s probably eviscerated people. “Uh, but you go deeper than what the normal eye sees. Every part of the body is comprised of smaller and ever smaller components. The basic level of creation is miniscule, but you have to begin there. Summon light to it. You might not have seen such basic components before, but imagine them. Imagine tiny boxes and fill the boxes with the Light of Deian. Tell the light to restore them. Tell the light to join more and more boxes together. More boxes form into tissue and muscle. Blood vessels and capillaries can stitch together.”

  Meuric had closed his eyes. “I see tears. Jagged raw edges of my skin. I see where the blood seeps. They’re tubes… broken.”

  “Go farther. Find the boxes. Pull the boxes together, from one side of the gap to the other. Fill the boxes with the light and cement them.”

  Meuric smiled. Catrin knew his sight was pressing to unfathomable depths. His mind’s eye would delve into the body and open a whole new vision to him.

  Without thinking, Catrin skimmed her fingers against Meuric’s cheek until her palm rested against his jaw. Her thumb stroked the apple of his cheek while her other hand supported his. Catrin closed her eyes. A bird sang in a tree to the right. The earthen moisture in the air saturated her. She felt a pull as Meuric’s emotions sucked her in. A sense of rightness. A sense of belonging. She almost heard the drumming in Meuric’s chest. This excited him. Great accomplishment fortified him. Catrin understood how they were alike in this. Always independent. Always knowing who they were.

  Supposedly.

  Her sharp intake of air broke the hold Meuric had over her. She didn’t know who she was anymore.

  She stepped back, shaking her head. “I… I…” She wanted to burst into tears. “I—”

  Hands seized her wrists. Catrin wanted to disintegrate. Her knees buckled.

  “Oh no you don’t, not here on the ledge. The bottom’s twenty feet away. You can collapse there.”

  “I—”

  “You’re worried that if I use the light, I won’t be able to take us home. Is that what you saw? A shift in my light?”

  “No, that’s not it.” That might have been part of it.

  He stroked her hair and cradled her against his chest. His heartbeat drew her in.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I haven’t developed that much light. I can still ether jump without incident. I promise. But look.” He showed her his palm, which wasn’t completely healed but was scabbed over. “You helped me do this. It’s a start. Don’t be overwhelmed.”

  How to explain. She wasn’t overwhelmed because of her teaching endeavors or because of his success. She was drowning in her failures—her hopeless affection for a man who never loved her, her current place in time, this stranger for whom she was scraping open every wound. Mortification was more like it. She felt barren and impotent. Nothing was in her control. Her depleting light certainly wasn’t.

  Knowing Meuric was waiting for a response, she flubbed some words. “Impressive… first time. Very… err, well done.”

  What was worse—if Meuric tried, he’d be able to sense all of this because Catrin lacked the strength or will to build the wall that concealed true emotion.

  “Does that cheer you up?”

  Catrin pulled away from his chest. “Who said I need cheering?”

  “I do.” Meuric grinned down at her.

  In silence they sidled over the final path, reaching the bottom of the ravine.

  Catrin ignited an orb above their heads. “Thank you, Meuric.”

  “For what?”

  “For trying to cheer me up.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Meuric’s glow was obnoxious. Not as bright as any emrys, but bright enough to make a difference.

  Bright enough to tip his scale to the light.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  COMING UP FOR AIR

  They hiked several days, moving in and out of ravines, across gullies, and through forested undergrowth. Midafternoon on the fourth day, they reached the Great River.

  Catrin dropped her pack and gazed over the river as Meuric arched his arms into an overhead stretch. He had taken his sling off, but his muscles were stiff. Catrin advised him not to strain them right away. His continual use of the arm made her cringe with worry, but he didn’t complain of any pain.

  She was right; the river had swollen from the rains and was overflowing its banks. A waterfall nearly a hundred feet tall cascaded over a cliff at the edge of the highlands and fell into a torrent of swirling water, fueling the river’s fury.

  A huge tree trunk tipped over the edge of the falls and dropped into the churning waters
with a horrific crash. When it emerged, the tree was broken in pieces, sweeping downstream, passing them in a matter of seconds.

  “Catrin, you can’t seriously think we’re swimming that.”

  She frowned. The task would be difficult, but she didn’t see how Meuric could swim with his shoulder. “We’re going to have to break our rule.”

  “What rule?” Meuric followed the bank, moving away from the waterfall.

  Catrin scooped up her pack and picked her way over the rocks after him. “I’m swimming the river, and you’re ether jumping to me on the other side. Now would be a good time to use your gift whether it draws the attention of Cysgod or not.”

  “You must be joking. How will you swim across? The current will push you too far downstream.”

  “It will, but I have confidence. How else do you propose we bypass the river?”

  Meuric scrambled over a fallen tree and held out his hand. Catrin accepted it without hesitation before noting how firm and steady it was. They had become so used to each other after weeks on the road that she no longer balked at his touch as she once had—as she once had in the middle of an endless ocean. Catrin blushed and pulled her hand away.

  “Is there no other way?” Meuric asked.

  “In our time a bridge spans the river. That was way in the west in Hyledd. The river offered protection for the inhabitants in the south when the raid from the north came and conquered Hyledd. The river also prevented access to Talfryn. Eventually Lord Caedryn built a bridge in this region to carry his armies across. So, yes, in this time, this is the only way to cross the river.”

  “That bastard.”

  “What?”

  Meuric stared out over the water. “I knew him.”

  “Oh?”

  “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him. He’s dead.”

  “Good riddance,” Catrin said. “He nearly killed my brother in battle. He destroyed Cephias’s sight. Ahnalyn, Einion’s mother, finished him off. Good riddance.”

  Meuric huffed. “Well, since we’re bashing him, he’s the one who stole Rhianu’s virtue. He nearly took her power.”