Lucidea frowned but kept chopping at a handful of carrots. “Saw a healer about six months ago for a virus, but otherwise I feel healthy. Why?”
A hint of tension escaped in the single word question. Breanna’s healing abilities far outshone any physician, fae or human, and she knew showing interest could cause Lucidea some concern. “I think you might want to visit an obstetrician soon.”
“Obsetri—” Lucidea laughed bitterly. “I don’t need and obstetrician. I’m not pregnant.”
Bree’s smile grew. “Are you sure?”
Carefully and methodically, Lucidea placed the knife on the cutting board then turned to Breanna and crossed her arms. “Not funny, Bree.”
Tempering her expression, Bree explained. “I know how many times you’ve been disappointed. You and Jayse. I’d never make light of your inability—I take that back—your past inability to carry a child. Trust me. You show the signs of a soulfire baby.”
Disbelief warred with hope in Lucidea’s expression. “Even if it were so, I’ve had so many miscarriages.”
“Always early?”
“Yes, almost before we even knew there was a possibility of a child.” Lucidea slumped wearily against the counter.
Touching her arm, Bree nodded. “I know. But this is more than just a possibility. From the strength and vibrancy of the indications, I’d say you’re over four months pregnant.”
Hope won the battle and sparkled in Lucidea’s eyes but she worried her lower lip. “It can’t... can’t be true.”
“So, if you don’t trust me, check with a healer or a human doctor. In my non-medical opinion you’re going to be a mom.”
Lucidea snatched her into a hug so fierce Breanna gasped, then chuckled and returned the hug. Lucidea spoke softly into her ear before releasing her. “Don’t mention this yet. I want... need to make sure. We’ve had so many disappointments. I’m old to be having a child.” She stepped back and hugged herself. “A first child.”
Bree chuckled and Lucidea frowned at her. “What?”
“You’re forgetting your family history. Your own husband was born when his mother was in her late forties. His grandmother was...” She paused to calculate. “As near as we can figure, she was over nineteen hundred human years old when Jaye was born.”
Joining in the soft laughter, Lucidea swatted Bree’s shoulder. “She’s Faerie, I’m not. And I’m only half Alfar. But, don’t worry, your point is well taken.”
“Good. And you’ll see a healer?”
“Yes.” Lucidea’s eyes softened as she seemed to look inward. “Yes,” she whispered, then gave herself a soft shake and nodded toward the counter. “Now, let’s get this food on the table. Coralie should be back with the sculptures soon.
Now that he’d woken from the lethargy of boredom, and renewed his focus for revenge, Brandr Ur gathered power in a frenzy of determination. Stepping beyond his claimed territory, he discovered others. Most ran, terror of the light burning in his chest stronger than their fear of the unknown gray. A few, some he’d manipulated before, came to him willingly. For, if Brandr Ur made good his escape, he knew they would follow. It mattered not what world they spilled into—the land, the people, power would be theirs for the taking.
Or so he let them believe. He’d waited long enough, had been without strength and ability far too many eons. He itched with the need to burn, to destroy, to conquer. He’d escaped one prison long ago, he would do so again.
The fire elemental stood still and let the memories of his emergence into the world of Dea Anu flush through him. He still desired her, a child born of humans, who became woman and yet was more than human. He tilted his head to one side. What had the believers called her? Not a god. He snorted. There had been few of power even then. Weaklings all. Barely worthy of an elemental’s distain.
Ah, yes. His lips twisted. A demi-god. Even with that human given title, had she not been Dea Anu, she would not have garnered his notice, being no more than a pesky fly. But even as a newborn babe, she had radiated power. Not a power he could take—though he’d tried—but power that should have merged with his and lifted him to the lording of many worlds.
She had refused him. Him! Brandr Ur. The last, the greatest of all elementals. Foolish girl. Instead she had chosen a godling with minimal powers.
Even after these long eons, remembering the woman brought new fire to his body and he grew painfully thick and hard. She’d refused him but he’d taken her anyway. First by force, a marginally pleasing experience. Then he’d tried tenderness, but she’d no more responded to him than she would to a tree branch. Finally he’d pounded into her in anger, her tears more satisfying than the release of his seed.
She’d born three children from his seed. He laughed. And none to the upstart godling. The laughter turned to a growl. None of his children worshiped him. Instead they’d joined their mother and her godling in banishing him to this place. Ingrates. Fools. He pounded a fist against his palm. After the human world, the worlds they’d populated would be the next to cower beneath his anger.
Now echoes from other worlds rang with the promise of a new conjunction. Long ago he’d set his plan in motion, a motion now closing the circle of time. From this circle he would burst anew into worlds ripe for his taking. Grinning, he rubbed his palms together generating pleasing heat.
Yet time remained before he could rip free of the world between worlds. Time enough to renew his torment of the young water prince he’d pulled into this prison at the last juncture. His erstwhile descendent. He lifted his chin to sniff the wind. How had there come to be such weakness in the blood of his blood?
Then Brandr Ur bent and scooped up a handful of the dry dirt, warming the dust with his power. The gray grains sifted through the elemental’s fingers, drifting away on a hot breeze.
By remaining a step ahead of the prince, Brandr Ur could torment, taunt, and destroy any spark of life remaining in the fool. Brandr Ur searched his memory for the upstart’s name. Personalizing his torment would make the pleasure more satisfying. After a piercing glance into the distance, he turned and strode toward the temple ruins of his chosen territory. No matter. He would remember soon.
Six
Gowthaman watched with vague interest while Breanna and Lucidea talked. Sure the rise and fall of quiet laughter had nothing to do with him, he attempted to focus his thoughts on the glass figurine and the drawing from the open volume and how they related to the information he yet needed to discover in this quest.
But his gaze kept slipping past the pale, leaf-green glass to Breanna. Her wide blue eyes sparkled and he wondered what made her so happy. His heart pounded and stark emotions lurched in his chest. He closed his eyes. He knew how to put the sparkling glow of happiness in her expression. To do so would be easy. All he need do was love her. The way she deserved to be loved. To give what she silently asked of him every time she was near.
Yes, he did desire to make her happy. Ached for the chance. But with the darkness clouding his mind such a relationship was ill-fated and impossible.
The splash and soft footfalls signaling Coralie’s return was a thankful diversion from the morose direction of his thoughts. Gowthaman shifted in his chair. And for his uncomfortable physical reaction to Breanna’s smile. Moments later Coralie, wrapped in a terry robe, glided into the kitchen and placed the two carvings from the palace beside the first. She slipped a small towel from her shoulder and blotted water from her curls. Jayse returned and lay a folded parchment on the table next to the sculptures. With its worn appearance, Gowthaman surmised the page had been handled and refolded many times. To complete the circle, Breanna and Lucidea brought salad and thick sliced bread to the table with them.
But the meal remained untouched while they studied the three nearly identical figurines. One of smooth glass, one of well polished, silver-toned metal and the third of roughly chiseled stone. Only the position of the center disk marked any other difference between the three. Gowthaman added to his original sketc
h then froze with his pen suspended over the page.
Tiny nicks and protrusions in the bases might indicate—
Lucidea gasped and reached for the stone piece. “What if...” Carefully she moved the stone and metal statues close together. “It looks like... yeah, these fit together.”
Her thoughts mirroring his, Gowthaman nodded and leaned closer. “Yes, but not in the manner you have them. Place the glass piece in the center.”
After switching the pieces, Lucidea held her breath and slowly pushed them together. The tiny indentations and protrusions fit and locked with soft clicks.
Breanna rose to lean over Gowthaman’s shoulder. Her soft scent teased Gowthaman’s nostrils. “Okay, that’s nice. What does it mean?”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward him. Startled from drawing in a deep appreciation of Breanna’s unique spicy-sweet scent, he straightened. A moment passed in silence as he mentally scrambled to gather his straying thoughts. “I do not know. I discovered nothing like these in any of the scrolls or texts. Perhaps—”
A light, melodic hum rose from the glass disk. The light vibration spread to the other disks. The resulting chord rose in volume, paused and restarted twice, then faded. When the last tone died, a tenor, overly-modulated voice began to speak.
“I make this recording to immortalize my role in the glorious new world created by the coming of the fire elemental Brandr Ur.”
“Pagas,” Coralie hissed in disgust. Her fingers tightened on the table edge and she rose.
“Wait, Coralie. Listen,” Breanna said. “Maybe what he’s saying will help us bring Morghan home.”
Coralie shook her head. With an apologetic glance at the others, she released a long breath and took a step away from the table. Breanna grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward and toward her chair. Coralie continued to shake her head as she sat. “I had ne’er thought to hear that voice again.”
Pagas’ speech continued, but Gowthaman heard nothing but self-glorifying, verbal posturing. Considering the possibilities for advancing the recording, he tilted his head to study the three disks. He hoped they would be able to replay important sections. Or they might only be able to listen to the message once. He flipped to a clean page in his journal and began to transcribe the speech.
“Good idea,” Breanna whispered as she slid the sketchbook in front of her. “I’ll take notes too. Hopefully I’ll catch anything you might miss. We may only get this one chance.”
Her insight and willingness thrilled him and he missed a few words as Pagas moved from glorifying himself to a brief description of how the elemental first contacted him. Breanna understood the needs of intellect and worked well with him. In past research efforts, what one picked up on complemented the other to give a more complete picture. In this case he hoped for a complete solution and a successful rescue of the Alfar-Sindhu prince.
Pagas spoke on. And on. Underlying the drone of his proud words Gowthaman detected anger at being used by the elemental. Gowthaman allowed himself to empathize with the other man. But only for a moment. The invasion of another mind without permission remained an unpardonable sin. That Pagas continued to invite and allow the elemental access to his mind was unpardonable. Gowthaman dragged his full focus back to Pagas’ words.
“...fool, Lachlan...”
“Daddy,” Lucidea whispered. Jayse wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him.
Gowthaman’s grip on his pen tightened with a flare of primal envy. No. He would focus.
“...left a journal. Ramblings of the Sinhu crown prince.” Pagas laughed, currents of evil flowing through the sound. Breanna shivered.
“...able to use single pages to torment the secondary prince. The remainder is hidden in the rough stone wall behind the library. So near to those who would cherish Lachlan’s words, yet so far.”
Coralie was on her feet in an instant. “I shall go—”
“Wait.” Jayse lifted one hand. “There may be more.”
Coralie clenched her fists, but remained still, only rising to her toes, ready to rush off at any moment.
The recording device fell silent. Gowthaman glanced up from his writing. Matching frowns around the table focused on the trio of figurines. Finally Lucidea stretched one hand toward them and carefully poked the connected bases. “There must be more. There has to be.”
Coralie took a step toward the table. “Aye, more. Please. Air mo shon.”
At her words the disks resumed humming, the tones slightly lower and more discordant than before. Breanna made a soft sound of triumph then positioned her pen on the sketchpad and returned to an intense listening silence.
The voice speaking was different, deeper, more commanding and honest. A pleasure to listen to.
“Morghan.” Coralie’s voice broke and her eyes filled with tears as she slipped back to her chair. Lucidea took her hand.
The recording started in the middle of a thought. Breanna made a quick notation then glanced sideways at Gowthaman. His mouth set in a thin line, he returned the look. Even more than she might ever feel a loss of some of Morghan’s words, Gowthaman mourned any missing information. Pagas must have recorded over the words Morghan had already placed there. With luck, they would be able to correlate what they already knew with any new information Morghan may have placed in his message.
“...I have felt the vibrations upon the wind while the waters speak to me. Spurred by these feelings, I take upon m’self a charge. To protect the human world as well as my Sindhu folk.
“Why the human world? I believe this world be the only place he can thin the veil enough to break through.”
Morghan took a deep breath. Only the scratching of Gowthaman’s pen could be heard in the room.
“As ye ken, Coralie an’ I searched long for the incantations used to originally bind the elemental. While we did no’ find the exact words, we also discussed the conditions needed for his escape. I believe until recently the elemental did no’ ken this knowledge either.
“A conjunction of full moons is needed. No’ just any full moon, but the second within a human month. What ’tis called a blue moon. An’ no’ just a single blue moon, but the conjunction of three blue moons in three differin’ worlds. I believe a world where magic is no’ so believed in must be home to one of the moons. I am also convinced one must be in the world the elemental wishes to enter. Both conditions are ripe in the human world.”
Listening not only to Morghan’s words but also to the tones of his voice, Breanna scribbled her notes. Without looking she knew Gowthaman’s notes were more complete and infinitely more readable. She sensed him nodding as if the recorded voice confirmed the theories he’d already discussed with her. Hopefully that was true. It didn’t sound like they had much time to prepare. The worry in Morghan’s voice was nearly palpable and a corresponding urgency rose in her.
“An’ I ken the elemental has much of the knowledge I’ve gathered. Mayhap his understandin’ is greater than mine, but I must hold to the truth he does no’ ken everythin’. I wish I could speak of this to ye afore my battle with the elemental this night. There is much to say an’ too little time. Once I complete this recordin’...”
Morghan paused again. In the silence, Coralie drew a shaky breath.
“Sweet Coralie, eudail, ’tis my hope ye and Lucidea be still at the manor and that she has accepted in truth her heritage. Fair niece, the help I can give ye now rests with yer father.
“Time grows too short and I must face the elemental. I set the field of battle to give him no foothold in this world. Luck is no’ my companion this night. I feel a chill wind of evil intent. The elemental is strong. Do no’ underestimate him or his tricks. He will use any means to gain his desires. This night, an’ in the future.
“I offer ye my knowledge, such as it may be. For if ye listen here, ye have the skill. Dinna concern yerself wi’ my fate, I do as I must. As ye will. Remember, a message waits for ye with my beloved brother. Mo air shon, for my sake, my loves
. For the sake of both our worlds, ye must no’ allow the elemental freedom.”
Morghan’s recording ended with an odd, metallic squeal. After staring at the figurines and willing them to speak again, Breanna asked, “You think that’s it?”
Coralie nodded. “That sound indicated the end of the magic. ’Twas all he had to say.”
Jayse scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Wonder what he said before, what Pagas recorded over.”
Bree doubted they’d ever know until they were able to ask Morghan himself. And unfortunately, he’d given them less information than they already knew. “What did he mean that the help is with your father?”
Dabbing at her eyes with a napkin, Lucidea shrugged.
Jayse straightened from comforting his wife and gave Bree a terse grin. “I may be able to help there.” With attention focused on him, he unfolded the sheet of parchment he’d brought to the table.
Lucidea waved one hand toward the page. “That’s a letter Morghan left for me. I’ve read it so many times. There’s nothing... Oh.”
Jayse’s grin spread. Coralie’s eyes widened. Gowthaman cocked his head to one side. Bree felt totally left out of the loop. “What?”
Jayse explained. “There’s a line in this letter that we’ve never been able to figure out. It seemed so out of context. But in the light of Morghan’s statement that the knowledge is with Lucidea’s father, we might finally understand what he was trying to tell us.”
Still confused, Bree tapped one finger on the table. “But, you’ve never found... Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring up any more bad memories. But how could something be with your father, when you never found his... uh...”
“It’s okay, Bree.” Lucidea took the letter from Jayse and lovingly smoothed her hand over the parchment. “Here’s the line he wrote. ‘Lachlan listens, for the future whispers to his ear’.”
Gowthaman straightened with a jerk and dropped his pen. “In the skull?”
Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) Page 5