by Sarra Cannon
“What about Dewi?” Bran asked. “We sent her to, ah, blend in with the Old Ones eons ago. Since then, she’s ignored my requests to return.”
“Aye, and ’tis precious little in the way of spying she’s done for us,” Arawn added, sounding irked.
“I don’t know,” Aislinn replied, glad the dragon seemed impervious to being bullied about. “The Old Ones call her Orione. She, ah, recognized me as a MacLochlainn and covered my butt so I could hustle Rune and myself out of there.”
Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt Fionn glare at her. “Ye had such a close call, then, and went back for more. What are ye, lass, stupid? Are ye so intent on throwing your life away—?”
“Leave her be.” Bran snorted. “Ye are so deep in rut for your long-lost soul mate, ye canna see straight. Lass.” His coppery gaze found hers. “If ye ever tire of him and his overbearing ways, I wouldna boot you from my bed.”
That brought a laugh from the others. Aislinn held her breath and blew it out once Fionn joined in, saying, “There just might be a wee bit o’ truth in that, though ye can forget the bedding part.” He clapped Bran on the back and returned to his chair.
Aislinn drained off half her mead, relished its heat traveling to her belly, and then launched into the second installment of her story. I could have my own television show. Aislinn’s Adventures in Taltos. Bet it would sell as well as Alice in Wonderland.
She noticed Gwydion looking oddly at her long before she stopped talking, but ignored him so she could finish what she had to say. His blue gaze grew unnerving, so she faced him and asked, “What?”
He shook his head. “I suppose I was marveling that ye managed to kill a Lemurian. Had ye stuck with magic, ye would have failed. Why ever did ye choose hand-to-hand combat against an adversary so much more powerful than yourself?”
She shrugged. “Rune had already killed two of them. I figured if he could do it, so could I.”
Gaelic flowed around the table. She followed some of it. Mostly, the men were speculating why Metae hadn’t fought back harder.
Aislinn broke into the conversation. “For some reason, Metae wanted me alive. She must have thought she had a special enough bond with me that we could leverage to work through the bad feelings.” Aislinn spread her hands in front of her. “She used compulsion like always. For some reason, I was impervious to it this time.”
“Dewi,” Fionn muttered. “She’s got to be behind this. She’s the one who opened your mind to the Old Ones’ language.”
More Gaelic. They’d been hunting Dewi for centuries, but she’d hidden herself, ostensibly deserting them after they’d sent her to spy on the Lemurians. They argued about what Dewi had up her sleeve, masquerading as Orione. Aislinn heard MacLochlainn over and over, but couldn’t decipher the parts before or after.
Once she finished her meal, she asked, “What are you saying about me?”
“I thought you understood Gaelic,” Fionn said in perfect English.
“I do—sort of. But not when it’s so fast.”
“It doesna matter,” Arawn said. “According to Fionn, ye are not interested in Irish history. Besides, it would take far too long to give you a crash course in your ancestry. The short version is that your family and Dewi have primordial links dating back to the fifth century. She would protect you. ’Tis part of an ancient bond.”
Aislinn narrowed her eyes in thought. “It’s not so much that I’m not interested, but it feels a bit overwhelming.”
She’d begun formulating questions, when Gwydion flowed from his chair to an upright position in one supple movement. Like Fionn, he was incredibly light on his feet for such a large man. “I would look on that spell in the attic that defeated you, lass.”
Rune padded into the kitchen, a rabbit clutched between his jaws. Aislinn hoped everyone would remember not to implicate Marta in whatever had happened to her parents. “We’re going back to the attic,” she told the wolf. “You can stay here and eat. Bella will keep you company.” She glanced meaningfully at the raven.
Aislinn led the way to the back staircase. Fionn trooped after Gwydion. She smiled to herself. He doesn’t want to leave me alone with one of his buddies. Is he really afraid I’ll take a shine to one of them? Aislinn couldn’t help herself. She laughed at the absurdity of it. Fionn was almost more than she could handle. The last thing she needed was two of him.
“What’s so funny?” Fionn asked, but she just shook her head, grateful he hadn’t chosen that particular moment to read her thoughts.
Once in the attic, Gwydion stalked to the corner Aislinn indicated. He raised his staff, spoke words in a language she didn’t recognize, and the length of polished wood in his hand came alive with light. The minute it did, she saw a spell hovering around two crypts.
Fionn pulled her toward the stairs. “Guard your eyes, lass. His spells can get extremely bright.”
She waited, peering through spread fingers, but nothing happened.
“What manner of being made this?” Gwydion asked, sounding curious.
“Why, I suppose she was human.” Aislinn dropped her hands to her sides.
“Nay. Not possible.” Gwydion turned to face them. “Magic spreads from the two lying here to the rest of the house and beyond—far beyond. I doona think the house is illusion, yet I wonder what will happen to it—and whatever is linked to it—if I break the enchantment. I need to know more before I charge in, else I could rupture something that canna be fixed.” He hesitated for a beat. “I wouldna be quite so cautious but for the link to Taltos that we already know is here.”
Fionn stepped away from her. “Let me help. We can explore it further.”
The Celts raised their hands and chanted. Aislinn watched intently. Magic fascinated her. It always had, even when she’d thought it the purview of fairy tales. The crypts became clearer as the mists shrouding them moved aside. Made of shiny stone that looked like beige marble, they glowed warm against the dark of the attic. She repositioned herself so she could see beyond Fionn and Gwydion. The bodies lying in the crypts were amazingly well preserved. They didn’t look dead. The faces were pink, the flesh full. What had Marta done? Were her parents sorcerers? Had they cooperated, or been duped?
Gwydion’s staff blazed with blue light that made her eyes ache. Fionn moved to the far side of the crypts, hands extended, chanting in the odd language Gwydion had used before.
The woman sat up and tossed a leg over the side of her crypt. Gray hair cascaded over her shoulders. She shook her head, as if she’d been asleep. Brown eyes fluttered open. She gazed from Fionn to Gwydion. “I am guardian of the gate,” she pronounced. “How dare you disturb me?” A second leg followed the first.
From the expression on Fionn’s face, it looked like he’d commanded her to stay put, but his magic wasn’t doing the trick. The woman was pushing right through it.
Fionn shouted for Arawn and Bran. Footsteps pounded on the attic stairs. They raced to Fionn’s side, apparently strengthening his binding.
The woman tried to get the rest of the way out of her crypt, but this time, she couldn’t move and drew her lips back into a snarl. “I tell you, I hold the gates. Destroy me at your peril.” A crafty look crossed her face. “I can do just as good a job with the gates if I’m awake.”
Her gaze drifted about the room. “Where is that daughter of mine? Last I remember, she got Dad and me good and drunk on something.” She reached for Fionn’s leg, almost grabbing a handful of fabric before he sidestepped out of her way. “So long as I’m up, boys, how about a little fun? You’re a likely looking bunch, and I’ve been asleep for ages.” She tried for a come-hither expression, but all she managed was to look like a whore well past her prime.
Fionn and Bran grimaced.
The man in the other crypt stirred and made a low moaning sound. “Who dares disturb me?” emerged from his half-open mouth as a breathy sigh, words slurry. His voice sounded rusty. It must have surprised him, because his eyes popped open.
They were the same muddy brown as the woman’s.
Gwydion sketched something in the air with his staff, and Aislinn saw the protections around the two resurrecting themselves.
“Aye, good idea,” Arawn muttered, adding layers to the enchantment as he shoved the woman back into her crypt.
“You’re putting them back to sleep,” Aislinn gasped. “Why? I thought the whole point was to see what they know.”
“Hush,” Fionn said. “We’ll explain later.”
Because she didn’t see the point in watching four magicians work on a binding she’d done her damnedest to unravel, Aislinn went back down the stairs.
“Did they free them?” Rune asked.
“Yes and no.” Aislinn poured more mead and settled in to wait.
It didn’t take long before the men returned, but when she got to her feet, she was decidedly tipsy. It felt good. “Well?” she said, hands on her hips. Then she looked at Rune. “Maybe you might not want to listen to this.”
“She was my bondmate. I have a right.”
“Aye, that he does.” Gwydion pulled out a chair and sat heavily. “They truly are guardians. They hold the pathways open between this world and many others. If we destroy them, there willna be a way to return the dark gods to their realms.”
“Or to oust the Lemurians,” Bran added. “Thank Christ ye dinna destroy the binding, lass.” He tugged out a chair for himself and gestured for everyone to sit.
A sudden chill marched down her spine. Had her naïveté almost doomed Earth? I have no business dabbling in arcane magics. None. I don’t know enough. She shivered, remembering her impressions from the photographs she’d found in the study. “You said they weren’t human. Did you figure out what those things upstairs are?”
“We think so,” Fionn answered. He threw his leg over a chair, picked up the mead bottle, and drank. “Hmph. Nearly empty.”
“There would be more where that came from,” Arawn said.
“You didn’t answer me.” Aislinn felt like a nag, but she had to know.
“The ones in the crypts were not exactly spilling secrets,” Bran said dryly, “but we believe they are the product of humans who mated with Lemurians.”
“If that’s true,” Fionn added, looking grim, “it means the Lemurians plotted for years to create gateways to allow the dark to infiltrate Earth so they could ally with their power. The last Surge was only one piece of a much-larger puzzle. Though they don’t look it, the Old Ones are a dying race, which is why they attempted to blend their bloodlines with humans. How they managed to have such a pairing take is beyond me.”
“How does Marta fit into all of this?” Aislinn was mystified.
“That’s easy,” Arawn said. “The Lemurians struck a deal with some greedy humans—likely scientists. Who knows how they twisted DNA to come up with viable offspring. The two in the crypts are brother and sister. Marta was their child.”
“Were they the only ones?” Aislinn asked. A macabre fascination filled her, along with an understanding of why Marta was so tall.
“We have no idea,” Gwydion replied. “But if the Lemurians have been successful bringing human DNA into their bloodlines, their alliance with the dark may well prove unstoppable.”
“I told you we needed to act,” Fionn muttered.
“Aye, that ye did,” Bran agreed. “And here we thought ye were simply besotted with the MacLochlainn.” He shrugged. “At least we know the feel of the hybrid race now. ’Twill make it easier to hunt them.”
“No wonder Marta went mad.” Aislinn felt disgusted and impressed at the same time. The woman must’ve been amazingly powerful to trap her parents into holding the gates between the worlds so she could travel back and forth to Taltos and probably other places as well.
Then she remembered the wolf. “Rune. I’m sorry.”
“I wondered why she did not smell entirely human.” The wolf was on his feet, clearly agitated. “She raised me. I thought all humans smelled that way until I met others.” A growl emanated from the back of his throat. “I should have asked more questions.”
“It wouldna have mattered,” Gwydion said. “She wouldna have answered.”
Aislinn went to Rune and knelt next to him. She searched for a way to tell him Marta hadn’t been in her right mind. That maybe human intelligence couldn’t coexist in the same body with anything Lemurian, but he shook her off and left the kitchen. With a worried-sounding squawk, the raven followed him.
“There is much we doona know,” Arawn said. “Marta may have embraced her Lemurian side or despised it. Mayhap she only hated her parents. I’m not as certain as Gwydion that the two above hold all the gateways. Yet, they hold enough of them that ’twould be foolhardy to disturb the binding.”
Aislinn stumbled to her feet. “From what I overheard in Taltos, Marta hated the Lemurians and did everything in her power to subvert them. How soon can we go back there and obliterate those bastards?”
“’Tis the dark gods who have to go,” Bran said thoughtfully. “Without them, the Lemurians wouldna have enough power to bother anyone.”
“And the human-Lemurian spawn—if there are more of them,” Fionn added.
“Tricky of them,” Gwydion muttered, “to make something that looks so like a human we never would’ve thought to look twice.”
“So Taltos isn’t the answer?”
Aislinn looked around at the men. No one answered her. For some reason, she felt thwarted. She’d found something she could handle, but it wasn’t the salvation she’d hoped it would be—not for Earth, and not for her. Even if she’d been able to destroy the harmonic, it wouldn’t have affected the dark gods at all. A complex strategy she could only begin to guess at linked the Convergence and its Surges to the Old Ones, the dark gods, and their minions. She hoped they could figure it out before it was too late. Maybe her nerves were playing off the urgency in Marta’s journals, but she didn’t think any of them had much time left.
“We need to talk with Dewi,” Fionn said thoughtfully.
“Aye. If nothing else, mayhap she can tell us why she’s still in Taltos and not with us,” Arawn muttered, sounding annoyed by the dragon’s defection.
“Don’t we need more of a plan than that?” Aislinn demanded. The beginnings of a headache pounded behind one eye. She knew she needed sleep.
Gwydion nailed her with his sharp, blue gaze. “Humans are hasty, lass. Better to take the time to make sure of your strategy than to bludgeon your way through something and make a fatal mistake.”
She thought about the crypts and winced. “Touché. Think I’ll catch a couple hours’ sleep before I fall on my face.”
Fionn got to his feet and placed an arm around her shoulders.
They hadn’t made it five feet down the hallway when Arawn called him back. “We need you here, Fionn, not rutting in yon bed. Bid the lass a good night, then return to us.”
Chapter 20
Aislinn didn’t even remember the rest of the walk to her bed. She woke once to find Rune stretched out beside her, snoring softly. Part of her thought she should go look for Fionn, but before she could force her body out of the warm nest she’d made under the covers, she fell back asleep.
Something tugged at her shoulder. She ignored it. She wanted to stay asleep. She’d been dreaming that she was riding Dewi, soaring above a medieval-looking castle while wearing tight-fitting leather breeches, lace-up boots, and a form-fitting leather jacket. The deer hide garments cut the wind so she was toasty atop her mount, gloved hands curved around spines growing out of Dewi’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized it in the dim light of the cavern, but the dragon’s scales were blood red. We make quite the pair, Aislinn laughed to herself. My hair almost matches her coloring.
“Yes, daughter,” Dewi spoke into her mind. “We were made for one another. Never forget that.”
“Aislinn. Wake up. ’Tis important.” Fionn’s voice was insistent. He tugged harder on her shoulder. Then he bent and kissed her neck, nuzzling
it.
“Go away.” She tried to sink back into her dream, but it was impossible. She rolled over and put her arms around Fionn’s neck. “I was having the best dream.” She pulled him toward her. “Lie down as long as you’re here.”
“Nay, lass. There’s not the time for that, though I dearly wish it were otherwise. Ye must be up.” He straightened and gazed fondly down at her. “Ye’ve nearly slept the clock round as ’tis.”
“You sound like my mother—in more ways than one.”
He inhaled audibly and blew out a breath. “Ye must hurry, Aislinn. We’ve been talking with Dewi. She wants you to come to her. Now.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Aislinn sprang out of bed, realized she was mostly naked, and shrugged. It wasn’t anything Fionn hadn’t seen before. “I was dreaming about her.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He handed her clothes from off the floor. Warmth spilled from his eyes as he helped her dress.
Aislinn pulled the flannel shirt over her head and slithered into Marta’s pants. She hunted in the semi gloom for her boots and a pair of socks. “What did the dragon have to say?”
Fionn fired his mage light so she could find her other boot. “I think I’ll let her tell you. Ready?”
She followed him down the hallway, took a turn through the kitchen, and they went out through the back door. “Where’s Rune?”
“Right here.” The wolf ran to her. The new day yielded just enough light for her to see his eyes gleaming gold. He looked happy.
“This way.” Fionn led her around to the back of the house. Dewi lay on her belly, but Gwydion, Arawn, and Bran still had to look up to meet her whirling gaze.
“My MacLochlainn,” Dewi purred and stretched out a taloned foreleg. “I have waited long for this.” Her voice was musical and multi-toned. It reminded Aislinn of the Old Ones when they spoke English.
The dragon’s words sank in, and Aislinn stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean?” Even though the men seemed to be looking right into Dewi’s eyes, Aislinn avoided them. What if they sucked her in and she couldn’t get away?