Faeborne

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  She let go of him then, spinning on her heel. She wasn’t sure if she planned on marching into town on foot, or simply walking outside to get some fresh air. Before she took two steps, however, Brenn caught her hand, forcing her to fall back a little.

  Seren turned to look at him, her brown eyes melting into a ferocious gold.

  “Wait, Seren. This isn’t just about me, or Rori, anymore.”

  The tone of his voice frightened her a little, and she lost a bit of her determination.

  “What?”

  The Faelorehn man took a deep breath and sat down against the desk top.

  “They have Rori. He is unharmed, and will remain so, unless,” he paused.

  Seren waited a few moments. “Unless?” she pressed, when he didn’t continue.

  “Unless I hand you over to them.”

  All the color drained from Seren’s face, and her arms dropped loosely to her sides. She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned her back to Brenn, unable to face him.

  The desk let out a squeak as Brennon stood back up. He draped his arms around Seren’s torso and pulled her back against his chest.

  “I thought by running away from here, they would lose interest. I thought if I was out of the picture, they would have nothing to bargain with,” she said, her throat tightening against her rising emotions.

  “Nothing will ever make them stop, Seren,” he whispered against her hair. “They are ruled by greed, and even if they get what they desire, they’ll move onto the next thing they covet and do what they must to obtain that prize as well. I am just sorry you are stuck in the middle of all this. My only question is, why?”

  Seren squeezed her eyes shut. “They know about my glamour,” she breathed. “They know I can heal terrible wounds.”

  Brenn took a step back and held Seren at arm’s length. His face was stern, his jaw set. “How do they know this?”

  “The night before you left for the boar hunt, I came to the decision to tell you about my gift, to heal the wound between us by showing you I trusted you. The following morning you were gone before I woke, and since I was going to tell you anyways, I decided to try to heal Rori’s blindness using my glamour.”

  Brenn’s fingers tightened on Seren’s shoulders. She lifted her hands and wrapped her own fingers around his wrists.

  “I was careful, Brenn, I swear it. When I started to send my healing glamour into Rori, there was no one around. Uscias and Baird crested the hill just as I was finishing up with Rori.”

  Her voice had turned bitter, and she cast her gaze to the side.

  “I didn’t think anything would happen. I was just experimenting, but I should have brought Rori back into the house. The Druid and Baird heard and saw it all.”

  “You couldn’t know they were spying on you, Seren. I should have warned you. I knew they were the ones vandalizing my property, and I knew they had been responsible for the chickens. I foolishly believed going to the Solstice festival would make a difference. I thought if Uscias knew I was onto his schemes, he would back down. I fear I only made it worse. And now, he wants you.”

  She didn’t ask why the Druid wanted her. She already knew. Even when she had asked the vile man the morning before what her fate would be, she knew the answer despite his refusal to tell her.

  “He wishes to curry the Morrigan’s favor by handing me over to her, doesn’t he?” she asked, her voice oddly calm.

  Brenn wrapped her in his arms then, offering his own comfort and strength. Seren took a deep breath as her mind raced. What would the Morrigan do with her? Use her as a weapon somehow? Simply sacrifice her and absorb her rare and powerful glamour? Seren drew in a gasp at the thought. She did not want to die, but she did not want to live as a slave, either, especially one serving the goddess of war and strife. But what choice did she have? If she refused to go, then Rori would die instead.

  Seren squeezed her eyes shut and pictured the boy’s face: his pale, sun-kissed skin, his golden hair with just a touch of red here and there; his ability to see so much of what mattered in the world, despite his blindness. In her mind, Rori’s great, blue eyes gazed up at her, a new light shining from them the moment he realized she had restored a tiny fraction of his lost sight. She was determined now, more than ever, to heal the young boy’s eyes. He had grown so very dear to her, and she could not imagine a world without his delightful joy, without his cheerful company, without his enthusiasm for life. No, she could not let him die. Seren feared death, and feared a life of slavery even more, but if that’s what it took to guarantee freedom and a future for Rori, then so be it.

  She turned to look at Brennon, standing so silent and still beside her, his flashing grey eyes impossible to read. Her heart wanted to cry out her anguish and despair, but she forced those suffocating emotions into a dark corner of her being. Instead, she focused on him, the man who had shown her that not everyone was cruel, shallow and selfish. He had taught her how to trust again, and that falling in love was so much more than mere attraction. It was about friendship, loyalty, devotion, honesty and above all, knowing and accepting that the other person was far from perfect. It was a willingness to grow closer, in mind, body and spirit, and knowing the hardships faced together only make that bond stronger, like steel tempered in a forge.

  Seren was only beginning to understand this with Brenn, and those scant hours spent with him the night before were not enough, not nearly enough. She craved so much more, a lifetime of his affectionate words murmured in her ear, his gentle, enticing touch, his soul opening up to hers. It was far too soon to say goodbye to that. Gritting her teeth, Seren did her best to push all those regrets aside. Many live an immortal lifetime never finding a scant fraction of what you were able to share with Brenn. Be grateful you had any time with him at all. Rori needed her now, and she would not let him down.

  Steeling herself, Seren gently pushed away from Brennon and stood up straight. She lowered her hands to her sides, her fists clenched.

  “I’ll go,” she said flatly. “They can take me and hand me over to the Morrigan. We can’t let them hurt Rori.”

  The change in Brenn’s demeanor was both swift and startling.

  “That,” Brenn growled between clenched teeth, “is not going to happen. I vowed never to use my cursed ability again, that awful magic which allows me to overcome another’s mind. Too many people suffered because of it, and I will hold their suffering in my soul for all my immortal life. But there is something that would torment me more; cause me more pain than anything the Morrigan ever managed with her abuse and torture, and that would be losing Rori. And you. I will break the vow I made with myself in order to keep you and Rori safe.”

  Even if it means crossing that narrow threshold and finally becoming Faeduihn, he didn’t say aloud. Even if it means my soul will be lost to the dark evil that haunts me when this is all over.

  And Brennon was positive using his glamour to control another would be the final straw. But he could not let Seren know.

  She blinked up at him, finding his grey eyes a deeper blue than usual. She knew that look. Brennon would not budge from his decision. Nothing she could say or do would convince him to let her go alone. Taking a deep breath and releasing it out slowly through her nose, Seren crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

  “Very well,” she stated in a strong voice, “but I am going with you. I would see Rori safe and sound. He has come to mean a great deal to me as well.”

  She reached out a hand and placed her fingers on his elbow, her eyes lifting to catch his. “Just as his uncle has.”

  Brenn took in a breath to tell her no, she thought, but a quick shake of her head and a tightening of her fingers stopped him short.

  “No, Brennon. I will not be told what to do. I will not be left behind. I have spent most of my life letting others force their will against mine. Not anymore. I am tired of backing down because others think they are stronger than me.”

  Brenn’s fingers found Seren’s chin, tilting her fa
ce up once again, so he could study her expression.

  “You are right, beloved. Forgive me. I do not wish to hold you back, nor am I suggesting you are weak. I simply do not want to see you hurt,” he murmured, leaning down to press his mouth to hers.

  Fire and ice coursed through her, both burning and chilling her at the same time. Of their own accord, her arms reached up and wrapped around Brenn’s neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Gods, would she ever get her fill of him?

  Seren broke the kiss, leaning her forehead against Brenn’s chest. Both of them took a few moments to catch their breath.

  When she was able to speak, Seren said, “I don’t want to see you harmed, either. You or Rori.”

  Grabbing onto Brennon’s hand, she pulled him toward the door.

  “Let’s go,” she demanded. “Let’s go get Rori before the day comes to an end. He has already been with those vile people long enough.”

  Without another word shared between them, they left the empty house behind and headed for the barn.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Standoff

  Before leaving Ardun, Brenn filled Seren in on everything the note had entailed. Uscias, Baird and Arlana would wait until noon at the crossroads to make the trade. If Seren did not show, they would return to their fortress of a home until noon the next day. They would do this for three days; harming Rori in some way after each day and then killing him if no one arrived by the third day. This knowledge alone had stirred the darkness residing in Brenn’s soul, and that, combined with the Druid’s insistence upon making this heinous trade at the crossroads, was enough to give the faeduhn magic an advantage. He only hoped he could control it until he saw Seren and Rori safe.

  The crossroads, like his manipulative glamour, was something Brenn never wanted to revisit again. The current circumstances, however, were giving him no other choice. Located a mile or so southeast of Dundoire Hollow, the crossroads had been the place where Baird’s father had handed him over to the Morrigan’s soldiers when he was just sixteen. Revisiting that particular location would undoubtedly dredge up memories he had hoped to banish for good, memories that would only distract him from his task. And that is exactly why, Brenn mused darkly, Uscias chose the crossroads to make the exchange.

  “What do you need me to do?” Seren asked, yanking Brenn from his brooding thoughts.

  “When we get to the crossroads, I need you to stay close to me and feed me a constant stream of your healing glamour.”

  She nodded once and leaned into him, finding comfort in his loose embrace.

  “You need me to keep you conscious, so you can deal with the monsters who took Rori.”

  Brennon nodded his head, his cheek rubbing against Seren’s hair.

  “Yes. I don’t suspect there will be a hundred of them, but Baird, Arlana and Uscias would be fools if they didn’t bring along extra help. Ten, maybe fifteen hired thugs and some of their reprobate friends. I can handle that many long enough to retrieve Rori, but it will be difficult. Having you there to lend your strength will help immensely.”

  Seren fisted her hands in Brenn’s shirt. “I won’t fail you, or Rori,” she vowed, her voice a harsh contrast to her usual, soft tone. “I will not stand idly by and let others bring misery down upon me and those I love.”

  Seren’s fierceness pulled Brenn from his melancholy, and he gave a small smile.

  With one hand, he brushed back her hair and said, “Then let us go prove to the world we will not tolerate those who try to move us with hatred and violence. But there is one more thing I’d like to try first.”

  Seren arched a dark brow at him. Brenn took a deep breath and let it out swiftly.

  “Have you ever used shil-sciar to speak with another?”

  Seren nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, my mother taught me the mind speech when I was quite young. It proved very useful on many occasions.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek and averted her gaze. Brenn had no doubt such a skill would be necessary for the Fahndi girl and her mother. He imagined many conversations passed between them under the harsh gaze of their fellow tribe mates, friends and maybe even family who should have loved and included them but judged and ostracized them instead.

  Shaking those morose thoughts from his head, Brenn focused his words and sent them on a silent stream toward Seren.

  I think it would be good to make a connection, so we might be able to speak, should we need to, once we get to the crossroads.

  I agree, Seren answered easily, her eyes meeting his, her lips pressed together as she let her thoughts dance across his mind. We would not want the Druid and his awful associates to know our thoughts and intentions.

  Brenn’s face broke into a brilliant smile, sending shivers down Seren’s spine.

  You are quite good at this, mohr faelorah.

  Seren glowed at the term of endearment, leaning into Brennon as she answered, I have had years of practice.

  Brenn dropped a quick kiss onto her upturned lips, then turned away and quickly hoisted himself onto Dermot’s back. He pulled Seren up to sit behind him, and she tightened her arms around his torso. It was meant more as a comforting embrace than the need to stay atop the horse, and Brennon was grateful for it. She snuggled up behind him, pressing her face against his back while his thick cloak fell over her legs, keeping her warm. Brenn needed Seren’s presence and compassion just as much as she needed his at the moment. And he knew his spirit would have to rely on her strength long before this was all over.

  With a click of his tongue and a gentle, encouraging kick, Brennon got the Shire horse moving down the path. They passed between the two standing stones keeping watch over the main road like a pair of ancient sentries, and then headed east toward town.

  The minutes ticked by, but Brennon kept Dermot at a steady pace slightly slower than a full gallop. All around them, the landscape seemed unnaturally still, as if the icy air had frozen it in place. Tiny flecks of snow fell from the ashen sky above, prickling at their exposed skin and adding to the drifts already covering the ground. Brenn’s breath hung in the air, resembling white chimney smoke, and Dermot puffed like an angry dragon. Not too far ahead, a fox darted across the road, its brilliant red color reminiscent of a streak of blood staining the snow. Brennon gritted his teeth, trying not to take it as a bad omen. Instead, he tried to think of all the lovely things he, Seren and Rori would do together after all of this was over.

  Dundoire Hollow, like much of the world surrounding them, was eerily silent as they rode past. Even in this chilly weather, there was usually someone milling about; a man venturing out to get a pint of ale at the Black Boar, perhaps. Or a mother bundled up in layers of wool making a mad dash to the grocer in the hopes of purchasing some honey for her sick child’s cough. Even a group of older children throwing clumps of snow at one another before being called in to the warmth of their homes. None of these scenes disturbed the muffled silence, and Brenn had the chilling thought that perhaps the people of Dundoire Hollow had caught wind of what had most recently happened between him and Baird. Did they expect a great battle to take place? Were they keeping to the safety of their cottages for fear of their lives?

  Brenn shook his head, flinging partially melted snowflakes from his hair. He would not think about it. But, as Dermot followed the winding road southward past the village, he felt the anxiety in his stomach tighten even further. Beyond the sleepy town, the land gradually sloped away to the north and east, giving way to the great wide valley and plains resting at the foot of the mountains. Skirting the valley to the south stretched the endless moors. Where they met up with the edge of the plain marked the beginning of the Morrigan’s Realm. If Brenn hadn’t been anxious before, he was on the verge of panic now. His heart thrummed against his ribcage, and his skin prickled with cold sweat.

  Seren must have sensed his unease because her grip around his middle tightened, and she cleared her throat, speaking up so she might be heard over Dermot’s steady hoo
f beats. “Is all well?”

  Brenn opened his mouth to answer and found his throat dry. “Yes,” he rasped. “I will be fine. I haven’t been to this part of the country since escaping the Morrigan’s army.”

  Seren squeezed him once again, this time to give him reassurance. The gentle, golden glow of her magic flared brighter, seeping beneath his skin and calming his nerves. He let out an appreciative sigh and trained his eyes forward. Far ahead, about a mile or so where the road dipped down into the lowering terrain, he saw it: A great big, ancient oak tree, its branches reaching toward the sky like a gnarled hand pushing out of a fresh grave. The image gave Brenn another shot of ice through his blood, but he kept control of his unease.

  The bark of the old oak was iron grey against an even paler winter sky. It grew dead center where the two major roads met, its thick branches arching over the corners of the roads. In summer, the tree would be robed in a mantle of rich green, but now it was skeletal and menacing, its leaves long since withered and carried away by the brisk autumn winds. No tree in this part of Eile was taller, nor had as many branches arching out from various places on its trunk, than this one. Not even those deep in the forest behind Ardun. Brenn was certain of it.

  “It looks like the peaceful giants of the Weald,” Seren breathed, admiring the tree as they grew ever closer.

  Brenn gave a quick nod, his hands tightening on the reins as he encouraged Dermot to slow to a walk.

  “It is a magnificent tree,” he admitted.

  Too bad it reminded him of his dark past. The oak had paid witness to his transition from a free Faelorehn young man to a beaten down slave of the Morrigan. It was not the tree’s fault his fate had changed so drastically that day, but it was the one thing that stood out so vividly to him: the great oak, a sacred symbol to his people, looming overhead while the awful soldiers of the war goddess dragged him away, screaming for his family.