Rhiannon screamed again and tried to crawl. Gwen sprinted to her side but before she could fend off the creatures, blood spurted from where fangs met calf. Gwen sliced at the serpents. Distracted as they were by Rhiannon’s blood, neither were difficult to dispatch, and Gwen kicked away the limp carcasses in disgust.
“Rhiannon! Are you okay?” Gwen dropped to her knees beside Rhiannon. No other snakes came their way and the hisses of the rest faded into the distance, hastened by Aidan’s yells of triumph. Rhiannon’s tear-streaked face turned to Gwen and looked her straight in the eye.
“I can see now,” she said hoarsely. She glanced down at her legs and swallowed. Gwen’s eyes followed and she gasped.
The backs of Rhiannon’s calves were a mess of blood and ripped flesh. There was far more damage than any natural snake should have been able to inflict. The snakes had focused on immobilizing their prey. There was no way Rhiannon could walk. Gwen wondered if she would ever walk again.
The others ran up and Tristan skidded to his knees at Rhiannon’s side.
“No!” He stared in horror at her mangled legs.
Aidan went straight to work. He cut the sleeves off of his shirt with the dagger and threaded them under Rhiannon’s shins to wrap around the bleeding flesh.
“This should keep everything together, at least. Tristan, do you know any healing spells? Mine are fairly rudimentary.”
“I don’t know much.”
“At least something to stop the bleeding?”
“Yes, I can do that.” Tristan visibly collected himself and held a hand over each leg. “Hold on, Rhiannon—this might sting.”
Rhiannon let out a gasp that might have been an attempt at a laugh. Her face was pale and her forehead glistened with sweat. She clenched her teeth together and Tristan closed his eyes. Gwen held her hand, unsure what else she could do.
“You’re doing great,” she said.
“It’s done,” Tristan said a moment later. He sat back on his heels. “There’s not much else I can do. We’ll have to carry her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rhiannon said faintly. “You’re not carrying me anywhere.”
“There’s no way you can walk. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot. I know what happened. I won’t come with you the rest of the way. Find me a bush to hide in, and keep going. Or did you forget we’re on a timeline?” She looked pointedly at Gwen’s wrist, where the bracelet hung innocently. Gwen glanced at the tracker ring, insubstantial on her thumb.
“We’re not leaving you,” Tristan said at once.
“Yes, you are,” Rhiannon said. Her voice was thin, edged with pain and irritation. “Finish this thing. It’s my fault I’m hurt.”
“What? Don’t blame yourself for this.”
“I should have trusted Gwen. That was the whole point of this obstacle, and I failed.” She shrugged, and grimaced when the motion shifted her injured body. She smiled wryly at Gwen. “Nice dagger work, by the way.”
“I’ll stay with you, then,” Tristan said.
“No. We’ve made it this far, you have to see the quest through to the end. Find the spell and make this all worthwhile. Don’t you dare quit on me.”
Tristan hesitated, then nodded. He slid his hands under her body and lifted her up.
“All right. Let’s find a tree to stash you in.”
Gwen ran ahead to scout for a safe place to leave Rhiannon, heedless of potential dangers. Rhiannon was top priority, now. Over a small hillock, Gwen came across a tiny stream that burbled with fresh spring water.
“Perfect,” Gwen said aloud, and followed the water to her left. Thick bushes surrounded the stream, but opened up enough for a small, welcoming patch of soft moss to grow.
Gwen ran back to the others. Tristan labored with Rhiannon in his arms, who was white-faced and clung desperately to her brother. Aidan carried the satchel, his brow creased with worry.
“Why don’t you levitate her?” Aidan said.
“We might need all the magic I can muster. Who knows what’s up ahead? I have plenty of physical strength, but there’s only so much magic I can manage at once. Don’t forget Bran’s fate.”
“This way,” Gwen called out. “I found a good spot.” She led them to the mossy bank and held branches aside so Tristan could lay his burden down gently. Rhiannon hissed in pain, then pressed her lips together as if determined not to show any more signs of discomfort.
“There’s water from the stream, and food in the bag,” Gwen said. Aidan passed Rhiannon the satchel. “We’ll be as quick as we can.”
“You don’t have much time left, in any event. I’ll be fine. Go, and good luck.”
Gwen nodded and turned to go. Behind her, Tristan said, “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Go, brother. Don’t make me angry.” There was a smile in her voice as she said, “You know what I’m like when I’m angry.”
Tristan joined them on the path, his face grim.
“Come on, let’s find this spell and be done.”
“Can she be healed?” Aidan said. “When we get back?”
“I don’t know. Her tendons are completely ripped apart. Her skin can be healed, but who knows if she’ll ever walk properly again.” He swallowed hard, and strode down the path. Gwen bit her lip at Aidan’s stricken face.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s finish this.”
The trees thinned as they progressed. The sullen sky that hid the sinking sun shone a dull light through the canopy of rustling autumn foliage. Wind whipped dead leaves up from the forest floor to dance around their calves.
Between the thinning trees, low bushes of gorse and buckthorn appeared with greater and greater frequency. They were too well-placed, too perfectly maintained, to be entirely natural. A twist and curl of one plant stirred something in Gwen’s memory, and she trotted forward to join Tristan.
“Do these bushes say anything? I thought I recognized—well, something. I don’t know.”
“Good eye. The motif of Lady Maeve is repeated over and over. It’s pretty common on the approach to a grand estate. Marking territory. Unless someone still lives here, which is doubtful, the plants must be maintained by magic.”
“Isn’t that a very long-lasting spell?” Aidan caught up to them on the widening path. “Most spells I do tend to have a time limit.”
“It’s a very long time. Even strong magic rarely lasts past the death of its maker. The legends say Lady Maeve was powerful—looks like they were right.”
The forest brightened, and the trees ended in a wall of tall grasses. Gwen blinked in the unfiltered light. Before them, a rolling meadowland covered the entire promontory. The island’s edges fell away to steep cliffs where crying seabirds circled and thunderous waves crashed far below. Grasses in the meadow waved and rustled their dry stalks together. The wind flowed visibly across the land, below clouds of a threatening black. To their left lay the crumbling remains of a stone castle. Once upon a time a magnificent mansion must have stood proudly on the hillside, overlooking the stormy sea, but time had not been kind. The crumbled structure on the edge of the desolate cliff surrounded by dying grasses had an air of majestic melancholy.
The real focus of the vista, however, was located directly in the center of the meadow. Gwen’s eyes were drawn to it, and her body inadvertently shifted to face its direction. It was a garden, encircled by an ancient tall stone wall. The wall was topped with blousy tufts of late-summer roses in pinks and whites. Only hints of the garden appeared within, but it seemed well-maintained and alive. The contrast with the ruins beyond was staggering.
“Which way do we go?” she said quietly to the others.
“Only one real choice, isn’t there?” Tristan’s body was also aligned to face the garden. “The garden is the only thing maintained here, by magic for certain. Can’t you feel its pull?”
“And the castle looks like it should be condemned,” Aidan said. “I doubt anything is lef
t in there.”
Without another word they walked down the hillside toward the garden. Seed heads on the ends of long stalks tickled Gwen’s hands during their passage, and the wind blew her ponytail against her neck. The garden grew larger upon their approach, and a small clearing in the grass opened up to a curved archway in the high stone wall, which supported vast expanses of frothy roses. Gwen wondered how such an ancient-looking wall, the gaps between stones stuffed with yellowed moss, could support such a display. The garden’s pull was even stronger here, and Gwen could hardly help putting one foot in front of the other.
“Do you feel the pull?” she asked Aidan.
“Makes a nice change from the obstacles, I thought.” He grinned in reassurance, and she felt better. Loss of control was unnerving, but this is where they wanted to go. And she was sure that she could leave if she really wanted to—the pull was strong, but not all-encompassing. It was a strong suggestion rather than a compulsion.
They reached the clearing and stopped. Tristan looked to the top of the archway and Gwen followed his gaze. Even to her eyes, the flowers and vines appeared more purposeful there. Directly above the keystone, a flower surrounded by a curling vine with three leaves looked very familiar to Gwen. She’d seen a motif like that before, at the Garden of Love Made Visible, back on the beach.
“Does that say garden?”
Aidan looked impressed, and Tristan nodded slowly.
“Among other things. It says, ‘Garden of Unity.’”
They all looked at each other. Gwen’s own uncertainty was mirrored in the others’ eyes. This was it, the end of the road, the place where magic hummed so loudly along Gwen’s spine that she trembled. They were close, so close to achieving the impossible, to saving Bran and Isolde and her own life. She glanced at her hand. The bracelet twitched and buzzed on her arm and her thumb was visible through Bran’s ring.
Aidan wrapped his hand around the bracelet and she looked up.
“We’re almost there,” he said, his eyes sure and his voice calm. “We made it this far, against the odds. Let’s get this spell and go home.”
Gwen nodded, comforted by his show of certainty.
“And Rhiannon’s waiting. We shouldn’t hang around,” she said.
Tristan started forward when she mentioned Rhiannon, and they followed him into the garden.
Chapter 13
The perfume of a thousand flowers infused the air. A wilderness of plants greeted Gwen’s eyes—towering rhododendrons, opulent roses, sweeping clematis, carpets of bluebells, all seasons of flowers blooming together. It was full and wild, yet there was a certain order to the chaos, a pleasing arrangement to the disorder. A calm quiet fell on her ears—it was a living, breathing silence, full and lush. A path followed the curve of the garden’s wall and traced outward from their vantage point to disappear beyond the voluminous foliage. A central path lay directly ahead, but its winding way didn’t allow for long views.
The magic’s pull took them toward the center without discussion. There was only one choice, one way to go. Gwen passed Tristan and took the lead. Her bracelet buzzed uncontrollably, and disrupted the serenity of the garden for her. Their quest came first. Aidan followed close at her heels.
“There are directions for spells everywhere.” Tristan’s hushed voice broke the silence. “Absolutely everywhere. Look, this one tells you how to build a sturdy wall, and here’s one for changing the color of your horse’s mane.” He snorted, then looked closer. “They all need two people to work the spell, though. Only one magic-user, but two people present and willing. Strange—I’ve never seen spells like them.”
“Keep your eyes open for our restoration spell,” Gwen said. Her heart sank. Would Tristan have to search the whole garden? She and Aidan couldn’t read the spells to find the correct one. How long did they have? The bracelet jumped on her wrist uncomfortably.
“Oh, a spell that powerful? It’s probably the one that’s pulling us. The magic is so strong that we’re drawn to it. I doubt it will be hidden.”
Relieved, Gwen continued forward with Aidan. Tristan exclaimed now and then behind them at the spells he read. They turned and twisted down the path, unable to see farther than a few paces for the glorious profusion of plants. There were far too many flowers for this late in the summer.
“I’m sure that’s an iris. They should be blooming in the spring, not now,” Gwen said.
“It’s like magic,” Aidan said, and they grinned at each other.
A magnificent cluster of lilacs marked the entry to a central clearing. It appeared as a small green room. Verdant foliage loomed on all sides and the air was heavy with the scent of honeysuckle. Crushed oyster shells on the ground surrounded a circle of bare soil below a pedestal.
The pedestal was cut from gray granite, carved with designs so ancient and weathered that Gwen could hardly make them out. The top was large and flat, pitted with small divots worn away over the centuries.
Gwen and Aidan walked slowly toward the pedestal. Gwen knew that here lay the restoration spell. Her whole body practically vibrated with the magic that emanated from the pedestal.
The blank surface of the pedestal shifted and shimmered, in a way that stone had no business doing. Slowly, an inscription in English appeared chiseled into the top. Gwen held her breath until the words settled into the stone as if they had always been there. She and Aidan leaned forward as one to read the inscription.
Only those of pure intent
Can death and destruction prevent.
Power of creation must preside
But magic will also provide.
Write the spell in living motif
From a plant that brings relief.
A connection must be made
Between growth and those receiving aid.
Bind it all with powers outpoured
Only then will health be restored.
Gwen stood upright and puzzled over the words. Aidan looked at her.
“Typical. Another cryptic message. Why do the Breenan never say what they mean?”
“Luckily it’s in English. I wonder if the spell somehow sensed who we are, so it could write in language we understood.”
A strangled yell erupted from behind them. Gwen whirled around. Tristan’s boot thrashed on the path from behind the lilac.
They ran back to him, and Gwen gasped. Tristan’s arms were encircled by bright green vines, and another thick vine snaked around his chest. Tristan’s eyes were open wide with fear.
“Help me!”
“Hold on!” Gwen dove toward him with her arms outstretched, intent on ripping away the strangling vines. Her body slammed into an invisible wall and she fell back on her bottom. Aidan reached out to the struggling Tristan, and met the same resistance.
“There’s a barrier here.” He patted his hands over the invisible surface, and then ran sideways to feel the extent of the barricade. There was no way around.
“What happened?” Gwen said. “I thought you were right behind us.” She raked the wall with her fingernails, but the empty air was as smooth as glass. “Can you tear away the vines?”
“No, I’m stuck.” Tristan wriggled and kicked his legs, then gasped when the vines drew tighter around his chest. “I tried to use a spell, and the plant attacked.”
“What spell? We need to do the restoration one!” How could Tristan have forgotten their quest so easily?
“I know. But this spell said it would heal any flesh wound.” Tristan closed his eyes briefly, his face woebegone. “I was trying to help Rhiannon. But the spell needed two people to work.”
“Dammit,” Gwen said. She looked helplessly at Aidan, who shook his head. “Just—don’t struggle, okay? We’ll figure out this spell and fix you, Rhiannon, everyone.”
“Please hurry.” Tristan’s voice wheezed hoarsely, his chest movements constricted. “It’s getting tighter.”
Gwen ran to the pedestal, Aidan right behind her. She read the inscription again.
&nb
sp; “Gwen, is it your bracelet making that buzzing sound?”
“Yeah.” She scanned the inscription. Her eyes flicked back and forth frantically, without comprehension. “I don’t understand this. What do they want us to do?”
Aidan looked up at the tracker ring on Gwen’s thumb. It flickered feebly. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Bloody hell. Bran must be almost gone.”
At this, Gwen tore her eyes away from the pedestal and looked at Aidan. Panic licked the edges of her mind. The restoration spell was hidden behind cryptic instructions. They had failed at their quest. She would die, along with Bran and Isolde, and now Tristan. Aidan would be left to drag Rhiannon’s injured body back to the mainland, where they would be vulnerable to any ill-fortune. Gwen’s father would never see her again, would never know what had happened to his only daughter.
This was it. She reached out and took Aidan’s hand.
“Don’t leave me alone,” she whispered. “Stay with me until the end.”
“You won’t die,” he said, his voice fierce. “We will figure out this stupid inscription, now, together. And we will survive. Both of us. Don’t you dare give up.”
Gwen closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Okay.” There was nothing to lose by trying. “Let’s work it out.”
“Line by line. First one, ‘Only those of pure intent.’ Well, I’d say we’re being pretty damn selfless. If this doesn’t count, I don’t know what does. ‘Can death and destruction prevent,’ fine, that’s what the spell does.”
“‘Powers of creation must preside, but magic will also provide.’ Okay, so we’ve got to be creative about this spell.”
“Well, we have a leg up on any Breenan, being part-human and not so dense about thinking outside the box.”
“But we also need magic,” Gwen said. “This sounds like a human-Breenan combo to me. Which makes sense, given the queens who made up the spell. Every obstacle we’ve encountered so far has needed creativity and magic together, or at least people from both worlds to read instructions.”
Breenan Series Box Set Page 41