Faeborne: A Novel of the Otherworld

by Johnson, Jenna Elizabeth

  His shil-sciar words caressed her like loving fingers, but Seren didn’t want to hear them.

  No! she cried back. I will not leave you to die!

  “Uncle Brenn?” Rori rasped against his side. “Is she coming back?”

  Brenn glanced up to find the young woman again. She had taken a few more steps, but still looked somewhat disoriented. She was still fighting his magic, but it wouldn’t take much more time before she sloughed it off completely.

  Brennon took advantage of that time and crouched down so he was face to face with his nephew.

  “Rori, listen to me. I need you to do everything Seren says, do you understand?”

  He had taken the boy’s head between his hands, patting his hair back and forcing him to look him in the eye. Brenn had no idea how much Rori could actually see, but he needed the boy’s focus on him.

  “I’m going to stay back for now and take care of this misunderstanding. You and Seren are going to go on ahead of me.”

  Even Brenn could detect the lie in his voice, but he would not tell Rori the truth.

  “No,” Rori rasped, hot tears spilling down his cheeks and meeting his uncle’s fingers.

  “Yes, you will,” Brenn came back, his voice sharp and hard. Then he added, as he kissed the boy’s head, “I love you, Riordan Lyall O’Faolain.”

  For a few moments, Rori stayed absolutely still. Sighing, Brenn stood back up and faced the young mercenary. She was closer now and looked to have full control of her mind. Her grey-green eyes flashed angrily, and he could feel her immense power building once again.

  “You thought to use your special gift against me, Brennon Roarke? Did you think the Morrigan would not prepare me for such an attack? Come with me now, and I will spare the boy and the woman.”

  Brenn drew a breath to answer her, but before he could utter a word, Rori ripped himself free from Seren’s hold and bolted forward.

  “No!” the boy screamed, at the same time as Seren and Brenn.

  He didn’t make it far, but he hadn’t planned on moving more than a dozen feet or so from his uncle and Seren. He skidded to a stop, collapsing to his knees at the feet of the stranger.

  “Please!” he begged, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Do not take my uncle from us! Please do not hurt our family anymore!”

  He fell entirely to the ground then, his breath coming in great, sobbing gusts.

  Seren gave a small cry and made to go to Rori, but Brenn held her back. The look she gave him was enough to raise welts on his skin.

  We cannot, he sent. We cannot risk angering her further. She might lash out at him.

  Frowning, Seren nodded once, her fingers tightening into fists.

  For several seconds, Brenn and Seren simply watched the terrible scene before them. Rori kneeling with his forehead pressed to the ground as the Morrigan’s servant looked on in horrified confusion. Brenn watched her face carefully, waiting for her furrowed brow to smooth. She would grow tired of Rori’s display, and she would move to kill him. He knew her kind, had been around enough of them when in the employ of the Morrigan. Rori presented a nuisance to her, and she would rather do away with that nuisance than ask Brenn to fetch him away. As soon as her expression changed in that direction, Brenn would act. He would charge her, and probably die, but perhaps he could unleash enough of his magic to stun her for a while. He had to hope for that.

  Within seconds, the young woman’s face began to shift and Brenn got ready. Just as he was about to send off a final farewell to Seren, the mercenary took a slow step back, her face, to Brenn’s utter shock, softening. Her eyebrows took on a hint of kindness, and her flashing eyes settled into their original grey-green color. She sighed, shaking her head and pressing her lips together. The long dagger she clutched so tightly in one hand found refuge in a sheath strapped to her leg. The careful, predatory control surrounding her seemed to melt slowly away, like frost lingering in the shadows. For several long moments, she stood there, her eyes focused on another place entirely, perhaps even another time.

  Her changeable eyes were haunted when she finally returned her gaze to Brenn, and when she spoke, her voice was like wilted leaves, thin and transparent.

  “Th-there is a place, in the Weald. Deep in the Weald,” she murmured, her voice tight. “It is a place beyond the Morrigan’s reach. A place for the forsaken children and people of Eile to escape to, should they need sanctuary. The Morrigan cannot touch this place, and her faelah cannot find it. In the goddess’s eyes, you are Ehriad. And now, with the boy’s geis broken, she will break him just to punish you. Take my advice. Flee this place with him and the woman. Go to the Weald. Find the place of sanctuary.”

  Beside Brenn, Seren sighed quietly, reminding him it would be in his best interest to start breathing once again. He could not believe this incredible turn of events. Why was she helping them now? After she had been so adamant to return him to the war goddess.

  The young woman turned to leave, her movements slow and deliberate, as if her mind was still under his control.

  Brennon knew he should thank his ancestors for this good fortune and gather Rori and Seren up and run before any more ill fortune befell them, but at the same time he was curious, and a little bit suspicious.

  “Wait,” he called out, and the girl paused, not turning around.

  “Brennon!” Seren hissed, as she rushed forward to pull Rori back beside them. “Let her go! Before she changes her mind!”

  But, it was too late. He’d already stopped her. Pushing aside his anxiety, Brenn said, “Why do you tell us this? Why should I trust your word?”

  The young woman turned her head slowly, and by the time her eyes fell upon them again, Seren had her arms wrapped around Rori, her shoulder pressed into Brenn. For a few seconds, the girl studied them, her sharp eyes filling with something akin to sorrow. Then, just before she turned to leave them for good, her gaze fixed on Rori.

  She smiled ever so gently and rasped, “I have a brother.”

  Brennon watched her as she made her way slowly back to the main road, never once diverging from her path. He kept his eyes on her as she crossed the road and continued on through the fallow, frost sprinkled fields even as Seren and Rori pulled him into a communal embrace. A contingent of crows, searching for any sign of remaining grains or tubers from the autumn harvest, parted and let her pass. Even as her dark figure disappeared beyond the rise in the land, and despite Seren’s and Rori’s attempts at getting his attention, Brenn still watched her. When she had arrived it had been on a wave of purpose, determination and violence. But the young girl who left Ardun was nothing more than a wounded soul, crawling back to a master she could not escape. Brenn saw that now, because in her he saw himself, those handful of years ago when he had been under the Morrigan’s control.

  Brenn?

  Seren’s shil-sciar plea finally broke through, and he drew in a breath, turning to her. She had placed her hand on his arm, and her golden brown eyes held concern. Smiling, he bent down and kissed her. Not with the passion they had shared when alone, but with the promise of a future filled with love, joy and peace.

  He reached down and clasped one hand with Rori’s while pulling her close with his other arm. Brenn took a deep breath and cast his eyes to the southwest. The Weald was miles upon miles away, but if it meant finally having a true refuge from the Morrigan, then he would take it.

  “Let’s go find this place of sanctuary,” he murmured, smiling down at Rori, and then Seren.

  As the sun crested the altitudinous mountains to the east, Brennon, Rori and Seren bade farewell to Ardun one last time and began the journey that would bring them home.

  Epilogue

  Homeward

  Brennon woke peacefully, his eyes fluttering open and quickly shutting again against the bright light filtering down through the interlaced branches far above. For the first time in so many years, darkness had not crept into his dreams.

  With his eyes still closed, Brenn took another
deep breath and turned his head. When he opened his eyes a second time, his vision was filled with a lovely, familiar sight. Seren was gazing down at him, her head propped up by a curled fist, her large doe eyes taking in his entire face. She smiled, and her skin glowed with radiance. He couldn’t help but return the expression. He reached up and brushed away a clump of soft, earth-brown curls. Before drawing back his hand, Brenn let his fingers rest against her cheek, loving the contrast of their skin tones, his pale as sand, hers as rich as clay.

  Brennon was loving this new life of his, waking up next to Seren every morning. But that was only part of it. Rori, his sight growing stronger with each passing day, thanks to Seren’s careful ministrations, had come bursting back to life since his terrible ordeal with Baird and the Druid. If anything, Brenn was most grateful for the way the ever-present sorrow of Ardun had finally lost its hold over his nephew. Lately, Rori had been eager to start each morning, running slightly ahead of them, the wolfhounds at his side, in order to explore new discoveries along their chosen road. Soon, however, Brenn hoped they’d be settling down into a more permanent home.

  And that only got Brenn thinking more about their journey so far. He imagined they were still a week or so from reaching the outskirts of the Weald, and it would be tricky locating the place the Morrigan’s mercenary had told them about, but they were still together and still safe. True, it had been difficult traveling with their cart full of belongings, their pack of wolfhounds, the rooster and what remained of the hens crammed into a pen, and especially Nola, complaining loudly about the bumpy ride. But they had made do. It had slowed their trip immensely, but with Seren’s rare gift of healing, any injury or sickness any of them encountered along the way was easily dealt with. And the farther west and south they traveled, the warmer it grew. Back in Ardun, spring would be a good month or so away, but here along the outskirts of the Weald, new grass was painting the landscape green. Dermot was pleased with the sweet clover coating the ground, and the thick blanket of old leaves beneath the trees provided an endless number of litterbugs for the chickens.

  “How do you feel this morning?” Seren asked Brenn softly, so as not to wake Rori, who had camped down across the small glen they’d discovered the afternoon before. With the wolfhounds piled in around him, Brenn and Seren hardly worried about him at all.

  Brenn blinked and put his reminiscing aside for later, then pulled Seren’s head down gently to give her a lingering kiss.

  “Wonderful,” he said with a sigh once they parted. “Ever since leaving Ardun, I have gradually felt better. It’s a strange thing because the darkness had become so great after the fight with Baird and Uscias. I am beginning to wonder if the reason my demons haunted me so much was because I had so stubbornly insisted on remaining in my old home. So much death and tragedy there, it’s no wonder the faeduhn magic thrived.”

  Seren shook her head slowly. “You stayed for Rori’s sake,” she insisted.

  Brenn sighed. “I know. Leaving behind Ardun and the dark memories has been good for him, but I sometimes fear I’ve made the wrong decision.”

  Seren lifted a hand to his cheek. “Do not think that,” she scolded. “The geis was broken, and Rori is so much happier now. And you as well.” She bit her bottom lip suddenly, as if fighting off a smile. “Also,” she said, “I do not think it is the leaving of the house that has affected your condition.”

  Brenn blinked up at her, then rolled over and lifted himself onto one elbow so that he might be face to face with her. “How do you mean?”

  “Watch,” she whispered, her face becoming radiant once again with a full smile.

  She sat up, allowing the blanket to spill free and leave her exposed from the waist up. Brenn wasn’t going to complain about the view, but he did worry what would happen if Rori stirred. The boy was no longer mostly blind, and even though his sight wasn’t perfect, Brenn was sure he would notice Seren’s lack of clothing. A short snore and the mumbled words of a boy deep in sleep chased away Brenn’s fears. They had traveled hard yesterday, and Rori had spent a good half hour or more catching the chickens to return them to their crate before everyone finally settled down for the evening. He would not wake anytime soon.

  Brenn returned his attention to Seren. Two large swaths of her hair spilled forward, forming a golden brown curtain down the front of her torso. He was tempted to reach out and stroke that hair, but she had wanted to show him something, so he would be patient. Seren brought her hands up and faced their palms inward, as if she were holding an invisible ball between them. She let her eyes drift closed, and took deep breaths in through her nose.

  Just as Brenn was going to ask her what she was doing, he noticed it. The faint flicker of her golden-green glamour, burning like tiny licks of flame from the base of her fingers to their tips. She stayed still a while longer, the flame-like magic growing in intensity. Then, she lowered her hands and drew them apart, her eyes opening, the beautiful brown of their irises now glowing in the same shade as her magic.

  Brennon sucked in a breath as she moved her hands to either side of his head, but he didn’t dare move. Carefully, she brought them together again, so that her palms covered his ears, and her fingers slid gently into his hair.

  A rushing sensation, like the first gust of winter wind cascading down from the eastern mountains, washed over him. He gasped, drawing in a long, cool breath that tasted of snow, autumn smoke, fresh, unfurled leaves, and the sweet scent of a field full of wildflowers in bloom. His eyes shut of their own accord, and his mind was soon awhirl with memories.

  Brenn’s first instinct was to pull away, because these memories were the smoke-hued images of his past in the Morrigan’s army. They danced around, blurring and changing, never settling on one exact recollection. And then, all of a sudden, the whirlwind stopped, and a single memory stood out. It was his first punishment for being obstinate. He knelt before the Morrigan, her soldiers holding his arms outstretched. They tore his shirt free, and the whip flew. Before it could strike his back, and before he could cry out at the memory of the pain, a brilliant streak of green swept through and wiped it clean. The memory just vanished. Before Brenn could consider what this meant, a new memory surfaced, this one of him being chained to the wall in the Morrigan’s dungeons after receiving a punishment. He could still hear the screams of one of his fellow comrades crying out as the rats chewed at his open wounds. Just as he thought the recollection would drive him into madness, that same golden-green light burst onto the colorless scene, melting the fear and pain of the memory away, replacing it with beauty and light.

  This continued on for a minute or so more, the recollections exploding into his mind and driving him to the edge of madness. Then, that beautiful magic would come and wash them away, like chalk smeared across a piece of slate. They weren’t entirely gone, but their dark essence was no longer there. It was as if Seren had somehow figured out a way to strip the faeduhn magic from these remembered nightmares, leaving only the knowledge they’d existed behind.

  The flood of magic and memories stopped abruptly, and Brenn’s eyes flew open. He gasped for breath, like a diver breaking the surface of a lake after being under water for too long. Cold sweat plastered his hair to the back of his neck, and his heart raced. He darted his eyes around, finding Seren next to him, no longer sitting as straight as before, but leaning over, her own eyes clenched shut as she took long, slow breaths.

  “Seren!” he rasped, reaching out to her. He drew his arm back when he realized it was shaking.

  “No, I am well,” she said, holding up one of her own arms to stave him off. “It makes me dizzy and gives me a headache if I stay in too long.”

  Brennon was puzzled. “What? Stay where? What did you just do?”

  She pushed herself back up, wincing a little, but smiling despite her weariness.

  Reaching up her hand, she brushed her fingers against his temple.

  “In here,” she whispered. “All this time traveling has given me a chance to t
hink, and I came up with a theory. I thought, since I was able to heal major physical hurts, and temporarily chase away your nightmares, that maybe I could actually fix the ones stuck in your mind, as well. Not just soothe them temporarily.”

  Brenn recoiled in dismay, not because what she said terrified him, but because the thought of her experiencing the horrors he’d lived through with the Morrigan was simply appalling.

  “Seren! No, you mustn’t do that.”

  He clasped her hand in his and drew it to his mouth, as if kissing her would chase away the stain of his memories.

  Seren took her hand back and gave him a surprised look. “Why not?”

  “Because, what I lived through, what I endured,” he paused and licked his lips nervously. Those very memories threatened to resurface as he was forced to recall them. Only, he had trouble doing so.

  Furrowing his brow, he turned his eyes back onto Seren. She was smiling at him, a warm, gentle, knowing smile.

  “It is working, isn’t it?”

  Brenn didn’t answer, he just looked upon her in astonishment.

  “For the past week or so, I have been seeking out your terrible memories and making them clean while you sleep. Like leaching toxins from acorns. The pulp is still essentially the same thing in the end, only the poison has been removed. I’m removing the poison from your past, the poison that threatens to rule you, Brenn.”

  She reached up a hand again, touching his cheek with gentle assuredness.

  “I want you to be free of the darkness that haunts you. And it makes me so happy to know my efforts have been working.”

  Her voice caught a little at the end of her sentence, and Brennon felt his own throat begin to ache. This woman was a miracle, a gift he would never stop cherishing.