For a brief moment, Malcolm regretted scaring the boy away, but he soon laughed at himself. What company would a mortal boy be to him, anyway? He had to stay focused if he was going to find Mara and Corbin. He wanted his Light back. Living as a mortal was not an option he could accept. Once he did get his Light back, he would make them all pay for what they’d done to him.
They would live to regret it.
Malcolm yawned, closed his eyes, and lay on his cloak. He would think more about his plan once he was rested.
When Malcolm opened his eyes the dark blue sky looked down on him. He hadn’t intended to sleep the entire day. His back ached from lying on the hard ground and he felt no more rested than before. As he sat up and stretched, the sudden feeling that he was being watched sent prickles up his neck. He whirled around to see Wynn sitting on a large boulder several yards away.
Malcolm groaned and rolled his eyes. “I thought I told you to go away.”
Wynn jumped down, grabbed a sack on the ground, and marched over to Malcolm with his dirt-covered cheeks puffed up in a smile. “I brought you this,” he said, setting down the sack at Malcolm’s feet.
Malcolm picked it up. The boy had brought him an onion, some carrots, wild asparagus, salted fish, and a loaf of oat bread. “How did you come by this?” he asked, his stomach rumbling.
Wynn shrugged with a grin and glistening eyes. “I found a pack of wolves.”
Malcolm scanned the darkness. “Are you alone?”
Wynn nodded.
“Good,” Malcolm said. He sifted through the sack and pulled out the food. Wynn’s large, brown eyes watched him expectantly.
Malcolm pursed his lips and in a moment of mercy, he tossed the boy some fish and a piece of bread. “What poor traveler did you steal this from?”
Wynn took a huge bite of the bread. “There’s a small hamlet in the forest up that way.” He pointed. “I snuck into their storage hut when they went to sleep.”
Malcolm nodded, undeniably thankful for the boy’s gesture. “Do you live around here?”
Wynn bobbed his head from side to side. “Here and there.”
“I see,” Malcolm said, studying him. For a forest dweller with dirty clothes and worn out leather shoes, this boy was much too cheerful. Even when he frowned his dark eyes remained lit with curiosity and a fearlessness that Malcolm admired.
Wynn brushed crumbs from his tunic. “How does a man with such fine clothes have nothing to eat? You look like you should have enough coin. Where is your horse, your long sword—your bow and arrow? Do you hunt? Don’t you have a guard that should be traveling with you?” Wynn asked without taking a breath.
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
Wynn grinned. “Only when there are many answers to be sought.”
Malcolm tossed him another piece of fish. “Has no one ever told you it’s dangerous to speak to, let alone steal from travelers?”
Wynn wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shook his head. “I’ve seen enough travelers to know who’s dangerous and who isn’t. You are not.”
Malcolm laughed. “And how are you so sure of that?”
“You have no horse. A man in finely woven linen should certainly have a horse and men riding with him. You have neither. You’re either running from something or you’re lost.”
Malcolm wrinkled his brow at Wynn’s self-assurance and wondered if he really did appear lost. He rested his arms on his knees and crooked his lip. “Well that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have cut off your hand for stealing from me.”
Wynn looked hurt, making Malcolm sorry for being cruel after the boy had just helped him. “But you’ve repaid your debt to me, so you and I are even,” he added.
Wynn smiled. “Then where shall we go next?”
Malcolm sniggered. “We aren’t going anywhere. You will stay here.” He pulled his cloak over his shoulders. “Don’t you have a mother that’s missing you by now?” Malcolm secured the short sword at his side and sifted through what remained in the sack. “Here,” he handed half of its contents to Wynn, “you’ve earned it.”
Wynn’s expression fell with disappointment.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Malcolm said. “All the best to you.” He began to walk back towards the coast but footsteps followed behind him. Malcolm grunted and turned. “You can’t come with me. I can’t take care of a child.”
Wynn crossed his arms over his chest. “Was it not a child that just saw you fed?”
Malcolm pursed his lips but then softened his expression and held out his hands. “Look, I’m traveling far. Very, very far. Much farther than you can manage. So why don’t you skip off back to your home and maybe you can find another traveler to bother tomorrow.”
It was clear Wynn wasn’t appeased, but Malcolm disregarded the boy’s determined stare and turned away.
“Wait,” Wynn shouted after him. “I know where you can get a horse.”
Malcolm stopped, pressed his lips together, and turned on his heel.
He didn’t have the means to buy a horse, and securing one would certainly make his journey easier. “You do?”
Wynn nodded enthusiastically, the glimmer of hope returning to his face. “I do. It’s the same place where I got the food. They leave the horses unguarded. It’s just a small hamlet; they don’t even have guards there. And you can get more food as well.”
Malcolm considered the proposition. “What’s in it for you if you take me there?”
A wide grin stretched across Wynn’s face. “You have to take me with you.”
Malcolm huffed and turned his head up to the night sky. He needed a horse and he did need more food, but bringing this boy along with him to find Mara and Corbin would be foolish. But even with his reservations, he had to admit he liked having another person to talk to. Perhaps if he wasn’t born a Dia, or raised by Rowan, the lying fiend of a guardian, Malcolm might have been just like Wynn.
Malcolm looked at the boy’s hopeful gaze and finally relented. “Very well, take me to this hamlet.” He followed Wynn’s eager steps through the forest, knowing full well that he had little intention of keeping his promise.
Corbin crouched down as the earth rumbled beneath his feet. The bluebells blanketing the forest floor gave off a lavender glow in the afternoon sun. He cocked his head to the left, listening to the muffled thunder of hooves, and just before the riders came in to view, he vaulted himself onto a high branch of an oak tree.
As the horses came over the slope of land, a quiet whistle caught his ear. His eyes darted around and then he looked up to see Mara, dressed in a man’s tunic and trousers, balancing on a branch much higher than his. She flashed him a gleaming white smile.
It was astonishing to see how silently she moved. Not even he could sense her with his keen ears. He pressed his index finger to his lips and turned his attention back to the hooded riders.
There were four of them in all, each with the slow measure of a mortal’s heart. He stilled and waited for the group to pass, planning to attack from behind, but the moment they moved beneath the tree, Mara leapt down with her sword drawn.
Corbin grunted and followed her, his feet silently hitting the ground.
The horses reared back. Three of the riders dismounted, swords drawn and ready to fight. Corbin’s stance widened as he awaited their charge, and when the three men came at him, he unsheathed his own sword and spun around like a spindle. Three loud clangs rang out, the men jumped back, and Corbin charged at the one in the middle.
He could hear Mara behind him, battling with the fourth rider. He glanced back. Mara was going easy on her opponent, not using her magic, but still managing to evade each blow.
He turned his attention as one of the men descended upon him. He barely had to flex a muscle, his movements nearly too fast for the man to perceive. And when Corbin knocked the sword from his opponent’s hand, a musical laugh stopped him in his tacks.
He turned to see Mara lower her sword and continue to laugh.
&
nbsp; “Much better, Annora,” she said. “I think you’d be a match for any man.”
Annora removed her hood with heavy breaths and let her golden hair fall loose from the cord that bound it. “I’m exhausted,” she huffed.
Corbin turned to Barrett, Ailwen, and Gareth standing next to him. “I suppose you’re finished as well? It’s only midday.”
Barrett stroked his red beard, his brows like caterpillars above his brown eyes. “Aye, I think we are, lad.”
Corbin smiled with a shrug. “Very well. But I must say, you’re giving up too easily, old man.”
Barrett chuckled and gave Corbin a warning look. “You looked a little worried when I came at you, son. You may have ancient power on your side, but I have experience, and nothing can beat that.”
“How true that is,” Corbin said.
Barrett, the man Corbin had known since childhood, was mortal and had been a soldier with Drake, Corbin’s father, long before their village succumbed to the invasions. Corbin only lived that life until the age of eleven. He remembered those days fondly, his boyhood dreams not forgotten.
Ailwen, Barrett’s son, secured his sword to his side and walked over to Annora, letting her lean on his shoulder. “Don’t let him fool you, Corbin. It’s not his age slowing him down. It’s the abundance of ale in his belly.”
Barrett laughed and patted his bulging stomach. “Aye.”
“And there may be more, yet,” Gareth added, wiping a cloth over his narrow face.
Corbin pointed a finger at Mara. “You were supposed to wait until they were farther up the road. How will Annora learn to defend herself if we always fall upon them when they expect it?”
Mara gave him a guilty smile. “What will it matter once they’re Dia? They won’t need to work half as hard. You and Drake are the ones insisting they train as mortals, not me.”
Corbin nodded in surrender. It had been two years since they left Valenia behind them and settled in the realm of Gwynedd. If it had been up to Mara, Corbin knew she would have used her gifts as the Keeper to make the others Dia the first chance she got. But Drake was insistent they wait, and given that he was more than five-hundred-years-old and knew more about these things than any of them, Corbin had to agree.
Corbin watched the others, wondering what they would be like as Dia.
Annora was already a descendant of the ancient Tuatha Dé Danann, but her bloodline was long ago diluted by mortal blood. At eighteen years old, she would soon come into a heightened state of power. But given how mortal she was, no one knew how the change would manifest.
With Mara’s gift of Light, Annora and the others would have the kind of power no mortal man could dream of. It would put Mara’s mind at ease, but it would change things. And Corbin wasn’t sure he wanted things to change.
The last two years had been just like this day, peaceful. And while the memory of Valenia—and the villain they’d imprisoned there—was always a silent shadow amongst them, they all tried their best to move on.
To the others, Mara appeared to be at peace, but Corbin still worried for her. Only he knew the truth of what had happened to her, and only he knew just how hard she tried to hide from the pain of it. Her melancholy smiles and distant stares gave her away. And although she made love to him with her heart and soul, each night when she began to dream, he couldn’t protect Mara from her memories.
He wished he could help her forget, but even he couldn’t forget them, no matter how hard he tried.
The memory of the day he found her, wounded and at death’s door, was seared in to his mind. She’d escaped Valenia after Malcolm had killed her uncle and taken her power. At the time, Corbin didn’t know what else Malcolm had done to her. There was a chance Mara might never have told him. But her wound was killing her, and when Corbin used his healing gift to save her life, he also saw in to her mind—saw how Malcolm had violated her.
The revelation in her mind was cloudy, but the villain’s purpose was clear. And like an imprisoned spectator, Corbin watched through Mara’s eyes as Malcolm treated her like he treated the village whores. Those visions still haunted him. And if they haunted him, they must still be haunting her.
Corbin blamed himself.
He was the one that left her behind after little Isa’s death when he should have protected her. It was a mistake he could never forgive himself for, and a mistake he would never make again. He loved Mara like he loved no other. He admired her strength and thanked the gods every day that she had walked in to his life.
Malcolm had come close to destroying her and everything else Corbin loved. And while Malcolm was no threat to them now, Corbin never considered the battle won. As long as Malcolm drew breath, Corbin would be on guard, ready for the day when he could throw the monster to the flames.
Barrett, Ailwen, and Gareth sat down under the large oak tree, while Annora handed them loaves of bread and slices of bacon from a basket.
As they ate, they heard an ox cart approaching. Corbin heard the sound long before it even came into view, and when it rumbled over the hill he saw the group of peasants.
The huge wheels of the cart rumbled as fast as the driver could get the ox to move. Behind it trailed a donkey, saddled with bags, and a procession of people.
Corbin got to his feet.
“What is it?” Annora asked, alarm sounding in her voice.
“Only travelers,” Corbin said. “No need to worry. They must be heading to Silver River.”
“This late in the day?” Barrett asked.
It was unusual to see a convoy heading to the village at midday. On market days they would travel at sunup, ready to trade goods with neighboring merchants. But this was not a market day.
The cart closed in on them. Corbin moved into the roadway and gave a friendly nod to the carter, who did the same with a tilt of his cap.
“Good day to you,” the man said, slowing the cart. The procession behind him stopped with curious glances at Corbin and his strange troop. Several of the women, with small children on their hips, kept their eyes locked on the unusual sight of Mara and Annora, both dressed in men’s clothing.
“What brings you through the forest this late in the day?” Corbin asked.
The carter looked ahead. “A wedding in Silver River.”
Corbin nodded, guessing it must be a noble wedding for peasants to travel so far. “Who is to be married?”
“The chieftain’s daughter, Alianor, is to wed a warrior from the eastern border of the realm. They’re making an alliance to protect the copper mines.”
This wasn’t unusual. Unlike the realm of Dumnonia, Gwynedd was without a sole ruler to oversee the entire realm. Instead, small tribes controlled their own territories and whichever lord laid claim at the time bound the peasants cultivating the lands.
Silver River was under the rule of Ebrill, an aging pagan warrior with no sons to take his throne. This put his village at great risk of attack, and so an alliance with another tribe would assure the survival of his bloodline.
The carter nodded towards the sword at Corbin’s side. “Soldier?” He looked at the others, as if seeing their weapons for the first time, and shifted uneasily in his seat.
“No,” Corbin said, not offering the carter any more information.
The man eyed him suspiciously. Corbin heard his heart quicken.
“I am not a soldier,” he said to ease the man’s worries, “merely training my friends.” He pointed to Mara and the others. “You can’t be too careful out here.”
“Aye,” the carter agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He turned back to the travelers waiting patiently behind him. “We’d best be on our way if we’re to make the ceremony.”
“Yes, of course.” Corbin nodded and stepped out of the way.
The man flicked the reins and the large animal lumbered forward with a grunt.
“Can we go to the wedding?” Annora asked eagerly when the procession had passed.
Mara arched a dark brow at Corbin. “We h
aven’t been to Silver River in some time. It would be nice to see a wedding.”
Barrett shot Corbin a cautious glance. Usually, attending a village wedding wasn’t dangerous, but this was a noble wedding, a unification of tribes. There were sure to be armed men there, warriors from the eastern tribe, and there was no telling just how amiable Ebrill and his new allies were with one another. Ebrill needed the eastern tribe’s protection, and Corbin knew well that sometimes necessity outweighs desire.
“It might not be a good idea,” Corbin said.
Annora huffed. “Oh, please, Corbin. I want to see the wedding.” She set her large blue eyes on him.
“We are armed,” Ailwen said. “What danger is there for us?”
Corbin shook his head. “They will take our weapons the moment we enter the gates, and besides, we are unknown in this village. Pagan women have an eye for the unusual. What if they should suspect Mara and me?”
“They won’t,” Mara assured, pulling her long, black cloak over her shoulders. “You and I can conceal ourselves well enough. And you can hide your sword.” She gave him a blithe smile.
Corbin’s hand rested on the hilt of his Dia sword. It was an ancient weapon, forged in Findias, made of a metal stronger than anything found on earth. He could conceal it from mortal eyes, but then he would be the only one armed.
Corbin caved under Annora’s hopeful stare. “Very well. But we will leave when I say we should.”
Annora clapped her hands and threw her arms around Ailwen. “I can’t wait. I haven’t seen a wedding since I was a girl.”
“You’re still a girl,” Mara teased.
“No more than you,” Annora said. “Although, in some villages, a twenty-two-year-old woman is considered an old maid.” She giggled.
Mara smirked and took Corbin’s arm as they trailed behind the group of peasants. “Don’t worry,” she said to Corbin. “Drake and Isa aren’t expecting us back until sundown. We have plenty of time.”
The Embers of Light Page 3