The Embers of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  “It’s all right,” Ailwen assured. “We will get you out of here.”

  Corbin reached in and grabbed one of the boys by the shoulders, pulling him out and setting him on his feet. Corbin looked him over to make sure he had no other injuries. The boy was dumbstruck, his face covered in dust and his eyes wide with fear, but he wasn’t injured. He handed the boy to Ailwen and went back in for the other one. Corbin focused his vision and saw that this boy had a long piece of timber pinning his leg to the ground. When he reached out to lift it off, the boy flinched and whimpered in pain. “It might hurt for a moment,” Corbin said. “I have to move it to get you out of here.”

  “All right,” the boy said with a reluctant nod.

  “Here,” Corbin handed the boy a thick splinter of wood, “bite on this for the pain.” Corbin could have healed the boy right then and there, but the cave was trembling dangerously and there was still one more boy to find. He had to move quickly.

  The boy bit down, and faster than the boy could see, Corbin removed the post and lifted the boy out.

  The boy winced again when he put weight on the injured leg, but nodded.

  “Good,” Corbin said. “Ailwen, follow me with the boys. They’ve almost broken through the rock. I can hear the other boy near the entrance.”

  Corbin moved quickly to the mouth of the cave, while Ailwen and the two boys followed. Hammering and shouts could be heard on the other side of the rock as Corbin made his way towards the child. This one was in worse shape than the others. A pile of rubble lay over his torso, and blood trickled out from the boy’s ear—a sure sign of imminent death.

  Corbin looked back to Ailwen. “Have them look away.”

  He bent down and stroked the boy’s head. “Don’t fear, lad, we will get you out of here.” He quickly pulled the rubble off the boy and then placed his hands over him. The hammering continued outside and larger pieces of rock fell to the ground. They would break through any moment.

  Corbin focused his energy and his healing Light radiated from his hands. The boy’s eyes were closed, but Corbin could hear his breathing growing stronger as his body mended. Finally, the boy opened his eyes and began to cough.

  “What’s your name?” Corbin asked as he lifted the boy up.

  “Aerfen,” he said with another cough.

  “Put your arms around my neck and hold tight, Aerfen.” Corbin picked the boy up and reached for the one with the injured leg. “I’ve got these two,” he said to Ailwen.

  Just as they reached the entrance, a pickaxe broke through the rock. An orange glow from the many torches outside flowed into the cavern. More hammers struck the stone, and hands started to pull away at the loose pieces until there was a wide opening. Faces looked in, trying to see the horror of what they expected to find inside, but when Corbin stepped forward, several surprised gasps broke through the air.

  “They’re alive,” someone shouted as others gave sighs of relief.

  Corbin handed Aerfen to a pair of outstretched arms. “We made it through the other side,” he said.

  He set the boy with the injured leg down, coaxed him forward into another pair of arms, and reached back for the third boy with Ailwen. “Don’t be frightened,” Corbin said as he picked up the boy and sent him through the opening.

  Ailwen hopped down from the rock with a grin.

  Corbin stepped out into the fire lit night as the relieved villagers cheered. Mara was waiting at the entrance with a wide smile on her face. “I thought the villagers were going to beat you to it,” she said.

  Corbin smiled. “Where’s Barrett with the horses?”

  “Over on the hill. I told them to wait back there while I tried to calm the boys’ mothers.”

  “Good,” Corbin said, looking back to the mine.

  Ailwen was standing in the opening, accepting thanks from the villagers when a terrible cracking sound cut through the air and in a heartbeat, the entryway collapsed, taking Ailwen down with it.

  Corbin’s heart felt like it stopped beating as the breath caught in his throat. “Ailwen!” he shouted as he and Mara bolted towards the collapse.

  The rest of the men near the mine jumped back as the ground shivered beneath their feet. Corbin heard the muffled thunder of horses’ hooves on soft earth behind him and Barrett’s low voice calling out for his son.

  Ignoring the watchful villagers behind them, Corbin and Mara used their Dia strength to remove the stones one by one. Mara was just as strong, if not stronger than Corbin, and tossed the heavy rocks aside as though they were made of wool.

  “Ailwen! Ailwen, can you hear us?” she called out, but there was no response.

  Soon Barrett and Gareth had climbed the rubble and began to lift stones away, while Annora cried with terror behind them.

  “Dig faster,” Barrett shouted with panic in his voice.

  Corbin plowed through the stone with sweat dripping down his forehead. His heart thudded in his ears, the sounds of all else around him nothing more than a muted boom of voices. He dug until his fingers were raw, when he saw the top of Ailwen’s blond head. Mara came close beside him and pulled away the remaining debris so Corbin could pull Ailwen out.

  He wasn’t breathing, and the skin all over his body was red.

  “Heal him,” Mara urged. Even though her Light was strong, only Corbin could heal others. And of even greater consequence, Ailwen was mortal. Not even Mara could use her gift to give him life. If Corbin couldn’t save Ailwen, no one could.

  “They will see,” Corbin said, looking over his shoulder at the watchful villagers.

  “Save him!” Barrett demanded.

  “I will veil you from them,” Mara said, turning around to work her magic, creating an illusion to mask what they were really doing.

  Corbin took several tumultuous breaths and began to work his Light on Ailwen. “Please, brother, please heal,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

  There was a long pause as Corbin forced his energy into his oldest friend, the brother he’d spent his childhood with. “You must not die on me, Ailwen.”

  Corbin felt his whole body warm and then Ailwen’s eyes fluttered open and he coughed out a plume of dust. He tried to catch his breath, but each heave caused a new round of gagging. Corbin turned him over while he spat out blood then held him up.

  “Can you hear me, brother?”

  Ailwen groaned, his skin finally turning from red to pale white. “Yes,” he said as he coughed.

  Barrett pushed Corbin aside to examine his son. “You’re alive.”

  Annora was quick to join them, putting her arms around Ailwen as though he would blow away if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

  Mara stood facing the onlookers, and when she turned back to Corbin, the crowd erupted in cheers. “They’ve just seen you pull your friend from the rubble. You’re a hero again.” She smiled.

  Corbin took her hand and walked down to the grassy plain. Ebrill was waiting for them. “You’ve saved the day, my boy. What are your names, the two of you?”

  “I am Mara Black, and this is Corbin.”

  Ebrill seemed stunned that a woman would answer a man’s question. “Where do you hail from?” This time the question was firmly directed at Corbin. The old man twisted his hands with curiosity.

  “I was born in Gododdin,” Corbin said, “but I’ve been a wanderer all my life.”

  “Corbin of Gododdin,” Ebrill said.

  Corbin shook his head. “I lay no claim to the place of my birth. As I’ve said, I’ve been on my feet all my life.”

  “I see,” Ebrill said, stroking his chin. “Well, you hail from the North. If you won’t claim your land, at least claim the direction from which you came, Corbin North.”

  Corbin looked at Mara and nodded at Ebrill, who seemed quite pleased with himself for having named a man. “Very well,” Corbin said.

  Ebrill smiled. “Well, son, if you’re ever in need of a wife, I have two more daughters of almost marrying age.” Ebrill shot a hard gla
re at his new son-in-law, who hung back like a stubborn mule.

  Corbin smiled and put a hand around Mara. “My heart is already taken, my lord, but I do suggest you find yourself another son for your clan. I fear the one you’ve chosen will disappoint. A blind man could see it.”

  Ebrill sneered with a nod. “I fear you’re right about that. But let me tell you something.” He set a quick glance at Mara and continued in a whisper, “Love ruins a man, drains his heart. Only heirs will sustain him. You can mark my words on that.”

  Corbin felt Mara tense. He gave her a gentle look. Ebrill was an old man who had no idea he was standing before a queen.

  Ebrill shot another rueful stare at Padrig and sighed. “Well, Corbin of the North, if you ever have a change of mind, or if you’re looking for a place to settle, you will always be welcome in Silver River.”

  “I am grateful,” Corbin said. He turned back as Barrett and Gareth helped Ailwen onto his horse. “My friends and I must be going now. Our people are waiting for us and will be worried that we haven’t yet returned.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ebrill said, stepping aside for the group.

  Mara leaned on Corbin’s arm. “Turning down the offer of a kingdom and a fresh young maid?” she teased.

  “Why would I need a kingdom when I have someone who already makes me a king?” He kissed her head.

  As they passed Padrig and his men, Padrig glared. Mara stopped in front of him as brave and defiant as any man would. Corbin saw the glow of green in her eyes. She put a hand on Padrig’s arm, preparing to glamour him with her Light.

  “You are very much in love with your new bride. In fact, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been. You have great respect for your new father-in-law and will use all of your resources to help him secure the mine and protect this territory. You are honored to be here, and will treat your station as an honor.” Mara let go of his arm.

  Padrig looked at her wide-eyed and nodded. “I am happy,” he said as a smile crossed his thin lips. “Thank you for your well-wishes. Please come back and see us soon.”

  “We will be sure to,” Mara said with a smile and continued on her way.

  Ailwen rode his horse easily and chattered as they crossed the bridge out of the village. Corbin’s healing Light had done its job.

  When they were alone on the road, Corbin finally let the sense of relief wash over him. He reached for Mara’s hand and noticed her skin was cold, her expression grim. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Ailwen almost died, Corbin.”

  “We wouldn’t have let him die, Mara.”

  She stopped and looked at him. “We may have the power of gods, but we don’t have control over which mortals live and die. Sometimes it’s out of our hands, and you know it.”

  Corbin nodded and cast his eyes down. Even his power to heal wasn’t always guaranteed to save a life.

  Mara shook her head. “No more waiting, Corbin. I will tell Drake when we get back that I’m giving the others the gift of Light—all of them. They will be Dia and their lives will be protected. I refuse to wait any longer.” There was unwavering determination in her voice.

  “I agree with you,” Corbin said. “There’s no reason to wait any longer.”

  Malcolm and Wynn approached the low wooden fence around the hamlet. The small settlement consisted of several stone roundhouses with thatched roofs scattered around a much larger rectangular wood and stone house. Malcolm saw no movement within the palisade and none of the torches were lit. He turned to Wynn. “Where are the horses?”

  Wynn pointed to the large house. “Behind the main house. Their storage hut is there as well.”

  Malcolm scanned the darkness once more, grumbling in irritation and wishing he still had his Dia senses to hear within the huts. “Are you sure there is no one guarding it?”

  Wynn nodded. “All were asleep when I came for the food.”

  Malcolm looked along the fence to the gate. “You go over there and wait for me. When you see me coming with the horse, open the gate.”

  Wynn turned to head towards the gate, but stopped and looked back at Malcolm. “Remember your promise to take me with you.”

  Malcolm nodded and followed the fence to the side of the hamlet that faced the trees, climbed over it, and paused when his feet hit the ground. He crouched down in the long grass, listening. When he was sure no one heard him, he crept towards the big hut and ducked behind it. Several horses were tied to a post. Next to the horses was a small storage hut, just where Wynn said it would be. Malcolm slinked to the door, lifted the latch, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  The hut was nearly black inside, but once his eyes adjusted, he found stores of clay pots and bags of grain. Malcolm lifted the lid of one of the pots and found it was filled to the brim with dried peas. He grabbed an empty grain sack from the ground and began to scoop handfuls of peas into it. He opened another pot that was filled with dried fish packed in salt. He put the fish into his sack and looked around when he saw a shelf stocked with millet bread. He grinned and took several loafs and a round of cheese for his journey. His stomach rumbled amidst all the food, but there was no time to eat. He spun around, looking for anything else he could carry when his eyes landed on a barrel hidden in the corner. He walked over and lifted the lid. It was filled with a mead so strong it almost burned his nostrils. Malcolm dipped his water sack in to the intoxicating mixture until it was full.

  When he’d taken as much as he could, he stole out of the hut into the night and moved towards the horses. They shifted nervously as he approached. He held out his hands. “Shhh,” he soothed as he untied a brown palfrey mare from the post. “No need to worry,” he whispered, coaxing the horse through the huts towards the fence.

  Wynn was already at the gate. Malcolm still debated whether or not he should take the child with him. If the boy could take care of himself, what did it matter? Perhaps he could be of some use.

  Wynn pulled back on the gate. “Did you find everything we need?” he asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  Malcolm held up the bag and handed it to him. “Let’s get out of here before they realize we’ve taken a horse.”

  Wynn nodded and held the gate open while Malcolm led the horse out. He climbed onto the horse’s back and lifted Wynn up behind him. With a click of his tongue, Malcolm urged the horse to move, but just as it took a step forward, he felt a chill run up his spine. A faint hiss on the wind caught his ear and before Malcolm knew what was happening, an arrow skimmed by his shoulder, taking a sliver of flesh with it.

  The horse jerked back and both he and Wynn fell the ground.

  Malcolm tried to push himself up. Another arrow cut through the air and landed in the dirt only inches from his hand. He jumped back and froze, watching with horror as a group of men emerged from the trees. Malcolm pulled out his sword and forced himself to his feet.

  “Who thinks they can steal from Bram?” came a booming voice.

  Wynn shrunk behind Malcolm.

  “We want no quarrel here,” Malcolm said. “We will leave what we’ve taken and be on our way.”

  The man laughed. Two equally large men with torches came up behind him, and as they got closer, Malcolm gasped when he saw the bearded face from Valenia beach, the slave trader. Quickly, Malcolm tucked the stolen sword behind his back, but not before the bearded warrior saw it.

  “I see you’ve taken more than my horse.” He held an axe in his hand and his face hardened in a glare that Malcolm couldn’t shrink back from. This warrior was more than a head taller than Malcolm’s six-foot frame, and his group of men had them surrounded. The huge warrior stepped closer and Malcolm brought the sword forward.

  “I know how to use this,” Malcolm warned. “Let me go and no one gets hurt.”

  This made all the men double over with laughter.

  “The pissing dog thinks he can bargain?” The large warrior tilted his head when Wynn peeked out from behind Malcolm.

  “Wynn
? Is that you, you little vermin? Damn it, boy, get over here at once!”

  Malcolm’s eyes widened as Wynn ran over to the man.

  “Trying to take my son as well, I see?” said the warrior.

  Malcolm’s heart must have stopped beating in that moment, but before he had time to run, two of the men stepped from behind the large warrior. One grabbed Malcolm’s arm and the other struck Malcolm in the side of the head with the handle of his axe.

  Malcolm found himself once again trapped like a caged bird. Only this time he was in a large hut, held in a wooden cage not large enough for him to stand.

  The wound where the arrow had entered was now bandaged up, but the pain of it persisted. He’d woken early in the morning, when the sun had just begun to seep through the shuttered windows, only to find himself a prisoner.

  He’d been alone for most of the day, and even with his best efforts—the cage was strong—the wound in his shoulder mired his strength. He hadn’t seen Wynn or Wynn’s warrior father since his capture, but if he could get his hands on the boy, that scheming little rat would regret tricking him.

  Malcolm was shocked he was even still alive. He was sure Bram should have killed him on the spot. But then the terrible thought struck him that perhaps the warrior had other plans. Malcolm shivered. He certainly feared torture. He’d never felt such pain when he was a Dia, and now that he was commanding Eli’s body, he also had two deaths to fear.

  The day passed in a haze as he slipped out of consciousness. When he finally awoke, he found a woman placing a bowl of water outside the enclosure. Malcolm sat up with a throat made of sand and grabbed for the bowl, drinking it so fast most of it ended up on the front of his tunic.

  The woman watched.

  “Thank you,” he said, wiping his chin.

  She gave him a nod without a word.

  A cold breeze brushed past Malcolm’s cheek and he instantly knew what it was. Expectantly, he watched as the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head, showing only the whites, and when they opened, they’d changed to a pale gray.