Rising Fire

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “When can we do this? When can we try?” William asked. Roger remained silent, a suspicious glint in his eyes.

  “First I must prepare the others. I think we must do this to protect everyone. If Hugh thinks he can learn our plans in this way, he will continue to take and torture—” He stopped as the huge guard stepped forward. He was the one who’d tortured Corann.

  “He will. He is,” he said, confirming Marcus’s fears. “He will.”

  “Then we must do this quickly. If he can learn nothing from Devyn, then he may . . . ” The man shook his head, extinguishing any hope of rescuing the man he’d raised from a boy.

  “I will summon them,” Aislinn said, walking away. The man trailed not far behind her.

  “It will take some time, Will,” Marcus said. “We will call you when it is done.”

  “What do we need to do for this? Is there some way to prepare?” Roger asked.

  “Nay. Nothing. Just be willing when we try, my friend.”

  Marcus went to where the priests would gather and explained the situation. Much discussion and disagreement followed, but Marcus wanted everyone to have their chance to speak when coming to a decision among their community. For most of them, it would be the first time without a connection to the others, and it made everyone uneasy.

  The ritual took time, and Marcus was exhausted when they completed it. And alone. It was very strange not to feel the others with him. Not to feel Aislinn there. And from her pale face, she was experiencing the same thing.

  And Devyn would suddenly be alone in the clutches of the evil one’s sycophant. Offering up prayers for a merciful death for a true follower, Marcus sought his sacrificial knife for the next ritual.

  He called William, Brienne, Aislinn, and Roger together, and they sought out a private place in the forest to carry this out. Roger’s face went gray and green when he noticed Marcus’s blade, but he did not explain until they reached a place where he’d discovered several rowan trees growing. The tree, sacred to the gods, would add potent magic to his spell.

  He sat on the ground and invited them each to sit in a particular place—priest, fireblood, human, priest, warblood—and then he prayed over the dagger. Then he held his hand out and asked for Roger’s.

  “What are you going to do with that?” William’s man asked, not offering his arm.

  “You carry no mark. I must make one before we can perform the ritual that will connect us to one another.” Roger glared at him through narrowed eyes and then held out his arm.

  Marcus leaned into the circle between them and took hold of Roger’s hand. “Hold on to mine.”

  With practiced strokes, he cut into Roger’s forearm, slicing deep into the skin, forming the same shape that he and the other priests, save Aislinn, bore—the stick figure of a man. His blood flowed onto the ground as Marcus chanted the words to sanctify the mark. Then he turned to Brienne.

  “Burn it.”

  “What?” both Roger and Brienne said at the same time.

  “It must be burned. It must be a brand, not cuts of a dagger that can heal. Purify it with your fire.”

  He watched as she struggled with the act of burning another human with her powers. He had no doubt she’d seen her father use his powers to hurt and maim, but it was not in her nature and never would be. He did not doubt that she would be called on to use it as a weapon in the days ahead of them.

  “Go ahead,” Roger said, grasping Marcus’s arm tightly. “If it must be done, do it now.”

  He saw William nod at her, and then she looked to him. At his nod, the sliced flesh began to sizzle and burn. Each cut he’d made searing itself to the others until the skin branded and sealed. Roger hissed and clenched his jaws closed, but otherwise said nothing.

  And then it was done and he released Roger’s arm.

  “I am sorry, Roger,” Brienne said. Tears filled her eyes as she looked over at her husband.

  “We all have our duties, Brienne. I’ve had much worse than this in skirmishes and practice,” Roger said.

  “Now we can do the rest.” Marcus stood up. “We must connect our flesh in order to connect our minds. Like this.” He showed them how to cover and clasp the person’s mark with their opposite hand, creating a circle.

  He and Aislinn began weaving the spell, teaching the others the words to chant as the connection between them wove threads between their thoughts even as their flesh touched. It took some time, more than it would have taken with priests, but he repeated it over and over until he could hear their voices in his thoughts.

  Some time passed—he knew not how long—until suddenly he became aware again of the wind and the sun and the others around him. Glancing at each person, he spoke their names in his thoughts.

  As they nodded in reply, Marcus offered a prayer of thanks to the gods for allowing this.

  Aislinn? William spoke first. Can you share the prophecies you’ve received with us now? He glanced at Roger and Brienne.

  Aislinn looked to Marcus for permission, for this was something else forbidden for anyone but priests.

  Tell them, Marcus said.

  “When the threat is revealed and the sleepers awaken, a Warrior seeks the truth while the Fire burns away the deception. Begin in the East, then North, then South, then West . . . Find the true gate among the rest.”

  He watched Brienne’s eyes widen at the mention of the warrior and the fire. And now that they had the location of the first circle, north and south and west made sense. Scotland, Orkney, England, and Ireland. The path their journey would take to stop the evil one. The reverse journey of their Celtic ancestors in coming here and building these places.

  And the next one?

  “While those of the blood advance and the lost lose their way, Water and Storm protect the Hidden. The Hidden reveals its secrets only to those who struggle with their faith.”

  And Hugh will know that one? Devyn will tell him?

  Aislinn and Marcus both nodded in reply. The young man would give up the words.

  “Then we should begin now,” William the warblood, their leader, said.

  Within hours, they were on their way to the northern coast of Scotland and then on to the Norse lands of Orkney.

  Epilogue

  Eudes looked very, very worried. He had not the finer skills of Brisbois in prolonging life even while prolonging the anguish. How three brothers could be so different, Hugh did not understand, and it mattered not now.

  “Is he dead, then?” he asked.

  “Aye, my lord. Just now.”

  The burned and beaten body lay before him in the dirt. At least he’d given up the words that the powerful priest had received in prophecy before dying.

  “And he said what else?”

  “He just kept blabbering at the end, out of his mind, my lord.”

  “What. Did. He. Say?” he repeated slowly. “The exact words, Eudes. Now, before you take his place there.” Hugh pointed at the tree where they’d chained the priest.

  “He said—it is empty. It is empty. They are gone. Over and over. Makes no sense, my lord,” Eudes said.

  Hugh screamed out his frustration then, and all of his men tried to be or look someplace else other than where they were. He understood it.

  The damned priests had figured out a way to sever their connections with this one. Probably between all of them. They had to know it would mean this one’s death. He shrugged, looking at the body. It was unexpected for them to be that ruthless. With a thought he finished the task begun earlier and burned the man to ashes.

  Turning back to his commander, he gave new orders.

  “Orkney. We head to Orkney.”

  “Very well, my lord.” Eudes bowed and left him alone.

  While those of the blood advance and the lost lose their way, Water and Storm protect the Hidden. The Hidden reveals its sec
rets only to those who struggle with their faith.

  He would need to find the waterblood and the stormblood, and the wild, windblown isles to the north somehow seemed an appropriate place to find them.

  Another chance to free his goddess and to destroy those who’d betrayed him. He would make them all pay for that.

  Read on for a sneak peek at the next Novel of the Stone Circles, by Terri Brisbin

  RAGING SEA

  Coming in October 2015 from Signet Eclipse.

  Spring, AD 1286

  Kirkwall, Orkney

  Soren Thorsson walked through the marketplace, greeting the merchants and nodding to the vendors selling their wares. Kirkwall was a blending place, filled with people from all parts of the north and beyond. The Norse, Scots, French, and English all used Kirkwall, as it was now called, and Orkney for replenishing supplies, and they stocked their ships there for travel while trading goods.

  But something this day was different.

  As he walked the streets that morning, Soren noticed a change in the air around him. In the colors of the fabrics offered in the weavers’ tents. In the faces of the villagers. The brightness and hues had been leached from the world in which he lived.

  The realization stopped him between paces.

  He glanced around to see if something had thickened above him and had blocked the sun. The clear, cloudless blue skies answered him. What was happening?

  And then she walked out from one of the alleys.

  Ran Sveinsdottir.

  The woman he’d loved.

  The woman he’d betrayed.

  Soren stepped back into the shadows and watched her. Tall and svelte, she moved with the same easy grace on land that she had on her father’s ships. Her blond curls tamed into several small plaits framing her face and one larger unruly braid. ’Twas a hopeless attempt to control the uncontrollable, and the longer woven tresses lay down her back and swung in time with every step she took. His body recognized hers; his mouth remembered the taste of hers, and his hands itched to glide over those curves and touch every inch of her.

  He shuddered and released the breath he did not know he’d been holding, continuing to watch her make her way through the crowded street. Without deciding the matter, he started to follow her, drinking in the sight of her, of her every smile and glance and movement. She bestowed her smile on many as she greeted the merchants and tradesmen along the street.

  Ran was the one woman he’d loved and the one he could never have. It had been two years since he last saw her and yet—

  His vision flickered then, and he realized that she was surrounded by color and light. They were missing in everyone else around them and were vibrant and almost alive in her. Turquoise—the color of the seas—surrounded her body, glowing and glimmering. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, for what he saw was simply not possible.

  When that made no difference, Soren dragged the sleeve of his tunic across his eyes, but the sight did not change. Her blond hair was still bright and golden, her skin still glowed, and her eyes shimmered. He hissed in pain, unsure of what was happening, as his forearm began to burn.

  Lifting his hand, he tugged his sleeve back and watched as the skin underneath grew red and an outline of a bolt of lightning became visible. It changed as he watched, growing brighter and clearer in shape. And it burned as it did. Covering it with his other hand, he glanced around to see if anyone else noticed his odd behavior.

  Those seeking goods or food did not spare him a second glance. Those selling their wares did not either. Everyone else walked around him, ignorant or uncaring about this significant change in their world. As he looked around the area, Soren realized that Ran had the same bewildered expression on her face that his must have been wearing. She clutched at her arm, touching the same place on her forearm that yet burned on his.

  He’d taken three steps out of the shadows and onto the street toward her when he finally pulled himself back and stopped. As much as he wanted to understand what was going on, he knew she would not welcome his approach. Or his questions.

  Two years. Two years and much more than time separated them.

  Since he knew her father would remain in Orkney while his ships and boats were preparing for the sailing months ahead, Soren knew she was not going anywhere. If this strangeness somehow involved her, he knew where he could find her.

  He would always know where to find her. Now though, he turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Though he stood in the shadows between the merchants selling their wool and other fabrics, she would recognize him anywhere. Taller than her brother and her father, Soren towered over most men she knew. The years of working the fields and ships had built muscle and strength in his body, and she could not help but notice that he looked even larger now. Her traitorous body responded to the memories of their times together. The feel of his skin on hers. His strong hands moving over her and bringing her to pleasure. Relentlessly. As he did everything.

  Could it be the mere sight of him that was causing this eerie feeling within her? The strange buzzing that filled her ears and dimmed her vision? Moments ago, all the colors of the world had disappeared and everyone looked like a pale, drab version of themselves.

  Except Soren.

  He had changed and not just by looking stronger and healthier. His skin gave off a silver-gray glow that outlined his body to her. As she watched this happening to him, her arm began to burn. Clapping her hand over it, she lifted her gaze and met his in that moment.

  In that second, everything and everyone around them disappeared, leaving only the two of them. Time slowed, and she gazed at the man to whom she’d given her heart, body, and soul. Their life together had been laid ahead of them, shining like a jewel and holding the promise of happiness. That hope had crumbled in an instant, when he had betrayed her faith in him.

  Now though, all that passed by in the blink of an eye, and she found herself staring at Soren as her arm burned fiercely. And, realizing that his action mirrored her own, she waited for his acknowledgment. Instead, he did again as he’d done before—he turned and walked away.

  The bright, shimmering color of molten silver continued to swirl around him as he made his way along the street and away from her. Her heart, the one she’d sworn would never be hurt again, pounded in her chest, reminding her of the weakness of her will when it came to Soren Thorsson.

  Her arm felt as though it was on fire, so she tugged her sleeve up to look at it. Her skin seemed to burn, reddened with heat and changing as she watched. A shape formed and smoothed away, only to form again. Two wavy lines etched into her then, undulating and moving as waves or currents did through water. For a moment, she believed them real. Then the burning began anew and the markings grew deeper and longer across her forearm.

  What was going on? First the strange change to her vision and hearing. Then the alterations to the world’s coloring—and Soren’s. And last, this marking on her skin and, from his reaction, on his, too.

  With more questions than answers, she wished there was someone she could ask. Someone who could counsel her and help her discover the truth of these events.

  And she wished with all her heart that it was someone other than the man who had betrayed his every vow and his own words.

  For two years had not been enough for her heart to heal. Ran had thought that distance and time would lessen the pain, but it had only taken one glimpse of Soren to show her how wrong she could be. How wrong she always seemed to be when it came to that man and her choices.

  As Soren turned and walked off toward the edge of town, Ran knew one thing—she had lied to herself about her feelings for Soren. And the only way she would save her soul and her sanity was to keep away from him.

  So that was what she would do.

  Stay away from Soren Thorsson.

  About the Author
<
br />   In her previous lives, USA Today bestselling author Terri Brisbin has lived in ancient Egypt and medieval Scotland. In this one, she’s stuck in the wilds of southern New Jersey with a hubby (a wonderful one!) and kids (three adorable and finally grown sons!). When not living the life of a glamorous romance author or suffering through deadline binges-o’-writing mania, she spends some of her time as a dental hygienist.

  Terri’s had more than thirty-four historical and paranormal romance novels, novellas, and short stories published in more than twenty-five languages in more than twenty countries! And there are a bunch more swirling around inside her brain just waiting to be written. You can find out more than you need to know about Terri or subscribe to her newsletter on her Web site, her Facebook profile, or her Facebook page.

  CONNECT ONLINE

  terribrisbin.com

  facebook.com/terribrisbin

  facebook.com/pages/terribrisbinauthor

  Looking for more?

  Visit Penguin.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.

  Discover your next great read!