Pursuit
Book 2 of Riftkeepers
Carrie Whitethorne
Copyright (C) 2017 Carrie Whitethorne
Layout design and Copyright (C) 2017 by Creativia
Published 2017 by Creativia
Cover art by
http://www.thecovercollection.com/
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Table of Contents
Cumbria
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
About the Author
Cumbria
Free, only to die.
Her head spun, her first breath of fresh air in centuries catching her off guard, making her cough and retch. Steadying herself, she tilted her chin and squared her shoulders, eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight.
If I'm to die like the others, I'll do so with my head held high. I am Meg of Meldon, I have risen the dead, I will not show fear.
She searched for her power, anything she could use to defend herself. She found nothing.
Years in that shell have weakened me!
A breeze shifted her knee length, chestnut hair, exposing a breast. His lips twitched and she shuddered. Maintaining her own steady gaze, she gave no indication of the growing fear that threatened to overtake her. To look away, to look at her daughters where they lay smoldering on the hard ground, would unleash her carefully masked rage, spelling her own swift end.
Preservation.
His eyes narrowed as they traveled down her body. Relaxing her features, she forced a small, placid smile. “Thank you, Warlock. How may I serve you?” She said in a honeyed voice.
He cocked his head and looked her over again. His eyes settled on her own and he replied, softly, “That all depends on whether you want to live or die, Meg.”
Her insides twisted. She hadn't heard that name in thousands of years.
Do I wish to live? I have tasted eternity in that disgusting sandstone prison. Can I face that again without my girls?
Another, stronger breeze disturbed her hair, laying her entire body bare before him. His eyes flashed, betraying him.
Humans. So, fickle.
“I would happily live, to serve you, to repay your kindness in freeing me.” She maintained a sweet, silky tone, as she asked, “What is it you require of me?”
He grinned, watching her intently. “I have a fairy problem.”
Instinctively her lips twisted at the mention of them and she snarled, “Taran.” Hate replaced the fear she had felt moments before. Hate so fierce it choked her.
He huffed a laugh through his nose as he stepped closer to her. “Not only him. His son, has something that belongs to me. Would you help me get it back?” he asked, running a finger along the curve of her exposed breast.
Her amber eyes shone. Nothing would give her greater pleasure than to see him destroyed, to see all of them fall. One for every year she'd spent locked within that hateful rock.
“There's just the small matter of whatever power you have lurking in here,” he crooned, gripping her chin. “I'll be needing that.”
Mortality. A mortal life. To live and die and be done with this wretched place.
Taking Taran with me…
A faint smile tugged at her lips as her head jerked up, “Work gently, warlock. The fire destroys, shadow can coax, tease and torment. Luring powers from their hiding places does not require you to do harm.” She tilted her head into his palm and let out a long breath. “Power is easily taken, if you only work gently.”
She felt the cold, tingling reach of his power stroking her scalp and closed her eyes. Her power was deep, deep within her and she willed it to go to him, begged it to pass to him.
Leave me.
Hot and wild her magic clawed its way towards the icy grip of his power on her mind. It sought him, raced him, sensing his power and would bind itself to him.
Her lips parted slightly and she let out a quiet sigh as she felt her power drain.
As the transfer of power completed, he shuddered, his eyes flashing red.
“You're a very clever girl,” he murmured, releasing her. “Here.” He dropped an open rucksack at her feet. “Cover yourself. I need to tidy up this mess.”
She rifled through the bag, pulling a sweater over her head and jogging pants over her lower half and looked up. Her eyes settled on a body laid prone on the ground.
Dinah.
Tears stung her eyes as she took in the blackened body. The unmistakable golden hair of her youngest daughter spread across the ground.
Only sixteen years old when the Druid imprisoned us. Her powers were just developing. She had been such a sweet child.
Her once vibrant, happy eyes held hers. Cold. Vacant.
She looked away, realizing the mistake a moment too late as her eyes settled on another.
Maya.
Her first born. Almost identical to herself. Long, dark brown hair lay in loose curls obscuring her face. Her pale skin marred by dark lines, mottled and bruised from unseen, internal trauma. The rancid smell of burning flesh filled the air. Its cloying stench so thick she could taste it.
I can't stay here.
She schooled her features into the placid mask she had worn previously before he had time to turn and look at her again, and snapped, “Leave them.”
Turning to her, he cocked his head, questioning. “Surely you'd like them to be burned?”
“They deserve their fate. They were given the chance to join you and declined. Leave them.”
You're all worth so much more, I'm sorry.
“The fairies will find them,” he sang. The tone irked her but she remained outwardly impassive.
“Then let the fairies deal with them,” she shrugged.
“I like you very much already, Meg,” he drawled, picking up the bag and swinging it over a shoulder. “Let's get you home, shall we?”
The primal look in his eyes turned her stomach, drawing strength from her pain and anger she grinned and took his arm.
If this is the price I must pay for our revenge, so be it. I've endured far worse.
Chapter 1
The low murmurs reverberated around the chamber mixing with the click and shuffle of shoes on the marble floors. Hands flat on the ash table, Charlotte closed her eyes and took a breath. The musky scent of the wood and the almond tang in the air from the walls of old books took her back to the first time she'd sat here. Back just a few short months to when her only
concern was the new-found talents of her children. She could feel their eyes on her, could sense their questions, knew their judgment wasn't far behind. She didn't look up as they took their seats, didn't want to open her eyes and re-live the horrific events of the month before.
Callan brushed a finger along the edge of hers.
“Lottie?” Dane murmured in her ear. “You're going to be fine, we've got you.”
“I know. I'm okay.” She kept her head down. Callan took her hand.
The voices died down as someone tapped a glass. She glanced up, beneath the hood of her brow.
“Thank you all for attending at such short notice,” Taran's voice carried around the chamber.
They'd only called the meeting two days before, it had been decided that they would have the wedding celebrations without this hanging over them.
“As you were informed, there have been several developments regarding our rogue warlock, all of which need our closer attention. I assume everyone here is aware of the kidnap and ill treatment of Princess Charlotte?”
“Lady Charlotte.” A voice corrected.
Callan tensed. Glancing his way, she saw a muscle tick along his jaw.
“Ah, yes. Given the events, during a private ceremony five days ago, Prince Callan and Lady Charlotte were married. It was their preference to have a small, intimate, ceremony.”
A cacophony of murmurs erupted around the table.
“May I be the first to congratulate you both, Prince Callan? Princess Charlotte?” Dane stood and raised a glass of water. He scanned the table.
The other lords around the table followed, then took their seats quietly.
Callan nodded and smiled but remained tense.
“It has become apparent that the warlock in question has grown in power considerably since our last meeting. Having successfully kidnapped, hidden and tortured one of us, without detection, for over a week. He has proven to be something of a threat. Dane?” Taran handed over for a more in depth explanation.
“Thank you,” he stood, bowed slightly to Taran and appraised the room. “The King is correct. Not only did this warlock kidnap and torture the Princess, he almost took her life using a crude form of shadow-fire.”
Gasps sounded around the room, not only from the lords but the guards and staff.
He didn't give time for mutterings to begin. “Thankfully, I detected him and recovered the Princess from his hiding place. Unfortunately, we lost track of him afterwards. I have taken the liberty of bringing in two of my colleagues from Houska to assist in the hunt since they can detect his magic as well as I. Prince Dagda is heading the search, they will work very closely with him over the coming weeks and months.” He paused, his silver eyes fixed on one Fae lord.
Why the formality. They didn't stress titles last time.
He hadn't spoken. “Yes Byron?” Dane cocked his head.
The lord stood, slowly, and cleared his throat. His eyes settled on Charlotte. “Why would this warlock take Lady… Princess Charlotte?”
Dane glanced to Callan, then nodded to Charlotte.
“Because she holds the power he desires,” he answered simply.
“I'm sorry, are you suggesting…?”
“No, I am not suggesting, Byron. Princess Charlotte is naturally gifted with shadow-fire.”
Before anyone could react, he held up a hand. “May I remind you that Princess Charlotte is a member of our royal family. Any threat, made or implied, will be considered treason and is punishable by our laws.” He remained standing, a challenge, waiting for Byron to respond.
“Of course, Prince Dane,” he lowered his eyes and took his seat.
Callan rose, releasing his hold on Charlotte's hand. Dane bowed and took his seat. Leaning over he murmured, “There we go, sorted.”
“Prince? You conveniently forgot to mention that,” she whispered.
He didn't respond, he simply nodded toward Callan.
“Thank you. I have, along with Prince Dane, taken on the task of training Princess Charlotte to control and use her power safely. I must stress that this is not the main issue at hand. It is simply a complication. Our most pressing concern is the power this warlock holds and how rapidly it is growing.”.
“Forgive me, Prince Callan.” An older Fae stood, he was very similar in appearance to Taran, but looked older. His amber eyes flicked her way before he spoke. “Princess Charlotte is the daughter of the Warlock. She has recently spent time in his company, could it be possible there was opportunity for him to enslave her in some way? How can you guarantee the safety of our people following a period of unchecked contact and influence?”
Dane stood and cleared his throat. “I, personally, pulled the lifeless body of Princess Charlotte from the derelict cottage he held her in. I healed her as best I could. Following that she was unconscious for twelve hours, during which time I took the opportunity to search her mind for any indication of tampering or enslavement. I cleansed her shadow-fire ravaged body and found nothing but a broken woman clinging to life. I assure you, all she is to us is an ally and a friend.”
“We have only your word,” he countered.
“Is my word not enough?”
There was something in his tone, a silent threat that made her shudder, that intensified the tension in the room.
Taran interrupted. “No, we do not have only his word, Arthur.” He looked to a guard. “Would you escort Princess Alayna, please?”
The doors at the rear of the chamber swung open, the click of heels the only sound in the hushed room. Her long, blonde hair bounced as she strode to her father's side. Taran kissed her cheek, murmured something in her ear and stepped away, giving up his place at the table.
Charlotte looked at Dane, then to Callan, grasping his hand.
Dane sat down, shaking his head. Alayna didn't look his way.
“Thank you, my Lords. I have come to support Prince Dane's statement. I, too, was present when Princess Charlotte was found. I…” She faltered as murmurs sprang up around the table. Taran placed a hand on her shoulder and she strengthened her voice. “I had spent the evening with Prince Dane when he detected the Warlock and his use of shadow-fire.”
She gazed around the table, daring anyone to challenge her. The murmurs died down and she continued. “Dane brought her directly to me and I healed the internal damage to her body. She had suffered broken ribs, a broken nose, dehydration, starvation and her heart was under immense pressure given the fire damage to her body. She also had a severe chest infection. She was dying.” Keeping her head up, she choked back the emotion in her voice. “I was present for her first ten hours. I obtained blood and medication, oversaw a transfusion and returned to my family here. The rest of her care was delivered by Dane. I witnessed his thorough search of her mind and can assure you all that there are no concerns regarding her safety among us. She is under no-one's influence but her own.” Her shoulders sagged as she completed her statement.
“Is that what you needed, Art?” Taran asked, curtly.
“Yes, thank you.”
The older Fae bowed his head and fell silent.
“Are there any more questions regarding my wife?” Callan demanded from the room.
He was met with a silence that was broken by the click of Alayna's heels as she left the chamber.
Taran took his place at the table. “You all fear something you've never seen, a person you do not know. Charlotte is not the threat. She, and her children, are our best chance against this lunatic. She needs the support of her people,” he said, looking to each of the council members in turn. “Does she, have it?”
Charlotte looked around the table, each council member gave a brief nod.
“Very well,” Taran growled. “To summarise. Princess Charlotte has been safely returned to us by Prince Dane following a horrific kidnap, Prince Callan and Princess Charlotte are now happily married, Prince Dagda is hunting down the warlock with aid from Houska. Princes Dane and Callan are training the Princess. Are there an
y more questions?” Taran gave the table a sweeping glance.
When there was no response he called an end to the meeting and scheduled another for a weeks' time.
I hope I don't have to attend that one.
Dane removed his tie and slouched in his chair, blowing out a tense breath.
“Dane?” Charlotte whispered. “Taran's coming over. Sit up.”
Dane began to explain, “Taran…”
“We've known for decades,” Dagda laughed, cutting him off.
Dane gave him a quizzical look and relaxed as Taran clapped him on the shoulder. “You did well. When do your friends arrive from Houska?”
“They're already staying at my house in Oxfordshire. Our most skilled warriors, Klara, and my half-brother, Lukas,” he didn't sound pleased. “My father thinks Lukas needs the experience.”
“He'll be fine,” Dagda assured him. “We have a solid team. If you aren't sure we can have him work alongside Blair. Is Anton accompanying him?”
Dane nodded and looked to Callan. “Have you picked a location?”
“We'll just stick with the cairn. The earth is already turned over with Zander's work, there's a water source and it's open. Does that sound okay, Charlotte?”
Not expecting to be included in the conversation she didn't have an answer prepared. “Erm… yeah. Whatever you think,” she said quietly, as she looked down and picked at her nails.
She looked up as Dagda said, “I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do.” Then winked, grinning at her.
She frowned and sighed through her nose.
“Charlotte, we know you're nervous but if you can master the shadow-fire you can help rid us of your father.”
“I know, Taran. Knowing how everyone here fears it, I really don't like using it. I don't want you all to…”
“We don't. How could we? Once you've gotten used to wielding it you'll feel better about it,” Callan assured her. “We're going to do this together, all of us, as a family.” He looked to Dane.
“Erm. yeah. We'll go up there this afternoon and get started. Get your confidence up.”
“Good,” Taran nodded, “I'll collect the children at one. Dagda, can you arrange a meeting with the druids please? Every shape shifter. I'll ask Houska for assistance.”
Riftkeepers: Pursuit Page 1