The Mirror Sliver (Legends of Green Isle Book 2)

by Constance Wallace

  “I think we’re almost there,” Zuya stated. “The wind is telling me we need to hurry. They’re in danger.”

  “Who’s in danger?” Urcias asked.

  “Those we’re following, sir. He’s sent others to attack them.”

  “Uthal sent his henchmen to attack the group?”

  “Yes. They’re heading down into the temple.”

  “This is rather confusing,” Rufus declared. “How did a temple suddenly make an appearance in all this?”

  “Temple? Explain, Zuya,” Urcias demanded. “Tell us what you’re talking about. Or rather, what the wind’s talking about. We all don’t have private conversations with her.”

  “There’s a pyramid at the top. A temple of the old ones,” Zuya replied. He pointed upwards. “The wind said the dragon and the others went inside. Just before a pack of oversized rats followed.”

  “Fir Darrigs,” Ditred said in disgust. He shook his head. “Met one of them a long time ago. And it bit off my friend’s hand. They don’t play nice.”

  The captain saw Ortho make a face and then pinch his fingers together like he was pinching something off.

  “I believe Ortho wants to have a little fun with one. Make it his pet,” Christos said. He chuckled and moved closer to Matt.

  The captain shook his head. “I knew it was only a matter of time before we began seeing some of the witch’s horde.”

  Christos motioned with his head toward the boy. He knew from the man’s face what he was quietly saying. Something troubled Urcias about Matt too, but he couldn’t put what he felt into words. Every action of the boy was strange and unfamiliar. This didn’t appear to be the same individual he met back at the outpost in the Great Pine Forest. None of the other men seemed to notice that he wasn’t limping any more. Urcias was glad of that. It would have been difficult dealing with the pace of their climb along with the suspiciousness for the boy.

  “Perhaps we should go back and take the other fork in the road,” Matt exclaimed suddenly.

  All faces turned toward the young man in disbelief. Papella was the first to speak. “And do what? We’ve come this far. Why turn around? Aren’t ya worried about yer companions? Don’cha want to catch up with them?”

  “Yesssss. I’m worried. I only consssssidered it because of the rat men,” the boy stammered.

  “No. We push on. Especially if they’re being hunted down,” Urcias stated. His anger rose. The boy’s comment was out of place. He resisted the urge to grab him by the tunic and demand to know who he was. They needed to get closer to the group they were following, so he showed indifference.

  “Sir. We best hurry,” Rufus said. “The sun’s below the horizon.”

  “I agree. Let’s make the temple before nightfall. There we can light torches without being seen. I don’t want to chance our position being given away.” Urcias glanced once more at the boy. There wasn’t any emotion on his face. He pushed his thoughts away for the moment, leading the group the remaining distance to the top. He hoped Christos would keep his tight grip on Matt. If Uthal had sent a spy to keep tabs on them, they couldn’t afford for this boy to escape. Having him warn those in Crag Cairn of their approach would decrease any success they may have in defeating the Black Warlock.

  When they finally crested the top of the cliff, the massive dark shadow of the mountains of Crag Cairn greeted them. In the light of the setting sun, the captain could see the old ruins of the temple Zuya told them about.

  “See, sir? She was right about it.”

  “I’ll never doubt you again. I understand your magic. And your ability.”

  “Sir? Should we light the torches now?” Rufus asked. He held up one of the wooden shafts they had created the day before.

  “No. We need to wait until it’s absolutely necessary. It’s too open here. Let’s get as close to the ruins as we possibly can.”

  “Look, there’s some more prints in the snow,” Papella exclaimed. He bent closer to the ground. “These are fresh. Maybe an hour or so old.”

  “Good. Then we’re gaining ground.”

  “What if the ratsssss have them?” Matt stuttered.

  Urcias watched as the boy’s face seem to shapeshift. The eyes were different. Matt’s skin sagged a little at the cheekbones and took on an appearance of greyness.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” he asked. He drew closer to him. “You look ill. Are you all right? There’s something wrong with your cheeks.”

  Matt’s hands quickly came up to his face. He took his palms and hid the sagging flesh. “Just cold. Coldnessssss,” he replied.

  The whites of Matt’s eyes suddenly swirled with a mist of darkness that quickly dissipated as he dropped his hands. Urcias took a step backward, almost knocking Ditred over. The shifting of the boy’s eyes into blackness surprised him. His mind reeled.

  “What’s the matter? Sir?” The injured man helped the captain regain his balance.

  “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asked. He turned away from the boy. He didn’t want whatever this thing was to see his shock.

  Not waiting for Ditred’s reply, the captain started moving toward the temple. His feet paced themselves of their own accord. What happened to the real boy? What was this thing? He had heard of shapeshifters. The Bodach. But he had never come across one. How could they deal with it? His mind raced. They needed to get rid of it before they caught up to the others. He tried to think about several scenarios in which he confronted the thing. Yet, in each, his fear that their position would be discovered if it escaped was realized. No. Christos would have to keep an eye on this Bodach. They must reach the interior of Crag Cairn and catch up to the wizard before they did anything about the imposter. Only then would they discard themselves of it.

  When they neared the temple, the light of the sun had completely ebbed. Darkness covered the cold mountain plateau, and his heart. He quietly ordered the lighting of the torches as they continued to follow the tracks in the snow. Entering the temple’s dark interior, he made himself leave his mercy at its threshold. He must play his moves carefully, he concluded. There would be only a sliver of time in which he could reveal to the others that this boy wasn’t the Matt he knew from Earth. It would be in that split second that they would have to do away with the imposter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Bera shut her eyes in irritation. The cries of the children bothered her. Much more than before. If she had the opportunity, she would get the Fir Darrigs to silence them with rope. Or better yet, let them have the children as a snack. Five of them. She covered her ears. All whining about their fate. It was just unbearable to listen to.

  “Where’s that banshee?” she finally yelled, frustrated. She wanted silence. “She needs to do something about the noise.” She slammed the large book closed. The children jumped in fright.

  In a sudden rush of air, a ghostly black shadow of a woman floated to the middle of the room. She hovered above the heads of the children. Softly, she sang a lullaby. When the words stopped, she reproached Bera. “They’re frightened, that’s all.” She returned to the children and said a small spell to ease their fears.

  “Keep your pets quiet. They’re annoying. All the sniveling they’re doing. It’s enough to make one mad.”

  “You’re scaring them more by your harshness,” Makura scolded. “If you could be gentle, that would help.”

  Bera frowned. “I’m no more a gentle thing than you’re an alive thing.” Her voice slithered in contempt.

  The witch watched the banshee shudder. She smiled slightly. It made her feel good that her words cut deep into the ill-fated soul of the woman.

  Picking up the large volume she had been studying, she started out of the room until a thought struck her. Turning back to Makura, she regarded the banshee with hostility. “They need to be brought up to the Hall of Mirrors. All of them. At dawn. Do you hear me? The timing must be exact.”

  “I hear you.”

  “We’ll need to wait u
ntil both moons are with the sun. This alignment is what we’ve been waiting for these past three thousand years. The start of the forgotten spell.”

  “How can you see anything above the storm you created? The clouds dim everything.”

  “I’ve already created the spell to clear the sky above us. Tomorrow will bring what we need.”

  “I don’t want to die,” the little boy screamed suddenly. “I want my mom! Where’s my mom?”

  “We didn’t do anything to you,” the older girl added. “Why did you take us from our home? Just take us back. Please. We won’t tell anyone.”

  “Yeah. We’ll be silent about this place,” the older boy sputtered. His eyes watered. “You don’t have to hurt us, ya know.”

  “Yes,” the twin girls cried in unison. “Let us go home. Please?”

  The blabbering and tears created a fury in the witch. Reluctantly, Bera decided to play Makura’s game. “I know. I know,” she said with exaggerated charm. “It’s very scary, isn’t it? We only want something from you. You’re not going to die. Who said you were going to die?” She smiled with gritted teeth. She tapped the top of the little boy’s head with her forefinger, afraid to touch much more of him. “You’re going to be fine. All of you are going to be fine. We’ll send you back. In just a few short days. As soon as we’re done.” Her grin felt uncomfortable, but it seemed to calm them.

  Bera hated children with every ounce of her being and it took all her effort to give them any type of reassurance. “I’m going to take the book and ready his mirror in the hall. Stay with them until I need them.” She regarded Makura with raised brows. “And keep them quiet.”

  “Is this really necessary? Does he have to do this?”

  “You of all things should know that answer. Especially when you walked with him so long ago. Has your punishment not taught you anything?”

  “It has given me the lesson of humility and compassion,” Makura replied. She floated in front of Bera.

  “It should have taken those qualities from you. Just like it took the same from him. Just like it took them from me.” She couldn’t stand looking at the banshee any longer. Masking herself, she walked out of the room, her blond ringlets bouncing profusely with each step. Once the door had closed, she felt some relief.

  “Go get the mirror,” she said quickly to one of the rat men outside the door. “Bring it to the hall and put it with the other one.”

  The Fir Darrig sneered and gave the witch a slight smile. It quickly bowed and scampered back along the darkened hallway toward the room that she and Princess Ceridwyn occupied earlier in the day. So much happening all at once. She held her fingers to her temple.

  She had already brought the other mirror up there. Hopefully without Uthal’s knowledge. Hiding it among the others in the great hall would keep it from his discovery. She didn’t want him to know that she was taking precautions. Having an escape route available was her safeguard. Should things not go as planned, hanging around wasn’t going to be an option. It was becoming ever so difficult to mask her mind and her thoughts from him. Too many were converging on the fortress. Especially one force. She could feel the presence, even though it veiled itself with a great magic. That one would be her downfall if it reached them.

  Earlier in the day, one of ravens flew through the tower window, bringing with it a message. They had spotted three individuals hiding among the rocks outside the walls. She told it not to raise an alarm. If there were assassins out front, then most likely there were going to be assassins coming from behind. Hopefully the Brollachan would take care of whoever lurked around and they would be finished before the other three made it inside. She knew the elf queen wouldn’t allow this spell weaving to go unchallenged.

  Muttering to herself as she walked down the hall, she felt the presence of the Sword of Balorn growing closer. Uthal’s plans never quite made it to success and she wondered why she believed this one would. If he had just listened to her, they wouldn’t be in this dilemma, and all the legendary four would have drowned, not just the boy. She wondered who carried the sword. One of the other boys? Perhaps the girl? No, it couldn’t be the girl. She was too weak. Not much of anything to challenge an ancient warlock.

  Opening the large wooden doors to the great hall, she moved to the table next to Uthal’s mirror. Concealing her mind with simple things, she hid away the ideas and thoughts she had been musing on. Three thousand years locked away with him taught her many things, the most important of which was never to let him know her secrets.

  “Are the children ready?” he asked from behind the clouded glass.

  “Yes. Makura is tending to them at this moment.”

  “Good. I’m anxious to begin. I’ve forgotten how it feels to be outside this prison.”

  “You have one more night.”

  Uthal laughed softly. “You know I’ve never been patient.”

  Bera didn’t say anything. Her mind wrapped itself around the words in the book she opened. She concentrated on the forgotten spell. This was the ancient of ancients. Her thoughts moved backwards to when they lived on Earth. Back to the land of the Fomorians filled with crystal palaces, gardens, and things of magic that breathed harmony into their world.

  It was by chance that a despondent man from across the ocean happened upon their shores. A castaway adrift in the tides. The House of Balorn never knew hatred or fear, and welcomed him with open arms. They taught him everything. Even the things which could destroy their world. Their naïve belief that all beings possess goodness hid them from the true nature of this man. He knew only greed and power.

  “It had been given to me,” the warlock bellowed suddenly.

  Bera knew too late that she left a crack in her defense. “I was just reminiscing about the past,” she offered politely.

  “Do you believe yourself innocent in what happened? You gave me the idea, witch.”

  “I gave you love and you used it against me,” she replied, her eyes turning to fire as she whipped around and glared at the mirror glass. “Do you want this spell performed or not?”

  She could hear him take a deep breath. The distorted face disappeared for a moment, allowing her to regain her composure. She viewed her false reflection in the silver glass. Her eyes began to lose the orange and red flame, cooling to black before submerging into the blue she hid behind.

  Uthal’s face emerged from behind the red clouds and overlapped her image. “Yes. Continue with your task. I’m sorry for my outburst. You must forgive me. Is the princess locked in the tower?”

  “I had the rat men take her. She’s heavily drugged so there’s no possibility of her disturbing us. Or escaping.”

  “What about her escorts?”

  “The Brollachan took care of that problem.”

  “Excellent. After I’m released we’ll have the ceremony.”

  “Why do you need her to wed you? She’s just a girl.”

  “It’s what she offers. She’s the princess of the Shadow People.”

  “So?” The witch’s mouth screwed into a dissatisfied smirk. “How’s that going to help you? If she kisses you, you’ll lose your soul.”

  “No. Untrue. Not unless she wills it. If she becomes mine in marriage, then the magic works differently. Her powers, all those life forces of those she destroyed, become mine. When she kisses me? Takes me for her husband? They come to me. The ancient Druid power is all I need from her. You can do away with her after that. But you must keep her drugged. She can’t know what is really happening.”

  “Why must I deal with all your dirty work?” The witch seethed at his request. “Do away with her yourself.”

  “If I take her soul, then I lose mine. Based on the conditions of the contract with her father. You loved me once. Give me this last gift.” Uthal made his voice soft. “Don’t you remember our love?”

  Bera closed her mind. She remembered and she despised it. “As you wish,” she muttered. Her eyes darted to the mirror at the other end of the hall. She would gi
ve him what he wanted and then she would have her own revenge. “As you wish, my love.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sitting in the rafters had its advantages, particularly when one wanted to remain hidden, yet needed to follow the movements of the witch’s rats. Idril remained still. He crouched close to a beam and watched as several of the rat men carried the limp body of a girl up the steep stone steps to one of the towers. Within a short time, the two hairy beasts came back down empty-handed.

  Who was that? Could she be in danger? Without hesitation, he leapt quietly to the stone floor after the rat men disappeared. In his heart, he felt compelled to render aid, especially knowing that all who entered the fortress of Crag Cairn could be doomed. The voices attached to the wand told him to go. His power was needed. This was his destiny.

  Creeping up the narrow staircase as it wound around the outer tower wall, he soon came to the top and a locked door. Taking out the wand, he held the ancient shaft in front of the gold metal of the door’s lock. He hesitated. Remembering Adalay’s words, he debated with himself whether he should use it. If the power would alert the Black Warlock to his position, he might be dooming himself. It was just a simple quick wish, he finally concluded. Surely a small one wouldn’t give away my presence? Besides, he rationalized, the voices were urging him on.

  The zap of energy shot out quickly when Idril made the wand know his heart’s desire. The locking mechanism clicked. He tucked the wand back into its hiding place beneath his tunic. Sliding the latch, he entered the tower room quietly. He carefully closed the door and stepped into the room. Looking around the small enclosure, he noticed several rows of candles on a table by the window. Their flames flickered and danced, casting shadows along the stones.

  A small moan caught his attention and he moved toward the bed against the far wall. He could see the form of the girl lying on the furs that were draped across the top. Tiptoeing to its side, he regarded her stillness. Was she all right? Just then, she cried out and rolled over. Idril could see her eyes open briefly. They were vacant and distant. Seeing but not seeing. He also noticed that she had a large cut across the palm of one of her hands. He looked at it closer. The dried blood on her fingertips were an indication that the cut was recent. For what reason?