Chapter 13
“HE WON’T JOIN us.”
“It’s too early to make that claim … he has until morning.”
Cailean snorted. “The Half-blood’s loyalty is to his wulvers … no one else.”
Leaning forward, Lara poked the embers of the fire with a stick.
The flames had a hypnotic effect. It was hard to concentrate.
“He’ll know this affects them as well.” Her belly tightened then.
She was keeping up a stoic front, but the truth was that ever since Alar had stalked off into the darkness, she’d worried he wouldn’t return.
She’d nearly cut his throat, after all. The Reaper take her, she’d been close to losing it. What if he refused to help them?
She’d admitted none of her worries to her companions. Nonetheless, some of them must have marked the blood running down Alar’s neck as he’d walked by.
Shades. They didn’t have time for this. The days were racing by. They had to reach The Shattered Crown by Gateway.
“Sitting out here like a fat grouse on a moor is making me nervous,” Roth grumbled then. The warrior kept glancing east, to where the home fires of Dulross glowed faintly through the trees. “They’ll know we’re vulnerable.”
“I don’t like it either,” Mor replied with a grimace. “But we need the Half-blood. We have to risk it.”
A tense silence settled around the gently crackling fire then. Of course, they’d already taken precautions; it would be foolish not to. Their mounts waited a short distance behind them. The horses were saddled and ready to go—although the elks and stags didn’t wear saddles and bridles.
Mor had chained Dorka to a tree a few yards away so that she could scratch.
The clag-doo’s claws grew constantly, and she needed to blunt them often.
Now fresh scratches marred the pine’s trunk, oozing sap.
Dorka watched them. Her eyes glowed in the firelight, and her tail twitched.
After Alar’s departure, the Raven Queen had spent time, as usual, trying to gentle her pet.
However, Dorka had merely spat and hissed at her.
“Are you well, Lara?” Bree whispered then, leaning close.
Lara stiffened. “Aye. Why?”
“When we were talking earlier, you just sat there, staring into the fire. It was as if you’d left us.”
Lara blinked. She didn’t remember blanking, although this wasn’t the first time one of her companions had made such an observation. Her pulse quickened then, a sickly sensation stirring in her gut. This was happening too frequently now to ignore it. Something was wrong with her.
“We must be patient.” Mor’s voice intruded then. Reaching up, she stroked Eagal’s soft feathers. The raven roosted on her shoulder, eyes closed. “He needs time to think it over.”
Next to her, Vyr huffed. “He doesn’t have time. We can’t linger here. After things soured with the Circines, their chieftain might decide to have his reckoning with you … or he might just take the opportunity to bring down two queens with one stone.”
Mor pulled a face before casting her cousin an irritated look.
“What happened with the Circines?” Lara asked.
“I made a deal with them … and they broke it,” Mor replied.
“They didn’t want to wait five years to get the territory they’d been promised,” Vyr added. Firelight played over his handsome face, the silver half-moon on one earlobe glinting. “You Marav are impatient.”
“Can you blame us? We don’t have centuries to play with like you do,” Roth replied.
Vyr shrugged, giving him that.
Lara dug her stick into the embers once more, sending up a spray of sparks.
She too was nervous waiting here. If the Circines and wulvers attacked, they didn’t have the resources to face them.
They’d have to flee into the night instead, leaving Alar behind.
And since they couldn’t perform the binding without him, they wouldn’t be traveling to The Shattered Crown.
Instead, she’d have to return to Duncrag, knowing that she’d failed her people.
The spirits plaguing them would grow in number, and the world would grow dark indeed.
Her pulse quickened.
Gods. She hoped she hadn’t ruined everything.
Her gaze traveled around the fireside then, taking in the faces of their small band. The Shee all looked tense, their gazes wary, whereas Cailean and Roth wore deep frowns. However, when her attention shifted to Annis, Lara stilled.
The counselor’s face had gone slack. Her dark eyes were glassy as she stared off at a point behind Lara’s shoulder. Lara observed her for a moment, wondering if that was what she looked like when she drifted away.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled then. She hadn’t been herself of late, but Annis was usually as sharp as a boning knife. Something was wrong.
Tensing, she twisted.
A light in the darkness winked back at her.
Lara’s breathing caught.
The golden light flickered. A heartbeat later, another appeared a few feet away from the first. Flames dancing.
Corpse candles.
And as she had a year earlier, she felt their pull. Follow me.
But this time, the urge didn’t overwhelm her. Warmth suffused her chest. It was like seeing old friends.
“Annis?” Ren’s voice drew her attention back to the fire. “Where are you going?”
Indeed, the older woman had just lurched to her feet and was stumbling away.
Lara motioned to Roth. “Stop her!”
Standing up, he caught Annis by the arm. She barely noticed him though, as she stared into the trees. And when the warrior followed her gaze, his expression changed. Wonder filtered over his rugged features.
“Shit,” Lara muttered as she got up. “It’s the corpse candles. Lower your gaze to the fire … and don’t look behind me.”
Cailean growled an oath. Gaze averted, he rose to his feet and moved toward Annis and Roth. Then, keeping his back to the dancing flames, he faced the captain and counselor. “Shake it off, you two.”
Neither answered. Instead, Roth tried to push past the chief-enforcer. His lips were parted, his eyes shining. The faerie lights had him.
The ‘crack’ of Cailean’s palm colliding with his cheek echoed around the glade.
Roth stumbled back, while Cailean caught Annis by the shoulders, shaking her. “Annis!”
She blinked, surprise rippling across her face. “What—”
“Corpse candles,” he cut her off, turning her sharply around.
Rubbing his stinging cheek, Roth also turned his back on the flames.
Lara glanced over at the Shee then. They watched the unfolding scene with interest; of course, corpse candles didn’t affect them. They could stare at the lights with impunity.
Mor raised an eyebrow. “You resisted them … how?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “A year ago, powries used corpse candles to lure me into a trap.” Anger flickered to life under her ribs then. Of course, the powries were Mor’s servants these days. Had the Raven Queen ordered that attack? “But tonight, it’s different.”
“How?”
Lara shook her head, confused. “I don’t know … I still feel their lure … but it just … washes through me.”
Her companions all looked puzzled by this.
“Maybe it’s the fire magic?” Ren suggested hesitantly, even as she took care not to glance up from the fire lest the faerie lights ensnare her. “It might be protecting you.”
“Or perhaps it calls to them,” Annis added. Her round face was pale, her expression shaken.
Lara didn’t answer. Instead, uneasiness twisted in her belly. Or could it be another sign that something is wrong with me? The lapses. The blanks. And now her surprising reaction to the corpse candles. It could all be connected.
“How many of them are there?” Cailean asked, his voice sharp. He’d placed a hand over his eyes.
Lara glanced over her shoulder. More lights winked into existence then. Moments later, they illuminated the surrounding pinewood. “A great number now,” she replied. “Keep your gazes averted or—”
The snap of twigs and the tattoo of running feet intruded then. Like skittish fawns, the corpse candles scattered.
In a burst of movement, Mor and her Ravens all sprang to their feet, blades sliding from scabbards. Likewise, Lara and her escort all drew their weapons, swiveling toward the noise.
And then Alar appeared.
Face glistening with sweat, he carried a young woman over one shoulder, while another lass followed close behind. Both women had long flaxen hair and wore voluminous black cloaks. Their hoods had fallen back, and bronze glinted at their throat in the firelight. Bed-slave collars.
“What’s this?” Mor greeted him.
“I’m coming with you,” he gasped, lowering the trembling lass to her feet.
“Who are these two?” Lara demanded.
Alar glanced her way, straightening up and pushing hair from his face. “Duana and Eithne. They’re mac Og’s daughters. Beathan and his second took them as bed-slaves. I didn’t want to leave them there.”
His explanation made something jolt deep in Lara’s chest. An instant later, heat washed over her. Surely, she wasn’t relieved that these women weren’t his?
Mor made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “You were supposed to bring a small escort of warriors with you.”
“That wasn’t possible,” he shot back. “And while we stand here blethering, trouble is coming. We need to go.”
The thunder of approaching hoofbeats shook the ground then, torchlight flickering through the trees.
No one argued with Alar after that. Leaving their fire pit burning, for there was no time to kick dirt over it, Shee and Marav alike rushed to their mounts. Mor untied Dorka, dragged her away from the tree, and vaulted upon her white elk’s back.
Lara mounted Bracken, noting that Roth had yanked one of the lasses up onto his stallion’s back.
Meanwhile, Cailean had hauled the other one up behind him.
However, Alar was still on foot. Her heart kicked against her ribs.
Curse it. He was fast, but even with his earth magic, he’d never keep up with them.
He was going to have to ride with someone.
Just not her.
Skaal stalked up to Alar then, pushing hard against his shoulder. He flashed the fae hound a wary look. “What is it?”