Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Carys sat next to Cadell in the van the next morning, leaning against the dragon’s broad shoulder and trying to forget the nightmare that had woken her in the middle of the night.
Nightmare or vision?
“Poor little thing… You’re not capable of defeating a god… They needed a warrior, and instead they have you.”
The dream had been meant to terrorize her and make her give up, but where was the lie? Macha was right. Despite her small victories, Carys was wholly unequipped for a battle against an ancient Irish war goddess.
This wasn’t the battle on Saris Plain where she had the entire Cymric dragon horde, a powerful fae prince, and Anglia’s armies backing her up.
This wasn’t even hunting down a half-fae sorceress with Duncan and Lachlan at her side.
No, she was in the Brightlands where she had no power at all, and an ancient and powerful goddess was trying to raise a new cult so that she could break the gates between worlds.
And the hero chosen by the old gods was a human mythology professor with raging anxiety.
What the actual fuck?
Carys was probably not the only one doubting their mission, because while everyone in the van was rested and well-fed, the mood was somber.
Duncan reached over to the radio and turned up the music—a classic-rock station that really loved the Eagles—and Carys’s dragon took the opportunity to pry.
“What’s wrong?” Cadell asked softly. “I tried to speak to your mind, but you’re very closed off this morning.”
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head. “Just tired.”
“You are lying to me.” His voice was stiff. “Did you have an argument with the surly human? Do I need to speak to him?”
“No. And no. Just…” Carys didn’t know what to say. She was a grown woman. She shouldn’t need a dragon to fight all her battles for her. “Leave it.”
And it wasn’t like she could send Cadell after the Morrígan. He couldn’t chase a goddess into her dreams.
“I will find out what is bothering you,” Cadell said, “and then I will deal with it. Or him. Or whoever has caused this melancholy.”
“Can we talk about this later?”
Cadell’s jaw was tense. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
Ironically, the only cheerful member of the party seemed to be Jibril, who had not wanted to rest the night before and was now clearly eager to see the man he called the Builder.
“He might be working today,” Jibril said, “but we’ll visit his cottage first. It’s on the edge of the forest.”
West Blean Wood was a vast conservation area just a few miles outside Canterbury, so it only took them a few minutes from town to be in the middle of forest. Duncan drove up Thornden Wood Road, looking for a place to park.
“So does this builder live in a pocket world like Jack?” Duncan asked. “Can us regular humans enter this one?”
“No, he lives in this world as I do,” Jibril said. “He is a simple man.”
“He’s a builder?” Carys asked.
Jibril nodded. “Of a sort.”
They were nearly through the forest when Jibril pointed to the right where a nearly hidden driveway appeared between two trees. “There. Turn there.”
Duncan waited for a car to pass, then turned in to the narrow, two-track drive that cut through a dense stand of chestnut trees and brush.
Beyond the trees, they entered a clearing where a bright white wattle-and-daub house backed up to the forest. It bore a thatch roof, and at the peak of that roof, Carys saw a man working.
Duncan parked the van, and Carys immediately opened the side door and slid out of the car, her eyes fixed on the man working on the roof. There was something very familiar about him. Something about the way he moved.
The Builder turned and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He smiled when he saw the angel exit the van. “Jibril, old friend. Who have you brought to meet me?”
Carys had never seen the man before in her life, so why did she have a sense of recognition?
He had high cheekbones and a longish nose. His face was a sun-warmed brown, tanned from working in the outdoors. His dark brown hair was long and curly, pulled back into a messy knot at the back of his head.
The man—druid or god or whoever he was—sat on the roof, setting a bunch of long dry reeds next to him, and bent his knees, resting his elbows on his knees as he scanned the party exiting the van.
Kind brown eyes landed on Carys. “It’s Gareth’s daughter.”
“Oh!” Tears immediately came to her eyes when she realized who the Builder had to be, and she could barely hold back a laugh. “You’re…” She sniffed. “My dad knew you. And you knew my dad?”
His voice was resonant though his face was plain. He spoke in a rich South English accent with hints of something far more ancient. “I know your dad, Carys.”
“So you’re… I mean, you’re really—”
“You can call me Joshua.” He turned and started climbing down the ladder that was propped against the house.
“Joshua?” Duncan asked. “Joshua.” He nodded slowly. “Oh fu— Uhhh. No.” The tall man seemed bashful. “My… goodness.”
“Oh, I get it!” Laura pointed to him. “Joshua. Yeshua. Jibril. Gabriel. That’s unexpected, but I guess it shouldn’t be.”
Joshua reached the ground and turned, walking over to Jibril as he pulled off the thick leather gloves he’d been wearing to repair the thatch roof. “Welcome, friends.”
“Old gods.” Angus lowered himself from the van and ambled over, his back bent and his eyes keen on the man. He pointed his walking stick at Joshua. “New gods.” He gave Joshua a curt nod. “Builder.”
“Shepherd.” Joshua crossed wiry arms over his chest. He looked at Carys, and his eyes softened. “You visit me with stories in your eyes, Carys Morgan.”
Carys was still wondering at Joshua’s existence in a small cottage on the edge of an old forest outside Canterbury. “How are you… here?”
Joshua glanced at the angel next to Carys. “Jibril and I exist where the faithful exist.”
“But that’s not just here,” Carys said. “I mean… Both of you—”
“Are here because we need to be here,” Joshua said. “And we are elsewhere when we need to be elsewhere.”
Jibril turned to Joshua. “I feel that you must know the Morrígan is loose in the Brightlands.”
Joshua nodded. “I have felt her rising power, but now I see the old gods have given us a hero.” He gestured toward Carys, and his eyes landed on someone behind her. “And she has a dragon. George is turning in his grave, but there you are.” Joshua’s eyes were dancing.
Jibril leaned against the corner of the van. “A dragon’s not much use in the Brightlands, old friend.”
Lachlan and Duncan, Cadell, Laura, Naida, and Angus, all came to stand beside Carys.
Joshua nodded in approval. “Loyalty and love are useful everywhere.” He angled his head toward the open door of his house.
“Come. There are seven of you. Seven is a good number.” He started walking to the cottage.
“Come, friends. Let’s eat, and we shall speak about many things.
Let us see if we can find a way to help the hero the old gods have chosen for this task. ”
Laura was craning her neck as they sat in the surprisingly roomy living space in Joshua’s cottage. “It’s bigger on the inside.”
Lachlan stretched his neck from one side to the other. “Pocket world.”
“Is it?” Carys turned to Cadell. Is it?
The dragon stretched out his arm, and just under the surface of his skin, she saw a ripple of green pebbled skin. “It appears that it must be.”
“None of that now.” Joshua handed Cadell a large mug of tea. “I can make the place bigger, but you transforming would really ruin the roof.”
Jibril looked up. “You’re always working on your roof.”
“The work relaxes me.”
Duncan was sitting against the back wall, staring at the man. He kept looking between Carys, then Jibril, then Joshua again.
Joshua nodded at him as he sat across from Carys. “You have a faithful protector in that man. Your father would be pleased.”
Carys couldn’t handle thinking about her father and what he would have thought of Duncan right now. Her emotions were all over the place.
“How does it work?” Carys asked. “I mean, my dad is dead, but you said you know him and—”
“There are some questions that I cannot answer for you right now. Not because I don’t want to but because the human mind is limited,” Joshua said. “Can you accept that?”
Carys nodded numbly. “I guess I have to.”
“But I can assure you that the gifts you have been given—from your father and your mother—encompass everything you will need to complete your task.” Joshua kept his voice soft. “Do you believe me?”
“No,” she blurted. “Right now I feel like I’m going to fail.” Her cheeks heated.
Joshua waved a hand, and in the blink of an eye, the world around them froze.
Carys sat up straight. “What did you just do?”
“I simply gave us some privacy.” Joshua shrugged. “Let us exist on another plane for a moment. You were embarrassed to speak the truth in front of your friends because you believe they are looking to you for leadership.”
Okay, obviously he was a god, but how did he see her so clearly?
“The Morrígan sent me a dream last night,” Carys said.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.”
Joshua nodded. “You don’t want to appear frightened.”
“But I am.”
“Which I’m sure you must know was her intention.” He spread his hands. “You are a very intelligent woman, so I’m sure you realize that fear and discouragement was her objective.”
“Logically yes, but… right now I am doubting everything,” Carys blurted out. “I don’t think I’m a hero. I don’t even know what that looks like for me, you know?”
Joshua nodded thoughtfully.
“Like, maybe Seren was supposed to be the hero. Maybe that’s why she was killed at the beginning of all this. She was a hero. She was a dragon lord—a proper one! And I’m just kind of the really bad substitute teacher.” Tears began to well in her eyes. “I’m the substitute for a lot, I think.”
Joshua spoke softly. “You are not the substitute.”