Chapter 28 Broken Chains
They exchanged very few words during supper.
For five hundred years Brun had naively believed that it was all quite simple, just an ordinary battle between good and evil, like in one of Lizzie’s fantasy books, but instead it was a tale with too many layers of lies and hidden truths. Once a thread is pulled, one gets quickly tangled within a web of mystery.
And betrayal.
As Lizzie liked to say, he felt like all pieces of that ancient jigsaw were right in front of his eyes and yet he could not put them together.
Assuming they had truly uncovered all pieces…
It seemed clear that Brun Theynore knew the identity of the Dreams Thief. As a Fae of mixed blood and therefore a pariah amongst his brethren, it would have made sense for him to ally himself with the monster, after all, wasn’t the Dreams Thief’s ultimate goal to wield both types of power, just like Brun Theynore did?
At some point he must have regretted such alliance, however, the monster had not been known to forgive deserters, which could explain Brun Theynore’s desperate escape from the Otherworld.
And it could also explain why Fayla hunted him down so ruthlessly: she had mercilessly destroyed the Dreams Thief’s minions.
He grunted in frustration, because none of that provided the answer to the one thing he cared to know right now.
How to defeat the monster and save Lizzie’s life.
Lizzie.
Massaging the sore muscles of his shoulders under the strong flow of hot water, Brun felt guilt coiling in his chest. He had been behaving like a beast around her when she had done nothing to deserve it. Heavens, she was as much a victim of the Fae as he was.
You are the descendant of a Conjurer. Well, of the Conjurer who featured on top of the most wanted list of the Otherworld for a long time.
Betrayal.
The Endellys sisters had known he was related to the monster who killed their parents and had kept the truth from him. Had Fayla known too? Most likely, he decided, closing his eyes and allowing the water to pour over his head and face.
After another five minutes, Brun turned off the shower and wrapped his still tense body in a towel, walking out of his bathroom. He fixed his eyes on the wall of his chamber and clenched his jaws.
He could almost see Lizzie through the layers of bricks and mortar between them as if the masonry did not exist. After casting the Coupling Rune, the physical barriers of the room no longer meant anything. He did not even need to reach for the tracking spell; he could sense her presence as if she were standing right next to him.
And he could acutely sense her frustration too.
Yes, she was frustrated at their lack of progress, at the fact that they had pretty much been chasing their tails for weeks now, but above all was frustrated because she wanted to talk about them, but he did not know what to say. How could he tell her that he was mad with desire for her, but that giving in to the urges of his body was not enough for him?
How could he make her understand that finding out that the feelings he had carried for four centuries were not real had broken him completely, possibly beyond salvation?
How could he tell her that he would never trust his heart again?
He could not speak of any of it. His only hope now was that in the end he would find out what was left of him.
Darkness is vanquished when the heart is sacrificed.
If the prophecy also referred to him, perhaps his was the heart to be sacrificed.
Well, then that is done…
The soft ring on an incoming message snapped Brun out of his reveries.
Grabbing his phone from his desk, he slid his thumb over the screen to unlock it. An incoming email.
He stared at the sender’s address and felt his stomach twist into knots: it was from the Scotland Yard and it bored an attachment.
With the warm greetings of Chief Inspector Edward Douglas.
With his heart thundering inside his chest, he walked to his desk and turned on his laptop. After a couple of impatient minutes, the attachment opened and his heart stopped.
A face he believed to be dead for two hundred years stared at him in modern clothes but with the same irritating cocky smile he had loathed with all his soul.
Finn MacTaggart.
Or as he was known in the present, Finn Duncan.
Lizzie examined the wooden floor, convinced that she had dug a groovejust from pacing in her room, however to her astonishment, the planks were still intact.
There was tapping sound on her window and she pushed the curtains a little. It was raining.
She was feeling miserable. God save her, she could sense Brun”s scent event through the thick wall between them and it was driving her mad.
Stupid Coupling Rune!
That certainly had made things a lot worse!
He had kept her at arm’s length for the entire day. He was still ever the gentleman of course, but he was treating her as if she had a contagious disease.
She was confused too, but what good could come from burying their heads in the sand? Shouldn’t they at least try to dissect that mess they were into?
“Men!” Lizzie grumbled in frustration.
Maybe he was satisfied with ruminating over things for centuries, but she was mortal, she did not have that long time-span! She ought to bang on his door right that instant and demand he spoke with her.
Feeling a new surge of confidence, Lizzie decided that that was exactly what she was going to do and marched out of her room. Shewas not going to spend another night without at least acknowledging the freakishly big magical elephant in the room.
The old wooden floor on the corridor felt cold under her bare feet, but Lizzie paid no mind to the discomfort, because her blood boiling with anger.
She stood outside Brun’s door with her fist raised to knock, and hesitated. It was late, he was probably already sleeping…
Biting her lower lip, she pressed her ear against the door, but the wood was too thick for her to make any sound coming from inside.
“You can come in, Lizzie,” Brun’s voice sounded from the other side startling her.
Well, I forgot that spell works both ways…
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Brun, I really thi–”
The words died in her throat when she saw what he had in his hands.
He was sitting on his armchair with a huge sword lying across his lap. Something gray and square was on his hand.
A whetstone?
“Holy Mother of God!” she muttered eyeing the weapon, “What is… Where did you…”
“This is my claidheamh mór,” he replied to her stuttering.
“Your what now?”
The blasted man laughed at her!
“My claidheamh mór, I think the English pronounce it claymore. Tis the weapon of a Scottish warrior,” he explained proudly, holding it by the hilt and lifting it in air as if the freakishly big sword were a butter knife. It looked comfortable in his hands, like a pen or a mobile phone.
Only a lot longer and sharper.
Lizzie took a step back in horror, “Brun, where do you think you will be using this thing?”
He stood up, holding the hilt of the claymore with both hands and swished it in the air. He was wearing only the bottom of his pyjamas and his hair hung humid and dishevelled by his shoulders. The muscles of his arms and chest bulged with the movement, evidencing each one of his many scars, and for a brief moment Lizzie could almost see him in his warrior’s attire, standing over his battlefield.
His face was grim, “This sword bears ancient enchantments, cast by Triarell herself,” was his reply. He was now very close to her and she realised that the sword was as tall as her shoulders, “It is time to bring it back from retirement.”
Something in his tone caught her attention, “Wait, what happened? What changed?”
His expression remained serious, though a small grin cut his face, “There’s no doubt you’re an Endellysbut you surely inherited Ryul’s ability to read people,” he set the gigantic sword against his desk and then held her by the shoulders, staring straight into her eyes, “I know who the Dreams Thief is.”
Lizzie swallowed hard, dread coiling her stomach. Although that was the million pounds’ question, giving the creature a name somehow would make it more real.
“How did…” the voice died in her throat, “How did you find out?”
“You better sit down,” was his reply and he gently steered her towards the armchair he had occupied a moment before. The upholstery was still warm from the heat of his body and for a moment she was intoxicated by the lingering scent of citrus and sandalwood.
Brun stood in front of her, “I did not tell you this before, but when we opened the locket, I too saw something…”
“What? Why did you not tell me?”
He flushed with embarrassment, “I guess my mind has been elsewhere…”
She bit her lower lip.
Right where he left the pieces of his heart, were the words he was not saying.
“The point is,” he went on, “I saw myself by a lake and there was a man there. A man with golden hair. He was angry when he detected my presence and threatened me, and I just knew he was the Dreams Thief.”
Her heart thundered in her chest and she could not force the words through the knot in her throat.
“My best guess is that because we were both touching Aranna’s locket,” he went on, “I must have absorbed some of its power and it somehow made me connect to the mind of the Dreams Thief,” he combed his hair with his finger, “I cannot explain how I know this, but I am certain that that man was connected to me… It has to be the Dreams Thief!”
“But…” she tried, but he was already turning away. He grabbed his laptop and placed it on her lap, turning it on.
She gasped when Finn’s face stared at her.
It was a nice picture, but of course, Finn was a handsome man. Still she looked at it and could not understand how she felt attracted to him, at least not to the point of sleeping with him…
“I gather from your reaction that this is your Finn?”
She glared at him, “Yes, this is the Finn Duncan I told you about, but he’s hardly mine!” she objected.
He closed the laptop and set it again on his desk, “Forgive me, I expressed myself badly…” then he crouched beside the armchair and held her hands, “Lizzie, that is Finn MacTaggart, the Changeling I told you about.”
All blood drained away from her face, “What?” she cried, “Are you sure?
Outside the rain got stronger.
Brun exhaled, “Unfortunately, yes. After the second chance encounter with him, I decided to investigate the matter a little more closely, so I called on an old friend from the Yard to do some sleuthing for me.”
Her eyes widened, “Is that the business you had in Edinburgh?”
He nodded, “My friend is a retired Scotland Yard detective who still has plenty of contacts with the active force. They got me a dossier on Finn Duncan, although as I expected, it isn’t much of a dossier since he pretty much appeared out of thin air about six years ago… That was not a coincidence…”
Lizzie shot to her feet, covering her mouth with her hand, afraid she was going to retch.
“Oh my God! You saw a blond man!” she cried when realisation hit her, “You think that Finn…”
“Yes, I believe that Finn is the Dreams Thief.”
She pressed her hands against her temples, “But that does not make sense… Didn’t you say he was a Changeling?”
“That is what we all believed. He arrived at Nead Feannag requesting shelter, claiming to have been trained by a Conjurer who was already dead, and back then there were scores of Changelings… His story was… well, not unusual.”
“And I bet that there were no such thing as a Changeling registry…” Lizzie muttered and Brun could not help but smile.
“Just so…” he acquiesced, “Eventually I discovered that he was working for the enemy. I fought and… killed him. Or so I thought…”
“What happened?” she asked, instinctively reaching for his arm and he did not shy away from her touch.
He hesitated, not willing to horrify Lizziewith all the gruesome details of how he hunted and burned Finn – or rather thought he did – two centuries before.
“There were two Changelings protecting Triarell here in Glennloch: Alasdair Stewart and Finn MacTaggart. When Triarell was killed, we found Alasdair’s body, but MacTaggart disappeared, confirming my suspicions that he was working for the Dreams Thief. I hunted him, but the bastard evaded detection for forty years. Finally, I found his trail in the Orkney Islands. We fought for hours and frankly, I thought I was going to die…”
Her fingers squeezed his hands almost painfully.
“Oh my God, Brun…”
His gaze zeroed on the tears swimming in her eyes and it took him more strength than he thought possible not to kiss her.
To avoid temptation he stood up and went to the other side of the room.
“Finn was not in better shape,” he assured her, not out of a silly male pride, but simply to allay her distress, “He sought refuge in an abandoned monastery, and I saw my chance: I sealed the building and set the whole place on fire. I was sure he had not escaped,” he concluded, and then gestured meaningfully to his laptop, “Clearly I was mistaken,” he combed his hair with his fingers, “For two hundred and fifty years I believed that after killing Triarell, the Dreams Thief had returned to the Otherworld, but if he is trapped here as Aranna told you, and Finn is not dead as I thought…”
“It is just a matter of putting two and two together…” she whispered, terrified.
“What better way to keep his identity a secret than hiding in plain sight, however cliché that sounds…” he went on, “Pretending to be a Changeling, he gained access to Glennloch and that is how he targeted the Endellys sisters one by one! I assumed he was one of the Dreams Thief’s minions, it never occurred to me that–”
“But why did he approach me? Why did he…” she pushed a knot down her throat, unable to complete that thought, “Why didn’t he kill me six years ago?”
She watched Brun’s jaws tense.He crossed his arms over his naked chest and for a moment her gaze was fixed on a particularly nasty scar he had right under his left nipple. A sharp blade, she would wager. It was a miracle he had not died of that wound.
Not a miracle, magic.
“I do not know the answer to that question,” his voice brought her eyes back to his face, “My best guess is that he wanted to ascertain for himself whether or not you inherited Triarell’s power.”
“God!” she cried again, “Are you saying that he hook up with me just to check if I had any magic?”
He flinched. Clearly he did not know what was worst: that his mortal enemy had sex with her or confirming that his mortal enemy had sex with her only to prove a point…
She did not know which one was worst either.
“Whatever his motivations,” Brun spoke, snapping her back to what was truly important, “He has managed to get very close to you twice under my very nose. I will not be strong enough to defeat Finn with whatever magic I have left, and then you…” he paused, taking a deep breath, “Right now, we’re almost as much in the dark as we were before on how to defeat him. I cannot take any chances with your safety.”
Lizzie stared at him blankly, not knowing how to reply, because in that moment, Brun was a patchwork puzzle.
He was a man in pieces, who survived torture, battles and centuries of loneliness over a lie that lasted for a thousand years, and yet he had never seen more whole to her. He was a warrior from the past, one she could have only visualised in her imagination, who had come to life out of the books she loved and was standing right there, ready to die for her.
He would literally die for her right now.
Shit had never been more real.
However, she was no damsel in distress to swoon and wait to be rescued.
Suddenly her anger took a life of its own.
“No!” she said.
No, she bellowed and Brun blinked at the strength of her voice.
“Lizzie…” he tried, but she ignored him, taking a step closer.
“No,” she repeated more firmly, poking a finger at his chest, “You don’t get to take this burden on your shoulders by yourself. That’s enough of that!”
“Lizzie, your voice…” he warned.
Using her magic voice had not been a conscious act. The power had simply surged through her and it made her feel more confident.
“I know,” she replied impatiently, “I am not trying to use it on you, but you must understand once and for all that you’re no longer a slave of the Endellys. You’re your own person. You’re free to make your choices but you do not choose for me! I know I cannot avoid the Dreams Thief or Finn or whatever is his name, but I will not sit here and watch you sacrifice yourself to save me! We will fight together, Brun, for better or worse. I will not allow you to die for me! I am setting you free!”
Brun stared at her, gobsmacked. She was glorious, majestic even, albeit in nothing but her sleeping T-shirt, with her little toes curled over the woollen rug of his bedroom. None of the Endellys sisters had seem this powerful to him, not even Triarell.
And then, something else happened.
He felt light-hearted as if a great weight had been taken off his chest. Gasping, he brought his hand to his face. Something was different…
With shaking fingers, he held his ring and pulled.
It came right out.
Brun stared at it for a long time in disbelief. She had broken it. Lizzie had broken Fayla’s bond. He belonged only to himself for the first time in his life.
He raise his gaze to her, “How?” he forced the word out through the knot in his throat.
Her eyes were locked on his hand, and she appeared to be as shocked as he was. She had not planned to break the bonding spell.
“I… I don’t know…” she voiced his conclusions, then she lifted her gaze to him, “But it doesn’t matter… That’s what I wished for… You’re free. You owe me no allegiance or any other similar nonsense. You are the master of your own destiny.”
Like a child, he slid the ring in and out of his finger a few times, not believing it was actually true. The mark of the ring was several tones lighter than his skin.
He was truly free. He could age and die in any way he chose.
Lizzie took another step closer and placed both hands on his chest. Brun held his breath. Her face was wet with tears.
“I don’t know either. I don’t know whether what I feel for you is real or the product of this weird magic bond between us, but right now, right this very moment, I would rather die with the dream that this inside me is real than face my life, however long or short it may be, with an empty heart.”
Her words struck him like daggers, making his heart bleed when he did not think it was possible for it to bleed anymore, yet instead of weakening him, it felt as if poison was being drained away from a festered wound.
Then Brun looked at her. Really looked into her Endellys eyes, past the tears, the hurt and his fears. Past all magic, prophecies and centuries of deceit and saw only her. Not Lizzie, not Triarell”s doppelganger, but this woman’s very soul, her very essence and that was when a bubble burst into his head and everything finally became clear.
Lizzie was his true and only soulmate. The most desperate desire of his heart.
He would love her till all there was ceased to be.
“Thank you, Lizzie,” he replied finally, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “For setting me free.”
He held her face with both hands and his lips found hers, but it felt like it was the first time. Her taste was familiar and yet it felt new, and unexplored.
His arms wrapped around her body and Lizzie surrendered to his embrace, melting against his body. She did not know yet, she had not yet realised the truth, but she would.
He would show it to her.
Brun lifted her sleeping garment over her head and kneeled in front of her, his lips latching to her breast and heavens save him, because he could feel her pleasure as his own. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. He slid his hand inside her underwear, finding her on fire and he moaned when she did.
Knowing he would not last another second at that pace, he hauled her in his arms and carried her to his bed, dropping his ring on the floor on his way.
This time, he was not just answering to the urges of his body. He was not just consuming her, like a starving man. This time it was about giving himself to her.
He wanted to give everything to Lizzie, his body, his heart and his soul, because for the first time in five hundred years, they were truly his to give.
And when Lizzie cried his name as he thrusted inside her, Brun swore to himself he would show her the truth.