Autumn Moon (22 page)

The night air carried the scent of old power and winter-cold earth. There was no snow on the ground as there was back home, but the dampness in the air penetrated worse. Surrounded by a stone wall, Hochmead Manor sat nestled within mountains. For a country flocked with sheep, none of them roamed the open field outside the gates, knowing to stay clear of humans saturated with the scent of wolves. Cormack watched from the forest beyond the field. He counted thirty guards or more positioned behind the gated stone wall, and suspected twice that within.

Luc stepped beside him, followed by Dylan, then Teyrnon, Cadan—and Merin too. Elen's mother had been with Dylan and refused to stay behind. They made a formidable line in the shadows of the forest, including a former Council member, but not as daunting as the guards who scanned the area from behind the stone wall.

Shifters all, he knew, and Guardians by choice. Allegiance to the Council. They followed the orders of the most dominant wolf.

“We can't cross the field without being seen,” Teyrnon spat. The Norseman had readily agreed to return with Cormack, his hatred of the Guardians as pure as his. The man's mate was married to a Council member whose castle resided not far from these lands. Briallen chose to remain with her Guardian husband instead of her mate. There was a vile history there that Teyrnon refused to speak of. How the man tolerated the separation, or the betrayal, Cormack didn't know.

“There is a door that leads here from Hochmead,” Merin offered. She wore snug brown pants and a matching top, with her blond hair tucked under a brown cap. The only bright object she carried was her sword. He saw Elen in her features, and it made his heart ache every time. “The tunnel runs under the field, but Pendaran keeps its location unknown to everyone except a select few. I am not one of them; I only know it exists. But it is our best chance for entry around the guards. If there are floors below, the tunnel will lead us there quicker than storming the gates.”

A sharp sound pierced the night, one he hadn't heard since leaving Elen's cottage. He frowned in the direction from which it had come. “Let us search. If nothing is found in one hour, I will go straight to the front gates.”

“That isn't wise,” she returned with a heated glare. “I will not have my daughter's mate dead before we get her out. We will search, and we will find the entrance. Let's separate to cover more ground and circle back in fifteen.”

“Agreed.” Her willingness to believe that Elen was within Hochmead and not dead kept him silent. Once he was alone, a winter wren flitted to a nearby branch. His suspicion
proved true when a cloud shimmered and Ms. Hafwen emerged.

She made a sharp squeak as wet frigid air coated tender dragonfly wings. “Let me speak, Cormack. I don't have much time here. I was forbidden from returning.”

“I'm grateful you found a way,” he said.

“Well,” she clipped. “It took me telling the high courts to kiss my feathered arse. There is a reason I should not be involved. I will help you find Elen, no more, and then I must return.”

He didn't waste time. “Do you know of a passage from this forest to the manor?”

“Yes. I will—” Her voice broke as shivers dislodged her from the branch. He caught her in his hands as she fell. “I will show you the way.” She returned to her winter form in his cupped palms and flitted from branch to branch as he followed her trail.

The forest was different here, tilted at a different angle from the sun, and it grew less wild. A sharp song pierced the air at the end of a trodden trail. He expected a statue, or marker formed of rocks, but was led to a flat surface covered by brambles. Kicking the earth with his boot returned a hollow sound.

Ms. Hafwen shifted back to issue terse instructions. “This is it. I have learned this passage leads to six doors made of iron. The servants whisper of a dragon at the bottom, but I know it is our Elen.”

“I can find her from here,” he told her then. “You should leave.” Black had begun to edge around her wings. “Do you have far to travel?”

“Another gateway has grown nearby.” Her voice echoed the sad song of a lute. “It was a gift from a pure heart who is drowning in darkness. Bring her home, Cormack. This is
not your greatest battle to come, nor is Pendaran your only enemy. Remember that and prepare.”

“Until next spring.” He placed a fist over his heart in both farewell and promise. “When we meet again.”

“Make it so.” A parting chirp followed her words as she returned to the gateway between their worlds, wherever that may be.

A thud warned of a traveler in the tunnel. Cormack crouched in the shadows, watching the earth rise and a small form surface. A blond woman scanned the area. Her scars marked her as a slave, but her fear marked her as a potential guide. He waited until she closed the door before lunging from his hidden position.

“Make one noise and you will die.” He had his sword at her throat before she could scream. “I am mate to Elen, daughter of Merin. I know she is in Hochmead. Bring me to her and I will let you live.”

Pale in the cold night, her chin lifted as blue eyes met his. Fear bled to courage as she found her voice. “Will you kill Pendaran if I do?”

“Without question,” he growled.

*   *   *

The key opened her shackles but not the door. Elen leaned her forehead against the cold iron as shudders racked her body in frustration and fear. When the sounds of visitors began, she rushed back to the bed and replaced the shackles, keeping them unlocked and hiding the key within reach. What punishment did Pendaran have planned for him to return so soon? Knowing the first moments of light blinded her, she would wait and let her eyes adjust until he drew near—and then lunge without restraints. Her heart raced as she prepared to fulfill her earlier threat. Never had
she thought to use her gift with malevolent intent, but she knew then she would, as she had once for her nephew. To be free, she must.

Fire was the first thing she saw when the door opened. It flashed like a match set to fuel when it entered her room. Someone screamed and dropped the torch, but it blazed high from the floor. The servant woman who had escaped held her arm against her chest as dark silhouettes skirted around the flames.

“Sweet Mother,” someone whispered as they drew closer to her. Was that Teyrnon's voice? She couldn't see features; all she could do was squint against the light.

And then a growl came, and it was so pained and familiar she collapsed as tremors became uncontrollable shakes, rendering her hands useless as she tried to claw at her restraints. “Cormack,” she cried, but her voice was hoarse and her swollen tongue garbled the words. The tears were uncontainable. “They're unlocked. Help me.
Please . . .
”

His hands shook as well, gentle until the iron was cast aside. With a sob, warm arms enclosed around her, dragging her from the bed as his face buried into her neck. “Elen . . .” His throat was clogged as if it pained him to speak. “I thought I lost you.” He repeated the words again and again as he rocked her in his arms. “I thought I lost you.”

She felt wetness on her neck. “Never,” she whispered as he lifted her. Cradled in his embrace, he carried her past Dylan, Luc and then her mother. She had to blink against the light but knew it was them. Cadan was there as well, his eyes wide in horror as they traveled the state of her condition, lingering on the black bruises that circled her wrists.

Her brothers crowded her and Cormack, wrapping their arms around anywhere they could. Merin even found her hand. It was a group embrace of consoling relief, and she
knew she was blessed beyond measure. Her family was her greatest gift. When their gazes lifted, they exchanged similar looks filled with deadly purpose.

“He's dead,” Cormack vowed as he carried her out of a hell now kindled with fire. As the final door was breached, she tucked her face into his chest. Still inside the manor but lit by electric lamps and sconces. Like she was looking directly into the sun, the light burned her eyes.

Another tunnel followed, this one rich with life and close to nature. Elen breathed in its richness and savored the taste of pure air. They entered a forest cast in shadows, kinder on her eyes than the other fake light.

“I'm going back in,” Cormack told her. “Luc and Cadan are staying here with you until we return.”

Denial gripped her chest. She just wanted to go home. “Cormack—”

“It ends tonight,” he said, handing her over to Luc's open arms. Before he parted, Cormack cupped her face in his palms. “This is
not
happening again. I'll never survive it a second time. That monster needs to die.”

“Then let me come with you,” she pleaded.

“No.” The finality of his tone defied argument. “You can barely talk, and you couldn't even look into the light of electric lamps. You're not going back to entrapment behind stone walls. Stay here, where I know you're protected and where I know you can defend yourself if necessary.”

His logic forced her to accept his decision. “He's weakened,” she managed around the thickness of her tongue. “Mae cursed him. He feels my pain.”

“Good.” A slow smile spread across Merin's face. “We will use that to our advantage.”

“Return to us,” Luc ordered, settling them both against a tree and not releasing his hold. Cadan removed his jacket
and tucked it around her bare legs. She could sense their wolves wanted to return with the others, but they were not willing to leave her alone.

“Lead the way,” Cormack said to the servant woman.

She turned toward Elen first, blue eyes shining. “My name,” she said, “is Leri.”

“Leri,” Elen whispered, remembering a childhood friend with the same name and coloring. “Thank you for . . . for everything.” They had shared a chamber as children when Merin had been called to serve the Council. Leri had been abused even then. “I remember you. I thought you had been killed.”

“The whispers say the same about you,” Leri returned. “But I remember you as well.” She shook her head. “You never listened even then, always sneaking to the witch's cottage.”

The memory that came to mind was not of Mae, but was sad nonetheless. Taliesin had come to their bedchamber to execute the man responsible for Leri's abuse. He'd told them stories as they waited. Leri had huddled on the bed, hiding her face in blankets, while Elen had watched. It had been the first time she'd seen the Serpent of Cernunnos used against a Guardian. Sophie now wielded the weapon with the same precision.

“We are all grateful for your help, Leri.” Dylan broke their reunion by waving her forward. “You're welcome to return with us to Rhuddin Village when this is over. But before we can leave, I need you to show us to Pendaran's chamber, if that is indeed where he is.”

“I accept your offer, but I will only give you directions,” Leri said, gesturing toward the manor flanked with guards. “You are less vulnerable to their swords. If you lose and I'm left within”—she paused to shiver—“it will not be a kind death for me. I am staying here with Elen.”

“Come,” Merin said, walking ahead. “I know where his
chambers are.” No one asked her how, because some answers need not be known.

Elen waited until they disappeared back into the tunnel before crawling out of Luc's lap. “Pendaran not only feels my pain,” she said to their questioning looks, “but if affects him much worse.” She removed Cadan's jacket and handed it to him. Her hands shook as she tried to untie her covering. Leri helped her remove it, as she'd done many times over the last few weeks.

Luc was already shaking his head; his silver eyes were sharp in the night. “What are you doing?”

“Getting cold. Trust me. I will stay like this as long as I can stand without causing myself true damage.” Nature supported her plan, dropping below normal temperature for this time of year. Elen lay nude on the frozen ground, letting the frost coat her skin and seep into her bones. “I can't help them inside the stone walls, but I can help them another way from here.” Soon the burning began. Frostbite became dangerous when there was no pain, when blood left extremities to protect central organs. When that happened, she would return to the warmth of her brother's arms and Cadan's coat, but not before.

As the burning became sharp tingles, she looked up to the sky. It was a clear night filled with stars. She could not move to dance, nor was she ready to forgive until Cormack was safe, but Maelorwen's last words wove a path around her heart nonetheless.

And not for the first time, she wondered who Mae's daughter was, and where she might be.

Cormack had never removed a person's head. He had trained for it, of course, but never executed it in reality. He removed eight on his way to Pendaran's chambers without regret. The first one was a clumsy ordeal, the second one better, and the ones that followed swift and sure. The image of Elen in that stone cell fueled his purpose. Forever imprinted in his mind, with her body tangled in chains, pale and hiding her face from light. Anyone who willingly followed the man responsible deserved to die.

They made it to the top floor without detection, but once the clang of swords echoed through the halls, the guards swarmed to their leader's defense. Dylan fought at the end of the corridor; none had yet to breach his area.

Teyrnon did the same at the top of the stairs. “Get it done,” he called. “They've sounded an alarm.”

Blood coated his clothes, some of it his, but most of it
theirs, as Cormack approached the guard posted by the door to Pendaran's chambers. The man raised his weapon, readied his stance, leering at Cormack, only to lose his head by Merin's sword. A brown blur and a circular glint marked her strike.

The chamber door opened without resistance, its occupant too arrogant to keep it locked. Or so he'd thought, until Cormack halted in the threshold, pausing to fully grasp what he saw.

The leader of all Guardians lay on his back within the canopy of his ornate bed. Like a fallen monarch in his final hour, he gasped for air. Black rings circled his wrists and bled to violet bruises beyond his elbows. His hands formed disjointed claws like a corpse in ice. Convulsions shook his body. Blood trickled from his mouth, turning his teeth red as he snarled at Merin's approach.

“Did you think you could meddle with a witch's daughter without consequences?” Merin asked. “Or mine?” Her tone lowered with menacing intent. “That is what you did, is it not? Saran never died. You kept her. You kept her until you had a use for her. I can think of no other reason for Mae's betrayal.”

She spoke of events that came from a shared history that obviously included Maelorwen's daughter. Dear Gods, was Saran the black Bleidd?

Pendaran kicked out and arched, a wail of rage sending pink spittle into the air.

Undaunted, Merin leaned over him. “True strength comes from what we are willing to sacrifice for the ones we love. You have forgotten our ways, twisted them for your own gains. I always knew it would be your downfall in the end.”

A gurgle rose from Pendaran's throat as he fought to
speak. “Not just
my
downfall,” he rasped. “Not just
my
end.” His body clenched, contorted by chills and fragmented laughter. “Who will control the Guardians?
You?
” Even when facing death, he mocked. “You will make this war unstoppable. There will be no sides, only wolves seeking dominance. The end of our kind has begun.”

Cormack had not come here to talk, or to gloat, but to do a job and leave. Pushing Merin aside, he reared his sword high and removed Pendaran's head in one firm stroke. Enforced by adrenaline and resolve, his weapon embedded into the mattress, passing through flesh and bone, and sending up a cloud of feathers coated in blood.

“It's done,” he said to her raised eyebrow. Floating feathers gently landed on Pendaran's dislodged head and torso like snow. Finished without preamble, Cormack nodded to the door. “Let's get back to Elen.”

“My daughter has chosen well,” was all she said. An ancient weapon covered in bleached vines woven into Celtic knots rested beside Pendaran's torso on the bed, along with Cadarn encased in a similar sheath, only formed of metal.

Merin took both from her dead enemy's side.

*   *   *

Elen felt the moment of Pendaran's death like an easing of an unseen weight as the curse unraveled. “He's passed over.” His malevolence hovered above, watching her from the spirit world, and then nothing.

“We're not out of here yet.” Luc crouched just behind the buffer of trees, pointing toward the horizon. “The guards are blocking the exits, more have flanked the side.”

Cadan wrapped his coat around Elen and began to lift her from the ground, but she pushed him away. “Stand back,” she warned. “I am about to call my weapon.” Now that
Pendaran was dead, there was no reason for her not to heal herself and fight the guards outside the stone walls. Having seen her in action, Cadan didn't argue, nor did her brother.

The forest was strong here, and it knew her from childhood, when she played and laughed and gathered herbs with Mae. She reached out as a woman grown, feeling the old roots gnarled underground, dormant for winter but not dead. Air brushed through their hidden spot, excited to join, sending a sharp wind that whistled through bared branches, waiting patiently to learn her new game.

She called Earth first, the element that had accompanied her from the beginning. The ground began to melt and turn soft as its energy hummed along her skin. Her muscles relaxed and warmed as she thawed along with the grounds around her. It fed her body and began to heal her injuries. Her tongue burned as skin knitted and reformed, and wrists and ankles healed as well. Restored and vibrating from energy, she stood.

Leri tilted her head in curiosity but didn't run, perhaps sensing her best chance of survival was with them.

“Here,” Cadan insisted this time, helping her with his jacket and zippering it up the front. “I have a feeling this is going to be a wild ride.” The jacket smelled like leather and the musk of a powerful wolf; it fell to mid-thigh.

“I'm going to step out of the forest,” she told them. “Stay back or stay close.”

Leri stayed back, while Luc and Cadan flanked her sides. They walked in plain view, crossing the field. A guard shouted, and others followed; a few spilled from the gates and began to approach.

“Pendaran is dead. Let our comrades pass or you will follow his fate,” she called across the field. “Back away from the doors and let the others leave.”

She heard voices rise in argument and dissension, and then several growls as guards shifted. Once in the center of the field, Elen opened her arms wide and raised her face to the sky, offering every emotion she felt for her family inside. Air and Earth gathered in a furious joining much like the one at her cottage, and she let the vortex surge uncontained. In her mind's eye, she pictured it circling the manor. It spread wide, sucking up rocks and debris from the field in its path, encroaching past the gates.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Cadan muttered by her side.

One guard held a torch that blazed high into the wind, fed by its sibling elements. Wind and flames became a destructive shield. Screams followed; shouts and cries of wounded wolves. Finally they withdrew, accosted with a power greater than theirs. Without Pendaran leading his guards, chaos erupted. Many ran, others shouted for everyone to clear out. Servants and guards poured from windows and doors, escaping behind the manor.

Elen held her stance but almost faltered when Cormack staggered through the gate, followed by Dylan. Teyrnon carried Merin in his arms. The unraveling could have gone smoother, she admitted, but it didn't cause the damage she feared. The forest shook as the tumult spread wide.

She held her ground until the wind lessened to a gentle breeze and the fires reduced to smoldering smoke in the dry field. The manor remained standing but scorched black with dust and soot. Earth settled back into its winter slumber. A hundred warriors, maybe less, watched from a distance. Their wounds bled into the field as they headed toward the forest to shift. She sensed that others had fallen to their deaths within and watched as they began to fight each other.

It was time to leave.

A breath rushed out of Luc as if he'd been holding it the whole time. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

“A very dear friend.” Elen looked to the manor. “I hope the servants escaped unharmed.”

Luc turned her toward the woods. “I would say they knew a better exit.” A line of
Hen Was
formed along the trees, drawn together as they watched the fall of their imprisonment.

Teyrnon placed Merin on the ground. Blood ran down her side, and a long slash crossed her face where a guard had tried to remove her head but failed. “This is only the beginning,” she warned. “Maelor lives but an hour north. He will be here soon, and then the others will be informed. Pendaran controlled the Council. Even with his twisted ambitions, he always remained loyal to Taliesin. The others will not, and they will ravage each other for control. Without Pendaran's intervention . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Dark will always balance light,” Elen said. “One does not exist without the other.”

“You are the balance, my daughter.” Merin handed her swords to Elen, lifting her hand to the cropped ends of her hair with thinned lips.

The ancient weapons hummed in Elen's grasp, and she felt the Great Oak answer from the forest, sending temptation down her spine in a whispering caress of otherworldly energy. Nerth and Cadarn; with both their masters departed, they sought another to wield their power. Buds formed on the bleached vines of Nerth, opening like spring's first leaves. Dead wood sloughed off like a serpent's skin as green shoots emerged. Vines wove into a new scabbard made of a living braid. Cadarn, even while encased in iron, reacted to the rebirth of its twin; jewels on its hilt glowed like rainbow embers kissed by the wind.

Elen hadn't orchestrated this healing. No, this power
came from a world beyond her grasp. It arose as a request, not a gift. She was not meant to be the master of these ancient weapons, but perhaps their keeper—and their protector. For a while, at least, until their rightful owners claimed them.

Merin smirked as if witnessing divine proof of her earlier proclamation. She turned to Luc and Dylan. “Protect your territories. I fear there are more dark times ahead.” The bleak warning cast a silence among her family. She stripped and shifted in the open field as the men formed a shield. It was a graceful dance of human flesh to golden fur. Soon her howl pierced through the night sky; it was a cry of both victory and sadness.

“We will worry about that another day.” Cormack gathered Elen in his arms. “For now, I'm taking you home.”