Firebrand (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kubla greeted the dawn of the Triad in the flat expanse of forest not far from small fairy village. Bared to the waist, the muscles of his chiseled chest and abdomen rippled with the exertion when he sliced through the air with his sword, then whirled around to block the thrust of a nonexistent enemy. Sweat ran down his chest, trailing a dewy path across the angular definition of his well-honed body. The muscles in his arms corded with the strain of wielding the heavy sword in his hands. He stepped forward, careful to balance his weight as he swung the sword over his head. The weapon seemed to sing when it divided the air with the force of the arc he made as he sliced it downward. With the precision of a surgeon, he stopped the tip of the blade mere inches from the ground.

Launching himself through the air, he cut through invented foes honing his technique on plausible assault moves and likely modes of attack. His body glistened in the rising sun as again and again he charged and evaded and slashed. He sprang forward, an incredible height and distance, his body twisting in the air. When he settled to the ground, he turned and swung high, only this time the unmistakable sound of metal meeting metal rang out steely and hard.

“Your form is good but your high strikes need work.”

An ardent smile began to curl his lips but he quickly controlled it. His chest rose in fell with exertion as his eyes caught sight of feminine but powerful arms, strong and veined with the effort, to face of the woman who held her sword against his.

“Teezal. I thought you were preparing.” He jerked his wrist and brought his sword down in a sharp arc.

“I am,” Teezal replied, easily blocking the strike.

Their weapons neutral against each other, Kubla’s gaze roamed over her. The lace of the brown leather bodice she wore barely contained her. The muscles of her thighs rippled as she held her ground, drawing his eye to the curve of her hip, well molded in the bark colored leather pants that laced on the sides from knee-boot to waist.

She was the very thing that made him come here in the first place. Her unusual beauty and surly manner had accosted his mind the moment he’d held her in the hollow of the tree in the ice lands. Now here she was standing before him nearly naked, making his blood boil with sheer yearning. But there was no time for what was in his heart. Doom lay ahead for all of them if they could not stop the menace that would undo all worlds.

“We’ve a battle to win. If you think you can do better then you best show me what you’ve got.” He said, pulling back his sword and coming at her with all his force. Easily she caught every one of his swings, evading his thrusts and catching his blade with hers, He felt a pull that tightened his loins as she matched him move for move.

“No need to take it easy with me, warrior. Bring on your full attack,” she said thrusting her weapon forward and missing his face by inches as he sidestepped her.

Full attack indeed, if that were to happen she would already be on her back and in his arms. He pushed through her cross offense and waved his sword forward in a taunt that put more fire in her eyes. This time his smile broke free. Should they both survive the night, he would have that fire in his bed.

* * * * *

David had spent the entire night watching Amber sleep. She was so beautiful. Outside she was flawless. Hair the color of molten copper, eyes so vividly green that they could not be described by any words in any world. Creamy skin, idyllic body. Perfect.

Inside she was even more so. She would have walked across the Hades’ fire to save Marcus Drake. And he knew all too well she would walk across that same fire to save the souls of millions of people she didn’t know. It was part of why he loved her so.

He traced the curve of her shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he whispered knowing full well neither of them had a choice. Pain ripped through him. Why did love have to be so hard?

Other questions began to assault him. Would he actually let her go through with it, especially not knowing what would happen to their child if he did? Would she actually be able to do it not knowing the same?

There were no answers. Not yet.

He sighed. He knew he could not concentrate on what might have been. He needed to be focused and strong. For Amber.

“Been awake long?”

Amber’s voice shook David from his thoughts. “For a while,” he replied, careful to hide the any trace of fear that might color his voice. “How do you feel?”

“Let’s see,” she said tapping a forefinger on her chin. “Considering today consists of possible death, mayhem and the end of mankind, not too bad.”

Despite himself, David had to smile. “Full plate.”

“It’s my job.”

He took her hand in his so he could feel the softness of it. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed each one. Time was speeding away from them. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to hold Amber all through this day and into the night. And to the next night and the one beyond that. But it was not meant to be.

How could be let go of someone he loved so much. How would he possibly be able to stand by and watch her…

“Die.” She finished the thought for him.

“I almost forgot you could do that.”

“We have to go.”

“I know.” There was nothing else he could say.

* * * * *

Alara opened the door and ran into the great hall. The Mage stood by an open window looking at the sky. Is it true father? Brian McKenna is alive?”

Tolhram’s shoulders released their tenseness momentarily.

“Yes, my daughter.”

Alara’s legs could hardly hold her and she leaned against one of the ornate columns for support. “How could I not have known? We had chosen each other. We were bound.”

“Soon after your auras connected, the trolls took him. Gorash imprisoned him in the ice caves these past twenty-five years. The search for the Sword of Shadows was all that kept him alive. When he found it, he kept it hidden from them until the time he was saved.”

“Where is he?”

“At a place near the Triad altar.”

A silver tear rolled down Alara’s pale cheek. “Take me to him.”

* * * * *

Brian McKenna swept back the tent flap and looked across the once lush plain where the legions led by Sean McTavish had camped waiting for the sign that the Eve of Annihilation would begin. The wind blew across the dry fields, yet the mist covering them did not move. Bending, he picked up a blade of grass that crackled and fell apart between his fingers. The flowers were withering and the usual sounds of nature had stilled. Not a bird, nor a bee could be heard. The sky was gray as gun metal, with broiling clouds that rolled like ocean waves.

But even this could not keep his mind off one fact. He had a daughter. The child of his body was a grown woman and he’d never known she had even existed.

And Alara. His beloved Alara. Did she think he had abandoned them? Tears formed in his eyes. So many years gone by. He never even heard his daughter’s voice, seen her smile or felt her touch.

But Marcus Drake had. That and much more. Marcus Drake had been the father he couldn’t be, Brian thought as he looked toward the tent in which Marcus slept. A slash of bitterness creased his brow.

“The air feels thick in the lungs this morning. The land prepares for what is to come.”

Brian whirled around and saw Sean sitting on a stump smoking a long handled pipe. “The air of my homeland is sweet to me.”

“Ye have come home to a terrible plague on the land. Crops wither in the field and there is no food for the children. But your homecoming reminds us of the prophecy and gives us hope.”

Brian scoffed at the thought. “Hope is something I let go of years ago.”

“I know what you’re thinking lad and it will do you no good to dwell on something that cannot be changed.”

“You have no idea what’s going on in my mind,” Brian said, his shoulders slumping.

“You think not? My boy, what’s happening is bigger than you or me, or the realization about something that you had no idea existed.”

“I have a daughter and a stranger got to raise her, someone she called Da. He got to tuck her away in her wee bed, dry her tears and protect her.”

Sean glanced toward a jagged slash of lightening that sliced through the sky. Thunder rolled in the distance. “We have a role in this, laddie. Yours was the most important of all. You gave life to the one person who could put an end to all the madness.”

“Like a stud horse.” Brian spat out the words, anger in his voice.

“Careful with your bitterness, lad. It could damn your soul.”

Brian’s back became ramrod straight. “Why shouldn’t I be bitter? You have a family, a wife to comfort you at night, children you watched grow.”

Sean tapped the bulb of his pipe on the soul of his shoe, emptying the spent tobacco. “Aye, that I do.” He set the pipe on the ground and rolled back the sleeve on his left arm. On the inside of his skin just above the crook of his elbow was a circle with three smaller circles nestled inside. “But I also had a blood oath,” he said thrusting his arm forward. “I could no more deny what I had to do, than could you.”

A frown creased Brian’s brow.

“’Tis the sign of the three. A charge passed down through blood from the time before time began. All male children of the bloodline are honor bound to protect the Sword of Adam with their lives, if necessary and wait until the time came when all the signs would manifest themselves and the Triad would begin.”

Brian reached out and traced the pattern on Sean’s arm with his forefinger. “It feels odd. Almost like a separate living thing.”

“That it does,” Sean agreed. “Ye get used to the feeling. The mark appears on the third day of life and disappears with death.” He shoved his sleeve back down. “I’ve seen it happen. Me uncle and me nephew shed their blood in preparation for this time.”

Brian struggled to maintain his patience. “Just don’t go along with it then.”

“And then what? Let evil win and take over?” Sean shook his head. “Nay. Couldn’t. Honor bound, is honor bound until the day the breath leaves a man’s body for good. Me father did it, his father before him and those what came before back to the time of the fall.”

“So your family is cursed then.”

“Not cursed. Blessed,” Sean said quickly. “Our destiny is bound to the light, to goodness. There is no better quest than that.”

Brian let out a long breath of air. “I don’t even know if I believe everything you’re saying.”

“But you must believe.”

“Why?”

“Because you set in motion the way to save us all and you will help it come to pass. And I will help you but before any more time passes between us, there is more to know.” Sean closed his eyes. “I was the one,” he said opening them, his gaze locking with Brian’s. “I was the one who led Marcus Drake to Everwood. It was my destiny to bring him to the glade. Just as it was your destiny to have a daughter, it was his destiny to raise her.”

The two men stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Brian found the strength to speak. “Twenty-five years,” he whispered, emotion choking his voice. “For twenty-five years I labored in that desolate, frigid place, alone with nothing but those hideous creatures to torment me. Oh I tried to escape them. Killed at least a dozen that first day. But they eventually used lack of food and water to weaken me. Then came the torture. Days and nights filled with unspeakable pain. But none of it compares with the anguish that fills me now when I think of a child I never knew I had.

Sean clasped a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Aye. A pain so deep, it will never ease. A pain I well know.”

“How could you?”

“Me first-born carries the sign of the three. It is he who will bring the Guardian of the Triad to her destiny.” Brian’s chest heaved and sadness darkened his face. “While all be waitin’ for a new beginning, I be countin’ down the days to my son’s end.”

“And you know this for certain?”

“I knew from the day he was born.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

In the area the locals called the Tainted Depths, Gorash paced his lair. Built before the time of recorded history, this inner sanctum is both a monument to the unspeakable one who caused the fall and a massive breeding ground for trolls and their blendings. Orcs, ogres, goblins, phantoms, legions of demonic agents, all preparing for the beginning of their time. Under his command, his elemental minions wait for the opening of the portal and the command to attack.

Still in the body of Eric Sinclair, Gorash’s mind spun with the horrors of past deeds and the new terrors he planned to unleash once the army of light was defeated and the Triad crushed. He arched his back in response to the burning pain that resided between his shoulder blades at the spot Amber had imbedded the syringe. She would be his greatest conquest.

He ran his hand along the walls of the cave, smiling at the skulls lodged in the rock. The hollow eyes looked back at him, the souls of those he had taken still imprisoned in the bone. Would she give her life to save them? Or would her troll blood boil, heating her mind and bringing her back to him?

Drums echoed through the dank tunnels, pounding a staccato beat that set his nerves on edge. The drums changed rhythm when a scout returned, their messages adding information to the battle plan.

He walked to the door, guarded by an ogre foreman. “Summon Jolinax,” he commanded. Then, spinning on his heels, he strode to his throne. There he sat askew and waited.

For a moment he lost track of time and space. Sensations coming from his body were mixed. Awash with a sea of memories, he was hardly aware of which were human and which was troll as the time of The Taking drew nearer.

The sensations flashed by. He felt the pleasure of the body at the hands of Barbara, the frustration at seeing the fae take control of the Guardian, the joy of a glimpse of his reflection as Eric Sinclair in a mirror and rage at the failure of his horde to secure the swords.

Somewhere in the progression he sensed something anomalous, something he never thought he would feel. Deep inside, in a place so secret he seldom knew of it, he found a small hidden measure of fear. As his mind touched it, it moved almost of its own volition, gathering and swirling into a vortex that threatened to split him in two.

He rose and paced, trying to block the feeling. Had he been one of them so long, that human emotions lingered? The humiliation of it all. He was Gorash. King of the Trolls. Soon to be King of the Universe.

Jolinax entered with his head bowed. “Your majesty”

“Bring me more of the elixir. My skin crawls!” his loud voice boomed. He kicked out, catching the creature in the stomach. The servant let out a thick groan and fell to his knees.

“There is no more,” Jolinax’s voice said in reply. “During the scuffle at the castle, the vials were broken. We found them next to your still form.”

Gorash grabbed him by the throat, lifted him off the ground and squeezed. He smiled at the general of his armies as his thick fingers tore at the hand holding his throat and gasped for air. “If you had not been such a thick lummox, I would have her and all I needed.”

“Master,” Jolinax croaked, his eyes bulging, “we will have her at the Triad.” He motioned to an opening in the cave wall. “See the might of our world for yourself.”

Gorash opened his hand, snarling as Jolinax fell to the cave floor. While on his hands and knees he dared not raise his eyes as he sucked in air, his chest heaving.

“For your sake, it better be so,” Gorash hissed, taking a sidelong glance at his fallen general. He stepped onto the ledge outside the cave opening and raised his hands. Slowly he looked from left to right, a satanic sneer growing on his lips. “Magnificent!” he shouted.

Jolinax crawled to him. “They have been gathering for days.” By tentative degrees, he stood, careful not to touch his master nor be totally seen by him. From the rampart outside the tower, Gorash could see the mighty armies below.

From the base of the mountain, they extended out like spikes on a wheel, trolls, orcs, ragers, goblins, ogres, sidhes, specters and more. All kinds of hideous blendings bred and borne just for this moment. As they began to take notice of the Master on the cave projection, each sect began its tribute, the pounding of orc chests, trolls smashing their spears on their shields, ogre clubs slamming the earth, the wail of the specters, the moans of the sidhes. The sounds rose, blending into a blood chilling tone that began to crack the ground on which they stood.

Pleased with the sight, the mordant laugh Gorash added to the rising battle song produced a resonance like none ever heard in heaven, on earth.

Or in hell.

* * * * *

“We both love her, Brian,” Marcus said pushing up the tent flap with his arm and stepping inside. “I know you resent me because I raised her and I am fearful that I will cease to exist for her once she learns of you.”

Brian stood firmly in the center of the tent, his arms crossed over his chest. “A quandary, we’re in.” He had regained much of his strength over the last few days but was not strong enough to make a stand here. He closed his eyes, wishing he could see the future. “As sure as I’m standing here, I will know my daughter.” He caught Marcus’ gaze head on. “Nobody will stop that. Not some end of the world fairy tale,” a muscle clenched along his jaw, “and not you.”

The message in Brian’s words ran clear. “If you want to kill me, you can try.”

Marcus said. “I can’t change what will be between us any more than you can change what is going to happen in a few hours.” He shook his head. “It’s not a fairy tale. Everything in the universe is changing. Realigning. First we make sure Amber stops it all from blowing apart. Then do what you must. I won’t stand in your way.”

Brian gave him a hard stare. “You’d do nothing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Love,” Marcus said without hesitation.

Brian smiled bitterly at the memories. “Love only destroys. Love is what set this horror in motion.”

Marcus shook his head. “No, love is what will save us. It is the only thing that can.” He walked to the tent flap. “All that time freezing in the ice, you thought it was your hatred of the trolls that kept you alive. It wasn’t. It was love.” He swept the flap open and stepped back outside. “Twenty-five years ago you seized your destiny. Trust in that decision now.” He let the tent flap fall.

For a moment, Brian stood silent, an avalanche of emotions washing over him, breaking free, tearing at the loneliness he’d harbored all these years until he finally understood. He ran to the tent flap and ripped it open.

“Wait!” He cried, ducking outside. He opened his mouth to call out again but could not. His breath caught as he saw the impossible. It couldn’t be, yet it was.

There before him stood his precious Alara.

He swallowed as his eyes filled with tears.

Hers overflowed. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” she whispered, opening her arms to him.

Brian couldn’t speak. Without thinking he pulled her close, buried his head against her neck and wept.

* * * * *

Sunset began to fall and with it thoughts of what would come rested heavily on Amber’s heart. She walked under the stone arch and out onto the ivy covered parapets of her grandfather’s castle. As she walked to the stone edge, her cloak fluttered around her in a breeze laced with premonition while above her the sky flashed with noiseless lightning.

She looked to the west. Beyond the white clustered huts and dried brown fields lay the Triad altar. She tugged the hood of the cloak down. A strand of burnished red hair, a blend of sunlight and fire, fell across her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled to quell the anxiety growing inside her. Once she stepped through the doorway that lay to her right to begin the ancient purification, the countdown to the purpose for which she was born would be all too real.

Slowly she walked through a thick mist to the heavy oak door. Just like the time that now seemed a lifetime ago, when she touched the doorknob, the air rippled. She watched as tiny electrical discharges moved between her hand and the metal.

“Your doubt breeds failure,” a voice behind her warned.

She raised her eyes as another flash lit the night. She thought Everwood was deserted. Everyone except the oldest fairy woman who would prepare her for the ritual had gone to the place of the Triad to await her.

“Who is there?” she asked, lowering her hand to her side.

“I have many names. For now, The Ancient will do.”

“Are you the one who will anoint me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I know your fears. Be assured they are unfounded.”

Amber glanced over her shoulder. Behind her the mist that once lay at her feet now had risen and taken the form of a man with an indistinct face but one heavily lined with age. “You know this for certain?”

“Nothing is ever certain. That is what gives the greatest joy. Look to the horizon. Tell me what you see.”

She turned her head to the setting sun. “I see the day dying.”

“Look deeper,” the Ancient One said, as above them, lightning arced illuminating the sky in black and gold.

Amber felt the need to obey the request. She lifted her chin and looked above her. “Stars,” she said. “The stars are appearing.”

“Yes, even as one light is extinguished, many others are lit. The way was set at the dawn of time.” The mist swirled around her in a caress. “Fulfill the prophecy, Child. Take that of his seed and save the future.”

Then just as quickly as it rose, the vapor shattered into golden dust and disappeared in the blowing wind.

Amber closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. As the pounding of her heart slowed, she found respite in the specter’s words. With renewed strength of spirit, she turned the handle and opened the chamber door.

The ritual room had been prepared in the old ways. Fires in tar barrels burned in corners of the stone walls. On the walls, masses of ropes dipped in tar hung in a heatless blaze in weblike patterns representing the elements. In front of them, water, in beads of diamond droplets, trickled down like a silvery curtain onto the earthen floor. When Amber stepped inside, a gentle wind blew around her, stripping the cape from her body, leaving her naked and ready for the cleansing to begin.

From behind her, a hand caressed her shoulder before lifting her hair and fastening it away from her neck. She knew the touch.

“David,” she whispered, turning to face him.

“I will prepare you,” he said, his tone husky but sad. He stepped around her. “I need this time with you if I am to be expected to…”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shh. I am ready to embrace what must be.”

Wordlessly he led her to the steps of the bath pool. He was also naked and she watched the hard-toned muscles of his back and thighs bunch as he descended the steps, rippling the water into endless concentric circles as he entered.

After waiting until the water stilled, he held out a hand to her. “Come, Keeper, let me wash the scent of three worlds from your body.”

The air heated around them setting the light in the chamber into pulsating ribbons of red and gold as Amber walked to the bath. The floor beneath her feet felt soft and when she looked down, she could see that petals of flowers had been strewn everywhere. She picked up rose petal and fingered its softness.

“Where did these come from?” she asked, bringing the petal to her nose and inhaling its delicate aroma.

“A gift in tribute to ease your journey from your fae brethren.”

Slowly she descended the bath steps. The water lapping over David’s stomach as she entered drew her attention to its chiseled form with the belly button indentation over which she had run her fingers and tongue. The memory of his salty taste stirred her, forcing her to take another small calming breath. As she stepped closer to him, she could see that his face and shoulders were covered in a fine sheen of sweat that glistened in the firelight presenting a very strong temptation for someone who was supposed to be focusing on saving the world.

“The water smells like lavender and spice,” she said softly skimming her hands across the surface to stir the scent.

He nodded, striding forward. “For protection.” He put his hands on her waist and guided her to the center of the bath pool. Looking only at her face, he dipped his cupped hands into the water. “Tip your head back,” he said in a voice barely a whisper.

When she complied, he lifted his hands above her and let the water flow slowly onto her head in a gentle trickle from his palms. Then, with slow movements, he let his hands move over her body. His fingers caressed as he worked his way across her shoulders, her collarbone, down her arms and across her breasts.

He moved around her, running his hands over her back, feeling her tense muscles beneath his touch. She was soft, yet strong, powerful but gentle, a fascinating mix of the bloodlines. He scooped more water into his hands and let it fall across her skin.

From behind, his fingers delved into the soft hollow of her throat. “Raise your arms,” he whispered into her ear.

She complied with his request, but slowly, as through her body was not in control. When her arms were fully extended, he reached up with both hands and grabbed her wrists. He heard her gasp when he moved his fingers down the soft flesh of the underside of her arms down to the depressions of her armpits, across the outer curves of her breasts until they rested on her waist. With his fingers maintaining contact with her skin, he circled her until he faced her, his breath mingling with hers.

She opened her eyes and stared at him from beneath wet, shiny lashes. “Finish it,” she said softly.

Lowering himself to his knees, David skimmed his hands down her hips. His fingers massaged the tight muscles of her buttocks. His hot breath caressed her stomach and he could not help but lean forward and place his lips on her skin, kissing both her and his child within. He rose, his arousal piercing the water. When he stepped closer to her, she widened her stance, allowing her thighs to encircle his need.