Ann Gimpel (29 page)

Travis looked down. His jaw worked. Aislinn figured he was struggling for control. “They just started killing us. Stopped our hearts where we stood.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and went on. “Some of us have stronger magic than others. We threw up wards and jumped out of there. Later, once we’d had a chance to think, we decided the best thing was to see if you’d help us. I volunteered to come here because my jumps are the most accurate.”

“What were your losses?” Gwydion asked.

“Twenty-something when I left. Probably more than that now.”

Travis dragged his gaze, brown flecked with his green power color, up off the floor and looked at each of them in turn. He settled on Aislinn last. Pleading shone from the depths of his eyes. “Please,” he said. “We need help.”

“And you’ll get it,” Aislinn snapped, outraged by what had happened. After shoving a goodly portion of the Earth’s population into that damned vortex, now the Lemurians were simply killing the rest of them outright. What had the vortex been? Something just for show?

“Hmph.” Gwydion grabbed his staff. “We were trying to figure out what to do next. Seems that decision has been made for us.”

Aislinn glanced at her skirt and sweater. “I need to change.” Spinning, she dashed for the bedroom, Rune right behind her. As she rifled through drawers, she was grateful Marta had been a bit of a clotheshorse. Snugging into dark green work pants with lots of pockets, she rolled the bottoms. Clean socks came right before she shoved her feet back into her boots. She eyed them for a moment. They really were in bad shape. She needed to find another pair—and soon.

She pulled a black long john top over her head and followed it with a thick green jacket made of something fuzzy and synthetic. It was cold here, and it would be cold where they were going. She rummaged through her rucksack, checking to make sure it still had everything she might need for contingencies. Her hand closed on her water bottle. It was empty, so she filled it at the bathroom sink.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, Fionn was back in battle leathers, hauberk, and vambraces. She wondered where he kept them when they weren’t on his back.
Sometime, I’ll just have to ask him.
Pulling cupboards and drawers open, she grabbed handfuls of nuts, dried fruit, and dried meat and stuffed them into a large pocket of her rucksack. Being half-starved hadn’t worked well for her in Arizona. She was damned if she’d make the same mistake twice.

“Are we going back near where I used to live?” she asked Travis.

“Yes. I sent the men an image of where we need to come out while we were waiting for you. Guess I’m going with him.” He pointed at Gwydion. “They didn’t think I’d be fast enough on my own.”

“How many jumps?” she asked Fionn.

“Maybe only one.” He smiled reassuringly at her, but worry flashed behind his eyes.

None of them had foreseen the Old Ones engaging in a direct frontal attack. It hadn’t been part of any equation they’d drawn. They’d viewed the Lemurians as relatively passive, without teeth, reliant on the dark gods to mastermind their destructiveness. Aislinn sucked in a breath. If they’d misjudged the Lemurians so badly, what other mistakes had they made?

An unpleasant truth intruded. She bit her lower lip and looked at Fionn. “Do you think the dark gods are behind this?”

“And who else?” Arawn growled. “News travels fast. They would have heard what happened to Slototh by now.”

“Aye, lass,” Bran muttered. “They’re out for revenge. The Lemurians owe them, and they’re calling in their chips.”

“Okay.” She clucked to Rune, slipped her pack straps over her shoulders, and buckled the waist belt. “I’m all set.”

Bella back on his shoulder, Fionn stepped to her side, sandwiching the wolf between them. Magic filled the air until it was hard to breathe. Linked to Travis and his civet, Gwydion was the first to leave. Arawn and Bran shimmered and disappeared.

“Ready?” Fionn asked.

She felt the thrum of the spell he held in check, waiting until everyone else was safely away.

“More than ready.” Aislinn tensed her jaws. “I hate the Lemurians. They killed my parents. If we have to blow through an entire army of them to get to the dark gods, it’s fine by me.”

The jump seemed to take longer than she expected. After a while, she couldn’t feel Fionn or Rune. It worried her. When darkness finally fell away, Aislinn saw the rubble of what was left of a city, except nothing looked familiar. She turned in a full circle before realization slammed her like a kick in the guts. Fionn and Rune weren’t with her. “What the hell?” she sputtered, calling for them.

A triumphant whoop turned her blood to ice. Travis stepped out of a gateway in the air, civet in his arms. “Damn! Didn’t think I’d be able to slip away from that Celt. Still not quite certain how I managed it.” He loped over and grabbed her arm.

Aislinn tried to pull away, but his fingers gripped like pincers.

“What did you do?” she cried, still trying to wrap her mind around Travis’s plea for help being nothing but a sham. “Where are Fionn and Rune?” She reached for her magic, intent on escape, but couldn’t latch onto it. The threads wouldn’t respond to her call. Fear clutched at her belly.

Travis’s lips curled into a snarl. “You’re human. You belong with us.”

“Yes.” Regnol, Travis’s Lemurian magelord, slithered out of the gateway Travis hadn’t closed off. “There’s the little matter of Metae’s death—and my other comrades your wolf slaughtered. You are coming with me.”

The Old One’s gaze shifted to Travis. “You have done well. You may go now.”

Horror filled her—and fury at Travis’s betrayal. She watched dumbstruck as he and the civet stepped through the gateway and were gone in a flash of blue-white light.

Her face an impassive mask, Aislinn turned to face Regnol and stared into his whirling, alien eyes. He already had her. There was no reason not to make eye contact. “Where are you taking me?” She forced a bravado she was far from feeling.

“Where else?” What passed for Lemurian laughter rasped like a saw blade attacking metal. “To Taltos.”

The End

The story continues in
Earth’s Blood

And is completed in
Earth’s Hope

Earth’s Blood

Book Two in the
Earth Reclaimed
Series

Releasing 2/7/2014 from Musa Publishing

Chapter One

F
ionn tumbled through a gateway and leapt to his feet. Something was decidedly wrong. The wolf and raven were right behind him, but he’d lost all sense of Aislinn’s presence in the traveling portal. It made him half-crazy with fear, but there was nothing he could do until the spell spit him out. Mouth dry, heartbeat thudding in his ears, he waited to see who would follow him out of the ragged hole he’d left in the ether.

For the love of the goddess, please let me be mistaken about this.

Rune emerged. A howl split the still air. “Where is she?” the black and gray timber wolf demanded. He reared up and plunked his paws on Fionn’s chest. “What happened to my bond mate? I cannot feel her anywhere.” He howled again. It was a mournful sound, full of grief.

Fionn wrapped his arms around the wolf, but Rune dropped to the ground, apparently not interested in comfort.

“Yes, where did Aislinn go?” Bella demanded, bouncing forward with her awkward avian gait.

Ever cantankerous, the raven was bonded to him, so Fionn was used to her moods. She spread her large wings, took to the air, and cawed her displeasure. He stared after her and struggled to manage a mounting sense of panic. His hands balled into fists. Both bond animals knew the truth: Aislinn had disappeared somewhere between Ely, Nevada, and wherever they were now. He barked a word to close off his magic. The place they’d rolled out of shimmered and disappeared.

He loosed a string of Gaelic curses. “What the fuck went wrong?” he muttered.

Fionn drew magic to augment his night vision and gazed wildly about for clues. They were in the midst of rubble that could well be Salt Lake City. So at least that part of his casting had been true.
No,
an inner voice corrected him,
I doona know that. This could be anywhere.
He shoved straggling strands of blond hair out of his eyes and sent his magic spinning outward to gather data. His heart beat a worried tattoo against his ribcage.

The air to his right took on a pearlescent hue. Bran and Arawn leapt through a portal in a flash of battle leathers, the snug-fitting garments indistinguishable from Fionn’s attire.

Arawn barked a command; their gateway winked shut. His midnight gaze scanned the small group. “Why is Gwydion not here?” he demanded. “He left afore any of us.”

Rune threw his head back. Another desolate howl split the night.

Bran’s coppery eyes narrowed. “Aye, and where is the lass?”

“And that Hunter scum, Travis,” Fionn growled. He spread his hands in front of him. “I havena felt Aislinn since a few moments after we entered the portal. Join your magic to mine so we might figure out what has happened.”

Bran nodded curtly. “Aye. Travis must have lied to us, but to what purpose?”

“To save his own sorry hide. What else?” Fionn snapped. “Or mayhap because he wanted Aislinn for himself.”

The air took on an iridescent waviness. Gwydion stumbled out of the odd-looking place. Tangled in a welter of blue robes, he clutched an intricately carved staff. Blond hair swirled around him. “Be gone, I say—Wait, what happened to—?” He took in the tableau as he lurched unsteadily to his feet.

Fionn could almost hear wheels turning as Gwydion tallied who was missing. The warrior magician pounded the end of his wooden staff into broken asphalt. Lightning crackled from the end of the staff, betraying his annoyance.

Something snapped in Fionn. Bright, brittle anger lanced through him. He launched himself at Gwydion and drove the other Celtic god to the ground. “Bastard,” he screamed. “Ye were in charge of Travis. What? Ye couldna control a simple human? Look what your slipshod seeds have sown—” He raised a fist and drove it into the side of Gwydion’s face. It was more satisfying than using magic. Closer and more personal.

Rune jumped into the fray and sank his teeth into Gwydion’s leg. Bella cawed her disapproval. She tangled her talons in the mage’s long hair and pulled as she pecked at him. Gwydion bellowed in pain. Fionn felt him reach for his magic.

He’d just pulled an arm back to hit Gwydion again—before his fellow Celtic god shielded himself—when strong arms closed about him and dragged him back. Magic surrounded him, forming a barrier.

“That willna help,” Arawn, god of the dead, revenge, and terror, said, voice stern with command.

“Aye, it willna get your lass back,” Bran agreed. God of prophecy, the arts, and war, he often had a gentler approach than the other Celtic deities.

Gwydion rolled to a sit, looking dazed. He placed his hands on the wolf and raven, murmuring in Gaelic. After a time, both animals retreated. He touched the bloodied places on his thigh; the flesh mended quickly. The master enchanter and god of illusion did not make any move to get to his feet. His blue gaze settled on Fionn. He bowed his head slightly and said, “I am most sorry. Ye are right to be angry with me. The lad came at me flanked by Lemurians. I never even knew how many. When I sent my magic spiraling out to find Travis, he was gone beyond my reach.”

“Why dinna ye tell me?” Fionn growled.

“How?” Gwydion countered, sounding weary. “Communication isna possible in the portals.”

Fionn groaned inwardly. He knew that. Where were his brains?
Taking a wee holiday,
a sarcastic inner voice suggested. Fionn tugged at both his arms. “You can let me go now,” he told Arawn and Bran. “I’ve returned to my senses.”

He stepped forward and extended a hand to Gwydion, who grasped it. “I am sorry I lost my temper.”

Something sparked from the mage’s blue eyes—compassion laced with pity. Gwydion stood and then brushed off his robes. Dust flew in all directions. He bent to retrieve his richly carved staff. It glowed blue-white when he touched it. He arched a brow at Fionn. “See, the staff knows battle lies ahead. The important thing is what we do now. A good start would be not tearing one another to bits.”

Though Fionn agreed, he secretly wondered if Gwydion might not have tried harder were it not for the bad blood between them over Tara, Aislinn’s dead mother. As a MacLochlainn, Aislinn was bound to him, just like her mother had been. But Tara had loved Gwydion. To avoid marrying Fionn, she’d given herself to a stranger and run away to America, effectively severing an age-old bonding. Tara MacLochlainn had been an Irish queen. Under laws of blood and dynasty, she should have belonged to him, Fionn MacCumhaill, Celtic god of wisdom, knowledge, and divination…

Guess she had other ideas about that. What a fankle. Mayhap one we are still paying for.
Fionn forced his mind to stay in the present. No point in dragging old bones out and chewing them half to death. Rune’s large black and gray head rammed his side. The wolf bared his fangs and growled.

“I understand.” Fionn’s blue gaze settled on Rune. “We have to find her. And we will.”

“Let us go over what we know.” Bran stepped closer. His blond braids were tucked into tight-fitting battle leathers. He had a dreamy look about him, but Fionn wasn’t fooled. The god of prophecy’s mind was sharp as a whip.

“Good idea,” Arawn echoed. Dark hair cascaded down his leather-clad shoulders. Looking as grim as the dead he commanded, his face was etched into harsh lines. Eyes, so dark that iris and pupil were indistinguishable, flashed fire.

“Let us ask the goddesses’ blessing,” Fionn intoned.

A weight like a cold stone settled into his guts. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Aislinn’s life depended on them getting this right the first time.
And my life right along with it.
Fionn’s soul shriveled as he thought about the next thousand years without the only woman he’d ever truly loved. He cursed his immortality. Life without Aislinn wouldn’t be worth very damned much.

Gwydion began a Celtic chant. The other three joined in at proscribed intervals, punctuated by Bella’s shrieks and Rune’s barks, whines, and howls. Night yielded to a sickly orange sunrise as they sang.

“I believe we are ready,” Gwydion murmured.

“Aye, I feel a goddess presence.” Arawn spoke reverently.

“Let us return to cataloging what we know.” Fionn gestured impatiently.

Though he understood the wisdom of securing divine assistance, he wanted to get moving before something lethal happened to Aislinn. A vision of her being tortured—long limbs splayed over a rack—rose to taunt him. He muffled a cry, but his mind wouldn’t clear. Blood ran down Aislinn’s face and blended with the red of her hair. Her golden eyes were glazed with pain. He bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling powerless. Adrenaline surged, leaving a sour taste in the back of his throat.

“We are, indeed, ready.” Bran nodded.

Fionn latched onto the sound of Bran’s voice and let it pull him out of the black pit his mind had become.

Bran inhaled sharply. “The Hunter, Travis, sought us out. I dinna try verra hard to test his words, but there was enough truth in his tale to satisfy me.”

“And I, as well,” Gwydion agreed. “So mayhap his small group of humans truly was set upon by Lemurians—”

Fionn snapped his fingers. “I have it. That putrid, poor-excuse-for-a-human cut a deal to save himself. Mayhap part of it was designed to wrest Aislinn away from me, since he was in love with her, too. She told me—” The words curdled in his throat. He couldn’t bear the thought of Aislinn fucking anyone else. She’d been with Travis once.
If she was telling me the truth… Mayhap she was with him many times and softened the telling to spare me.

Arawn cocked his head to one side. “Even though ye stopped midstream, what ye did say made sense. Travis agreed to serve as bait in exchange for his life—and mayhap the life of his bond animal as well. If he had his eye on the lass afore all this, well, the pot would have been all the sweeter.”

Fionn waved him to silence. “Ye say ye felt Lemurians?” He looked at Gwydion, who nodded. “Well, then, she must be in Taltos. Where else would they take her?”

Relieved to have a destination and something to do, Fionn pulled magic, intent on leaving immediately.

“Hold.” Gwydion put up a hand.

“What?” Annoyed, muscles strung tighter than a bow, Fionn locked gazes with him. Blue eyes sparred with a nearly identical set.

“Ye canna go off half-cocked. There are not enough of us.” Gwydion hesitated. “As the god of wisdom, knowledge, and divination, Fionn MacCumhaill, I would think ye would know that without me having to tell you.”

Frustration fueled rage. Fionn opened his mouth to tell Gwydion what he really thought of him. “Why ye sanctimonious—”

“Never mind that,” Bran spoke up. “We need a strategy.”

“And mayhap more of us,” Arawn added.

“Aye, and what about Dewi?” Gwydion furled his brows. Apparently, he’d chosen to ignore Fionn’s bitten-off words and the challenge beneath them.

Fionn blew out an impatient breath. His anger receded. The others were right. Dewi, the blood-red Celtic dragon god, was linked to the MacLochlainn women. She’d also spent centuries in the tunnels beneath Taltos, spying on the Lemurians. Yes, they definitely needed the dragon.

“All right,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “I get it. I agree we need Dewi, and probably more of us as well.”

“We must return to Marta’s house. As soon as we can.”

The wolf’s voice startled Fionn. He turned to look at Rune.

The wolf padded closer. “I have been to Taltos both ways,” the wolf reminded him, growling low. “It is much easier and more direct if we enter through the portal in Marta’s basement. That way, we maintain the element of surprise. The Mount Shasta gateway is akin to going to their front door and ringing a bell.”

Fionn kicked himself.
Even the wolf is thinking more clearly than I am.

Rune had been bonded to Marta and knew her secrets. She’d been onto the Lemurians, delving deep into the extent of their lies. Before they’d killed her, she’d managed to figure out the war against the dark gods was a sham. The Lemurians were actually in league with the dark. They were the ones who’d masterminded cracking the veils between the worlds to allow the dark ones access to Earth. An ancient race, the Lemurians understood that they were dying. They needed an infusion of magic, so they’d cut a deal. Access to Earth in exchange for...

Fionn filled his lungs with air, blew out a breath, and did it again. He had to get hold of himself, or he’d be less than useless hunting for Aislinn.
That will not happen. Focus, goddamn it. Pull it together.
Fionn pushed the ache in his heart aside and buried it deep. He couldn’t afford emotion. Not now. Or mental forays into Lemurian treachery. When he’d met Aislinn, she’d been a foot soldier in the Lemurian army, branded so she couldn’t use her magic against them.

Voices flowed over him. When words fell into coherent patterns again, he heard Gwydion ticking off a plan on his fingers. Apparently one the others had formed without any input from him. How dare they? Anger flared hot and bright. Fionn welcomed it like a drowning man might grab at a spar. He needed the energy to find the woman he loved.

“…agreed, Bran will hunt for Dewi. Arawn will return to the Old Country to muster as many of us as he can find. Fionn and I and the bond animals will return to Marta’s house. We will sneak into the tunnel a time or two to see what we can discover, but we will not move to rescue the lass until you arrive with reinforcements.”

Gwydion nailed Fionn with his blue gaze. “Aye, and ye have returned to us. Did ye hear—?”

“Aye.” Fionn cut off Gwydion’s next words. “Let’s get moving.”

The master enchanter inclined his head. “As ye will.”

Fionn looked at him and wondered if it were mere coincidence that Gwydion would end up babysitting him. He decided to test those waters. “I really would be fine with just the bond animals. Feel free to join either Arawn or—”

“Pah!” Gwydion interrupted. “Not on your life. I know you, Fionn MacCumhaill. If ye returned alone, ye would turn Taltos upside down to find your lady love. Then the rest of us would have two to search for.”

Arawn moved forward and laid a hand on Fionn’s arm. “Remember, the Lemurians came from Mu. They may still have a way to retreat there. If they do so, we will not be able to follow. Or they might strike a deal with the five remaining dark gods and go to one of their worlds if they feel threatened. We can travel to the border worlds, but it isna pleasant. Nay, if they have truly taken Aislinn to Taltos—and we do not know this as a fact—it is imperative they remain there. So, doona do anything foolish.”

“I understand.” Fionn clamped his jaws shut. Thoroughly chastised, he felt like a child again. He hadn’t considered either of the alternatives Arawn had just outlined. Apparently, they’d come up in the part of the conversation he’d missed while wrestling with himself.

“I know ye do.” Arawn favored him with a rare smile. “Bran and I are leaving.” The words had scarcely left his mouth when the air around both mages took on a numinous quality.

Fionn locked gazes with Gwydion. “Are ye ready?”

“I am.” Rune took up his traveling position next to Fionn’s side.

“As am I.” Bella settled on his shoulder in a flutter of wings.

Fionn stared at the bond animals. They’d returned to audible speech; that must mean they’d gotten their anger under control.
If they can do it, so can I.

Gwydion nodded slowly. “I do not believe there is aught else to be done right now, so the answer to your question would be aye.”

Fionn felt Gwydion draw magic to open a portal. Blessedly numb inside, he added his own to the mix, buried a hand in Rune’s neck ruff, and stepped through.