Beyond the Pale: A Thin Veil Novella (The Thin Veil Book 3) (6 page)

Kier pushed aside the stack of books she had been resting on. She had been researching the war between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Milesians, trying to find something she could use to persuade Lorcan from his plan of revenge, if they could find him. She thought about what he had last said to her.
Things are going to start changing, and soon you will see that I am right. When that time comes, send word to me.
She wondered if
he
might eventually come to
her
.

She thought again about the dead tree. Could Lorcan somehow absorb power from trees, as well as people?

That’s impossible
, she told herself.
He doesn’t have the power to do that…no one does.
Even Connor could only speak and listen to the land. Her friend Anya could manipulate water, just as Kier could flames, but neither of them had the ability to cause this much damage. What benefit could Lorcan gain from killing the trees? Unless…he wanted further cause for them to leave Tír na nÓg for Ériu.
He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t destroy our home.
She shook her head at the thought, but she now knew that he was capable of anything.

“Your Majesty.” Eolas was watching her closely, his large round eyes wide with worry. “You really do not seem well. Shall I call a healer?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing.”

He came and sat down next to her. “You have been working yourself too hard. Can I assist you in your research?”

She was about to say no, but why not enlist his help? No one knew these books better than Eolas, who had cared for them for hundreds of years. “Actually, yes,” she said. “I’ve been reading about how our people came here to Tír na nÓg, and about our time on Ériu.” She watched him closely. He didn’t seem like the type to side with Lorcan, but she had been surprised before. And after all, it had been Eolas who had helped Lorcan discover his ability. Perhaps they were closer than he had let on.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “I have been to Ériu, like so many others, though not recently, of course. There were many men of great learning there. We were able to glean much from each other.”

“So then…you respect them. The humans, that is.”

“I do. Their knowledge is not as vast as ours, but they are a young race, eager for greater understanding. I would not wish to see them harmed.”

Kier nearly reached out and hugged him across the table, but she restrained herself. “Then you know what I am trying to do,” she said. “I need to find something that will help me persuade our people that revenge is not the answer, that Tír na nÓg is our
true
home. Or something that can help us defeat Lorcan, if he should rise up against the king.”

“I have always preferred words to swords and arrows,” Eolas said after a moment of thoughtful silence. He stood and walked over to the curved shelves. There was a tall ladder leading to the upper stacks, but he ignored it and floated up to the top shelf, where he grabbed a small and very grubby book. It was about as big as her hand from fingertip to wrist, bound in dark leather that was dried and cracked in places. Some of the binding was beginning to fray, and Kier could see that it was animal sinew, not leather or fabric. “Were you aware that I have known Lorcan since he was a young man?”

Kier swallowed. Had she misplaced her confidence in Eolas? “Yes,” she answered. “He told me you helped him identify his ability.”

“I merely confirmed what he already suspected,” Eolas said. “I have been watching him ever since, wondering what he would do with it. He tries to hide it, but he is hungry for power…for revenge. He has not had an easy life. If I may say so, Your Majesty, you were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Kier felt another stab of guilt for the role she had played in Lorcan’s transformation. “And the worst,” she muttered.

Eolas leaned in close to her, his bug-like eyes blinking calmly. “You made the right choice. He would gone down this path eventually, whether you were with him or not. I am sure of it.
He
chose this. Not you.”

Kier stared down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with her eyes. She knew Eolas meant well, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe him. Lorcan had changed since their parting…she had damaged him. But it was too late now; too many wheels had been set in motion. Even if they caught him, even if he surrendered, she knew things would never go back to the way they had been.

“Is that book about his ability?” she asked abruptly. “Will it tell us how we can find him?”

“No,” Eolas said. “But it might help you solve both of your problems.”

He opened the book gently and turned the pages one by one, until finally he stopped. “Do you know the poet Cairpre mac Edaine?”

“I’ve heard of him. He was a great sage, but he was killed in the battle of Tailtiu.”

“It’s strange, you know—the poets on Ériu are considered barely more than common bards. Sometimes even less than that. Perhaps their poets do not possess the gifts of foresight that ours do. And Cairpre mac Edaine was unequalled in this gift. He foresaw our battle with the Formorians—and our victory over them—and also the coming of the Sons of Mil, which ushered in our defeat. He predicted Brighid would leave us before she even considered the idea. I often wonder whether his prophecy is what gave her the courage to make it come true. At any rate, Cairpre mac Edaine’s last prophecy has remained unfilled. And I couldn’t help but think of it when you first told me the plants were being killed by some strange poison.”

“What is it?” Kier asked, leaning forward.

Eolas bent his head down and read, “In the words of Cairpre mac Edaine: ‘The dyad that should not be will rise from the ashes and purge the land of the coming poison.’”

Kier repeated the prophecy softly to herself. “A dyad?” she asked. “Like a…a two-in-one? And what ashes does he speak of? Will Tír na nÓg be destroyed?”

“I do not know exactly what it means, my lady. I do not even know if it is referring to this particular time in our history or another time that has yet to come. However…” He leaned in close, his large round eyes only inches from hers. “You know that a poison is spreading in the hearts of our people. The lust for revenge. Perhaps…these poisons are one and the same.”

Kier leaned back, stunned. Could he be right? Could the malice that Lorcan was spreading be the very thing that was causing the plants to die and the rivers to dry up? If she could stop him, could she save both Ériu and Tír na nÓg?

“The dyad that should not be…” she repeated. “Who is this? How do we find him or her?”

“I do not know who the prophecy refers to,” he said. “Or even that it refers to a person.”

“What else could it be?” Kier shoved her chair back and started pacing around the perimeter of the room. “Two-in-one…someone with two abilities? But there are many like that, and it’s perfectly natural. It says ‘should not be’—what kind of duality should not be?” She kept pacing, mindful that Eolas had closed the book and returned it to its home on the shelf. Then she stopped. “Someone born of a human and a Danann,” she said. “That would fit.”

Eolas frowned. “But such a thing is not possible,” he said.

“Which is why it fits! ‘The dyad that should not be’!” she exclaimed. She felt her heart clench as a new thought occurred to her. “Oh,” she said, feeling the blood rush from her head. She wavered on her feet, and Eolas flew to her side.

“My lady, are you all right?” he said, helping her back into the chair. She sank into it, then put her face into her hands.

“Of course,” she muttered.

“Of course what?” he asked.

She lifted her head. The least she could do was sit straight in her chair, though her legs didn’t yet feel like they could support her. She looked Eolas in the eyes, daring him to contradict her. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” But inside she was reeling. What if the dyad was Brogan’s child—with his human lover?

“A child born of a human and a Danann is not possible,” the librarian said again, as though reading her thoughts. She wondered if he too knew about her husband’s affair. “I only mentioned this prophecy because it seemed to speak to our present problem. But now there is nothing to do but wait for it to be fulfilled.”

Kier looked at him steadily. “No. If this prophecy means we can stop our land from dying
and
defeat Lorcan, waiting is not an option. We need to find that dyad.
Now
.”

* * *

Kier hurried back to the Hall to tell Brogan about the prophecy. If they could find this dyad, perhaps they could avoid war after all. She ran ahead of her guards, who stayed outside once she entered the royal living quarters.

“Brogan!” she called, before almost running right into him. He looked surprised to see her, and a strange expression crossed his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. “Were you not going to spend the day at the library?”

“I was, but—” she started to answer, then paused. “Are those…herbs?” Clutched in Brogan’s hand was a large cloth bag that smelled distinctly of oriendal leaves. “Where are you going?”

“Just taking these…to Felix,” Brogan muttered.

There was the sound of breaking glass from behind them. Kier turned to see the shards of the goblet of Manannan mac Lir lying on a side table. Brogan swore. “I forgot that was there,” he said. “I mean—”

“Apparently I should be grateful that Ruadhan left it here,” Kier said, as the truth began to sink in. “Where are you
really
going?”

Brogan looked nervously at the shattered goblet, then back at his wife. “She’s learning herb-lore,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of her eyes, Kier saw the goblet reforming, but she kept her gaze fixed on her husband.

“You told me you had closed that sidh,” she said, unable to hide the shaking in her voice. Her blood was pounding in her veins, and she closed her fists to keep fire from escaping them.

“I did,” he said quickly. “But…I have reopened it. On occasion.”

“Are you insane?” she burst out. “Is this all a game to you?
Lorcan wants to conquer Ériu
. He wants to kill and enslave your precious humans. And yet you are leaving a sidh open for him to go through?”

“Ruadhan closes it,” he muttered, his face turning red.

“Oh really? Every time? He just sits around waiting for you to come back so he can close the sidh? It’s never just there, waiting for someone to find it?”

“It’s very well hidden,” he said sharply. “You yourself have said it: I am the king, and I can do as I like.”

“Not if it brings about the destruction of an entire world!” Kier screamed. She was starting to feel quite hysterical, so she took several deep, calming breaths. “Listen,” she said after a long, slow exhale. “It is obvious that you care about this woman very much. And that’s something we can talk about—later. But if you truly love her, you need to close that sidh. You must ensure there is no way Lorcan can get to Ériu.
He hates you.
Think of what he would do if he found her. If nothing else sways you, perhaps that should.”

Kier felt her anger draining away as exhaustion overtook her. She didn’t even realize she was falling until she hit the floor, and then all was dark.

* * *

When Kier woke up, it was not Brogan who was gazing down at her in concern, but rather the chief healer. His real name was Toirdhealbhach, but he had adopted the name “Felix” back in the years when he had made frequent trips to Ériu, and the name had stuck. He was remarkably handsome, even by the high standards of the Tuatha Dé Danann—his blond hair framing chiseled features and piercing blue eyes. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” she answered automatically, and he raised an eyebrow. “Um…strange,” she corrected. “What happened?”

“You collapsed,” he answered. “The king brought you here.”

“Is he still here?” she asked, sitting up. Felix handed her a goblet that smelled like wild strawberries and night air.

“No. He said he had some business to attend to,” Felix said.

Like a visit to Ériu
, she thought bitterly. She took a sip from the goblet to mask her expression. Was this her fate, to be constantly blindsided by the men in her life? She had felt a growing closeness with Brogan in recent weeks, as though their common goal had created a new bond between them. Apparently it had been one-sided. “Have you made any progress on the plant samples?” she asked.

Felix’s lips twitched. “You have a bit of a one-track mind, don’t you?” Seeing that she was about to argue, he continued. “I’m sorry to say that what Connor told you is correct. There is some sort of poison at work. But it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. I’ll keep working on it to see if I can identify the source. But as of now, I don’t know any more than you do.”

Kier frowned. The Tuatha Dé Danann had created this land and lived in tune with it for thousands of years. How could an unknown poison of this strength appear out of nowhere? Unless Eolas was right, and it had something to do with Lorcan.

Felix interrupted her thoughts. “Since you seem keen to talk about anything but your health, there’s something you should know. We are not the only ones to notice this strange decay. Some are saying the humans are to blame, that they have somehow poisoned our land as a bid to weaken us and take over Tír na nÓg.”

Kier gaped at him. “That’s ridiculous. There haven’t been any humans in Tír na nÓg for hundreds of years! And they would hardly have the ability to do such a thing.”

“I know,” Felix agreed.

“This is Lorcan’s doing,” she spat. “He spreads these rumors, puts these thoughts into their heads.”

“But they are not disagreeing,” Felix said softly. “There is a poison spreading among our people just like the one that poisons our land.”

“That’s exactly it,” Kier said urgently. She told Felix about the prophecy, and what Eolas thought it might mean.

Felix frowned, digesting this new bit of information. “It’s a bit of a leap, don’t you think? I just don’t see how Lorcan could pull this off. Unless he has some new destructive ability I don’t know about?”