Born of Oak and Silver (The Caradoc Chronicles) (16 page)

I left my room and apartment without a single look back,
shutting the heavy wooden door firmly behind me, feeling my skin prickle in recognition of the wards. It was a strangely reassuring sensation in a time of so much possibility. Either things would continue as they had thus far, or they would become strikingly different.

I made my way back to the library
where I had left Bram. At first glance, I did not think that he was there any longer. I hesitated briefly beside the library’s entrance before turning to resume my search elsewhere. A soft rustling prompted me to enter the dim and cold room.

I approached the
littered table, noticing Bram slumped over on the floor as his hands cradled his wizened head.

“
Bram!” I rounded the table and crouched down beside him. I tilted his head back, fearing the worst. I found his eyes reddened and tearful.

“I have no inclin
ation as to how it was possible, Daine. I made those wards myself. They were unbreakable and irreversible to any but me. And now . . . now, I no longer possess the answers or explanations to anything. And they are all depending on me!” he shouted as he hit the shelf beside him, causing all of the books it had been supporting to crash to the floor.

H
e looked directly into my eyes; his were vulnerable. “What’s worse is that I do not know how to protect them. And Cian . . .” He shook his head tragically. His hand lifted to clamp tightly on my shoulder. “I fear for you, boy. Run. Run away from all of this as rapidly as you may. Take Brigid and hide away with her. Have a chance at happiness—even if it is only for a moment. Any chance at happiness is worth any and all sacrifice to possess it.”

I looked at my careworn friend and felt nothing but a heart-wrenching pity
. He took responsibility for the survival of the entire human race upon himself. “Bram,” I said to him placing my own strong hand on his somewhat feeble shoulder, “you are not alone. We will find the Sword. We will ensure that no Sidhe will ever claim the Earth—ever.”

My assurances seemed to make him
a little less burdened. I decided to lighten the mood further. I offered him a large smile as I added, “And, considering how long I’ve thus far had to wait, I think it best that you not tempt me with running away with Brigid.”

I clapped his shoulder once, shaking him lightly in an effort to lighten his mood enough that he might be able to simp
ly move forward. “No one knows how everything will unfold, and no matter how much it seems so, nothing is impossible. Now, come,” I stood and used my right hand to clasp his and lift him to his feet, “we have traveling to attend to.”

He dusted himself off.
“Yes, it is high time that we were off.” He gave me a curt nod, and strode past me and into the hallway.

I was surprised when
he did not stop at his rooms. Instead he went straight to the stables where we found our horses saddled and waiting. Liam sat astride his horse. He would be accompanying us to Sligo, and then would return with our horses once our arrangements had been made. Mounting up, we trotted out behind Bram. The gates of the castle opened, and Bram’s horse immediately took off in a gallop. Liam and I invoked the wind in order catch up with the already far ahead Bram.

Bram brought his horse to a
canter just outside of town, only seconds before a cart loaded with barrels rounded the bend ahead of us. It was now night and most of the town had closed its doors for the evening. All the same, we rode purposefully through Sligo before Bram dismounted his horse in front of a small sea-worn office on the docks. Liam and I waited outside. We did not wait long, however, before Bram reemerged with a time-hardened sailor trailing closely behind him.

“
Come, Daine, it is time for us to go,” Bram told me as he passed.

Liam dismounted and stood waiting
beside my horse. I swung my leg over the saddle and allowed my feet to fall to the ground. I placed my reins into Liam’s hand, patting a fond farewell to my horse, before I loosed my leather packs from where they had been strapped behind the saddle. I took off in a sprint, following the direction I had seen Bram and his companion heading. I found them already onboard a small single-mast skiff preparing to make sail.

“I thank ye much,
Mister Macardle, for yer most generous payment,” Seamus, the captain of
Helena’s Light,
said in a gruff, Irish accent as we were readying the sail.

Bram only briefly acknowledged the old captain’s gratitude before returning to his preparations. C
overtly, he invoked the wind and immediately the sail was filled. We were all taken off guard as the boat leapt forward, as eager to cut through the water as a knife through warm butter. We sped through the night, making our way around the southern coasts of Ireland. We did not slow until just before dawn, soon coming to a complete stop beside a small and clearly private landing.

The land beyond the coast
was untouched aside from a simple path that made its leisurely way up a gently sloping hill sheltered by trees. I knew at once exactly where we were, and smiled at the thought. Bram had brought us to the Macardles’ home in Killiney. My heart jumped in anticipation of seeing Brigid.

Bram and I quickly left the boat, feeling slightly off balance from a night spent
sailing as we walked. The favorable breeze continued to blow, fortuitously shifting direction in order to carry our grizzled captain back home to Sligo.

We walked hastily in the night’s dim but faintly growing light
, Bram in the lead and I bringing up the rear. The dawn was growing before us just over the hill.

Bram
unexpectedly stopped, and I stumbled clumsily into his back.              “Wait.” He held his hand out in a motion of stopping.

We remained still, listening and feeling intently for anything
that was amiss. Bram’s suspicion pushed aside all of my excitement, and allowed me to sense what it was that he had felt too. Everything was still and static, almost as though it was locked away deep inside of something dark and impenetrable. We heard nothing. Not a breeze rustling in the trees as it came off the sea, nor any birds scavenging in the winter morning. Not even a frost had gathered here.

T
he Earth gave us our first inarticulate warning, telling us that something was most definitely wrong here. The wind shifted, blowing down the hill and the path toward us. Our nostrils filled with the stench of acrid smoke.

My eyes widened,
as I finally realized that the dawn’s light upon the crest of the hill was not the dawn at all, but fire’s light. I rushed past Bram and broke into a wild sprint, frantic to make my way toward the Macardles’ home. I ran, as feelings of dread grew heavily with every pounding heartbeat. I broke through the edge of the trees, and gasped. My very lungs seemed to collapse, and I found it nearly impossible to regain the ability to breathe again.

I found
misshapen devastation, now charred and smoking and in some areas still burning. I found the remnants of Darragh Macardle’s magnificent home. I was entirely frozen, unable to do any more than begin swallowing gulps of smoked-clogged air. My eyes began to water, from emotion or the hovering smoky air I didn’t know.

Bram a
rrived only seconds after me, and took a horrified step backward upon realizing what he was seeing. There was nothing left but discordant rubble. He fell to his knees, and with a trembling hand reached for the ash-flecked earth. He gently placed his palm on the ground and fanned his fingers as wide as they could spread. “Lower yourself, Daine, the air is slightly more breathable down here,” Bram said weakly.

I looked down at him,
and soundlessly did as I was told. It was a battle not to lash out at him when every instinct I had was demanding that I rush down there and look for Brigid, not kneel passively in the dirt. Still, I could not begrudge him, and placed my palm upon the soil. I was instantly overwhelmed by the warnings of the Earth. Something unnatural had been here. The Earth herself felt defiled where its footsteps had fallen. Darkness crashed into my brain, permeated by sharp outbursts of emotion—terror, pride, horror, and grief—all locked away inside of the dust at our fingertips.

I felt my gut twist with worry in response.

“Bram, there is something not right about this,” I told him while I remained crouched with my hand pressed into the earth. My eyes refused to open by choice. I fought to breathe steadily and evenly.

“Yes, th
e Sidhe have been here, however it appears that several days have passed since their coming.” Bram stared at the ground, also unwilling to acknowledge the tragedy sprawled out before him.

“But
, there is something more Bram. It almost feels like . . . I don’t know . . . as though there was a human who was willingly working alongside the Sidhe.” I opened my eyes to look at Bram’s now standing frame. I remained crouched, seeking for more from the Earth as I continued to speak. “I do not recall having learned of humans aiding the Fae of their own volition.” I swallowed and looked across the still smoldering ruins. “But as contrary as it may seem, that is exactly what I am sensing. Whoever it was wanted to be here, and wanted to be a part of this,” I told him softly, though my voice was now roughened from the smoke.

I was
now fighting to restrain the panic that threatened to smother me, as well as the smoke that promised to do the same. I found it strange that there had been no one, until us, to disturb the scene.
Where were the people of the town?
I thought. If I had seen a massive pillar of smoke and possibly the glow of flames anywhere in the approximate area of my neighbors’ homes, I would have investigated it immediately. As counterintuitive as it was, there was not a single indication anywhere of that having happened.

The E
arth, although unable to express herself as humans do, retains vast stores of information about past events. One just needed to know how to read and understand it to gain access. What you found there was the truth, as a thing incapable of deceit cannot be made of anything else.

I noted that
not even a single breeze had been permitted to interrupt the consumption of the family’s home and property. The smoke hovered strangely in place, like dark lofty clouds that were unable to lift or remove themselves. They just grew and remained. The entire situation made both of us extremely uneasy. We’d just found what would be the future of our world if we did not find a way to stop it.

Bram
refused to look again at what was left of his son’s home. He continued to look down at me, shifting in place. “Are you certain, Daine? I was not able to ascertain as much from my own interpretations. Although I confess that I may not be the best of judges at present, as my emotions have rendered me . . . compromised,” Bram admitted shamefully.

I stood slowly to face him
. “Yes, Bram, I am sure. It scares the hell out of me.”

We stood there
a few moments longer, unsure about what we should to do next. Our family could be down there, but it could also very well be a trap. The fact that a human was willingly working with the Fae, without any coercion or glamour used by the Sidhe, was unheard-of and called for much cause for alarm. It baffled me to think what could have possibly motivated any individual to do so. The Fae’s promises were all false, and any reasonable human, capable of their own thought, would be able to know as much.

I looked at Bram. His eyes
were now unabashedly reddened and watering as well. I turned my face again to the destruction. Nothing was left but massive piles of entirely blackened stones, and some random bits of devastation that were still burning days after the incident—whatever that was.

“Bram, I have to find Brigid,” I said to him without turning to
face him. My eyes were widely surveying the hazy landscape for any signs of life. By the shore I thought there had been birds, but here there was nothing.

I did not wait for his approval, but sprang forward, wanting to waste no further time in
finding her or her family. The Earth had told me that there had been none to come or go with the exception of the Fae and its human companion. If that were true, it meant that Brigid and her family were buried somewhere in this mess. I held to a spark of hope that somehow they’d survived, despite a sense of foreboding that said they had not.

I began to call
out her name hoarsely as I stumbled my way through the smoke. It was thicker here around what had once been the house and its outbuildings, hovering like a shroud about the entire property. I stretched my mind, searching for anything that might be living. Again, I was met with nothing.

I moved to the closest pile of debris and began to ri
ffle through it. The possibility of having lost Brigid forever was causing a sickening ball to expand in my gut. I found nothing in the mound I was currently working on, and moved a few feet over to begin desperately working on the next. I worked frantically for what seemed an eternity. My fingers cracked and bled as I tore into the fractured stones, digging tirelessly, searching for any sign of life . . . and hope. When I began making choking noises, I knew that I needed to move from the smoke or I might soon suffocate.

I
felt a firm hand take my elbow. I looked first at the hand and followed it up until I found Bram’s face. His was somber as he began to shake his head sadly.