Darach (3 page)

"No, Hunter." Soft laughter came with the word. "You were always all mine."

"Good," Regan offered, supporting his weight on his elbows, pressing against Kian's fingers. His own Fire answered Kian's green, fitting and starting in him, sparking behind his eyes. They meshed together so perfectly. He wanted to kiss more, but Kian kept talking.

"When I left, I had to leave Darach, and it broke my heart to see him standing there, watching me go. He tried to stop me, wanted me to wait for him. But I couldn't."

"So, why do you think you have the dreams? And what did the seer mean about a fall from grace? The way you say it… I mean, is Darach some kind of angel?" Regan thought it was a fair question, but all Kian did was snort along with his laughter and then shake his head.

"No, he is no angel. But, if I believe my waking dreams, he is attempting to do something damned stupid. He is searching for the Cariad. If or when he finds them, his fall from grace will be complete. He will be hunted like a thief and a murderer." Kian's tone changed from soft to hard and the sparks from his fingers stung, causing Regan to wince and pull away.

"What the hell is a Carry-ad?" he asked, shaking his head to dispel the spark that had sizzled painfully against his skin.

"
Sorry,
"
Kian apologized, with a rueful expression on his face
. A
fter offering a kiss
,
he continued
.
"
N
ot
a
Cariad,
the
Cariad
. They are a
tribe of people who have a connection to old
magik
.
"
Kian stopped
and
closed his eyes
,
appearing to
recall
the rest
of his dreams and visions
without opening them once.
"
I see other things
—
i
t
'
s
a jumble of random nothings
that
scare me. I can
'
t help Darach,
or warn him to be careful
, to contact the Cariad, but to be discreet,
and
it
terrifies
me.
And I feel guilty, because I left him behind to cross to this world
"
He opened his eyes again
. C
onfusion flickered in their depth
s
briefly.

"And he couldn't come with you because he didn't have his Fire yet, I get that."

"Yes, he wanted to, but the Fire protects you as you pass the veil, a normal person would die instantly, even with infant Fire in them."

"These Cariad then, if he finds them, will they hurt him?"

Kian shook his head. "No, it was the Cariad, well, one of them in particular—Ceithin Morgan—who assisted me in crossing to here. He was a good person, they are good people, just misunderstood. They practice old magik, and it goes against everything the twelve Primary Edicts of the Council. They have no home as such, and are a wandering tribe. What's the word you use?"

"Gypsies? Travelers? Nomads?"

"The same. When I was a child, my mom would tell me stories of the Cariad and what she called 'their wicked ways'. It was always whispered as bedtime stories, you never mentioned the Cariad outside of the home. When I grew, I learned there was a lot I didn't understand about the old magik. Stories are just that, and I don't believe them to be all true. But the Cariad are traditionally outcasts from what is perceived to be normal society, and for Darach to be involved with them is bad. He's a reckless idiot and he isn't as strong as I am, and it scares me."

"Why would it scare you? If you went to them for help, why can't Darach?"

"It isn't that he is in danger if he goes there. I spent time with them and the Cariad are a peaceful tribe. Others don't know that. They just accept what they are told and blame the Cariad for everything that goes wrong in my world. What people think, what the Council thinks about his actions… That is what worries me. If anyone knows he is associated with the outcasts, he is open for censure, imprisonment, maybe even death. The Cariad are a part of our society that is taboo."

"It's that serious?"

"More than. Like I said, to even speak of the Cariad outside the home is forbidden."

Regan listened to the explanation, realizing he didn't know enough about the world Kian had called home. He resolved to learn more, because he wanted to understand. "Can we somehow go to your world?"

"Not until All Hallows. Only then is the barrier thin enough for me to pass through without extra magik and power that I have no hope of accessing before then."

"
For
u
s
to pass through
you mean
,
"
Regan corrected quickly.

"Us. Of course—us."

"
So, if we can
'
t go over, and you
'
re this worried for him, c
an
we
find a way to help
Darach
from here? Seems like we should take some downtime and see what we can find out.
"
Unspoken w
ere
the added words
I love you
,
Kian
,
and I
'
ll help any way I can.

Kian raised his gaze, his eyes wide, his expression hopeful. The four words he spoke sent warmth coursing through Regan's body as his Fire responded to the energy within Kian.

"I love you, Hunter."

Chapter 2

Ceithin
Morgan had no energy left to scream. His vocal chords were shredded and the shudders
wracking
his body were impossible to
control
.
They
wanted
information
from him
.
They
wanted his Fire
.
A
nd he would not
give
them
either. A combination of ancient
magik
and his own
stubborn determination meant he would go to his grave with his Fire intact.
His scarlet
was weak
ened by what they did
;
no Fire could stop all the energy they threw at him
.
B
ut he had
protected
his Fire
with
magik
as old as time, and
in such a way
that
nothing
t
hey
could do would break the Fire
Bond
.

They tried everything they knew, pulling at the silver
-
tipped crimson tangl
ing
around him in a messy scramble of light. Whispering words in their own
magik
,
they
ripped
and
pulled
until his skin
tore
into Fire-laced shreds.
Still
his
skin. Still
his
Fire
. He knew he was bleeding; he could smell it
and
taste
it
in his mouth, coppery hot
,
liquid rivers
,
and feel it running into his eyes, half blinding him. The
skin peeled away from him
,
and it was
an agony he
had to force himself to bear
.
He focused on the Valley, on home
;
the grass beneath his feet, the trees and pathways, the rainbows glitter
ing
in the waterfalls.
The visions
kept him
centered
.
T
hey couldn
'
t touch his
memories.

They had tortured him for hours, inflicting pain for the sake of knowledge and for the Fire at the center of his soul. Three men, three magiks, three Fires—ochre, gold, orange—evil and tainted with the brown of dead earth and the sickness of greed and ambition. They were the Council that governed the City and they used the power of the amber Fire to rule.

Sulien, the eldest of the three
—
tall, thin
,
and dressed in white from head to toe
—
he was
splashed with blood, Ceithin
'
s blood.
The second
,
Ceithin knew as Ephraim, a rotund
,
fearful man who hovered nervously to one side, only every so often throwing his Fire into the attack. Finally, Madoc
,
who hunched over him spitting curses and Fire in a flurry of movement, with hate in his eyes.
They wanted what
Ceithin
had
. They wanted his Fire
. There was no chance in
the hell of
Annwn
that
Ceithin
would subm
it
his will or pass anything of worth to anyone, much less these three
.

"It's over. He'll give nothing to us while he's alive," Sulien snapped harshly.

"He is a Cariad. This is too dangerous. What if Guardian finds out?" Ephraim sounded worried, frightened even. As Ceithin sprawled, still as death in the dirt, he imagined the name Cariad sending fear into others' hearts. They were right to fear the violence of the Cariad Fire—it was his birthright, and it had kept him alive this long day.

"Sulien, the Cariad has scarlet Fire. We need his Fire. Guardian is withholding what we need, and I want the red Fire," Madoc insisted. Less concerned and scared than Ephraim, he sounded stronger, more forceful.

"If Guardian ever suspects what we are doing here—" Ephraim's hurried insertion, voicing his worry, was dismissed immediately as Sulien cut him off with firm words.

"
He
'
s so
new he wouldn
'
t see beyond what we cast.
"
Sulien
'
s
voice had a smug edge
and
Ceithin
tried to focus on what they were saying
, needing to learn all he could if he ever had a hope of finding his brother in this
Annwn
forsaken place
.

Madoc had clearly reached the limit of patience. "The Cariad will not give up Fire willingly, nor will his Fire choose to leave him. The bond between the two is too strong."

"I agree," Ephraim said quickly. "It's coiled in his spine, bound by old magik I have never seen."

Ceithin groaned low as a wave of intense pain shot through his chest. It wasn't inflicted by the three men who stood a careful distance from him. His Fire was burning bright and hot inside him. Although it hid, it wanted vengeance. He was losing control of it, and he concentrated, using every pore within him to push his fire down. Laying still, he willed his breathing slower.

"He is dying, even his scarlet can't help him now. We'll simply allow his body to decay and harvest the Fire when we are able." Sulien's voice dripped with distaste for Ceithin and his Fire, clearly dismissive of his death. Impatient and spiked, the sound of the words flowed into Ceithin's subconscious.

"Sulien, if we allow a Cariad to die here and Guardian discovers—" Ephraim's voice had taken on a new inflection—naked fear.

"Enough. We should not fear a newborn Guardian. Find your backbone." Sulien snapped into sudden, complete, inflexible command mode. "I am first in the Council of Three. Ward the space and leave him. We'll capture the Fire just before his body desiccates. Guardian does not venture this far into the prison; he will not know."

There were no more words spoken, just magik thrown at Ceithin. Enough to kill a normal man, it mercilessly assaulted his senses, a net of energy holding him pinned to the stone floor. He heard low laughter, then retreating footsteps. A groan tore from his chest, unbidden and deep, but he at least had some hope. If the Council were hiding him from Guardian, then surely that was a point in his favor. On their own, they were no match for Cariad, and without Guardian's amber Fire they were just three old men with limited knowledge of the Ancients' magik.

He didn't remember much about how he had become a prisoner after arriving at the gate. He'd been following instincts telling him which entry to use. He'd passed through the first warding easily and then onto the main courtyard, just another citizen visiting the Council stronghold. Then all he remembered were cat's eyes, amber gold, and a Fire taking him to his knees. Amber Fire. Like nothing he had seen before, stronger than his father's. Council Fire.

But the Fire of the three he saw today—Sulien, Ephraim, and Madoc—their Fire was dying. It had been deteriorating, the dirty brown of early decay, destroyed from the inside. So that really only left Guardian with any kind of powerful amber Fire. What did Guardian need with him? Why hand him over to the Council? The Council said Guardian didn't know he was here? The level of ruin in the Council's Fire was nothing Ceithin had ever seen before; and the fact they craved his Fire served to convince him something was wrong, horribly wrong. Terminal. He'd sensed an echo of this as he stood in the courtyard looking at the people who moved around with no real purpose and limited emotions. Their Fire had been dampened somehow. None of it seemed right; and as soon as he got out of this damn prison, he needed to trace the root of whatever it was that was polluting the Fire.