Rising Fire (24 page)

It could save Corann's life, Brienne. Keep him alive until we reach you both.

“Ask her if she knows their destination.”

Where are you heading, love? Have you heard any words or directions?

“Aberdeen. Inverurie. Oldmeldrum. Though she knows not where those places are.” Aislinn patted his hand now. “Let her sleep. I can feel her exhaustion.”

Rest now. Worry not, love. We are on our way to you. Do not lose heart.

“She's slipped away, William. I cannot see her any longer.”

She released his hand, and he opened his eyes. Her gaze filled with knowing, she smiled at him then. Had she heard his words? She stood and whispered with
Marcus before leaving the tent without another word to him.

“We can land near Aberdeen and travel from there,” Marcus explained. “Would you tell the commander, Roger?”

Roger made his way out of the tent, observing them with his usual silent regard.

“Do you know the area, William?” Marcus asked.

“Aye, dozens of standing stones and even circles strewn all through that area. Some large, some small. All ancient. How will we know which is the true gateway?”

“Worry not on that,” Marcus advised. “As two of the bloods approach the circle, the goddess will try to break free. You, Brienne, Hugh, and the rest of us will know the true circle then.”

“And if she breaks free? Can she escape?”

No one would speak of that. What was this goddess, and what would happen if they failed?

“What is she?”

“She is the destructor. She is chaos. She is fire. Very simply, her escape will be the end of the world as we know it. Death and fire will rule over man and reason.” Marcus shuddered as he finished his words.

“Beginning with us?” he asked.

“Aye, we will be the first to die. But if she escapes, that could be merciful for us considering what the rest of humanity would face.”

From deep within him, in his soul, William understood the danger. His ancestors had exiled this goddess once, and he must ensure that she did not escape the prison that held her now.

But could he save the woman he loved from a
madman who would sacrifice anyone and everything in his quest for power?

Hours later he still paced the small confines of the ship, trying to sort out the endless possibilities ahead. With the dawn came no clarity of anything except his purpose.

To save Brienne.

S
he walked slowly around the ship with Brisbois only a step behind her. The ship's rise and fall as it moved across the smooth sea made it difficult to keep her balance as she did. It was her first time on a boat, and this was a large one that carried many. Gazing across the water, she saw the other one a short distance away.

They did not bind her, for she could not swim and dared not try to escape. And since no man there would touch her, she had more freedom on the ship than she'd had on land.

On the third time that she'd circled the ship, she paused close to the unconscious heap of broken flesh that was a man named Corann. Though his face was beaten almost beyond recognition, she thought he might have been one of the men who'd taken her that day in the forest. Brisbois pushed her shoulder, so she continued past the man, trying to come up with a way to do as William had asked her.

She had dreamed of him!

She'd expected nightmares to haunt her sleep. Instead she could see and hear him as though he stood
before her. She thought him just a dream until he asked her questions about that man and about their journey. He'd asked her to save Corann by sharing a vital piece of information with Lord Hugh—that he knew the priests' method to open the circle.

Lord Hugh would keep him alive then. At least until they reached the stones. At least until William could reach them as he promised. She smiled then, remembering his words to her as he'd promised to reach her.

As she approached him once more, she said his name loud enough for others to hear. Stopping before him, she repeated it.

“Corann?”

“Move along, girl,” Brisbois ordered gruffly, nudging her shoulder to push her on.

“Does Lord Hugh know who this man is, Brisbois?” she asked. When Lord Hugh approached from the place where he stood in the front of the ship, she knew he'd heard her. She felt his presence behind her before he even said a word. Would there ever be a time when she could not?

“Brienne? You know this man?” he asked. He pushed Corann, forcing the huddled mass to his back, where she could see him more clearly. She could not help herself. Her gaze went to Brisbois, who looked away.

“Aye, my lord,” she answered. “He took me to their camp some days ago. To draw the warblood, much as you do now.”

Oh, she knew his intention. From what she'd heard, he needed only one fireblood in the circle to open it, and it would be himself. She was only the lure to bring the other one needed to it—and to ensure that he would
do as ordered—so that he could open it for his goddess. Lord Hugh's expression changed from surprise to anger to amusement in just seconds.

“And he knows about the circles.”

“Not as stupid as I thought,” he said. “Are you speaking the truth though?”

She felt him trying to slide into her thoughts, to find the truths he wanted. He took her chin and held so that their gazes met as he pushed and probed. He thought her compliance was assured by whatever he put in her ale, so she thought of only what William had told her.

This priest can open the gateway.

This priest can open the gateway.

Over and over, she repeated it in her thoughts, and she began trying to push him out. Feeling more ability than she should have, she used only the barest bit of her power to resist.

“He can open the gateway?” he asked, staring at her. She tried to pull away from him. “This priest can open it? Tell me, Brienne. Now!”

The crushing pain in her head nearly blinded her. She collapsed on the deck next to the tortured man. “Aye, my lord.”

His laughter echoed across the ship and the sea, and every one of his minions was drawn to it. For a moment she imagined that every soul in Scotland and beyond cringed at the evil sound.

“See to him then, Brienne. Keep him alive.” Lord Hugh kicked the man, who roused and peered through a slit where one of his eyes should be. “She is your savior, Corann.”

He walked off, still laughing, calling out orders to
get her what she needed. Brisbois stood over her, watching her every move and expression.

“Let me die,” Corann rasped out, grabbing her with his bloodied hand. “I beg you, let me die.”

She wanted to comfort him and tell him the truth, but he could confess it if they tortured him again. When Brisbois handed her a skin of fresh water and she held it to Corann's mouth, he refused it. Brienne cleaned his wounds and bandaged his broken arm as best she could. A blanket appeared, as did some watered-down porridge from their last meal. He refused that as well, determined to die with his knowledge.

Brisbois stood silently by through the rest of the day, saying nothing but missing not a movement or word she spoke. Lord Hugh stood under the tent on the high platform at the front of the ship and watched everything. From time to time, he would walk over and stand beside her. She waited for him to invade her mind, but he did nothing but watch.

They traveled north along the coast, always north, and she spent some moments watching the smaller boats of fishermen and merchants glide by, though none came too close. The sky remained clear that day and the sea calm, and soon they passed by a huge castle sitting on a rock cliff at the sea's edge. Lord Hugh's attention was drawn to it as well.

There was a low humming tone within it, as though some power sat beneath the castle in the rock itself. Was this a place of power, a sacred place, as he'd called it? It took some time and distance before the sound disappeared. Is that what would happen at the circle? As it had in his demonic chamber belowground? Did evil have a sound?

“What will happen?” she asked, against her own decision not to speak to him. She needed to know.

“At the gateway?” She nodded. “You will enter the circle with the warblood. He”—he nodded at Corann—“he will perform the ritual and open it. The goddess will be freed.”

Remembering the sound and shape of the being behind the barrier made her shiver. She had no doubt that anyone in the circle would be dead once the goddess was free and had all of her powers back.

“You think to survive this, then? That she will let you live?” she asked.

A sense of peace filled her as she realized there was no question of her survival—she would not. She only hoped that she could get William and the others away before she died. Lord Hugh strode up to her, grabbing her face and bringing it to his.

“She has promised me great rewards for my loyal service,” he whispered harshly so only she could hear. “I will be at her side, Brienne, as you should be.” He released her. “You are almost out of time to choose the right side in this. Stand with me or be destroyed with the rest when she reigns.”

“But what of the king? You were his guardian and regent, one of his oldest friends and counselors. Will he not fight for his kingdom?”

“His death will make it that much easier to take over.”

She looked away and took a deep breath. So his plan included the king's death. William's father. She must warn him somehow, but she could not dare to anger Lord Hugh further.

“Now get back over there and see to that priest.”

He called Brisbois as he walked back to his place at the front. As he spoke to his torturer, the man gazed back at her. She tried to ignore it, but she wondered if he'd just been given his orders to kill her.

Brisbois came now and stood over her once more. She tended to Corann as best she could, squeezing drops of water into his mouth and waiting for him to swallow. Awake, he fought her. Asleep or unconscious, she could get a few precious drops down his throat.

“You frighten him.” Glancing up at the huge man, she was puzzled. “You scare him as no other has ever,” he repeated with something that resembled a smile.

“What makes you say that? His powers are so much stronger than mine. He has knowledge and abilities that I have no idea even exist. How can I frighten him?” she asked.

He shrugged. Sometimes his wordlessness frustrated her. She thought about what she'd seen just now.

“Will you be my executioner?” she asked with a boldness she did not quite feel.

“When the time comes, aye.” The man's piercing gaze did not move from hers. “I will make it a quick one, girl.” She turned back to Corann when he spoke again. “As I hope you would make mine if the chance came.”

Stunned by his admission, she could not speak. Then, remembering James's death, she thought that their tacit agreement might be a good thing.

*   *   *

Will did not believe in failure. The warblood who lived within him now did not either. Even so, he took no chances, reviewing their plan over and over as they crossed the miles north into countryside outside Aberdeen.

In Edinburgh, he'd sent a group of his men and some of the priests ahead by horse overland. The seas were untrustworthy and could send a ship miles and weeks off their course. He could not chance that. The king's gold paid the way north. Landing south of Aberdeen, he knew she was near.

He did not need to dreamwalk as the seer did—the warblood's connection to his fireblood was strong and clear. Apparently, the love they felt for each other bonded them in some elemental way he did not yet understand. But he knew that all he had to do was unleash his desire or need for her and the warblood would seek his mate.

Marcus informed him that more of his priests would join them at the circle, even though only one was needed to complete the ritual. Aislinn said little or nothing now, spending most of her time in between dreams and spell-weaving.

Insulted when Roger said the priests were worthless, worse, a burden to protect, Marcus cast a spell that took away his voice. And, he promised, there would be other spells, more powerful ones, to hide them from their enemy and to aid them in sealing the gateway forever.

One thing did give him pause—he discovered that none of them knew the actual ritual—they needed to be ready to read the signs at the circle. But it involved spilling the blood of the two on the altar stone. More than that, blank expressions were the only answers he got from them.

Part of him could still not understand this strange new world in which he now existed. The human warrior in him liked solid ground and strategic plans. That
part of him liked knowing that his superior fighting skills would tip the balance of any battle. But this new world with beings of great powers and unknown abilities threatened to undermine his confidence and that of his men.

With every mile closer—to the circle, to the goddess, and to Brienne—William felt his own power growing and strengthening. When they stopped to rest the horses or to eat or take their ease, he practiced his, letting the power rise in his blood until his body changed. Pushing it further and stronger each time, until he became the weapon himself. At his command, at his will.

When they stopped for the night south of Inverurie, a village of some size, and gathered for one more time to finish their plans, Roger—with his voice restored—and Marcus came to him with a plan of their own.

“You say you can sense them—Lord Hugh and Brienne?” Roger asked. At Will's nod, he continued. “So they can tell you're coming closer?” Roger looked at Marcus. “And the priests? The same?” Marcus nodded.

Aislinn joined the group then with word that the other group of soldiers sent by land had arrived and that the priests of Far Island were not too long off. And that Lord Hugh and Brienne were only a mile or so from the circle. She looked exhausted from seeking so much knowledge in visions. Haunted and pale. She accepted a cup of ale from him and sat by his side.

“Then it must be us who get Brienne out of there. And it must be before they reach it.”

“Us?” Will asked.

“Us, men—humans only,” Roger said. “He can't sense us coming the way he seems to sense you. . . .”

“But he will know. He will expect such an attack.”
Any good commander would, and from what Will had witnessed, Eudes had much experience and skill.

“Aye.” Roger nodded. “So Marcus and his lads will . . . ?” He waved his hand, waiting for Marcus to fill in the correct word.

“Cast,” Marcus filled in.

“Cast one of his fog spells to cover our movements. One group goes straight in, and the other goes for the girl.”

“And Corann,” Aislinn added. “He is so weak that he prays for death so he will not betray his duty to us and to the gods.”

“Marcus? Will it work?” he asked.

“Only the gods know that, William, and they have not told me yet.” Will smiled at his attempt to lighten such a grave topic. “I think that it could. Lord Hugh will be experiencing the same thing you and Brienne and we are—a sudden change to the powers we have. So if you approach, it could draw his attention away from their”—he nodded to Roger—“attack.”

“This is something we must do soon,” Will told them. “The longer we are here, the more time he has to prepare for us. We do not know how many more he has called to his side to face us.”

They added details, each one using their own skills, talents, and experience to perfect the plan until they all agreed. They would travel the last few miles toward the circle before dawn and make their rescue at daybreak.

Something in the pit of his gut made him call his men together to outline their alternate plan if anything went wrong in the rescue. Then he walked the perimeter of their camp, watching as some of the priests set
spells to keep out intruders and others prepared for the morning.

As he lay on his blankets, he tried to reach Brienne on his own, not using Aislinn's power. He could not see her, but he sent his thoughts out to her. By this time on the morrow, their quest would reach its conclusion and, just as they'd done with the priests, the gods had not deigned to tell him if they would succeed.

Or if evil would be unleashed on an unsuspecting world.