Autumn Moon (19 page)

“Gut the witch,” he ordered his comrades. Twisting Elen's waist-length hair until it formed a thick rope; he made a quick slice by her shoulder, smirking as a branding bite was revealed on her tender flesh. Her silken tresses fell like golden serpents to coil within a burgundy pool. When all was done, Elen's scent mingled with Maelorwen's; it appeared as if a massacre had occurred.

It would do. The rebels would not call in human authorities with their scientific tests, knowing what the danger of discovery would bring upon them all. Their theories would come from scent and the instinct of their wolves.

Pendaran gestured to the
Hen Was
standing beside the second carrier containing a healthier beast than the first. A feline creature hissed within, chosen because it was native to this land, aggressive because it sensed their wolves and hungry because it smelled blood. “Unleash the lynx.”

Even a rabbit eater would not resist a fresh kill. When the creature was done dragging entrails and consuming flesh, luring other natural predators to do the same, no one would assume Elen still lived. Not even her mate.

Pendaran intended to continue sending gifts, perhaps even a summons to her brother, forcing them to question his involvement. The Guardians' strongholds were spread wide and far across countries. The rebels did not have enough shifters to attack everyone at once. They would argue, send scouts and find no evidence of Elen, and then argue some
more. They would question who—or what—had caused her death. Uncertainty would fuel doubt, and with doubt their campaign would fail before it even started.

Pleased with the results of his plan, Pendaran turned to his fellow Guardians. “Doubt is such an efficient tool for dissension. Do you not agree?”

By evening Cormack succumbed to the blinding panic that gripped his gut. They'd searched the castle, the island and even the local town—but he knew, from the acid that lodged in his throat and the fear that seized his heart, that she'd been taken. “Elen promised not to leave, and she wouldn't have done so without a fight.”

Unless she'd been incapacitated at the time, but he could not think of that possibility and still breathe.

Decorated tables remained untouched as Avon guards and family assembled in the great hall. After combing the area until nightfall, they all returned to share information and regroup for another search.

“Mae took one of our service trucks from the carriage house.” Fear thickened Rosa's voice, woven with disbelief. “She does this often enough to gather materials off the
island that it didn't warrant the guard's concern. Aeron is missing as well.”

“Mae is one of us,” Tesni argued as doubts poisoned the air.

Angered by their protective assertions, Cormack snapped, “It was Mae.” It had to be. “Elen would not have relaxed her guard around Aeron.”

“They might still return.” A hopeful comment from an asinine guard who knew nothing about Elen.

“No. Cormack is right.” Luc understood Elen's practical mind. His features were strained with that knowledge. “She wouldn't have left willingly without telling anyone her plans.”

“I was assigned to guard her.” Cormack paced as fear and guilt roiled into words. “I should have been with her. I should—”

“My sister was taken from
my
territory,” Luc cut him off, growling low under his breath. “From
my
home. And by someone we all trusted. If you must blame someone, then blame me.”

“We've expanded our search to a wider radius.” Porter placed his hand on Cormack's shoulder.

“Leave off!” Cormack shrugged away the man's condolences. “I'm not in fucking mourning.” He shook from sheer rage fueled by shock and wanted no touch but hers. He didn't know whether to collapse or rip out someone's throat. “I'm going for another run,” he growled. “I'll circle the river again and see if I can pick up her scent.” He reached the top landing when Gareth filled the door, blocking his path.

The anguish on the guard's face tore a hole in Cormack's chest. Gareth gave a slight shake of his head, a gesture that expressed horror without words. “We . . .” His voice clogged
as he looked away. “I am sorry. We found Mae outside of Avon. What is left of her,” he added quietly, “and Elen . . .” He gave another sorrowful shake of his head.

“Fuck you!” Staggering back, Cormack stormed, “It's not Elen. It's
not
her! It can't be her.”

Silence filled the great hall, silence and downcast eyes—and then growls as their beasts unleashed.

“Come.” It was Luc's voice, cold, still in control, but deadly. “Let us go see what's been found.”

“Shouldn't he stay here?” Gareth looked to Luc as he spoke.

Lucky for the man, Luc said, “No. He is my sister's mate. He'll hurt anyone who tries to stop him.”

*   *   *

Elen awakened to darkness, a space so black that not even shadows moved. Her head hurt and her body ached. A soft mattress held her weight. Woozy and gripped by thirst, she tried to sit up, flinching from the pain of her efforts. Her right arm throbbed. Terror gripped her chest and stole her breath. Her ankles were weighted, and the clang of metal echoed in the black space as she tried to move her arms and legs. Shackles bound her to the metal frame.

Stay calm,
she thought.
Stay calm and feel.
The air was dank and absent of life, she forced herself to inhale nonetheless. Reaching out her senses, she found nothing that answered her call. She was enclosed by stone and surrounded by metal. Even the blankets smelled of chemicals and polyester woven by machines. Nothing in this room lived, nothing but her. Wherever she was, nature was far beyond her reach.

Calm be damned. She screamed.

*   *   *

With his eyes closed, Taliesin lay naked within wild blackberry brambles, allowing their sharp thorns to slash his flesh. He must feel pain to bear his life for those who hurt because of him. If not physical pain, he would only turn to drink. Still might before the end of this wretched night. As the son of an earth goddess, he was not limited to one animal's form and had flown to Avon as a golden hawk, then farther north to the land Pendaran owned, where he shifted and waited in the shadows of the storm he created. The thorns did not drain enough blood for what he had done.

Even knowing what was to come, he jerked when he heard Cormack's disjointed bellow pierce the night; half sobs, half snarls, and then the screeching of a wounded wolf. Animals fled in a thunder of scurrying feet because of that sound. Like a torture that never ended, Taliesin had heard the man's desolate cry repeated again and again in his dreams over the last six months, a vision foreseen that couldn't be unseen. And all because of his interference at Avon's battle. He listened now because he deserved to suffer its sound.

In cruel clarity, his Sight forced more predictions into his memory. The past, present and future collided in a personal mind-fuck. He saw Luc grip Cormack around his chest as they collapsed together in a heap of shared torment. In Castell Avon, Rosa escorted three former Walkers across a bridge and banished them from her home. In the deep bowels of a dungeon that had once held a witch's daughter, he heard Elen's screams, felt her fear, her heartbreak. And Merin—he shook his head and scrunched his eyes, for what good it did—he couldn't watch Merin's reaction, so he moved on to lands more west, where Dylan met with Isabeau
and other leaders. But as Pendaran predicted, dissension and doubts infested their decisions, and they chose to keep to their own territories.

Council members grew bolder and chaos ensued.

Because of him.

Taliesin wept.

Storm clouds erupted in the sky. Fat drops of icy rain fell on his face. They tasted of elements and power. His mother wept too, and her tears had the ability to cause far more devastation than his.

Hours passed. Voices raged. Cries resonated through the forest, both human and beast. He'd chosen a spot he knew wouldn't be found, but Taliesin was forced to visit his mother when the rain turned to acid on his skin. Her sorrow destroyed the world and sickened mortals in its path; it required action before more deaths were caused because of him. Rising from the brambles, he shifted and flew to Castell Avon. He didn't hide his approach, nor was he denied access. He kept spare clothing in the former tombs of the Walkers, now empty of bodies. Returning back to his human form, he dressed before visiting the child.

Rosa was with Audrey when he knocked on her chamber door. They sat together on a bed covered with stuffed animals and soft blankets, the child's face hiding within her adoptive mother's arms.

“I knew you would come.” Rosa's mouth thinned, and those damning violet eyes lifted to him. Her animosity toward him never wavered, proof of her sharp perception.

Accepting her judgment, he said quietly, “I need to speak with Ceridwen.” As the keeper of the Walkers, Rosa wouldn't deny his request.

Audrey snuggled closer to her new mother, her big eyes
shiny with tears. When he'd first learned a child had been assigned as his new messenger, he'd wanted to care for her himself, a selfish thought soon discarded. Everyone he cared for ended up dead, and he did not want her on his conscience with the rest.

“Hello, Audrey.” Crossing the room, he sat next to her on the bed.

“Hi.” Her voice was small, unlike her normal vivacity. Perceptive creatures, children absorbed the emotions of those around them, especially this one. “The lady is sad.”

“I know.” He placed his hand next to hers, turning it palm up. “I would like to see her if I could.”

Nodding, she curled her hand inside of his. As soon as they touched he was awakened in the Vale, a world of dreams created by his mother. The trees that lined her imaginary path darkened with gloom. Gray leaves withered and hung from stems. This was not the spirit world of earth. No elements danced in this place of imaginings, just emptiness and glances without touch.

His mother stood on the path with arms crossed around her stomach. Long golden hair fell to her waist. Her eyes shadowed as she turned to face him. “I would take this pain from you if I could.”

Expecting anger, her words surprised him, as did her reddened appearance that hadn't come from tears, at least not hers. “What happened to your face?”

She sighed, and the Vale sighed with her, dropping dead leaves on an empty ground. Her attention turned to the child. His messenger heard their thoughts as well. Handled with care and lectured about secrecy, but still a child—and his nightmares did not belong in her mind.

“Audrey, I will speak with Taliesin alone. Do you understand?”

An impertinent voice returned, “I won't be able to hear you anymore, but I can't let go of his hand.”

“Very good,” Ceridwen returned with praise. Audrey didn't like to be excluded. “We will visit together afterward.” Then she waved her arm and blunted the child from the dream.

Satisfied their young messenger could no longer hear their conversation, she turned back to Taliesin. “I am not immune to the powers of my brethren. Hafwen has been barred from returning. She is not pleased.” Welts pocked Ceridwen's face and arms with evidence of the pixie's displeasure. “I have let Hafwen help as much as I dare. Elen must face the rest of this battle on her own.”

“Pendaran will destroy her gentle heart.”

“Do not be so sure. You may see some of their futures, but not all, and you do not see their souls.” A spark lit within his mother's gaze. “Her spirit is strong enough to change her fate. The Great Oak grows again because of her.”

“Is it large enough for travel?”

“The trial has begun.” Her cold response evaded a subject that caused her shame. “No travel is allowed between worlds until the worst of it ends.”

“And yet I must live among them and do nothing to help,” he spat. “I hide in shadows like a coward when I would lead their army—”

“You are
no
coward!” Ceridwen interrupted with harsh reprimand. “But you
are
my son and your help will unbalance their world. You must learn to accept who you are or more harm will be done.”

“The harm has already been done.” A bitter laugh fell from his mouth. “And now another field will fill with blood because of me.”

“Taliesin . . .” A shadowy hand lifted across his face, a
mirage of a caress, since he felt no touch in this place of dreams, only the warmth of a small palm that covered his in reality. “That is my bane to bear as much as yours. I am not faultless, nor am I unmoved. Humans are curious creatures. Even in all their weakness I have witnessed the greatest acts of courage. Valor transcends our worlds, and we are all powerless to its call.”

“And then more shifters are born,” Taliesin taunted. And the cycle of his cursed life continued. His mother meddled where she shouldn't, and then lectured him for doing the same.

Her absent shrug carried no shame. “Some of them have proven worthy of my gift, others have not. I have been tempted many times to end them all, but as long as you live among them, I will continue to reward the ones who have earned the right to walk by your side.”

“Merin said as much.” He didn't miss the underlying warning in his mother's message—as if he needed more weight on his conscience. Her reaction came from fear, he knew, because of his actions on Avon's bridge. Her threat, however, was clear: If he died, so too would they.

“I do have a particular fondness for that warrior,” she admitted. “As do you, but they must fight the rest of this battle on their own—”

“Or more warriors will fall,” he finished.

“There are dark times ahead, Taliesin.” Her voice softened with concern. “Promise me you will not find solace in drink.”

“I can't make that promise.” As she well knew. “But I will try.”

“That is all I ask.”

“I won't be returning for a while,” he told her.

“I understand.”

Animosity usually preceded their farewells, but this one
was oddly calm for what was to come. Focusing on the small hand that covered his, Taliesin returned to the reality of his life, where Rosa glared at him with violet eyes and tucked Audrey under blankets, as if to buffer her from his touch.

“Will you help us?” Rosa asked, her voice daring him to prove her hatred of him false.

“You don't want my help.” He offered only truth. “What has happened this night is a result of the last time I tried.”

That thought made her frown. “Where will you go?”

“I don't know,” he said, and walked into the night to disappear into the mortal world.