Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) (7 page)

They walked together toward the caves, and the people hiding within came out to meet them when they heard the songs and laughter. Loved ones raced into each other’s arms. Fathers tossed children into the air, enjoying the squeals of delight from the little ones as they flew first up and then down into the safety of their fathers’ strong arms.

“Phillip! Pip, boy! Come and greet your father!” Hugh’s joy beamed as he searched the milling children for his wayward son.

Unsteady feet pulled Meggy toward Lord Hugh, her face pasty white, her lip trembling as she spoke. “Phillip isn’t with you, my lord?” Her voice came out shaking almost as badly as Meggy, herself.

The words took a moment to reach through Hugh’s elation, but when they did, he grabbed Meggy by the upper arms and lifted her cleanly from the ground. Shocked, the people went deathly silent.

Hugh was rigid with fear, and his fingers dug savagely into Meggy’s arms. He shook her roughly, and bellowed into her face, “What are you talking about? Why would he be with me? You were to be watching him! You! Where is my son? Speak Meggy! Where is my son?”

Dafyd’s own strong hands were on Hugh’s arm now, and he spoke as calmly as he could. “Lord, release my wife.”

Hugh looked into Meggy’s eyes, saw the tears that ran freely down her face, and then looked to his own hands clamped like vices around the soft flesh of her arms. He set her down, and spoke gently to both Dafyd and Meggy. “Forgive me.”

The look of humiliation on his face coupled with the fear he felt for his son, went to Meggy’s own, soft heart. Dafyd took his hand from Hugh’s arm and stepped back. Meggy took a step forward, and lay her gentle palm against Hugh’s face, forgiveness and sympathy in her eyes. “We came directly here as you ordered,” she said rapidly, for time was of the essence now. Phillip was in the rear helping to watch over the little ones. I saw him enter the cave with the others, and he seemed to be helping as best he could, but after we had been here for some time I noticed he was gone. We all searched for him, Lord, but we could not risk leaving the cave and drawing the Breken to the other children. I swear to you, I thought he had gone to join you. He is such a little man now, and so like his sister.” Meggy choked on the sob she desperately tried to contain.

“Daniel, Eldan, Dearra, with me!” Hugh boomed. “The rest of you, fan out and search!”

The joy of victory turned to desperation as every person not badly injured ran, walked, or limped in search of the little boy. Hugh fought back the crippling fear he felt, and ran wildly to the beach and the retreating Breken ships. The sight that greeted him when he arrived was like an icy dagger plunged straight into his heart. All four of Maj’s ships were in flames. Clouds of thick, black smoke billowed in the air as the fire licked at the sails and jumped from one rope to another in the rigging. But that was nothing at all when compared to the sight of his son gripped tightly in the arms of a Breken warrior, his legs kicking wildly in desperation. His Breken captor smiled a cruel grin as Pip called out to his father, terror evident in his voice. Hugh watched in horror as the ship slipped silently into the fog.

Dearra sank to her knees. Sobs of pain and grief racked her small frame, and she collapsed to the ground, curled into a tight ball. Never had she known this kind of crippling pain. Even the sadness of her mother’s death had not touched her so deeply. While her mother waited for them in Heaven, Pip went into Hell itself, accompanied by the vile Breken, who would not care that he was just a sweet little boy. What hideous future awaited him in that foul land the Breken called home?

Hugh was no less crushed by Pip’s abduction, but as leader of Maj, he fought to control that pain. His shame over his behavior with Meggy still fresh in his mind, he would not allow himself to lose control again. His people needed his strength as did his daughter, and he feared that if he let himself slip again, he might completely lose himself to a darkness from which there would be no return.

Hugh leaned down, scooped his daughter into his arms, and whispered to her, “We’ll get him back, Dearra. I swear we’ll get him back.”

Daniel took off the heavy, leather vest he wore and wrapped it around the hilt of Dearra’s sword. Praying the leather would be enough to protect his already damaged fingers, he gently lifted the sword, and then followed behind Hugh and Dearra as they made their way back to the castle. It wasn’t far, but time seemed to lose all meaning as they trudged in silence.

The people of Maj kept a respectful distance from the small procession that made their way through the gates and headed toward the main building. They were all in a state of shock. One moment they had been singing and laughing, and only heartbeats later their world had been completely changed.

Hugh’s arms never showed the least sign of strain, nor did his step falter as he carried Dearra up and around the winding stair to her room. He used his booted foot to nudge open her chamber door without breaking stride. Dearra made small keening sounds, but did not speak. Hugh lay his daughter gently down on her bed and turned quietly from the room.

Daniel looked down with unblinking eyes at Dearra’s form, curled on her side. He was torn between trying to offer comfort where there could be none, and following Hugh. Knowing there was nothing he could do for Dearra at the moment, he chose the latter. He set the sword beside her on the bed and left the room, and pulled the door softly shut behind him.

Dearra roused slightly and reached a hesitant hand out to tug the sword closer to her side, taking comfort in its cool and solid strength. What was she going to do? The Breken had Pip. The Maj ships were destroyed. Many of the Maj were injured. It was hopeless.

Well, then, if it’s hopeless, you may as well just jump off the nearest cliff and be done with it.

Dearra bolted upright at the voice that seemed to come from all around her and inside her head at the same time.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” She meant to speak with authoritative calm, but the words came out in a pitiful squeak.

You really aren’t very bright, are you?
came the response, the voice flowing around her and through her.

She leapt from the bed, dropped to the floor, and looked beneath it.

Not even warm,
taunted the voice.

Dearra sprang to the window and tore aside the heavy drapery…nothing.

It will come to you. I know you can do this. Connect the dots, girl.

Dearra’s gaze drifted back to her bed and the sword that waited for her on top of the soft coverlet. But it couldn’t be, could it? It was impossible, wasn’t it? Dearra took a small, tentative step back toward the sword. What else could it be? She took another step.

Ah, success! There may be hope for you after all, girl.

Coming to a stop at the bedside, Dearra let her weak knees have their way, and she sank to the floor in shock.

“How are you…? I mean…what are you…? I mean…Wow! You can talk!” The words tumbled from her in a confused jumble.

Yes, yes, very good, girl. You’ve not only managed to grasp the obvious, but you almost succeeded in completing a coherent sentence. Very, very impressive. I can see we’re going to get on famously.

It
was
impressive, when you considered it, Dearra thought, that without facial expression to assist, one could convey that level of sarcasm.

Thank you; I try.

“Have you always been able to talk?”

Certainly. I am incredibly intelligent, even for my kind.

“
Your
kind? Are there other swords like you?”

Of course not; I am quite unique. And as to ‘my kind’, well, that is a story for another day,
if
I decide I can tolerate you well enough to share that kind of personal information with you.

Dearra sniffed lightly. “Not
too
full of yourself, are you?”

The sword paused, as if considering the question seriously before responding.
No, I should think I am full of myself just the right amount.

Dearra wrapped her arms around herself as a fit of giggles shook her from head to toe. She slowly regained control, as the events of only an hour ago came flooding back, and a frown creased her brow.

The deep sadness was about to take hold again when the sword spoke brusquely.
Now, now, none of that. We have much to discuss and much to do, and curling yourself back into a useless ball on the bed won’t get us anywhere. Unless, of course, you wish to reconsider the whole notion of death by cliff. That would certainly save me a fair bit of trouble.

Dearra scowled at the sword and snapped, “No, I have myself quite under control now, thank you.”

Good. Now, what else would you like to know before we save Darius?

“Well, I guess I would like to know…Wait—who’s Darius?”

Excellent, girl! You grasped that one much more quickly. You’re improving.

Exasperation dripping from Dearra’s tongue as she fought to control her simmering temper, she said, “Could you please just answer the question?”

Darius is the Breken warrior I saved from you earlier today. The one that little man so thoughtlessly clubbed on the head.

Dearra was stunned. “Wait! He lives?” she said.

Wouldn’t make much sense to save him if he were already dead, would it?

Dearra was overwhelmed. The image of the handsome Breken warrior shimmered in her mind.
Questions came in a steady stream and her pulse quickened.
How had he managed to survive such a vicious blow to the head? How did the sword know he was alive, and why was it so important she save him?

Are you quite finished?

It was amazing how quickly Dearra had gotten used to someone responding to the thoughts she hadn’t spoken out loud. Strangely, it felt like remembering a skill she had been born with and forgotten from lack of use.

Firstly, I have no idea. The Breken have hard heads, what can I say? Secondly, I know a lot of things you don’t and do not feel the need to share the whys and hows of it with you, and lastly, because we need him to get back that little brother of yours so you won’t spend the rest of your life in a useless catatonic state. Oh, and he’s your destiny, which I suppose you may find an interesting piece of trivia, though hardly useful.

Dearra nearly choked. “My what?”

He’s not going to be your anything if we don’t get moving. They’re about to find him. You may want to hurry things along a bit, girl.

Scooping the sword from the bed, Dearra raced from her room and down the winding staircase, past the shocked faces of Daniel and Hugh, and out into the courtyard.

Not knowing what else to do, the men followed behind her. The look they shared clearly conveyed their fear that Dearra had lost her mind, perhaps as a side effect to the terrible loss of Pip. They were not really trying to catch her, just follow her to make sure she wouldn’t hurt herself in her mad dash to Cyrus only new where.

Coming to a skidding halt at the gate, she asked out loud, “Where now? I can’t remember where I was.”

Take the path east out of the castle, cross the stream, and you should hear them. Hurry, girl!

As she sprinted over the bridge, familiar voices came to her. The hatred and anger in their tone made her feet slow to a gentle trot so she could make out what they were saying more clearly.

“Run him through!”

“He’s half dead already.”

“Evil spawn doesn’t deserve to live.”

Dearra felt shock cross her features as she came around the small clump of bushes that had hidden the scene from view. This was not the behavior she expected from the people of Maj. Certainly, they had a right to be angry; their home had been invaded, their lives put in jeopardy, friends and family injured, and dear Pip had been taken from them. This last thought sent a shiver through her. But to speak with such bitter hatred and eager anticipation of the death of another, even a Breken, made Dearra’s blood run cold. Then she saw
him
and it all clicked together.

Jacob stood back and a little away from the others, but there was no doubt in her mind as to who had stirred the people into this angry mob. Jacob was not born to the isle but had joined them three seasons ago. He seemed a quiet and unassuming addition to their group, but wherever trouble was, so too would be Jacob, usually whispering in someone’s ear. Her father tolerated Jacob, hoping that, eventually, the people of Maj would rub off on him, making him into a useful and productive part of the community. Dearra had her doubts as to their potential for success, but it seemed important to her father so she held her tongue.

Sitting part way up, his back propped against a large stone, Darius held his sword out in front of him. It was a futile gesture; his arm shook so badly from the effort it took simply to hold the sword, there would be no force behind any swing he could manage. His black hair was matted from the head wound he had received from Daniel, and the blood that had run so freely had dried to form a gruesome mask covering the left side of his face. Dearra’s eyes met his for just a moment, but it was long enough to see recognition flitter across his features.

“What’s going on here?” she said evenly, meeting each pair of eyes that looked to her own.

Hugh and Daniel walked around the same cluster of bushes Dearra had passed and moved to stand behind her.

“I said, what’s going on here?” her tone became sharper.

Several of the people dropped their heads. Shame washed over them as they realized what they had been about to do.

Jacob stepped forward, and with no hint of remorse in his voice as he addressed Dearra, said, “We were about to exterminate a pest, Dearra. You’ve been through enough today. Return to the castle, and let us deal with this unpleasant business.”

“No,” she stated simply.

Oh, that’s wonderful, girl. I am sure everything will be fine now.

“You be quiet,” she mumbled. “I can handle this.”

Concerned glances flitted about the assembled group at what appeared to be Dearra speaking to herself. But one set of eyes widened almost imperceptibly as Darius, from his prone position, looked first at Dearra and then to the sword she held.

“I don’t understand, Dearra,” Jacob said, speaking as if to a half-wit. “No? You wish to kill him yourself, then?”

“There has been enough pain today, Jacob. Are you so eager to bloody your hands against this defenseless man? Besides, he may prove useful in restoring my brother to us.”

Very nice, what an excellent notion, girl. Did you think of that all by yourself?

I’m trying to diffuse the situation,
Dearra thought.
Be still, and let me try to fix this. That
is
what you wanted isn’t it?

Humph,
came the reply.

“Be reasonable, Dearra,” Jacob whined like a child who was not getting his way. “He’s dangerous. Let us put an end to him quickly. It will be more merciful than his kind would be for any of us.”

Hugh stepped forward and put his hand upon Dearra’s shoulder, silencing the sharp retort he knew was coming. “Dearra speaks wisely. This Breken may indeed prove useful in returning Phillip to us. In any case, I will not make a decision that could affect us all in haste. Take him to the keep and lock him in the lower store room. The apples have not yet been harvested; use that room. Bar the door, and put two guards outside.”

Disarming him with ease, they picked the young man roughly from the ground, and half dragged, half carried him toward the castle. Dearra trailed a short way behind to make sure they did not get too enthusiastic in their efforts to hurry him along.

Darius’s eyes were everywhere at once. He surveyed his surroundings anxiously, trying to commit to memory any opportunity for escape. What he could do to escape an island, with no boat, and no one looking for him, was a detail he ignored for the moment. At that instant, he was simply grateful to be breathing; he would work the rest out later.

They took him to a room one level below the main keep. It was cool and dry and held the faintest aroma of fruit. He leaned against the dirt wall and slid less than gracefully to the smooth, plank floor. Empty baskets of varying sizes were strewn about in haphazard stacks, waiting to be needed again.

Dearra took one last, long, lingering look, and then firmly shut the door. Jacob volunteered to be one of the guards, and since she could think of no reason to object, she let him have his way. She was comforted, however, when the much milder tempered Bryan stepped forward as the second volunteer.

Dearra’s footsteps echoed through the deserted corridors as she made her way back to her personal chamber. Her thoughts were a twisted mass as she relived, over and over, the moment she saw her brother on the Breken ship, his innocent face pale, and his eyes wide in fear. The cold black, eyes of his captor were too far away to really be visible, yet she knew they had been filled with triumph at his victory over the people of Maj. Then her mind remembered the eyes of another, golden brown, holding her captive and refusing to let her look away, and she shook her head trying to rid herself of the image. Dearra swept up the stairs into her room and dropped the sword onto her bed, unceremoniously. She scanned her room until she found what she was looking for, and made her way to the jumbled pile of objects near the fireplace.

Where do you think you’re going?

“To my father and Daniel, and then back to our strange…um…guest. His wound needs attention,” Dearra explained. She pushed aside a pair of mud-caked pants and a torn vest she kept meaning to repair, and scooped up the bag in which she kept her supply of healing medicines, assorted bandages, and basic medical instruments.

Fine. Leave me here, then. Abandon me. I’ll just wait until you are content to give me your attention once more.

“Yeah,” Dearra responded, distracted. “That would be great, thanks.” Turning back toward the bed, she asked, “Hey, what’s your name?” almost casually.

My name, girl, is ancient. I am descended from… well, never mind that. My name is a thing of power and awe. I am called Brin’du Drak’Tir,
the sword said brimming with pride.

Dearra absorbed the name, briefly, finding it cumbersome and awkward in her mouth. “Ok, I’ll just call you Brin,” she responded, pleased with her solution to the problem of the funny name.

Decidedly offended, taken aback that anyone could be so casual about a thing of such monumental importance, the sword shot back,
Fine! And I shall call you Big Fuzzy Animal with Antlers.

“Yeah, yeah. Deal,” Dearra said, as she whisked from the room.

***

Forgetting her plans to speak to her father and Daniel first, Dearra flew through the halls and down the short set of stairs leading to the storerooms. Heart pounding, she came to a stop in front of Bryan and Jacob. They looked at Dearra, and then at one another in confusion.