Chapter 1
Harvest, Maine
A small farming community
“Don’t do this, Lad. You should get some rest,” Hugh advised, using the word Lad now as an almost second name for his nephew.
“We’ve had this argument before, Hugh. Don’t worry about me. I’ll feel better after I’ve been outside.” Blain stared out the screen door knowing his uncle was right. He couldn’t get over the illness plaguing him, keep up with the farm work, and still go out in the woods at night. But it wasn’t something he could help. He simply had to go, or face being even sicker. He dragged his gaze away from the woods and glanced over his shoulder at Hugh once more.
“What about tomorrow? If you go out tonight, how will you feel then?” Hugh asked, with frustration in his voice.
“I’ll worry about that later. I appreciate your concern, but don’t wait up. I can deal with this,” Blain lied.
Once he was outside and away from the farmhouse, he stripped off his clothing and ran naked, as though his life depended upon being in contact with nature.
The truth was, he believed it really did. Because he was weak, he had to push himself, but the effort paid off. When he finally reached the end of a very long forest path, he stopped and rested against a tree. The illness already seemed to be leaving his body. He dragged fresh, clean air into his lungs and sank to his knees.
The doctor had been unable to tell him why he was sometimes so weak that he could barely move. Was his sickness something rare? Something they couldn’t diagnose and for which there was no cure?
He didn’t know why running naked made a difference in how he felt, but he had to do it. It was an obsession. And because that yearning was so abnormal, he wondered if his mind was failing along with his health. Would he not only end up dying slowly, but going insane as well?
The fear that he might, scared the hell out of him. There were only two people in his life that he could go to with his dread—his girlfriend Rhiannon and his Uncle Hugh.
He’d tried telling Rhiannon about the malady plaguing him, but talking wasn’t one of her favorite pastimes. She preferred raw, unadulterated sex. As much as she could get. At one time, it had pleased him to give it to her. Now, even sex made him feel drained and weak; long after the act was done.
Only by running in the woods at night did he find any peace. Afterward, he felt whole again; strong and ready to face a new day. Hugh was the only one who knew about his nightly nude dashes through the nearby forest, and he didn’t seem to consider such actions odd. And that, in and of itself, was bizarre. Anyone else would have called a shrink and had him committed by now.
How long could the cycle of work, illness, and running nude at night last? It was an absurd way to live.
Since medical science had no answers, he relented to the call of nature and let that be his treatment.
The longer he stayed in the woods, the better he felt. So, he lingered to gather more strength.
A full moon hung overhead like an ornament, and it vaguely reminded him of something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Had the moon’s surface been shiny and cast a reflection, its appearance would seem more appropriate to him. He had a faint sense that what he was thinking of, or remembering, might have been something out of the past. Something he’d heard one of his parents speak of.
Whatever it was, the moon’s surface just needed a little imaginary rearranging, and he might be able to grab onto the remembrance. The more he struggled to recall that elusive memory, however, the vaguer the entire concept became.
He sighed and gave up. Then, he looked toward the forest again and saw something that shouldn’t be there.
In the moon’s strong light, it was clearly visible.
Someone had deeply carved a picture of a stick man into the side of an oak tree, then slashed through the image with a sharp blade. He walked toward the image, lifted his hand to touch it, but immediately began to feel ill again. The coincidence was not only crazy, it was impossible. Touching a vandal’s graffiti couldn’t make someone sick. Yet here he was, engulfed by dizziness and nausea all over again.
He fought off the symptoms by trying to replace them with an emotional cure.
Anger.
This was his property. No one was supposed to be out here defacing his trees. As he stared at the carving, he acknowledged that it was an unusual way to mark the bark. Kids would have scratched in their initials, or something they could see later and lay claim to. This was something altogether different—something sinister. The event caused him to add anxiety to the list of the other problems afflicting him. Who the hell was in his woods, and what were they doing to the trees?
***
“You’ve brought everything?”
“I have it all, just as you have asked.”
“Then leave it and do as you’ve been told.”
“I will, Mistress. But there are easier ways to do this. I could simply put something into his food. We can’t keep sneaking around forever. Someone will see us, or he’ll discover trespassers have been on his land. It’s risky.”
The older of the women pushed back the hood of her cloak and sneered. “Have I taught you nothing? We’ll have the police down on us if we do it your way. His parents died within a short time of one another. That might seem odd to some. But killing the boy now will make those deaths seem positively suspicious. That’s why I didn’t take them all out at once. My way is best. Slowly, one at a time, and using magic to our advantage. No one must ever know what really happened. Besides, it will be more painful for him this way. And his lingering pain is exactly what I want. We haven’t planned all this only to screw up by rushing. I want Shayla here first. I’ll have my revenge!” The older woman paused and looked up into the moonlit sky. “You’ll do this my way, or you can clear out. Do you understand?”
“Fine,” the other woman responded. “But he knows something is wrong. His powers of resistance are stronger than his parents’, or he’d be dead already. We don’t know how much more we’ll have to do to kill him, and we may not be able to keep this up now that his uncle is with him. We’ll surely get caught!”
“After tonight, we may not have to go out there again. I’ll do my job now. You do yours later, just as I’ve instructed,” the cloaked, older woman said, as she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Go now!”
The younger cloaked figure bowed and quietly walked away.
***
Hugh walked into the hallway, picked up his cell phone from a table, and punched in some numbers.
“Calling friends?” Blain asked as he brought a large glass of ice water to his lips.
The older man quickly ended the call, and put his cell phone down. He turned around to face Blain.
“I thought you would be outside for a while longer, Lad. I-I didn’t even sense…that is…I didn’t know you were back.”
“I felt so much better that I cut my run a little short.”
“You’re soaked in sweat. Go upstairs and get cleaned up, Lad. I’ll bring you some fresh lemonade.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Blain responded.
As always, Hugh was a mystery. He knew the older man wouldn’t tell him about the attempted phone call, and it wasn’t as if it really made a difference. But it was just one more piece of a puzzle that, so far, resisted being solved. His uncle was always calling someone; always surreptitiously and always speaking in a soft voice.
Uncle Hugh.
The man had literally shown up on his doorstep just a few short weeks earlier. The initial shock that he had a living relative was replaced by the emotional attachment he quickly formed with the older man.
Hugh helped fill the gaping emotional hole that had been left by his parents’ deaths.
He walked upstairs, shed the clothing he’d put on after running, and made his way to the shower. It helped knowing that Hugh was here, that he wasn’t completely alone. But why hadn’t his parents told him he had an uncle? From the way Hugh spoke about his parents, they had all loved each other very much. So why all the secrecy? And were there other relatives he hadn’t been told about?
Even if there were, he’d probably never get to meet them. He wouldn’t be able to lie about how sick he really was any longer. The pain and illness seemed to be with him almost constantly now.
A loud knock on his bedroom door brought him out of his somber reverie. He stepped out of the shower, blotted his body dry with a towel, then pulled on his bathrobe. He strolled to the bedroom door, and opened it.
Hugh walked in bearing a tray. On it was a pitcher of cool, fresh lemonade and a plate of shortbread cookies.
“This snack will fix you right up,” Hugh said as he put the food and beverage down on a bedside table.
“Thanks.” Blain paused until Hugh was through laying out the grub. “I, uh, don’t suppose I could finally talk you into telling me about Mom, Dad…and yourself?” He had an urgent need to know about the secrecy surrounding his family.
“All right, Lad. I’ll answer what I can for now. You’ll know everything when it’s time.”
Blain laughed and spread out his hands expressively. “Now, that’s exactly what I’m wondering about. Why can’t I just get a straight answer?”
“Trust me, Blain. It’s best to take some news in small doses.”
“It’s that bad?” he asked with a glass of lemonade halfway to his lips.
“No, not at all. But there are some things you’re just not ready to hear. I can tell you that your parents and I were very close, and that they didn’t want to leave the UK. They loved one another and had to go.”
“You’ve said all that before. But why did they have to leave? What was wrong in the UK?”
Hugh’s response was lost by a text message alert on his cell phone.
Blain picked the device up, read the message and sighed. Then, he walked into his closet, grabbed some clothing and returned a few moments later.
“Lad, you’re not going out?” Hugh asked in disbelief.
“Yep. Rhi just texted me. I’m off to town and don’t know when I’ll be back. So, don’t wait up.” He saw Hugh shake his head in disapproval.
Clearly, his relationship with Rhiannon Stone troubled his uncle. Hugh frowned, but did that often when Rhi’s name was mentioned.
However, that was the extent of his uncle’s disapproval. The older man never actually said anything against his girlfriend, other than to occasionally make an offhand remark about how he should get more rest and quit gallivanting.
Like being in the woods, Blain couldn’t help the urge to see Rhiannon. If he was as ill as he believed—and since the doctor couldn’t find anything wrong—perhaps his malady was more mental. If that was the case, what harm could there be in spending time with a sexy, desirable woman?
If it turned out that his intuition about his illness was correct, he might have very little time left. That was even more reason to enjoy life while and as he could.
He tried to push his fears aside and concentrate on having a good time. There was nothing to be done about his situation tonight, and a Rhi could take his mind off any worries. She always did.
***
The Shire or Enchanted Forest
England
“Damn! I’ll never get this right,” Afton O’Malley complained as she pushed her hair over her shoulder. Even the powerful presence of the rowan and oak trees, specially planted for those less adept in Druid powers, didn’t seem to help. She knew she’d never learn to conjure if she couldn’t focus.
Frustrated and out of patience, she carefully looked around the clearing. Then, she picked up her Crain Bag—a carryall containing crystals, herb bundles, scissors, and other paraphernalia needed to make charms. She started to walk into the cool, inviting woods.
“One moment, Afton O’Malley. Where do you think you’re going?”
Afton inwardly cringed as Shayla, her mentor, stepped from the shadows. The afternoon breeze blew the older woman’s white Druid robe and cape against her body. Her silver hair was braided and hung down her back.
Afton knew the woman meant to appear imposing. Then, she caught site of her oldest brother. He was walking out of the woods, just behind Shayla.
She groaned and momentarily forgot about the sorceress. Gawain wore one of his eternal and infuriating I’ll protect you expressions. If her powers were better, she should have sensed their approach much sooner.
“Shayla. Gawain. I didn’t know anyone was around.” She tried to mask her anger as she faced her teacher and brother. Someone was always snooping on her. “I was just going to take a few moments in the woods to gather some wild herbs…for a new tea I’m blending,” she lied.
“No, you weren’t. You were about to go off…meandering,” Shayla claimed. “However, you’ll not leave this clearing until you’ve conjured wind, or at least a small breeze!”
“May as well break wind,” a small voice said from under a large fern. “It’d be a whole lot quicker. More accurate, too.”
Gawain turned and angrily addressed the little elf in the ferns. “Keep quiet, Pluck! When Afton wants your opinion, she’ll ask.”
“Don’t be impatient with Pluck simply because Afton has failed to concentrate,” Shayla admonished.
Afton frowned. “Who asked Pluck to spy on me anyway? He should mind his own bloody business.” She placed her hands on her hips and glowered at the brown-clad man, barely visible in the foliage.
She watched as he boldly came out of the undergrowth, hopped up on a nearby rock and stood there. By getting up on the rock as he had, his diminutive height was now nearer to her own five and a half feet.
“For your information, Shayla asked me to keep an eye on you. You’re not concentrating on your lessons,” Pluck told her as he straightened his brown pointed cap over equally pointed ears.
“That’ll be enough from both of you!” Shayla raised a graceful hand to stop the argument. “You may go, Pluck. I want to speak to Afton alone.”
When the elf smugly glared at Afton, as if he’d had the last word, Shayla clapped her hands together sharply. Pluck jumped from the rock and ran into the woods as if some unseen horror was chasing him.
“You may go, too, Gawain.” Shayla waved a hand at him in dismissal.
Gawain nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll be in the next clearing, Flower. Come get me when you’re through here, and I’ll walk you home.”
“Shayla…you sent Pluck to spy on me?” Afton asked as she watched her brother leave. Then, she dropped her gaze and focused on the bare toes peeking from beneath her white robe.
“I wouldn’t have done it had you been more conscientious about your conjuring. You’re always off somewhere, with your head in the clouds, my girl. I can’t be everywhere, so Pluck watches you on my behalf.”
“But…he’ll tell everyone in the woods that, no matter how hard I try, I still can’t summon a minor breeze. Every elf, fairy and gnome in the Order will know I can’t conjure what a child apprentice should be able to. And I’m no child.”
“That’s true, Afton. But you have only yourself to blame. You don’t practice as hard as you’re supposed to. Your inattention to training is why your parents sent you to me. Your brother’s overprotective attitude isn’t helping matters.” Shayla walked to a nearby flat rock and patted the surface next to her. “Are you trying as hard as you can, girl?”
Afton nodded as she sat. “I am, but don’t blame Gawain for being defensive. He thinks he’s helping.” She sighed and attempted to get the sorceress to understand. “I try to concentrate. It’s just that there’s so much to do and to see. And…I wonder about using powers at all.”
“How so?”
“Please don’t be angry, Shayla. But what are such powers used for other than starting fires, and bringing down a little rain now and then? It isn’t as if they’ll be used against any of our own kind. We certainly can’t go into the outside world and display such capabilities. I’d rather concentrate on the Druid rituals, ceremonies and customs.”
“Afton, if our kind is to be protected from the outside world, everyone in the Order must learn all they can about their particular powers. You know this. Fairies learn what they must with glamour. Trolls and pixies learn their powers of camouflage, and you must hone your own skills. If a crisis arises, you may need your powers to help yourself or someone in the Order. Trying to pull it out of thin air, in an emergency, won’t work. The power to summon elements won’t simply come to you without prior preparation. Those elements must be controlled through practice. Many years of it. Look at Gawain. He’s very powerful, and he’s become so through practice.”
“I know. He and everyone else in my family have told me a thousand times that practice makes perfect. But how many times have our kind actually had to use our powers against outsiders? When Gawain goes to London, he never speaks of having to protect himself.”
“He uses his powers more than you realize. He probably doesn’t tell you about the things that happen to him, to keep you and your parents from worrying.”
Afton stared at Shayla in alarm. She opened her mouth to ask about the matter, but Shayla held up a hand to silence her. “I’ll tell you about all that another time. Right now, I believe a change of scene is in order. You’re too attached to these woods, and those who dwell within them. Things here are distracting you.”
Afton waited as Shayla paused and pulled the front of her robe together. As if it were a portent, a cloud blocked out the sun and shadowed them.
“A matter of some urgent business has arisen, and I’ll need an assistant to accompany me on a trip. Would you consider coming along?” Shayla asked.
It wasn’t a request, and Afton knew it. Still, a chance to travel was a boon she’d never expected.
“Shayla, I’d love it! I’ve never been anywhere but England and Scotland. Where would we go? Ireland, or maybe even France?” She smiled at the prospect of seeing more of the world.
“I’m afraid the trip will take us farther away from ancient Celtic ground than that. This journey will be to the States.”
Afton felt her jaw drop, but she blinked and forced herself to recover. “The States? Why would we be needed there? Europe has always contained our most sacred grounds. And you just returned from the States not long ago.”
“Yes, but I’ve received an urgent message from Hugh. He’s found what remains of some deserters,” Shayla told her as she rose from her seat and took several steps away.
“Deserters? From the Order? Goddess above! What will you do to them?” Afton knew that anyone leaving the Order, without permission, could be put to death. The rule was an ancient one meant to protect all magical beings from human discovery. In her twenty-three years, she couldn’t recall the necessity for punishing deserters. No one traveled without asking Shayla first. Simply no one.
“You know as well as I what our law states. However, this is quite an exceptional situation. The two main offenders have met their fate. Only their child remains, and this boy is unaware of his heritage.”
“How could this boy not know of his relationship to the Order?” Afton tilted her head in confusion.
“I told you, this is an exceptional situation. I’ll explain everything later.” Shayla’s advised.
The older woman’s voice had taken on a wistful quality. Afton watched as Shayla’s eyes actually grew teary. It was as if the sorceress was temporarily lost in the past, remembering something painful.
Shaking her head, as if she could clear her mind of distant memories, Shayla spoke again.
“For now, you go back to work on your conjuring skills, young woman. You’ll need the practice before we leave in a week.”
Afton quickly stood and walked to the middle of the clearing. She began to practice her powers again.
She looked at the sky and watched the wind move the clouds about, but the phenomenon was only a force of nature; not a sign of her meager attempts to manipulate the elements. She wondered if she would ever be worthy of her heritage, or bold enough to live her own life without her older brother’s well-intentioned interference.
***
“Are you sure about this, Flower? You’ve never been outside sacred ground,” Gawain said as he watched his sister pack.
Afton sighed and turned to face him. “If Mom, Dad and everyone else has accepted this, why can’t you? And why do you insist on using that ridiculous nickname. I’m all grown up, Gawain. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
He shrugged. “I’ve noticed…then again, so have a lot of men in the Order. I can’t help remembering when I first saw you all those years ago. You were two hours old when I was allowed to hold you. I was only ten, but I felt ancient when you were placed in my arms. You were so small and had the cutest little button nose. And the color of your eyes reminded me of the bluebells that grow in the Goblin Meadow. That’s when I called you Flower. The name just stuck.”
Afton’s eyes misted. How could she be annoyed with her big-hearted sibling, especially when this was the first time she’d heard why he’d bestowed her with that stupid nickname? She’d always assumed he used it to taunt her.
Gawain leaned against the door frame and continued. “You know, you smiled at me, and managed to grab onto my fingers with all the strength of a baby ogre. I knew, then and there, that I would never let anything happen to you. I know what the world outside the sacred forest can be like. You don’t. Despite what the sorceress says, I just don’t want to see you get into trouble, Flower. I worry.”
For a moment, Afton was taken aback. She’d never experienced all this emotion pouring from her oldest brother, and she had to swallow down a large lump in her throat. But, then she remembered Shayla’s assertion that Gawain had been forced to use his powers in the outside world to stay safe. It frightened her to know he’d been at risk.
“Gawain…how many times have you had problems that you haven’t mentioned? Outside, I mean. The sorceress led me to believe you haven’t been so safe.”
“That’s different. I’ve got a bit more experience at this kind of thing, and I—”
“Don’t, Gawain! Don’t go into that big brother mode. You’ve deliberately let us all believe that nothing ever happens to you when you’re traveling outside the sacred lands of the Order. Mom and Dad would be worried sick if they knew you’d had to use your powers to protect yourself. And I’d be just as worried about you, too.”
“There was no use letting them know since everything has always worked out. I’m here. No scrapes, bruises or broken bones.”
Afton knew he was lying. Still, she took courage from his nonchalant attitude. “The sorceress needs me. Goddess only knows why she’s chosen me, but I’m going, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.” Afton firmly snapped her suitcase shut, turned and glared at her oldest sibling.
Gawain looked at the floor and glowered. “Something about this isn’t right. I don’t like it!”
“None of us especially likes it when you’re away, either, but you have to go. Now, so do I. Shayla hasn’t really given me an option. What she says is law. Or do I need to remind you?”
“Okay, Flower. But just be careful. Life outside the Order can be a bitch.”
Afton smiled, walked to where he stood and hugged him hard. As she stepped back, she asked, “Will you ever let me grow up?”
“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest.
“None. So…kiss me goodbye, and I’ll get downstairs to say my farewells to the others.”
Gawain kissed her cheek, quickly hugged her then grabbed her suitcase. “You’ll call?”
She rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
While the rest of her family was understandably concerned, Gawain was proving to be a royal pain in the butt. She loved him dearly, but his interference in her life was becoming annoying. He’d even chased off several beaus, claiming they weren’t good enough for her. Given the choice of fighting one of the biggest men in the Order or letting Afton go, they’d chosen to walk away. Gawain had used their desertion of her to prove that they weren’t worthy. She saw this trip as a way of putting some distance between them—a way of letting everyone else know that she was all grown up and didn’t need coddling any more.
If the sorceress trusted her, then so should they. Besides all that, she really looked forward to the adventure. Something Gawain said, however, stuck in her brain.
Her brother hadn’t been trying to frighten her, but if traveling in the outside world was unsafe for a Druid as powerful as he was, she would be insane not to heed his warning.
There was still that nagging thought that Shayla could have picked someone with a great deal more power than herself. Someone who could actually help, if authorities discovered the false identification all those of the Order used, or if some other serious problem should arise.
She sensed the sorceress hadn’t told her everything. That, more than anything, worried her.
Orders were orders, and she had hers. She kept any fears buried as she kissed her family goodbye.
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