Page 9

Highlands of Scotland

1295

“They only blocked her powers, you say? And yer sure of that? Sure that her powers were no’ stripped from her when they exiled her in time? I canna begin to imagine why they would take such an enormous risk.”

Patrick stared from one woman to the other in disbelief as they discussed the fate of his Syrie as if it were no more than simple gossip about some crofter’s wife in the next town. Orabilis seemed almost giddy as she asked her questions, while Editha nodded her response, her eyes wide.

“Perhaps they dinna ken the danger they created for themselves. I’ve no doubt as to the truth of it. The Goddess herself witnessed their—”

“What is wrong with the two of you?” Patrick interrupted when he could stand it no longer. “The Magic be damned! Whether she has powers or no’ is of no concern to me. It’s Syrie herself who’s important, no’ her Faerie abilities. From what yer saying, she’s lost somewhere in the future, with no’ even her own memories to guide her. We have to do something to bring her home right now.”

“Be still with yer blether, Patrick,” Orabilis admonished, not even giving him the courtesy of her attention. “We are both well aware of the challenges facing Elesyria. But until we can get this right, until I can understand exactly what we are dealing with, we canna bring her home, aye? So summon yer patience, lad. Lock yer lips and allow us to do our work.”

She spoke to him as she had when he was no more than a boy demanding her attention. When he thought on it, it wouldn’t surprise him if she still considered him as such.

He growled his displeasure, not bothering to form the words. She was right, of course. No matter how powerful Orabilis might really be, not even she could afford to rush into an encounter with Faerie Magic without the armament of knowledge. He’d have to force himself to wait. At least now he could take solace in knowing that she intended to help, a fact she hadn’t shared before this very moment.

“That little twist changes everything,” Orabilis muttered, her forefinger tapping her upper lip thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling. “As I’m sure the Goddess realized when she sent word. Well then. It would appear there’s naught left to be done but to go to a source of power if we’re to follow her.”

“No!” Editha protested, the word expelled on a burst of air. “You ken it’s no’ safe for you to return to Wyddecol. Especially no’ now with the Council embroiled in a full-on grab for control.”

“Do I look the fool to you?” Orabilis asked, her laughter tinkling around the room. “No need to fash yerself over my considering such an unwise move, little one. No, the place I have in mind is in this world, but with an opening to the other. A place where the powers of Wyddecol leak through into the Mortal world.”

“The glen,” Editha whispered. “That’s where yer thinking of going, is it no’? You intend to take yer leave from there.”

“That is the only spot I can see someone using to begin a journey such as we discuss,” Orabilis said with a chuckle, turning her gaze toward Patrick.

He did his best to ignore the shivers prickling up his spine, fear for Syrie urging him on, stoking the fire of his anger yet again. Delays and more delays, it was what these people knew best.

“Why must we waste more time, traveling to yet another place? Yer supposed to be the one with the Magic to bring Syrie home. Why can you no’ just do it here and now?”

“Do it here and now?” Orabilis asked, her voice rising in pitch. “What is it you think I’m to do, lad? Toss some herbs into the fire and pull Elesyria from the rising smoke? You’ve no idea how difficult a task you’ve set for me, nor the price to be paid for accomplishing it. No’ even my powers are strong enough to simply undo what the High Council of Wyddecol has set in motion. I need to touch upon the Magic of Wyddecol itself to have any chance in fighting this battle.”

Why the Fae could never take the simple path baffled him. His father had always claimed they were a race more convoluted in their thinking than even the old gods of Asgard. It all seemed clear enough to him. But if she insisted that she needed to touch upon the power of Wyddecol, so be it. Simple enough.

“Then we go to Wyddecol,” he said. “Go to the source and eliminate the need to travel to this glen of yers.”

Orabilis exchanged a look with Editha and sighed, a sound clearly intended to convey her irritation with having to school him yet again. “There were once many entry points connecting your world with Wyddecol. But, as you’d know if you’d listened to any of yer mother’s stories, most of those doorways were destroyed many ages ago to keep out those who should never return to the Land of the Fae.”

Stories. The Fae did love their stories. But stories were for children and people with nothing else to do. He had no time for stories, not even those Orabilis would tell. Syrie’s very life could depend on his forcing this old woman to move quickly. Orabilis and the Tinkler woman might well be descended from the Fae, but his lineage stretched back to Odin. He would not be denied that which he wanted more than life itself.

“I willna be stopped in my quest to save Elesyria. I’ll rend an opening between the worlds with my own two hands if I have to.”

“You do try my patience, young warrior, but that foolhardy streak may yet serve you well.” Orabilis shook her head as she approached him, close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I said most of the openings had been destroyed. Not all. It is one of those openings that we seek in the Faerie Glen. From there I can access the power we need to enable you to save her, all with no rending on yer part required.”

In that case, there was only one thing left that he needed to know.

“How soon can we go?” he asked, hoping against hope that she didn’t think she was going to leave him behind when she made her way to this special glen of hers with its rare opening to the Faerie home world.

“As soon as you and William can get the wagons ready,” she answered, her gaze unwavering as she stared at him. “Editha and I will gather a few things to take along and meet you outside.”

“Finally,” he muttered, turning his back and heading out of the little cabin and into the fresh air to find William.

At last he felt as if rescuing Syrie might actually be within his reach.