United Kingdom. Other than that, Merle was not willing to share much more.”
“Then he didn’t die in a terror attack in Ireland?”
“Ireland, maybe. A terror attack, like the IRA?” Richard scowled. “No. Whoever told you that is either ignorant or lying. Whatever murdered your father had to possess a potent magic to do it. Overcoming the power of a Heliwr is not easy.”
“What magic did he have, as Heliwr?”
“You mean what magic do I have, eh?”
“I guess.”
“That depends on ability,” Richard said. “Remember what I did to Llassar?”
“Yes, the grass holding him firm. He called you a wizard.”
“A weak wizard, at best.”
“So you are a wizard?”
Richard smiled with no warmth. “You are as well now.”
“What do you mea—”
“In due time. In due time,” Richard repeated. “Tomorrow maybe.”
Settling back into his own blankets, Bran tried to picture his father with the staff, when he saw dozens of gimlet eyes glittering from the darkness, surrounding the campsite at the edge of the firelight. Bran couldn’t make out anything more than that.
“Richard,” Bran whispered.
The knight followed his eyes. “They have been there for some time.”
“What are they?”
“Llithiwch,” Deirdre answered, looking at the shadowy wraiths from her own bedroll. “Skittish little creatures, rarely seen. They are Unseelie, but do not hurt anyone or anything. My people consider them a blessing of sorts; if they are here, no other Unseelie are nearby.”
“Are they what follow us?” Bran asked.
“Could be,” Richard said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Spies?”
“No, not at all,” Deirdre said. “Odd so many are gathered here though.”
“Drawn by the power of Arondight,” Richard observed. He hunkered back down into his bedroll. “Sleep. They can’t hurt us. We are going to have a long day tomorrow.”
Bran relaxed, as Deirdre followed Richard’s example. Soon the soft snores of the knight and the even rise and fall of Deirdre’s chest left Bran with the first watch. The luminous eyes from the darkness still watched. Bran kept the fire going, distrustful of the creatures, his thoughts straying to home as he stared into the fire. Seattle seemed so far away. Merle had put Bran between a rock and a hard place, having maneuvered him to the exact spot he wanted. Bran knew one thing—Merle had a lot to answer for, not only for his machinations but also the hundreds of questions Bran had concerning his father, his new role, and what it all meant for his future.
When Bran looked up from the fire, the Llithiwch were gone.
As he was about to settle back and relax, a new set of eyes appeared in the night, flaming crimson with utter hatred and growing larger by the moment.
“Bodach!” Bran screamed, leaping up and calling Arondight.
Richard gained his feet as though he hadn’t been asleep, the Dark Thorn filling his hand in white flame just as the bodach jumped.
With a shriek, the Unseelie beast bulled over the Heliwr.
Richard rolled with the assault, letting the creature blow mostly over him and then blasted it with white magic. The creature reeled away, the flames licking at its shadowy form as it fought to break through. Richard did not let up. Regaining his feet in that afforded moment, he kept his staff between them. The shadow tore at him even as the knight backed away. Richard parried every swipe, keeping the Dark Thorn held before him, his eyes burning with concentration.
“Bran!” Richard roared, falling to the ground.
As it had in Caer Glain, the fey creature fought to pin Richard to kill him, going after its most powerful adversary.
As the bodach leapt ferociously upon the knight, Bran charged with Arondight.
Deirdre beat him to it.
Hurdling the fire, Deirdre had her sword in hand, charging the fey. Her red hair manic, she sliced at the occupied bodach with wild abandon, roaring at the top of her lungs—to little effect. Annoyed by the woman, the bodach lashed out finally with one massive clawed paw, connecting with Deirdre.
She landed on the fire, the embers setting her clothes ablaze.
When Deirdre rolled away, on fire, something snapped inside Bran. In slow motion, he witnessed another attempt on their lives and his own weak inaction. Anger turned to righteousness; passion crystallized into deed. The screams of the Rhedewyr faded. The roars of the bodach vanished. All that remained was his desire to see Deirdre safe and the bodach destroyed before it could kill another and the blame be put squarely on him.
Arondight grew incandescent, flaming wild magic.
Before he could reach the bodach though, reports echoed in the night all around them, explosions in