as Aife rode up. A shimmer coalesced around her, rippling like waves in crystal water. When it cleared the centaur had vanished. Instead Aife stood upon naked human legs while behind the white horse she had been a part had regained its head, pawing the earth and shaking its mane.
Aife knelt and lifted Richard free, closing her eyes.
The same flickering of light occurred again, and once more woman and horse were joined, the knight cradled to her chest.
“Horse the boy now,” Aife commanded. “We must cross the Tywi River with all possible speed.”
“What of Morrigan?” Kegan asked.
“She is able, Horsemaster,” Aife retorted before galloping northward.
“Know how to ride?” Kegan asked Bran.
“No,” Bran stammered.
“Nothing like learning on the fly, says I.”
“I’ll take him,” a feminine voice said.
Bran turned to behold the redhead he had seen earlier breaking from the trees of Dryvyd Wood. She moved with grace, each step quick and certain, her loose-fitting dark green clothing splattered with blackish blood like the sword she held. The woman barely gave him a glance, her eyes round and green as she passed to meet a chocolate mare that whinnied at her approach.
“Willowyn,” she greeted.
The fairy darted from the forest then to hover among them all. “Ashrot, Deirdre! Outworlder or no outworlder. Let’s go, let’s go!”
“Ride hard, Lady of Mochdrev Reach,” Kegan said as she mounted.
“Like the wind,” Deirdre said.
Kegan made a makeshift stirrup with his linked hands. “Up you go, lad.”
“I don’t—”
“Now!”
Bran stepped into it and Kegan boosted him up with more strength Bran thought the Horsemaster could possess. He settled in behind the woman, still unsure. The fairy followed, giving Bran what he thought to be a dirty look before flying ahead.
“You had better not let go,” Kegan said with a wink. He turned to the redhead. “Aife is already making for the river and the city. We will follow anon.”
“Ready?” Deirdre questioned over her shoulder.
Bran gripped her hips loosely. “Where are you taking me?”
“Away.”
Before Bran could ask more, the quivering muscles beneath him leapt into motion, hooves pounding the soft ground. Bran threw his arms around the rider’s waist from sheer fear.
As they entered the plain’s rolling expanse, a horn blew behind them, its blast deep and penetrating.
The sound of the fight faded quickly.
Willowyn carried her two riders northward, her gait powerful and even. The fairy was nowhere to be seen. Bran’s extremities came back to life in painful alarm as he held tight. Even as the realization of his freedom stole over him, he wondered if he had merely left one ill only to embrace another.
Willowyn galloped on.
And the Carn Cavall loomed, a hazy smear of promise on the horizon.
Cormac stared hard at Finn Arne, nearly at a loss for words. The captain gazed back across the desk like a statue, his report finished.
The events in Seattle had not gone as Cormac had hoped. Not at all. The Ardall boy had escaped, aided by McAllister and the wizard, able to flee into the portal with help from that monstrous halfbreed that lived along the pier. The company of Swiss Guard Finn had taken with him lay broken, several of them severely burned, others sustaining broken ribs, legs, or arms. It had taken a great deal of persuasion to set them free from authorities. Finn bore no wounds, the Shield of Arthur bequeathed by the Vigilo protecting him from harm.
Cormac wanted to throttle Finn Arne, shield or no shield.
The Cardinal Vicar fought to maintain his composure. But he saw what failure had done to the captain. It infuriated Finn Arne that McAllister had bested him.
Cormac would use that vengeance to gain advantage.
Donato Javier Ramirez, the Cardinal Seer, sat in a ridged high-backed wood chair, his presence almost invisible. Cormac needed his long-time friend in the room more than ever.
“I am more than disappointed, Captain,” Cormac said finally.
“Understandably, Your Eminence.”
Cormac chose his words carefully. “Do you wish to make atonement for your failure?”
“More than anything.”
Long moments passed. “I will call on you this evening. Leave us.”
Finn Arne vanished from the room, leaving the two Cardinals in privacy. Alone with his mentor, Cormac dropped his guard and let the stress he felt out.
“My old friend, this is intolerable!”
“Patience,” the Cardinal Seer said. “Remember the Lord’s will.”
Cormac nodded absentmindedly, frowning into space.
“Cormac Pell O’Connor,” Donato prodded. The Cardinal Vicar looked up. “Got yer attention, I see. Yeh have always been an academic and political student. I’ve seen ambition drive yeh to yer current position. But let me remind yeh of one thing, the