Heir to Sevenwaters (54 page)

I could not look at Cathal. “That’s not quite what I promised,” I said through chattering teeth. “What I said was—”

“The exact wording is immaterial,” said Mac Dara coolly. “At the very least, you owe me one night for the trouble you’ve caused me. Seize her.”

Two of his entourage rode forward and dismounted, but before they could step any closer Cathal had put me behind him. “Lay a hand on Clodagh and I’ll kill you,” he said coolly. “I’ll fight you while there’s breath in my body. Of course, if my father is so disgusted with me that he wants me dead, I suppose that might suit him quite well. On the other hand, if you happen to make an end of me it’s possible he may get quite angry. He doesn’t have his replacement yet.”

Mac Dara raised his black-gloved hand. There was something in the gesture that told me he was not directing his warriors to apprehend me or to attack Cathal, but was preparing to cast a spell. I slipped my hand into my pouch and took out the egg-shaped stone. “Now,” I murmured, and threw it to the ground in front of me.

Instantly a blinding mist arose, a thick white blanket blotting out trees and rocks and horses, men and women and creatures. I could not see a hand span before my own face. I stood paralyzed, all sense of direction gone.

“This way!” It was Cathal’s voice, and now Cathal’s hand grasped mine and the two of us were running again, running blind through the vapor as the sound of hooves came after us.
Let the portal be near
, I prayed.
Let us find it soon . . .

We ran until my legs would barely carry me; until my head was dizzy and my eyes were blurred. Still the mist clung. We could have been anywhere. My chest hurt and my legs ached. The terrain changed again, and now I could see skeletal forms of willow and elder looming through the mist. I could feel the ground underfoot becoming mossy and damp. Somewhere nearby there was a sound of moving water. Cathal’s grip on my hand was tight enough to hurt. He was pulling me after him so fast I could barely stay on my feet. Behind us in the obscurity someone was shouting.

I was hauled bodily up a rise, over rocks slick with moisture. The eldritch vapor had begun to dissipate; Ciarán’s charm was losing its potency.

“Got to—catch my breath,” I gasped. “Fiacha—where’s Fiacha?”

“I can’t imagine.” Cathal sounded odd. Something was wrong. Through the last shreds of mist I looked up at him and my heart stopped. The man who had been leading me, the man whose hand I had been gripping as if my life depended on it, was not Cathal at all. It was his father.

CHAPTER 16

I
clawed and kicked, trying to wrench away, but he was too strong. He simply took me by the shoulders and held me at arm’s length, his brows raised, his lips twisted as if he found my desperation mildly amusing. There was only one thing I could do. I sucked air into my lungs and screamed, “Cathal! I’m here!”

There was no reply. Now that the mist was gone, the boles of the trees shone like silver ghosts in the light of a low, invisible moon. Beyond them lay a broad, murmuring darkness; surely the same river we had crossed on that rickety raft when first we entered Mac Dara’s realm. On the far bank stood an ancient, half-dead willow, whose weathered branches reached out across the water as if beckoning me home. I saw no raft, no rope. There was something, all the same; a pale line spanning the water, beneath the surface.

“There’s no point in calling my son,” Mac Dara said, his fingers tightening on my shoulders. “He’s not much of a man, Clodagh. First he shows a complete lack of enthusiasm for your tempting offer. Then he passes you straight into my hands. That was the most basic of tricks. He should have thought of it himself, knowing how alike the two of us are.”

“Alike?” My whole body was stiff with disgust. “You are no more like him than a maggot-ridden corpse is like a healthy, living creature. You disgust me. Let me go!”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He drew me close, wrapping both arms around me and pressing my body against his. “Why don’t we make that son now? It’s peaceful here. You’ll be assured of the privacy that’s so important to you. And we’ve nothing else to do until morning.”

“You have no right!” My mind edged closer to complete panic. There was no chance at all of breaking free, and I had used the only tool I had; used it up too soon, and for nothing. “The agreement was that I would let you do this tomorrow night
if Cathal was incapable.
He wasn’t incapable, my lord.” Gods, his hand was roaming all over me, making my flesh crawl. I would not let him do this.

“I can play those games, too,” Mac Dara said. “Games of truth and lies. I’ll outplay you every time. Look me in the eye and tell me my son made love to you tonight.” He moved me away from him, both hands gripping me by the shoulders again.

“That would be a lie,” I said, and saw his complacent smile. “But he could have. He was capable. He chose not to. That means I don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Mac Dara calmly. “You’re fresh, delectable, untouched. What man would turn down the opportunity of being first to sample you? If he didn’t do it, it was because he couldn’t do it.” He drew me closer once more, and I put both hands against his chest in a futile attempt to fend him off. “You’re afraid of me,” he said, sounding surprised. “No need for that. I know how to please a woman, even an inexperienced one.” He moved his hands to cover mine and his fingers touched the green glass ring. In that instant, his whole body became still. “What’s this?” he said, and there was something in his tone that made my hair stand on end.

“Nothing,” I whispered. A moment later he was wrenching the ring from my finger. He held the little talisman in his long, pale hand. Then he tossed it far away, somewhere out into the darkness among the trees, and it was gone. If I had thought myself afraid before, it was nothing beside the chill that entered my blood now.

“So,” said Mac Dara. “That was why an insignificant human woman stood up to me for so long. That was what gave you the courage to come back and seek out my son. Foolish girl. I don’t know where you picked that trinket up, but it’s led you into a situation far beyond your capabilities. And now you’ve put exactly the weapon I need right into my hand. We’ll skip the dalliance and send you home, I think. This way. I know how much you like the water.”

Don’t panic, don’t panic,
babbled a voice inside my head.
The ring was your protection, yes. That doesn’t mean you should turn to a jelly now it’s gone. Cathal needs you. Breathe. Use your wits.
But against that last spark of reason was the iron-strong grip on my arm, the purposeful tread of my captor’s feet as he dragged me to the riverbank, the terror his last words had awakened in me. No screams now. I could not summon so much as a terrified squeak.

“We’re here,” said the Lord of the Oak, halting with me held before him, both of us facing the river. “See, I’m giving you a chance to get back home safe and sound. Let nobody say the Fair Folk are ungenerous. Just walk across the bridge and you’ll be there.”

The bridge was a single tree trunk, the remains of a forest giant. It spanned the breadth of the flow and lay a handspan under the swift-moving water. In the deceptive light, I would be lucky to advance three steps onto it before I slipped and went under. To cross would be a challenge even to a man with superb physical skills, Johnny for instance.

“Off you go, then,” Mac Dara said, releasing my arms and giving me a little push. “And don’t try to run away; I might be forced to do something you wouldn’t like.”

“I can’t—” I began, and staggered as the little push became a stronger one, and I was forced down the bank and out onto the submerged bridge. “Please,” I begged, stretching out both arms to keep my balance. The water tugged at my skirt; there had been no time to tuck it up before I was forced onto the log. The wood was slippery from long immersion. My boots could not get safe purchase on it. My heart was knocking about in my chest. “Please . . .” I stood there, wobbling, an arm’s length out from the bank.

Mac Dara raised his hand and pointed it in my direction. I did not hear him speak the words of a charm, but fire flared suddenly between me and the safety of the riverbank, scorching, deadly, and I shrank away from it, moving further out along the bridge. My knees buckled; I forced them to hold. Now I couldn’t even see the log bridge under the dark water. One more step and I’d be gone, swept away to oblivion. All for want of a handhold, or a shorter skirt, or a little more courage.
Cathal
, said a tiny voice inside me.
I love you. I’m sorry.

Something hurtled toward me, arrow swift and dark as midnight. I ducked, screwing up my eyes in anticipation of attack. A sudden weight on my shoulder; claws digging in. As I straightened, a dangerous beak came around at eye level, holding a little item that glinted green in the moonlight. The ring. Fiacha had brought me the ring. And as I took it and slipped it on my finger, a familiar, beloved voice from further along the bank said, “Clodagh. Catch.”

He was here. Cathal was here. For one blissful moment I felt relief, then I saw Mac Dara’s hand outstretched toward me, and the flame bursting forth anew from his fingers. Cathal’s cloak passed through the fire on its way to me. My boots slid wildly on the log as I snatched at it. The crow winged up out of harm’s way, and somehow I got the garment around my shoulders, the hood over my head.
You’ve got the ring. Cathal’s got his necklace. We’re at the portal. Don’t you dare lose your balance.

“Oh, take off the hood.” Mac Dara’s voice, a lazy drawl now. “Let’s see that flaming hair go up.” Fire on either side of me, swirling, scorching. I shrank back inside the cloak, heart thudding, and the eldritch flames sizzled into the river. “Fool!” spat Mac Dara, the mocking tone quite gone. He was not addressing me. “You would throw away the riches I lay before you for
her
? She’s nothing. No great beauty even by human standards, and a meddler besides. Persist in this and I’ll be obliged to show you just how disposable your little friend is.”

“Clodagh,” Cathal said. He was standing not far along the bank, looking perfectly calm. He had his eyes fixed on his father and did not spare me a glance. “Trust me.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Mac Dara. “Just as she trusted you to hold onto her the last time she fell into deep water. The little tricks you’ve picked up since you came here are insignificant, Cathal. Against my magic they are as candle flames to a great conflagration. I had hoped my son might be made in my mold; lover, warrior, leader without peer. How long must I wait to see that promise fulfilled?”

“You will wait forever.” Cathal stood relaxed and still, his hands loose by his sides, his gaze locked with his father’s. “My future lies in the human world. It lies with Clodagh. I want nothing of what you offer. I want neither riches nor power, and I have no interest at all in the craft of magic.”

“No?” Mac Dara’s brows went up. “I find that hard to believe. Perhaps you are frustrated that your progress is so slow, but you can learn, Cathal. You just deflected those flames, didn’t you?” Was I wrong, or had a slight tinge of uncertainty entered his voice? “As for riches and power, there is no man in the world who does not desire those.”

The current pulled like a wild horse. Surely the water was deeper, almost up to my knees now, though I had advanced no further along the submerged bridge. My back hurt. My legs hurt. My head felt dizzy.
You’ve got the ring, you’ve got the ring,
I chanted silently to myself.
Be brave. Be strong.
My body was seized by convulsive shivers—cold or fear, perhaps both. Despite this, I became aware of activity above me. In the trees on either bank and in the air over the bridge there was a continuous, rustling movement, like birds’ wings or the passing of a breeze through leaves. It seemed imperative not to look up. I recognized purpose in Cathal’s stance, intent in the way he was holding his father’s gaze. I held as still as I could, willing my legs to support me just a little longer.

A surge smacked into me. Not only was the river rising, it was changing. Its smooth flow had become turbulent, its surface bouncing and splashing and spraying as if stirred by a mischievous hand. Not content with burning me alive, Mac Dara was going to drown me at the same time. The water rose to my hips, to my waist, and I could stand against it no longer. As I toppled, gasping in terror, lines dropped down on either side of me, strong, green ropes spanning the river at waist height. I grabbed first one, then the other, scrabbling to get my feet secure on the log bridge. No time to question. I clung, sucking in a shuddering breath, and felt solid wood beneath my boots.
He can’t kill me if I’ve got the ring
, I reminded myself as trees and water and riverbank swam around me in a haze. Waves were breaking on either shore with sounds like blows; the river was as choppy as if it were coursing over jagged rocks. Spray danced around me as it grew deeper still, its embrace chilly and urgent. I shut my eyes, clutched the ropes and prayed.

Cathal’s voice rang out, clear and cool. “This is over, Father.” As I opened my eyes, I saw him raise his hand and gesture toward the water. It was a graceful, fluid movement, something akin to the dance of fronds in the current.