C.E. Murphy - Truthseeker

Lara’s ears turned scarlet and she bit back a heated denial of the term Ioan had used for Aerin. He’d spoken only truth, and she knew it. Knew, too, that Aerin had been Dafydd’s lover, but she hadn’t allowed herself to put it into words, and was surprised how much they stung when voiced.

It wasn’t a sting she could allow herself to pursue right now. Not with the truth of Ioan’s words rushing over her. “Then, take me with you.”

Ioan made a sound outside of words, a breath of regret and helpless humor. “I can’t. The Barrow-lands will tolerate one passenger when the worldwalking spell is used, but I cannot force it to more. Much as I need a truthseeker, Dafydd is my brother, and dying.”

“I can’t just let you take him!” Fingernails on chalkboards, screeching untruth in her protest. She could; she would have to. Lara knelt and curled Dafydd’s hand in her own, squeezing like she could waken him by force of will. “How can I trust you?”

“You’re a truthseeker,” Ioan whispered. “Ask your questions, but do it quickly. He has very little time.”

Dafydd’s hands were warm in hers. That seemed wrong, when he was the one lying so close to death. Lara stared at him dry-eyed and, dry-voiced, said, “Did you, Ioan ap Caerwyn, called ap Annwn, by any action or inaction of your own, force Dafydd ap Caerwyn’s hand to murder Merrick ap Annwn?”

Soft, ferocious: “I did not.”

Lara nodded once, a stiff ungainly motion. “Do you mean Dafydd ap Caerwyn any harm?”

That same sound again, the unhappy breath of laughter. “He’s my brother, Truthseeker. I mean him no harm.”

Lara nodded again, still jerky, then forced her gaze from Dafydd to his brother. He was beautiful, more beautiful than Dafydd, a perfect creature cut from amber and garbed in night. She wanted to hate him, and could find nothing other than fear to knot her heart: fear for Dafydd, and fear that her gift might somehow fail her and she might be sending him to his doom. “Do you know a way for me to get back to the Barrow-lands?”

A spasm crossed Ioan’s sharp-etched features. “Find the one who’s done all of this to us. He must be in your world, Truthseeker. With the world walls closed, there’s no other way he could have controlled the nightwings. He’s here somewhere, and must himself be able to work the worldwalking spell. Find him, and maybe you can return.”

Lara pressed her lips together, nodded a third time, and climbed to her feet. Her stomach was a solid mass, tight and heavy inside her, and her own expression felt like a stranger’s, a mask of ill-concealed rage and frustration. She stepped back, giving Ioan the space he needed to kneel and lift Dafydd’s body. When he’d straightened again she said, “Ioan.”

“Truthseeker?”

Stranger’s face, stranger’s words; Lara had never said anything like what she said now. “If anything happens to him, Ioan, I will kill you.”

Ioan ap Annwn afforded her the scantest bow, all he could manage with Dafydd’s weight in his arms, and said, very softly, “I believe you.”

Sunlight wrapped them, and they were gone.

Power erupted from the staff again as the walls between the worlds closed. Lara staggered, planting the weapon against the ground for support, and felt a shudder beneath her feet. Kelly bellowed in dismay as the earth lurched. “Pick it up, pick it up!”

“Pick what—?” Lara heard her own voice distantly as she took a few hopeless steps forward, dragging the staff with her. Overwhelming weariness drained all other emotion away. There was no lingering doorway, no break in space that might permit her to follow the two elfin princes. Visions shattered behind her eyes with each beat of her heart, pictures of the fanciful world she imagined every time she thought of Dafydd ap Caerwyn. A life with a man who grasped, instantly, what she was; a world beyond her own to explore. Now the color drained from those dreams, leaving them remote and cold.

“The staff, the goddamned staff , Lara!” Kelly slammed against Lara’s side, bringing her back to herself enough to stare uncomprehendingly first at her friend, then at the ivory rod she herself held. It took long seconds to understand Kelly’s alarm.

Worldbreaker . And it didn’t seem to care what world it broke: Lara’s own was as good as any other. She yanked it up, breaking its connection with the earth, but the ground continued to rumble threateningly. “This is New England!” Kelly wailed. “We don’t have earthquakes here!”

“It’s not an earthquake.” Lara glanced upward, half expecting the sky to boil with clouds and lightning. It didn’t, but a foreboding sense of not yet came over her, and she knotted her hands around the staff, holding it parallel to the earth. “You’re done for now,” she whispered to it, and exerted effort to put truth into the words. “This is my world. I don’t care how much power I might wield through you. I won’t let you destroy my home.”

A length of ivory couldn’t, in any logical way, be sentient or opinionated, but a sense of resentment built up from the staff regardless. Lara tightened her hands around it, aware that such fragile-looking bone should shatter beneath her grip, but never dreaming it might actually do so. “You waited for me for centuries. I’ve found you now, and I’m your master. A mortal master, at that. Oisín carried you a long time. You should know by now mortal masters can’t be tempted the way Seelie can.” The truth came from within her, absolute with conviction, though where it stemmed from, Lara had no idea. Oisín might know, if she ever had the chance to ask him.

Sullenness flared, but the building power retreated. With it, so did the tremors, and Lara stood breathing heavily and wondering at her own strength of will.

“I oughta arrest you both.” The trooper sounded uncertain, but his voice took Lara’s attention from the staff. She’d forgotten about him and everything he represented, caught up in Dafydd’s weakness and the staff’s living hunger to wreak havoc. There were innumerable other things to think about, and she latched on to the first one that came to mind.

“Detective Washington. Is he okay?” Speaking propelled her into action. There were injured people, perhaps dying people, who needed attention, and the trooper’s indecision suggested he wasn’t likely to follow through on his threat.

“Last thing anybody mentioned he was stable,” he said after a moment. “Serious condition but stable.”

“Thank God for that.” Lara crouched by the ranger, whose eyes were wide open. She breathed through her teeth, fingers pinched against the asphalt, but she was alive. That was two, Lara thought. Washington and this woman, both survivors. It was more than she’d hoped for.

For a moment the staff felt warm in her hand again, as if offering potential power. Healing power, perhaps: that was what Lara had wanted it for, after all. The potential caught her off guard, and a sensation of triumph spilled from the staff. Lara jerked to her feet, narrowly avoiding casting the staff away in revulsion. No inanimate object should offer impulses like it did. Even if she knew how to control its power properly, the idea of doing its bidding seemed dangerous. There were humans who could affect healing much less esoterically than the staff’s unknown magics might, and with only predictable side effects. “Officer, can you call for more paramedics?”

“A lot more,” Kelly said unhappily from near the ambulances. “Two of these guys are dead.”

“We saw it.” A new voice spoke as the back of one of the ambulances opened. A paramedic climbed out, followed by a white-faced woman clutching her arm. She nodded to the station wagon the ranger had fallen by. “That’s our car. We saw … those things … that you fought. We were afraid to get out.”