Part 47 (1/2)

”Can I save him?”

”Yes.”

The surge of relief left him weak. ”How?”

The Trickster merely smiled.

”Please.”

With infinite care, Fellgair plucked a strand of white between two lethal claws. Darak's heart gave an odd little flutter. As Fellgair lifted the thread, his heart missed a beat.

”What do you want?”

Under Fellgair's claws, the thread stretched into a tiny white peak. Darak reeled, dimly aware of smooth stone sliding past his fingertips, of the jolt of pain as his knees. .h.i.t the stone flags, of the duller pain that blossomed in his chest and swelled until he felt his heart must burst. He gasped for breath. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, obliterating the web, obliterating everything except those two claws grasping the peak of the taut white thread. If Fellgair broke it, he would die.

And then he realized that was the bargain Fellgair offered: his life in exchange for his son's.

Flames erupted at the edge of his vision, brilliant bursts of red and gold. Or perhaps those were Fellgair's threads. Or Griane's hair, the way it used to look before the white had stolen in. The way it had looked that morning in the grove, fiery spikes framing her white face.

Forgive me, girl.

His vision blurred. Something warm and wet ran down his cheek. The world tilted. He had fallen like this when Fellgair first bespelled him, as slow and steady as if he were sinking into the waters of the lake.

Griane.

Callum. My sweet boy.

Faelia. My fierce wolf pup.

Wolf. Am I dooming you, too?

Keirith . . .

Never to see them again. Never to touch them. Never to say farewell.

Summoning his strength, he choked out, ”Take me.”

The pain in his chest eased, surprising him. Perhaps Fellgair meant to give him a quick death. He sucked in great gulps of air, helplessly staring up into the golden eyes that would be the last thing he would see. He closed his eyes, trying to conjure Griane's face. For just a moment, he captured it-the smattering of freckles, the pointed chin, the frown she kept in place to hide her true emotions. And with it came the awareness that she was with him.

He opened himself to her presence, his spirit reaching out for hers. Only then did he realize the truth: it was not Griane's spirit but Fellgair's. Inside of him. Invading him. Just as Morgath had invaded him all those years ago.

His eyes flew open and met Fellgair's calm gaze. He flailed uselessly at the restraining arms, as if by thrusting them away he could somehow rid himself of the G.o.d's spirit.

<hush.> Fellgair's voice, the scolding tone as familiar as if he had spoken aloud. He could feel his presence, hovering at the edge of his consciousness.

Why?

<your words,=”” darak.=”” your=”” bargain.=””> He heard mocking laughter, but the Trickster's face was grave. It was Morgath's laughter, echoing in his memory.

Panic constricted his chest. A giant fist squeezed his heart. His vision narrowed to those two golden eyes above him. His body convulsed as he fought for air. But there was no air.

<darak. stop.=””> Stop breathing? Stop fighting?

<stop.> Something pressed against his chest, but instead of crus.h.i.+ng him, his breathing eased. Relief made him sag in Fellgair's arms. So strong, those arms. On that final journey to the grove, he had yearned for the Forest-Lord to cradle him like this, but there had only been that one fleeting touch, a warm paw cupping the back of his neck the way his mam used to. Now, instead of Hernan's leaves ticking his cheek, there was Fellgair's fur. And the scent of honeysuckle filling his nostrils. And music . . . why did he hear music? And a heartbeat. He'd never imagined that G.o.ds possessed hearts, but surely that was Fellgair's.

His heart slowed its frantic pattering to match that steady beat. As if he were back on the tree in Chaos again, feeling that other heartbeat keeping vigil with him, leading him away from Morgath, guiding him through the dream-forest and deep into the cavern where Tinnean and the Oak dwelled within the World Tree.

The music.

<yes.> His heartbeat raced again as the word sounded inside of him. What new trick was Fellgair trying by conjuring up the song of the World Tree?

Impatience lanced through him, but before he could panic, Fellgair had withdrawn to the periphery of his consciousness again.

What game is this?

<he was=”” was=”” the=”” reason=”” you=”” made=”” the=”” bargain.=””> the reason you made the bargain.> I know, but . . .

It was so hard to think clearly, to move past the terror of Fellgair's presence inside of him, even if he made no attempt to penetrate deeper.

<nor will=”” i.=”” it=”” is=”” for=”” you=”” to=”” let=”” me=”” in.=””> Denial made his body spasm helplessly.

<then keirith=”” will=”” die.=””> He struggled to rise, but Fellgair held him fast.

I offered my life.

<no, darak.=”” you=”” said,=”” ”take=”” me.”=””> And Fellgair had. Because he had been foolish enough-and frightened enough-to speak without clearly stating the terms of the bargain.

I meant my life. You know that's what I meant.

<but i=”” don't=”” want=”” your=”” life.=”” i=”” want=”” your=”” spirit.=””> What?

<open your=”” spirit.=””> But you're already inside of me.

<open your=”” spirit,=”” or=”” keirith=”” will=”” die.=””> Please! You cannot kill my boy!

<open your=”” spirit-=””> Why are you doing this?

<because it's=”” a=”” greater=”” sacrifice=”” than=”” your=”” life.=””> So simple, really. And so true. Dying would be far easier than opening his spirit to Fellgair-to anyone. But only by making that sacrifice could he save Keirith. Of course, the Trickster knew that. He knew everything. He would never have accepted the lesser price. His hasty offer had just made it easier.

The very thought of opening himself to Fellgair made his spirit shrink, closing like a clenched fist. Immediately, he felt Fellgair drifting away.

Wait.

<you are=”” unwilling.=””> Nay. I'm-please!

His mind refused to acknowledge the truth, but the Trickster could sense his fear as easily as he could feel the terrified racing of his heart under his hand and the harsh rasp of his breath ruffling the fur of his chest.