“Reaver is the Time Keeper of the mortal realm, and so in the mortal realm he must live. I am the Guardian of the key to the mortal realm. The doorway opens from O Anel, and so it is here that I must reside,” Moira said. “Balance must be maintained.”
“So, since Brakae is the Time Keeper in O Anel, she has to stay here all the time? She can’t ever leave?”
“It is different for Keepers. When she was chosen,” Moira said, “she became one with this realm. She has been bound to the essence of time.”
I snorted. “You realize that makes absolutely no sense, right?”
“It is not our place to question Fate-or the gods. We are meant only to serve.”
“Serve,” I said. “What an appropriate word. Because it seems to me I’ve just become a slave.”
Moira sighed heavily and shook her head. “Think of it this way, Darian. There is a plank resting on a stone. At one end is the mortal realm; at the other, O Anel. If Brakae stands with Reaver at the same end of the plank, it will tip to the ground. But if they each stand at one end, the plank will balance straight on the stone. The natural order requires balance in all things.”
“I dreamt about her, you know. Brakae. A couple of times.”
“Keepers aren’t without their own power,” Moira responded. “She can’t leave O Anel, but she has ways to reach out to you if she needs you.”
Creepy. But not an entirely ineffective way to communicate with your counterpart when she lived, oh, an entire universe away. She’d been trying to warn me about Faolán all along, and even my subconscious had been too stubborn to listen. “I suppose she can send messengers too? Say, for instance, a falcon?” That annoying little bird had delivered the key to me and had gotten my attention when Brakae wanted me to use the pendulum. Apparently she had more than a few tricks up her sleeve.
“Certain animals do have the ability to travel between the realms.”
“How the hell did you figure all this out?” Because last time I checked, I hadn’t been invited to any Guardian orientation seminars. “How did you know the rules? Where to live, what to do? I mean, sorry, but it flat pisses me off that no one prepared me for any of this.” Good God, I was starting to sound like a broken record.
“Not that it matters now,” Moira said, “but we knew the first time we met you at the PNT Summit. Reaver was quite interested, and had the day gone more smoothly, we would have approached you at the conclusion of the day’s proceedings.”
By “more smoothly,” she meant if Delilah’s supposed kidnappers hadn’t dropped her off gift-wrapped and beaten to a pulp. The whole of the Summit’s participants had fled the facility in the midst of the drama. If I’d only known it was a setup and that I’d end up the kidnapped one, the whole thing would have gone down completely differently. “Reaver was interested?” I said. That was an understatement. He’d used magical influence to try to push me to my knees-and right at his feet-but he didn’t realize I don’t bow to anyone.
“No. I suppose you don’t.” Moira smiled, once again listening in on my thoughts. “But it wasn’t a show of strength on his part like you think.”
I stopped her, closed my eyes, and felt Brakae’s presence shift to the west and change course. “Then what was it?”
“He was testing your strength.”
“Did I pass?”
“That,” Moira said as she retrieved the bow slung across her shoulder, “has yet to be seen.”
Chapter 27
Moira put a finger to her lips and tuned out everything around her as she closed her eyes and listened. I kept my mouth shut for a change, deciding I was far and above the wingman in this mission. The hairs on my arms and at the nape of my neck prickled, danger plucking at my senses. With silent fluidity, Moira slid an arrow from the quiver at her back and nocked the bow, drawing the string back taut, ready to shoot in the blink of an eye.
What is it? Hey, she’d heard my thoughts before; it was worth a shot.
She opened one shrewd eye and then the other. Letting the bow string slacken, she held up two fingers, pointed to a stand of trees to our left, and motioned for me to flank the grouping at the side opposite her. I drew the long dagger-or maybe it was more of a short sword, depending on your perspective-making sure it would be ready when I needed it, and took off at a trot, careful not to stir even a blade of grass as I moved into position.
I shook off the pull of Brakae’s energy and turned my attention instead on the dense cover of trees. Crouching low, I continued to jog, mindful of Moira’s position as I went. As stealthy as my shadow-self, I stayed true to my assassin’s training, relying on the element of surprise to give me the upper hand. But when I got close enough to look my enemy in the eye, I felt my knees give a little under the weight of their combined energy. The six bodies waiting in the distance paced as if antsy and ready for a brawl. Wide mouths yawned, strong and lithe arms stretched toward the sky, and feet stomped at the earth. I held my body rigid, refusing to allow the tremors that threatened to rip my composure to shreds. One enemy, I could handle. Hell, two or three-piece of cake. Gargoyles, Lyhtans, crazy-ass Sylphs, bring ’em on. But what the hell was I looking at right now? And how had Faolán imprinted them with the signature of his power?
Sea Nymphs. Moira’s voice echoed in my mind. Violent and very dangerous.
I steeled myself against the fear eating me alive and against the doubts about my purpose and my strength. Teeth clenched to the point of grinding, I moved forward. Gut-check time. Now or never, do or die-all of that inspirational bullshit. Kill my enemies or die trying. But just as I dug my boots into the soft turf, prepared to throw myself into the action, I heard Moira’s voice in my mind as clear as if she were speaking right in my ear. Not yet. Hold your position. If we startle them, they’ll be harder to kill.
Harder than what?
The Nymphs moved with a lazy fluidity that reminded me of water lapping against the shore. Their skin shimmered in the light passing between the tree branches as if their bodies were peppered with droplets of diamonds. Long green hair swayed with every step like seaweed tossed in the surf, and their eyes-gorgeous and swirling with as many shades of blue as made up every body of water in existence. One snapped its powerful jaws, revealing triangular teeth, razor sharp and sharklike. Observation: Stay away from the mouth. Despite their purposeful strides, the Nymphs looked empty, their expressions hollow and detached. Tall, sure. Strong, you betcha. Those teeth, again-stay away from them… But all in all they didn’t look like they’d be too hard to take down.
Don’t get too excited, Moira’s thoughts warned. Old, powerful magic. Remember? Easier to kill, perhaps. Easier to fight, definitely not. These creatures are under Faolán’s influence. Do not underestimate his ability or theirs.
I’d been as good as Faolán’s marionette, strings and all. Who knows what I’d done in those moments when the world went dark and my memory lapsed? With no more exertion than a thought, he’d utterly controlled me. And now, it appeared he had a small troop of zombies at his disposal. I hoped Moira was reading me loud and clear, because we were without a doubt royally fucked.
Not yet.
When things calmed down, this whole telepathy thing was really going to rub me the wrong way.
The silence that followed in my brain sent a zinging blast of adrenaline through my body. God, I needed Tyler right now-needed him like I needed the air filling my lungs. If I’d only opened up to him, I wouldn’t be standing here, waiting to go to the slaughter while time sped by at an incalculable rate at home. Why did I always have to shoulder everything on my own?