“I would,” she said with a wan smile, “but it is my duty to hear the warnings and the signs.”
“And you have heard more?” he asked.
Guiding her to sit on a log, he found the skin of ale and held it out to her. She drank little and ate less, and he watched her losing part of herself as the cost of her gift. His duty was to see she accomplished her task. One of the men passed him some cheese and bread and he gave them to her. “Eat and drink first.”
When she did not argue, Marcus knew she understood the risk of becoming weak, especially now. Once they found the circle of stone and deciphered the symbols, she would be called on to perform the ritual—and that ritual would have great physical cost. Her survival was as important as that of the descendants—without her, they could all be present and ready to use their powers, but would never succeed.
Once she ate a small amount, more than yestermorn’s, she gazed at him with an intensity he’d not seen since their departure from their island home. Her green eyes seemed so bright against her pale skin.
“There are two firebloods, Marcus. Two.”
He shook his head. All the prophecies pointed to one of each bloodline being the only one left with enough power to close the gateways. “That is not—”
“Possible? I thought not, too, but the dreams show me two of them. And the warblood is here, as well,” she said.
“Each one needs the other. What does this mean, Aislinn? Will we find two of each line now?”
“One fireblood is the goddess’ minion; the other one is the one we need for our task.” Confidence entered her weak voice, as it did when she spoke of the dreams or signs. “She is the path to the warblood’s cooperation.”
They knew that the two needed to close each gateway would be linked in some way, but Aislinn’s visions could not see all of those details yet. Marcus suspected each pair would be a man and a woman, each with a power that either complemented the other’s or controlled it, but he could not be certain. Until she could see it clearly, they were relying on their limited experience and other intuitions.
“Are the firebloods known to each other? To the warblood?” he asked. The men he’d sent would find out some of this, but Aislinn might know now.
“Connected closely,” she said, nodding. “Though the warblood has not met both yet.” She smiled then, a slight curve of her mouth, and then looked at him. “He will be a strong warrior against evil.”
“If we can convince him to carry out his part.”
“Aye.” She stood then and brushed the few crumbs from her gown. “She is already his weakness. Their connection is only beginning, and yet it is nearly unbreakable. I had no idea it could happen so quickly.”
“Nor I,” he said. None of the priests understood it; nor would they, until all the pieces stood together in plain sight like a puzzle needing to be solved. “Rest now and gain your strength if you can. Donal and Colin will not return for at least a day.”
Aislinn turned to leave him, but paused and looked at him over her shoulder. Her green eyes faded to the color of the shadows of the forest leaves now. “Will I be able to do my part, Marcus? Do you think I can?”
He smiled then, at her lack of confidence, which was not unusual for a young woman who’d never been tested. A seer himself, but with only a small portion of the power she possessed, he was certain of the answer. To his soul, to his blood and bones, he knew there was truth in the words he was about to speak to her.
“Aye, Aislinn. You will fulfill your duties in this. That much I know.”
There were dark corners in his visions where the possibilities hid from exposure, and he shivered then as she walked away. Aislinn would succeed and guide those who needed her. He would aid her however he could, as would all those who’d journeyed with them from the island.
The problem was that he had no idea if any of them would survive once they’d carried out their parts. No matter how hard he tried to see that part of the future, no amount of praying or chanting or scrying revealed it. Marcus walked to a place where he could be alone and knelt on the ground.
So many strands and threads were coming together to be woven into the future. Of many colors and textures, the warp and weft would be put in place by those who carried the blood of the gods. He could see the parts, waiting to be worked into the cloth of the future, but he could not touch them or guide them himself. Only the others could bring this weaving to fruition; he could only show them the pattern to follow.
Marcus prayed now for the wisdom he needed in the coming days, and in a moment of weakness, he prayed for the life of the young woman he considered his daughter. May the gods be merciful in this.
Though he’d toldthe blacksmith he would not pursue the man’s daughter, William found it impossible not to watch her. Over the next days, while he pondered his plan and decided when to approach Lord Hugh, he found himself standing in the shadows, just far enough away from her that he could not feel her influence, observing her as she went through her days. Roger’s scowl remained in place, a constant reminder of the folly of such actions, but William knew he must learn about her to understand his quest and her part in it.
He also knew he was not alone in watching. There were others in the forest, just beyond the valley and on the opposite hillside, others who did the same thing he did—watch and prepare. From the number of weapons he saw stored throughout the village and the troops that had arrived that sennight, Lord Hugh was planning a large endeavor. Whether a treasonous rebellion against the king or something else, William knew not . . . yet.
So he watched.
And this morn he needed to be close to Brienne, so he followed her. She walked in a different direction from her usual one, heading along the stream and around the castle. She paused often, listening for signs that she was being pursued or watched, but his tracking skills had risen to a new level since he had arrived here. He could scent her, hear her steps, and feel her ahead of him. He stopped when she did and stepped as she did. Her destination this day was a cave, hidden away behind thick brush and plants.
William waited until she’d entered, clever enough to pull branches and leaves over its low entrance, and he listened. When the cave filled with a flash of fire, he pulled the branches out of his way and called out her name.
“Brienne? Brienne, are you well?” But no one answered. He knelt down and peered inside, seeing only the fire burning in the corner and no one there.
Had he somehow lost her trail in the forest? He looked around the cave, but still saw only that fire, and so he crawled back out. Racing the way he’d come, William looked for crushed leaves and inhaled to detect her scent along the path.
