By Vengeance Guided (The Lost Shrines Book 1) (2 page)

His wings opened wide in the night air and cold washed over him. Caerwyn was maneuvered to the side and the full force of his Attribute took over. The sense of displacement no longer took him by surprise but, coupled with the vertigo, it left him uncomfortable in his own skin.

He felt his mouth open, heard words come out in a deep, uninflected voice, so different from his own, when the Attribute of Vengeance addressed the girls. And yet, the ritual words were comfortingly familiar.

"What do you seek?"

The girls, already so small, huddled close and stared with trembling awe. He feared they wouldn't be able to answer in their fear. But the oldest found some inner resolve.

With the tiniest step forward, and away from the safety of her clinging sisters, she lifted her chin and spoke the proper words in a voice that only trembled a little. "We seek vengeance."

If he had any control at the moment, Caer would have graced her with an encouraging smile for her courage. Vengeance was fully in charge, however, and there was no room for Caerwyn's softer emotions as long as there was a job to be done.

Instead, his voice rose, demanding the rest of the ritual words.

"For what do you seek vengeance?"

The echoes vibrated from the trees and the girl started to shake again. Reaching behind her, she clasped the hand of her nearest sister with a white knuckled grip. But her eyes remained glued to his while she listed the litany of crimes against her family.

"We seek vengeance for the unjust imprisoning of our father. For the abuse our brother received at the hands of his guards. For the virginity he has stolen from me in order to keep my brother from prison. For what he expected to steal from my sisters this night to keep our father from the gallows."

Her voice broke on a sob, her face no longer pale, but red with anger and shame. Her sisters crowded closer, their need to comfort stronger than the fear of the Lord of Vengeance.

Once again, Brunhil raised her chin, cheeks shining from the tears. Her voice no longer shook, but came out strong, steady and clear. "We seek vengeance for the pain and suffering and irretrievable loss caused by this man's abuse of his power as Magistrate."

The last of her resolve ran out with her words and she slumped back against her sisters. They gathered close, holding each other tight and whispering words of hope and reassurance.

There was no such softness within Caerwyn, at the moment. He and his Attribute were in full agreement and his head turned to glare at Beste. The Magistrate's entire body quivered, his eyes darting from Hound to Caerwyn to Hound seeking an escape that didn't exist.

"Not me," he cried, shaking his head with violent abandon. "Not me. They're lying. The father is guilty. Their brother is an accessory. I swear. I am on the side justice…"

Caerwyn's lips peeled back, a savage baring of teeth while the predator took stock of his cornered prey.

Behind him, his wings stretched to their full expanse, sending macabre shadows dancing in the lantern’s slim light. Icy power pooled in his veins and he stared with unblinking judgment at Beste.

"Stand." Cold authority filled the command. "Stand and be Judged."

The shadows swirled closer, enveloping them in a black fog of his Attribute's power not even the lantern's light could penetrate. Beste continued to babble as he jerked to his feet, his body obeying even though his brain fought against it.

Caerwyn ignored the stream of words coming from the terrified man and watched while the golden light of his Attribute revealed the darkness. Beste's soul opened up to him like a dark map. Every landmark and line read
guilty
.

"You have been Judged, Jeremiah Beste. Your soul is riddled with the guilt of a multitude of crimes. But I am here to avenge only one."

Beste had fallen silent, finally, when the Attribute's words flowed out of Caerwyn's mouth. Now, he sagged a little in relief. Then the shadows descended on him, blocking the Magistrate from sight in a thick cloak of night. The dark silence was ominous as all eyes in the clearing tried to watch the unwatchable.

When the darkness dissipated, Beste was once again on his knees. The tears flowed unchecked down his face and sobs of anguish tore from his throat. His eyes stretched wide, unblinking and devoid of anything but pain and terror. Whatever he was seeing, it was no longer the clearing or the people gathered there.

Inch by inch, the deep emotionless freeze within Caerwyn receded. His wings folded back, feathers always surprisingly soft against his skin, sank in and faded from sight.

He took a minute to get his bearings and his balance, adjusting once more to the world around him as Caerwyn, Lord of Alwyn while Caerwyn, Lord of Vengeance waned.

Finally, the girls found the courage to move closer. When Beste showed no notice of their movement, Brunhil waved her hand in front of his face. Still no reaction from the man. The sobs had quieted to hoarse whimpers and the tears had slowed but had not stopped.

"What did you do to him?"

"He is reliving the pain and fear and despair of every victim he ever mistreated while Magistrate."

"Oh. I thought you said he would only be punished for one crime?"

"He is. His crime was the misuse of his position. In his life, he has committed a great many crimes that had nothing to do with being Magistrate."

"How long will he remain like that?"

Caerwyn shrugged.

"A few months. A few years. It will depend on how many victims and how much he hurt each one." He shrugged again. "From the glimpse of his soul, I would guess, years."

The girl dropped her chin, glancing back at her sisters. "And our father? What will happen to him now that the Magistrate is…incapable?"

Before the Milesan answered, a voice spoke from behind him.

"I'll take care of that. He'll be released tonight and a real investigation into the thefts will be made."

Caerwyn spun toward the sound, shifting to put his body between the sisters and the intruder.

The Hounds growled, straining between their duty to guard the prisoner and their duty to protect Caerwyn. He waved them off, keeping his focus on the three strangers standing in the clearing.

The two larger men, dressed in leather fighting gear and taking defensive, alert positions behind the third, were obviously bodyguards of some sort. The smaller man stood relaxed and amused, his garments even finer than Beste's. This man, though, exuded power that the clothes merely enhanced, whereas the Magistrate had used the frippery to try to impress and push his self-importance at others.

"Who are you?"

"Daen. Prince of Galwei." That explained the guards, anyway. But not what he was doing here. Now. They weren't far from the capital, but this village was hardly the kind of place for a late night stroll.

"What brings you to these woods, at this time of night?" Crossing his arms, Caer forced his shoulders to relax.

The casual smirk slipped and the prince's eyes hardened. For a moment, Caer wasn't sure the man would answer.

Then Daen pushed out an angry breath, and, like Caer, forced the most obvious tension out of his muscles to feign a relaxed attitude.

"The local Baron is… He has difficulty with confrontation."

Caerwyn nodded in acknowledgment. It hadn't taken him long to figure out the local nobility, who should have been a failsafe against Beste's corruption, was little more than a coward. He spent his entire life with his head in the sands so he didn't have to do anything about men like the Magistrate.

"He, apparently, has been turning a deaf ear to the rumors for years, but even he couldn't ignore the gossip about what Beste was doing with--" Daen faltered and glanced at the three girls, still huddled together in wide-eyed confusion and awe at the appearance of their prince.

Daen sighed. "He didn't feel competent in dealing with it, however, and called to the capital for help."

"And the prince himself answers the call?"

The knowing smile returned, but Caerwyn smelled the tension ramp up in the clearing. The Hounds responded as well, shifting uneasily behind him.

"I felt the need to stretch my legs. And, as Magistrate, Beste dispenses justice in my name. I take that kind of thing personally."

The scent of deception was wrapped in truth, but Caer shrugged it off. Whatever Daen's agenda was, his part in the local drama was done.

"Of course." Caer jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You want us to take care of him, or do you have plans for him?"

"Well, I had planned to force him to stand for justice in
my
court, but it seems unnecessary considering his current condition." Daen nodded to one of the guards. "Take him back to the village gaol and release the girls' father. We'll send Beste to the capitol and find someplace for him to live out his punishments."

The two bodyguards moved forward, taking control of the prisoner, casting nervous glances at Hounds. Madd and his brothers remained still and silent, hot eyes tracking every move with watchful diligence.

"Would you care to join me in accepting the Baronet's hospitality?"

Caerwyn narrowed his eyes and assessed the prince. The offer appeared spontaneous and casual, but there was something tight in his voice. Curious, he shrugged with a nonchalant ripple of shoulders.

"I don't have anything planned for tonight." He glanced toward the three young women.

"Maddyn, would you and your brothers escort the girls back home to wait for their father to return."

All three immediately got to their feet, making the clearing seem smaller by their sheer bulk. Brunhil cast a hesitant glance at the dogs, then exchanged a nervous look with her younger sisters.

Caer smiled and tilted his head in Maddyn’s direction. "I think those forms have served their purpose for the evening."

Madd's huge head swung around to glare at him. Then the air around the three white Hounds shimmered. A moment later, three nearly identical men in white fighting leathers stood in place of the Hounds. Tall and strong, the three blond men were as massive and vicious looking in human form as they were in canine shape. Then Maddyn stepped forward, a concerned smile softening his features when he offered an elaborate bow that made the youngest girl giggle.

The guards moved off first with Beste in tow, followed by the Hounds, escorting Brunhil and her sisters, leaving Caerwyn alone with Daen.

"I didn't know the Milesans still responded to human requests for help."

The comment was casual, an offhand way to break the silence. Once again, though, Caer heard that tightness in Daen's voice.

His lips twitched and he answered with equal casualness. "Oh, we respond to those who remember the old ways and the proper words."

"Ah. Not many remember the ways or the words anymore. Most believe it is all so much superstition."

"Do you?"

"I did. I believed those old stories to be just that, stories. That is, until I saw it with my own eyes tonight."

He paused. Comfortable in the cover of darkness, Daen did not attempt to mask his expression. Caer, however, clearly saw the considering look cast his way before the prince spoke again.

"I believe meeting you tonight is a sign. I hope you might see my current plight as a worthy cause."

The words were carefully chosen, spoken with slow deliberateness. Before Caer could decide how to interpret that, Daen was talking again.

"I believe I have been cursed by a sorceress in league with my enemy."

The word
sorceress
left him cold and Caerwyn clamped down on the dark, ugly memories it conjured in him.

"What sort of curse?"

"At first, I believed myself in love with her. Now, I believe this obsession may not be natural. As much as I want to be free of it, I cannot stop thinking of her. Cannot stop yearning to make her my wife."

"And who is your enemy?"

"The Warlord Tresk. Ruler of Marnak."

Caerwyn's stride faltered, and he was grateful for the cover of night to disguise his reaction. He recovered quickly and two steps caught him up to Daen. He kept his voice calm and demeanor aloof while he probed for more information.

*****

With a burst of speed, Liadan d'Hara ran for the forest. The dense trees and thick foliage beckoned to her. Her breath came in shallow pants as she pushed herself. She ran as if the world was chasing her though she was alone in the moonless night. The further and faster she ran, the more relaxed and joyful she became, releasing the stress of one too many problems the day had brought her.

Night air whispered around Liadan, cool and liberating where it moved along her skin. Her bare feet skimmed over the dew-soaked grass while she raced across the lawn.

The third-hand trousers she wore, once so familiar, now felt strange and unnatural after nothing but months of stiff dresses. But with every step, sense memory was coming back. Too soon she touched the big, ancient oak that marked the boundary between the manor grounds and the forest surrounding it.

Rough bark skinned her palms when Lia leaned against it to catch her breath and stare longingly into the dark mystery of the wild wood beyond. Remembering when this was her domain. When exploring its natural secrets was her only job. When sketching its enigmatic beauty her only responsibility.