Page 136 of Dark Rival
She tensed, stunned, and turned to face Elasaid.
Allie couldn’t breathe. Mom.
Her mother smiled gently at her, but not with a mother’s affection. Her expression was impersonal. “You are a Healer,” she said softly. “And you are so afraid for Ruari.”
Allie realized that she was face-to-face with her mother centuries before she had been conceived. Elasaid was dressed simply, in a long, belted gown, and Allie somehow knew she was very young, at least in immortal terms. To make sure, she whispered, “Is this your time?”
Elasaid seemed slightly bewildered. “Yes, I remain in my time. You are favored by my father,” she added. “He came to watch over you this day.”
Allie’s heart raced wildly. “I felt an Ancient nearby. Who was it?”
“Lug,” she said with a smile. “You are very blessed—and so very young.”
Allie reeled. Her grandfather was the most powerful of the gods, although some might say he was second to Dagdha. And he had been with her while she was in the pit. He had reached out to touch her and comfort her.
“Your destiny is written,” Elasaid said. “It is decided by the Ancients.”
“Can you see it?” Allie asked.
She hesitated. “Yes, I can.”
Allie tried to think. Did her mother know that one day she would give birth to her? “Your Fate is written, too, isn’t it?” Allie finally asked.
“Of course. I am here to heal, as you are. And one day, I will bequeath the world another Healer.” Her gaze searched Allie’s and then she smiled. “You are my daughter, aren’t you?”
Allie’s heart leapt. Tears arose. She managed to nod.
“I can’t see my own future,” Elasaid said, “but Lug is your grandfather and he is my father. You have the power I had at your age. You are from the future—my future.”
Allie started to cry. “You taught me everything I know.”
Elasaid slipped her hand into Allie’s. “You are so beautiful—your light shines like a holy beacon. I look forward to the day I hold you in my arms. Now, may I send you back to your time?”
Allie held her mother’s hand tightly, knowing that when she let go, it was probably forever. “I have to find Royce,” Allie said hoarsely, and she let go. “I will not let evil kill him.”
“I don’t know where he has gone, but, my darling, his Fate is also written, and what is written cannot be changed.”
Tears fell. “I’ll never give up. Can you send me back to October 5, 1430?”
Elasaid nodded. “Go with the gods,” she said.
HE CHOSE TO LAND a hundred years later, in the French city of Paris, a place he had never visited once in his entire life—a place he could not be—a place where he was sure to have his powers. Pain exploded in his skull as he hit the ground, and he heard Moffat cry out, while feeling his evil nearby.
He needed all of his powers now, but he was powerless for a moment and acutely aware of it. In those first minutes, had a living being come by, man or woman, he would have ruthlessly taken all of his or her power to replenish his own. Fortunately, the deamhan suffered the same loss of power in the first few moments after a landing and Moffat was as helpless as he was.
He felt the power flooding into him as the pain in his skull dulled. Royce sat up, reaching for his sword.
Moffat, who had followed him, lay still.
Royce leapt up to kill his enemy.
He raised his sword; Moffat’s eyes went wide. Their gazes locked as they blasted one another with energy. Royce brought the blade down on Moffat’s neck. But the deamhan vanished just as his sword met corded tendon and taut flesh before slicing through.
He screamed in rage and followed.
HE FOUGHT THE PAIN of the landing, blinking at the stars exploding in the sky, reaching out to feel Moffat. Instantly, as the purple blackness lightened and became gray, he felt his evil presence. A moment later he stared up at a terribly familiar wall. Dread arose—he was at Carrick.
His mind blazed and he decided he had followed Moffat to the early eighteenth century. He managed to sit up, aware that his powers were beginning to return, and knowing he must flee this place immediately. Surely, somewhere on the grounds, he would find his older self.
