Shadows and Light

knees toward him.
    “Breanna, I don’t—”
    “I know, Liam. I know. It will be all right. You drew too much power, that’s all. Now you have to ground it, give it back to the Mother. Focus, Liam. Focus on holding on to the fire, of not letting it go.”
    The heat began building in his hand, started flowing back up his arm. Too hot. Too hot. He had to let it go or burn.
    Breanna got to her feet and sprinted to cover the last bit of distance between them. She grabbed his arm, then dropped to her knees, pulling him down with her.
    “Put your hands on the ground,” Breanna said, her voice firm but quiet.
    “It’ll burn,” Liam protested.
    “No, it won’t.” She tugged at him until his hands were pressed against the earth.
    The grass beneath his hands wilted, turned brown, began to crisp.
    “What do you feel?” Breanna asked.
    “Heat. It’s building again.” Liam heard the panic in his voice, but couldn’t control that any more than he could control the heat.
    “Heat is how you feel the power you’re drawing from the Mother. You don’t need it, so you’re going to give it back. Concentrate, Liam. Concentrate on slowly sending that heat into the land. Picture it spreading out under the land, spreading out like a warm, shallow pool of water rather than a basin of boiling water. The heat flows softly out of your hands. Softly. Softly. Can you picture that?”

    Closing his eyes, he could picture it quite clearly. He felt the heat spread out under his hands. The ground was already sun-warmed from the day and hadn’t begun to cool with the coming twilight. It felt a little warmer now, but not hot. Thank the Great Mother, it didn’t feel hot.
    Breanna ran her hands down his arms. He felt the heat follow her hands as she guided it to the land.
    When she finally sat back on her heels, his hands still felt hot but the rest of his body was cold enough that he started shivering.
    “That’s enough for now,” Breanna said. “We’ll go back to the house and finish it there.”
    Liam looked up. The men who had come with Clay to gather the horses and, when they saw the burning pasture, to put out the fire, were standing a few lengths away, just staring at him with a strange expression on their faces.
    “The fire,” Liam said, his voice rough as he forced it out of a parched throat.
    “Rory and some of the others can control it,” Breanna said. “It won’t spread.” She looked at the men. “I need to get him back to the house.”
    “Take one of the horses,” Clay said. “We’ll wait here for Nuala.”
    Rory stepped forward. He took one of Liam’s arms while Breanna took the other. “Can you get to your feet, Baron Liam, or do we need to be carrying you?” Rory asked.
    “I can stand.” He could—barely—but he was grateful for their support as they walked him toward the nervous horses.
    Breanna mounted one of the horses. With Rory’s help, Liam mounted behind her. She held the horse to a canter, which told Liam she was more confident of his ability not to set them both on fire than he was. He wasn’t sure what more she could do at the house to help him, but he wanted to get there as fast as possible.
    Then he heard ... He wasn’t sure what he’d heard until he glanced over his right shoulder and saw the hawk flying above them, keeping pace with the horse. He’d never heard a hawk be quite that... vocal...
    but if that was a Fae Lord, he, being another man, had a good idea what opinions the hawk was expressing about being tossed out of a fight by a witch more determined to protect others than be protected.
    “Breanna,” Liam said, intending to call her attention to their escort.
    Her back stiffened. “I’ll deal with him later.”
    Liam grinned. If he were a betting man, he’d wager on the witch to win. He wondered if the hawk would be following them if it had any idea what it would have to deal with as soon as Breanna got done dealing with him.
    As they rode through the pasture near the house, his grin faded. There were a lot of unanswered questions about him now, weren’t there?
    An hour later, Liam watched the steam gently rising from the basin of water. The water had been cold when Breanna poured it over his hands a few minutes ago, but it didn’t stay cold long, not with the heat still draining from his hands.
    When Breanna led him into the kitchen, shouting for someone to bring a large basin and cold water, several women had hurried to bring what was needed. After observing