Celtic Storms (10 page)

“Does he wear a plaid?” asked Kyra.

“Nay. None that we can tell -because he is wearing a cloak.”

Minea groaned and gave Kyra a hesitant look of concern.

“It may be my father, Minea,” she said with a comforting stare.

Kyra turned to the girl and said, “Please, run and tell Moya to ready my horse. I’ll go up and change and meet you at the stables.”

Kyra grabbed the back of her shoulder length hair and tied it off as she ran up the stairs to her chambers to grab her helmet and chain mail. Thankfully she had finally caught up on her rest after returning from MacCahan territory, and a ride would be welcome. Although – she hoped she wouldn’t meet with trouble.

It’s probably just father returning early from his journey. Perhaps he will be luckier than I was and escape Darina’s detection until the morrow.
Kyra chuckled when she thought of it, knowing it would not be so.

***

It was her - the one with the big green eyes and haunting stare. Patrick watched her as she traversed the broken ground on the way to the cliff which over looked the river. She seemed in a hurry and kept looking behind her as if someone was chasing her. For a moment, he was sure she spotted him, hidden in the trees just down the path from the trail she had taken.

A flush came about her face and Patrick could see the tears stinging her cheeks and lapping about in her hair as the wind rose around her. Inch by inch she rose higher on the peek until she topped the cliff and turned to survey her lot.

She became frantic with panic and turned to look down at the rocks and cliffs below. The wind continued its assault upon her and her fiery golden red hair distorted his view of her as it overtook her face.

In the distance, the melancholy cry of a falcon seeking its prey grew closer. Closer, closer it circled towards her. It dipped down almost as if to touch her and then it rose again. She sunk to her knees and reached to grip the stones below the cliff. They loosened and fell below the rocky tips.

She has nowhere to go.

She rose again and turned to address a faceless enemy.
What is she saying? I can’t quite hear her.

The falcon screeched a forlorn warning and circled again.
By the stars, she is going to jump!
Patrick shouted into the wind, but she couldn’t hear him. She backed further and further towards the edge. He was sure the wind would take her over.

What is she looking at?

Patrick turned and saw her enemy. A black haired woman and two men were growing closer to her and she continued to edge closer to the cliff. One of the men raised a bow and pointed it towards her.

A distinct look of terror overtook her as she fell to her knees again. The falcon circled and dove towards her just as the arrow was released.

“No!” cried Patrick as he ran towards the cliff.

“No!”

“Patrick! Patrick!”

Strong arms gripped his shoulders and shook him violently. “Patrick!” it continued. “He can’t hear me. He won’t wake up,” said the voice.

“Patrick! You must wake up,” said a feminine voice.

He floated there just above the trees, watching the scene below him unfold. The falcon continued its descent as Patrick rose above the trees into the fog that covered the mountain tops. He reached for her, but she was gone. The terror in her eyes etched forever in his memory.

A dull pain erupted in the back of his head and rained shivers down the base of his neck. He felt heavy. So. Heavy.

His eyelids refused to budge and the ringing in his ears grew worse as he began to recognize something. Somewhere. Someone.

“Patrick,” it came at him again.

“Patrick! Please wake up.”

In a flash, his eyes were wide and his head felt as if it had been split clean in two.

Braeden.

He felt the familiar grip of sweat soaked bed linens wrapped about his legs and struggled for air. The scent of burning pine and woods lingered in his nostrils and he sat upright.

“Patrick, thanks be to the gods, you’re awake,” came Mavis’ hesitant voice.

Deasum entered the tent and lurched over Patrick’s near lifeless form. “Patrick, are you alright?”

“Aye.”

“You nearly scared the leaves off the trees man. We thought you were being attacked.”

“A bear,” shouted Braeden. “They had no idea what was wrong. Until I told them it was nothing but your night terrors. ‘Tis best they get used to them? Aye – Patrick?” he asked.

Patrick nodded and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He could see the stars from his tent and knew it was well into the night and almost morn. He had woken the entire camp.

“Give me a m-mo-moment, please. I’ll be out in a sh-short time,” he said to Carbry giving him a look that conveyed both comfort as well as irritation.

“Go on,” Patrick nodded towards Braeden.

“I’ll warm you some porridge,” he heard Mavis say as she sauntered back towards the roaring fire.

“Braeden, what of these night terrors of Patrick’s?” questioned Carbry as he arose from his tent to step before the fire.

“Carbry, ‘tis none of your concern,” shot Deasum from the other side of the fire.

“’Tis common place with Patrick,” interjected Mavis as she stood over the fire, stirring the oats. “He’s had these night terrors since the very moment I met him. You should grow quite used to them if you intend to safeguard your new laird.”

Braeden stretched and laid his legs out in front of the fire after setting down upon the log in front of Patrick’s tent. “Patrick has his night terrors almost every night,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“But I calm him well enough.”

“Aye, Braeden has brought him much comfort over the years.” said Mavis as she smiled.

“Is there nothing to be done?” asked Deasum.

“Nay, all has been tried. Even sleeping elixirs and resting herbs have done naught for him.”

“What are they about?” asked Carbry.

Braeden interjected before Mavis or Deasum could stop him.

“’Tis about his mother,” he said.

“Aye,” came the sound from Patrick’s tent.

Patrick rose from his tent and joined the others in front of the fire; a look of interrupted sleep adorned his face and he rubbed his arms in hopes of crushing the chill that had come upon them.

“’Twas not about my mat hair th-though,” her offered.

“What?” gasped Mavis.

“Nay,” he replied. “’Twas about the strange lass again.”

“Strange lass?” asked Carbry with an inquisitive stare. “Tell us Patrick, what have you dreamed this night?”

“Nay,” retorted Deasum. “There is no need; it is none of our concern.”

“It’s a bad omen, I tell you. We must know what he has seen,” retorted Carbry.

“It’s j-ju-just a silly dream,” replied Patrick. “B-but I will tell you.”

Burke Lands – Odetta’s Monastery

The chanting grew louder. The sound of what seemed a million voices rose in the air and mingled with the musty scent of fresh rain and autumn grass. The circle had grown larger and threatened to breech the entry doors; nearly all her disciples were there. It wouldn’t be long and she would have every last one of them.

Odetta raised her arms in the midst of her coven and bellowed, “The time is near.” The chanting turned to humming; a deep ominous sound - the mixture of voices and magic. Crackling fire wood splintered in two and filled the chamber with smoke, thick and electric.

Naelyn stood in the midst of the smoke near the hearth and opened the great scroll to read aloud.

“In the tenth moon, under raven skies;

The King will emerge and take a bride.

A kingdom secured, a people oppressed

With infinite power a king possessed.”

A sacred hush flooded the gathering and an eerie chill wound its way through the crowd, stopping to rest atop Naelyn as she closed the great scroll and ceremoniously laid it on the mantle. A startled cry echoed behind the group as a ruckus entered the hall, a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

Easal trudged forward towards the hearth while Cynbel followed closely behind, a small boy in tow. A brief look of astonishment took over Naelyn’s face and she moved to join the others in the congregation as she stepped from the platform facing the hearth.

“Here is your sacrifice, my lady,” said Cynbel mockingly, as he shoved the boy towards Odetta and the altar. A young boy, no older than perhaps eight winters, tripped as he rose towards Odetta near the altar. A look of terror and confusion apparent on his tear stained cheeks as he rubbed his freshly shaven head and spoke.

“What do you intend to do with me?” he whimpered.

“I intend to offer you to the gods as a token of our loyalty and respect,” said Odetta.

“And what will killing me do for you?” he asked bravely and with a defiant lip.

“You ask too many questions,” she retorted.

***

Kyra mounted her horse and whispered her goodbyes to Moya as she exited the stables. The sun was going down quickly and she needed to intercept whoever was riding towards the keep before it became too dark to see. As she rounded the path towards the outer gates she heard a comforting familiar sound.

The shrill cry of Darina’s falcon, Riann became louder the closer Kyra came to the exterior walls of the castle. She could barely make out her shape as she flew circles around the bay under the backdrop of the setting sun. But there was no mistaking her call. As if she sensed her presence, Riann raised high and riding the wind, wound her way down towards the lone rider.

“You’ll have company this eve,” said the sentry as Kyra grew closer to the outer gate.

“It appears I will.”

“No doubt it is your father, I presume. Else Riann would have warned us already.”

“Of that I’m sure,” said Kyra as she motioned for the guards to begin turning the gate wheels. “Of that I’m sure, indeed.”

Unable to contain her curiosity, and dissatisfied with the limited view afforded by the arrow slit windows in her chamber -Darina quickly dressed and headed down the stairs towards the castle doors.

“My lady, what are you off to in so much haste?” inquired Odhran, the castle bailiff, from the fireplace in the great hall.

“Riann is loose again and signaling an approaching rider. I believe Kyra is headed in that direction as well. I’m off to see if I may be of service.”

“Nay – you will not. Your uncle would have my head if he thought I humored you thusly. You won’t go any further than the middle wall – do you
ken
? It is night fall and near past your curfew.”

“Aye – I hear you Odhran,” grumbled Darina. “I must see Lucian though, to determine how Riann got loose this time. I can’t seem to secure her of late. She is always about when she should be in her quarters on her perch.”

“Nay, my lady. Lucian is long past slumbering and Riann is returning even now. You can speak with her yourself,” he chuckled under his breath. “Perhaps she should reside in your room with you if you wish to keep a better eye on her.”

Darina could not contain the look of disdain and rebellion that rose up over her neck and sent a deep flush over her face.
Always being told what to do. I am so tired of being treated as a child. Soon – I shall be married and no one will have such control over me, I will be the Laird’s wife and I will be in control for once.

“Not bloody likely.”

“Dervilla, you liked to have scared the skin off of me,” Darina retorted. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?”

“I came to see what has become of your precious Riann. I went in to give her some mice, and she was missing again from her perch. When I heard her cries, I assumed she had gone out with Kyra to intercept the rider.”

“Can I have no thoughts that are mine alone, dear sister?”

“I’m not sure, can you?” retorted Dervilla. “You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings Darina; it isn’t very hard at all to surmise your thoughts.”

“For once, let’s not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about - now can’t we? We both know how you enjoy trespassing in areas you don’t belong Dervilla. I’ve long suspected that Lucian has had quite a bit to do with it as well.”

“Oh Lucian, but how you enjoy blaming him for so many things, Darina. He told mother you have the gift as well.”

Bloody hell he did. What vivid imaginations those two conjured together. The “gifts,” the “curses,” the “blessings”, the nonsense! All of it – pagan nonsense!

“
Darina, one day you will wish you had paid more attention to this nonsense.”

“I think not. You with all your gods and shamans have never succeeded in breaking any curses you believe hover over our land, placed there – may I add – by other pagans!”

Nay – I’ve no use for any of it. God, god, gods, goddesses – NONSENSE!

“
I seem to recall, Darina, a time when Father MacArtrey had nearly convinced you to take the vows of an Anchoress.”

“And - what of it?”

“You didn’t seem to think it such nonsense then.”

“Well, that was many years ago. I grew tired of Lucian’s teachings. None of his stories ever made sense to me. I was looking for something that would make sense, not just another shaman.”

“Lucian is not just another shaman and you know it, Darina. He is the last in a long line of O’Malley clan holy men. And he is doing his best to make sure that all the rites, ceremonies, and knowledge are passed down for future generations.”

“Dervilla, believe what you will. Worship as many gods or goddesses or things as you like – just leave me be. And – stay out of my head!”

“Darina, I fear for you. Your gifts are as strong as or stronger than mothers were. Yet, you deny them.”

“I have no gifts, save my intellect. I refuse to use whatever intellect I may have to interfere with other people’s lives. It’s manipulative and it’s wrong.”