Destiny of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 4)

by Mary Morgan

  Rory shifted his stance. “Are we to be banished from the Brotherhood for this grave error?”

  “An interesting question, MacGregor.” Aidan moved aside and steadily made his way down the path.

  The warriors followed alongside him. After an hour wandering through the Fae hills, Liam slowed his steps. “Is there a reason we’re walking and not magically transporting to the Brotherhood?”

  Aidan smirked, but resumed his pace. “Another fascinating question.”

  When the second hour approached, Rory halted and bent over. Sweat poured off his brow.

  “Is there a problem, Fenian Warrior?” inquired Aidan.

  A muscle twitched in Rory’s jaw as he slowly straightened. “No.”

  “Excellent,” professed Aidan. “It’s only ten more miles to the Angora Waterfalls.”

  Both brothers exchanged looks of horror, but swiftly masked their expressions and descended the path to the meadow leading to the falls.

  Onward they traversed, and Aidan had to contain his mirth when one or the other would stumble, groan, or utter a foul curse after tripping over an exposed tree root or stone in their path. His mood had lightened considerably the farther they went, enjoying the pitiful reactions from the two brothers. If his plan succeeded, they would sweat out the elixir’s potent effects by the time they reached the water.

  When the roar of the waterfalls reached them, Rory muttered, “Finally.”

  Aidan pressed forward, brushing aside the thick foliage. Entering the serene place, he followed the stone path leading upward.

  “Are we to climb the steep area?” asked Rory.

  Ignoring the MacGregor, Aidan continued his ascent. After reaching the top, he rid himself of his tunic. Folding his arms over his chest, he shouted, “You both have twenty seconds to reach the top, or we shall begin this journey all over again! And no magic!”

  Both brothers glanced at each other, and the race for the top began in earnest. Liam shoved his brother back and jumped on the second stone step, making quick strides. Yet, Rory swiftly regained his stance and dashed to the other side of the waterfalls. Each determined to be the first to the top, and Aidan fought the smile forming on his mouth.

  The MacGregor brothers were back in competition to best the other.

  Once, Liam stumbled, but righted himself and resumed the trek upward. Despite how much Rory complained during their journey, he still managed to make it to the top before Liam.

  “Should you not be over here?” barked out Liam, wiping a hand down the back of his neck.

  Rory roared with laughter. “Of course, little brother.” With a flick of his wrist, he transported himself to Liam’s side.

  Liam jabbed a finger into his chest. “As always, you cheated. Might I remind you, I am the same size as you.”

  His brother shrugged in good humor. “I did not use magic to climb the stones, only to be by your side. Furthermore, Aidan did not mention which side of the waterfall to ascend. And as you are the youngest in our family, I considered using the term, little brother to annoy you.”

  Pleased to see the brothers back to their semi-normal selves, Aidan clamped a hand on each warrior’s shoulder. “Let this be a lesson to you both. I shall not tolerate another incident like this one again. Nor will I fetch you myself. In the future, I will send the council guards.”

  All traces of humor vanished from Rory and Liam, and they nodded solemnly.

  “This week was one where many learned valuable lessons on the path to being a Fenian Warrior. Not only must you learn to control your carnal urges, but also the power you will possess and wield. I dismissed Loman from the Brotherhood for ignoring a direct order and misuse of his powers. I deem the situation might have been avoided if you both were there to thwart the warrior’s lack of discretion when building the energy.”

  Liam narrowed his eyes. “He did not listen to me when I explained the danger. His arrogance was his downfall.”

  “As yours could have been,” countered Aidan.

  “You have my word this will not happen again,” stated Liam.

  “And mine as well,” affirmed Rory.

  “Good. Now swim five hundred laps through the healing waters to rid the last traces of the elixir from your veins, and we shall speak no more of this incident. After you have completed your task, you may transport yourselves magically to your chamber within the Brotherhood.” Without giving them a chance to utter a complaint, Aidan pushed them both over the waterfall.

  Their combined cries of displeasure echoed within the mists and roar of the water.

  Aidan settled himself on a nearby boulder. He had no need to supervise the MacGregor brothers any further. Leaning forward, he cast his sight across the expanse of the river below. Once again, a flicker of discontentment wove a thread within his soul. Quickly banishing it on a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder.

  The leaves fluttered in the warm spring air, and a white stag with golden horns appeared. His regal stature and horns suggested his leadership among the others within the forest. Aidan stood slowly. He waited patiently for the animal to approach. However, it remained rooted in its position.

  “What quest must I seek? Do you bring a message from Mother Danu, or are you merely passing through?” Though Aidan judged it was the latter. The great Goddess normally chose to communicate with him in floral scents and song.

  As the soft afternoon light spilled over its form, the animal transformed into a stag—resembling the ones living in the human world.

  Frustration overrode curiosity. “My purpose is here—to train the Fenian Warriors. There are others who can assist the humans in their world. Seek them out.”

  Blinding pain seared into his thoughts, and Aidan closed his eyes.

  “It is your destiny, Fenian Warrior.”

  Chapter Three

  “Snip the petals from the foxglove, bluebells, and primrose. Toss with sprigs of rosemary and scatter along a path around your home.”

  ~Society of the Thistle

  Glasgow, Scotland ~ Spring 1986

  “If you had let me trim your hair, none of this would have happened,” declared Lily between fits of laughter.

  “Get the bloody animals away from me! The length of my hair has nothing to do with this awful situation.”

  “Rose MacLaren! Those are our beloved goats. For shame.”

  “They’re eating my hair and clothes. I’m trapped,” complained Rose, doing her best to free herself from the assault of the animals surrounding her in their enclosure.

  Her sister continued to laugh at the scene, instead of trying to help her out of her current predicament. “You should have let me tend to them, instead of wading out in your good clothes.” She sputtered on hysterical fits of laughter. “At least you had the common sense to put on your wellies.”

  “They had to be fed, and I didn’t see any of the others helping.”

  Lily wagged a finger at her. “Sorry we can’t be like you and rise from our beds at the first call of the songbird. Or the streak of sunlight which graces the morn.”

  “Ouch! I swear by the Goddess, Lily, if you don’t help me this instant, I’m going to tell Deacon that you fancy him.” She tugged, attempting to turn around, but to no avail.

  Her sister sobered instantly. “You would not dare?”

  Rose winced from the pain, trying to pull her hair free from the mouths of two stubborn animals. “Did I say fancy? I meant to say lust. Or is it love? Yes, I believe you l.o.v.e him.”

  “You’re a wicked sister! You know I despise the man!” Lily stormed off into the barn continuing with her litany of objections.

  Now it was Rose’s turn to laugh. However, the effort cost her, and she yelped in pain. “Blast it all!”

  Her sister soon returned carrying a sack containing sweet carrots from the garden. After tossing most of the vegetables into a corner, she coaxed the remaining few animals away from Rose’s skirt and hair with remnants of what was left in the bag.

  “Finally
.” Rose twisted the mass of hair around the front of her body, inspecting the ends. “Sweet Brigid! What a sodden mess.”

  Lily snorted. “Looks like you’ll need that trim after all.”

  Rose darted an incredulous look at her sister. “I won’t let you near me with any form of shears.”

  “You wound me, Sister,” Lily teased as she climbed over the fence and ran off toward the barn. “I can’t help it my eyesight is worse than yours.”

  Grumbling another curse, Rose rapidly exited the pen, securing the gate behind her. Not only was her hair in shambles, but also her clothes. As she glanced upward at the sun’s direction, she realized she was late again for her class on Herbology at the university. “It’s not like I need the knowledge,” she muttered, wiping the grime from her hands onto her skirt and heading toward the cluster of elm trees. “I believe I can recite the Latin name of every herb, foliage, and tree in Scotland.”

  “But not those in the rest of the world,” argued the female voice behind her.

  Rose stumbled, but quickly righted herself, and then turned on her friend. “Honestly, Maeve? Did you swoop down from the air to scare me?”

  Her friend glared at her. “Did you wake up this morning intending on being spiteful to everyone you encountered?”

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, Rose went to a large boulder beneath one of the trees. “I’m sorry. Can I blame my foul mood on the impending full moon?”

  “No, it won’t work for an explanation. You of all people know how to harness the energy of the Goddess during this time.” Maeve motioned her to move down, so she could sit next to her.

  Rose wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m distracted and unable to focus. My nerves are jumbled, and I can’t make any sense of the dreams I’m having.”

  “Dreams? Not visions?”

  Rose plucked a leaf from her hair, feeling the heat rise along her neck. “I seriously doubt a vision would contain three moons.”

  “It could be the triple Goddess,” mused Maeve. She tapped a finger to her mouth. “Or she’s informing you to attend the Beltaine festival outside the city.”

  “And an extremely tall man?” Rose dared not look at her friend.

  “Have you seen him before?” Her question held a note of curiosity.

  Inspecting her hands, Rose replied. “Never. Though, his features were hidden and his back turned toward me.”

  “And this bothers you?”

  Rose swallowed and stood. “His voice was commanding, powerful, intoxicating.” She darted a glance over her shoulder. “Yet, I didn’t understand any of the words. He spoke in a foreign tongue.”

  Maeve arched a brow. “A sensual dream?”

  Rose threw her hands up in frustration. “With whom? I haven’t dated anyone in over a year, and I have no desire to meet anyone. I’m far too busy.”

  “How long have you had this particular dream?”

  “A week.”

  Maeve patted the boulder. “Come sit and give me the details.”

  “I can’t. Each time I reflect on the dream, my nerves become frazzled.” Rose twisted her hands together.

  “Have you written them down?”

  “Goodness no! I never write down my visions.”

  Maeve pointed a finger at her. “But you said they were dreams, which is important in any journal.”

  Wiping a hand over her brow, Rose debated if she should draw the image. “Perhaps I should sketch the details?”

  Smiling, Maeve nodded. “My next suggestion. Can you share anything else?”

  She glanced upward at the sunlight streaming down through the canopy of trees. “It begins with a flash of brilliant light, expanding to reveal a mound. I am drawn by the beauty of the area. When I step through, darkness descends around me, and the stars glitter like diamonds in the black sky. I remain standing and watch as three moons rise over the crest, illuminating the man standing in the middle of the hill. His hands are lifted as if in reverence.”

  Clasping her hands to her rapidly beating heart, Rose added, “His stance spoke volumes. His hair was dark as ebony, and a body that looks chiseled from the Gods. He is without a shirt, and his voice—deep and sensual—echoes to my soul. The markings on his back are reminiscent of Celtic spirals, so I understand he follows the same path as we do.”

  Silently, Rose returned to her friend’s side. “He speaks to me every night, and though I do not understand the words, his meaning is clear.”

  “He is coming for you, Rose,” confirmed Maeve.

  “For what purpose? Does he herald a new beginning? A path?” Rose shook her head slowly. “Surely, he must be a God honoring the Goddess and wants me to do the same. Or I am seeing a dream from the past.”

  Maeve poked her in the arm. “This vision has stirred emotions in you.”

  “Dream,” corrected Rose once again and stood. She slammed the door on the images and feelings within her body. “Whenever I have a vision, it’s only once. They never repeat, so I have to conclude it’s only a recurring dream.”

  “And I disagree,” argued Maeve, rising to stand by her side. “You are drawn to him, his words, and the three moons. By the way this has you rattled, I can only presume it’s a portent of something coming your way.”

  How could Rose dispute her friend’s wisdom and counsel? Maeve’s gift of intuition and inner sight was often more powerful than hers. There were times when she longed to possess another gift like the other women in The Society of the Thistle. Trying to discern meanings from the visions left her baffled and frustrated.

  Rose chewed on her bottom lip as she made her way back to the main house. “I don’t need a man in my life. It’s only the God and Goddess sending me a dream.”

  “The more you fight the tide of prophecy, the more it will bring you under. Accept the message or drown and miss the meaning, Rose.”

  “How can I understand when I don’t know the language?” she shouted over her shoulder.

  “Don’t let fear rule your heart! The next time you dream, walk forward.”

  “Damn it all,” whispered Rose, and then regretted the outburst. A vision or dream came from the Goddess, and it should not be treated with disrespect. “Forgive me, Goddess. I shall do my best to decipher this message. Yet, why do you send it to me over and over each night?”

  Distracted by her earlier conversation with her friend, Rose almost collided into the oncoming bicyclist. “Oh! Sorry, Colleen,” she blurted out, darting out of the way.

  The woman gave her a smile and waved in passing, heading around the back of the main house. “Enough of men and moons. I’ll dwell on the meaning later.”

  Rose entered the mudroom of the massive two-story house. Depositing her boots alongside all the other pairs, she ran up the stairs to her room. After stripping free from her clothes, she inspected her skirt. Muttering a curse, she tossed it in the rubbish bin. At least her blouse had survived the munching attack from the goats. She hastily cleaned up and surveyed the damage done to her hair. Retrieving a pair of shears, she left in search of one of the other women living with them.

  Lily greeted her at the bottom of the staircase, presenting her with a fresh-baked scone. “A peace offering for not attempting to free you earlier.”

  The aroma of cinnamon and spices wafted by her, and her stomach protested. “And I’m sorry for threatening you with romantic lies about Deacon.” Her mouth twitched in humor. “Though, you should have seen the look on your face.”

  Lily smacked her playfully. “Good thing I love you.”

  After placing a kiss on her sister’s cheek, Rose accepted the warm scone. “I love you, too.” Taking a bite, she savored the sweetness and closed her eyes. “Mmm…you make the best, sis.”

  “Why, thank you. But I must confess that Katie made these.”

  Rose snapped open her eyes and brushed a few crumbs away from her mouth. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, and with minimal supervision. Not only is she a splendid empath, but a fine
baker.” Lily linked her arm through hers. “What’s on the agenda for the Society since you’re not going to class today?”

  Rose devoured the rest of the scone. “We could look over the plans on the newest project near Aberdeen?”

  “The one in the wooded area? The village of Corridon?” inquired Lily, moving them along the corridor.

  “Correct. I’m anxious to find out what the ruins mean and see if there’s a connection with the dig nearby outside of Glasgow. I heard a student mention peculiar writing on the stones here that are similar to the ones recently uncovered in Corridon.”

  Frowning, Lily tugged on her arm. “Our instructions were to inspect the plants and other rare specimens and flowers on both sites.”

  “And we will, but if there are ancient writings on any of the standing stones surrounding the ruins, we might be able to glimpse what type of foliage was growing there thousands of years ago.” Rose steered them into the library and toward the desk.

  “Since when does the Society concern itself with the writing on ancient stones? You do realize there is already an archaeological team there, right? Furthermore, I thought your classes kept you from these projects.”

  “So I’ve been told by Professor Linton. And I’ve made the decision to drop my one class at the university in favor of doing this research.” She placed the shears on the desk. Reaching for her glasses, Rose inspected a map of the area. She pointed to a space about a half-kilometer from the area they were given permission to survey. “It’s in the direct path of the site we’re working on, so I don’t see why we can’t record notes from the stones.”

  Lily braced her hands on the desk, studying the map. “Have you forgotten about the warning from the last mishap?”

  “Tsk, tsk, such formal language.”

  “I’m serious, Rose,” warned her sister. “The university could have banned us from any future excavations. You had no right inserting your beliefs that it was first Vikings, not Saxons who settled along the banks of the Kaylean River.”