“I’m telling you, he would not. If my father knew you were forcing me to stay away from my own property, my right to be at the helm of my fleet—against my will—he would be quite grieved.”
Aisling retreated to the waiting carriage. “I’ll not stay there for long,” she murmured. Uncle may think this conversation is over, she thought, but it’s just beginning.
Aisling sat in the carriage with her paid escorts, jolting across the bogland terrain. As they arrived at the abbey, the sun was setting, and the candles in the arched windows cast a welcoming glow. She thought back to the time when she attended school here, until the cloister had been attacked and the monuments and artifacts destroyed. After that hostile invasion, learning was conducted in a place where they would not be discovered.
As she glanced at the darkness of the surrounding hills, she recalled the secret underground refuge where she learned to read and write. The Golden Caves were accessible by boat. Aisling’s father had discovered the isolated retreat, ideal for eluding the threats of external censure, violence, and oppression. Soon, her cousins joined in the venture. Each morning they met down by the bay and from there took a rowboat to an entrance at the base of a large hill. Hidden by swamp grass, they pushed aside the camouflage and rowed into the depths of the grotto.
The smooth, inky water rippled as they paddled through the underground. Beyond the range of daylight, candles that flickered with the soft wind guided them. After a few minutes of silent rowing, the hollow opened up to reveal ceilings more than thirty feet high, dripping with anemolites and amber icicle formations that looked like bars in a dungeon. Drawings of people, animals, and mystical creatures in shades of red and bronze on the walls were a living memory of the ancient tribes who once sought refuge there.
Aisling shivered and was transported back to reality. She entered the abbey and followed a kindly nun down the winding corridors to a small room that was to be hers.
Through her narrow window, moonlight illuminated the garden. A small fountain splashed water over the sides of the statuary. She thought of her uncle traveling overseas without her and tried to ignore the pounding in her ears.
He never even asked me what I wanted to do. I won’t be sheltered, far away from ships and distant ports. The fleet is my life now. To compound matters, the paid retainers from her estate were now taking orders from her uncle. “I need to rectify that situation,” she murmured, vowing to regain control. She blew out the candle and lay in the dark, watching the wisps of smoke evaporate into the shadows.
Sometime during the night, Aisling woke with a start and sat up in bed. She scanned the room.
All of a sudden, she froze.
Near the window was a radiant light that glistened like a luminous star. A red glow surrounded its border. Above the brilliance was an image of a young man carrying a dagger. Aisling was surprised that it looked very much like the one she just inherited.
“Hello, Aisling, my dear, do not be concerned. I’m here to help you.”
“Is this a dream or are you real?”
“I’m Chindor, a wizard who will guide you on your journey.”
“Please help me, Chindor. I must leave here, and I need my Book of Magic.”
“Just summon whatever you desire and it will appear.”
“You mean, the book will travel with me, wherever I go?”
“Yes, and you alone will be aware of its presence. Remember, though, that the power lies within you, not within the pages.”
“What do you mean?”
“The wand and the text are tools. They’ll guide your path, but you must supply the rest.”
“What about the key?”
“It’s for the most extreme circumstances. If you or others are in danger, it will summon help.”
“I need to launch my journey. How should I start?”
“To create a lasting impact, work with others, and use your mind, heart, and soul. Remember my words.” And with that, the wizard shimmered and disappeared in the shadows.
I must be dreaming, Aisling thought, but when she pinched herself, it was all too real.
The next day, Aisling wandered about the grounds. She clasped her hands in front of her when she saw guards watching from the woods. A familiar face loomed in the background. Her cousin Sean hurried down the path. He was the youngest of her relations, and the closest to her in age.
Her mind wandered back to memories of them rowing the skiff through the Golden Caves, navigating through the winding underground tunnels as the melodic sounds of rippling water echoed against the dark unknown. In their quest to seek refuge from their oppressors, they had created and shared an unwavering bond.
He drew closer. Aisling could see him fretting his lower lip.
“Hello, Aisling,” he said with arms outstretched.
She reached out to embrace him. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
“Aye, it’s great to see you too.”
“Is Uncle with you?”
“No, I’m here alone. He asked me to deliver your things.”
“Thank you for making the trip. Tell me what’s new. There’s been no word.”
“I brought your clothes and a great many books. How are you getting along here?”
Aisling noticed his downcast eyes and realized that her uncle intended to leave her at the abbey for months, perhaps even years. Her heart began to pound. She moved closer to her cousin, so the guards would not overhear their conversation. “Sean, I can’t stay here. Take me back with you.”
“That would be hard,” he muttered, glancing at the sentries. “I can’t go against Uncle. He told me you would want to come back. My instructions are to make sure that you remain.”
Aisling realized it was fruitless to argue. “How is he? Have you seen him today? Is he coming to visit me soon?” She looked at Sean and observed a shadow pass over his demeanor.
Her cousin shuffled his feet.
“Aisling, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but the fleet is leaving port earlier than expected.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why the sudden rush?” she asked, her mind searching for possible explanations.
“Uncle thinks it is better if we leave sooner, so that you won’t be dispirited for too long. I was sent here to say goodbye.”
“What about Ryen? Does he know about my plight?”
Ever since the death of her aunts, Lord Bailey had taken both nephews under his wing. From an early age, they had trained to serve as officers for Aisling. She relied on them for loyalty and support. Ryen was four years older than Sean, and a First Officer in the fleet.
“No, Uncle hasn’t told him yet. He thinks you’re at the estate.”
Aisling took a deep breath. Without the support of her cousins, there would be little chance of rectifying her situation. She needed a strategy. In an instant, she knew what was required. A plan came to her with remarkable clarity, one that would solve her problems. Everything’s changed now, she thought. This is what Chindor tried to tell me last night. I’m no longer the same Aisling who’s always worried about fitting in, even when it doesn’t suit me.The confining clothes. Downplaying my role in the company. Staying at home when I want to be elsewhere. Hiding opinions and feelings. There was a bigger world waiting for her, she realized, and she wanted to experience it all. To control her destiny and choose her own path.
“I have the ability to travel and help others in the network,” she muttered under her breath. Whatever test lies ahead, she reasoned, I can and will conquer.
As she ran her hand through her hair, she turned to Sean. “Thank you, cousin, for coming, and for bringing my trunks. I appreciate your visit and wish you a safe journey,” she said as she hugged him. “Please take care of yourself, and send my regards to Uncle.” She turned on her heels and made her way to the abbey without arousing suspicion.
Back in her room, Aisling donned her wool cloak, sturdy boots, and hat. While most of the inhabitants gathered for
breakfast, she marched down the empty hall and descended the staircase. “I can’t believe they’re planning to leave today,” she said, hugging her arms to ward off the chill.
Before exiting through a narrow side door, Aisling passed the dining hall where she noted her guards entrenched, distracted by the prospect of warm food and drink.
Outside, Aisling hurried down the stone path to the woods, casting a nervous glance behind her as she made her way to the nearby hill. She couldn’t see the ships, but the site offered a panoramic view of the adjacent mountains and bays.
From underneath her cloak, she removed her dagger. The cylinder gleamed, illuminating crystals of amber, green, red, and blue. Aisling extended both of her arms and held the instrument in front of her, parallel to the ground.
“With all my power, I command that it snow,” she intoned in a low voice.
She waited for several minutes, but the cloud formations did not alter in the slightest. She tried to remember the notes in the Annals of the Four Masters.
I believe I did this the right way, she thought. She repeated the incantation. Still, nothing changed.
She scanned the woods behind her. The guards must have noticed that I am not at breakfast. They will be looking for me now, she thought, her brow furrowed.
“What have I missed?” she whispered. Then she recalled that the words were less important than internal conviction and interpretation. Aisling stood on the cliff, her eyes closed, the dagger extended to the sky.
I can do this. I will do this, she vowed. She remembered Chindor’s insight. “I have the power,” she intoned. “With all my being, I command that it snow.”
She felt an intense energy hurl out of the instrument and into the universe. At once, she was exhausted and exhilarated. Her eyes still shut, something wet covered her hands. She looked up at the sky, and her eyes widened. The cloud formations had changed, the warmer air had risen, and nature was altering its course.
Snow was falling.
It was time to escape, and she knew where she needed to go.
Aisling ran down the mountain path. The trail would lead to her ships.
The wind turned inland and swirled toward the mountain, creating a white powder that veiled the landscape. Snow banks started to form along the ridge, making it difficult to navigate.
I must make it there in time, she thought. If my intentions are good, is it possible to use my power to clear a path in front of me so everything is more visible? With her dagger extended, she intoned her command. “I declare that a passage be free of snow.” As Aisling felt the power extend outward, the whirling flakes parted.
She raced down the hill that overlooked the quay. Several of her ships were anchored in port. Dozens of seamen were moving about on ship and land, preparing for departure. As the snow whirled about, she could see an icy powder accumulating on the decks.
Watching the crew from afar, Aisling realized that her uncle still thought of her as a child. He was convinced that she needed protection. What I want most, she thought, is his support and unconditional love. To make him understand who I am and what we need to accomplish, I must first trust him.
She shook her head and ran her fingers over her eyebrow. “But Father’s advice is different than the wizard’s,” she murmured. “If I trust no one, how can I hope to start my journey?”
As she extended the dagger, sparkling with its glittering colors of nature, Aisling called out to Maológ. The depth of her voice carried across the water. He turned around to see her standing erect on the hill, her red cape and long hair blowing in the wind.
The storm had parted to form a clear path between them both, obstructing others from their view.
I can’t just tell him who I am. I must show him.
With the dagger raised to the clouds, Aisling intoned a new decree.
“I command the water in front of the ships to freeze.”
With her eyes shut and face uplifted to the sky, she could hear the storm swirling around her. There was a large crackling sound.
Her ships weren’t going anywhere.
Aisling saw her uncle dash across the quay. As he approached, she noted his slumped shoulders. He stopped a few feet from her and looked at his niece.
“I’m sorry, Aisling,” he said. “I was wrong. I should never have presumed to know what your father wanted for you. It was unjust to keep you away from your fleet.”
“I’m sorry too, Uncle. There are many things I can’t tell you, at least not yet, but I need your support. We have to work together.”
“Aye, I see that now. What do you want to do?”
“We’re going to the East Kingdom,” she said, “and there’s not a moment to lose.”
A few days later, in March of 1772, Aisling and the fleet pulled away from the quay at Cathair na Mart, Ireland.
There were six ships in the expedition.
Aisling captained the Saoirse. With more than one hundred men onboard, it was one of the largest vessels ever built. Trading merchandise was one of its functions. Equipped with cannons, guns, and ammunition, it was capable of much more. The Saoirse contained a small army, ready to engage at any time.
Five of her other ships were in close formation. Maológ commanded the Cara. Behind his vessel were the Dublin, Galway, Honor, and Shannon.
She smiled as she looked at her muddy boots, long coat, and trousers. These are outward signs of my transformation, she thought. That was nothing, though, compared to the changes within. The men had stared as she boarded the ship in her new ensemble, grappling with the concept of a woman commander. Many sent sideward glances her way and talked to each other in whispered tones. If they knew her secrets, she was sure that caution would escalate into something more potent.
Aisling watched the families crowd the docks to shout good wishes to their departing sailors. The men waved from the deck, gazing at the faces they would miss while at sea. It would be at least eighteen months before their return. She thought about their impending voyage to a far-away kingdom. They would be thrust into a land with unknown people and dark forces. It was an exciting but terrifying prospect.
I’ll meet the challenge, she vowed, and nothing will stand in my way.
The ships navigated through the maze of sunken drumlins, jutting out from icy waters. As they passed Clare Island, the cries of the herring gulls and black guillemots resounded over the jagged, charcoal cliffs.
A thin veil of fog swirled into Clew Bay, and the ships sailed into the mist.
CHAPTER THREE
ENCOUNTER ON THE CLIFF
The prince and his men galloped across the sandy terrain and burst out of the fog layer that covered the shoreline. Ahead was the band of thieves that had robbed another warehouse of grain and food. The chase had ensued for more than twenty miles, through the underbrush of the valley forests to the pathway up the mountains.
As Drayaen gripped the reins with one hand, he withdrew his sword from its scabbard with the other. His black cape billowed behind him as his horse raced over the hard ground.
They rounded the hill, and the cliff’s edge came into view. He signaled his soldiers.
“Block their exit,” he shouted to General Neo and the troops within earshot. “They have no place to hide.”
Several riders swung around the dusty dirt enclave to box in the offenders.
“Keep them alive. We need to know who’s behind this.”
With cliffs to the left and right, the thieves had no visible means of escape.
“I am Prince Drayaen. Who do you work for? I can help you.”
The leader motioned for the rest of his brigands to dismount. At his signal, they all moved to the edge of the bluff.
“Wait! Tell me who organized this, and your lives will be spared.”
The bandits hesitated, exchanging nervous glances with each other, but General Neo charged forward with his sword drawn. In rapid succession, the thieves flung themselves off the cliff, plunging to the rocks below.
Drayae
n ran to the edge and looked down the precipice at the splayed, lifeless bodies. He spun around to face the general, his fists clenched.
“Why did you rush in? I didn’t give the order.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. It looked like they were not going to cooperate. I wanted to catch one off guard.”
“Next time, wait for my command,” he said, his piercing gaze conveying an explicit warning. He leaned forward and gritted out, “Defy me at your own peril.”
As he holstered his sword, he turned back to his men. This calls for drastic action, he thought. Each time he had come close to discovering the source of the attacks, there had been unforeseen obstacles. He motioned for his troops’ attention.
“It’s time for a new strategy. Instead of chasing the bandits after the grain is gone, we’ll catch them when they’re robbing the food supply. General Neo will make the assignments. Plan to regroup in a week. Send a message if there’s action.”
As the other men rode off, his soldiers remained.
Drayaen pushed back his long hair, which had fallen into wild disarray. “I will not be defeated,” he said, his black gaze flashing over the terrain. “This is an organized effort from someone who knows our movements. I have my suspicions but need proof. It’s time to get reinforcements.” He gestured for his soldiers to mount up and ride.
That night, Drayaen arrived at the temple. He paced in his chamber, trying to make sense of the enemy’s actions. “What are they trying to achieve?” he growled. Based on his experience as a trained soldier, he sensed there were hidden forces at work. With no answers in sight, he removed his sword and boots and attempted to get some sleep.
At some point in the night, he woke up with a start. In a vivid dream, there had been a young woman with long golden hair and eyes like emeralds. She was so close, he could almost sense her presence. They were both running, and he was holding her hand.
He sat up and rubbed his brow. He didn’t know of any such woman, and why would they be connected? I must be working too hard, he thought, as he closed his eyes and put it out of his mind.
Princess of Sky, Earth, Fire and Water Page 3
