by Mary Morgan
Standing, Liam stared into the face of fury. He dared not speak another word, but it was within his rights. “Will you not hear my account?”
“When my daughter is dying in the next chamber? I think not! You have brought dishonor to the Brotherhood and your family.”
Liam staggered from the intensity of the king’s words. Yet he was only honor-bound to one in his heart. Turmoil fought with duty to the Fae king. Liam had no more to lose. He only prayed the king would not strike him dead with what he was about to pronounce. “I would appreciate if I am alerted of Abela’s condition.”
“How dare you!” The king glared at him with disdain. “She is a priestess!”
“And my wife.”
The blow of the king’s power lifted Liam, and he struggled for air. Lights flashed before his eyes. The king’s wrath swirled in a tempest around him, and the pressure built within his mind and body.
“I forbid you to utter her name. Furthermore, all power as a Fenian Warrior has been stripped from you,” uttered King Ansgar with deadly calm. He released his powerful hold and Liam collapsed to the floor.
“Remove this Fae to his prison,” demanded the king as he stormed away.
Liam fought for air as two of the guards approached. They gave him no time to stand, before whisking him away.
Once inside the Room of Reflection, they tossed him onto the floor and slammed the door. Liam sat and rubbed at his eyes vigorously, taking in deep calming breaths. Weakened from being stripped of his Fenian powers, he remained seated on the floor of his prison. As Liam glanced around his crystal enclosure, he sought out the corner where Abela had first approached him. His heart constricted, longing to see her once again step through the shadows.
He gazed upward at the night sky.
“My beloved, my life. Do not cross over to Tir na Og. Remember our love and fight. You are my warrior, my princess, my wife. There is no purpose without you. Do not leave me to a future that does not have you by my side.”
Placing his palms on the ground on either side of his body, Liam closed his eyes. “Do not forget your daughter, Mother Danu. Keep her from passing over. If she goes into the Summerland, your warrior shall follow.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“During great times of sorrow in my life after Liam entered the Brotherhood, I sought out the music of the butterflies.”
~Diary of Princess Abela
Why did walking this path take forever to reach the golden sunlight? Abela grew weary with each step forward. She paused on her journey and dug her toes into the moss-covered ground. The dew tickled her feet, and she laughed. Her voice reminded her of tinkling bells, so she laughed again. Cupping a hand over her mouth to squelch the gaiety, she glanced around and noted a rose-quartz bench.
A brief respite on her journey was what she required. Crossing the path dotted with flower petals, she wandered over to the beautifully carved bench and sat down. Her hand caressed the Celtic knots on the wood as she tried to recall where she had witnessed seeing them before. Were they adorned on a wall? Or a person? Her recollection was vague. Fog surrounded her memory, and she tapped her fingers to her temple to jog some fragmented image. It was a futile endeavor, doing nothing to restore what refused to be awakened within her mind.
Abela tucked her feet under her on the bench, and watched the branches of the trees sway with the warm gentle breeze. Roses, lilacs, and honeysuckle fought for space between the massive oak trees, and she marveled at their beauty. Inhaling deeply, she nearly swooned from their heady floral aroma, even as it soothed and caressed her mind.
The pulsing golden light beckoned her once again. She knew there was something magical beyond the radiance, but she was not ready to continue onward. This place was one of beauty. Were there others? She looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of another Fae, bird, or animal. Yet, none announced themselves.
“Perchance this is my own realm and path,” she whispered.
Her voice was one filled with melody, and she pondered why it sounded unique here.
She cast her sight again to the carved etchings in the bench. Taking her finger, she traced the pattern in a continuous motion. However, the effort tired her quickly, and her head pounded from the struggle to recall anything.
A whisper of words floated to her, and Abela snapped her head up, searching in all directions. Removing herself from the bench, she studied the landscape in the opposite direction of the golden light. Nothing but shadows greeted her.
“Is someone there?” She stood on tiptoe, trying to discern any images.
She blew out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing but emptiness. She heard the words again, and this time they wove a thread of familiarity inside her mind. “I am here. Can you not speak more clearly? I am having trouble hearing your words.”
Biting her lip, she almost started toward the bleak abyss until pain seared into her body. Fear halted her progress, and she hugged her arms around her body. She had no wish to return to the agonizing assault she had suffered earlier. This is why she left the darkness of pain and took to the path of radiance.
“I cannot go back.” Placing her hands over her ears, she whimpered. “Please stop speaking to me. I must find peace and you won’t permit me to go. There is so much pain and suffering.”
Tears smarted her eyes, and Abela turned toward the warmth of the light. The darkness was not a part of her future. The glowing path of bliss urged her forward. But with each step, the tears began to flow down her cheeks, and Abela was helpless to control them. Instead of happiness, sorrow engulfed her.
Nevertheless, she had sought this journey, and she refused to turn back. Peace from pain lured her to its warm embrace of light. If only she felt comforted by the thought.
When she finally approached the golden archway, shimmering lights danced all around the entrance. Once again, the words of someone speaking to her floated on a breeze, and she took a hesitant step back. A sliver of light teased her along the path.
“Am I ready to enter? Is this Tir na Og, the land of forever?”
Abela dropped to the ground, confused and wary. There was something she forgot to do from long ago. It niggled in the back recess of her mind. Her hands trembled as she placed them on the lush grass. Instinctively, she reached out with her thoughts to another she had long forgotten.
“Forgive me, Mother Danu.”
“For what, my child?”
Startled, Abela drew back her hands. “You can hear me,” she uttered on a choked sob.
“I have always heard you, sweet daughter.”
Abela rubbed a hand over her brow. “I sense I have been trying to speak with you, but without any success.”
“Your guilt has shut me out, daughter.”
She tucked her legs under her. “Guilt? What did I do to cause such a grievance?”
“Touch the strand of light, daughter.”
Abela lifted her hand. “I am scared.”
“Truth, beauty, and love should never be feared. You saw the beauty in love, but feared in speaking your heart’s truth to me. That is where your fear has taken root. That is where the wall was built with guilt around your heart, mind, and spirit. You kept me out, unable to hear my words. If you refuse to touch the light, you have chosen poorly and will walk alone.”
“But I am alone.”
“I am here within the light and speaking to you.”
“If I know the truth, will I return to the darkness?”
“The pathway is always a choice in directions. Light cannot exist without the dark. The sun cannot rise without the moon slipping into the shadows. Each a reminder of the other in the cosmos.”
Stretching her fingers toward the sliver of light, Abela watched the radiance travel upward through her arm and pierced into her heart with blazing heat. She gasped, but kept her hand within the glow. Images swirled in a kaleidoscope of various colors inside her mind, some foreign to her, and others significant.
When one emerged, steady and strong, her l
ips trembled. “Liam.” Abela lowered her head. “I was afraid to tell you, Mother Danu, for fear you would not be happy or allow me to leave the temple.”
“Love is a precious gem, daughter. All you had to do was ask me. Instead of tears of happiness for you, I wept in sorrow.”
****
Liam paced within his prison, endeavoring to remain calm. The long night slipped silently away and by dawn, there still remained no word on Abela’s condition. Not one soul had visited him, and his worry increased with each passing hour. When the sun reached its zenith in the sky, he shouted his frustration and slammed the wall with his fists.
Hours later, he penned a missive. In it, he gave instructions to his brother, Rory, if she should live and he was sentenced to death. He gave no care about his own existence, save hers. His predicament was already doomed. In addition, he stated that the documents he had procured from King MacAlpin and Angus MacKay remained in Conn’s chambers. Regardless, without the third one from Peter O’Malley, the king would never agree to hearing a plea. Therefore, he asked if Rory could return the two documents to their owners.
He halted and laughed bitterly. “You certainly would not consider listening to me now that you know about your daughter and me.”
The walls became too confining as he observed the last rays of sunlight slipping into darkness. Liam stormed back to his desk. Bracing his hands on the wood, he tried to calm his breathing. How could he endure another day without any information on his beloved? He placed the heel of his palm over his heart, trying to ease the ache.
“Give me any news,” he pleaded. “Even from you, Mother Danu.”
He shook his head in irritation. “All I did was love her.”
Taking a seat once again at his desk, he pulled forth another piece of parchment and quill. Liam had to remain steadfast in his belief Abela would survive. When she did recover, he had to reassure her to keep moving forward with her life. His hand shook as he formed the words on the sheet.
~My beloved wife,
Sadly, I have come to the crossroads once again in my life where I am without you. Regardless of our brief time together as husband and wife, our love will last until the last star fades from the cosmos. I have loved you since I drew your breath into my body after our first kiss. When I entered the Brotherhood, I hardened my heart and locked away our memories from the beginning. However, I was the fool. Time could not erase what you etched upon my soul. You have brought light into my life, and when I take my last breath, your name shall be on my lips. Keep my love wrapped around you during the dark days of despair you shall feel after I am gone.
Continue on your path, mo ghrá. Do not forget joy, laughter, knowledge, or love. I shall await you at the gates of Tir na Og.
Yours forever, heart to soul,
Liam~
Blowing a kiss over the words to bind their meaning, he reached for an envelope and tucked the parchment inside. Scribbling her name on the outside, he tucked it with the others for his brother.
The silence and solitude were chains around his heart, and Liam stood. Crossing the room, he went to the place Abela had first entered and sat down on the cold floor. There was nothing left for him to do. He hugged his knees to his chest and lowered his head. No comfort would he seek. No food or drink would he partake. No sleep would he obtain.
As Liam fought the tide of emotions, a stirring of another Fae entered his prison, and he lifted his head.
Rory stood leaning against the crystal wall. A look of utter misery was carved across his features.
“Tell me,” ordered Liam in a low voice.
“I am sorry.”
Liam stood abruptly and clenched his fists. “Tell me!”
His brother pushed away from the wall. “King Ansgar removed Abela from Conn’s chambers and took her to the temple. The priestesses placed her in the cavern that leads to—”
“Tir na Og.” Liam staggered. His heart pounded inside his chest, and the room blurred. “No, no!”
“I am sorry, brother.”
He pointed a warning finger at Rory. “Don’t you dare say the word.”
“Abela is dead.”
Liam’s wave of despair waxed so deep, his anguished soul cried out for death and release. Letting out a guttural cry of sorrow, he ran to his desk, lifted it high, and tossed it across the room. It smashed in two, leaving a mess of strewn paperwork littered across the floor. His tormented soul could do nothing, as he continued to pitch anything in his path outward.
“She was mine!” he roared. “My death was ordained, not hers!”
Waves of pain coursed throughout his body, unable to fathom his beloved was gone. When he had hurled everything onto the floor, he ripped his tunic free from his body. He refused to utter the word of her demise.
His steps faltered as he went to the center of his prison and gazed upward, tears streaming down his face. His grief was akin to a blade through his heart, and he longed to rip it free from his chest.
Lifting his hands, he poured out his emotions. “Abela, do not enter the boat to Tir na Og. Do you hear me? I order you to stay at the gates! Return to me. Return to love.” He wiped a hand over his face. “You have only begun to live. Choose life!”
Liam fisted his hands at his side, keeping his back to his brother. “Let me out of the chamber.”
“You know I cannot.”
He turned abruptly. “I have to see her. She is not listening to me in here.”
Rory frowned in obvious confusion. “Liam…she is gone.”
Liam crossed the room in two strides and yanked on Rory’s tunic, shaking him. “Unless I see it for my own eyes, I refuse to believe your words.”
His brother placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Your pain is clouding you to the truth.”
“Have you seen her? How do you know?” snapped Liam, shirking free from his hold. He found it difficult to draw in any breath, and he staggered back.
“The news comes from Conn through the king,” answered Rory in a somber tone.
“But you must understand why I must see her,” he pleaded. What if it was Erina?”
Rory’s eyes flashed in anger. “Since I have yet to give you my account, be careful the words you spout. I have witnessed the death of my wife. The first time was in 1605 when she was burnt at the stake. I can still recall the stench of her burning flesh.”
His brother’s declaration was like a blow to his body, and Liam’s shoulders sagged with the weight of everything. “Forgive me,” he whispered and trudged to the other side of the room. Slumping down against the crystal wall, he leveled his arms on his bent knees.
Rory joined him on the other side. “I first met Erina on a mission and fell in love. I was unable to save her from death the first time. When I returned to the Brotherhood, I kept all knowledge of what had occurred inside me, locked away.” He let out a sigh and continued, “During my time in my Room of Reflection, I began to dream.”
“We are unable to dream,” countered Liam.
“Yes, but my soul was so tortured by her death that being in solitude exposed the veil of reality. I came close to entering the Realm of Sorrows.”
Liam glanced in horror at his brother. “It is a wonder you are here today.”
“Death was my path, until Conn sent me back to close the wounds left open by her death.”
“Bastard!”
Rory lifted his hand to halt any further comments. “My sentiments at the time as well. Nevertheless, his plan succeeded with the help of an alternate element in the timeline that neither he nor myself had any knowledge of. In addition, Conn has had to travel his own quest. His was arduous, too.”
“So I am the last,” muttered Liam. He gazed upward.
“I’ve often pondered why the council took so long after Aidan’s death to bring you to trial. Why did they choose now, especially after the battle we fought with the Dragon Knights? You should have been brought before the members long ago.”
Liam lowered his head. “I can only
surmise they had no idea what to do with me, or they waited for the opportunity to skewer three great Fenian Warriors at once. After Aileen released Aidan’s ashes, along with her mother’s in Loch Ness, I waited for a summons from the council. There was none.” He sighed. “Perhaps if they had done so immediately, Ab…the princess would still be alive.”
His brother nudged him. “I deem Abela would have attempted the rescue, regardless of the timing of your trial. She truly loved you, Liam. I have some other information to impart. Your trial is in the morning.”
Closing his eyes, he muttered, “Finally.” Exhaustion settled over Liam with the news. “Tell me how you overcame the shadows and rescued Erina.”
In accordance of his brother’s request, Rory spent the next hour giving him a detailed account of everything that had occurred. From almost losing Erina to the stake again, the birth of their daughter without his knowledge, and his quest to find himself on a walking journey in the Fae kingdom that led him to their parents’ home.
Liam glanced sideways at his brother. “I am happy for you.”
“I will fight for you at the council, along with all the Brotherhood,” Rory avowed.
He arched a brow skeptically. “Even our prince?”
Rory sneered. “We have a traitor within and he will be exposed. Only Conn and Taran know his name.”
Nodding slowly, Liam knew his time was ending. It no longer mattered to him. The others in the Brotherhood would seek vengeance for him. “Grant me a favor.”
Standing, Rory asked, “If it is within my power.”
“Use my sword to carve out the heart of the traitor.”
“Done.” In a flash of light, his brother vanished.
The cold blade of pain seared into his heart again, leaving Liam without breath and he lowered his head, letting the tears fall freely. Wait for me at the gates, Abela. We shall both travel on the boat to Tir na Og. I am coming soon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Of all the lessons in my life, Abela’s gift of love was the most valuable.”
~Chronicles of Liam MacGregor
As he waited by the gilded doors leading into the chambers of the council, Liam brushed his fingers along the etchings on his armband. Words from long ago echoed within his mind. His father had spoken them to Liam and Rory before he presented the family heirlooms—one for each of them.
