by Kristen Cobb
Glenna glared at Rory before turning a furious gaze on her real target, a silent promise in her eyes. You have not seen the last of me.
Every instinct Nessa possessed screamed kill her as she watched Glenna walk away toward the bridge.
“You have no cause to take her life. She has not actually done anything wrong.” Rory set an arm across her shoulders. “Come, as soon as you are ready we ride to Athlone.”
Looking down at the bloody ax in her hand Nessa dropped it on the ground, thinking about the next tragedy. Tomorrow she would be forced to watch someone hack Conor’s head off. Understanding Glenna’s fury did not change the fact that Declan needed to die. At least she would be close enough to keep watch over Conri. Glenna could plot all she wanted but no one would ever harm Conri again.
11
The second worst day of her life arrived. A bright blue sky hung over them, resplendent with fluffy white clouds slowly floating by on the breeze. Birds chirped happily while the trees remained silent. They were obviously through mourning the man who would never be king, relegated to his regrettable but unavoidable fate.
Hundreds of people were gathered to watch the execution of Dermot MacMurrough’s hostages, including Tiernan O’Rourke. The king of Breifne stood with a retinue of his finest warriors, absolutely jubilant, a broad smile lighting his face.
Rory and his personal guards were stationed at the right front corner of the platform. His eyes met hers as he caught her watching him. Seated behind Will on a horse Nessa looked away. She wasted the entire morning in a vain attempt at convincing Rory to cancel the execution. Somewhere deep inside she obviously believed he might change his mind at the last moment. When he rose with the sun and began dressing to leave she panicked. No amount of pleading made any difference. Rory however, unlike Tiernan, did not appear happy about Conor’s execution. The remorse in Rory’s eyes did little to assuage the sadness burrowed deep within her.
The other two hostages taken from Dermot had already been executed. Bright red blood dripped slowly from the blade of the executioner’s battle-ax as two men carried a body off the back of the platform.
Conri led Conor out onto the wooden platform, still in chains. The laughter of one man cut through the absolute silence of the crowd, Tiernan. Head thrown back he laughed joyously at something one of his guards said. Trying to ignore him Nessa kept her gaze fixed on the platform. Conor’s eyes darted around the large crowd in horror.
Conri began talking to Conor before handing him off to the executioner. Whatever her husband said caused Conor’s focus to shift from the crowd to Conri. The two men locked gazes for a moment. Something suddenly changed for Conor. His gaze became steady and controlled as he turned toward the executioner, his stance tall and proud.
Conri turned and walked away toward the right side of the platform as Conor knelt in front of the blood soaked wooden block. Conri jumped down off the edge of the platform joining Rory’s personal guard.
Conor scanned the crowd, searching for her as he knelt in front of the executioner. Finally spotting her their eyes locked. The most intense goodbye she ever experienced caused tears to fill her eyes. Forcing them back she absolutely refused to break down now. Conor needed her to be strong in his last moments.
The executioner, a burly man with long greasy black hair, pushed Conor’s head down onto the blood soaked wooden block. Raising the battle-ax without any hesitation the man brought it down in the blink of an eye. Conor’s severed head rolled toward the edge of the platform, stopping just short of falling off. Blood began squirting from the now headless neck as it fell away from the execution block. She watched as one of Rory’s men reached up onto the platform grabbing Conor’s head by the hair.
Rory turned and looked at her. Seated on the horse with Will she could be seen above the crowd. Feeling absolutely numb at the moment she turned away. Will nudged the horse’s sides with his knees. Galloping away along the edge of the crowd she felt nothing. Perhaps that was a blessing.
She started praying lately, just like Laurence taught her while living at the monastery as a child. Kneeling on the floor next to Rory’s bed she prayed to the Christian God for the strength to stay away from Conri while in human form. The Christians believed each body had a soul that survived after death. She decided to add a prayer for Conor’s soul just in case it happened to be true.
The low humming cacophony of the crowd slowly dissipated as they rode away from the execution site. Knowing the circumstances of Conor’s death ahead of time changed nothing. She thought about Will’s statement, maybe the true purpose of her vision had been bringing her together with Conri, not saving Conor. At the moment she could not find a purpose in any of it. Both were lost to her forever.
Once they rode away from Athlone she could change into a hawk. Will promised to stop and wash her clothes before storing them in Rory’s chamber. She would not be needing them any time soon. Since Will was supposedly transporting her somewhere other than Rory’s castle he planned on staying away for a few days.
These would be her last moments as a human. A new phase of her life was about to begin. Truth be told she enjoyed being a bird. Being unable to kiss Conri or lie in his arms at night would be a painful lose to bear but at least she could still be with him. Hopefully that would be enough to sustain her through the years.
HE COULD SEE the hill in the distance, Knocknashee. Covered in green like an Irish pasture it had always been a forbidden place for him. His father knew the elders wanted his kind extinguished from the earth. Knocknashee was strictly off limits for his children. Only once had Ronan ever dared come here, twelve years old and insatiably curious about where the outcasts came from. Sneaking out after everyone went to bed he turned into a hawk and flew off his balcony, following along the Moy River until he reached the end, Knocknashee.
Upon reaching Knocknashee he turned back into human form, walking through its forested base, marveling at the differences between this place and his father’s home by the sea. It seemed hidden and mysterious, especially to a twelve-year-old boy on his first adventure. There were small stone huts scattered here and there.
Ronan knew from his father’s stories that the shifters did, at one time, live on top of the hill. They moved to the forest below in an attempt to hide their presence from the mortals. The encroachment of Christianity on traditional Irish culture posed a danger to their very survival. No longer were the Irish allowed to worship the earth and all that sprang from it. Druids were outlawed by this new religion, persecuted to the point of extinction. The shifters tried to remain hidden within this small forest now, only taking human form when necessary.
The instant he spotted a human Ronan turned back into a hawk and headed home, remembering the stories his father told him of the violent people that lived here. His father relayed tales of how the elders murdered the other ancients and their bonded mates.
By the time Ronan returned home he had been gone almost two full days. Not being much of a liar he immediately revealed the details surrounding his adventure. His father, understandably furious, began yelling about being foolish and reckless.
Older now Ronan felt saddened by the entire situation rather than fearful. The shifters were taught the outcasts, ancients, and mortals were all violent and not to be trusted. He had been taught the same thing about the shifters.
The truth likely lie somewhere in the middle. There were violent, hateful people on both sides. Ronan had yet to meet a shifter he would trust or respect but refused to rule out the possibility there were some honorable, open-minded folk among them. Conri’s mother did not appear to be a horrid person but she allowed her son to be cast out as a child without so much as a passing concern for his welfare. He would never be able to respect her. Her attempt to make amends came far too late as far as he could tell. Etain’s callous treatment irreparably damaged his brother.
It seemed highly unlikely he would win over any of the shifters on this particular visit. His presence here today had only o
ne purpose, to deliver Declan’s head with a warning, stay away from his brother. Nessa originally intended to come herself. Considering his sister-in-law’s goal, making everyone believe she no longer loved Conri, Ronan convinced her it might be best if he deliver the head.
Her love for his brother shone through clearly when she talked about him or looked at him. The fact that Conri could not see it was beyond baffling. The woman literally left scorched earth in her wake on a rampage to avenge and protect him yet somehow Conri believed this ridiculous story that Nessa loved his best friend. Ronan had no doubt the shifters would see right through her flimsy plan were she here. Nessa’s intentions were good but she would not be able to hide her adoration for his brother. Although not nearly as terrifying as his brother’s wife Ronan was determined to make these people fear his wrath.
Just thinking about Nessa’s execution of Declan made him shiver with fear. He fully understood her anger but that did not make the event any less disturbing to watch. Whoever set this entire plan in motion should be praying to any god that would listen, hoping Nessa never learned of their involvement. He predicted a bit of fire and dismemberment in the culprit’s future if Declan’s accomplice were revealed. Nessa’s fury would know no limits. One thing they knew for certain, the information reached Declan’s ears from someone here at Knocknashee.
Leading his horse through the trees toward the head of the river he could feel their eyes on him. A raven cawed loudly, most likely announcing his presence to the others. Ronan could not see them but he knew they were there. Every crunch and crackle as his horse’s hooves disturbed the fallen leaves and branches littering the forest floor announced his presence.
Nessa instructed him to wait at the base of the hill where the river emerged. Her directions were very specific. He was to set Declan’s head on the boulder by the river then wait until the shifters came to him before delivering her warning. Ronan had no intention of telling them the threat came from Nessa. He intended to take full credit for her wrath. No longer would these people terrorize his family.
Finding the exact spot Nessa described Ronan stopped his horse and dismounted. Pulling Declan’s head out of the sac by its hair he set it on the large boulder then sat himself down next to it.
“Well old boy, how did this turn out for you?” Ronan peered at the head as if expecting an answer. “Not so well you say. Hmm, I would tend to agree.”
A raven and a jay flew by, silently landing in a nearby tree, watching him with obvious interest.
“Who can ignore a man sitting on a rock with a severed human head?” He looked down at the head as if speaking to it. “No one I tell you.”
A few more birds landed in trees within sight of where he sat. He noticed a hawk, a wren, and some kind of small black and grey bird. All shifters too frightened to show themselves but too curious to stay away. Ronan wondered if the wren were Glenna. Had they allowed her to return and live as part of their society again? Nessa thought there was a chance Glenna might have been in on the plot with Declan all along, that the petite shifter was not the innocent everyone believed her to be.
The leaves on all of the trees gently rustled at the same time as a light breeze blew through. It would be such a peaceful place to spend an afternoon if not for the extraordinarily unpleasant beings populating this haven. Ronan almost closed his eyes at the sound of the leaves singing softly on the wind. A single shaft of sunlight suddenly burst through the canopy of newly born spring leaves to shine directly on him, and Declan’s head of course.
Ronan smiled as he realized the reason Nessa chose this spot. “Oh, why not come out and play!” He shouted the invitation up at the trees.
Finally he watched five men walking through the poorly lit forest toward him, fully dressed in plain brown garb except for the fact they wore no shoes. Ronan could feel the anger swell inside of him. These were the people who cast out his brother then sent Declan to torment him. At the moment he could understand Nessa’s tendency toward extreme violence. For decades his father cared for the children they deemed defective. It seemed long past time someone stood up to them. On this particular subject Ronan tended to side with Nessa, no mercy.
As they moved closer he could clearly see they were all older men. No doubt these were the elders. Five men who made all of the rules for the shifters. He could not help wondering how the others felt about casting out their children. Had anyone ever attempted to change the rules? Did anyone even care?
“Who are you and what do you want?” One man stepped forward, clearly the highest-ranking elder. His dark brown hair was rather long and beginning to grey at the edges. Tall and thin with severe facial features, a long beard peppered with a sprinkle of grey reached the middle of his chest.
“Well this is Declan.” Ronan motioned gracefully toward the head with a flourish. “And I am Ronan.” He stood up, drawing his sword from its sheath just in case anyone felt brave.
“That does not really answer either one of my questions now does it?” Nessa’s description of the old man’s condescending demeanor could not have been more accurate.
“Ah, you must be Ciaran, my brother’s grandfather. I would say it is a pleasure to meet you but that would be a lie and my father taught me never to lie.” Not entirely true but he simply could not resist revealing the identity of his father.
“Your brother?” Ciaran stepped a bit closer, looking intently at his face. “Kaelan is your father?”
“He is.”
“And your mother?” Ciaran’s gaze was intense, as if the answer mattered a great deal.
“A mortal who worked as a servant at my father’s home. She died in childbirth. As to why I am here, well, that is simple.” Ronan glanced back and forth across the immediate area a couple of times before continuing. More animals were gathered now. He even spotted a deer and a wolf standing next to each other in the shadows. “Declan decided to kidnap my brother in an attempt to force Nessa to bond with him. Now, how would Declan even have known about Nessa being one of the ancients?” Ronan peered down at Declan’s head with a sidelong glance as if it spoke to him. “An excellent question, would you not agree?”
“You are clearly out of your mind. I suggest you leave and take the head with you.” Ciaran began to turn around as if intending to completely dismiss him as irrelevant then apparently changed his mind. “Your father lied to you about your mother. She did not die in childbirth. Her name was Fiona. I would know those eyes anywhere.” Ciaran actually appeared sad as he spoke of her.
Although rattled to his very core by Ciaran’s words Ronan refused to show any weakness at all in front of this man. He certainly would not believe anything Conri’s grandfather said over his own father. “I will leave when I have had my say and not a moment before. The head however is staying. A gift, from my family to yours.” Out of the corner of his eye Ronan spotted a woman running toward him.
“No! They killed my son.” The woman ran straight for Declan’s head. Grabbing the ever so slightly decomposing severed head off the boulder she cradled it in her arms. There were no tears in her eyes, just a horrified wide-eyed stare.
“A violent outcast. He died the way he lived.” Ciaran’s voice held no empathy whatsoever for the grieving mother. Apparently he cared not one little bit for the children he discarded.
Ronan suddenly noticed naked human beings standing in the shadows of the trees. They seemed to blend in effortlessly with the forest, becoming almost invisible. A skill no doubt learned hiding from the mortal world for centuries. His father considered it counterproductive to hide. He believed working with the mortals provided the only way forward for his people.
Ronan could not exclusively blame Ciaran or Declan’s mother for Conri’s kidnapping. All of the shifters at Knocknashee should bear the shame for this tragic outcome. “Declan became violent because you made him that way. A child chained to a tree every night by his own mother to make him change form. A skill he did not possess. Not one of you ever attempted to help him. After
that he is cast out into the world alone at the ripe old age of ten because he is not a shifter. Still, no one cared. He kidnapped and tortured my brother in an attempt to force Nessa to bond with him. The inspiration for that plan could only have come from one of you. Declan may have been pure evil but he was not born that way. He was created, by you.” Ronan allowed his gaze to travel across the expanse of forest in front of him, meeting as many eyes as possible with his angry glare.
“Where is the rest of my son’s body?” Declan’s mother resembled him a great deal, the dark black hair and deep blue eyes nearly identical.
“An excellent question. Now let me see. I believe his right arm was sent to Ulster, the left remained in Connaught. His right leg I sent to Leinster, his left leg to Munster. The rest of his body we fed to the fish. No amount of magic will heal your son’s body. Let that be a lesson to all of you. Attempt to hurt my brother, or anyone else in my family, and I will rain down fury upon this place the likes of which you cannot even imagine. There will be nowhere you can hide from my wrath.”
“Where is my grandson’s wife? Why is she not here waggling her finger raining down fury if we are so guilty?” The smirk on Ciaran’s face set Ronan’s teeth to gnashing with annoyance.
This facet of Nessa’s plan truly bothered him, a deeply abhorrent insult to his brother. Ronan could not fault her reasoning but that in no way made it less offensive. “Nessa has decided it is beneath her to be with an outcast. She wants nothing more to do with my brother.” If he were forced to spend even one more moment in Ciaran’s presence he might do the man physical harm.
Ronan walked over to his horse. Leaning close to the animal he gently pat his flank, whispering in his ear. “Time to leave my friend.” Mounting quickly Ronan squeezed the animal’s sides with his knees, sending him nearly flying through the trees. Even his horse seemed eager to leave. What a beautiful place to be so filled with hate. Ciaran’s words still rang in his head refusing to be banished, your father lied to you about your mother.
