The Chieftain's Daughter

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “And do you simply declare that now because Alainn is near death, in hopes to make amends and to end the curse, or do you actually believe it within your heart?” Killian cynically quizzed.

  “No, Killian I do believe it, without question.”

  “And if she dies, how can you possibly prove you have accepted her as nobility?” The girl’s mother posed.

  The man’s face, already serious, became more solemn as he considered it.

  “She will be laid in our family graveyard. She shall have a high-cross as grand as that of my father or any other noble chieftain, and shall rest near the graves of my own children.”

  “And do you think your priest would truly allow her to be lain on sacred ground when he believes her to be evil?” Killian’s tone still held unmasked contempt for his uncle.

  “My priest is dead.”

  The two people looked at him with identical expressions of disbelief.

  “He was duly killed by my captain and the young druid for they learned it was he who shot the poison dart at your wife, Killian!”

  “How would a priest know of such poisons?” Mara snapped.

  “I am not certain; it is supposed he did not act alone! He was found with the poisoned darts in his possession and he fully admitted he committed the act toward your daughter.”

  “I hope he did not die a swift or painless death!” Killian commented in voice that seethed with the bitter agony he felt at the moment.

  The chieftain did not respond, but turned to leave. Mara called after him. He stopped and she held a paper toward him. He did not seem to understand the meaning.

  “I found it within my daughter’s pocket. I cannot read, save a few words, but I recognize my husband’s handwriting for he had begun to teach me to read and write. I believe it is a letter written to your priest by my husband. Though why my daughter had it in her possession or why your priest would keep it for such a lengthy time, I cannot say. You must tell me what it says.”

  The man looked doubtful about reading it to the woman as he scanned the words.

  “Do as she says uncle, but before you do you must tell me what plans you have for Mara...after...after this day?” Killian needed to know.

  “She will be safe, I assure you, no harm will befall her and she will be forgiven and allowed to stay here in the village if she so desires. The old farrier has apparently told the village priest he wishes for Mara to claim his cottage when he is gone. He said it would be in appreciation for Mara raising his son and keeping her part of their bargain when he could not. By all accounts the farrier’s time is apparently not long. My physician met with him only yesterday and his condition has become most serious. He is not expected to live but days at the longest. But Mara will have a home in which to dwell. I will not challenge the old farrier in his wish to bequeath his cottage and what worldly possessions he owns to your wife’s mother.”

  Seemingly satisfied with the man’s answer, he nodded toward the paper and for the man to read it to the woman. He did as instructed and when he was done, Mara’s eyes had filled with tears again.

  “Oh, Teige, what happiness we might have known if we’d been allowed a life together. What happiness all here might have known!”

  “I will speak to my brothers, though I well know they will side with me, they shall come to know your daughter is of noble blood, and a descendant to the O’Rorke.”

  “Then the curse will be no more!” she whispered to herself in a voice filled with bittersweet finality.

  Killian felt the weight of his sorrow and of the day’s events upon him. His arms ached with even Alainn’s slight weight. He gently lay her back down upon the pillow and covered her with the many bedclothes. Then even in plain view of the others, he painfully pulled himself upon the bed and lie down next to her. He took her in his arms and soon fell into a sleep born of exhaustion.

  The chieftain looked down upon the sorrowful sight and felt an immense lump form in his throat. He was as much to blame for these young people’s woes as his priest. If he’d not attempted to harm her, not kept the two of them apart and been so adamant they would never be together, the challenge would never have been forced. The two of them would surely be together by now, off to Killian’s castle, living out their lives in contented happiness. He turned and sadly left them alone, but for the witch.

  Mara watched him leave and for the first time in nearly two decades, she felt no intense hatred for the man, or even for his father who had caused such anguish for her. She looked morosely down upon her daughter and her young husband and left the two alone.

  Alone, she had brought the child into this world, but her husband would have the honor of being with Alainn when she left it. Mara wasn’t certain she could watch her only child take her last breath. She slowly walked across the room with the intent of looking one more time through what potions Alainn had stored within her cupboard, and to dwell on what else might be done to ensure she did not die, though Mara held little hope.

  The two slept, both presented with unusual dreams. Alainn felt herself floating amongst the clouds, as she stared toward the brightly lit tunnel before her and listened to the angelic music that peacefully surrounded her. It called to her and she felt her weightless body drifting to the beyond. She longed to enter. She saw the spirit of Morag hovering near the entrance to the tunnel, but she was not welcoming her, she was clearly demanding Alainn steer clear of the light. And she heard Danhoul’s voice insisting she fight to live and to remember. She felt Killian’s warmth beside her and heard his heartbeat. She resisted the temptation of the heavenly light and suddenly remained intent on a distant memory.

  She could clearly see a vision of Morag sitting with her when she was a very young child, so young she still possessed fine, baby-soft pale golden hair. They sat together in the herb garden, and Morag dug a deep hole and placed an object within. The child with bright blue eyes crawled toward the small opening and watched on intently as she touched the herbs that so abundantly grew in that location.

  “One day this memory will come back to you when you need it most, caileag leanabh,” Morag whispered.... “Remember this day, remember... the belladonna...never entirely forget the belladonna!”

  Still in her dreamlike state, Alainn’s memories darted to the many times she and Morag were in the herb garden together and Morag seemed to often make it a habit to mention belladonna. Alainn recalled the latest time another day perhaps only two years previous when she and Morag had once more been in the herb garden together. She remembered the conversation they’d had.

  “The herbs have wintered well, caileag. Most especially the belladonna, it has flourished most assuredly.”

  “Why do you choose to refer to it by belladonna, I much prefer to call it by evening nightshade, it has a much more romantic sound to it, don’t you think, Morag?”

  “Sure, there’s nothin’ romantic or fanciful about a deadly poison, caileag, and you know it well enough.”

  “Aye,” she’d agreed, yet she clearly remembered feeling wounded by Morag’s harsh words. Although the old healer had never been a gentle sort, she’d not often spoke to Alainn in such a cutting tone.

  “Remember the belladonna, caileag!” She’d repeated and Alainn could hear the old healer saying it over and over in her mind, repeating it so often, Alainn felt displeased by the very sound of it.

  Alainn thought to waken and alert someone to what Morag had told her for she sensed it was clearly of great importance, but she was far too weary, and much too cold. The pain in her belly had waned and she felt the warmth of Killian lying beside her, she felt his arms holding her. She would continue to sleep now... just for awhile longer!

  Killian’s own dreams were filled with much confusion. He dreamt of Aine and Lugh, the two gods he had seen in the fairy glade, but the young druid, Danhoul, had been there as well. Throughout this peculiarly distorted dream, even without being capable of actually hearing the words of their discussion and in knowing it must be a dream, he se
nsed most assuredly that this unusual young druid appeared to harbor deep feelings for Alainn, or eventually would, and that somehow he was an intricate part of ensuring Alainn did not meet with death. It was all entirely muddled and nearly nonsensical, as if he saw and heard them through the thickness of a suffocating fog.

  He felt himself being pulled from the dream like state to a sound beside him. He was almost certain he had heard Alainn speak, only softly in her sleep, but he was sure she had spoken. He listened for any sound that might prove him correct. When he had begun to believe he had only imagined it, he heard her soft voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Morag, why did you place it beneath the evening nightshade; why ever did you choose the belladonna? ‘Sure, ’tis a most powerful poison if you’ve not developed a magical immunity to it!”

  Killian sat straight up in bed. Alainn truly had uttered words. Surely she couldn’t be near death if she was able to speak. His eyes skirted the room in attempt to locate Mara. She was no longer there. He must find her and tell her the words, Alainn had revealed, but he wouldn’t leave her here alone. He painfully attempted to drag himself from the bed, all the while wishing he had Alainn’s power of telepathy so he might send a message to someone.

  In his weakened and painful condition, he wasn’t certain he could make it to the corridor. He mustered what strength he could and called out raspily. The door opened almost immediately and Niall O’Rorke and Lady Siobhan entered the chamber with both Rory and Riley close behind, and Mary as well. All wore a look of dread, for clearly they believed Killian needed to convey the message that Alainn had succumbed to the poison and died. Yet, the urgency in his voice seemed to imply otherwise.

  “Where is Mara?” Killian asked hurriedly.

  “She is off to the herb chamber.” Mary offered.

  “You must find her and tell her this message. I am not remotely certain what significance it holds, but you must tell her something lies beneath the belladonna. The belladonna is important somehow as is magical immunity!”

  “What are you talking about, Killian?” Riley asked.

  “Did Alainn speak?” Rory questioned disbelievingly.

  “Is she awake?” Niall asked with a hint of hope seeping into his weary voice.

  Lady Siobhan approached Alainn to see for herself, but was further saddened to see the girl seemed to have not stirred from when last she’d looked in on her.

  Killian’s remained in a weakened condition himself and he felt himself growing ever frustrated and angry that no one seemed to be complying with what he’d asked, but then he noticed Mary met his eyes knowingly and she hurried down the corridor. He believed somehow she would find Mara. Riley followed her, and Killian once more succumbed to his exhaustion and weakness and lay back upon the bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Killian felt someone gruffly shaking him and he could scarcely pull himself from his deep sleep. He reasoned a part of him truly never wanted to wake up. He finally forced himself to be roused and he saw it was Mara who shook him roughly.

  “Killian, you must awaken, for you have a most grave decision to make?”

  “What is it?” Killian asked and he glanced down at Alainn, guilt-ridden that he had fallen asleep again when he wanted to spend every moment he could with her. He looked at her pale complexion and could not clearly comprehend Mara’s words.

  “Killian!” She shook him again, this time even more roughly and less patiently.

  Niall stood beside the bed as well and he stared down at Killian and Alainn.

  His voice was gentle as he spoke. “As my granddaughter’s husband, it shall be left up to you to make this enormous decision, Killian. Her mother and the young druid have done all they can to heal her. Your Aunt Siobhan and I have called upon our own druid abilities in hope of a desirable outcome, but to no avail, now it is your decision to make.”

  “What decision?” Killian finally seemed to understand and his eyes registered clarity.

  “Mary told me the message regarding the belladonna.” Mara elaborated.

  “What is belladonna; Alainn mentioned something about a poison?”

  “Aye, it is a deadly poison and is usually referred to as evening nightshade, but Morag always called it belladonna, as it is another name for it. Usually only a tiny amount of it can cause death, or worse.”

  “Worse?” Killian asked.

  “Aye, irreversible madness!”

  “What are you askin’ me, then?”

  “Mary insists that Alainn is immune to it. She says she handles it without benefit of covering. If that be truth then perhaps we can use it to fight back the henbane. It is probably the only poison stronger than the one that already has pulsed through her body.”

  “Then surely you must give it to her, Mara. If she has no hope without it then, aye, you must give it to her!”

  “All my attempts to heal Alainn by way of my magic have failed so I fear it is the course that must be taken!”

  “I concur!” Niall nodded his head at Killian.

  “Then do it, Mara, and make haste!”

  Mara stood with the elixir in her hand, but looked at Killian with a morose seriousness.

  “If Alainn lives through this; if this poison truly aids her, it will most certainly kill the child!”

  “By God’s nails!” Killian loudly exclaimed at the enormity of all they were facing. “But if Alainn dies our child is lost at any rate... so we’ve truly no choice. You must do whatever you can to save her.”

  “And will you tell her of this if she lives and the child is lost?”

  “I suspect she will know!”

  “Aye!” the woman simply said as she slowly began trickling small amounts of the concoction onto her daughter’s lips as she gently opened her mouth. All the while she spoke in words that Killian did not comprehend, but he knew without question Mara was employing her magic along with her potion. At that very moment an unusual wind blew through the arched window. The candles flickered and rose, the bed shook ever so slightly and a soft glow filled the room.

  “How do you know when she has had enough?” Killian asked, knowing full well something supernatural was happening surely by way of Mara’s magic. He dared to allow himself to feel a degree of hope.

  “I don’t!” Mara admitted truthfully. “I am only hoping it is enough, but not too much!”

  “And did you find something of noteworthiness hidden beneath the belladonna?” Killian finally remembered the words Alainn had spoken.

  Mara placed her hand within the pocket of her frock and pulled out a round silver adornment.

  “ ’Tis the missing portion of my husband’s amulet. Morag must have buried it there to ensure no one would be capable of locating it. I suppose she didn’t trust my protection spell would hold until Alainn found it in the dungeon. She buried it beneath the belladonna knowing no one could touch it and live to tell of it, and she must have had Alainn handle the belladonna through the years. There is now no doubt Alainn is an O’Rorke for it fits perfectly with the other half of the amulet. I placed it around Alainn’s neck when she was but two days old, the day I left her to be raised by the farrier and his wife.”

  The tears fell slowly slid down her cheeks and the memory clearly still brought pain to her heart.

  “Even if Alainn cannot live through this, the curse will finally be forever ended for she has been accepted as nobility without question or doubt!”

  “Aye, she is indeed an O’Rorke, daughter to my son, Teige,” Niall said with combined pride and sadness.

  Killian and Niall both watched as the woman finally moved the bottle from Alainn’s lips. None present were certain how much she had been able to swallow in her present condition, but they all remained stock-still anxiously waiting to see if there would be any change. Mara claimed if it did not prove to be a cure, the poison would quickly end Alainn’s life. So Mara kept her hand on Alainn’s weakened heart, waiting. And Killian watched for any indication of change. Niall stood by th
e bed and stared at the young girl.

  Alainn did not waken as they’d hoped, but neither did she die hastily as Mara had warned. Mara’s eyes seemed to slowly dim and lose all hope. Niall once more joined his daughter and grandsons in the corridor.

  Killian found himself down on his knees beside Alainn, with hands clasped and, for the first time in almost a decade, he prayed. He had attended church all these years as was demanded and expected, and outwardly he claimed to possess a strong faith. But, in truth, since his entire family had died and his father remained missing, he’d found it difficult to maintain his strong beliefs. When he was a youngster after Alainn had told him she believed his father still lived, he had done nothing but pray for weeks on end, but when that had never proven to be true, he’d felt abandoned by God, and so he had abandoned him as well.

  Now as he looked down at Alainn, he realized though God had not answered his prayers of allowing him to be reunited with his father, instead he had given him someone who had come to be his entire world. He had sent Alainn, for he would never believe she was evil and in truth maybe she was an actual angel sent to be with him even if for only a short while. But now, he prayed. He prayed with all his heart as he determinedly held tight to Alainn’s hand. He prayed all the rest of that day and well into the night.

  Mara noticed it first, for Killian’s eyes remained tightly closed. She saw Alainn’s finger twitch ever so slightly and she hoped it was not simply her body’s involuntary response. But when it continued, she poked Killian and he opened his eyes. He, too, saw Alainn’s fingers begin to move. Slowly she uncurled her fingers and then she moaned weakly. She began to cough and Killian assisted Mara in sitting her upright. And then Killian’s greatest prayers were answered, his most desirous wish came true, her beautiful eyes slowly opened. He had thought he would never again be given the chance to gaze into her unusual azure eyes again.

  She glanced at both of them with a curious expression almost as if she didn’t recognize them, and Mara appeared fretful that perhaps Alainn was experiencing the madness she’d spoken of. But then she took one very long look at Killian, and her undying love for him was evident. She smiled and she reached out to him. She gently placed her hand to his eye still so severely bruised and swollen shut.