Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles)

by Wright, Natalie

  “Saorla, you suddenly look so sad.”

  “A moment of weakness.”

  “It isn’t weakness to feel – to be human. You know what is coming. Much blood will be shed. Many will lose their lives.”

  “Yes, Cathaír, and that is why I have no time for the human frailty of my emotions. My Order must be able to rely on my steady leadership.”

  “You are a strong leader, Saorla.”

  Saorla poured Cathaír a cup of tea as well.

  “There is more news too. This you may not know. There has been a great betrayal.”

  “A betrayal? Of whom?” asked Saorla.

  “Of High King Ruaidrí,” replied Cathaír.

  “Ah yes, the plot against him that I saw so many moons ago. But I have not seen a vision of this happening recently. How have I not seen this?” wondered Saorla aloud.

  “I suspect that magic is involved. It is Cormac, son of King Brion.”

  “Cormac. Yes, he has an axe to grind. He has always blamed Ruaidrí for his father’s death. So he is after revenge, is he?”

  “There is more. As you told me many months ago, the leader of this invasion, he is different from the ones before. He calls himself Dughall, and he is after more than just the typical spoils of war.”

  Saorla suddenly felt as though she would vomit. All at once a terrible vision came into her sight – a vision of a dark haired man with blazing brown eyes riding hard and fast right to the Sacred Grove. She had dreamed this, but did not know what her dream meant.

  “He is on his way,” was all that she could whisper.

  “Then we don’t have much time,” replied Cathaír.

  “But how does he know? How did he learn of our order and of the portal?”

  “That’s what I was telling you. Cormac has betrayed King Ruaidrí and the Order. He saw his opportunity and sold us out to Dughall.”

  It was just as Cathaír said. Cormac’s father had lost the crown to Ruaidrí in a fierce battle. To assuage Cormac and his district, Ruaidrí had given Cormac a post as his second in command. Being so high placed within the kingdom, Cormac knew much – or had the opportunity to spy on much – of what happened in the King’s court, both public and private.

  Cormac, always intent on revenge, saw opportunity. He arranged a meeting with Dughall, as sadistic and power hungry of a human as ever there was. Cormac offered his services to Dughall.

  “I have no need of a spy,” replied Dughall in a low growl.

  “Then perhaps you require an assassin. I am extremely close to the High King,” offered Cormac in desperation.

  “What makes you think that I need you to take out Ruaidrí?”

  “There must be some assistance I can offer my liege.”

  “What do you know of the secret order of women guarding a well?”

  “Ah, it is women you are after sire,” laughed Cormac.

  When he looked at Dughall though he stopped laughing. Dughall’s jaw was set hard, and his dark eyes were unsmiling.

  “If you have no information about this secret order, then I have no use for you,” Dughall said. He motioned for his guards to take Cormac.

  Cormac saw the writing on the wall. He thought fast.

  “I have information about the women of the well – I have information. I thought you were joking,” he stammered.

  Dughall motioned his guards to halt. “You will tell me what you know and if you provide anything useful, I will spare your sorry life – for now.”

  Cormac started talking. He told a tale of a secret order of all women, Priestesses, who lived in a walled compound surrounded by a grove of thick ash, thorn and oak. He told of how once a girl entered, she never left and inside learned the arts of magic and of war. Cormac told of the legend of a fierce woman warrior from China who taught the women in the Grove the ancient arts of eastern warfare but who was rumored to be over a thousand years old. Cormac told Dughall that legend had it that these Women of the Well were formidable warriors and much feared.

  “What of the Well?” hissed Dughall.

  “Yes, well, it is said that they guard a sacred well. It is said that the spring there has healing waters in it, maybe even the secret to everlasting life. Legend says that it is because of these waters that the old Chinese woman lives to this day.”

  “Healing waters? Nothing else?” asked Dughall.

  “Well, some say that there was a sort of door there to another world, a place some call Anwaan, the Netherworld. And it is said that the High Priestess wears a magical torc; that with it, she alone can open the door between worlds. But this is all legend my liege, no one believes in that stuff anymore,” replied Cormac.

  Dughall sat back in his chair, a smile on his face. Cormac could see a twinkle in Dughall’s eyes. Cormac was relieved that he said something that appeared to please Dughall. He may live to see another day.

  6. Sorcha

  Saorla knew that she had only one day, perhaps two, before Dughall and the invaders came upon her beloved Grove. The magical spells surrounding the walled compound that was her home would provide some protection. A powerful spell that had protected the Grove for centuries hid the Grove from the view of all who passed except those that knew the incantation that revealed it. She lifted the spell briefly every time that Cathaír visited.

  She also knew that her allies, the Fair Sídhe – the spirits of the wood – would help too. There was Lianhan Sídhe, a powerful spirit who protected the Grove from any who would enter. And of course there was Madame Wong, the ancient spirit warrior who was practically an army in her own right!

  But Saorla knew that an army of men determined to break down the walls could do so. No spell or the magic of forest folk could prevent it. She also knew that while the Priestesses of the order, the Fair Sídhe and Madame Wong would put up a fierce battle, twenty adult women, a handful of young girls, some faeries and a spirit warrior were no match for a whole army of men and horses.

  The largest threat was that Dughall knew of the torc, and he believed in the portal. Saorla’s vision was clear on this. Dughall was after the torc, and he wanted to enter the Netherworld. Saorla knew it wasn’t for a good purpose.

  Saorla knew what she must do. She summoned Cathaír to her chambers. Propriety be damned. She must see him alone.

  Saorla had her back to the door when Cathaír entered her small but warm and inviting cottage. He could tell just from looking at her back that she was full of fear and concern. Being alone, he did what he would never have done at any other time. He turned her to him and gathered her in his embrace. As she returned his kiss, he saw tears in her eyes.

  Cathaír wiped Saorla’s tears and held her hands in his. “My dearest love, do not cry.”

  “Cathaír, so much I wanted to say to you – my Anam Ċara – my soul friend. But now we do not have the luxury of time. There is something that you must do for me.”

  “Anything my love. You know I am your servant.”

  “You will protest this task and say that you cannot. But you must not argue with me. Remember that first and foremost I am High Priestess of the Order of Brighid. My duty is to protect the torc and the portal at all cost.”

  “Yes and my first duty is to protect you, your Highness.”

  “But you protect me in order to protect the torc, Cathaír. That is what you are actually protecting. Remember that now as I ask this task of you.”

  “What task, dearest? You know I will give my life for you if you ask it.”

  “Not your life, Cathaír. You must live. You must survive and protect Sorcha. She is the most valuable life for you to protect now. You must complete this task for me and then leave this grove. You must ride in stealth, cover your tracks well, and go to Sorcha.”

  “I cannot leave you, Saorla, not now. You will need a strong warrior here.”

  “You must leave, Cathaír. Sorcha’s life is what you must protect. She needs you.”

  “Yes, Saorla, Sorcha needs me. She needs us. We will both fight and defea
t Dughall. Then we can get Sorcha and live together as a family.”

  Saorla gently touched Cathaír’s face. “My dearest. My love,” she murmured as she kissed him again. Cathaír didn’t need the sight to see the resolve and sadness in Saorla’s eyes.

  “There are secrets of this place that even you do not know Cathaír. Secrets that have been passed from the lips of one High Priestess to another. Secrets that now I and only I know. Secrets that must die with me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Cathaír, this golden torc around my arm. This is what Dughall is after. If he gets his hands on it, he will figure out a way to decipher its magic and enter the portal.”

  “No, Dughall’s nothing more than a brute soldier and killer. He’s too dense to understand how to use the old magic.”

  “He has help.”

  “Who besides you or a Priestess here could interpret the spells?” asked Cathaír.

  “I have had a vision. He has one of the Dark Sídhe with him, and he will soon meet Cian, an old druid who was once on his way to being High Druid but who is now a Dark Wizard.”

  “A Sídhe? Who? A pixie I bet. Those rotten little. . .”

  “So you see, I must take drastic measures. With the help of Cian and a Dark Sídhe, Dughall may be able to find a way to enter the portal.”

  “What do you plan to do, Saorla?”

  “This you must help me with. I cannot do this alone. You must help me break the Triad of Brighid.”

  “I’ve never heard of the Triad of Brighid.”

  “The portal, Cathaír, must be protected. The magic of this grove, it is not just the torc. It is the Triad of Brighid that creates the magic that has allowed this place to stay hidden and kept the portal open all these centuries, even when the magic at Newgrange and at the great Glastonbury Tor has been lost.”

  “What is the Triad Saorla?”

  “The torc is one piece. The other is the Sacred Grove itself.”

  “What is the third piece?” he asked.

  “Me,” replied Saorla.

  “You? What do you mean?”

  “The life force of the High Priestess. Once I was ordained as High Priestess by Dectire, the ceremony fused my life force to the torc and to the Sacred Well to form the Triad. All three must exist together to keep the magic of the Sacred Grove of Brighid alive. That is why a new High Priestess is always ordained prior to the death of the former High Priestess. The life force is constant and eternal, just as the water springs from the well and the fires of the sun burn, the triad keeps the Sacred Grove protected and the portal open.”

  “So if you die, the spell is broken because there is no other High Priestess?”

  “That’s right. Sorcha would have been the next High Priestess. When I ordained her, her life force would fuse with this place, and the Triad would be unbroken. . . ”

  “But now we cannot wait for Sorcha, can we?” said Cathaír, tears welling in his eyes.

  “No, Cathaír, we cannot. I must depart this place and time. The spell will be broken, and the portal will close, but the Netherworld will be protected from Dughall. He must not be allowed to enter the portal, Cathaír.”

  Cathaír dropped his head and cried openly. Fat tears flowed down his cheeks.

  “You said you had a task for me. Please don’t ask me to take your life, my love. That is something I cannot do for you.”

  “I wouldn’t ask that of you, dearest. Besides, the torc will not release from me if another takes my life. I must summon the courage to drain my own life force,” she said. Tears streamed down her face as well.

  “But you must protect the torc, Cathaír. You must ensure that the torc will never be found by Dughall or anyone else except a Priestess of the Order of Brighid.”

  His body was wracked with grief. Through his tears, Cathaír said, “I will perform that task for you Saorla. I will do everything in my power to ensure no one ever finds it.”

  With a sigh of relief, Saorla replied, “Good. And then, once you complete that task, you must go to Sorcha.” Saorla’s eyes were filled with tears too. “Promise me, Cathaír. . . promise me that you will protect Sorcha.”

  “I will my love. I pledge that to you. I am in service to you, Saorla, my High Priestess.”

  Cathaír spent what was to be Saorla’s last night with her. They didn’t care that it was forbidden for a Priestess to be alone with a man. They didn’t care what anyone would say or do. One last night to love one another and share their quiet reverence for life.

  7. The Order Of Brighid

  Dawn had not yet broken when the bell at the Great Hall rang out again and again. The bell usually rang only for noon and evening meals. It was the signal that all should gather at the Great Hall. Tension immediately rose in the air, as all in the Grove knew this meant trouble.

  The Younglings nervously whispered to each other “What’s going on?” and “Do you know what’s happening?” They did not know why they had been summoned to the Great Hall before sunrise.

  Saorla stood serenely in front of her chair at the head of the Great Hall, waiting for all to filter in. She was dressed in her best white linen tunic and had a purple cape fastened about her shoulders with a large jeweled brooch. Her hair was tightly plaited and woven with small jewels. When they saw Saorla standing straight and solemn, bedecked in her best ritual finery, they fell quiet and took their seats. After a long silence, Saorla spoke.

  “My sisters, you know that significant change is upon us. Since the beginning of the Order many moons ago, armies have come to our fair land to take what is not theirs. Our people have fought off these invaders time and again.” Saorla paused and then sat in her chair.

  “Many of you have had visions and know that this time, it is different.”

  Saorla looked out and saw many of the priestesses nodding their heads. Their look of worry and fear meant that they too had seen the foretelling of the end of their world.

  “Our High King is dead, and as I speak to you, there is an army advancing on this very Grove,” Saorla said as several priestesses let out an audible gasp.

  The priestess Coventina said, “But we are protected here. The spells and enchantments. And there’s Lianhan Sídhe and Madame Wong.”

  “True, Coventina, we have some protection. But as we speak, a dark one comes to our Grove. He intends to gain use of the magic of Brighid for his own evil purpose. And he is being helped by a traitor of the High King, by one of our former brothers and by at least one of the Dark Sídhe.”

  The women whispered in disbelief. Saorla continued.

  “We haven’t much time my sisters so listen well to my words. We are the last of our kind and all that stands between this dark force and the Sacred Well. All that you have trained for – all of the skills of war, spells and incantations – all of your craft – you will need it now.” Saorla paused and breathed deeply. She knew she had to inspire them and help them past their fear.

  “Each of you has a singular gift, something that you do better than anyone else. Use your gift in service to your sisters, in service to fair Tara, and in service to the Goddess herself.” Saorla could see the priestesses sitting a little taller, their fear dissipated, replaced by pride and determination.

  “Within one more rotation, you will fight the greatest battle this Grove has ever seen. You will fight for your life and for the soul of Ireland. These men, they have never seen women warriors before. They will underestimate you. Use that to your advantage.

  “I will hold council now with the Fair Sídhe, our allies, to request their aid in our time of need. The elder Priestesses and Madame Wong have instructions from me for your preparations and battle strategy. Do exactly as they ask of you.”

  Saorla looked out on the faces of the Priestesses of the Order of Brighid and knew that this may be the last time she would see many of them. As she glanced down at the younglings in the first row, she felt a tear come to her eye. Was she doing the right thing? Shouldn’t she be by their side a
nd fight with them? The thought of any of the blood of her sisters being shed. . .

  She took a deep breath and suppressed her tears. She knew what she had to do. This was not a time to question the deep knowing within.

  “My sisters, I love you all. Remember, you are the embodiment of the Goddess herself. Let the Goddess flow through you. May your sword be true, your shield strong, your breath steady and may the Light of the Goddess be with you always.” With that, she put her hands in prayer position by her heart and bowed to her sisters. They bowed to her as well as she walked forward to bestow on each the blessing of the Moon. After she had blessed the last priestess, she walked out of the Great Hall for the last time, her purple cloak billowing behind her.

  8. The Dark One Comes

  Hours after Cormac betrayed the most sacred secrets of Ireland, Dughall ordered his men to assassinate Ruaidrí, the last High King of Ireland. Dughall’s official mission was complete. He had control of the Emerald Isle.

  But for Dughall, control over an island overrun with barbarians was not enough. He had his sights on something far greater. The next morning Dughall put his highest commander in charge of Tara, and he set off with his best army to the south and west to search for the Sacred Grove of Brighid. At nightfall, Dughall ordered camp and went to his tent to eat alone.

  As Dughall chewed his bread, he heard a slight rustling sound behind him. Within seconds, he was on his feet, turned around and had his sword pulled from its sheath. His men knew better than to enter his tent without permission.

  In the darkness, he saw a small figure appear. Was a child here in his encampment? Child or no, he would kill any intruder.

  But it wasn’t a child. What he saw before him was a small – pixie! He couldn’t believe his eyes. He had heard the Celt peasants talk of forest folk and faeries, but he didn’t believe in it. Dughall thought it was just the talk of imbecile pagans.

  Here it was though, standing no more than two feet high and extremely slight of build. Her ears came to a point, and her skin was as white and luminous as marble. Her wings were like dragonfly wings, shiny and iridescent, changing colors depending on the light and her mood. Her eyes were overly large for her small face and dark as coal with no color visible at all. The overall impression was frightening despite her diminutive stature.