Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy

by Melissa Macfie

  “Who are you?”

  “Ye ken who I am.”

  Leo gave him one scathing look in response, then set about recreating the placement of the stones and candles. Once the fourth stone was in place, the veil hummed with power. The dog hunched down and growled, hackles up in response to the stirrings of magic.

  “Get tha’ dog out o’ th’ room noo. He’ll try ta protect her and harm her in th’ process.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Spencer lunged for him. Leo snagged his collar and dragged the belligerent dog out of the bedroom. She returned to squirm underneath the bed for the final placement of the stone. She grunted but moved as a much younger woman despite her injured foot as she stepped around to the opposite side of the bed to allow Alex to start.

  Alex pierced Leo with a glance, and at once pulled up the hem of Brenawyn’s dress to place his large hand on her abdomen while he slid the other in her bodice to cover her heart. Leo’s eyes blazed with incredulity and outrage, but stopped when all of his scrolls ignited to brilliant life. They coursed down his clear chest and arms an iridescent blue; the tattoos on the other side glowed red with matching intensity. She was locked in his gaze and she saw the change from his clear blue eyes to iridescent. Fear replaced her initial thoughts of his licentious motives. Frightened by the sight, she reeled back from the power rolling off of him.

  “Belanus. Belanus! Hear me.” Alex shouted in his baritone. “Most revered Belanus, hear my plea. Intervene on behalf o” this child ta th’ Mother Goddess and ask for both release and sustenance from her divine light.”

  The room grew warm, and a rasping sounded. On the heels of it, a breeze started to blow though no window was open. The breeze grew in intensity, forming a vortex which whipped around counterclockwise.

  Knowing his initial prayer had been answered, he took a breath to address the Goddess herself. “Mother Goddess, please release yer child. In th’ name of Belanus, who is most revered for enlightenment, I put myself, Alexander Morgan Sinclair, Druid Shaman, at yer mercy, dae with me as ye must, but release yer child, Brenawyn McAllister, from yer hold so she can bring honor to ye.”

  Brenawyn’s body grew stiff as her back arched off the bed, then a huge exhalation escaped her lips as she slumped down again in relaxation. Her runes slowly melting towards Alex, whose hands held firm. The last of her luminosity dissipated as Alex’s glowed painfully bright. Leo shielded her eyes. Breaking contact, Alex stumbled away, falling to his knees on the braided rug.

  Chapter 11

  Thoughts only for her granddaughter, Leo leapt at the bed, emotions in turmoil. She felt Brenawyn’s forehead, cheeks and neck—no fever. Her breathing was slow and resembled the cadence of sleep. Leo patted Brenawyn’s arm, relieved, and moved tentatively to Alex’s kneeling form. His head was bowed and the glowing runes now shimmered, casting him in an eerie radiance.

  Moving behind him, Leo touched his shoulder and he shuddered in response. “Doonae.”

  She moved to unclasp the torc at his neck, but his hand stopped her and tried to shove her away.

  “Please, doonae. T’was all o’ them. I cannae…I didna ken. Who…who is she? All o’ them! Ye ha’ ta get her oot o’ haur. I doonae ken how much longer…longer I can hold on,” he spit out in agony.

  Leo reached into her shirt pocket to withdraw a pen knife and before he let her go, she twisted his arm and held it against his back and she cut him across the knuckles heartlessly. He hissed in pain and tried to pull the hand back, but she ruthlessly twisted and pulled it up further, letting his blood ooze over her hand. Quickly she transferred the sharp knife to her teeth and slashed the inside of her fingers. She spit the knife out and fumbled through his hair to the torc. She slid her torn fingers along the smooth inside of the piece. Then she grabbed his bleeding hand, untwisted the arm and ran it along the carved outside of the neck piece holding his hair out of the way. She released him, and Alex fell forward to catch himself on his hands.

  She stood over him regarding the exposed torc; it and his neck were smeared with their blood. The carvings lit up one by one as their blood mingled. The precisely carved ivory details of the bear, hawk, leopard, and wolf stood out in contrast to the seeping blood as it collected in the grooves.

  Alex was breathing heavily, his hair covering the array of emotions that splashed over his face: intense pain, rage, confusion, and relief. He could feel the power ebb from his body and calm settle over it. He slowly came to himself, and piecing together the details he deliberately sat up, and turned to find Leo with her hands on her hips looking like an avenging angel.

  “Shaman, we will speak in the kitchen.” She hobbled out the door.

  Alex sat there, dumbfounded, for a few minutes, trying to clear his muddled brain. He stood on shaky legs, grabbed the doorframe for support, and gingerly walked to the kitchen, holding onto the wall to avoid falling. He found her in the room off her kitchen, two chairs already pulled up next to the counter facing each other. She sat when she saw him and handed him a cup of water when he approached. “Here drink this.”

  He did so obligingly.

  “We have a lot to discuss and I’m not sure how much time we have until she wakes up. Before we begin, I want your word on several points. First, we only discuss this when Brenawyn is not around. Second, I say when she is ready to know everything.”

  Seeing his intended interruption brewing on his face, she leaned towards him before he even formulated the first word on his lips, “No! I am speaking now. I am laying down the ground rules.” She looked over her shoulder at nothing. “Where was I? Yes.”

  Swinging back to pierce him with her gaze, “Third, Shaman, you will not force the information on her. She has not been brought up knowing the Auld Ways. She will wake up scared because she was kept ignorant—largely my own making, but nonetheless you will go slowly with her. Fourth, she gets to choose. If she does not want the responsibility, she does not take it on! And finally, fifth…” Leo’s voice rose as she stood to lord over him, “You will not take her from me!”

  “Agreed.”

  “Agreed? To all conditions?” she asked incredulously.

  “I agree ta all o’ th’ conditions.” Alex repeated. “Noo, sit doon and tell me wha’ ye did ta me upstairs.”

  “From what I understood, you took the power of the incantation and transferred it to your own body.” Stopping to collect herself she looked him in the eye. “I thank you for that. But you underestimated the strength and it was more than you could handle or,” looking at him askance, “more than you anticipated given your short time of preparation. I know things like that take preparation. All I did was to release the power housed inside you to a more convenient location. I saw the torc this morning when you walked out of the office. I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it, and of course, I thought it a fake until I saw your interlace.”

  “How did ye ken it would work?”

  “For someone who is supposed to be omniscient, you certainly do not have a clue.”

  “No’ omniscient, just a repository. Thaur is a difference.”

  Pursing her lips, Leo sat down. “The energy of the incantation, or the essence of the gods if you will, is directly linked to the earth and all things in it. The four symbols on your torc are the forms of the animals only, and because it is not linked to any one animal, the energy gets dispersed among all the animals of that form. Animals are closer to the gods because they lack the fundamental element that separates them from us—the will to choose. They can better handle this kind of power without it hindering them in any way. I’ll demonstrate. Spencer, come here, boy.” Leo called.

  Tags jingling, the dog jumped off the couch and shambled in to sit by her feet, wagging his tail. “That’s a good boy.” The dog lay at Leo’s feet. Pointing to the corner, “Let me have that piece of paper over there behind you.” Alex reached over and handed her the sheet with a pencil he found underneath. Leo drew a crude picture of a dog, which looked surprisingly like Spencer despi
te its basic lines, and she placed it on the counter between them. Muttering words under her breath, she bent and repeated them in a whisper over the paper. The chant ended abruptly and the paper floated off the counter as a draft caught it. It landed near Spencer, and Alex could see his hackles go up. He lifted his head, sniffed the air and his tail began to wag slowly as if unsure. Another whiff of the air, the tail wagged in earnest, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He flipped on his back to rub on the carpet making doggie grunts of pleasure.

  “The words of the chant aren’t important here. The focus of the spell was Spencer and he had a pleasant reaction: the tail wag and the back rub. If you had been the focus, the reaction would not have been as pleasant because your free will stands in the way, resisting instinctual response. Humans have to meditate and prepare to quell the rise of their inner spirit. This was why you reacted the way you did. You did not suppress your spirit enough to allow for the essence of the pantheon.”

  Alex shook his head puzzled. “In all my experience, I ha’ ne’er heard of tha’ happening.”

  “Mmphm.”

  Alex rose and gave her a level stare. “Sit doon, Leo. I ha’ some questions. First off, why don’t ye seem at all surprised by today’s events?”

  Leo tried to hide behind the guise of tidying up. She was careful not to look in his eyes, but Alex gripped her shoulders lightly, trying to curb his mounting impatience, “Woman, sit doon and tell me wha’ ye ken.”

  She sat, eyes locked on the piece of paper, intent on folding it repeatedly. “It has to do with the stones and Brenawyn’s mother.”

  “Go on.”

  Leo began telling the story and soon found her trepidation over revealing what had transpired that night relieved. “I thought something went wrong with the spell when she told me what happened. The stones exploded and were absorbed into the skin that protected the baby. I wasn’t surprised that Brian refused me having any contact with them. The thoughts of what could have happened left me sick with horror. I deserved worse—much, much worse. So I didn’t fight it. She was born later that night, healthy and robust despite being two months premature. I thanked the gods, goddesses, and whatever other divinity that watched over her. Knowing that she was alive and well…it was enough, even if I had to sacrifice being a part of her life to do it.

  “Brenawyn’s life has been filled with tragedy. Her mother died of cancer when she was nine, her father died of a massive heart attack when she was thirteen, then later her husband…I wanted to do what was right, to abide by her mother’s wishes,” she said pleadingly. “When Brenawyn came to me she was a sad little girl; it broke my heart. I kept her parents alive for her, raising her the way I think they would have wanted her raised. I kept my beliefs out of her upbringing and posed my store as nothing but hocus pocus designed for commercialism.

  “I was taken off guard when I came down yesterday and saw the stones she chose for the ritual. She arranged them in the same configuration as I had that night twenty-nine years ago. I had never uttered a word about it, and her mother was too far gone with pain to notice. It sounds crazy, but can that knowledge be instinctual?” She looked into Alex’s eyes searchingly.

  “Perhaps. Nay direct record gives any insight ta explain wha’ ye just described. We can turn ta th’ prophecies, but then ‘tis a question o’ interpretation. They are so convoluted and vague tha’ it makes it difficult ta pin down ta any specific person, event, or even time period. Let me think on it awhile though,” he added.

  “Come out back with me,” looking over her shoulder, “I don’t know how long Brenawyn will sleep and I do not want her overhearing our conversation.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Brenawyn awoke chilled and alone in her room. Unwilling to open her eyes and accept that she was conscious, she felt around for a blanket with her eyes still closed. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes to discover find she had been divested of the robe and lay on top of the comforter in her insufficient white, cotton sundress. She swung her feet to the floor and ambled over to the mirror. She stopped when she heard murmurings from the kitchen. Prioritizing, she opted for food over hygiene and turned to pad down the hall barefoot. The husky baritone of Alex’s voice now intruded and she stopped to listen. She sat on the step smiling to herself; not yet willing to disturb the conversation as she listened to the cadence of his voice. She missed that…a male presence in her house. She couldn’t hear what was being discussed, just the hushed tones of Alex and her grandmother.

  Chairs sliding back on the linoleum and retreating footsteps indicated that Alex was leaving. She stood and proceeded into the now empty kitchen. Spencer was standing at the back door looking out. He wagged his tail when Brenawyn approached. “Hey, puppy. How’s my good boy?” reaching down to give him a double pat on his side, “Stay!” as she wiggled around him to squeeze out the door. She pushed it open and closed it tightly behind her, then saw Alex and her grandmother still in conversation in the garden. She called out to them, but her voice was weak. She tried to clear her throat, but it was raspy and dry.

  ~ ~ ~

  A white fluttering caught Alex’s eye and he turned to see Brenawyn grasping the porch railing. He took the steps in a few bounds and led her to the wicker loveseat. “How dae ye feel?”

  “I’m fine, just a little tired. I can’t really remember what happened. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I feel fine, like myself.”

  Leo mounted the steps to lean with her back on the porch post, arms folded tightly over her bosom.

  “Hi, Nana. I’m sorry I ruined the ritual.”

  “Pussy Cat, you didn’t ruin anything because it was just,” waving her hand in the air noncommittally, “it was just fluff.”

  Brenawyn caught the frown that Alex flashed her grandmother, but she had no clue as to what it meant. “But, the crowd … and did I see right, was it being filmed?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure they thought it was planned. Don’t worry you did fine...just fine.”

  Leo returned his look with a self-satisfied one that clearly intimated something.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dae ye need anything, Brenawyn,” Alex asked, “afore I go?”

  Her brows knit in confusion. “What happened?”

  Not wanting to rush her by telling her things that her mind would rebel at, he probed, “How much dae ye remember?”

  Brenawyn looked up and tried to recall, but only pieces of what seemed to be a fantastic and not-at-all-likely story came to mind. She captured his eyes again and the blurry recollection of a very naughty dream came to mind, she blushed and tried to look away. She closed her eyes. “It’s all a blur and crazy images.” Shaking her head to clear it, “I’m so tired.”

  “Sleep then.” Alex brushed her cheek and assured her, “We will talk about wha’ happened when yer ready.” Leaning down, “I, for one, cannae wait.”

  “Why are you leaving?”

  “Because ye need to rest. I’ll stop in tomorrow to see ye. Perhaps then, if ye feel up to it, we can go ta sup.” Alex offered.

  “Yes, I would like that.” Brenawyn responded.

  “Well then, ‘til tomorrow.” He got up and placed a kiss on the top of her head. He turned to say his goodbye to Leo and she placed her hand on his arm as he turned to go.

  “We still need to talk. You have a great deal to answer for,” Leo whispered.

  Meeting her eyes, “I leuk forward to it. Remember…read th’ texts. The answers ye are looking for are thaur. Then we’ll talk.”

  Chapter 12

  Alex entered his apartment, quickly shoved the living room furniture against the walls, and rolled up the area rug to clear a space in the middle of the wood floor. Furious at the outcome of the events of the night, he couldn’t focus even enough to keep his eyes closed, let alone regulate his breathing or slow his heartbeat for the necessary meditation.

  The gods needed to answer for their actions. They were manipulative, self-serving, merciless. Frustrated and impatient, he lit fi
ve utility candles, foci he hadn’t needed for five hundred years. He didn’t even hold one shred of hope that he’d get answers. He was no one. A slave with no rights, no soul.

  He placed the four candles at equidistant points and then carried the last back to sit in the center of the cleared space. There was a draft nearby and the flame of the candle in his hand, much like his concentration, fluttered, almost guttering, and then blazing, raging to life in hues of yellow and orange. He set the candle in the small holder a space away on the floor in front of him, but the candle tilted wildly. Taking it out, he dripped some of the melting wax into the cup, and then returned it, waiting a few seconds before letting go. The wax held and he sat back correcting his posture, and focused on the flame.

  He stared at the flame, allowing the frustration and impatience to recede slowly. He breathed in measured increments, counting seconds before each exhalation and then again before he filled his lungs, all the while attentive to the consuming flame. He stayed this way for a time, but eventually felt the slow release of tension. He no longer had to count seconds before taking a breath. He turned to focus on his heart, imagining it thumping strongly in his chest, pumping blood throughout his body. With time, he felt the rate slow.

  The strong draft died out and the flame leapt to life. The details of the room grew blurry and indistinct as Alex’s living room, and his rented furniture strewn against the walls, dimmed. Mist appeared, slowly seeping in from the room’s crevices, and tendrils reached out and encapsulated Alex; it roiled and swirled around his sitting form. The mist-covered living room floor gave way to a forest laden with lush vegetation, shimmering in pulsating waves, allowing glimpses that overlapped the diminishing view of the living room. This new scene coalesced in sensory detail as the other faded out.