"Och, Raffy... the sweetest lad," Ailill said after a moment, choosing to ignore her grandmother and finish with the lengthy toasts, given in the order the deaths had taken place. "I kent all along how ye burned for me, sweet wee Raff; nivver awed by such great presence as Herself, nay, ye were a normallad; for that alone I am grateful. Though ye did wish badly ye'd kissed me, that day I showed ye how to find your path in the wee leavings at the bottom o' yer mug." She laughed softly, a husky sound, her voice all but used up after hours of singing, chanting, speaking kind words, final goodbyes, without respite. "Ah, but I saw that which ye couldna fathom, aye? Ye became the braw warrior I promised ye would when first ye picked up a swordie and took yer place in my ranks, Rafferty Angus Ian Connolly MacDougal Mac Morna. I shall always remember how ye looked in yer first practice battle, the way ye grinned at that damn fool, Rabbie MacGwinn, before ye skewered him through the thigh; no but a wee flesh wound, true, but ye had the look o' a hardened criminal down to an art form under my own proud tutelage and he, actin' as the enemy that chill, rainy day, och aye, he let out a skelloch to wake the deid when ye snarled, whimpered like a frightened wee lass before the whole class when ye bared those pearly whites." She laughed aloud, hiccuped a bit, and two fat tears rolled unchecked down her blue-tinted cheeks. "In grief do I find the strength to conquer all, Raffy... darlin'. I shall remember everafter the green o' yer een, the black o' yer soft hair, and when next I set eyes upon wee Rory I shall give him that kiss ye always wanted and tell him how brave ye were to fight the enemy, no in the name o' the Tribe, but for masel' alone."
In silent salute, another shot disappeared, the sharp, tangy reek of whiskey wafting slowly through the small circle around the smoldering fires. Ailill's eyes were closed while she drank, hooded when at last she opened them to stare through her grandmother; she made no attempt to hide the fact that she wished the woman gone.
It seemed a bit of a surprise, the way Ailill acted toward her family; if they would have bought into the attitude of open despisal, Micah and Jacob might have believed that she truly hated them all... but there was that flicker in the back of her sapphire eyes, that heated glow which showed a deeply buried pain, a sense of humiliated outrage. It showed itself with the regularity of the popand sizzleof a pine knot hidden somewhere beneath the flickering flames. The night was too hot for a fire, too damp and sultry even for summer. Sweat poured off the brothers in rivulets, soaked the long lengths of jet-black hair until it shined like patent-leather about their ears. They, as well, wished for Fallon to leave; wished to talk to Ailill, though each man doubted he could find any words of comfort. She was in a rare mood- sad, angry, and full of memories of which they weren't a part. It had not been hard to pay attention to the small details of the unexpected, and completely alien, tribute. Ailill commanded attention with her very presence, her voice rich, husky as she recounted the full, lengthy names of each man lost to her, the accomplishments and small tidbits which had been endearing to her, personal things that gave them an inkling of just how much she loved her brothers in arms, and how that feeling had been reciprocated.
That last one, though... she had not wept again since first learning of what had happened in her absence, until she came to the final farewell- a mere boy, from the sound of it, younger than she. The need to cry, to sob her heart out, was there in those pink-rimmed eyes. No sooner did the older woman silently slip into the gathering dark, a quarter hour later, than the heart-shaped face crumpled, fell into the small, delicate hands in her lap; her hair, bright copper in the light of the fire, fell forward, covered her hands, her arms, trailed the ground below her tiny feet; the long curls trembled with the force of her grief, the necessary upwelling of silent tears wracked her small body for long moments.
Uncertain what to say, to do, Micah watched her in uneasy silence; seeing such untold sadness in the tiny beauty caused a lump to form in his own throat, not easily dislodged. Glancing up, he noticed that his twin had turned away slightly. Jacob's body was tense, muscles taut as piano wire, his face, painted with eerie shadows cast by the flickering flames, was stony, his eyes shiny with unshed tears... he was as affected as Micah by the girl's seeming despair, and having a harder time controlling his own sympathetic pangs. Sliding a long, narrow foot over the dew-damp earth, Micah nudged his brother's toe, a look of appeal in his eyes. As if by unspoken agreement, each grasped one of her small hands, drew closer on the stone bench, enfolded her in the strength of two perfectly matched pair of arms, and reveled in the soft warmth, the feel of her as she clutched them both closer. They held her without thought of want, or desire; without expectation, and suddenly, as if it had been predestined, Ailill became their anchor, as they had been hers.
They sat like that for a long while, huddled close as if seeking warmth in a blizzard, safety in the face of a cyclone; moving would break the spell and none wanted to ruin the moment of tenderness brought about by Ailill's losses. Feeling the continual dampening of the shirts beneath her palms, the telltale sign that it really was uncomfortably hot, and realizing on some level that if she remained in such an intimate position it would most certainly lead to more than simply embracing these lads, she softly cleared her throat, pulling away an inch or two to look at them, these two young men who had felt sympathy for the loss of strangers and didn't seem to mind her knowing it.
Two pair of eyes, crinkled up at the corners with rather sheepish smiles, met her own; she smiled back, swaying a bit. "I ha' owerdone... mphmm, me wallies are numb, fair swimmin' wi' the cratur in me veins," she slurred softly, smiling at the look of understanding that came over the handsome faces of Jacob and Micah. Somehow, she knew not exactly how, they knew what she had just said, the Scotspeak burred, slurred with extreme intoxication so that she was not even sure what had come out.
"Yeah, you're drunk, Abby," said Micah. "Kinda surprised y'all ain't comatose by now." He looked almost impressed but kept a tight rein on his features. Jacob's grin was far more revealing. Now that her sorrow was lessened, he felt like laughing. Her body seemed to be humming beneath his hand, swaying far more than she knew.
"Y'all drink like a man, Abby," he whispered, staring. "I think you could drink a sailor just back from a three-month tour of duty under the table." His soft snort of amusement was met with a magnanimous grin, a nod of agreement. "Or a bona fide drunk. So, now that y'all have numb, swimmin' teeth, do we gotta carry you to the john?"
"Nay... I could just swim on the tide o' uisge beatha, when it comes in," she answered in all seriousness. Her fingers rose up, caught a bead of sweat as it rolled slowly down Jacob's temple. "Tis verra hot tonight. Perhaps we could ha' a swim in yon wee loch?" Her head nodded toward the tree line some distance away and she stood, breaking the connection she had unintentionally begun to make. Her feet were as numb as her teeth and she giggled when her legs gave out beneath her; instead of finding her drunken self sprawled in the dirt, Ailill looked up at Micah, who had caught her by the shoulders in the nick of time.
"Och, ye look as if to be kissin' me, Micah, g'in a moment to gather the courage." His eyes widened, took on a thoughtful gleam and she ducked out of his grasp, staggering only a bit as she strode toward the oak wood, the long robe trailing out like a comma behind her. Staring after her for a moment, Micah hurried to catch up, a look of wistful regret shot in Jacob's direction as he moved past; as an afterthought, Jacob grabbed up the blanket they had been sitting on and, moving with quick strides, caught up just as Ailill gave a reason for refusing Micah that single desire.
"Aye, 'tis sorry I am," she was saying, much more clearly than moments before. "I would kiss ye, both," she added with a glance up at Jacob, "but it might be more than either o' ye bargained for."
"Why do you say that, Abby?" Micah asked, reaching for her hand when she stumbled.
"Och, did ye see that?" Ailill asked, eyeing the flat ground dubiously. "I tripped on an invisisible whiskey bo'tle." She laughed, shook her head at her own clumsiness, her seeming inability to s
peak properly. "Nivver ha' I been sae pissed." Jacob looked at her sharply, took her other hand to help guide her.
"And what are y'all so pissed at?"
"Hmm? Och, nay pissed mad," she attempted to explain. "Pissed wi' whiskey, in me cups, off the wagon? Or is it on? Nay... I'm no a common drunk, after all. Drunk, aye, that's the word. Or, mmphm, in-tox-i-ca-ted." When she slurred the word in syllables, both men chuckled. "Aye, laugh all ye wish, I dinna give a damn. 'Tis awful far tae the wee loch, isna it?"
"No, you're just pie-eyed." Micah gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Why won't you kiss me? Us? And why would a kiss be more than we bargained for? It ain't like we've never kissed before." He grinned at the memory. She stopped suddenly, peering at him as if he were a bit slow.
"Ye truly dinna ken? Damn me, ye don't!" Walking again, carefully stepping over shadows as if they were high as her shins, Ailill muttered under her breath for a few beats, unintelligible words, nonsense. "Ye do look like him, almost completely," she stated clearly, looking up again, studying the faces of both with her strange, dark eyes as if it were full daylight. "I dinna ken why ye ha' that blue tint in your eyes, though. He doesna... like MacDuff's, they are full black. But 'tis the only true difference I see, although... ye are a wee bit slimmer than ye'd be with tasty meals from Heartfire's kitchens to fill your wame. Ye've known hunger, which shouldna ha' happened."
Staring down at the girl, sure she was merely carrying on with the babble of a drunk, Micah shook his head, misunderstanding her point. "But why can't I kiss you?"
"Weel I was just esplainin' that, Micah. Ye look like your brother, aye? 'Tis a guid enough reason, for now."
He and Jacob shared a glance, both privately thinking that the whiskey had soaked into her brain like saltwater to a sea-sponge. It seemed to have dumbed her down. "Well, we are identical twins you know," said Micah. He was relieved that they were so close to the tree line, the pond just inside. Seeing it, he stepped up the pace a bit, still careful not to let the girl fall down. She shot him a strange look.
"Aye, Micah. All three o' you. As identical as peas in a pod. Ah, a swim, just the thing I need to clear me head! Woo!" Soon as she saw the water, beckoning with bits of starshine under the still canopy, Ailill let go their hands and doffed her robe, stepping away to disappear beneath the glassy surface of Rosewater with barely a splash.
"She seems real drunk," Jacob whispered at once. "We should hurry so she don't drown." Pausing just long enough to shake out the blanket beneath a tree, he followed his twin's lead, quickly stripping to bare skin, jumping in with a noisy, widespread splash before Ailill's head broke the surface.
With a gasp, she popped up before them, water streaming from her hair, into her eyes. Her fingers clamped hard on Micah's arm, on Jacob's, making both reach out, certain she was drowning. Chilled by the water, her soft mouth pressed suddenly against Micah's, lingered momentarily, warm and tangy-sweet, before turning to his twin for the same. Slipping away while each were still contemplating her actions, a smile lighting on the mirrored faces when she reappeared at the opposite side of the pond, her eyes seemed to take on an unaccustomed glow, bore deeply through the lads until each felt it like a caress to his soul.
"I cannot promise ye more than kisses, for now," Ailill called softly. "For ye look like yer brother and I have ever loved him wi' all my being." In the barest flicker of motion, she was out of the water, racing naked out of the woods. They watched her run, all speed and agility, as if she'd never been so drunk as she was moments before; Ailill sprinted toward the front porch of her parent's home, disappeared momentarily in shadow, and slipped into the yellow sliver of light cast by a lamp in the living room, snuffed out like a candle with the closing of the door.
The brothers stared at the house to see if she might reappear; when she did not, both grinned over at each other. "She kissed us!" laughed Jacob.
"Yeah, both of us. What does it mean?"
"I dunno, but if Ailill can't resist either of us, maybe she'll want both of us," Jacob answered hopefully. With a shrug of dismissal, he rolled away, somersaulting like a bobbin in the cool depths. "Let's stay over tonight," he added when he resurfaced. "I doubt Abby'll mind."
"O-kay. I know no one else will," Micah reasoned, remembering what he had overheard James saying to Abby just that morning; it seemed like ages ago.
"You missed the chance!" man had fairly growled. "You need to lie with them both, Abby darlin', if only for the sake of the Tribes. And, if you honestly think about it, they won't be much different from Tiernan. As alike a three peas in a pod." Shuddering at the sudden thoughts that filled his mind, Micah skimmed the top of the water with quick strokes and climbed out, shaking himself like a dog before flopping down on the blanket Jacob had laid out.
"Why'd you bring this?" he asked, peering up at a dripping Jacob, who rolled his eyes knowingly.
"Y'all know full well why. I had thought we could seduce the little vixen, make love to her on this blanket for the rest of the night, so close to her parents, who seem to want it way more than she does. I don't believe I've ever wanted a girl more than I want Abby." Flopping down beside his twin, he flashed a wolfish grin and, gazing down between his legs with much regret, grasped his half-erect cock with a fist. "Guess she read my mind again, huh? Too bad for you, boy..."
Awakenings
The still air was dense, heavy with moisture. A thick blanket of dew glimmered beneath the hazy light of a nearly full moon across every exposed surface, mirroring the ancient path of starshine through the heavens with an ethereal beauty that took one’s breath away. The sound of dripping water was audible from every direction; on the tips of millions of curling leaves, large drops sparkled like diamonds before falling into the moisture laden grass below. Every pocket and hollow, as far as the eye could see, was filled with a shimmering layer of mist, the vapors suspended above the earth as if awaiting the perfect moment to mingle their watery essence with the coming rain. It was hot, sultry; the kind of oppressive night heat that wakes one suddenly from their dreams, body drenched in sweat, feeling as if the moisture in the atmosphere were alive, a water spirit, a liquid beast intent on sending them to a watery grave.
The night sky to the West was filled with clouds of such a deep black that they seemed almost devoid of color; a roiling, bubbling abyss that slowly snuffed out the lights of the galaxy, devouring everything in its path as the massive cauldron of the sky tipped slowly on edge, spilling forth in a cleansing wave of nutrient rich water that would cool as it hit the ground in an orgiastic shower that would slake the thirst of the living, breathe life into the womb of the earth and leave the land steaming with satisfaction.
Ailill smiled with pleasure at the sight before her eyes, at the unspoken promise of relief. Slipping silently through the shadows, into the pale moonlight, she ran fleetly, soundlessly, across the dew covered grass toward the dense tree line, disappearing instantly from the sight of dark eyes that watched as she vanished, dreamlike, into the mist.
Taking a roundabout way through the dark evergreen forest of Wilderdeep so as not to be followed unknowingly, she walked without fear over older trails dredged up from the recesses of childhood memory, now overgrown by disuse with soft, lush ferns that cushioned the soles of her bare feet and sent up a sharp, clean, growing scent as they were crushed beneath her weight.
Her mind was in turmoil, her head filled with thoughts of the lads. Micah and Jacob. Secretly, she loved the sound of their names. Biblical names, so unlike her own. A purposeful choice for Kiah Morna to make, blatantly profane to their own kind; but not to her. Given intentionally as a sacrilege, in a time when people thought a good Christian name would save their child from the rapid downfall of the free world, it seemed a rather gross injustice to the Man upstairs, in her eyes; most of those same people gave up on the Man shortly after the first barrage of bombs fell, leaving only death and destruction in its wake, cities and societies, alike, mere shells of their former selves, left to the emptiness of
a fallen world. And yet, the people still had not been truly conquered; culled on a massive scale, sure, but not completely lost. Many survivors found new religion, new beliefs; or, more often, chose none. She had studied many faiths while in Scotland, but Ailill had been raised on beliefs much older than anything today, as her station in life dictated. Whether she wished it or not, she must always keep to the ancient ways, the system of Tribal beliefs, of Clan justice, that had kept her kind alive for millennia. For so long had her people reigned over lands hidden from mortal man’s view that they had witnessed the downfall of a great many civilizations, seen the wars of frail society through the eyes of an everlasting race, too comfortable in the fact that they would survive; the realization that they weren’t as strong as they had believed was, perhaps, more devastating than the losses they had been suffering over the past two centuries. She shuddered, seeing the weakness in herself through the shadows of the forest, a distant memory she had been given; a warning. Touching her throat with a soft fingertip, Ailill moved on.
Much was expected of her in the months to come. Requirements which had been set for her had to be carried out very soon; most involved Jacob and Micah. Strangers by circumstance who knew nothing about whom they were, where they came from. Nothing whatsoever about her. Everything had been left up to her. She alone must reveal many secrets to the lads before anything could be done. Vows would have to be made, blood spilled. She knew what she wanted, had left it all in the land of her heart; she knew, as well, that she would follow the path of her birthright, give in to the love she had begun to feel mere days ago; even if it killed her in the end, as before. As always. Her own people were a loving society; she, by nature and an excess of genetics, the most loving of all. Marriage, in a Christian sense, was not required, nor was it looked upon as desirable. It was all but banned. And yet, her father had used such a union as a threat against her, knowing how she felt about her forced relations. The beliefs of her own kin had long been that a person should not be tied down to a single other person. Even her own parents, though averred to each other in an ancient vow of blood, were, and always had been, free to love whomever they wished whenever they wished, though neither ever had, that she had any knowledge of. However the Elders worded it, whether they wished to bleed her dry or not, Ailill had no wish to avow herself to anyone ever again; that desire had been left behind in the hidden Highlands as well. And yet, unlike any of those she was meant to one day lead, it was required of her.
Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) Page 13
