For a moment it seemed that Eavan was having the upper hand, bringing his sword down in vengeance against the general. He already bore bruises and cuts, but he knew he had to kill his enemy. For his part, Crasius believed he owed it to Caesar to win this campaign and wipe the Celts to extinction. With all his might Crasius arose and knocked Eavan to the ground. He then kicked his sword from his hand and as Eavan reached for it, Crasius dug his sword into his back and through his body. Eavan groaned in pain as his hands stopped reaching for his sword and his body descended to the ground. Crasius felt superior yet felt strange, as if something had possessed him. It wasn't an issue for him; he was too busy relishing the moment.
Branwyn looked up, horrified at what her eyes were showing her. She pushed her way through the retreating Roman soldiers to kill Crasius. " Murderer!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, nearly announcing her arrival to him. Her hand came down firmly with her sword against him. Crasius had turned around, hearing her behind him. They began their own battle as countless survivors from both sides watched.
Crasius swore he could see the fire in her eyes as they fought. No woman ever stood up to him like this. This would be a wonder to tell his friends in Rome—a woman with a sword, fighting a man. He could barely contain his laughter. Suddenly, his sword was knocked out of his hand and Branwyn drove her sword into him. Running towards Eavan, Branwyn knelt before him, speaking to him softly. Realizing he would die, he lifted his hand towards her face, caressing her. It was too late. His wound was too deep. She could feel him leaving her. Tears flooded her eyes as she held his lifeless body.
"No, no, please--this isn't happening," she said, rocking back and forth with his body. The people cheered at first, but silence fell as Branwyn arose from the muddy battlefield.
“Branwyn," said Malik, one of the clan leaders who had survived. Reaching for her, he murmured her name softly.
"He was a proud warrior. He died with honor," she said as she walked away, suffocating under the pain. The only comfort she had was that the Celts buried their own. Eavan, one of the courageous ones who stood against the oppression of Rome, would at least receive that much honor.
Branwyn returned to the small cottage she called home. She sat down on the bed and grabbed a piece of his clothing. She held it to her chest. Her sobs could no longer be contained and tears came streaming down her face. Guilt began to kill her soul and cloud her judgment.
"I should have protected him," she sobbed softly, knowing that she had to hold it together for the sake of his memory. "No, no, he was a good fighter. There was nothing I could do." She began to try to reassure herself.
Slowly making her way back to the battlefield she saw what was left of her clan—somber and tear-filled faces surrounding her. Battles were never a happy event, but the death of so many meant having to start over again without them. As the funeral procession began, Branwyn could only feel numb like the countless women who had lost their husbands, sons and daughters. Her mind could not grasp the notion and she walked off as if something were more important than honoring the dead. People stared at her as she left in such an unseemly manner, but they understood her pain and knew her heart was shattered.
Branwyn walked into the woods, sinking down on a rock in the center of the forest to clear her thoughts, but nothing could make her forget. Their love was something that could never fade away. A woman dressed in a white robe, a gold-spiraled necklace around her neck, walked through the trees to her. It was Cara, Druid of knowledge.
"Branwyn, I know how you feel at this moment. I was sad to see him go," Cara said solemnly, offering her condolences.
Branwyn looked over in bitterness. " You couldn't possibly understand what I feel right now. You should have protected him and the countless others who fought in your name and teachings! How dare you talk to me about how you feel? You are alive!"
Cara seemed to feel her pain and tried to continue soothing her soul against the hatred making Branwyn lash out.
"I am sorry for your loss. I truly am, as are the other druids. Branwyn, his death was not in vein. Our lives are not planned out and you know better than to lash out in hatred. You will meet again."
Branwyn looked up at the sky, wondering when Cara would stop preaching. "Leave me! I just want to be alone."
Cara could see the tears streaming down her face and looked at Branwyn, trying to think of ways to comfort her, but it was impossible. What she was about to tell the girl was not going to comfort her. "I was given a message for you. You are chosen to be immortal, to preserve the ancient ways. The gods feel times are moving quickly with the recent invasions. You are strong enough to keep the old ways alive."
Branwyn looked up in disgust. "How dare they do this to me! You are telling me I can't die?"
Cara nodded slowly, knowing Branwyn was drawing upon the last of her reserves. "It's a gift from the druids and gods for serving us faithfully."
Branwyn stood in rage and lifted her hands to the sky. "This is no gift! To watch clansmen die is a curse. To be immortal is a curse!"
"It is too late. I understand what you feel…but…” Cara faltered even while trying to understand this saddened warrior, and it seemed her stuttering only made matters worse.
"No! Tell the gods to choose someone else! I refuse and if they will not change it. I will kill myself," Branwyn threatened, standing abruptly.
Cara looked down at her solemnly. If she could only understand what is to happen. But it was time for her to learn.
"I am sorry, Branwyn. You cannot change it or refuse it. It is done. Accept it," Cara said as her voice shifted and her body began to fade.
Branwyn found herself on the grass, lying down as the heartless world spun around. She felt dizzy so she closed her eyes. The next thing she felt was a cold cloth on her forehead. Malik, the last of the many tribal leaders, was next to her.
"Finally, you've awakened. I thought I lost you. I found you in the forest. I thought you were injured or trying to kill yourself." Branwyn slowly pulled herself up. She sat up then, removing the damp cloth.
She was at home and in her bed. "I thank you for bringing me here." Malik watched as she sat staring out the door. Children had already begun to play outside. Malik knew something was wrong. Branwyn was so easy to read and since he knew her through her family, he had to help.
"What happened out there?" he questioned as he watched her get up and begin pacing back and fourth.
"The druids and gods have made me immortal and expect me to preserve their ways. I cannot watch my clansmen die! This is unbearable," she shouted at him.
"I'm sorry but… Branwyn, listen, you have been given a gift to make sure our culture lives. Many would have taken that challenge gladly."
Branwyn was only more enraged. It was as if everyone had decided to forget her problems.
"No, Malik, I'm not like everyone! I have lost enough, but to be made immortal, without even being asked…”
Malik arose and placed both hands on her shoulders, looking into her dark and mysterious eyes. He now knew what Eavan had seen in them--their beauty, intelligence, and love.
"You must be calm, young one. In death we will always be together. When you hear the wind or birds singing, know that it is your clan guiding you."
She hugged him in a tight embrace. "I never wanted this gift." Tears flowed freely down her face.
"I know," he responded.
* * * *
From the next morning, everything was different. Branwyn noticed how time was going faster. There was one death after another; everyone moved on—except her. She seemed to just stand there letting the world revolve around her.
Branwyn watched as everyone in turn aged and died and she could not. She saw everything and it seemed not to affect her, and yet it did. As the clan got older, Branwyn began to teach the younger Celts their history. She remained in the same home and one day young Tielo was there helping with her daily chores.
"Branwyn, where do you want these books? They are
awfully heavy." He grunted as he pulled them down on the floor with another stack of books.
"Tielo, you are strong. Books are no heavier then the burden we all carry upon us as people," Branwyn responded gently. He sat on the chair staring at her and she sat as well. Perhaps he didn't understand what she meant. He was about the age she had been when she found out about her betrothal and learned more about life.
"Branwyn, I have no burden. I am young and free." She smiled as he fumbled with his fingers. She had taught him better. He knew better than to say he was free.
"Tielo, you have duties to your clan. As did I when I was your age and now…” Her voice trailed off.
Tielo nodded. "I understand. To be an immortal is not an easy task. I'm sorry that you have to endure it."
His comfort could only make her smile. "Aye, there is no need to be sorry. I know my purpose now and I must see it through. There will come a day when I can rest." Tielo looked down, embarrassed, and his cheeks were bright. He was blushing; Branwyn laughed softly to herself. " I see you think about the betrothal; you are of age now. It is nothing to be ashamed of. Be yourself."
He smiled at her; she always knew what to say when he needed it.
"Now off with you. You come by tomorrow at the same time." He hurried off and ran out the door. She watched him as he ran with his sword by his side, fast as he could. Tielo had such a free spirit and it shone through him. His life force emanated from him, reminding her of her youth. Branwyn had not aged one bit, but she felt so old. Two hundred years had passed and already it seemed like an eternity. What was an eternity? Was it eternity to her because Eavan was no longer with her? It was as if her body had become numb…like she just fled through time, feeling nothing. She knew this wasn't true; she shouldn’t feel guilty. Although it seemed like Time was going too quickly, she had adapted.
She felt it throughout her body---something was coming, quickly. Branwyn knew she had to be ready.
1220 AD, Ireland
Lord Devin saw that his wife had wakened. He smiled, caressing her face.
"You have awakened, Lady Branwyn . . ."
She noticed for the first time that she was in a large stone castle. A dim light came into focus in her mind as she realized she couldn’t betray her confusion. So she got up and smiled at her lord, who took her hand and kissed her. She couldn’t help stepping back, looking at him awkwardly.
"You do not recognize your own spouse?" Coming close, he offered his hand. Unaccustomed to her surroundings, Branwyn could only stare at him.
"I am sorry. I am just not myself today, my lord. Please leave me." She asked it kindly, hoping that he would leave the room. It all seemed weird, almost as if she had foreknowledge, but it was so confusing. How would she ever get used to this?
He left, closing the door as she sat back down on the bed, staring at her dress. It was long, and beautiful. Her black hair was in one full, luxurious braid. Her gown was a bright blue with green lining, very different from Celtic warrior clothing. The only thing she recognized was the necklace around her neck—given to her by Eavan--a Celtic medallion with horses going in a circular pattern, with some weave work on it. It symbolized creation. She then saw that her sword and necklace were the only things she had left from her previous life. And then to make her confusion still more profound, she was led by a dutiful servant down to the lord’s room, where he was sitting on his bed.
He came up to her, hugging her. "I trust that you are feeling well?" With his hands still on her shoulders, he looked deep within her eyes.
"Yes, My Lord. I am perfectly all right," Branwyn said softly.
She smiled at him as they embraced once more. There was a brief loud noise, but they paid no attention until a young man came in.
"Lord Devin, soldiers are rallying against the castle!"
"Get the knights! Tell them what is happening!"
The squire left at a run, going to the knights. They were in the dining chamber, eating and talking amongst themselves, but at the squire’s alert they ran for their weapons. From his chamber, Lord Devin and Branwyn could hear the pounding of footsteps and the rattle of mail.
"I must help you fight!" she said, looking out the huge window and seeing the enemy approach.
"No! Absolutely not! You are to stay here!" he said in a demanding tone, clearly fearful for her safety.
"No! I say I will fight and I will." Undeterred, Branwyn picked up a sword which seemed like one made for a young squire.
Leaving the chamber before he could stop her, she ran for her horse, riding out with the knights, fighting bravely against the enemy…as bravely as she had once before, a long time ago. Never forgetting Eavan and her clansmen, she knew what she had to do. Yet even as Lord Devin was winning the battle, she disappeared into Time once more.
1776, Britain
Through time once more she has appeared. She is now in different attire. She cannot help but look around her and now she knows she is no longer in Ireland. She is walking through the streets of a great empire. Curious, she then comes up to a young boy with newspapers in his hand and hands him some money. The young boy takes it and smiles at her graciously. She smiles as he gives her the newspaper. She looks at the date and it says 1776. She has traveled through many periods of time. She knows that she has to do something here to move on to her next life. Everything is going too fast for her.
But she remembers what Cara told her, which was to accept it and move on. Now that's what she has to do, and move on wherever the next time warp takes her. She then sees a beautiful palace decorated in gold and silver and heads straight toward it. The palace guards let her in and one guard escorts her to the throne room. There by the throne is Prince Darius with his father, King Edward. Darius is a young, handsome man who is heir to the throne and is soon to be married. Branwyn has been brought in before the two men. Prince Darius runs up to her and hugs her. She hugs him back and they kiss.
"My love! I told you not to leave the palace; women are not fit to defend themselves." He holds her tightly in his arms.
"Princess Branwyn of Eire, what a beautiful young woman you are," says King Edward, complimenting her.
"Thank you, Your Highness." She smiles and nods her head in a bow towards the King.
The prince agrees and nods in approval.
"Yes, she is the most beautiful woman I've ever met."
Branwyn blushes and smiles at Prince Darius. They are to be married. Branwyn sees him as a lovable and generous man. Prince Darius walks towards and holds her shoulders.
" Branwyn, please don't go out there. I fear for you."
"Darius, understand that I can protect myself. I have the proper training."
"Know this, Branwyn, I love you and I don't want to lose you. You are no longer are on Eire; you don't need to fight," young Darius says to her, trying to make her understand their customs. Branwyn can't help but speak her mind. She has always felt the need to do so. No one can stop her from doing and saying things she wants to say.
"I am no coward to let another fight and possibly die for me. I uphold my traditions that are from Eire, no matter where I am. I thought you understood this, but I was wrong," she says courageously.
Branwyn leaves the room as Darius tries to grab at her. It's too late, though; she has gone to her room. She sits down on her blue, silky canopy bed. She still has the necklace Eavan gave to her, her sword which seems to travel through Time with her, and her chest full of items. In this time she is with Darius, who resembles Eavan in every aspect, but she is not in love with him. She thinks of him as a mere acquaintance. She lies back, thinking about Eavan and their times together.
"Eavan . . ." she sighs, her eyes closing.
She thinks back to when they were in bed together. Eavan was sitting up, gazing at her as they spoke. He kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair. She kissed him gently. It was the night before the battle--that dreadful battle.
"Eavan, do you think we will beat the Romans? They are as fierc
e as we are. They want to take our home," she wondered as she caressed his face.
"Aye, of course we will beat those Romans. Our clan is strong. We will make it. Branwyn, I've been meaning to ask you something . . ." he said softly into her ear.
"Yes? You know you can ask anything of me."
He then straightened the blanket, pulling himself closer to her. He caressed her face, smiling at her, and she smiled back.
"I want to marry you, Branwyn. Will you--"
"Yes, of course I will marry you, Eavan." She cut him off, pulling his face closer to hers until he kissed her passionately. It was then that they began to make love.
She wakes now and sits up on her bed, crying. She misses Eaven so much, she wishes now that she was with him. Yet she knows she must calm herself and remember what Cara told her. She can't change the past but must move on to the future. And so she leaves quickly for the throne room, where she finds Prince Darius and his father are being held captive. She had heard a scream but ignored it at first; she has taken her sword with her. She draws it as the henchmen come after her—enemies of the king. She fights them long and hard, trying to protect him and Darius, but one of the henchmen grabs Darius and slits his throat. Branwyn screams in horror.
"No!" She yells at the top of her lungs as she runs to him, plunging her sword deep in his gut. But it is too late for Prince Darius.
Present Day
She went through many times, different places; many died and many she loved. She always kept Eavan in her heart. Cara is her guide through all of this, as she goes into each place and time. She learns and acquires knowledge as she goes.
Destined ~ A Time Travel Anthology Page 10
