Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy)

by Melissa Sasina

  Úna nodded mutely.

  “I’m sure, once I have become settled in, my cousin’s concerns for me will lessen,” continued Shiovra. “Do not fret and give him some time.”

  A small smile crossed Úna’s lips. Returning to the cauldron hanging over the fire, she dipped a finger into the water. Nodding to herself, she grabbed a deep basin sitting on a table near the fire and dipped it into the water. “Close your eyes,” she instructed as she returned to the priestess’ side.

  As soon as Shiovra closed her eyes, she felt the sudden rush of warmth as water was pored over her. She remained unmoving as she heard Úna move around her before another bout of water flowed across her bare skin.

  “All done,” Úna said cheerfully.

  Opening her eyes, Shiovra rose to her feet, ringing the water from her hair while Úna proceeded to dry her off. The priestess could feel Úna’s hesitation before the woman finally spoke up.

  “Forgive me if this out of place…but Lord Mahon seemed rather upset…” Úna said quietly.

  Shiovra found herself pausing, her fingers stopping midway through her hair. “No, not out of place,” she murmured. “For my brother, my leaving of Tara ten years ago to train was like turning my back on him.” A short laugh passed her lips. “And…he has every right to feel that way.”

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  Mahon paced the main cottage, hardly noticing how cold his wet clothes felt upon his skin after having run through the heavy rain. His mind lingered on his reunion with his sister, of all the questions that remained unanswered. Yet, three days later, he found he was hesitant to ask them. He had, of course, plenty occasions to do just that, but each time he found his voice would not come.

  “Mahon, if you keep pacing, you shall wear a rut in the floor and I do not believe Ainmire would like that too much,” Daire said sternly.

  Pausing by the fire, Mahon met Daire’s gaze. He had completely forgotten his cousin was there and regarded him silently a moment.

  Daire sat leaning against a support post with his arms crossed. “The two of you have been avoiding each other for three days now, like stubborn children,” he muttered. “You have waited ten years to see her, stop hiding from her.”

  “I’m not hiding” retorted Mahon. “I just…do not want to end up pushing her away.” He exhaled heavily and let himself fall onto a bench. “It’s been ten years, Daire. Ten years that I have missed. My mind still sees the little girl she was, but my eyes see a woman who is a stranger to me. What happened in those ten years I missed that made her who she is?”

  Daire shifted, stretching his back a bit, and then questioned, “How do you remember her?”

  Thinking a moment, Mahon replied with a smile, “Stubborn. Utterly and completely stubborn. A girl who had a strong will and fiery spirit. A girl with more determination then I could possibly ever imagine.” He shook his head. “Did I mention stubborn?” he repeated with a hint of laughter.

  Daire grinned. “She is still the sister you know, Mahon, only a woman instead of a child,” he said reassuringly. “A stubborn, willful, and defiant woman.”

  Mahon remained quiet.

  “Shiovra will be assuming her duties as High Priestess soon, and then there is the betrothal…would it not be better to put the past behind you and help carry her burdens?” asked Daire calmly.

  Mahon sighed in defeat. He hated to admit when Daire was correct. “You speak true.” With a groan, he rubbed his face. “This betrothal…I understand it is for alliance, but it does not sit well with me.” Mahon lowered his hands, shaking his head. “The Milidh clan is the enemy; their very presence threatens our rule of Éire. And my sister is to marry one of them…” He did not try to hide the anger in his voice. “Both Ainmire and Ceallach have reassured me this is for the best, but I am wary to believe thus.”

  “Understandable,” replied Daire with a short nod.

  Leaning forward, Mahon met Daire’s gaze firmly. “Until this Milidh clan proves their untainted want of alliance, I want you to guard my sister when I cannot,” he said. “Ainmire and Ceallach may leap eagerly at this claim of alliance; I am not so easily swayed.”

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  Leaving the high fort, Shiovra made her way to a small hut in which a shrine to the Great Mother Dana stood. Stepping inside, she looked around to find she was alone. Torches lit the tiny hut with dancing light and in the center, a wooden statue of a woman stood holding a large basin in which swirling waters had been carved. Upon the basin, several offerings had been left, as well as some which lay strewn at the statues bare feet.

  Shiovra stepped up to the statue and placed a small fractured crystal among the other offerings. Kneeling down, she closed her eyes and held her hands out in open invitation.

  “Hail, Guardian of the watchtower of the east, powers of air and intuition, I greet thee now, in perfect love and perfect trust,” she murmured softly. “Hail, Guardian of the watchtower of the north, powers of Mother and earth, I greet thee now in perfect love and perfect trust.” Shiovra gathered the energies swirling around her as she chanted. “Hail, Guardian of the watchtower of the south, powers of fire and feeling, I greet thee now in perfect love and perfect trust. Hail, Guardian of the watchtower of the west, powers of water and intervention, I greet thee now in perfect love and perfect trust. Hail to Dana, Mother of the Túath. Dana of the Light and Danu of Darkness. I greet thee now in perfect love and perfect trust.”

  A strong breeze ripped in through the open door, swirling around her and whispering to her. The earth beneath Shiovra’s knees trembled ever so lightly. She could feel warmth all around, dancing wild and free. Water crept up from beneath the statue’s feet, pooling slightly.

  “I beseech thee, Guardian of air, to guide me through the darkness and watch over me,” Shiovra continued, titling her head back slightly and raising her arms above her head. “I beseech thee, Guardian of earth, to guide me through the darkness and watch over me. I beseech thee, Guardian of fire, to guide me through the darkness and watch over me. I beseech thee, Guardian of water, to guide me through the darkness and watch over me.” She could feel a great power swelling within her. “In the shadows, evil hides, ready to draw me from love’s side. But with thy help I shall be strong against those who would do me wrong. May thee send chosen warriors my way, to keep lurking evil at bay. So mote it be.”

  Pausing a moment, Shiovra took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I beseech thee, Great Mother, to guide me through the darkness and watch over me,” she said steadily. “Be with me now and guide my hand as I serve the people of this village, in accordance to thy will. So mote it be.”

  Shiovra turned her hands so that her palms faced the ground and slowly lowered her arms. “I thank thee, Guardian of air, for joining me. Go if thee must, stay if thou like. Hail and farewell,” she continued. “I thank thee, Guardian of earth, for joining me. Go if thee must, stay if thou like. Hail and farewell. I thank thee, Guardian of fire, for joining me. Go if thee must, stay if thou like. Hail and farewell. I thank thee, Guardian of water, for joining me. Go if thee must, stay if thou like. Hail and farewell.”

  The whispering breeze slipped away, returning to its gentle dance. The earth beneath her knees calmed, no longer humming beneath her. Warmth lingered, becoming tame. And the water around the statue’s feet seeped slowly into the earth.

  Bring her hands together, the priestess offered a few last words, “Oh, gentle Mother, I thank thee for joining me. May I serve thee well and true. Go if thee must, stay if thou like. Merry part.” Lowering her hands to her lap, Shiovra sighed and sat in silence for some time, feeling the energies around her subside.

  Suddenly, the feeling of being watch washed over the priestess.

  Her eyes snapped open and she rose slowly to her feet, turning to face whoever intruded upon the ritual.

  The torches had been snuffed out, leaving only the sunlight coming through the open door to light the small hut.

  A man stood leaning against th
e wall beside the door, arms crossed over his chest. Light from the doorway reached to his shoulders, but left his face in shadow. Yet something told Shiovra that this was the same man from the Banqueting House, Odhrán of the Milidh clan.

  In the light, she could see the marking on his wrist better: a long serpentine dragon whose body intertwined with it. He stood in complete silence, unmoving.

  She watched him with careful and scrutinizing eyes, and was sure that he returned that very same gaze. The priestess could feel his gaze on her, piercing and filling her with unease. Shiovra’s entire body tensed

  Then, abruptly, as she opened her mouth to speak, he uncrossed his arms, turned, and walked silently from the hut.

  Shiovra released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her heart pounded. Daire had warned her to be wary of him, and true to his warning, the Milidh man had slipped into the cottage during the ritual without her noticing. Anger boiled within her as she wondered just how Ainmire could condone allowing that man to walk so freely among their village. It was his clan, after all, who had taken her mother from her when she was a child; a woman who was also kin to Ainmire himself. Shiovra simply could not understand it. Yet with her anger also came the grief she had pushed aside ten years ago.

  Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, Shiovra stepped from the hut only to find Mahon and Daire waiting for her.

  A surprised paused was brought to her step.

  “Are you all right?” Mahon pressed anxiously, his eyes shifting away, narrowing coldly on something off down the path.

  Shiovra followed his gaze and found what had garnered his interest. All she saw was a man’s back retreating away from them. “Aye…” she muttered watching as Odhrán walked away. “I am fine.” The priestess turned back to her brother. “Mahon…I…,” she began.

  “Forgive me,” he interrupted. “I was being a fool, pushing you away when I should have welcomed you with open arms.”

  The priestess found she was momentarily stunned by his words and she found herself faltering to reply.

  “When you left Tara, with hardly a second glance back, I felt like you had turned you back on me,” admitted Mahon. “I allowed my anger at mother’s death and your departure get the better of me for ten years. I had no desire for you to become the High Priestess, I loathed the thought greatly. Ceallach’s words would not sway me. And for that, our reunion was not as joyful as it should have been. Please, forgive me.”

  Shiovra smiled, fighting back the sting of tears trying to form. “We are both at fault,” she said gently. “I regret the manner in which I left, but I do not regret becoming the High Priestess of this village. Yet, due to my choice, what should have been a merry meeting became a meeting of harsh lectures.” A small laugh swelled within her, but it was quickly pushed aside. “I would like you to understand that this is not something I can run away from. What kind of priestess would I be if I turned away? How would that look in the eyes of the villagers we are in charge of protecting? We are the clan. They look to us for protection and guidance. I will not turn my back on them. And neither should you.”

  Mahon was silent a moment, then asked, “Will you make me a promise?”

  Shiovra meet his gaze.

  “You have been seen by the Milidh clan outside this village, Daire told me thus,” he said, voice hard. “They will begin to hunt you. I want you to promise me, that no matter what happens, you will do all in you power to survive.”

  A slight smile touched Shiovra’s face and she nodded. “You have my vow, brother.”

  “Thank you,” Mahon replied with great relief. He looked her over briefly. “How is your wound? Does it heal well?”

  “Aye, though it may leave its mark upon me as a reminder,” she replied, her hand slipping to her side where bandages lay hidden beneath her clothing. Though the wound no longer ached, the memory of the Milidh man’s crazed gaze lingered painfully in her mind. “That man…Árdal…he was mad.”

  Daire nodded in agreement. “We need to be wary,” he said in a low voice. “There could be an attack upon the village.”

  Mahon’s face hardened. “We should speak of this elsewhere,” he suggested, gesturing towards the High fort. “We cannot be sure that the enemy doesn’t already have eyes in this village.”

  Shiovra though instantly of Odhrán. She did not know much of the Milidh man, only that each time she’d seen him, he had been watching. Following her brother and cousin up the path to the high fort and onward to the main cottage.

  Mahon pushed open the wicker door-lintel and stepped aside, allowing Daire and Shiovra to duck inside before following himself.

  The cottage was large with wicker-work screens hanging between each of the inner and outer support posts, portioning off the outer ring. Within the sections were bedding, supplies, and piles of wood. A hearth lined with stones stood in the center of the cottage, an empty pot hanging over it and benches surrounding it. Close to the hearth stood a low table scattered with wooden bowls and earthen cups. A thick fur pelt covered the bench beside the table and some plainly woven cloth hung between posts, hiding the beds

  Yet what caught Shiovra’s attention the most was a very familiar loom leaning against a support post. The wood was well worn and a partially woven cloth sat ready to be finished. The priestess ran her fingers down the side of the loom, taking in every nick in the wood. It was the same as it had been ten years ago. The loom had once been her mother’s.

  “The Milidh clan already have a foot in this village,” muttered Daire angrily, pulling Shiovra from her memories.

  “Odhrán?” asked Shiovra, dropping her hand and turning to her cousin. “You believe he may have been sent to watch us? To learn our weaknesses and such?”

  Daire nodded. “Aye.”

  “Odhrán…is from the Milidh clan of Dún Fiáin.”

  Shiovra looked at her brother curiously.

  Mahon crouched down beside the dwindling fire in the hearth, poking at it with a stick. “He was sent here by the chieftain of Dún Fiáin to guard you, Shiovra, and ensure that you fulfill the betrothal agreement when the time comes,” he admitted in a low voice.

  “To guard me?” protested Shiovra angrily.

  Nodding, Mahon sat the stick down and continued, “Ceallach informed me that when you returned to Tara, Odhrán was to serve as your guardian warrior.” He exhaled, running his hands through his hair. “I protested the decision, but Ainmire informed me it was for the sake of the alliance. I cannot go against him.”

  “How are we to know that Odhrán isn’t a dagger waiting to strike?!” demanded Daire. “Are we to believe that the Milidh clan of Dún Fiáin is so concerned for Shiovra’s safety that they sent was warrior to protect her?!”

  Mahon held a hand up. “I have tried to reason with Ainmire, but he will not listen,” he said. “All we can do is watch for any hint that would betray ill intentions.”

  “I do not like this in the least,” Daire muttered.

  “Lord Mahon?” came a tentative voice. A young boy stood looking shyly into the cottage. “Lord Ainmire wishes to speak with you.”

  “Aye,” he told the boy. His eyes turned back to his sister, “Keep a wary eye out when Odhrán is near. We cannot be too sure what he may be thinking.” Turning back to the boy, he left the cottage.

  Shiovra moved to stand in the doorway, watching as her brother walked away. Though she had left Rúnda on her own terms and had been discovered by one of the Milidh clan, she knew that if she had remained and left on Réalta’s conditions, she would have still be found out eventually. It would not be long before the enemy started to hunt her.

  Sighing, the priestess leaned in the doorway, running her fingers along her side. The wound she had received would serve as a warning, reminding her that she could have easily lost her life that day. Since her arrival to Tara, Shiovra learned of attacks on villages where a priestess resided, a few had even lost their lives. It was a cruel tactic to cripple the strength of the villag
e by removing the power and influence the priestess held sway over.

  Shiovra glanced down, her eyes trailing over the blue woad markings covering her left arm. She was marked, as Daire had put it, evermore to be known by both ally and enemy. Shiovra did not doubt her own strength and skill, but if she was to survive, she would need trusted warriors at her side.

  A gentle breeze drifted into the cottage, brushing past her, whispering and calling to her.

  Following the wind, Shiovra turned to see her cousin standing before her. The breeze danced around Daire, lingering as it circled him, before drifting back out the door. Shiovra’s lips parted as she regarded Daire for a moment. The words passed her lips before she realized she was speaking them, “Hail to the chosen warrior of the east, by the power of air, I greet thee.”

  A smile touched his lips as her caught her hand up within his own and brought it to his lips. “Merry meet, my priestess,” he murmured when he lowered her hand. “You shall always have my bow on your side.”

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  A feast was held at the Banqueting House, celebrating midsummer. A piece of white cloth had been draped upon a makeshift altar which was adorned with small wooden statues of Dana, the Great mother, and the Dagda, the horned father. The supporting posts to the banqueting hall had been decorated with fresh herbs. Many of the villagers had gathered for drinking and dancing while a lively melody was played by the bards’.

  Ainmire, though still grieving over the loss of Deirdre and his child, attended the celebration with a small smile playing across his lips. Mahon sat at his side, keeping a careful eye on his sister and any who came near the priestess.

  Shiovra, having been garbed in a pale blue, open sleeved shift, sat between Daire and Mahon. She glanced at her brother from the corner of her eye as he spoke to Ainmire, a smile on his lips. A smile of her own crossed her lips when Mahon started laughing. She was glad to see her brother in higher spirits.