Oath of a Warrior

by Mary Morgan

  Chapter Four

  “Keep your sight upon the stars and not the path in front of you. Stars are constant, but the ground is ever changing.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Village of Lindane, Loch Etive, West Coast of Scotland, October 1605

  “For the love of the Goddess!” protested Erina, watching as the droplets of blood splattered across the white sleeve of her chemise, leaving a blotched pattern. Studying the odd shape, she swallowed. Was this a portent of ill tidings? Was the Goddess warning her? Her recent troubles followed her as surely as the river behind her cottage flowed toward the sea. She grasped the amethyst pendant hanging from her neck. The stone was cool and calming within her palm. Tossing aside the tremor of unease, she shook her head. Today was not one to dwell on what had yet to come.

  Lifting her hand away from the spinning wheel, she let out a frustrated sigh. “I should have used the small dealgan to spin the wool.” Glaring at the monster spinning wheel in front of her, she added, “’Tis much quicker with the old ways.”

  Standing, Erina reached for a cloth and wrapped her finger. Making her way toward her worktable, she poured water into a bowl. Removing the wrapping from her hand, she plunged her hand into the cool liquid and gazed outward into her garden. Sunlight danced along the fringes. Violets, foxglove, and bluebells waved in greeting coached by the morning breeze. Birds chirped in a nearby rowan tree, content to feed on the berries that were plentiful during the autumn months. And her faithful companion, Thane, was sprawled out among the wildflowers, sunning himself. Even her dog knew enough to be outdoors in the warm sun.

  She sighed heavily. The land beckoned her to come and play. Yet, there were other pressing issues than tending to her garden. Betty Timmons required the spun wool today in exchange for fresh bread, dried beef, and other food supplies. Glancing over at her meager pantry, her stomach protested. If she did not get the wool to the woman soon, Erina would have to be content with the wild mushrooms, onions, and nuts for her daily meals. Her garden might be filled with herbs, but not vegetables or grain.

  Removing her hand, she quickly inspected the injury and deemed it minor. Reaching for some fresh comfrey, Erina placed the leaves over her wound. Time was precious, and she had no desire to waste a single minute, even to properly boil the comfrey leaves. Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled down a box with fresh linen bandages. Pulling one forth, she quickly bandaged her hand.

  Stretching out the ache in her shoulders, she padded back to her spinning wheel. No sooner did she begin than a pitiful bleating echoed outside. Grumbling a curse, she marched outside.

  Thane was the first to greet her in excitable barking as he circled around her.

  “Aye, ye can stop your barking,” commanded Erina, moving past the animal.

  Three of her precious sheep had managed to escape from their pen and were helping themselves to her garden of herbs, and another was wedged between the gates. “Sweet Brigid! How did ye get out?”

  The sheep’s mournful protests continued as Erina approached the trapped animal. Uttering soothing words, she rubbed its head. “Ye have no one to blame but yourself, Tam. This is the third time ye have escaped. Ye should not have strayed with the others. Did your allies find a way to lift the latch, or is someone playing a malicious prank?” Freeing the animal, she directed it back inside.

  Turning around, she gave a sharp whistle. Thane instantly reacted and charged toward the three intruders in her precious garden. “Bring them onward,” she instructed.

  Watching as the dog went after the sheep, Erina kept a watchful eye on all concerned. It took several attempts, as the animals considered their fare was far more important. Yet, with stealthlike moves, Thane maneuvered the sheep back inside the enclosure. Securing the latch in place, Erina bent and ruffled the fur of her faithful friend. “Well done, Thane.”

  The dog gave a sharp bark and then turned a critical eye toward the sheep.

  “Aye, I cannot fathom the reason, or who is setting them free.” Erina leaned against the gate, observing the animals. Two out of her dozen of sheep were still missing, and she noted another one was gone. “’Tis the third time this month.” She glanced at her companion. “Did ye not hear anything, Thane? I swear the thieving is increasing with each passing month.”

  The animal plopped down at her feet with a heavy sigh.

  “Och, dearest, I ken ye dinnae hear so well.” She bent to give the dog another pat behind the ears. Her heart ached realizing her beloved friend was aging. At ten winters, the dog had surely lost most of his hearing. However, his stamina was strong, and he roamed the hills with Erina often when she let her sheep graze on the southern pastures.

  “Come the morn, we shall search for the others. I have nae time today.” Erina glanced at the dog. “Guard them well,” she whispered.

  ****

  Securing the leather satchel filled with the spun wool, Erina reached for her plaid shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. Saying a silent prayer Betty would be happy with the quantity, she made her way out of the cottage. Thane was settled in the cool shade of a rowan tree next to the sheep, and Erina smiled.

  Entering her small stable, she placed the satchel over the back of the horse. “’Tis a fine day, Oberon. Do ye fancy a ride?”

  The horse let out a soft whinny.

  “I am shocked by your reaction, my friend.” Stroking his mane, she added, “I would have expected a louder response, considering we shall be returning with carrots, and mayhap a turnip or two.”

  Oberon stomped the ground with his hoof, and shook his silky mane.

  She laughed and patted his nose. “Ahh…much better.”

  Upon leaving the stable, Erina let the horse set his own pace. Breathing deeply, she relaxed and took in the blazing autumn colors that greeted her. Too soon winter would show her face and all traces of this beauty would vanish. If she did not prepare for the hardship the Cailleach brought, Erina would have no food or peat for her hearth.

  Spring and summer should have been a bountiful one for her. Yet, the villagers were arriving less each season on her doorstep. Rarely did anyone seek her out for a simple love charm, or an herbal remedy to help in healing or sickness. Nae. Ever since the new king ascended the throne a few years ago, rumors circulated throughout the land he would reform the two countries. People became fearful, recalling the past burning of witches. Though there had been two years of peace, many judged it wise to keep away from Erina.

  Aye, they treated her with respect, and there were those who continued to practice the old ways, but times were changing—bringing about an order of yet another religious belief.

  “If only ye were here to give me counsel, Grandmother,” she uttered softly. Straightening her shoulders, she let out a nervous laugh. “Ye would have tilted my chin up and reminded me of my blessings.”

  Maneuvering Oberon over the hill, Erina banished the negative thoughts. The Goddess had always looked after her, so there was no reason for her to dwell on unsettling thoughts. She did manage to have a few loyal to her healing ways, and there was always a demand for her services when a bairn was making its way into the world. Furthermore, Betty Timmons still required her wool.

  As Betty’s cottage emerged through the heavy pines, Erina dismounted and led the animal to the river. Giving him a firm pat, she removed her satchel and walked up the incline to the cottage.

  Betty greeted her at the entrance, a frown marring her features, and her hands clasped firmly together. Oh, Goddess, please spare me from an entire afternoon listening to her bantering about men.

  Giving her best smile to the woman, Erina reached outward. “Greetings, Betty. ’Tis a fine day, aye?”

  Glancing quickly around, Betty pulled Erina inside the cottage and swiftly closed the door. “Nae,” she sobbed out and collapsed onto a chair by the hearth.

  Erina let out a sigh and placed the satchel on the table. “Can ye share your troubles?”

  Tears flowed freely down Betty’s
cheeks. “Fergus will not speak with me.”

  “Can ye tell me why?” Erina pulled a nearby chair closer to the woman.

  Betty snorted in disgust. “Because I refuse to let him kiss me a third time!” She held up three fingers to stress her words.

  “I thought ye were interested in Robert Innes?”

  The woman looked aghast, and wiped the tears from her face with her smock. “Goodness, that was several weeks ago. He had the most unpleasant odor.”

  “My apologies. I had forgotten.” Of course I have not seen ye for some time. “Continue.”

  Her lip trembled. “I ken I am in love with Fergus.” She clutched a hand to her chest. “He is the man I wish to marry. But I will not behave in a wanton manner.”

  As if ye have not done so already? Erina cleared her throat. “Have ye told him how ye feel?”

  Shock replaced sorrow, and Betty squared her shoulders. “Why would I do such a thing? The man must declare his position first.”

  Erina nodded slowly. “Ye are correct.”

  “Aye. Ye cannot understand, since no man has come calling at your door.” Betty regarded her coolly. “Why look at your clothing. Blood and dirt are smeared everywhere, and your hair is as wild as the grasses that cover the nearby hills.”

  Please help me to curb my tongue, Goddess, and temper the growing fury toward this woman. “If ye must ken, I pricked my hand on the spinning wheel this morn and had to rescue sheep that escaped from their pen. Pray forgive my appearance.”

  Betty shrugged.

  Determined to avoid any more questions about her looks, Erina asked, “Have ye spoken with your mother regarding this matter with Fergus?”

  “Erina MacIntyre, I’m stunned ye would ask. Ye ken how my parents have nae wish to see me marry a Campbell. My father would be furious.” Betty leaned forward as if departing a great secret. “Ye will not speak of this to them. And I have a request for ye.”

  Erina reached for the woman’s hand. “I give ye my promise. I have never spoken of our conversations with anyone.”

  Betty smiled knowingly. “We keep our secrets tucked within, aye?”

  Releasing her hand, Erina sensed a cold prickle of warning. “’Tis nae secrets, Betty, only visits between friends.”

  Betty gave her smug look. “Ye cannot fool me.”

  Folding her hands in her lap, Erina asked, “What is your request?”

  Tears shimmered once again in the woman’s eyes. “I must have my Fergus and ye will help me.”

  “How?” demanded Erina.

  Standing, Betty went and retrieved a basket from the table. Placing the item beside Erina, she pulled forth a tiny package. “This is a lock of Fergus’ hair. I wish to have ye make a love charm. I will give ye food from our larder ’til the next moon.”

  Erina eyed the full basket of food. If she refused, Betty might take back everything. Or worse, never seek her out for anything again.

  Standing, Erina held out her hand. “If I do this, ye must honor the Fae by not speaking where ye came upon this love charm. Furthermore, ye must not be troubled if the charm fails to work on Fergus. The man might believe in the new religion, therefore making it impossible for him to be swayed. Remember, only those with a true heart can fall under a Fae love charm.” Knowing how the woman regarded the Good Folk in high esteem, Erina believed in a favorable response to her demands.

  Betty grasped Erina’s hands, crushing the package. “Ye have my solemn vow I will follow your instructions. I only want his love.” Releasing her, she picked up the basket and handed it to Erina.

  “Thank ye, Betty.” Moving toward the door, Erina paused. “Love can be lacking in harmony, Betty. If ye do love Fergus, think on your plan. Do ye not deem it wiser to let him come to ye without a charm?”

  “Nae. There is no other alternative.”

  Erina nodded. “Come to my cottage on the eve of the full moon.”

  “I shall,” she promised.

  Quickly departing the cottage, Erina couldn’t get her feet to move fast enough. Even though she was grateful for the food and more to come, her nerves bristled with uneasiness. Never before had any of her love charms failed, but that did nothing to halt the flood of misgivings about fulfilling Betty’s wish to have Fergus.

  Halting before the river’s edge, Erina looked outward. “Guide my heart, my hands, and my words, dear Good Folk.” Setting down the basket, she pulled out a small bun. Tearing it into pieces, Erina scattered them across the land. “Blessings to ye, my friends.” After brushing the crumbs from her hands, Erina secured everything to Oberon and grabbed the reins.

  She wandered slowly, judging it best to follow the path along the river. The journey back to her cottage would take longer, but she was in no hurry. The land called out to her, and Erina responded by banishing all negative thoughts and focusing on the items she would require for Betty’s love charm.

  “’Tis a shame ye cannot wait for love’s first blossom to unfurl, Betty,” she whispered.

  Love! The emotion was foreign to her. Betty was correct. She’d never had a man court her. Nae. There were those who had attempted to steal kisses, but feared she would curse them after she scorned them with a tongue-lashing. In addition, what man would want to hold hands with her? Most days they were covered with the scent of her herbs. Or yet, grime from digging in the garden. Aye, her hair was unmanageable, but did not her grandmother say the color was rare and cherished among the Fae. “Humph!”

  Therefore, the seasons blurred into the next without a man seeking her out.

  Erina touched her lips. What would it be like to taste a man?

  Lost in her thoughts, she tripped over a tree root and fell into a gorse bush.

  “Bloody hell,” she muttered, attempting to pull herself out of the golden flowers. Her horse let out a snort. Wiping her nose, she glanced over her shoulder at Oberon. “Ye are fortunate I did not land in nettles, or ye would have to suffer my complaints.”

  Gruff noises halted any further discussion with her horse. Shaking out her gown, Erina made her way slowly to the men arguing beyond the bend in the trees. Crouching down against a large pine, she observed the group. Four of the men she did not recognize, but the young lad was Thomas Dunlop from her village. Obviously, they were attempting to take what little food the lad had in his possession. Taunts and barbs continued to be tossed at him. Either he surrendered his leather bag, or they would be forced to draw their blades.

  “Overbearing brutes,” she hissed out.

  Pulling forth her sgian dubh from her boots, Erina tucked the blade inside her belt and stepped forth from the tree. “Greetings, Thomas. Are ye fetching some mushrooms for your mother? ’Tis a fine day to search for the best, though ye did remember my words about foraging for the right ones, aye?” She moved slowly toward him, while keeping the other men in her sight. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she smiled. “Ye would not want to pick the poisonous ones.”

  “I…um.” He coughed and nodded.

  Wrapping one arm around his shoulders, Erina faced the surly group. “Are these friends of yours, Thomas?”

  One of the men stepped forward. A wicked scar marred half of his face, giving him a grotesque look as he attempted to smile. “Nae, but I can be your friend.” He wasted no time in leering at Erina.

  She fought the urge to lash out with words. Deciding it best to ignore him, Erina squeezed the lad’s shoulder. “Ye best get these mushrooms to your mother, before she sends out your brothers.” She gave him a wink and prayed he would go along with the ploy, since Thomas had no siblings.

  The lad swallowed. “Aye.”

  “No one is leaving,” ordered the man.

  Erina stepped in front of Thomas. Doing her best to temper her fury along with the fear, she lifted her chin. “Ye have no right to keep him from his chores.”

  The smile he gave Erina never reached his eyes. “I dinnae let any woman tell me what to do.” Grabbing her by the arm, he crushed her to his chest, and used his other
hand to cup her bottom.

  A knot of cold fear churned in the pit of her stomach, and his stench made her want to heave. “Release me,” she demanded.

  He gripped her chin, forcing her to lift her head. “Nae.”

  Blinding pain radiated down her jaw, and her fingers fumbled for her blade. Her captor was swifter and blocked the attempt. Tossing her sgian dubh to the ground, he spat out, “Ye will regret your foolishness.”

  “Let her go!” yelled Thomas and flung the satchel at the man.

  The bastard roared with laughter, and Erina used his momentary distraction to her advantage, and kneed him in the groin. “Run Thomas!” she screamed.

  The lad did not need to be told twice and sprinted down the path along the river.

  Howling in pain, the man slumped to the ground.

  Yet, as Erina made to leave, her exit was blocked by three of his followers. Each drew forth their blades and leveled them at her.

  “Ye…bitch!” bellowed the injured man. “I will see ye in pain before I am done with ye.” He now stood on shaky limbs, drawing in deep gulps of air.

  Turning around slowly, Erina fought the bile threatening to spill forth. Panic skittered along her nerves, taunting her. The only glimmer of hope was Thomas had been freed.

  Meeting his fearsome stare, she stepped forward, fully prepared to meet her death.

  Chapter Five

  “The temper of a Fenian Warrior can become as volatile as an erupting volcano.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Rory kept his head bent as the waves of pain receded within his heart and soul. Finding it difficult to speak, he willed every ounce of his energy to seal what had been spoken in this chamber. Images from centuries ago were forced back into their places within his mind, but he found himself unable to close the door. He knew they waited for him to speak. Yet, Rory had to control the blinding pain that accompanied his memories.

  He battled the tremors coursing through his body as he unclenched his hands.

  “Drink,” ordered Conn, pressing the mug against his palm and folding Rory’s fingers around the solid object. “It’s an herbal tonic.”