Faerie Fate

by Silver James

  “And you’re very pleased with yourself Master Winken,” Becca called to the wolfhound. The dog’s happy bark sounded like laughter.

  Riordan took the lead, and Taidhg brought up the rear. The two dogs ranged from side to side, noses testing the air and the ground for prey. Riordan led them to a long meadow. Without a thought, Becca whooped for joy and nudged Arien into a gallop. She leaned over his neck and savored the feel of his mane whipping against her face as his strong legs pounded the ground beneath them. This is what she’d missed most, the exhilaration that came with flying across the ground. Muffled curses behind her and the pounding of two sets of hooves meant she’d caught the men flat-footed, and they were not happy with her.

  Becca spied a trail leading off into the woods. She slowed Arien slightly so he could turn onto it. Riordan called her, but she ignored him. She’d been denied this particular freedom for over twenty-five years in her time, and she was not going to give it up so easily. Even Taidhg called after her, imploring her to slow down and let them catch up to her.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see where they were, and when she looked back to the front, a low branch caught her chest high and swept her off Arien. She didn’t remember hitting the ground.

  ****

  “She wears the Covenant,” the female said.

  “Aye,” the male agreed, “but she knows naught of it.”

  “He is vulnerable without it,” she persisted.

  “Are you going to talk to me this time?” Becca was determined to get some answers.

  Silence.

  “You two are really pissing me off, you know. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “Don’t,” the female whispered.

  “Who are you?”

  “She willna remember,” the male whispered back.

  “Yes, I will.”

  Silence.

  “At least tell me if you are real. Or are you just a figment of my imagination? Am I going to wake up in the hospital? If I am, just let me die now. I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”

  ****

  “Easy, cailín,” Riordan soothed. “You’ll not be dyin’, and we have to take you back.” Becca griped his arms. The strength in her hands amazed him. She was a most uncommon cailín indeed. “You took a tumble from Arien,” he explained. “We need to get you to Siobhan.”

  The two wolfhounds pushed past Riordan and licked her face. Becca waved them away. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I’m still here.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I was afraid they’d take me back,” she choked.

  Taidhg’s hand griped his sword hilt. “Who, mistress? Who would dare take you?” He looked around warily, afraid someone was watching from the woods.

  Becca shook her head. “Not here,” she mumbled, closing her eyes against the bright sunlight. “They aren’t here, Taidhg. Don’t take me to the hospital.”

  Her words confused Riordan, and he worried she had a head injury. “Catch Arien if you can,” he told Taidhg. “If you can’t, leave him to find his own way back. We have to get her to Siobhan.”

  Taidhg nodded in agreement. Arien had returned to stand quietly with the other two horses. The guard snatched the reins on all three and led them over. Riordan mounted his horse while Taidhg picked up Becca and handed her to the other man. Holding Arien’s reins, he mounted his own horse, and they started back to the keep. Every instinct urged Riordan to put his horse into a full gallop and get Becca home as quickly as possible. However, he knew that if she’d injured her head in the fall, the gallop could do more harm. They were just a league away. He could stay his anxiety. He would not risk further injury to her.

  Becca sank back into the place where the darkness was soft and gray instead of the all-encompassing black of unconsciousness. Maybe those others were still lurking about in there, and she could ask them more questions.

  ****

  “She wants to know who we are,” the female reminded him.

  “As if she’d recognize us,” the male replied disdainfully.

  “There are those who would,” the female argued. “And this one would ask.”

  “You are the one who gave the Covenant,” he accused.

  “And you are the one who promised it,” she reminded him.

  ****

  When Becca awoke, she was back in her bed. Ciaran’s bed! She all but cried in relief. Siobhan and Odhran hovered over her, and she suspected that Riordan and Taidhg clustered outside the door. That Eachan waited with them would have surprised her. The dogs and Nod milled about getting in the way. Siobhan had shooed them off the bed several times and tried to keep them out of the room before finally throwing up her hands in defeat.

  “You can’t be taking such chances,” Siobhan chided her. “Yee nigh frightened a year’s growth out of all of us.”

  “Chill out,” Becca told her, grinning when she realized Siobhan hadn’t a clue as to what the phrase meant. “I’m fine,” she added. “That wasn’t the first time I’ve come off a horse, and it probably won’t be the last.”

  “Aye, it will,” Eachan roared from the door. “I thought yee had more sense, cailín. Yee’ll not be ridin’ one of mine like that again.”

  Becca smiled at the huge man, knowing he was all bluster and bluff. “Is Arien all right?”

  “Aye, through no thought of yer’n, though.”

  “I’m sorry, Eachan.” She raised her voice. “And that goes to you two lurking out there in the hall. You might as well come in and have a go at me as well.”

  Riordan and Taidhg entered hesitantly. Relieved Becca sounded so normal, they breathed sighs of relief. They both wanted to lay into her with sharp tongues for what she’d done, but they were both so thankful she wasn’t hurt, neither could unleash their wrath.

  “I was stupid, okay?” she told the room. “That’s what happens when I’m cooped up. I go a little crazy. My head quits working. I promise it won’t happen again. I really am fine.” She stretched and winced. “Well, nothing that a hot bath won’t cure.”

  Siobhan stood apart with her hands on her hips scowling at Becca. She cleared her throat and glared a little harder.

  “All right, already. I promise not to ride recklessly. I promise not to run off and leave Taidhg and Riordan behind. I promise to be a good girl. I promise not to cause any trouble until Ciaran gets back. Does that satisfy you, Siobhan?”

  “And why don’t I believe a word of it?” the other woman scoffed. “Trouble follows you like a shadow, Becca.”

  Becca shrugged and tried to look sheepish.

  “Out with yee all,” Siobhan ordered the men. “Taidhg, send up the tub and hot water, will yee?”

  Becca closed her eyes. The relief on everyone’s faces humbled her. By leaving Taidhg behind, Ciaran took her safety very seriously, and now her gut churned with guilt. If something had happened to her, Riordan and Taidhg very likely would have forfeited their lives for her foolishness. She resolved to be more responsible.

  As the next few days passed, Becca noticed a great deal of activity both in and out of the castle. Out beyond the village, on a hill above a wide green park, a great pile of wood sprouted, and everyone seemed to be obsessed with cleaning. She needed more information before she made a tactical error so she finally asked Siobhan.

  “’Tis Beltane,” the older woman explained. “The first of May. All the hearth fires will be extinguished, and at dark on Beltane, the bonfire will be lit. Each family will light a brand from the fire to take home to relight the hearths. Did you not celebrate it in your time?”

  Becca shook her head. “May first in my time was called May Day but no one celebrated.”

  Enchanted by all the activity, Becca avidly watched the preparations. As Siobhan had indicated, when May first arrived, all the fires were extinguished, and people scrubbed all the hearths clean. Everyone in the castle, village, and the outlying crofts dressed in their finest and gathered on the green just before dusk. Food-laden tables stood
everywhere, and casks of wine and other drink were opened and shared. Pipers played lively tunes while couples danced.

  As dark fell, Odhran lit the bonfire, and the night blazed with flames. Entranced, Becca wished Ciaran was there to share it with her. Before she could brood too long, Riordan appeared and claimed her for a dance. Laughing, she admitted she didn’t know a reel from waltz, but he swung her around to the lively music and just managed to keep his boots out from under hers. After a few jigs, she sent him off to find a more willing cailín.

  Siobhan clustered with other women whose husbands were soldiers. Though Becca could tell from their faces they were worried and missed their husbands, they still managed to enjoy the festival. A few of them danced together, and they all ate, drank, and laughed.

  Becca felt out of place again. As the MacDermot’s intended, she was not part of the village, but since she wasn’t his wife yet, she wasn’t part of the castle either. Lonely, she found a space a little away from the crowd. She spread Ciaran’s mantle and sank down on it. Winken, Blinken, and Nod immediately appeared and nestled around her. She tried very hard not to think about Ciaran but as she watched Riordan draw a comely young cailín off into the dark, she couldn’t help herself.

  “You don’t have to miss out on the festivities, Taidhg, just because I choose a quiet place,” she said softly, knowing the man was nearby. His clothing rustled as he moved behind her.

  “’Tis all right, cailín,” he replied, his voice as quiet as hers. “I have no wife, and my head is too old to suffer the effects of drink on the morrow.”

  At midnight, a small trail of fire flickered, joining a small pile of brush with the main body of the bonfire. By ones and twos, and then whole families, the villagers lined up to jump across the smaller fire. Becca had no clue why they did so.

  “’Tis for luck,” Taidhg explained, sensing she didn’t understand. “And to protect us from evil.”

  “Then we’d best go have a leap.”

  He held out his hand to help her up. As she approached the end of the line, Riordan suddenly appeared at her side. “Since the MacDermot ’tisn’t here, will you allow me to be his proxy?”

  Becca grinned, her dimple showing as her eyes danced with mischief. “Haven’t you already jumped across with that little brunette? How much luck and protection do you need?”

  Riordan ducked his head in mock chagrin, but Becca saw the impudence shining in his eyes. “’Tis not for me, cailín, but Ciaran. I fear he will need all the luck he can garner when he returns to deal with you.”

  Laughing, Becca grabbed his hand, and the two of them ran and leaped across the flames. Ever faithful, Taidhg followed close on their heels.

  Odhran was the last person to leap the fire. All the heads of household then came to the bonfire and lit a torch. With their raised brands chasing the shadows away, everyone drifted back to their homes. Riordan lit the torch for the castle, and he now led that procession back.

  “’Tis An Taoiseac who would do the honors,” Taidhg told Becca as they followed close on Riordan’s heels. “So now Riordan stands in for him.”

  Becca mulled that over for a bit. She’d assumed Riordan was just another officer in Ciaran’s service. Now she wondered. There was so much knowledge everyone else took for granted, and about which, she had no clue. Desperate to fit in, she acted like she understood, even when she was reluctant to ask what she didn’t know.

  For the next fortnight, Becca stayed very low-key around the castle. She let Siobhan teach her needlework. It bored her to tears. Though there was some satisfaction in watching a picture eventually take shape. It just took too long to suit her. During the long years of her rehabilitation and decline, several nurses had tried to teach her to embroider, needlepoint, and knit. Becca had always been active, and the inactivity her injuries forced upon her body chafed her. She purposely stayed away from the stables, though she watched Maggie May and her foal from the courtyard. Becca did find some satisfaction out in the herb garden learning the names and uses of the herbs.

  One of her grandfather’s ranch hands was a Cheyenne and his mother lived on the ranch with them. She was a fascinating old woman who wove amazing tales of her people and was a deep well of knowledge of both folklore and native medicine. Micco, her son, often used herbal remedies on the horses. Many of the same herbs with the same uses grew in neat rows behind the kitchen.

  She’d found peace and contentment in her predicament. Missing him terribly, part of her still dreaded Ciaran’s return. A whole new can of worms would be opened when he did. She was thankful his absence allowed her to adapt to her new life. Becca still harbored the fear she’d suddenly wake up back in the twenty-first century, and she couldn’t bear that thought. When Ciaran returned, she’d deal with the problems he presented. At fifty, she’d long ago decided any semblance of passion was long past her capability but the things that man could do with just a kiss absolutely curled her toes, and it frightened her to death.

  Chapter Eight

  She couldn’t breathe. Stabbing pain in her left side just above her hip. No! Panicked, Becca forced her way up through stifling darkness. Finally able to open her eyes, she focused on the wolfhound lying across her feet. He was real. This room was real. Becca touched her side, expecting to bring away a bloody hand. Nothing. This pain was not hers.

  Ciaran! He’d been hurt and grievously so. Her heart pounding, Becca knew only that she had to get to him. She threw off the covers and ran to the door. Flinging it open, she caught Taidhg curled up in front of the door, asleep.

  “Ciaran,” she panted. “I must go to him.”

  The man stared up at her stupidly, still half asleep. “But, mistress, he’s far away. Fighting.” He pushed up to a sitting position.

  Exasperated, Becca glared at him. “I know that, Taidhg. It doesn’t matter. He’s been hurt, and I have to get to him. Do not argue with me. Get me a guide, provisions, and horses.” When he still didn’t move, she yelled. “NOW!”

  The commotion in the hallway woke Siobhan. She stumbled out of her room, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “What is it, cailín? ’Tis not even dawn yet.”

  “It’s Ciaran, Siobhan. He’s been hurt. I must go.”

  “Nay, cailín, ’tis too dangerous. The O’Briens are raiding, not to mention some of the other clanns. And there are those who are less than loyal to the O’Conor. They also have axes to grind with the MacDermot. If they caught you, cailín...” Siobhan’s voice trailed off. She did not want to think about the bloody war that would ensue if anyone harmed the young woman.

  “I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Becca snapped. She grabbed the other woman’s arm. “Siobhan, he’ll die if I don’t get there in time.” Her voice broke, and she blinked back tears.

  “We’ll need at least a company.” Taidhg hoped to dissuade her.

  “No. That would leave Ailfenn undefended. Two men. We ride hard and fast. Go, Taidhg.” Becca remained adamant. She took Siobhan’s arm and pulled her into the chamber. “I need clothes, Siobhan. Trews and shirts. Heavy boots. And a first aid kit.” Realizing she’d used a twenty-first century term again, she explained what she needed.

  Within the hour, she was ready. Taidhg and Riordan awaited her in the courtyard. Becca had raided Ciaran’s den and found a sword light enough for her to handle and a dirk. Belting them on, she sent up a quick thanks for the fencing lessons she’d received when the captain of the Modern Pentathlon team had tried to lure her away from the equestrian team. She swung the blade experimentally. It was certainly different from the foil she’d trained with and was far more deadly but Becca might have need of deadly force before all was said and done.

  She swept through the massive doors of the keep just as the sun rose. The first rays of dawn bathed her in a golden nimbus, and her appearance caught everyone by surprise.

  “She could pass for a warrior,” Taidhg whispered to Riordan.

  The other man simply nodded, too stunned to speak. She coul
d be a Fenian Warrior come to life, his mind insisted. Who was this woman who had so ensorcelled his kin? And me, he added with honesty.

  Becca was tall for a woman and muscular with broad shoulders. She’d tied her hair back with a leather thong and wore her trews and boots like she’d been born to them. Riordan knew of no woman who would be so comfortable, so confident in male garb but Becca looked like a Celtic warrior queen of old.

  The horse master himself held Arien’s bridle. Becca needed no help to mount now that a skirt no longer encumbered her legs. Eachan patted her thigh with far more familiarity than anyone else in the keep would have dared.

  “Take care of him, and he’ll take care of you, cailín,” he whispered to her.

  Becca nodded, not trusting her voice. Instead, she put her heels to her horse and cantered out the gate, Riordan, Taidhg, and the two wolfhounds hard on her heels. Once beyond the gate, Becca motioned for Riordan to take the lead. She had no clue which way to head.

  The three rode hard but wisely, keeping their horses as fresh as possible. Every sinew and synapse within Becca screamed that she run Arien until he could run no more. Her need to get to Ciaran was that great.

  ****

  As that first day slid into evening, her grit astonished both Riordan and Taidhg. She never complained, never slowed them down, never expected cosseting like most ladies would have demanded as their due. They’d made excellent time and were much farther than Riordan had anticipated. When the night grew too dark to ride safely, Riordan called a halt. He’d found a small copse of trees not far from a stream.

  Becca unsaddled Arien and rubbed him down with handfuls of sweet-smelling grass. When she finished, she led him to the stream to drink his fill. Taidhg strung a picket line while Riordan watered their mounts.

  Becca sat on the bank of the stream, and Riordan hunkered down on his heels next to her. “’Tis a cold camp tonight, mistress,” he apologized.

  “Aye,” Becca agreed. “I, too, hope the three of us can pass through unnoticed.”

  Riordan nodded, astounded by her acumen. She was indeed well matched to the MacDermot.