A Chieftain's Wife

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  She turned from his eyes and sheepishly admitted. “I have blocked the ability to see most spirits, but I seem unable to control them from coming to me in my dreams. ’Tis why I believe the spirit woman must have possessed strong magic in life for I saw her again this morning in daylight while awake. She was in the chamber when I gave the cat the milk mixture. She appeared most pleased I had listened to her warnings.”

  “Alainn, you should most definitely not have blocked that important ability, for often spirits have portent messages for us that will benefit or aid us.”

  Her hackles rose at his words. “Do you know what it is to be surrounded by so many spirits every day of your life? I am able to see the spirits of people who have passed only hours ago and those who have been gone for hundreds, sometimes thousands of years. It is most unsettling to see so very many specters standing amongst the living, existing here with us. Some are most agreeable and simply wish to remain near those they loved in life, but others are not so cordial, and quite vexing and unpleasant. If it were only a few spirits now and again I was witness to, then I would be accepting of that. Are you not capable of seeing the dead then, Danhoul?”

  “I do see them but, no, not in the great numbers you speak of. I suppose it would be unnerving. But, for now, Alainn, until we learn if Deidra’s spirit or any other has news and warning of other threat or perhaps knowledge of the dark demon, you must allow yourself to see them once more.”

  Alainn rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Danhoul, I am attempting to live the life of a woman, just a woman, not a witch, not a magical being, not someone from the line of a Celtic god or fairy princess.”

  “And if these abilities are capable of saving your life or the lives of those you most care for?”

  She sighed deeply. “So be it, I will allow myself to see spirits again for a time.

  “Do it now, Alainn, I insist it be done now.”

  She threw him a displeased look, but closed her eyes and appeared deep in thought. She moved her lips and then touched her hands to her eyes. She slowly opened them and looked all around her obviously seeing what he did not.

  “Samhain is drawing near. Have you any notion the number of spirits that walk the earth during that time?”

  “I would suppose it is many.” He empathized. “Why did you not tell me you blocked this ability?”

  “Well ’tis not as though I tell you every single thing, Danhoul Calhoun. I also did not inform you of my recent vision, a vision where I was guided and accompanied by the spirit of Shylie O’Rorke, my very own aunt. In this disenchanting vision was a woman who looks much like Ciara but was perhaps Ciara maybe many years in the future, and sure she was even less pleasant than she is now.”

  Danhoul’s eyes grew wide at the information she had kept concealed. “How am I to protect you if you keep such subjects from me? We must speak on all of these topics now. Tell me straightaway all you know of the spirit girl and of the woman who may be Ciara in the future.”

  Their discussion was interrupted when the Mac came into the chamber, indeed in a rare temper regarding the dangerous herbs Alainn had been given. He told them he knew from experience back at Castle O’Brien, Danhoul, the young druid, claimed some magical abilities, and he wished to enlist his assistance in questioning some of the servants. He had apparently heard of the man’s ability to sometimes read others thoughts, and believed he might be able to discern who was being truthful.

  He was certain Alainn could possibly help out as well, but he thought it wise to shelter her from any further displeasure or connection with the incident. Alainn assured Danhoul she would be spending the remainder of the day in her bedchamber for she was still feeling tired and in need of rest.

  “Aye, you make certain you take it easy. We will discuss this matter at length at another time, and you must alert me if you intend to leave the castle.”

  “I’ve no intention to do anything of the sort, Danhoul!” she said with assurance as he left her.

  He glanced back at her once more and something unsettled him though even his powers of perception couldn’t decipher what caused the nagging uneasiness he now felt. He started down the corridor, but hurriedly returned and placed a protective charm upon the doorway of her chambers so that no one with harmful intentions, hopefully even the dark demon, could enter or harm her when she was within. He desired to be capable of placing a charm upon Alainn herself to ensure she remained safe, but unfortunately charming a location was much more easily managed than charming a person, especially a witch.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alainn awoke in a cold sweat, her nightdress soaked through with perspiration and her heart filled with dread. Again, she’d experienced a most disturbing dream. She did not dream of Deidra, nor did she see Ciara in the present or the future, but she dreamt of something decidedly more grievous than any of that. She’d dreamt of Killian’s death. It was not a vision, for visions only occurred when she was awake, but it was so similar to her reoccurring vision, it left her more than fearful. And the dream revealed more details.

  The vision had always only shown Killian and her cousins lying dead upon the ground alongside half of Clan O’Brien. There had been English forces present as well, and the ground had been soaked in blood. But this dream had revealed a different location and it had showed her the true lay of the land. It was much hillier than in her previous visions. And she was reasonably certain she knew the exact location. If she’d not once made the trip from Castle O’Brien to Galway, she would not have recognized the land formations.

  She got out of bed quickly and hastened to get dressed. She wasn’t certain what she planned to do or hoped to accomplish, but she knew something must be done. She’d barely gotten her slippers on her feet when she was struck by a blinding pain in her head and an overwhelming sense of nausea. She thought she might faint so intense were both! And the vision she now had was clearer than ever before.

  Alainn was certain the reason she was seeing it now in such precise clarity was because it was actually happening at this very moment. Killian and his men were in battle with the English even now, and they would meet with death in little time. She must somehow get to Killian, but wasn’t certain she could manage it, and what she could actually do, if and when she accomplished that feat. She wanted to alert Danhoul, maybe even to enlist him in aiding her.

  She frantically attempted to telepathically call to Danhoul as she had done often before, but in doing so the sharp excruciating pain within her head returned. She placed her hands to her head and willed the throbbing to terminate. Time was perilously short. She inhaled several deep breaths and concentrated on Killian, on being taken there to Killian, and closed her eyes tightly.

  When she opened them again, she smelled smoke all around her, and she recognized the pungent scent of blood. She was standing behind one of the few trees in the area. She saw English soldiers wearing their typical scarlet uniforms and many of them were mounted on horses. Several others stood by large weapons that spouted fire. Although Alainn had never seen such weapons before, she had heard they existed.

  She saw a sea of English soldiers, almost as far as the eye could see and they were surrounding the Irish soldiers. The clans were trapped within a deep valley and hedged in on all sides. Alainn realized with great fear and disdain that very few Irishmen remained alive. The first man she recognized was Pierce MacCarther. She’d not seen Pierce in any of her previous visions, but she barely had time to form that thought when she saw him fall to the ground, struck by the object that spewed at an unimaginable speed from the weapon of fire.

  She threw out her arms and with all her strength and ability concentrated on freezing time. It had been a very long time since she’d attempted that deed, but she saw she had most certainly accomplished it, for everyone now stood completely silent and still as bronze statues.

  She lifted up her skirts and moved as quickly as she was able toward the valley now strewn with dead bodies. She recognized several. Many were O�
�Brien’s. She saw Hugh and Sean, Killian’s uncles and the new captain to Castle O Brien, all dead, their bodies torn and bleeding. Her eyes fell upon Riley, and then Rory only a few feet from him, as well. Rory was dead, Riley had his eyes closed and his face was twisted by the tormented pain. The peculiar thought occurred to her, as twins they had been born together and now they had would die together, also.

  Her heart ached as she went to Rory’s side. She had always loved Rory like a brother and thought of him as one of her dearest friends. He was a kind and gentle man. The tears ran down her cheeks as she touched his head. She felt heartsick at seeing Riley near death as well. There would be nothing she could do for him for his stomach was splayed open and bleeding profusely. Her thoughts went to her beloved grandfather for his only two grandsons would now be gone.

  She had to find Killian; she’d possibly made it there before he’d been killed. Perhaps as some of the details had been altered with Pierce being there and the English weapons being so unusual, perhaps the order of the O’Brien men’s death would also be altered. She prayed it would be so as she frantically searched for Killian.

  She stepped over bodies of English and Irish alike. Though only armed with swords and bow and arrows, the Irish had always been fierce and skillful warriors and they’d clearly taken out many Englishmen. If they’d not been so hugely outnumbered and the English hadn’t claimed unusual and advanced weaponry, the fight would have been more evenly matched.

  Alainn felt the tears still running down her cheeks and heard the sobs, but barely realized they were her own. And then she spotted him. He lay upon the ground, his sword still run through an Englishman, and there was a sword in his chest as she’d seen in her visions, but he was also hit by one of the fire weapons. She strangely found herself trying to remember the name of these weapons for she’d heard Killian and Mac speaking of them.

  She knelt on the ground beside Killian and looked into his deep green eyes, for they remained wide open, but there was no life left within them. She screamed; she heard herself screaming over and over again as she pulled his head to her lap. Her entire dress was soaked with his blood and she rocked him as she would a child. She felt the child moving within her and was tormented further knowing he would never know his father.

  She had not been able to stop any of this horror for all of her damnable powers. Why had she been shown the cursed vision if she wasn’t meant to prevent the tragedy? She felt the rumble of thunder overhead as much as heard it. The cold rain began to fall and she could not hold time at a standstill for much longer. There were many English soldiers still standing, sure her life would be in danger if she did not soon seek safety.

  A thought occurred to Alainn even in her intense unbearable grief, she could not simply still time; she could reverse it. She could go back in time. She’d only ever done it once before, the day she had seen the evil demon in the dungeon of Castle O’Brien. And that was the day she had nearly lost their child. Although she’d also been struck that day by the poisoned dart, she had never revealed to anyone, but she suspected it might have been her traveling through time that had contributed to the near miscarriage as much as the poison.

  She had to make a decision. If she attempted to save Killian she could lose their unborn child. As she looked down at the man she now held in her arms, she felt her heart breaking into a thousand shattered pieces. If she didn’t make a move soon, she and their unborn child would soon be dead as well. And for an instant that was precisely what she wanted. She wanted to be dead, to simply be joined in death to her Killian.

  As her hand touched his, still warm for he’d surely only been gone for a short while, she knew she had to save him. But, if she died trying, then she would take the life of her child as well. How could she dare risk losing her precious unborn son? Perhaps she would lose them both. The seconds passed and she felt herself unable to move, as petrified as all the others surrounding her, and it hurt intensely to breathe. She recalled Killian’s words when they thought they would lose the child those months ago, he’d said they would have many children. She couldn’t even be entirely certain this journey would cause harm to her unborn child. And so she instinctively chose.

  Chapter Thirty

  She willed herself to go back in time. She didn’t know how far to go back or even how far she was capable of going back. Because she wasn’t aware of the specific events that had occurred earlier in the morning, she commanded herself to go back to when there was little light, for even now it was just past dawn. She thought of Storm, Killian’s horse, and imagined him upon the horse. Nothing happened. She looked down upon the amulet she wore. It bore the mark of the triquetra, a druid symbol. It surely offered her some magical protection. But, it also seemed to limit her powers and Alainn knew she needed whatever powers she could call upon, so she pulled the amulet from her neck and shoved it in the pocket of her gown.

  Once again she concentrated intently and she felt herself becoming dazed and disoriented, but when she opened her eyes she saw Killian off in the distance, he was alive and riding Storm as she’d imagined, but the English already had the Irish surrounded. She heard the thundering sound that came from the harquebus. She had finally remembered the name of the weapon. They were many large weapons and they were being fired from atop a wooden support for they appeared to be very heavy. She tried to call out to Killian, but the noise all around her was deafening and she heard a movement from behind her.

  An English soldier was standing, looking at her with great interest and she remembered Killian once telling her if a woman was present on a battlefield she seldom met with a quick death, for she was often made to suffer rape as well. She doubted even an Englishman with little conscience would rape her when she was so obviously with child, but she wasn’t certain.

  She felt the anelace, the small dagger she kept within her pocket fly from its location by way of her magic and straight into the heart of the English soldier. As she pulled it out with use of powers as well, she tried to make her way to Killian or at least close enough that she could be heard. She was about to move closer using her magic, as she tried to magically urge him to draw nearer to her as well, but as she looked toward him she saw him pulled from his horse by a foot soldier. He ran the man through with his sword, and she saw him bravely take out at least half a dozen more of the enemy before she saw the object being hurled at him from the harquebus at unbelievable speed. She threw out her hands and tried to prevent it from hitting him. At the same time she threw her anger and fury at the man standing behind the weapon. She saw the man and the weapon burst into flames and there was an enormous explosion from the location.

  As she looked back at Killian she saw him upon the ground. She stopped time again, and ran to his side. He was still alive. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, but it was short-lived for although the sword seemed to have caused only minimal damage to his shoulder, she saw the large open wound that had been caused by the fire weapon. She’d not been capable of stopping it. It had gone straight through him and it was dangerously close to his heart, so close she despaired at being capable of viewing his beating heart. The damage was massive and she knew within her own heart it was surely a mortal wound. The blood gushed uncontrollably from the wound. As it spurted and sprayed disturbing each time his heart beat, she dropped to the ground and firmly placed her hands to his chest in attempt to stop the bleeding. She called upon her magical healing powers. She saw his eyes open and he looked at her with such torment, she wanted to cry out in protest. She felt his hand upon hers. His voice was weak as he spoke.

  “Alainn, you must go back. You must save yourself and our son for sure there’ll not be an Irishman left alive this day. No amount of healin’can save me now. Even your magic cannot heal this wound. You know that to be truth. So do as I’ve asked you, my Lainna, go back now, save yourself and our son, and remember to name him Cian!”

  Alainn bent over and pulled him to her. She softly kissed him and his lips formed a smile as he died in her ar
ms.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She held him to her tightly as she screamed out again and she wailed so overwrought was she at the injustice of it. She no longer seemed conscious of the ability to make choices; she simply knew she had to go back further still. For the briefest of seconds she considered doing as he’d told her and going back to their castle. But she couldn’t manage it. She envisioned the road she’d seen leading to the valley. She thought of the stars in the dark night sky and imaged the darkness of midnight. She attempted to calculate where the clans might have been at that time. She closed her eyes and felt herself being taken back once more and she then noticed the pain across her belly as well. She would lose them both, she thought as she felt herself flying and her world spun and tilted. The dizziness and loud humming filled her head. She felt as though she might lose consciousness entirely.

  When she finally regained clear thought, it was completely dark. She looked around and could see no one. Had she gone to the wrong location, to the wrong time of night? She remembered being told once that some witches had the power to span centuries. In her pain and grief could she have misjudged so poorly she’d been sent back to another time entirely? She was beginning to feel panicked when she heard voices.

  Beyond the trees was an encampment. She looked out to see many blanketed enclosures and several campfires burning. She couldn’t make out the faces of any of the men who sat around the fires, but she believed they were Irish, at least.

  She was peering closer trying to ignore the dull pain in her belly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A man she did not recognize then grabbed her by the arm roughly and pulled her into the clearing.