A Chieftain's Wife

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “Finally, you awaken from the spell placed upon you, and the potion you have consumed. Surely the dead waken with less effort. Your wife is in immediate peril and you must go to her at once!” The wispy blonde spirit ordered as she once more tugged upon his sleeve, and then took his large hand in her own and attempted to pull him to a standing position.

  Killian felt as though he was suffering the undesirable effects of entirely too much drink, when in recollection he had only had one small drink of whiskey as he had sat working on his ledgers. He was bleary-eyed and unstable upon his feet as he stumbled after the spirit girl as she floated ahead of him and started up the winding steps.

  “You must walk faster, O’Brien, sure you moved swifter as a wee boy just learning to walk, back when I spent time with you so long ago.”

  Killian shook his head and attempted to make sense of the spirit’s words. “Who are you?” he managed though his tongue was thick and his words slurred.

  “I am Shylie.”

  “Shylie O’Rorke, but sure you died many years ago!”

  “Aye, you were but one year of age when I met my misfortune in the woods that border your lands and my father’s. It was an evil being who took my life and who attempts to harm your wife this night.”

  Killian felt some urgency within his mind but, in his muddled state, he wasn’t certain he understood the spirit’s meaning, and he certaintly couldn’t will his body to move any faster as he made his way up the many winding steps. He felt his head reeling as his eyes closed, as he fought the need to return to sleep. He finally lowered himself to the stone steps, incapacitated by the dizziness and inability to capably lift his feet.

  “A strong potion was placed in your drink this night, O’Brien, and a potent spell placed on the castle. Your wife’s mother and the young druid have been locked within their chambers by a dark magical spell. No one hears their shouts or their pounding. The druid cannot even summon his own magical powers. He has injured his shoulder in a courageous attempt to break down the door and he has even contemplated jumping from the window in his chambers, only to learn there is a barrier keeping him sealed within.

  The humans all sleep an unnatural slumber, ’tis only you I could rouse because your wife has made you somewhat immune to magic, it is hopeful you can save her this night. But you must waken fully and you must do it now!”

  Killian heard the young spirit’s words, but it was as though through a thick far-off fog, and they echoed unnaturally. He simply wished to lie down even there upon the cold, stone steps his desire for sleep was so overpowering. He shook his head and placed his hands on the stone steps, trying to steady himself and stop the disturbing dizziness, or perhaps resort to crawling up the steps, when he saw another specter materialize beside the other.

  “And who might you be?” he asked once more in slurred tone.

  “My name is Deidra, although that is of little consequence at the moment, for you’ve never known me. I’ve been gone from this earth for well over a thousand years. You must awaken, O’Brien. It is imperative you awaken now!”

  “Why does the spirit of my mother not come to me to aid me?’ he asked in a manner that was almost incomprehensible, but nonsensically typical of one who was too filled with drink.

  The two spirits looked at one another uncertain how to improve the current situation.

  “Your mother would surely avail you if it was a possibility. Young Shylie and I possessed magical abilities and druid gifts in life, which we have carried with us to the spirit world, so we are capable of opposing the dark spell on the castle and appearing before you.”

  “If you’re both magical spirits why can’t you get to Alainn straightaway and prevent her from harm?”

  “The chamber was charmed by the young druid to ensure no one meaning harm to your wife could enter, but the dark one has altered the spell so that no one possessing magical abilities can enter.”

  Killian sensed the deep urgency in their voices and the thought of a dark being anywhere near Alainn caused his heart to fill with fear. He stood once more though he teetered dangerously and remained noticeably unsteady on his feet.

  “He’ll be of no assistance if he cracks his head on the stone steps or stumbles and breaks his neck!” The spirit Deidre spoke loudly to the emptiness around them.

  Then a great glowing light formed at the top of the last winding stairwell which led to the tower chambers. In his muddled seemingly inebriated state, he rubbed his eyes, wondering if all that he was seeing was purely a disturbingly real dream. But then from within the glow of light he recognized the figure of the Celtic goddess Aine appear before him.

  “Why did you not come before this? I have been summoning you for a time now?” Deidra scolded the goddess.

  “There is little time for explanation. The realm of the gods is in chaotic uproar. All gods have been forbidden to enter the human realm at this time.”

  She glanced at the man who remained on his hands and knees on the steps, his eyes attempting to see her, but it was obvious he could not focus clearly.

  “Go now, O’Brien, or it will be too late, for a dark being lures Alainn to him and she is at present incapable of fighting him.”

  Aine placed her hand to his forehead and he became coherent once more.

  Killian stood, shook his head, made his way up to the top of the steps and continued on down the now dark corridor.

  Both the spirit women seemed relieved at that. Shylie smiled at him and then all three of the females were simply gone.

  Killian wondered if it had truly all been a dream or his imagination, for he could sense no urgency. As he stood outside the tower room he listened, but could hear nothing, it seemed almost unnaturally quiet even for the middle of the night. Yet, as he placed his ear to the door, he was nearly certain he heard a low whisper, an eerie unrecognizable voice. He pondered how he would be capable of opening the door if it had been magically sealed shut by someone with dark powers and even spirits and a goddess could not enter, but he met with no resistance. He swiftly threw open the door and charged within.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As he opened the door he thought he caught the glimpse of an unusual shadow upon the wall, and a feeling of dread encompassed him. Without hesitation, he walked toward the location where he had seen the shadow. He heard a whoosh as if a gust of wind had icily blown through the chamber, and up through the hearth’s chimney. He blinked his eyes several times for the shadow, and with it apparently the dark threat, seemed to have simply disappeared entirely.

  Killian looked around the chamber feeling completely confused and uncertain what had just transpired. He seemed unable to recall why it had been so imperative he get to Alainn. As his thoughts went to Alainn, he felt further unrest for he could not immediately see her and as his eyes searched the area he assessed the dark chamber.

  One candle burned on the stand. No window was present in this tower room and the air smelled dank and musty. A small unadorned bed sat in the room. When he drew nearer to the bed, he saw only one thin blanket, which surely would not keep Alainn warm at night for she was often cold and needed him to hold her and warm her to take away her chill. The guilt returned to him at knowing she spent her nights alone in this dismal place.

  Only the tiny candle provided any light for the turf fire had burned out almost entirely, but for a few glowing embers. The room was reminiscent of the chamber she’d lived in all her life at Castle O’Brien, although larger in size. The small hearth offered little warmth and he noticed the deep, unearthly chill in the room. He finally spied Alainn huddled against the far wall. For an instant, the spirit woman Deidra materialized before Alainn and the spectral glow surrounded both of them. As he drew nearer, the spirit simply disappeared again.

  When he approached Alainn, he noticed she did not turn to look at him, but remained looking straight ahead. How tiny and forlorn she appeared! Even as he crouched beside her she did not seem remotely aware of his presence.

  “Al
ainn?” he softly called her name.

  Still there was no response or barely any indication she was actually alive.

  He took the nearby candle and held it to her face to look upon her as Mara had suggested he might.

  He gasped at the sight of how thin and frail she’d become. Her hair, tightly pulled back from her face, looked drab and lacked the luster it always held. He gently clasped her small pointed chin and turned her face toward him. He saw how pallid her complexion was, and he realized her eyes were dim as well and they held a vacant stare. That frightened him as much as the thought of losing her to death, or perhaps even to the demon, for he’d heard of people who were lost forever to all-consuming grief that ended in madness.

  He returned the candle to the stand and carefully lifted her to him.

  “By Christ!” He exclaimed as he felt how light she was in his arms and he noticed how sharp her bones seemed to be. How had he let this happen? It had barely been a moon, but he couldn’t estimate how much weight she’d lost in that time. He knew Cookson had told him her trays were returned barely touched, but he’d had little appetite himself since their child had died, so he had not fretted knowing she did not eat heartily. He found himself growing angrier and wanting to lay blame for her failing condition.

  When he headed down the winding steps with Alainn in his arms, he noticed how she shivered and shook. He held her tighter and she emitted a gasp that sounded as though she was in pain. He met Mara on the steps, she had frantically been on her way to see her daughter, he glared at the woman even as she spoke.

  “My door was mysteriously locked; magically locked, I would presume. I could not get to her for all my attempts, magical or otherwise. I was fearful for her and what would happen if the fire was allowed to die out!” She cried.

  “Aye, it would seem there was some form of malevolence present this night.”

  Killian felt his emotions reaching dangerous levels and his body and head both felt as though he had been through a lengthy arduous battle. His mouth was filled with an acrid taste. His head throbbed, his arms ached, and his legs felt leaden. As he looked down at Alainn, who remained limp in his arms, her eyes open, but revealing no emotion, he felt his temper flaring once more.

  “Why the hell did no one tell before this day that Alainn was in such a dismal state? She is the wife of a chieftain, how could she have been allowed her to slip into such utter desolation?”

  Mara’s own temper rose at his accusatory ranting as they made their way downward. “We all told you she fared poorly, Killian O’Brien. Every one of us. Mary, Eireen, Danhoul, even the young cook, but you choose to ignore us, and to be consumed in your own despair and bitter anger!”

  “I understand she hasn’t wanted to eat, but I didn’t know she was starvin’ herself into the grave... and what of her hair and her clothes? She has always adored bathing and taken pride in keeping herself clean and well-groomed. Why did no one see to these things if she was not capable herself?”

  “She is doing penance, Killian. She seeks atonement for what she believes she’s caused, and she will do nothing that offers her the slightest comfort or pleasure. Would you have us force her? Would you force food down her throat, force the bathing and grooming, when she cares so little about anything at the moment?”

  “Aye, you’re damn well correct I’d force it!”

  Danhoul heard the raised voices as he finally burst forth from his chambers once his door was simply unlocked. He held tight to his injured shoulder and hurried to the others, soon finding himself in the middle of the bitter dispute and the brunt of Killian’s rage as well.

  “You were supposed to be healing her, man! Does she look healed in any way? In truth, she looks as though she’s on death’s door!”

  “Considering all that has happened, the uncommonly dark magic that has overtaken the entire castle this night, you should be thankful Alainn still lives. For I couldn’t get to her even when I employed my powers, and neither could her mother. I could not make my voice heard and no amount of calling to Alainn through telepathy seemed effective.”

  Killian knew he should be filled with relief, but when he continued to stare down at Alainn, he felt his emotions and his temper soar. Danhoul noticed and spoke on further in explanation.

  “Although I am not much learned in herbal concoctions, I know some and I suspect you were given a potion to make you fall into a deep sleep. I can detect the scent of valerian root upon you. Alone in small quantities, it simply is known to make sleep come easier, but in greater quantities and mixed with other herbs, with whiskey or ale or the like, it becomes a powerful sedative. Many do not waken if too much is consumed. ’Tis often a competent way to commit murder or suicide.”

  Killian despaired in realizing how close he had come to losing Alainn again. “I suppose it is grateful I am then, that two spirits and a goddess were able to assist us this night.”

  “Aye, I envisioned the two female spirits here this night, both filled with the sole intent of keeping Alainn safe, and it is only because of them and the fact you are mostly immune to harmful magic that this night had a fortunate outcome.” Danhoul revealed. “It was surely the spirits’ insistence and Mara’s and my pleas that summoned Aine. She is certain to suffer dire consequences for crossing the worlds to the human realm, when it was presently disallowed, but ’tis most fortunate she came to Alainn’s aid.”

  Killian wanted to simply be exceedingly grateful, but as always, feeling entirely ineffectual in dealing with supernatural happenings and magic beings, Killian fully intended to put his efforts into dictating and handling what aspects of Alainn’s life he was able to control. He could see to her well-being.

  Killian looked down at Alainn’s failing condition. His anger overtook his clear thought.

  He snapped at Danhoul again. “How could she have gotten to this forlorn state, she appears to be near death?”

  “That is precisely where she desires to be, Killian! In truth, perhaps she did hear my warnings this night and was simply beyond caring, for I doubt anything matters to her at the moment. And you’ve no one to blame save yourself for her present state!” Danhoul finally returned Killian’s displeasure and harsh words, and Mara concurred.

  “Aye, we’ll share some of the blame for her present condition, but there’s only so much we can do without your assistance, Killian. And if you’re not willin’ to do your part then you might well have allowed her to die from the fever, for it might have been a kinder death, then starvin’ herself or wishin’ herself dead! And better by far than falling prey to a demon.”

  Killian had taken her to their bedchamber and still held her in his arms though it was clear he wasn’t entirely certain what should be done for her. When Eireen dizzily floundered into the chamber to find the source of the angry shouts and raised voices, she visibly appeared unable to fully waken as well.

  Killian finally resorted to hollering loudly to everyone around him.

  “Get the servants to fill the tub with very warm water for she likes to soak in a bath. And find some of the soaps and balms she uses for she was always insistent on bein’ clean. Her hair is in need of washing and brushing. Mara, you and Eireen must tend to her cleanliness. And bring her some food. She surely needs to take sustenance. Find something she will eat.”

  He continued to hold her as the Eireen then capably delegated the tasks to the many bewildered servants who came when summoned in the middle of the night. Mara became most displeased with Killian’s demands and once more offered her opinion without holding back.

  “Sure you should revel in the fact your wife is not in the demon’s grasp this night! And you can see to it that her body is cared for. Maybe that will ease your guilty conscious and despairing heart, Killian O’Brien, but the water and the soaps won’t cleanse her soul, and the food won’t allow her to find retribution for what sins she feels she has committed!” Mara spewed.

  Killian’s green eyes filled with uncertainty and he was startled to hear Alainn
speak when she had appeared oblivious to everything around her. Her voice was quiet and gravely weakened, but he was further aggrieved to learn she was speaking in his defense.

  “Don’t flay him, Mara, nor you, Danhoul! No man should be laden with the responsibility of bein’ wed to the likes of me. Do not dare judge him for truly you’ve no notion what a great encumbrance and burden I am with all the unnatural and possibly unholy abilities I possess.”

  For a brief moment, he thought he saw a spark of life within those lovely blue eyes, and it briefly made his heart soar, but ache as well. The room was soon filled with servants scurrying about tending to the tasks he had ordered in an uncommonly demanding fashion. No one commented on Alainn’s words, and he gently sat her upon the bed, trying to ignore the sharpness of her bones and her uncontrollable shivering.

  “I will return shortly!” he said as he, Danhoul, and the servants left her alone with Mara and Eireen.

  The hearth fire was roaring and the entire chamber unusually warm as Alainn sat in the bath. She was vaguely aware of Eireen washing her back and Mara soaping her hair. She could scarcely feel the water around her so numb had she allowed herself to become. And as they dried her and dressed her in a warm nightdress, she simply allowed it for she found it difficult to even hold up her head. She was so weary, so tired of this existence. She heard Eireen weeping and some distant part of her felt badly for the woman whom she’d once thought of as a friend. That seemed so long ago, as though it was in another life, in another time. Now she could feel little emotion, she could ill afford to feel anything, for if she did, she believed she could not possibly endure it. After Eireen left the room Mara sat upon the bed with Alainn.

  “Did you sense the dark one with you this night?”

  Alainn shook her head and shivered so severely, Mara discontinued speaking on the abhorrent topic.

  A small platter of food had be brought to them, cheese and scones, sweet cakes that were surely placed there by Cookson. Alainn nibbled at the food at her mother’s insistence. It felt heavy and tasteless in her mouth, and she gagged when she attempted to swallow. Mara passed her a goblet of water and she slowly sipped. She disliked the sensation of the food and water as it found its way to her stomach so long empty. She felt as though she might spew, and she attempted to still the need.