“Will you teach me to fight with a sword?”
He chewed slowly and then washed his food down with a drink of milk. At least he hadn’t choked like she thought he might. Still, she didn’t like the look of deep contemplation that wrinkled his brow.
“Tá. Ye’ll need to be able to defend yerself,” he said.
Only part of that sounded encouraging.
“I don’t just want to defend meself, I want to fight. They aren’t going to stop at the Wicklow Mountains. And besides, they have to pay for what they’ve done,” she said.
Setting his mug down, he gave her a hard look that raised her defenses.
“Fightin’ for vengeance can get ye killed. There’s no need for ye to be part of any battle. If anythin’ happened to ye. . .” his voice trailed off as he looked away.
An argument had been on the tip of her tongue but his last words stole her ability to speak. Mouth open, she stared at him. It must have looked pretty hostile because he started stuttering and apologizing.
“I don’t want ye to get hurt. Ye mean too much to me,” he said.
“I do?” Neala asked, hating how small and insecure her voice sounded.
He nodded, looking oh so sweet and vulnerable. She both loved and hated it. It was irresistible and it knocked down her defenses. But her anger could not be placated so easily. As much as she liked him, she wasn’t about to let him keep her from who she was. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“All right. But please tell me ye aren’t one of those lads who thinks a woman doesn’t belong on the battlefield,” she said as she stood and picked up her plate.
Bren stepped around the small table and reached out to touch her face. The gentle brush of his fingers sent wonderful chills through her.
“Of course not. I’m a Celt after all. It isn’t that I believe ye don’t belong there. It’s just that I don’t want ye there. I want ye safe,” he said.
He was contradicting himself which made her want to argue so bad that her jaw ached from holding it shut. If she argued again he might not teach her how to channel her energy through the sword and she couldn’t take that risk.
“But ye’ll teach me?” she asked.
“Tá. We can talk about the rest later,” he said in an encouraging tone.
Grinding her teeth against a reply, Neala nodded and turned away so he couldn’t see her expression. It frustrated her that he could look so irresistible while being so frustrating. Oh they would definitely talk about it later. He just wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
~
They didn’t get around to the talk that day. Neala was better with a sword than Bren expected so they practiced longer. Since her brother’s sword had come back years ago, Neala had been practicing with it as best she could. It had built her muscles up to where they could handle the weight. Her eagerness helped her catch on to the rest fast. The practice with the dagger hadn’t hurt either. Channeling energy through the sword was similar; it just took a lot more power.
Despite years of practice, her shoulders were burning by the time they stopped. After draining the last of the water from her waterskin, she belted her brother’s sword to her waist and threw a cloak on to help conceal it. It wasn’t easy to jump onto Dubh’s back with the sword at her waist, but she managed.
Bren gave her a disapproving look. “Wearin’ that out for all to see will draw attention.”
Letting out a snort, Neala put a hand over her hip. “So what. Ye’re wearin’ one.” She motioned to the sword at his hip.
“Tá, but I’m a man. It isn’t exactly common for a woman to go about wearin’ a sword.”
Blood pumped to Neala’s face. Her power started to stir. “For centuries Celtic women have fought beside their men. It’s not exactly a new idea, ye know.”
Dubh started to paw at the ground; the sound of his hoof stomping into the rocky earth rang in Neala’s ears.
Eyeing the stallion with caution, Bren threw his hands up in the air. “I know. I’m just sayin’, be prepared for it to draw the wrong kind of attention.”
A sharp laugh slipped from Neala. “That’s the only kind I’m used to.”
Lips pulled tight, Bren looked down. “I’m sorry ye had to grow up away from yer own kind. Most can sense that we’re different and they can be cruel because of it,” he said.
She didn’t see how he could possibly understand the cruelty of normal people, but she kept that to herself.
Bren approached Dubh but the stallion side-stepped away from him, ears pinned. Neala scratched Dubh’s head to distract him while Bren jumped on. Once he was settled they rode out to meet with their Order.
The place was deep in the forest of the O’Donovan clan. Last night’s rain had left everything glistening a bright green and made the place feel otherworldly. At least it helped keep the temperature down a bit. From the feel of the bright sun it was going to be a hot day. Close to thirty people were gathered, some sitting on rocks or logs, some pacing, all radiating a nervous energy that made the air thick and hard to breathe. It was intoxicating and suffocating at the same time. Neala had never felt so much power, nor had she imagined so many druids were left in the world.
The trees glittered with the wings of countless fairies and the ground crawled with brownies that were scurrying under foot. It was unusual for them to show themselves so freely, even to druids. The forest creatures were reclusive and didn’t like revealing their existence to anyone they didn’t trust. That they had come no doubt meant they feared this latest invasion greatly.
From Dubh’s back it wasn’t hard to spot Irial’s blood red hair in the crowd. Neala guided him in her direction. While weaving through people she noticed, they were all young. Not one of them appeared to be over twenty five.
“They’re all so young,” she commented.
“Tá. I was afraid that might happen,” Bren said in a disappointed tone.
The others of their Order were with Irial, gathered in a spot near the edge of the forest. When her gaze connected with Ciara’s, the girl’s eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth stretched into a tight line. Neala gave her the sickliest sweet smile she could muster.
The smile turned real as they arrived at the edge of the forest and she turned her gaze to the others. With a shift of her weight Dubh came to a stop. She slid from his back, dropped the reins so they dragged on the ground, and told him to stay. Bren landed beside her and took her hand in his. Warmth spread from his hand straight to her heart. It was almost enough to make her forget about their disagreement over her fighting, and was more than enough to make her wrap her hand around his.
Kyla’s face lit up as her gaze fell upon Neala and Bren’s clasped hands. She giggled and poked Irial in the ribs with an elbow. Irial smiled and nodded in approval.
“I see none of the elders made it,” Bren said.
Lip lifting into a sneer, Cian shook his head. “No surprise there.”
“We tried to convince them, but they said it was time to lay low, not fight,” Liam said through gritted teeth.
“They’ve thought that for the last hundred years,” Irial said.
Now Neala understood the level of tension that had the air buzzing. They were a bunch of young people and they were on their own. Bren’s fear for her was starting to make a bit of sense but she shoved the notion aside. They couldn’t allow themselves to think like the adults. If they did then no one would be left to fight for their homeland.
“Rectors rise,” a deep voice boomed above the din of conversation.
The talking stopped and all but two people from every group sat down. Among their group Liam and Irial remained standing. Neala’s gaze was drawn beyond them to a man in his early twenties who stood atop a log.
“The elders refused to come. With the enemy knockin’ at our door still they won’t acknowledge the danger. We alone are left to defend our land,” the man said.
A massive roar of disapproval rose from the crowd. Neala added her voice but
Cian and Irial’s were so loud they drowned her out. Her heart swelled to know she wasn’t alone in her frustration. A woman stepped onto the log beside the man and all fell silent. The way their power merged and outlined them both as if they were one entity made Neala realize they were a Rector couple.
“The fight is comin’ to us. We have to prepare. Liam and Irial have proposed that we form fianns and begin battle trainin’. Who among us supports this?” the woman asked.
Hands shot into the air and a roar of approval passed through those gathered. Neala looked up at Liam and Irial where they stood beside her. Their hands were clutched together and their mingled energy was every bit as powerful as the couple addressing the crowd. She’d had no idea they were going to suggest such a thing and she was proud beyond imagining that they had. Her power had not failed her when it had chosen this group as her Order.
“It does me power good to see ye so ready to defend us,” the man on the log said. “Before we make any decisions, every Rector needs to have their say.”
He and the woman stepped down and another pair of Rectors took their place. Each of the Rectors stood and spoke. There were five pairs in all; a lot considering less than two weeks ago Neala hadn’t realized there were any other druids at all. Some spoke of how much they had to lose by giving up their land, of how as druids they were connected to it. Others spoke of the death and destruction they had witnessed and of the ruthlessness of the invaders. All agreed the Danes had crossed a line they’d never crossed before and that this time they weren’t going to stop.
The discussion soon moved on to tactics and fighting strategies. With only thirty of them, they were hoping at least some of the people who weren’t druids would join the fight. They were losing their land and lives too, after all. Once the discussion started to die down the Rectors gathered for a talk of their own.
All the talking was starting to wear on Neala. This was time she could have been practicing, honing her skills for the upcoming battle. Unable to sit still any longer, she stood and started pacing. It drove her half mad to see Bren sitting there patiently in a near-meditative state. Usually his calm demeanor helped calm her but right now it made her want to shake him and scream. Dubh stood behind the log the others sat upon, his head bobbing as he pawed a hole into the ground. At least he shared her anxiety.
“I hope they hurry. If we sit here much longer I might burst,” Kyla complained. She was leaning back against Cian with her arms crossed, fingers drumming out a rhythm on her forearms.
“I could help with that,” Cian said in a suggestive tone.
Kyla rolled her eyes and slapped him on the arm. Her energy and Cian’s swirled chaotically around one another and the vortex tugged at Neala’s own energy. Next to them Bren’s power was the complete opposite, focused and balanced. Looking at them, Neala realized her own power was being affected by Kyla’s and Cian’s. The surprise must have shown on her face because Bren smiled at her knowingly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto the log next to him.
“Their power can affect yers if ye don’t know how to block it,” he said.
Kyla shrugged. “Sorry Neala. I’m tired of sittin’. I just want to do something,” she said.
The buzzing of Neala’s power eased a bit, allowing her to breathe easier. Knowing someone felt the same way she did was a huge relief.
“No harm done. I feel the same way,” she said.
Kyla’s and Cian’s energy calmed a little and ceased the wild swirling. That, coupled with the soothing feel of Bren’s hand around hers, was enough to help Neala feel grounded again. The Rectors returned and the calm feeling dissolved into chaotic energy. Silence fell as Liam and Irial jumped atop the log in the center of the crowd.
“The Orders will be partnered together to create three fianns,” Liam announced.
“The fianns will train together every other day startin’ tomorrow. Every Order is encouraged to train on their own between days of combined training,” Irial said.
“Choose a member of yer Order to act as a rider in case news needs to be spread. Go now, begin preparin’ for battle,” Liam said.
They spoke seamlessly, one sentence flowing into the next as if they were reading one another’s thoughts. It made Neala wonder about the depth of their connection.
The crowd took to their feet cheering and began to divide into their Orders. Liam and Irial made their way through the chaos to rejoin them. Their flushed faces and pulsing power energized Neala and made her feel as though she could take on the world. Which was good considering she figured that was pretty much what they were about to do.
16
The summer sun beat down upon her, drying the sweat on her brow before it had the chance to drip into her eyes. Her wooden practice sword clashed with Bren’s as they parried, blocked, and swung at one another. Irial said channeling energy into wood was a lot harder than steel so it made her that much stronger for battle. If it accomplished that she didn’t mind.
Bren didn’t take it easy on her and not only because she insisted that he didn’t. If he didn’t fight hard she beat him, which was exactly what she was trying to do now. After a long day of practice they were both tiring and it was hard to tell who had the upper hand.
They had been training like this for nearly a week. With Irial’s guidance she was learning how to channel enough power through her sword to easily defeat even the strongest Dane, or so she hoped. That coupled with Liam’s instruction on how to control her power, raised her to a level she hadn’t even dreamed she could reach. Working with her Order was amazing. It was as though they were of one mind, easily predicting each other’s needs and moves.
Unfortunately, Bren hadn’t been much help beyond being a sparring partner. He made it clear that he opposed the idea of her going into battle and he refused to help any more than he had to. It made Neala train all the harder to prove to him that she could do it.
“Rider!” Kayla called out in her piercing voice.
Alarm coursed through Neala, washing away her weariness. Swords crossed, she and Bren stopped. His wide eyes stared at her as he lowered his wooden sword. She knew what he was thinking because she was thinking it too. The Danes were coming.
A red horse galloped into the meadow and came to a skidding stop that nearly sent its rider over its head. Atop the horse was a boy who looked to be barely thirteen. He was white as a ghost and from the way he was trembling Neala was guessing his coloring wasn’t due to the elusive Irish sun. The strength flowed out of her and she lowered her sword. The look on the boy’s face convinced her she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, yet she had to. Concern rooted her to the spot. Her parents still weren’t home. The news could be about them.
Irial handed the boy a waterskin. Water dribbled down his chin as he took a long drink. Neala had to fight the urge to pull him from his horse and shake the words from him. Her power spiked with her rising frustration and she had trouble stifling it. Bren’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. The soothing feeling that spread from him helped her regain control of her power.
“The healers have returned,” the boy managed before he had to gasp for air.
Neala’s knees went weak with relief. Bren slid his arm around her waist, supporting her.
“There’s also a troop of about thirty Danes coming from the Wicklow Mountains. They appear to be carryin’ wounded,” the boy finished.
“How far away are they?” Liam asked.
“Less than half a day’s ride by now,” the boy said.
“Me parents,” Neala murmured.
Irial’s hand settled on Neala’s shoulder. “Go, check on them,” she said. “Meet back here tonight when the moon rises or send word if ye can’t.”
Fear and concern warred within Irial’s eyes, making Neala hesitate. She didn’t want to leave them but she had to check on her parents. Irial took her hand and strength and confidence flowed into her.
“It’s all right, go. We have to gather the others before we can do anyt
hin’. If they’re bringin’ wounded then they probably didn’t come to fight,” she said.
“Not yet at least,” Cian grumbled behind them.
Neala nodded and turned in to Bren whose grip on her had become almost painfully tight. The look of utter fear in his eyes made her hesitate. The idea of being away from him was so painful it made her power crackle and her heart speed up.
“I have to go,” she said as much to convince herself as him.
“I know. And I have to check on me ma,” he said.
He hugged her so tight she couldn’t draw in a breath. But, holding him was more important than breathing just then. They didn’t pull apart until Liam’s power spilled over them both and he gripped Bren’s shoulder.
“Be careful,” Bren whispered before he let her go.
“Ye too. I’ll see ye tonight,” she said.
The moment he stepped away she turned and ran before she could lose her nerve. Dubh’s tail went up and he whinnied at her approach. She paused only long enough to put her sword belt on, make sure her sword was secure in its scabbard, and throw the reins over Dubh’s neck. She vaulted onto his back, turned him toward the path, and let him go.
“Keep her safe púca,” Bren called out.
It almost made her smile and raised a powerful urge in her to look back. But she didn’t. If she looked back she might turn around and she couldn’t do that. No matter how badly she needed Bren and her Order, her parents may need her right now.
17
When she burst from the forest, Neala saw their two geldings standing in the paddock beside the barn. Smoke drifted lazily up from the chimney of the house. They were home, her parents were really home.
Neala didn’t bother stopping Dubh. The moment he slowed to a trot she leapt from his back and hit the ground running. She flung the door open and stumbled inside.
“Da, ma!” she cried.
Her ma was in the kitchen stirring something on the stove while her da was lounging on the bench beside the fire. Seeing them safe released a massive pressure from inside her chest and nearly drew a sob from her. The simple domestic scene felt so out of place that it took a moment for Neala to process it. How could they be so calm? Then it struck her. They didn’t know the Danes were coming.
To Ride A Púca Page 13
