“We children are preparin’ to fight for our land and our lives,” Liam’s voice echoed through the night, carrying the weight of his power.
O’Donovan rode up to Liam, stopping only a few feet away. The two men’s power clashed like storm fronts, sending waves of energy rolling out. It hit Neala like a thousand bee stings and brought her own power lurching up from the center of her being. Fury followed it and propelled her to Liam and Irial’s side. The rest of her Order moved with her, drawn by the compulsion to stand with their Rectors. Someone challenging her Rector was not something Neala was willing to put up with, no matter who he was.
The horse shied away from the six of them but O’Donovan kicked it forward until its wide eyes were right in front of Neala.
“We fought our war already and it nearly wiped us out. Savin’ our kind is more important than savin’ our land. It is time for us to leave before the Danes wipe us out completely,” O’Donovan said.
Out of the corner of her eye Neala saw Irial straighten and thrust her chin up.
“This land is part of who we are. If the others will fight with us then we have a chance,” she said.
Her words made Neala so proud that they brought tears to her eyes. It was as if she had reached into Neala’s soul and given voice to her deepest feelings. But O’Donovan looked unmoved.
“If we expose ourselves now then the non-druids will give us up to save themselves. Most of them think we’re wiped out. They’ll blame the Danes arrival on us. The decision has been made. Most of the clans are leaving for the west coast at dawn and we druids are going with them,” O’Donovan said.
Something pulled at Neala’s power. It was Liam and Irial. Their Order’s power rose up together like a wave and sent O’Donovan’s horse scurrying back.
“Ye do not speak for our Order O’Donovan. We are stayin’,” Liam said.
Pulling hard on the reins, O’Donovan brought his horse under control and fixed Liam with a sneer.
“Then ye will be the last of our kind to spill yer blood in Ireland,” he said.
With that he spun his horse away and rode off. Cian chased after him a few steps, spitting curses in the old language. Neala started to join him but fell silent when she saw her parents walking right toward her.
“Oh níl, níl, níl,” she muttered, her frustration causing her to slip into her native tongue. Hadn’t she had enough for one day?
Warmth enveloped her as the pressure of Ciara’s fingers wrapped around her arm. Strength poured into her, not just from her, but also from Liam, Irial, Cian, Kyla, and even Bren. Such support was almost enough to close her throat so she couldn’t talk. She’d only dreamt of having friends like this. Now wasn’t the time to let her emotions interfere, though. A few deep breaths helped drive back the panic.
Her parents stopped a few feet away. Anger and betrayal contorted her da’s features. Seeing him like that sent an arrow of guilt straight into her heart. His eyes didn’t settle on her; they went straight for Liam.
“Ye lad will not lead me daughter to her death,” Ardal said with such force that spittle flew from his lips.
“I certainly hope I don’t,” Liam said.
A muscle in Ardal’s cheek started to twitch. Cecily shoved past him and got so close Neala could smell the roast beef she’d had for dinner. Fury boiled in her eyes.
“Stop this nonsense Neala. Come home now,” she said.
Neala shook her head so hard she had to shove her hair out of her face so she could look at her ma. “It’s no safer there than on the battlefield. The Danes are comin’ and this time they won’t spare us if ye heal them. I aim to stop them before they can get to ye,” she told her.
“Our scouts say they turned away at the base of the mountain. They’re going around. Chances are they may never come here,” Cecily said.
The naivety was too much for Neala to take. The last of her restraint drowned in her anger and she didn’t try to stop it. She’d had enough.
“They know where we live ma and they know what we are. Have ye forgotten that they want to wipe our kind out?” she demanded.
Cecily jumped. It made Neala feel bad for shouting but she couldn’t help it. Their lives were in danger and her ma was doing her best to ignore it. With what she had been through as a girl Neala would have thought she’d be eager to fight. It made no sense. And she was sick and tired of things that made no sense.
“Tyr said he would tell them he had killed us all. He said he would protect us,” Cecily said in a small voice made even smaller by the fact that she seemed to be shrinking in on herself.
The words struck Neala like a physical blow. That hadn’t been in the letter, which meant Tyr had spoken to her ma before he left. Why would he speak to her and not Neala? Had she really hurt him that much?
“The protection of a Dane hardly seems comfortin’,” Cian said with a humorless laugh.
Tension rose in the air along with her parents’ power until Neala could feel it like a warm, thick mist. Ardal shot Cian a biting look. Neala’s power pushed against her parents’ just enough to bring their attention back to her.
“Please understand, I must do this and ye need to hide,” she said.
Her ma’s hand snapped out and seized her arm, the grip painful. “Níl. Ye are comin’ home with yer family, now. We are going to live a nice, normal, quiet life,” she hissed.
One easy twist and pull freed Neala from her ma’s grip. Long ago her brother Lorcan had taught her how to get out of holds and she had been a good student. She never thought she’d have to use the move against her own ma. Shock widened her ma’s eyes and her bottom lip started to quiver. The look pinched Neala’s heart. With a motion of her head she indicated her friends behind her.
“They are me family too,” she said, hating how her voice shook.
Ciara’s hand tightened around her arm. The comfort that small gesture brought gave her the strength to draw another breath and stand up straight. Cecily stumbled back until she was leaning against Ardal. He wrapped his arms around her as he fixed Neala with a hurt look that stabbed right into her.
Irial let out a loud sigh. “It is not our intention to lose the battle. We will not sacrifice ourselves like ye fear we will,” she said.
Her voice brought Neala a small measure of comfort and her words made her feel less guilty about defying her parents.
A gasp slid from Cecily as Ardal started to turn her away.
“It breaks me heart, but I see there’s no persuadin’ ye,” he muttered.
The last thing Neala saw before her da turned his back on her was the look of disappointment in his eyes.
30
The morning air was almost cool enough to banish the warmth that Neala had absorbed from the night spent by Irial’s hearth. Despite her friend’s hospitality, Neala had gotten very little sleep because she hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her parents.
The cottage was empty as Neala’s parents had already left for the journey west. It was far too quiet in the empty cottage. Even the fire had long since ceased its crackling. Shaking off the weariness that clung to her, Neala dressed and made her way outside. Irial was cleaning a basket of potatoes.
“Would ye like breakfast?” Irial asked.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay, I have to go and talk some sense into me parents. May I borrow one of yer horses?” Neala said.
The knowing look Irial gave her stirred up the pain Neala had thought was gone. She had to convince her parents to hide until the threat was over. If she couldn’t she didn’t know how she’d ever be able to focus.
More than that kept her mind in a constant turmoil though. She still didn’t know what she was going to do about Donal. Aside from worrying about her parents, it was the main reason she hadn’t slept.
“Course ye can,” Irial said.
Before she knew it was coming, Neala was drawn into Irial’s tight embrace. When she finally let go she gripped Neala’s shoulders and gave her a fierce look.
“Best of luck. Ye be careful. Fight without mercy if anyone challenges ye,” she said.
Neala smiled. Despite being worried about her, Irial had faith in her abilities. Why couldn’t her own parents be that way?
“I will, don’t worry,” Neala said.
Irial’s steps slowed as she moved out of the way. Warmth touched the core of Neala’s power. It felt good to know that Irial cared for her and didn’t want her to leave. There had to be a way to bring the people she cared about together.
A few moments later Irial brought out a saddled brown horse. Climbing into a saddle after riding so many years without one felt strange. Not to mention, no horse could compare to Dubh. The very thought stirred up so many questions it made Neala dizzy. Pushing the distractions to the back of her mind, she urged the horse forward.
“I’ll be back by sunset,” Neala called over her shoulder.
The moment she was through Irial’s front garden she let the horse speed up to a canter. She had to put some distance between herself and Irial’s house, and fast. The temptation to turn around and go back to the safety of her Order was too strong. By the time the horse had to slow down to catch its breath they had put enough forest between them and her Order that turning back wasn’t an option. A few moments later she entered the familiar forest of her clan’s territory.
In her mind Neala started going over what to say to her parents. Everything she thought of sounded flawed or pathetic. She knew the arguments Cecily and Ardal would make and she knew what not to say. What to say was the problem. She still hadn’t figured it out by the time she stepped into her ma’s garden.
Not knowing how long she’d be or how things would end, she stopped the horse at the hitching post next to the front door. Before jumping down she wiped her sweaty hands on her breeches and took a few deep breaths. An unfamiliar whinny echoed through the still morning, drawing her gaze to the barn. A big white horse was tied to the hitching post beside the barn. On its back was a saddle of a foreign make that was covered in some kind of animal fur.
Neala drew her sword. It was a Dane’s saddle on the back of that horse. She remembered from when Tyr’s da had brought him here. Nothing on the property was burning or damaged as far as she could tell, so it wasn’t likely that her home was under attack. And there was only one horse. Still, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword as she turned to the house.
Just as the front door opened she recognized the faint trail of energy leading into the house. Tyr. His muscled frame filled the doorway. For a brief moment she thought it was her imagination. But then he spoke.
“Thank Odin you’re here. I can’t talk any sense into your parents.”
The urge to embrace him almost made her run to him but she suppressed it. Instead she sheathed her sword and crossed her arms under her chest.
“Ye left without sayin’ goodbye,” she said.
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. The desire to slap him replaced the urge to embrace him. No, it wasn’t surprise like she thought, Neala realized. The look on his face was remorse. He closed the door behind him and took a step toward her. Several times he tried to start speaking and failed. Finally he looked down and took a deep breath.
“I couldn’t. I knew if I saw you one more time then I would lose my nerve to leave,” he said.
Though his voice was filled with pain Neala was unmoved. Or at least she told herself she was.
“Then why did ye come back?”
“To warn you. My father doesn’t believe me. He and his men are coming here to make sure you’re all dead,” he paused and stepped closer, grabbing hold of her hand. His eyes looked so deeply into her it felt like he was searching for her soul.
“They’re going to kill everyone in the village Neala,” he said.
She started to shake. Feeling in her gut that an invasion was coming and knowing it was about to happen were two very different things. “Why me village?”
“Because the villagers knew you were druids and they kept yer secret all these years,” he said.
“But they gave us up to save themselves,” she said.
“No they didn’t. Someone from the next village over did.”
That surprised her. No one from that village knew about her family. But the village in the other direction…
“Wait, do ye mean the O’Donovan clan?”
“I don’t know their names. They’re northwest of here,” he said as he pointed in the direction of Bren’s village.
It didn’t make sense. The only people there that knew about her were her Order and Dierdre and none of them would ever betray her family. He had to be mistaken. That didn’t matter right now though. The damage was done.
“We have to get ready to fight,” Neala murmured.
Tyr let go of her hand and grabbed her by the shoulders. His gaze became intense and his power rose a bit. It was only a little but it was enough to leave her speechless. Non-druids could only do that when they were affected on a deep emotional level by something.
“No. You have to run. My father is bringing nearly a thousand men. You can’t fight that many. There aren’t enough of you,” he said, his voice catching on the last word.
Neala’s stomach was heavy with dread. The number was almost too big for her to fathom. If all the villages around them combined there was a possibility they could match that force but such a thing wasn’t likely to happen. The clans barely got along.
“But our scouts said they were goin’ around,” Neala said.
“They saw your scouts and they’re using them against you. You have to hurry. They’ll be here by the time the sun rises,” Tyr said.
The desperation written all over his face banished the last of Neala’s doubt.
“We have to at least try and delay them so our clan can escape. Can ye show me where they’ll be approachin’ from?”
His eyes closed and his head dropped. After a few deep breaths he met her gaze again. “Yes. But first you have to convince your parents to go somewhere safer,” he said.
“Easier said than done,” she mumbled as she reached for the door.
“I noticed,” Tyr said.
Neala left her mixed feelings over seeing Tyr again at the door. There was no time to deal with them now. The task ahead of her would take all of her focus. It was a relief that she wouldn’t have to talk to her parents alone. But how much help could one of the enemy be?
31
They hadn’t listened, of course they hadn’t. It was hard to concentrate on the landscape or what anyone was saying when all she could do was worry about her parents. Her Order, along with the other Order that made up the other half of their fiann, was gathered along a rocky cliff side. To their right lay the river and the forest stretching along its banks.
“They’ll come in along the bottom of this cliff, using it to hide themselves and the river to cover the noise,” Tyr explained.
Irial chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. She and Liam exchanged a look and then both smiled. Watching them closely, Neala tried to figure out what they were thinking.
“This will work Tyr, thank ye,” Liam said.
The sound of a longbow string being drawn followed Liam’s words. A sphere of dark green energy engulfed Tyr a heartbeat before an arrow flew at him. The arrow bounced harmlessly off the sphere. Neala spun and saw a bow in the hands of a man belonging to the other Order. Rage called up her power and she let it. She thrust her arm out, fingers pointed toward the man, and sent her power slamming into him. It hit him so hard it lifted him off his feet and threw him back.
The Rector of the other Order—a man who only had a few years on Liam—stepped between his fallen man and Neala.
“Ye would dare strike one of yer own for one of them?” he asked.
Anger burned its way through her veins, renewing her depleted power. Even at full strength she was no match for this Rector, Neala could tell with just one glance at the strong pulse of the man’s power. But
she didn’t care. If she had to she’d fight him to protect Tyr. Irial stepped in front of her, the pressure of her power holding both Neala and the other Rector back.
“One of our own wouldn’t attack a man who was helpin’ us,” Irial said. Her tone was accusing and full of dangerous promise.
“He’s not a man, he’s a barbarian,” the Rector nearly growled.
“A barbarian who is savin’ the lives of our people!” Irial shouted.
Their power pressed against one another’s, crackling in its intensity. This was exactly why invaders kept taking their land. Neala couldn’t just watch it happen. She stepped beside Irial and put a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t easy, like moving through deep water when you were exhausted.
“Stop. If we fight among ourselves then we only make it easier for them to defeat us,” Neala said.
The bowman stood up slowly, his furious eyes fixed on Neala. From behind those eyes she could feel the pressure of his power and knew he was a warrior druid. Another power drew her attention, an achingly familiar one.
Donal stepped beside her, from where she had no idea. His close proximity had a placating effect on her power. It had been his power that had stopped the arrow from killing Tyr, she was certain of it. She spared him a grateful look before turning her attention back to the other Order.
The second Rector of the other Order—a short woman with her long hair wrapped up in a bun—moved to stand beside the male Rector and the bowman. The men’s rigid postures relaxed and the tension drained from their faces.
“Neala is right. The Dane has helped us. He will be unharmed so long as we do not meet on the battlefield,” the woman Rector said.
That wasn’t exactly comforting. Neala opened her mouth with a snide comment on her tongue but Irial’s hand wrapped around hers, silencing her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t speak, just that she knew Irial didn’t want her to. As much as she hated to admit it, Neala knew she was right. Confronting these dolts would have to wait until after the battle.
“Come on. We’ve got a battle to prepare for,” Liam said.
To Ride A Púca Page 26
