To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  “I don’t know how she was standin’ after losin’ so much blood,” Liam said in a voice that was choked with concern.

  Neala hated how distant he sounded, like he was slipping away. Then she realized, he wasn’t slipping away, she was. Everything spun and her vision was getting blurry. It was bad enough that she had to be carried off the battlefield but fainting would be so much worse. She fought with all her willpower to keep her eyes open. But willpower couldn’t compete with blood loss. The next time she opened her eyes she was looking up at a woman she didn’t recognize.

  “There ye are, all fixed up,” the woman said.

  The dull throb of pain and the dizziness were both gone. An inspection showed her arm covered in drying blood but free of any wound. There was a much more profound pain tearing at the very center of her power, though. She clutched at her stomach but the pain couldn’t be reached.

  “Why do I hurt so much? The only blow I took was to the arm.”

  To either side of her sat Irial and Ciara. Both women were crying, though Ciara appeared healed and well now. The pain in Neala’s stomach exploded, consuming her. Something was wrong, really, really wrong. Her eyes darted in every direction. Irial, Ciara, Liam, Bren, Cian, and Donal were all around her.

  “Where’s Kyla?”

  A sob tore through Cian and he turned into Ciara’s embrace. Eyes filled with the same pain that stabbed at Neala’s power, Irial gave her a long look and shook her head.

  “Níl,” Neala cried.

  She sat up slowly, aided by Donal’s hand upon her back. It dawned on her that she was laying in his lap. Under any other circumstances being in this position among their friends would have embarrassed her, but not now. Turning into him, she hugged him tight, reveling in the feel of his solid, breathing body against hers. He clung to her just as desperately. They stayed like that until Neala could draw a breath. Her hands began a frantic exploration of his back and worked their way around to his chest, searching for wounds.

  Donal grabbed hold of her hands and held them still. The magnetic pull of his gaze drew her in. Calm settled into her the moment their eyes met. Blood was splattered on his face and in the strands of unruly black hair that hid half of it, but none of the blood seemed to be his. Neala allowed the tiniest bit of relief to sink in. Only now had it occurred to her how devastated she’d be if anything happened to him.

  “Come on, we should go check on our families,” Liam said.

  His words sent a terrible chill through Neala. It all clicked into place; the missing warriors, Fraener’s absence. The bastard had gone after her family. Neala shot to her feet.

  “Oh no.”

  Donal moved closer to her. “What is it?”

  “Their leader and his closest men weren’t here. The force was short several hundred from what Tyr said it would be. I think they went after our families,” Neala said.

  Everyone started shouting at once. Others took notice and gathered around. Liam’s power flared as he yelled, “Silence!”

  The Order fell quiet. Cian opened his mouth but a stern look from Irial made him close it. Liam turned his attention to the gathered crowd.

  “Everyone listen! The Danes’ Lord and several hundred of his men were missing from this battle. There is a chance this was a diversion and that they led another force to attack our people elsewhere,” he said, voice booming across the quiet valley.

  Agitated chatter broke out among the other druids. Groups started moving off and trickling back across the river to disappear into the forest.

  “So much for comin’ together to fight our enemies,” Ciara mumbled.

  Cian put an arm around her but it didn’t relax the crease in her brow. Neala knew how she felt. The worst may not be over and if they parted ways now they could lose all they’d fought for.

  “This isn’t over! We have to stay together!” Neala shouted at the depleting crowd. Some shook their heads; others made snide comments, but most just continued to walk away.

  Calm seeped into her as Irial’s hand fell upon her shoulder. Frustration burned through the calm brought by Irial’s power and it took every ounce of control she had not to shrug Irial’s hand away. She felt too strongly about this to just let it go. Meeting Irial’s gaze, she let her desperation fill her eyes in hopes of making her Rector understand. Anyone else, she would have just told off, but there was no way she’d disrespect Irial like that.

  “I understand. But they want to check on their families. We can’t blame them for that,” Irial said.

  Every part of Neala screamed at her to argue but she didn’t. Not only was Irial her Rector and someone she respected, she was also right. Holding the druids together in case of another attack was important to her, but checking on her parents was even more important.

  While Neala was struggling internally, the second Order that made up her fiann had started to gather around. There had been nine of them, now there was only seven. Relief that more members of her own Order weren’t among the dead, fought with sympathy for the other Order. Afraid that guilt might show on her face, she dropped her head.

  “We’re going to check on our families but we should meet up at nightfall just in case,” Liam said.

  His words sparked hope in Neala and made her look up. Concern broke through the mask of despair on the other Rector’s face.

  “In case what?” he asked.

  “In case we have to fight again,” Irial answered in a gentle tone.

  “Tonight then,” the Rector said.

  They parted ways without another word. On the other side of the rock outcropping that narrowed the entrance to the valley, they fetched their horses. Many of the animals had gotten loose and scattered, no doubt spooked by the sound of the battle. Luck was with them, for the horses belonging to Neala’s Order remained tethered to the tree line where they had left them. Neala was fairly certain it was due in part to Donal’s influence over them. Before the battle he had calmed them with words in the old tongue.

  “None of us should be alone,” Liam said. “Donal, why don’t ye go with Neala to her place first? We’ll meet ye both at Bren’s ma’s house as quickly as we can.”

  Donal nodded and grasped forearms with Liam. They stared at one another long and hard. Concern and pride flared in their power, all the communication they needed. Seeing Donal accepted into their Order so completely stirred a powerful pride deep in Neala.

  Arms wrapped around her from behind and from the side. She fought back the instinct to throw them off and turn to fight. Without looking she knew they weren’t a threat though, it was only Ciara and Irial. For a moment she allowed herself to bask in their energy and take comfort from their touch. She hugged them back tightly before letting go.

  They kept their farewells brief. Neala couldn’t help looking over her shoulder to watch them ride off in the opposite direction. Watching them go was agonizing but she did it anyway. It could be the last time she saw them.

  33

  Neala’s arms and heart ached from holding her borrowed horse back at a slow canter. She wanted desperately to let her run but beneath Donal’s bulk of solid muscle, his small horse couldn’t keep up. A heavy dread had settled over her since they left the battlefield. The ride wasn’t a long one but it felt as though it was taking forever. Leaving Donal behind wasn’t an option, no matter how much she was worried about her parents.

  As the horses’ hooves stepped onto familiar paths Neala’s stomach clenched. Dark fog hugging the tree tops drew her gaze. Something about it wasn’t right. A bitter scent stung her nose and set her heart to pounding. Her mare shook her head and pulled harder on the reins. She let her go, feeling no release at the burst of speed, only more unease. It wasn’t fog that hung above them, it was smoke.

  Before they burst from the trees, Neala knew it was her home on fire. There were no other farms close enough to create the smoke and the closer they got, the thicker it became. Horror filled her as they took the first steps onto her family’s front garden. Flame
s were devouring her home, their orange and yellow fingers reaching toward a sky turned black with smoke. A quick glance at the barn showed it to be untouched. Embers smoldered on the roof, but considering how wet it always was, there was little threat of it catching fire. But the barn wasn’t her main concern.

  Neala steered the mare toward the house and she took a few strides before stopping. A cry filled with frustration, anger, and regret, tore from Neala. The mare took another few steps then reared onto her hind legs. Neala clung to her with everything she had, channeling a bit of power into her legs to help. When the mare’s front hooves touched the ground, Neala jumped down and started running. She only made it three steps before the searing heat stopped her.

  The entire house was engulfed. There was no way anyone was left alive inside it, but she had to make sure. For the first time since she’d met Bren, she felt like her power was inadequate. If only she were as strong as a Rector then she could command the energy of the fire and maybe get inside.

  “Neala, in here!” called a familiar female voice.

  “Is that Ciara?” Donal asked.

  Neala didn’t answer. It didn’t matter who it was, only what she had said. She had to be talking about Neala’s parents. Her voice had come from the other side of the barn. Legs pumping furiously with the extra power she poured into them, Neala ran for the other side of the barn.

  The sight that awaited her brought her to a skidding stop just outside the barn doors.

  Five mounted warriors were approaching from what was left of the blazing smokehouse beside the barn. The blond braids and horned helms left no question as to who they were. And she would know the first man anywhere. He had the same strong chin and bright blue eyes as Tyr did. On second thought, the only thing his eyes had in common with Tyr’s was the color. Fraener’s eyes were filled with hatred, that and recognition. A violent heave on the reins pulled his massive horse to a stop only a few yards from her. Donal rode his small mare right between Fraener and Neala.

  “Get out of my way slave. It’s time for that little girl to die. I can’t have her confusing my son,” he said.

  Neala drew her sword. Once again the leather-wrapped handle felt good in her hands. Knowing the damage it could do was a comfort right now.

  “Ye mean I can’t have yer son thinkin’ like a human instead of a monster like ye?” Neala asked.

  Movement in the barn drew her attention. On the hay-strewn floor her da lay bleeding from a gash on his head. He wasn’t moving. Beside him knelt her ma, eyes closed as she rocked back and forth, lips moving without making a sound. Between Neala and her parents knelt Ciara, pressing a cloth to Ardal’s head.

  Four Dane warriors entered the barn from the opposite doors, their bulk taking up the huge entrance. Steel rasped against leather as Fraener drew his sword. Neala didn’t know which way to turn. In their state, her parents and Ciara were vulnerable to the Danes. But at her back Fraener was facing off against Donal.

  “Protect yer parents! I’ve got this covered,” Donal called from behind her.

  Without turning to look at him, Neala ran into the barn. Steel clashed outside but she did her best to ignore it. She knew she had to trust Donal or else the distraction would get her killed. Deep down she knew she could count on him. Neala’s eyes snapped to the Danes as they moved closer to her parents.

  “Me ma healed yer Lord’s son, does that count for nothing’?” Neala asked in an attempt to stall the warriors.

  The closest Dane inclined his head. “It does grant her a quick death. But you two, we’ll take our time with.”

  The ringing of swords colliding outside reminded Neala that she didn’t have time for this. Donal might need her help.

  The moment the Dane looked away, Neala took another sliding step closer to Ciara and her parents. There was far too much room between them. If the Danes attacked her parents, Neala wouldn’t reach them in time. The Dane’s gaze shifted back too quickly for Neala to get much closer.

  One of the other Danes stepped closer to Neala, blocking her path. “Either way, you’re all going to die,” he said

  Alarm slammed into Neala, stunning her. From the lascivious look on the man’s face it was clear he planned on more than just killing them. A cry of pain from outside doused the numbness away. It didn’t sound like Donal, but it was hard to be sure.

  Unable to resist, Neala’s head flicked in the direction of the door. One glance wasn’t enough to let her know how Donal was faring in the fight, but it was all she could spare.

  Power built within Neala until she felt like a waterskin that was about to burst. She wasn’t going to let these daft, hateful men hurt anyone she loved.

  The Dane closest to Neala’s parents glanced outside for a fraction of a heartbeat. It wasn’t enough time for Neala to move any closer but she tried. She was forced to freeze in mid-step when the Dane’s eyes flicked back to her. The muscles of his arms flexed, alerting Neala before he moved. The Dane’s sword rose high, right over the back of Neala’s ma’s exposed neck. She was too far away to reach her in time. But Ciara flew to her feet, sword in hand, and intercepted the blow.

  The Dane closest to Neala attacked, not giving her a chance to see how Ciara fared. Using her sword as a channeling device, Neala pointed it at the Dane and poured her power down the length of it. Green-blue energy shot from the tip of her sword and slammed into the Dane. Before the man could respond, he was thrown back into the wall. His sword clanged harmlessly to the ground. His head slammed into a support beam and his eyes rolled back as he slid to the ground. Convulsions wracked his body and then he went still.

  Neala moved to help Ciara defend her parents, but there was no need. With a grunt of disgust, Ciara wrenched her sword from the other Dane’s chest. Together, the two girls turned their fury on the remaining two Danes. By channeling their power through their arms and weapons, they were easily able to exceed the speed and strength of the Danes. The men fell beneath their blades in moments. After giving Ciara a look that she hoped carried the weight of her gratitude, Neala turned to her parents.

  So great was her concentration on her meditation that Neala’s ma hadn’t even looked up.

  The clamor of steel colliding outside grew louder. Between collisions Neala heard feet shuffling closer. Power pressed at her from the barn entrance as the fight moved inside. The feel of that power told her Donal was still alive. She spun around just in time to see him back toward her as he struggled to fight off two huge men. A lunge carried her easily out of the way and put her between the fight and her parents. There was no way she could give up ground now.

  One of the towering warriors fighting Donal was Fraener, the other was a red-haired man Neala had never seen. A quick glance outside revealed three bodies on the ground. Any other time Donal probably would have defeated them all already but Neala knew the battle had worn him out. The glow of his power was all but depleted. Battle weary and unable to draw on his power, she feared he would fall to these brutes eventually. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “I’ve got this one, ye take the redhead,” Donal yelled.

  Despite the situation, Neala smiled. He trusted her to take care of herself, something Bren had never done. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she could right now. Exhaustion was starting to take its toll. But she had no choice. Deep down she knew she’d fight until she was defeated to protect not only her parents, but Donal.

  Ciara smiled and moved up beside her.

  Raising their swords, they moved closer to the man. He was so tall Neala had to keep a bit of distance between them to maintain eye contact. Her eyes scanned his body and she took notice of where all the gaps and flaws in his armor were. It was hard not to be intimidated by how broad and muscular the man was. She felt tiny next to him. Doubt gnawed at her but she shook it off. More than just her life depended on this.

  Laughter tumbled from the red-headed Dane’s lips and he let his sword drop low. “Girls shouldn’t play with swords. Why don’t you put that down s
o I don’t have to hurt you,” he said. His hungry eyes crawled across her in a way that left her feeling dirty.

  Neala replied by plunging her sword at a gap along the side of the man’s armor. The blade slid into flesh just below his ribs. It didn’t go in nearly as deep as she had expected and it was so far to the left of his stomach it had probably missed anything vital. Her lack of power was making her slow and weak. Still, it was a successful hit and had drawn first blood. Surprise and pain wiped the lustful look from the man’s face.

  “And warriors shouldn’t drop their guard. Ye should worry about yerself getting’ hurt, not me,” she said, doing her best to sound confident and cocky.

  Their banter allowed Ciara to move behind the man unnoticed. A quick look showed yet another Dane moving up on Ciara’s left. Neala tried to tell her with a flick of her head and a meaningful look. Ciara nodded and turned to engage the other Dane.

  “You’re really gonna wish you hadn’t done that,” the man said through gritted teeth.

  Taking a step back, he adjusted his armor with one hand, shifting it so that the straps held the wound closed. Without warning he exploded at her, sword swinging faster than any man that big should have been able to move. It was all she could do to block the strikes that rained down on her. The shock of his powerful blows left her arms shaking and her wrists hurting. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get a strike in. The strange part was, neither did he. Then she realized that was because he wasn’t trying to.

  Their swords met again, the impact reverberating down her arms and into her shoulders. Instead of pulling back for another strike, he whipped the blade of his sword around hers and as the tip came close to her hand guard, he flipped his blade out. Neala’s sword went flying, leaving her feeling like she’d lost a limb. Surprise rooted her to the spot as he drew back his sword again. She prepared to dodge his blade but it never came.

  The pommel of his sword slammed into the side of her head. The sweet, moldy scent of old hay filled her nose as she hit the floor. A mixture of pressure and pain throbbed through her head. Something warm trickled down through her hair and tickled her ear. All this registered as she scurried across the floor and put her back to the wall of a horse stall. The red-headed man sheathed his sword as he approached her. The awful, hungry look in his eyes made a mixture of panic and disgust churn in Neala’s stomach.