To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  Lifting her chin, she held his gaze. “Magic doesn’t frighten me.”

  One corner of his mouth started to rise in a near-smile. “I didn’t imagine it would. I’m about to get naked though and I wasn’t sure ye were ready to see that.”

  A gasp sounded from Ciara as she picked up Donal’s sword belt. “All right then, I’m just going to get the cart prepared,” she said as she backed quickly away.

  Neala swallowed hard as she watched her friend retreat into the barn. Turning her gaze back to Donal took a monumental effort of will. Her mind flashed back to that day on the cliff.

  “Wait, if ye must get naked when ye shift, then how did ye have clothes on the day ye saved Ciara and me?” she asked.

  One dark eyebrow lifted and Donal inclined his head. “Me kind can also cast mild illusions. Comes in handy when one suddenly needs to appear to be clothed.”

  A shiver traveled through Neala. He had been naked. Naked! She’d been pressed up against him at one point. Her cheeks burned so powerfully with the memory that she feared she may catch fire.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage in a breathy voice.

  Armor fell to the floor, followed by his jerkin and boots. The hard planes of his dark-skinned bare chest held Neala enthralled. As his hands started to work on the strings of his breeches she quickly raised her eyes to his. There was a twinkle in their green depths.

  “Truly Neala, ye don’t need to watch,” he said.

  She straightened, eyes locked on his. “I want to.” Her face flushed hotter as she realized that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Deep down she knew she needed to see this, to make sure she could handle what he was. As long as she didn’t look down, she figured she could handle it.

  With a nod, he bent and dropped his breeches. To avoid following him with her gaze, she closed her eyes until she was sure he had stood back up. A flash of his bright smile amidst the dark skin of his handsome face was the last she saw before he started to change. It was fast and fluid, a shimmer like water flowing over rocks. A heartbeat later the bulk of a massive black stallion took up the space where he’d been.

  The energy that was Donal’s power remained, though it was muted behind his animal form. Still, a part of it pulled at Neala. She moved forward and placed her hand upon the flat of his equine nose. It was strange, seeing Dubh and knowing he was really Donal. But he was still her best friend, and she guessed in a way that meant Donal was.

  Eyes closing, he pressed his head against her hand. A desperate need to stop him from leaving gripped her. She opened her mouth to beg him to stay beside her, but the words stuck in her throat. He pulled away from her hand, spun on his hind legs, and trotted from the barn.

  Watching him leave hurt more than any wound she had suffered that day.

  35

  With Tyr’s help it took no time at all to hitch up the geldings and get her parents loaded into the cart. Salvaging their meager belongings that were stored in the barn was taking a bit longer though.

  “Are we going to Tir na nóg?” Ardal asked.

  Part of Neala hated that he would ask her that. Sure, he was wounded but he was her da, he was supposed to take care of her. Of all the times she had wanted him to treat her like a grownup, this was not one of them. But Neala pushed aside such childhood notions and explained what they were going to do. Ardal’s eyes rolled skyward and she realized he was watching the tendrils of thick, black smoke that wrestled their way through the sky.

  His gaze dragged over to where Cecily lay sleeping beside him, exhausted from healing. “How will we pay for passage on a ship?” he asked. “Our ancestors’ treasure was hidden in the house. We haven’t the coin for fare without it.”

  Cold fingers of dread started to close around Neala, but a twisted hope shoved them away. Maybe this meant they wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe it was for the best. There was a chance the Danes wouldn’t follow them too far. If the forces retreated then they could come home and rebuild. It was possible.

  “Ye’ll find a way,” Tyr said as he heaved a bag of grain into the cart next to Ardal.

  “No. We have to get the treasure,” Ardal argued.

  He struggled to sit up, but only ended up collapsing back into the hay. Beads of sweat sprung up on his brow and his breathing became labored. The desperation that filled his eyes broke Neala’s heart. It was more than just their ancestors’ treasure; it was the legacy of their family, of their druid line.

  The crackle and snap of the inferno that had swallowed her home echoed in the background. Flames and smoke were all she could see. When it stopped burning—which from the looks of it would be a long time—there would be nothing left.

  “We can’t da,” she murmured.

  The smoke stung her eyes and made her vision blur. She turned away and wiped at her face. Something fluttered before her and she swiped at it, assuming it was falling ash. But the shape let out a little cry and dodged her hand. Tiny purple wings beat so fast she could hardly make them out, but the blond figure they held aloft was clear and still as could be. It was such a relief to see the fairy alive that Neala cried out. Next to her Tyr took a quick step away and muttered something in his strange language. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the cart.

  “I’m so glad ye survived the battle Flora,” Neala told the fairy.

  Flora gave her a sad smile and darted in to touch Neala’s arm. The little creature looked bruised and weary and her armor was dinged and dented. Clearly she had fought hard and done her part to try and hold off the invaders. All their efforts had been for nothing though. Their people had still died and the invaders were still coming. A sharp pain in her arm snapped Neala’s attention back to Flora. She had pulled the tiny hairs on Neala’s arm and was now darting about in an agitated state. She fluttered away a little and looked back expectantly at Neala.

  “I can’t. We have to leave,” Neala told her.

  Floating a little farther away, Flora pointed. Neala glanced at Tyr’s retreating back. He would be busy for a few more moments at least loading their possessions into the cart. The fairy appeared right in front of her again, this time tugging on the dirty locks of Neala’s hair.

  “All right, all right. But we have to be quick,” Neala said.

  Flora darted away, a purple streak against the smoky landscape. A shuddering sigh rattled through Neala as she followed her friend for the last time. The fairy stopped at a pine tree close to the barn and alighted upon a root that stuck up near the base of the trunk. Her face scrunched up in concentration as she reached deep into the grooves of the bark.

  Beside her a small portion of the trunk slid aside, revealing an opening from which light spilled. Flora flew into the opening and came back out struggling beneath the burden of a pearl necklace too big for her tiny hands to easily hold. Neala recognized the necklace, it was her ma’s. Flora draped it over Neala’s hand and darted back into the opening. This time she came back out struggling with a broach big enough to serve as a shield for her kind. She laid it at Neala’s feet and went back for more.

  Neala fell to her knees on the soft blanket of pine needles and scooped the broach up. It had belonged to her grandma. This was their family treasure! Flora emerged with a massive emerald ring. Neala let out a surprised laugh and reached into the tree trunk. The handful of stuff she grabbed was too big to pull out the small opening. She was forced to drop a bit. After only a few handfuls she had a pile of jewels, coins, and jewelry at the base of the tree.

  The cubbyhole started to empty, forcing Neala to reach deeper inside. Something sharp poked her finger and she yanked her hand back.

  “Ouch!”

  A drop of blood was beading up on the side of her finger. She stuck it in her mouth and glared at the opening in the trunk. A creature resembling a tiny human shot out. It waved a spear at Neala as it spoke rapidly in a strange language, its long tail flicking in an agitated arc behind it with each word. Another of the creatures came out to join it, then a third.


  “Brownies,” Neala grumbled.

  The little menaces had probably been stealing from Neala’s family treasure for years. She had never seen her ma or da check on it. Once the brownies found the hiding place it would have been easy.

  A high-pitched shriek emitted from Flora as she darted down and hit one of the brownies in the shoulder. The brownie took a stumbling step back, a look of fear on its face. The other brownies ran and cowered behind the first. They exchanged heated words in their strange language until finally slumping and turning away in defeat.

  Using her tunic like a basket, Neala started loading up the treasure.

  One of the brownies re-emerged cradling a ruby that looked huge in its small arms. It dropped it onto the pile at Neala’s knees and went back into the hole. Another came out and deposited a stack of gold coins. The procession continued until there was a heaping pile before her. The hoard must have taken up over half the tree trunk. Empty-handed at last, the brownies stood staring up at Neala as if awaiting their fate.

  All she could feel as she looked at them was sorrow. The Danes were going to come and cut down the forest, destroying these poor creatures home as surely as they had Neala’s. If it weren’t for the brownies her family’s treasure would be lost. Their thievery could save the lives of the people she loved. It seemed ironic that she had always treated them as a menace.

  “Come with us,” Neala told them.

  The brownies and the fairy chatted amongst one another, their voices like chimes and so quiet Neala could scarcely hear them. After only a moment they fell silent and Flora flew up to Neala. Sadness filled her eyes as she shook her tiny head. Neala wanted to argue, to try to convince them to come, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she handed each of the brownies a small jewel before rising with her bundle. Turning her back on them felt like turning her back on her homeland. It tore a gash in her heart she didn’t think would ever heal.

  36

  On the morning of the second day of traveling there was still no sign of Donal. Before anyone else awoke Neala gathered as many bluebell flowers as she could find and arranged them into a triangle shape that pointed in the direction they were going. Each one she picked tugged at her heart as she remembered all the times she’d woven them into Dubh’s mane. How could she not have known Dubh was so much more than just a horse? It tortured her to think of all that time wasted between them when she could have been getting to know Donal. But then, in a way, she guessed she had been, she just hadn’t realized it.

  While scrutinizing her handiwork she absently rubbed the knotwork necklace that hung around her neck. Hundreds of people were fleeing along the same route and Neala was worried that all traces of her energy would be covered.

  Her activity drew a few curious fairies that lived in the area. It took very little coaxing to convince them to guard the pile of flowers from destructive brownies or forest creatures. The last of a sweet breakfast biscuit a kind traveler had given her was all the payment the fairies needed.

  By the faint light of the pre-dawn she found her way through the forest and back to camp. Leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest was Tyr. The sight of a blond, muscular Dane made her jump, she couldn’t help it. For a moment her mind imagined maybe the enemy had caught up to them. She had thought she was the only one awake after all. It was silly she knew, but the fear of that happening had kept her from sleeping at night. The hurt look that flashed across Tyr’s face made her curse her reaction.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  Desperate to ease the pain of rejection in his eyes, Neala touched his arm and gave him the best smile she could manage. He was sacrificing so much for her, he deserved at least that. And she did care about him, more than she wanted to really, but it was hard to look at him and not feel guilty. While she was deeply grateful to him, she would have rather had Donal with her. That wasn’t entirely true. If she was going to be honest with herself, she wanted them both here.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m just jumpy,” she said.

  Her fingers splayed across the width of his bicep, covering less than half of it. The pain in his eyes eased a little but the core of it remained. Killing his da had stripped the joy and easygoing attitude from him, leaving him looking haunted. It hurt every time she looked at him, knowing she was the cause of it.

  “We’re all jumpy,” Irial’s voice came from the trees to Neala’s left.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, Neala’s hand fell away from Tyr’s arm. The look on Irial’s face as she stepped to Neala’s side wasn’t judging as Neala feared it might be; it was sad. Whether that sadness was for Tyr, or the fact that he wasn’t Donal, was hard to tell. Irial looped her arm through Neala’s as they walked. Her touch brought Neala such a sense of calm and peace that she let out a long breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

  Yesterday Irial, Liam, and Cian—along with their families in tow—had all caught up with them. Neala’s heart had broken a little when she’d realized Donal, Bren, and Ciara weren’t with them. Most of their families were unharmed but there had been a few casualties. It felt like she wouldn’t be whole again until her Order was back together. But most importantly, one vital piece of Neala was missing; one she hadn’t realized the deep importance of until a few days ago.

  Irial squeezed Neala’s hand. “Cian said he saw Danes camped about a half day’s slow ride behind us. He and the others are helping break camp right now,” she said.

  “They’re following us?” Neala asked.

  “Looks that way,” Irial said.

  It was hard to swallow the lump in her throat, but Neala did it so she could force herself to ask what she didn’t want to know. “How many?”

  “About one hundred.”

  One hand went to her sword as Neala sped up her pace. The pounding of her heart became so frantic it almost hurt. They had to hurry. Her da was still hurt and in need of more healing and her ma was exhausted from feeding him her power. Their geldings could only pull the wagon so fast and they had two other wagons filled with the families of Neala’s Order to worry about as well. They couldn’t afford to lose any lead they had on the Danes.

  They crested the hill and found the entire camp—some thirty druids—loading up their belongings. Liam and Cian were checking the geldings’ harnesses when Neala reached them. Her borrowed mare was tethered to the end of the cart, bobbing her head up and down in impatience. A piercing cry sounded from her as Neala ran up. She freed her with a quick tug on her rope and jumped onto her back.

  Inside the cart she could see her parents sleeping soundly beneath their blankets. It was better that they didn’t know why they were setting out so early.

  Hooves pounded on the rocky ground, announcing Liam’s arrival. He pulled his black and white stallion to a stop a few yards from Neala. Neala’s mare’s tail swished back and forth and she arched her neck in an attempt to impress the stallion. Good. Neala wanted her full of energy.

  “I brushed her for ye and made sure she had her grain,” Cian said as he walked from the other side of the cart.

  Looking down at his eager face, Neala managed a small smile. She wished she could have seen that. No doubt the ornery mare had not made it easy. Since she had told Cian about what happened at her home, how Ciara had helped her, he had been trying to do things for Neala as if to repay her for fighting alongside his sister.

  “Thank ye. She looks splendid. I hope she didn’t bite ye,” Neala said.

  One eyebrow rose and Cian cocked his head. “Níl, but not from lack of tryin’,” he admitted.

  Laughter shook Neala’s chest but didn’t quite make it past her lips. There was no time for even that small joy. A push of her leg turned her mare almost directly into a white horse that stood out far too much in the dark of pre-dawn. The stallion took two swift steps back, barely avoiding the collision. On its back was Tyr, his bright eyes flashing from within the hood of his cloak. Those eyes flicked to the pale horizon.

&nb
sp; “We’d best hurry. They’ll be breaking camp soon,” he said.

  Horses approached, Irial rode on the back of one while leading the other. In all the chaos of the other druids breaking camp, Neala hadn’t even realized Irial had left. Such distraction could get her killed but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t focus no matter how hard she tried to force herself.

  Liam leaned over and touched Irial’s arm. “Tyr’s right. Cian, ye take the cart on ahead. We’ll ride back a bit to make sure the Danes aren’t followin’, then we’ll catch up with ye by midday,” he said.

  They parted ways without another word. As always, Tyr stayed close by Neala’s side. Being on the move helped ease a bit of Neala’s anxiety but only for a moment. Soon her heart was beating in time to the mare’s galloping hooves as her distress came crashing back with enough force to leave her aching. Her eyes scanned the faces of the druids as she and her Order rode by. She knew she wouldn’t find Donal among them but that didn’t stop her from looking every chance she got.

  37

  Tendrils of smoke wound their way skyward from behind the hill that stood between Neala and the town of Limerick. The dry, bitter taste of ash coated the back of her tongue and dread turned her stomach upside down. It didn’t look like enough smoke to portend the destruction of a town the size of Limerick, but it was far more than a few dozen chimneys would cause. It didn’t make sense. They had been so careful to keep on the move and stay ahead of the Danes. The thick, salty taste of tears mixed with the flavor of ash made Neala cough.

  She hadn’t believed the Danes would come this far. But by now she had learned that belief alone wouldn’t be enough to stop it from happening. If the Danes really had come this far then there was no way Neala and her kind could stay in Ireland.

  The world swayed, the sensation growing worse as her horse came to a halt. The mare went very still beneath her. Tension twitched through her muscles, a sign that even she knew something was wrong.