Renewed Magic (The Ancient Magic Series Book 2)

by Stephany Wallace

  The portal opened in front of the mountain on the other side of the river. Art and I moved forward, towards the entrance to the cave that was currently Felix’s hostel of sorts. We had brought him with us after his own father, Marcus, a member of the Brotherhood of the Dying Moon, had left him behind while gravely injured. We had healed Felix and watched over him. Nevertheless, my mission remained to protect my people. I would never bring danger into our home.

  We stood in front of the curtain of green vines that covered and masked the rocky entrance. I waved my hand, feeling the magic inside me awake and rush through every inch of me.

  “Glanadh an t-slighe”—Clear the way.

  The vines slowly moved and slid out of the way, resembling snakes. Art and I walked through the wet cavern, guided by the torches of enchanted blue fire that lit the way. Walking deeper into the mountain we finally arrived at the cave. The familiar whistling noise of Eisha's axes flying through the air alerted us to her presence.

  "Daingead!" Art cursed, and we rushed inside.

  “A chara," I said, in a soft yet warning tone.

  She stiffened as though we had taken her by surprise. The thought puzzled me. No one could take Eisha by surprise. Her back was to me, as she seemed to take a calming breath. In that instant, I felt the anger and pain rolling like waves from her essence. My eyes settled on Felix, and I realized he was pinned to the wall by her axes. They were crisscrossed over his neck. The wooden handles held him in place while the blades were wedged in the stonewall behind him. The blades were within an inch of his skin, and I could see a thin red line on the right side. His eyes were wide, and his hands were trying desperately to pull the axes away. He was struggling to breathe.

  "Eisha," I called again, it was meant as a command, not a request.

  Her head was low as she gazed at me over her shoulder. A tear was upon her cheek. My concern for her grew. Her eyes returned to Felix, and she walked towards him, roughly pulling the axes free from the wall. He stumbled away from her, holding his neck, and gasping for air. She followed, his steps slow and purposeful, like a tigress taunting her prey. She stopped and leaned in until her face was within an inch of his.

  "Do not tempt me, filthy Roman. I am not a Druid like my brother behind me. I am a Warrior, and I shall not hesitate to kill you." Her voice was clipped and full of promise. Turning around, she stuck the axes to her harness and walked passed me, but my brother held her arm, stopping her before she could step out of the cave. He accompanied her out.

  I sighed, leaving my brother to talk to her outside. I walked towards Felix.

  “How are you feeling?”

  He chuckled humorlessly, and it provoked a cough. "Don't pretend that you care about my wellbeing while you have me trapped in this fucking place, and your friend just tried to kill me!"

  His words would have been harsher if he actually had the strength to speak. The air whistled through his lips as he struggled. He was weak. The Felix that stood before me was but a shadow of the man we had brought here.

  "If Eisha wanted you dead, you would be." I sighed and took a step forward. "I am a Druid. I revere all life, and that includes yours, Felix. Nothing will harm you here. You have my word. I will not allow it."

  A peculiar expression crossed his face after my statement. He regarded me silently as I did him. It was as though a part of him wished to believe my words but he could not allow himself to trust. I tried to sense his essence, but it felt far from me, dormant.

  "Did you expect me to bring you into my home after your ancestors have spent centuries killing our people? After your family killed Nels, my mentor, and Briana's grandfather? You captured her and Lia and stood silently while they were tortured." I shook my head taking a calming breath, and praying to our Mother Goddess for restraint. "Even I am not capable of such clemency. At least not yet."

  The muscles in his jaw tightened and his gaze averted mine. He remained silent while I observed him. He had on the linen shirt and pants my brother and Cathair had changed him into. Yet his body barely filled the clothes. We had attempted to keep him nurtured while he was in air ais bhroinn. He needed real food. His bones were prominent under his skin, he had lost much weight, and I could tell he was struggling to remain standing. Yet he did. I was certain he would not allow himself to look weak before my eyes. He considered us the enemy thanks to the lies he had been fed during the length of his existence. My gaze shifted to the sack in my hand and opened it. I walked closer to him and pulled two pieces of bread from the sack. I placed them on a cloth on top of the small table next to his bed. The water carafe followed.

  "You must eat something. You have healed. Nevertheless, your body is starved for the nourishment." His eyes shifted to the table, and he swallowed. I could see the need in his eyes. He searched the room, as though looking for an exit. His gaze settled behind me then he looked at me.

  “How long have I been here? What have you done to me?” He demanded.

  “We healed you. We have not harmed you in any form.”

  “How long have I been here?” He snarled. His voice leaked of desperation and fear. “Answer my question, Druid!”

  I sighed. "Three months. We brought you here right after the battle."

  His eyes widened, and he looked around perplexed. "How can that be? I just woke up. I remember… I remember passing out from the pain."

  His hand reached his side where the wound had once been. He could not find it. His brows creased as he pulled the shirt off and frantically felt his skin. There was nothing. Not even a scar marred his body. The magic had healed him well. My concern grew once my gaze traveled over his bare chest. He desperately needed sustenance. His unfocused eyes roamed the room while he tried to process what I had said. His gaze finally settled on me.

  “I don’t understand. Was I in a coma?”

  “You were in air ais bhroinn. It is an enchantment that makes you sleep while your body regenerates and heals. The magic provides your body with the necessary nutrients to survive, but now that you have awoken. You must eat.”

  He shook his head, trying to grasp the information. His chest rose and fell harshly. He was becoming agitated, and I could see the rage begin to cloud his eyes. It did not help his current state.

  “So what is this? Is this my prison? Will you torture me too until you get what you want from me?”

  I looked at him concerned. He would not take the news well. Nonetheless, he deserved the truth. “You were left behind on the grass with a wound that should have taken your mortal body. We brought you here and healed you. We have looked after you to make sure you awoke.” I looked into his eyes, attempting once again to feel his essence. I was not able. It seemed shielded somehow. I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

  “You are lying! That is all you know how to do. Lie. Manipulate people. My father is not like you, Druid.” He spat the word like it was venom on his tongue. “He would never leave me to die. The Brotherhood would never leave me behind! Leigh told us what you did to your own people. How you left women and children to die in the attack, divided the survivors and sent them to their deaths at sea. Unprotected. He told us what you did to them on the beach. Cursing them to an eternal life they didn't ask for. How you shoved your way into his father's life, winning his affection and forced him to push his own sons aside. You treated Leigh like he was nothing even though he was the son of the High Priest and in line to take his place. You cared about no one but yourself and the power you could gain through magic. It is your fault all those people died. It's your fault that Leigh's brother died!"

  My fists trembled from the effort it was taking not to fall into his trap. The images of that night were alive and vibrant in my mind, and I did not believe they would ever diminish. I had done what my Àrd-shagart had asked of me. I had done my best to protect them. To save my people. Nels had taken Art and I in after our parents died. He had been like a father to me, and I had regarded Leigh and Gildas as my family. I still did. I took a deep breath call
ing on my inner strength. This was not Felix, but Leigh's hurtful words. I searched my mind and heart for what I had possibly done to Leigh to cause his misguided anger and resentment towards me. I found nothing.

  “We are not the monsters your people have made us. We are not the ones hunting and killing innocent people. We...”

  “You captured me for revenge, to torture me for what happened! I will not be your prisoner, Druid. I demand you let me go, right now!”

  “I am afraid I cannot do that. I will not risk you bringing the other Romans here, to our home. They will continue killing my people. I cannot let that happen. You must remain here.”

  “No. I need to leave this place!”

  I crossed my arms, took a deep breath and waited for him to understand what he asked of me was impossible. “I cannot.”

  “I said, let me go!”

  Felix yelled and attacked. Using the only strength he possessed, he took hold of my neck attempting to strangle me. Before he could squeeze, blue flames leapt onto his skin and guttural screams filled the air. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with horror and pain as his skin began to burn and blister under the magical flames.

  “Sìoladh”—Recede.

  The fire vanished leaving his skin scorching. Felix’s eyes found me as he trembled from the pain.

  “Allow me to heal you.”

  He backed away from me. His shaking body fell on the bed. He ground his teeth. His jaw tightened in an attempt to control the screams.

  "Did you really think we wouldn't use a protection spell in here? Idiot." Art's voice reached me as he returned to the cave. He stood next to me. My gaze searched for Eisha, but my brother was alone. "If you try to harm us in any way, you will burn. Hell, if you even think about touching us your skin will melt, so I would advise for you to use your brain and behave while you are here, Roman." Art's words were filled with disdain.

  I sighed yet again. There were too many emotions in this place. “We do not wish you any harm, Felix. Nevertheless, I will not allow you to hurt any of us. If you attempt it, the flames shall return.”

  I was certain he wanted to answer me, but it was evident he was struggling to remain steady. His breathing was labored, and his body was shaking. He was going into shock. The burns were severe. I walked towards him. His eyes never left me. I sat beside him on the bed and gently held his hands.

  “Ar ais sláinte,”—Restore health.

  A fierce scream leaked through his teeth as the magic reversed the injury. Finally, his body gave up and he fell onto the mattress, unconscious. I held his hands until his skin returned to its natural form. He was fully healed, the ring of the Brotherhood of the Dying Moon sat on his middle finger.

  I let go of his hands like the ring had burned me and stood. It was a symbol of everything my people had suffered. My gaze met Art's, and he shook his head, confirming my troubled thoughts.

  “We cannot allow Briana to enter this place.”

  BRIANA

  * * *

  My fingers slid over the smooth and freshly oiled leather that Seima had laid on her worktable. It was a rich brown color and smelled so good.

  “I always liked the smell of leather. It’s super weird I know, but I used to smell purses and wallets in the stores. I can tell right away when something is real or not. It’s like my super power,” Lia said proudly. Seima and I chuckled.

  “I love leather too.” I agreed, rubbing the oiled cloth on the leather again just the way Seima had taught me.

  “That is perfect Òga-solas. Now we need only let it rest and give it time to absorb it. To become whole and welcome his new destiny.”

  She smiled and removed the leather, hanging it on a long wooden rack where the other large pieces hung.

  "What does it mean? What did you called me? I didn't understand, and I haven't heard that word before." I asked while she took a long piece that seemed ready and returned to the table.

  “Òga-solas. It means young light.” She answered putting the leather on the table and caressing it with her hands as she straightened it. It covered the whole surface and still hung on the sides. “The High Priests of the Order are considered our light. They guide us and protect us spiritually. They provide us with knowledge and peace which enlightens our souls.”

  She stopped, apparently finished with her inspection and pleased by the result. She slid the material towards her left until the end section was in front of her. She took one of the tools on the canister, it was some sort of rotary tool that looked like a pizza cutter except it had little pointy edges, and effortlessly glided it over the leather marking it each curve her hand created. She stopped and stood back appreciating the pattern she had detailed on it. Next, she reached for the canister again and took a scary looking knife from it. She swiftly glided it against a scrap of thick leather that hung from the wall, and it made a smooth incision on it. Like a hot knife through butter.

  “Perfectly sharp.” She smiled. “One must always check the edge of the blade before creating a masterpiece.”

  She chuckled, and her hand began retracing the curves she had previously created. Her movements were so graceful and precise I had no doubt she had done this a thousand times. It was mesmerizing to watch her do it. Before I realized it, she was done. She stepped back to admire it, and it was then I realized that she had cut a vest. Three pieces of it to be exact. She removed the side panels and placed them on the rest of the leather on the left side, then moved the back panel to the center. Bending down she pulled two big, flat slabs of rock from under the table. The muscles on her arms tensed, defining every inch of her shoulders and biceps. It immediately reminded me of the other side of her personality. The Warrior in her. She placed them on the table and separated them. I noticed one of the slabs had an iron plate underneath. It had edges and curves. It was a stamp. I followed its curves, discovering what the patterned formed and gasped.

  “It’s the Clan Symbol! You are making a Warrior vest.”

  She grinned and nodded. Lia stood on the other side of her, and we both watched in amazement. She placed the back panel on the bottom slab and carefully put the top with the Clan Symbol on it. The curves of the iron sunk into the thick leather as the stones' weight pushed it down. Seima held two brackets I hadn't noticed until now, and closed them on either side of the slabs then removed the whole piece and placed it on the right end of the table.

  "I had no idea you were the one that made the Warrior suits," I said, still amazed at how easily she worked on it.

  "My Mother was the seamstress of the village. One of the best we have ever had. She was chosen to make the Warrior suits, and my Father worked the leather for the coats and shoes our people needed. They taught me everything I know." She smiled, and I could tell she was reliving it. She reached for a thick needle the size of my index finger and put a thick thread in it. Then began to stitch the other two panels together. "I used to sit in my father's workshop for hours as a child. My mother used to say I was the son he never had." She chuckled; caressing the edges of the panel then continued stitching. "I loved sitting there, just observing him. I worshipped my father. The way he made the shoes and stitched them together. The smell of the leather as he worked on it, was so rich. It always stayed on his hands long after he was done. Mother used to complain about it all the time, but I cherished it. As I became a young woman, I began to show more interest in my mother's sewing. She used to make the most beautiful embroidery. Worthy of any queen. She made wedding dresses and the High Priest's robes. No one could stitch like she did. She had a true gift." She looked at me, and the pride in her smile was moving. She leaned in towards Lia and I, like she had a secret to tell us. "She once used a magical silver thread on a dress. She said, it was given to her by the Fae. It was a special request for their queen.”

  “Fae? As in Fairies??” I asked shocked.

  “Fairies are real??” Lia squealed at the same time.

  Seima chuckled and nodded. “Of course they are.” She answered as if our
question was the silliest thing she had ever heard.

  "What happened to your parents?" Lia asked bringing Seima back to reality. Her smile turned sad.

  "They passed on long ago. My father died during the plague, but my mother passed away after she was an old woman. They had conceived me after they were both matured adults. Love found them later in life. After they thought they would never find it. It should not have been possible for them to conceive but my mother told me she prayed to our Mother Goddess every night for a full year, asking her to please give her one more blessing. She already had my father, but they needed a baby. A few months after she found out she was with child, and later I was born. My mother used to say I was a gift from the Goddess."

  "We are sorry for your loss," I said, truly meaning it.

  She shook her head. “You need not be. My parents loved each other plenty and lived a very happy life. The Goddess blessed them when they had me. They were fulfilled. Now they are in the Blessed Isles, looking down on me.”

  She placed the sewn half vest on the table and removed the back panel from between the slabs. The tree of life with the clan symbol on its roots was beautifully stamped on the leather. It looked gorgeous. She looked at me and chuckled, apparently realizing she hadn’t finished her earlier explanation.

  “My apologies, leather and I have an intense love affair.” We chuckled, and she faced me, taking my hand. “I called you Òga-solas because like the High Priests before you, there is a light in your essence that glows, and surrounds you. It is small now, but with time and guidance it will grow and become a beacon to us. Just as the other Priests’ have. Like Cynwrig has. Never harbor any doubts of whether or not you belong here. That light inside you is the proof that you do.”

  My eyes watered and I nodded. Seima hugged me like she was hugging a sister, or someone that meant a lot to her, and I welcomed it. My gaze connected with Lia's as she nodded confirming what Seima had said. Then her eyes widened.