She had the impression of a smile, though she could see no features through the light. He answered, “Your mortal mind could not behold My true brilliance.”
“But I thought I was dead.”
“It is not your time. I still have a task for you.”
“I will do anything You ask of me,” she said immediately. “But how can I do anything for You?”
“Because I choose to bless you, my daughter,” He said gently. “There is a time of great sorrow coming to Seare. If left unchecked, it will spread across the world, destroying all in its path. But there are yet so many who do not know Me, who have never heard My name. It is for love of these multitudes the storm of darkness must be stopped.”
Her heart overflowed with the desire to serve her Lord and Master, even if it meant her own life in sacrifice. “What can I do?”
“Have faith in Me. Seek My wisdom, accept My guidance. It is not for you to know what is to come. Only know I am with you, and there is no task for which My strength is not sufficient.”
“I will do anything You ask,” she said again.
“For your faith, you will be rewarded,” He said softly. “Cling to that when the price seems too much to bear. Now go.”
“Please! Not yet! I want to stay here with You. Please don’t send me back!”
“I will be with you,” came the voice, deep and resonant, as the light faded.
Aine cried out as she was wrenched from His presence, overwhelmed by the utter loneliness of the sudden distance between them. Then pain seared her lungs, and excited voices babbled around her.
Hands pressed on her chest, and a man’s familiar voice pleaded, “Come back to me, Aine.”
She gasped for air. Water exploded from her lungs in a rush. More hands rolled her onto her side, patted her back, held her as she gagged and choked and struggled for breath.
“She’s alive,” the voice said again. Ruarc. “Comdiu be praised, she’s alive!”
As Aine’s consciousness returned, cold set her teeth chattering and her limbs shaking. Familiar faces wore concerned expressions, but she couldn’t put names to them. Someone put a blanket around her, and someone else helped her to her feet.
She was alive.
She recalled the light, but the memory was already fading.
Her feet moved on their own toward the keep while she hung her head and wept.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Aine sat in a chair in the hall, now clothed in a dry shift and covered by furs and blankets. She warmed her shaking hands around a cup of tea, while Ruarc hovered behind her protectively, one hand on her shoulder. Her mind felt clearer now, but her heart still ached.
“I heard Ruarc call me, but when I got there, he was dead.”
Ruarc patted her shoulder awkwardly. “I’m right here, my lady. I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Perhaps you were dreaming,” someone suggested. “Walking in your sleep.”
“No,” she whispered. “It was no dream.”
Eimer pushed to the front. “Enough of this now. She needs rest, not more questions.”
“If she was pushed, we need to know who did it,” Captain Ó Hearn protested. “There may be a murderer among us.”
“No one under your authority, Captain,” Aine mumbled. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”
“That’s enough,” Eimer said. “Come, girl, we’ll get you to bed.”
Aine let herself be led back to her chamber and lay still in her bed while the housekeeper piled blankets atop her. Her eyelids drooped. “I saw Him,” she whispered, her mind returning to that pure, joyful light. “He was beautiful . . .”
“I know,” Eimer said soothingly. “Get some rest. We can talk about it when you wake up.”
Reassured by the recollection of the light, Aine closed her eyes and let herself be taken by a deep, dreamless slumber.
When Aine awoke, she wasn’t sure where she was—Forrais, Lisdara, or Dún Eavan. Then she saw the candlelit earthen walls and remembered the lake’s deathly touch. Eimer rose from her chair in the corner and knelt beside the bed to place her hand on Aine’s forehead.
“How long have I been asleep?” Speaking set off a pounding in Aine’s head that momentarily blinded her.
“A day and a night. It’s morning.”
“Where’s Ruarc? I want to see him.”
“He’s probably still pacing outside your door. He’s been terribly worried. We all have.” Eimer lowered her voice. “Meallachán said something about the bean-sidhe.”
Aine recalled the specter and shuddered. It sounded like the foolish ramblings of a frightened girl. Yet she knew she had heard Ruarc’s voice, knew she had seen his lifeless body before she fell into the lake. Was it her own death the bean-sidhe had been proclaiming?
When Eimer saw Aine wasn’t going to speak more on the subject, she climbed to her feet. “Stay here. I’ll send in Ruarc while I get you some broth.”
The guard entered a few moments later, his face creased with worry, followed by Meallachán a few steps behind. She was still searching for words when Ruarc crushed her into a tight embrace.
“Thank Comdiu,” he whispered. “I thought the worst.”
Aine disentangled herself, touched by his emotional greeting. She had known he was fond of her, but he had never displayed his feelings so plainly. Behind him, Meallachán wore a searching expression.
Ruarc pulled the chair to her bedside. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Aine looked at the bard, who nodded. Hesitantly, she related what she remembered up to the drowning.
“This is troubling,” Meallachán said.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you. Some Balians may believe the sidhe are merely folk superstitions, but even the Scriptures speak of powers of darkness that seek to devour the light. What’s disturbing is that they should choose you.”
Aine shivered beneath the blankets. She had half-hoped the bard would dismiss her tale as a hallucination.
“But that’s not all, is it?” Meallachán prompted. “You died. What did you see?”
“Lord Balus spoke to me,” Aine said, recognizing as she did how fantastic it sounded. In the presence of the supernatural light, what she had seen and heard seemed completely plausible. But now . . . why would Lord Balus, Master of all creation, speak directly to her? Why would He choose an insignificant Aronan girl to play a part in the future of Seare?
Aine looked at Ruarc. “Do you believe me?”
Ruarc hesitated. “I’m a simple man, Aine. What I have seen, I would not have thought possible. But the fact you are here, alive, seems proof enough without the other.”
“The other?”
“I woke to someone—or something—standing in my room. He told me you were in need of help and exactly what I should do. I roused the guards, and there we found you, floating facedown on the surface of the lake.”
“Surely you can’t mean you were visited by a Companion!”
Ruarc said nothing, but his expression told her she had guessed right.
“A Companion,” Aine whispered.
“There’s something I think you should see,” the bard said.
Aine pushed herself up and wrapped her dry cloak around herself. Ruarc helped her to her feet and ushered her to the keep’s entrance.
“Do you recall all those nights praying for protection?” Meallachán asked. “Look.”
Aine stepped out into the blinding morning light. Every last person on Dún Eavan had gathered at water’s edge, staring wordlessly across the loch. She followed their gazes. Beyond the island, a roiling mass of gray mist hovered over the water and spread back toward the shore. Before it, glowing columns of golden light held it at bay. Aine could just make out vaguely human shapes holding swords of white flame at their centers.
“I don’t believe it.” A wave of dizziness hit her, and her knees gave way. Ruarc caught her just before she struck the ground. In that instant, bot
h the mist and the Companions vanished from sight, leaving only clear air and the glimmering surface of the water.
“They’re gone!” someone cried in dismay. As if a spell had been broken, the others began to murmur in confusion.
“They’re not gone,” Aine said. “Just unseen. Comdiu granted us the vision to perceive what few ever have.”
The crowd gaped at her, at last registering her presence. As Ruarc helped her to her feet, Niamh pushed to the front and threw her arms around Aine. “You’re awake! Did you see them?”
“I saw them.” Aine’s knees buckled again, and she sent Ruarc a pleading look. Wordlessly, he picked her up like a child and carried her back to her bedchamber, away from the awe-stricken looks and frantic questions rumbling on Dún Eavan’s shore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brother Slaine brought his concerns to Riordan on the way back from morning drills. That the stern man would seek him out at all was odd enough, but for once, Slaine actually seemed concerned.
“There’s something wrong with your nephew.”
Riordan frowned. Slaine was not given to exaggeration. “How so?”
“Brother Reamonn said he broke down weeping in the fields and since then he’s been attacking his work like a man possessed. Eoghan told me he’s grieving. Over a woman.”
Riordan’s eyebrows flew up. “A woman?”
“That’s all he’d say. He told me to ask Master Liam.”
“I see.” Uneasiness crept into Riordan’s gut. “Thank you, Brother Slaine. I’ll see what I can find out.”
Riordan had been headed to the barracks, but now he switched directions and started for Carraigmór instead. A woman. Given the recent news from the kingdoms, he could guess what this was about. He proceeded directly to Liam’s study and let himself in without knocking.
“What did you tell my son?” he demanded.
Liam turned from the bookshelves, a heavy folio in hand. “Good morning, Riordan.”
“What did you tell him?”
“About what?” Liam took his seat.
Riordan’s irritation built. “Don’t be evasive. I know the news from Dún Eavan as well as you. Conor seems to think your sister is dead. How did he hear that, I wonder?”
“I didn’t say she was dead. I merely said she was in Comdiu’s hands, and he needed to move on.”
Riordan raked his hand through his hair. “What else could he think, Liam?”
“The boy was holding onto his past. His love for Aine will keep him from devoting himself to his training.”
“You mean it will keep him from fulfilling your great plan. You haven’t been honest with me, and I’ve let it pass because I trusted you had some greater vision. But in this, I can’t stay silent. It’s cruel to let him believe someone he loves is dead.”
Liam rose and circled the desk to stand before Riordan, his gaze steely. It was the first time the Ceannaire had ever attempted to use his considerable physical presence to intimidate him. Even though Riordan stood taller by several inches, it took effort to stand firm.
“Do you not believe the greater plan warrants what you call cruelty? Do you not think a united Seare is worth a little grief? The boy will never fulfill his true destiny if he believes it is a woman.”
Riordan stared back, unflinching. “Do you believe doing harm is part of Comdiu’s plan? Is our God so ineffective He needs your deception to accomplish His work?”
Each held the other’s gaze for a long, tense moment. Finally, Liam returned to the desk. “You will not mention this to Conor. I had hoped for the sake of our friendship you would respect my wishes. But if that is no longer enough of an incentive, you may consider it an order.”
Riordan clenched his jaw against an angry retort. Finally, he gave a terse nod and exited the study. He had spent most of his adult life at Ard Dhaimhin, and obedience to authority was as automatic as breathing. But for the first time, Riordan could not accept Liam’s judgment over his own conscience. The Ceannaire was wrong to believe Comdiu’s plan could be accomplished through deceit, even if he strayed dangerously close to revealing something Riordan was afraid to believe.
If Conor was to become the leader Liam believed him to be, he needed to enter into it clear-sighted, free from manipulation. The Ceannaire might have issued an order, but Riordan’s loyalty was to his conscience. Whatever the consequences to him personally.
Liam slumped in his chair, head in his hands. If his visions were true, their time drew ever shorter. Even now, the druid moved Tigh closer to a conquest that would consume Seare. The pressure to find and train the one who would stand against this spread of evil mounted with each passing season.
Still, he could not help feeling he had made a grave miscalculation. He had underestimated the depth of Conor’s feelings for Aine, far more profound than he would have expected from one so young. In his fumbling, he may have irreparably damaged his friendship with his most trusted adviser.
Riordan had reached the limits of his loyalty. He would act according to his conscience, even if his disobedience meant expulsion from the brotherhood or worse.
Liam was counting on it.
Conor performed his duties through a veil of grief. Outwardly, he was the perfect Fíréin novice, working without complaint and without emotion. Inside, he felt hollowed out, empty, distanced from even the movements of his own body.
Riordan was waiting for him when he returned from hauling nets with an elder brother. Conor dragged the boat onto the shore and donned the tunic and boots he had left there earlier.
“May I have a word with you?”
Conor shrugged, but he walked with Riordan away from the lake.
“I heard you went to see Liam.”
Conor stiffened. He didn’t want to discuss the matter. Even Eoghan had avoided the topic after their single lakeside conversation.
Riordan grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. “I’ve been forbidden to tell you this, Conor. Liam would have me expelled from Ard Dhaimhin.”
Conor’s heart beat faster at the words, but he said nothing, waiting.
“Aine is not dead. She didn’t drown.”
Conor lowered himself onto a boulder beneath a stand of trees. “How is that possible?”
Riordan squatted down beside him and pitched his voice low. “After you left Lisdara, Calhoun sent the girls to Dún Eavan. I’ve heard rumors about the old fortress, but I’ve never given them much thought. Something tricked Aine into going down to the lake and pushed her in.”
Conor drew in a long, shuddering breath, remembering his own encounters with the sidhe.
“Her guard pulled her out in time. They say she called on Comdiu’s Companions to protect her. Dozens of people saw them.”
Conor didn’t dare to accept what Riordan told him. He had spent days believing Aine was dead, and now he learned it was all a mistake? Could this be a cruel joke?
“Did Master Liam know this?”
Riordan averted his eyes. His father had taken a great risk in telling him, then.
“Why would he do that? Why would he lie to me?”
Conflicting emotions flashed over Riordan’s face as he wrestled with his answer. “Liam does what he believes is right,” he said finally. “He sees far more than the rest of us. He insists you must be trained at Ard Dhaimhin, and he fears you will leave before you’re ready if you don’t sever all ties to the kingdoms. He ordered me not to tell you.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I know what it’s like to grieve.”
Conor stared out at the lake. His piercing feeling of betrayal surprised him. If Riordan hadn’t followed his conscience, would he have lived the rest of his life at Ard Dhaimhin, plodding through a colorless existence of regret and grief, until the routine sapped him of all his emotion? Was that how the Ceannaire had become so hard-hearted?
Conor turned to his father. “Thank you for telling me. I understand what it means for you to go against Master Liam.”
�
�I’m sorry I didn’t know what you were going through. I should have noticed.” Riordan placed a light hand on his shoulder before he left him alone with his thoughts.
Conor scarcely noticed his departure. Aine was alive. He silently repeated the words over and over again. Ruarc had saved her. Or was it Comdiu’s Companions?
Laughter bubbled up in him and turned just as quickly to sobs. He covered his face with his hands. It had been a test, an opportunity, and he had failed in the worst way. He had blamed Comdiu and turned his back on his beliefs at the first sign of difficulty. If he’d only had the slightest bit of faith . . .
I’m sorry. I failed miserably. How can You still love me when I turned away so easily? I hated You for letting her die.
The answer came with startling clarity. Comdiu had known he would fail the test long before He ever claimed him for His own. How else would Conor build his faith unless he was tested? The vision had been a lesson from Comdiu, a reminder of the narrowness of human understanding.
He rose from the boulder, and a smile broke across his face. Thank You. Thank You for saving her. Thank You for not giving up on me. I’m sorry I didn’t trust You.
Conor’s trust in Liam, on the other hand, had been badly misplaced. He had come to Ard Dhaimhin believing the Fíréin were a source of infallible judgment and knowledge, but they were merely human. Liam might have his own plans for him, but how did Conor know they were correct? Why should someone else be the judge of where Comdiu’s path was leading him?
Conor went about his afternoon duties at the mill without complaint, but he couldn’t hide his restlessness from Eoghan at supper. He didn’t wait for him to ask.
“Aine’s alive.”
“But Master Liam said—”
“He lied. Or rather, he purposely misled me.”
Eoghan looked stricken. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“Master Liam has plans for me,” Conor said grimly. “Whatever they may be.”
“I’m sorry, Conor. If I had known . . .” Eoghan stood and took his bowl. “I’ll see you at devotions.”
Conor watched his friend go, confused. Did Eoghan take the criticism personally? After all, Liam was as close to a father as Eoghan had ever known. How would Conor feel if he learned Labhrás or even Riordan had intentionally caused a friend such pain?
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