Rioghan rose to her feet, turning swiftly to see Donaill standing before her and just beginning to smile down at her. As she stood in front of him she looked searchingly into his eyes, and to her joy saw warmth and recognition there. With the pale winter sun shining straight into his face, he drew her into his arms. “Rioghan,” he said. “Rioghan.”
She could say nothing, but simply held him as closely and as tightly as she could, pressing the side of her face hard against his broad chest and listening to the steady, strong, natural beat of his heart.
Quickly she broke away and ducked behind him. She caught hold of his arm and turned him so that now he faced the west, and then threw his heavy red cloak up over his shoulder so that the rays of the new sun shone directly onto the bare skin of his back.
As she watched, the last of the awful black stain faded away, and his skin was once again clean and perfect.
Together they turned to face the east, letting the pale rays of the winter solstice sun wash over them. The Sidhe stepped forward to stand just inside the stone circle. They, too, faced the east, and began to sing an ancient song of welcome for the newly returning sun, taking turns touching their pine sticks to the fire Rioghan had kindled and raising their torches to the dawn.
As the soft voices surrounded them, Donaill turned to Rioghan and pulled her close to him, wrapping his heavy red cloak over her and gently stroking her long black hair. “It is over, dear Rioghan,” he murmured. “And I have come home, thanks to you.”
“It was not I alone,” Rioghan answered, the side of her face close against his broad chest. “You found the strength within you to come to this place at the right time. I could have done nothing for you if you had not had the will to be here.”
“Nothing could stop me from being where you are. Not the lure of brightest treasure, not the cruelty of darkest magic. From this day I wish only to be where you are, and I can only hope that you might wish to be where I am.”
“I do wish it,” Rioghan whispered.
“Then…” He stepped back so he could see her, and raised her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Lady Rioghan,” he said, as the rising sun grew ever brighter, “will you do me the honor of being my wife, my only wife, my only love, for all the rest of your days?”
She looked up at him, into his shining blue eyes. She wanted to say, I will! Oh, I will! but found that the words were not quite there.
He saw the hesitation in her face. “You still fear betrayal,” Donaill said quietly.
She looked away, and nodded slowly. “I do. And yet…” Rioghan looked into his eyes once again. “No man could have broken a spell such as that one without the truest desire to do so. I believe you will and truly mean what you promise. And I can think of nothing more important in any marriage.”
“Well, I can say, dear Rioghan, that if ever there was a lady whose actions matched her words, it was you. And I can also say that I have learned a thing: no other woman should be allowed close to me, no matter how innocent her purpose may seem, for that is your place and yours alone.”
He smiled, and then bent down to give her the softest of kisses. “None can ever say with certainty that they will never betray another—but I believe with all my heart that if ever a man and woman could remain true to each other, you and I could remain so, Lady Rioghan of Sion.”
She smiled back at him, still looking straight into his eyes, and then nodded her head. “I will marry you, Lord Donaill of Cahir Cullen. Oh, I will.”
Together they embraced in the cool light of the winter solstice sun, as the chants of the Sidhe rose up all around them and the fire burned down until nothing was left but cool white ash, shining in the winter sun.
That evening beneath the blue-black sky, Rioghan and Donaill climbed up the mound of Sion. They found the Sidhe already gathered at the top, standing beside the stack of cut logs and deadwood that now covered the bare ashen spot at the center. Five of the Sidhe stood to one side, and each one held a blazing torch.
The five approached them, and Rioghan greeted them with tears in her eyes, suddenly feeling as though she might never see them again. Donaill turned to her and reached for her hand, and then he spoke to all the gathered Sidhe.
“This is the last night your lady will spend at Sion. At dawn tomorrow she will go with me to Cahir Cullen, there to become my cherished wife.”
The Sidhe all turned to each other upon hearing this, murmuring softly among themselves. “Yet you have this promise from both of us,” Rioghan said. “Sion remains yours, as it has always been; but Donaill and I together will serve you as its protectors and guardians and help you in any way we can. Indeed, if this place is safe for you now, it is because Donaill has seen to it that Men will not return. Sion is once again a haven and a home and a place of power for the Sidhe, as it was intended to be.
“You know that I have always served you, and this place, in whatever ways I could. And you have seen, of late, that Donaill too has done as he promised me, and more than once driven off those who would steal from Sion and do it harm.
“Both of us will see that Sion, and her people, are protected from any who might do such harm ever again. I, Rioghan, swear this to you now, by the sacred light of the winter solstice flame.”
“And I, Donaill, swear this to you also, by the sacred light of the winter solstice flame.”
The Sidhe lowered their torches and began to speak.
“We thank you for all you have done for us, Lady Rioghan.”
“And we thank you as well, Lord Donaill.”
“You will both be greatly missed here at Sion.”
Donaill tried to smile, but could only shake his head. “I wish I could have prevented the theft and destruction that happened here. I was not…I could
not—”
“Do not trouble yourself, Donaill.”
“Sion needs no gold to be of value to us.” Rioghan took Donaill’s hand and smiled up at him. “It is time.”
The five Sidhe stepped back and bowed to Rioghan and Donaill. Then, carrying their torches, they moved to surround the stack of wood. The crowd fell silent as they began to speak.
“This is the night that follows the winter solstice.”
“From this time on, the nights grow shorter.”
“From this time on, the light of the sun returns to us.”
“We light this fire that all may mark this night.”
“We light this fire with the flames of the sun itself.”
The five Sidhe stepped forward and extended their torches until the flames touched the stack of wood. In a few moments the fire crept through the wood, spreading and growing and taking hold in larger and larger spots, until at last the flames leaped up to the dark sky and the entire stack was engulfed in bright yellow fire.
All of the Sidhe stepped back from the great mountain of flame, making a circle around the edges of the hilltop and sending their own chants up to the sky along with the roaring and the crackling of the fire. Two of those who had lit the bonfire walked to Rioghan and Donaill and handed each of them a burning torch.
“Take this, the light of the sun and of Sion, and keep it with you always.”
“We will see that it burns forever in the hearth of Sion, and we will be the keepers of the light.”
“We will care for this place, now and always, and welcome you here whenever you return.”
Rioghan embraced them both, and then together she and Donaill started on the path down the side of the mound. The sounds of the fire and the chant floated after them.
The cave of Sion sat dark and quiet. Only the faintest glow remained deep in the bottom of the stone-lined hearth. She and Donaill placed their torches down in the hearth, where the pine sticks could burn through and provide comforting heat and light on this long winter night. It was as if a little of the returning sun had been brought inside their very home.
Rioghan walked through the place where she had lived alone for so long, still saddened by the sight of its bar
e stripped walls. Yet in the places where all the beautiful gold and bronze and crystal had once rested, Rioghan found small stone lamps and white beeswax candles, new and clean and ready for lighting.
Very soon all of the candles were lit and casting their soft and wavering light throughout the cave and over the fur-covered sleeping ledge. The pine torches in the hearth snapped and burned pleasantly. Rioghan stood beside the ledge and turned to Donaill, waiting for him there in the shimmering light.
He came to her, took her face in both his hands, and leaned down to kiss her gently. Rioghan reached up to him, taking him in her arms and losing herself in the feel of his broad back and strong arms and soft, gentle mouth.
Yet his kisses did not remain soft for long. They became more insistent with each passing moment, even as Rioghan felt the rising passion within herself strengthening to meet his own. It seemed that as he grew stronger, she grew more yielding, ever softer and more pliant, raising her face to his until her head fell and her long black hair covered his hands. She leaned back against his strong embrace so that her entire body was open to his, and pressed up warm and soft against the iron hardness of his chest and hips and thighs.
It seemed that the light of the candles faded away. There was only cool darkness and rapid breath, and strength she had never before imagined holding her upright on swaying legs. Strong fingers pulled the golden brooch from her cloak and let the black wool fall heavily to the rushes on the floor of the cave. Next her leather belt was loosened and pulled away, and then her boots untied and slipped off.
With sudden gentleness and care, the half-rings holding her black wool gown and linen undergown were eased away, and the gowns allowed to fall down off her shoulders and slide down to the floor on top of the cloak.
Quickly, for the midwinter air was cold, those same strong arms lifted her up through the dim light as though she had no weight at all, placed her on the softness of the cushions covering the sleeping ledge, and covered her with thick furs.
A small sound in the rushes told her that Donaill had unpinned his heavy red cloak and let it drop. Without needing to see him, she knew that he was taking off his belt and boots and breeches and tunics. Then his tall heavy body was beside her on the furs, close and hot, and as hard and strong as the very stone of the cave itself.
Yet despite all his strength, despite his urgency and rapid breath, he was gentleness itself as he raised himself over her. “Rioghan,” he whispered, a dark shadow in the soft light of the candles. “Beautiful dark-haired lady, Rioghan who is to be my wife…let me show you the love I have for you, and will always have, now and always; let me show you how we can truly become as one and never be separated again.”
In answer she reached up and slid her arms up over his back, stroking the smooth, hot skin of his shoulders and pulling him close, so close, yet still not close enough. She was beginning to feel the insistent hunger of her own body, which told her he could never be close enough.
Just as she was the one growing more eager, more anxious, more insistent, Donaill eased back from her slightly, and she could feel him smiling down at her in the darkness. Slowly, slowly, he lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers, until she arched her back to reach for them, until she was the one who pressed her mouth to his and returned his long and loving kiss.
Even as he kissed her, Donaill began to caress the bare skin of her body, tracing over every rise and curve and every tender place, moving so gently, so carefully, so deliberately, that even through her own haze of heat and emotions and desire Rioghan knew he did not forget that never had she been touched in such a way by any man.
At last Rioghan felt as open and yielding as the soft earth when it is warmed by the summer sun; and when she could wait no longer, she pulled Donaill to her, so that his comforting weight pressed down upon her, over her and around her and finally deep within her, and Rioghan knew, as she held him close and wrapped her arms and legs around him, that she would never feel incomplete again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The following morning, a gray mist lay still and silent on the grounds outside Sion. It seemed to invade even the cave itself, hanging on the damp ground and clinging to the bare walls. “It is so sad to see it this way,” Rioghan said, as she stood near the entrance and looked back inside her home. “So empty, so alone.”
Donaill smiled at her as he buckled on his sword belt. “It will not be this way for long,” he said, walking toward her. “By tonight, some of the Sidhe will be living here as you did. This fire will never go out.” He nodded at the hearth, where neatly banked coals glowed beneath their covering of ash.
“I know that. They will care for it well. Yet…the walls—I wish…” She fell silent, and smiled up at him. “Let us go home.”
He stood before her, sliding his hand beneath the long dark hair behind her neck and gently kissing her forehead. “I am so sorry, dear Rioghan, that all of the beautiful things that should be here have been lost. I promise you—I will not rest until I find this treasure and return it to its rightful place. The fault was entirely mine.”
“Oh, Donaill, it was not. They would have succeeded one way or another. They were determined to take the beautiful ancient things of the Sidhe for their own selfish reasons, the way a child might take another’s plaything—never realizing the value of what they have stolen.”
“Yet I should have done whatever was needed to prevent such a loss. Most of all I should never have let myself be tricked and enslaved by one not fit to clean the mud from my boots.”
His face grew dark at the memory of it, and Rioghan reached up to touch his cheek. “Do not think of it again,” she said. “It is over now…and you and I know that it will not ever happen again.” She smiled. “The Sidhe are the masters of creating beauty where there is none. And we will help them, you and I.”
She took her hand away and started to walk from the cave. “Please, Donaill. Take me home.”
He smiled back at her, and nodded. Together they walked across the misty clearing with Scath and Cogar alongside, and started on the road toward Cahir Cullen—toward home.
Three days later, two riders left the fortress in the early morning light and walked their horses—one black, one gray—along the road toward Sion. With them was a shaggy pack pony carrying as many large woven sacks as could be tied to its saddle. Two huge dogs trotted alongside the horses and roved in and out of the forest’s edge. The gray and black dogs were easily seen against the grass and the holly and the pine trees, for on this particular morning all was lined with pure white frost.
“Rioghan, I fear there will be no food, no wine, no linen, and no woolen cloth left at Cahir Cullen,” Donaill said with a laugh, as his black stallion snorted and broke into a high, prancing trot in the cold morning air. “You have brought it all for the Sidhe!”
“Oh, there is still a little left,” said Rioghan, smiling up at him from the back of her small gray mare. She wore the same clothes she had worn on the night of the feast—the gray linen gown with the green woolen dress over it, a belt of gold links, and the mantle of silver-gray and deep green with just a few lines of bright red. “And I will be glad to prepare all the bread that I can bake and all the meat that I can dry, and weave all the cloth I can weave, if it will help the Sidhe and reassure them that they will always have our protection.”
Donaill smiled sympathetically, and eased Cath back to a walk so that the pack pony could keep up. “I know you have always felt close to them. They are your family, in many ways.”
“They are. But there is another reason. They were the ones who helped me to break the curse that rested on you. Without their help you might have been lost to me forever, no matter how much love I had for you.”
Donaill could only gaze at her, and try to coax the slow pack pony on a little faster.
The rest of the journey was a peaceful one. The horses walked calmly along the good road, and gradually the mist began to burn away as the brightening sun broke through th
e cover of cloud.
Though it had been only three days, Rioghan’s heart leaped as she once again approached Sion. She loved her new life with Donaill, her husband, and their fine house at Cahir Cullen; but this would remain a special place for her, she knew, for all the rest of her days.
There seemed to be a special brightness, a certain gleaming light, coming from the clearing in front of the cave…but she supposed it was just her eagerness to see her old home again, and a reflection of the love she would always have for it.
Then they rode into the clearing. Donaill and Rioghan stopped their horses and stood very still.
The clearing did indeed shimmer with light, for on every frost-lined branch of pine hung beautiful things of gold and bronze, copper and crystal, moving gently and flashing bright in the early-morning sunshine. There were plates and discs large and small, cups and armbands and torques and rings, and figures of all sorts of animals, turning in the slight wind almost as if they were alive.
The horses snorted a bit and shied away when asked to move forward, for dapples of light danced across the frosty grass, and the very trees glittered in their eyes. “How is this possible?” Rioghan said under her breath, glancing quickly from branch to sparkling branch. “All of their treasure has returned…and like this!”
“Let’s find out,” Donaill said, and persuaded Cath to step into the clearing. The pack pony and Rioghan’s gray mare followed him closely.
As the horses walked toward the entrance to the cave, three of the Sidhe came out past the cowhide hangings. All, it seemed, of the others appeared at the edge of the forest. And the happy gray and black dogs came bounding up to greet their former mistress and romp with Scath and Cogar.
Rioghan slid down from her mare and gave the reins up to Donaill. She walked toward the cave, toward Luath, and could not help but smile. “So beautiful!” she said, almost laughing. “I am so happy that it has been returned to you! How has this happened?”
Keeper Of The Light Page 22
