Bowen looked ahead. The three factions must have been disrupted by the bulb’s noise, and fell still. Conall yelled madly at the masses, enraged at their disobedience and betrayal. “You fools! All of you! We shouldn’t be fighting against each other. Have you forgotten we have a common goal?” he shouted.
“You mean your goal!” someone shouted back.
Conall sneered. “No! Ours!” he shouted slowly for emphasis, then twirled himself around with outstretched arms. “For all of these centuries, who was the guard who mocked us outside the caves?”
A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd of warrior men and women.
“Here we are because of this man now, and he wants to put us back in those caves, locking us away forever so he can mock us again. That man,” and Conall swung his arm, pointing at the distant Bowen. “And his puny woman.”
The armies stirred, angered by the notion.
“Our common goal was to rule over ourselves in the old world, free from the priesthood’s oppression. These two are the remaining oppressors!”
Shouts of agreement flew from all sides.
“We shouldn’t be killing each other!” He gestured to the dead at his feet. “We should be killing them! Let us destroy them! Then let us flood over this land and take it back from the descendants of our oppressors! Let us once again, UNITE!” Conall screeched.
Bowen watched closely. “They’re coming now.” The three armies melded into one giant mass. Catherine’s heart sank and her eyes grew wide in panic.
Bowen had been holding onto the skyphos, and now placed it on the ground. He reached over and gave Catherine’s shoulder a small squeeze. “The curse,” he said quickly, nodding his head.
Catherine wanted to plead with him, but she knew she had to do this. Without the star bulb’s help, she didn’t trust herself to succeed. How was she supposed to enact the curse? Catherine had no idea how to use her power. She could only feel her power. She wished she could freeze everybody in place, or run away. But she knew she couldn’t escape this. Then suddenly she remembered seeing the great oak tree spring from the ground. She had called for it to grow, and it did, but because she didn’t believe it the dream remained a dream. That’s it!
Catherine shut her eyes again, and tried to picture burying the armies in the caves. She imagined stone surrounding them, and not a drop of light. The images began to falter and fade, so she concentrated harder. The feet of the army could be heard now, and she was weakening from exhaustion. Once again she longed for the sun. She started whispering to help herself keep the images in her mind.
Bowen stood next to her, helpless. He kept looking at the skyphos, expecting it to give off a visible energy projected from Catherine. He saw the skyphos begin to have an aura of pale light, and he held his breath. It grew brighter, and he waited, expecting any moment to wake up far from here, days from now, cursed again.
Catherine’s whispers grew louder. “The caves, caves. Stone, stone, STONE!”
Just then the skyphos rattled and broke in two. She had failed. Shocked, Bowen looked over at Catherine. Her eyes were still shut, but her face was strangely calm now and she seemed otherworldly, as if she was apart from reality. Her body now gave off the pale light.
“Catherine?” he whispered.
Though her eyes were shut, she saw Conall’s army approaching in her mind’s eye, they were close enough to see their faces through the light.
Catherine heard the words coming from her lips, one after the other. Something else clicked within her, and a surge of great power arrived and fell still. It felt like she was frozen with it. She couldn’t move. Suddenly the power grew and burst. Her eyes snapped open. The power was unbelievably great. She realized now that she had been wrong. She didn’t have to learn to control her own power, she had to learn how to trust it.
Thunder cracked the sky, and strong winds came. Catherine raised her arms as if to direct the wind. She blew the clouds away and the sun emerged triumphant. When the sun rays hit the land, she felt the power within her reach its peak.
All of a sudden, something like the power of God came down from heaven and engulfed her entire body into a living flame. Terror struck everyone who saw it. So powerful was it that the ground rumbled and shook when it hit her body. Some of the men too close went instantly blind, or caught on fire and burned alive.
Then there was another tremble deep in the ground. The whole army stopped. A sudden wave of darkness appeared from thin air and swept across the masses of people. There was a buzzing noise, like a mosquito that was too tiny and quick to see or catch. It grew louder and louder. Slapping their ears to make it stop, eyes squinted in pain. Bowen hunched down.
Suddenly piercing screams rang out and the buzzing stopped. There was a flash. Before Bowen’s eyes, the armies turned to stone!
Bowen stood undamaged and stared at the scene in amazement some feet away behind Catherine’s body of fire.
Conall had let the army go ahead of him. He beheld his legacy frozen in stone. He screamed wildly, startling the stragglers remaining next to him. In an instant, the stone druids crumbled and disintegrated into dust, blown away by the last of the wind. Conall was stricken with horror.
Catherine released herself from fire and light, and returned her body to its natural state. Bowen pulled her in an embrace, then jumped away with a yelp. “You feel like a kiln!” he said, gazing at her singed finger tips. The drizzle falling on her now turned to steam, creating a mist around her form.
“I don’t feel hot to the touch,” she said, curiously examining her frayed hair. She noticed the added burns to her fingers, and sighed.
“You almost burned me . . .” he mumbled. He waited until her body cooled down, and tested touching before he went all in on holding her. “Are you all right?” he said with a desperate voice muffled by her hair, his face buried tightly in her warm neck.
Catherine had seen what took place within the flame, but she stood there in Bowen’s arms astonished at what she had done. “Yes, Bowen, I think so,” she replied.
He pulled away. “You did it!” he exclaimed happily.
“I didn’t cast the curse, Bowen,” she reminded him, stepping back. She looked over at Conall, disappointed that he hadn’t been trapped in stone. Though when she turned back she was visibly relieved to see Bowen moving and alive, breathing heavily.
“No, you did something far better . . .”
Before Bowen could finish, a figure suddenly swept across the field and threw itself at Bowen. She looked over with shock to see a wild bear. Conall! The ground trembled and shook beneath them as Bowen was thrown around. Luckily, Conall’s blind rage caused him to lose his bear form rapidly after reaching them. The man, Conall was now struggling to pin Bowen.
“You took everything from me!” he screamed. Catherine realized suddenly that she could understand his words.
Conall was strong and powerful, but so was Bowen. Both men fought relentlessly. Bowen fought for his life. Catherine tried to help, throwing herself in the mix and she managed to stop Conall’s grip from Bowen’s throat by a swift knee to his side. But he elbowed her back.
When she managed to breathe again and sit up, one of Conall’s remaining followers, a woman, raced toward her. Her hair was wild, teeth bared as she glared with piercing eyes, wielding a spear. The woman lunged. Catherine rolled just in time to avoid being run through. However, she got the full brunt of the woman’s much larger body. Something clattered, then Catherine saw a dagger fall to the grass. She didn’t have time to reach for it because the woman lunged at her again. Catherine wrestled with her to release her grip on the spear. The woman pushed Catherine on her back, pinning her down, holding the spear high in the air. Stunned, and seeing the end of the spear about to plummet, Catherine’s adrenaline surged. She pulled her hand from under her, and with the dagger firmly in her grip, she stabbed. But the woman moved too quickly, and grabbed her wrist with mighty strength. The spear dropped.
Catherine struggled to k
eep her hold on the weapon. Knowing time was not in her favor, she took a risk and pushed with all her might to set the woman off balance. Then she reached for the spear, jabbing the sharp end in the woman’s exposed side. The woman screamed, and fell awkwardly to the ground where she squirmed, dying in a pool of blood.
Catherine snatched the dagger and rose to her feet. With the weight on it, her ankle gave a sharp pain and she almost fell. She caught herself but was forced to kneel. Both her hands were on the ground as she recovered from the pain. It was useless to her now. But Catherine couldn’t lose Bowen. Not him.
“Get out of here!” Bowen’s voice boomed loudly through the scuffle.
Catherine looked at Conall with intensity, wanting to burn him or turn him to stone. He deserved a death much worse than all the people he had murdered, worse than Kathleen’s, and for the suffering thereafter. Catherine wouldn’t let him take Bowen, she wouldn’t allow that to happen. She screamed out loud, her eyes shut tight as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Suddenly her eyes shot open. From her outstretched fingers the mist rose again. Filled with power, trusting it again, her eyes unclouded.
The last of Conall’s men came to stop her. She was much stronger now, her blows equal to his. Her body had skill she never knew it had developed. Catherine dodged the man’s futile attempt to grab her, and attacked with a jump. Gripping his head she snapped his neck in one motion. His body went limp and fell.
Catherine turned to see Bowen standing with the upper hand, and Conall now on the ground in agony. Conall rose slowly, and looked ready to pounce. In another fit of rage, he lurched forward, screaming madly.
Bowen managed to push Conall off him. Catherine’s heart leapt up into her throat at the thought that Bowen could finish him off now. But he had been hurt somehow. Catherine couldn’t tell where. Conall had backed away from him, so Bowen looked down at blood running down one of his arms. Catherine’s eyes grew large.
Bowen was still looking down when Catherine saw the madness peak in Conall’s eyes, and he charged. She knew if Conall got to him he would kill him. The pain inside her was unbearable. Bowen had to live.
Livid with anger and desperation she intercepted Conall, ignoring the immense pain of running on her pained ankle. Conall saw her at the last minute, and they collided as Bowen fell backward. Conall’s arm was bent crooked and his other palm pushed against her stomach hard. They separated breathlessly, noses inches apart. Conall’s evil eyes stared into Catherine’s. She suddenly saw why Bowen was saddened. She could see now that he was small and lost. Dagger still in hand she thrust it deep into Conall’s chest, shoving it to the hilt. She felt the blood soak her hand, and heard the tear of fragile human flesh. Conall’s eyes cleared in a flicker as the life faded out of them.
“Catherine!” Bowen shouted, and rushed over.
Conall’s legs buckled and he slipped down. She pushed him away from her with disgust. Wringing her hands, she stood over him, both feet standing firmly.
“It’s done now, Kathleen,” she said over Conall.
Catherine walked a few steps away before her legs collapsed from under her. Her hair hung around her head wildly, still slightly damp from the earlier drizzle. She looked at her burned and bloodstained hands in a daze.
Bowen crouched in the wet grass and leaned over Conall’s lifeless body. Catherine was relieved, and horrified. She had killed him at last, and claimed her revenge. It felt terrible. But Bowen was safe.
Managing to come out of her trance she saw that Bowen was crying softly. The green eyes, normally vibrant, clear and happy, were now clouded over. She hated to see him unhappy. She wanted to hold him until he could hurt no more. But she knew that Bowen had seen enough hurt in the world that she could never erase that from him, no matter how much she wanted to. He had seen such unimaginable horrors, and all manner of evil. Breathing in the damp air, she realized he had also seen much love in that time as well. She exhaled.
Bowen wiped his cheeks. “Be with her now, Conall,” he whispered, then laid a hand over the empty eyes to close them carefully.
Eyes closed, Catherine continued to breathe deeply. Bowen walked over and crouched down beside her.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
Catherine opened her eyes to see Bowen drenched in sweat, his curls pasted to his head and lovely face. She was about to answer no, when she found she could move her ankle without pain. She quickly looked down to see that her injuries were all healed, her broken ankle, and the burns on her hands. She checked her hair. The damage had mysteriously vanished, and her hair returned, lush and red as ever.
She looked up at Bowen in astonishment. “I can!” she said, quickly standing.
Bowen smiled, but winced when she grabbed onto him. “Oh!” she pulled back slightly, “He hurt you badly?”
“Nothing serious,” he replied, holding his ribs.
“Are your ribs broken?” Catherine could see his face was bruised, and found the cut on his arm.
“No, bruised, maybe cracked.”
Catherine wondered why her wounds had disappeared. Bowen could see what she was thinking.
“It’s your power,” he explained.
“But how?”
“You willed yourself to heal, so you could save me. Thank you for that, by the way,” he chuckled.
Catherine gave a little smile in answer, but her curiosity took over again. “You mean I was healing in the act of fighting?”
He nodded.
Catherine was in awe of her power. The power to destroy, and to heal. “Can I heal you?” she asked hopefully.
“I doubt it. You’re incredibly powerful, but not all-powerful,” he said between checking his wounds over and coughing.
The clouds returned then and brought with them a light rain, which sprinkled on their happy faces and the green grass. The sun shone through, so Catherine enjoyed the refreshing mix. As she wiped her wet hair from her face, pushing it back, she suddenly remembered something. Danny!
“Bowen, it’s not over! Danny!” she said, as her breath hitched.
“Let’s go!” Bowen declared, wasting no time.
*
Danny’s eyes crept open. He could see the tree branches above, and the bright sun’s rays shining through the clouds. It hurt his eyes, so he shut them again. His neck was craned back, with the top of his head leaning against the tree. His throat was dry, and he needed food, but his stomach ached too much to want it. At times he thought he heard Catherine’s voice, or saw Kathleen on her phone sitting next to him. He knew he had a fever.
Waiting for death to come, he prayed his sister would survive him. He could let himself die, if he knew she was going to live. In and out of consciousness, he remembered Bowen was with her, and that he trusted him now to take care of her.
Danny’s lips felt wet, and cold water filled his mouth. He choked heavily. His body was pushed forward to help him swallow the water remaining.
“Síne . . .” he said looking up. She was hunched down with a bowl of water in her hand.
Síne said nothing. She seemed displeased having to help him, and almost happy that he choked. She pushed Danny harshly backward against the tree, and stood up after casting the bowl aside.
Danny was able to hold his eyes open and watch Síne’s erratic pacing. The place was empty of all other druids. They were alone. The armies of druids must have gone for battle at last. He quickly realized she must be angry being left behind to watch him. He worried about Catherine again. For all he knew, the battle could have been days ago, and Catherine gone.
Suddenly, Síne tripped forward on her hands and knees painfully. She shot an accusatory look at Danny, and he involuntarily flinched. She seemed to blame him for her fall, and finally tired of guarding him, she snapped back up and took one of the ropes tied to him.
Danny cringed. This is the end, he thought.
Síne pulled the rope tightly around his throat, and something in him gave him the strength to try and struggle against
the strangling. But it was not enough. It was almost over, and he almost wanted to give in and let it be.
Just then the bushes rustled, and something shot through the air past him. The pull of the rope stopped, and Síne flopped backward onto the ground. Danny turned, violently coughing and rubbing his neck, to see an arrow sticking out of her. Upset, his eyes quickly grew in fear. He recognized that arrow.
“I couldn’t have her killing you before I could, after all,” the hunter boomed.
Danny spotted him as he emerged from hiding in the thicket, and glowered at him watchfully.
The hunter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What? Can’t you speak anymore?”
“Why?” he managed hoarsely. Danny hadn’t used his voice in over a week, and with his parched throat it was barely audible.
“Why am I going to kill you?” the hunter guessed. Danny nodded weakly. “Because you destroyed my relic,” he said flatly.
Danny was trapped, and at the mercy of another lunatic. He didn’t want to die, let alone at the hand of his uncle’s murderer. But he could barely move. He was defenseless, and no one would know what happened to him. He started to think about what his life could have been, what he wanted from it. How foolishly he had lived before Kathleen died. He’d wasted so much time.
The hunter leaned over, resting on his knees. “Is your life flashing before your eyes?” he asked in an amused voice.
Danny just glared in return. The hunter chuckled. “Well, it’ll be over soon.”
Danny watched him put another arrow in his crossbow’s slot. He squeezed his eyes shut in preparation. The hunter took aim.
But before the hunter could pull the trigger, Bowen rushed at him and pulled his arms upward. Noticing he wasn’t shot yet, Danny opened his eyes and gasped.
Oak & Mistletoe Page 21
