by Dee, Bonnie
She shook her head. “I can’t believe it. You’re real. Then I must be your daughter, but I don’t remember anything about my life. You said I was a Terran. What is that?”
Raising her from her knees, Dagda led her over to the throne and seated her with tender care. He strode back and forth while Brigid waited for him to begin. He halted in front of her, his hands on his lean hips. “Where to start?
“Terrans are a race separate, but similar to humans. Our connection with the elements—fire, air, water, earth and spirit—is an integral part of our being. To a greater or lesser extent, we can control these forces. We are called Keepers. You are doubly blessed for you bear an affinity to more than one element. You, my child, are tied to fire and water—elements diametrically opposed—and that is your great strength. Your mother was BoAnn, one of the strongest Fire Keepers, and my element is water. Of the two, water is the stronger for it can conquer fire and sustain life.” His eyes took on a steely glint. “But in the hands of a strong, evil Keeper, water can also destroy, as it destroyed Atlantis. Water becomes an even more potent force when combined with an Air Keeper. Have patience and I will help you recall your powers for you were among the most adept among us.”
He sat down by the wooden table and absentmindedly picked up a carved wooden goblet, running his fingers along the edges as he continued his tale.
“For thousands of years we lived on this island with the humans native to this land and apart from the other Terrans, safe from humans who were spreading throughout the larger land mass in the east. Then Mil arrived, a human but with a renegade Terran advisor of great power. Our seer foretold that Mil could not be stopped at that time and he was right. The Milesians overwhelmed us through sheer numbers, but we could not and would not lie down meekly and let him take over our homes and enslave our people without a fight. There were few Protectors among us and even fewer able to use their strength in combat. Those few brave ones now trained to use those same talents to kill. It was a time of great despair.
“At first we tried to negotiate with Mil and Nimhnach, his druid counselor. I realized immediately that the druid was Terran, but one who had turned evil. His influence over Mil was enormous.”
He slammed the goblet down on the table and gazed at her with bleak eyes. “Do you remember how Mil’s eyes flamed with lust when he beheld you at my side? You came to me later and vowed you would end your existence rather than live as a captive to him.
“When we camped the night after the last great battle, you slept deeply, the magical music of Ceol Mhor, Uaithne’s harp, lulling you into a profound slumber. ‘Twas then that I took your spirit for safekeeping, merging it with the crystal spring that ran deep beneath the ground. I left your empty mortal shell for Mil to find, knowing he’d be fooled into believing you died.
“I urged our people to go deep into the caves below while I retreated to this cave with my twelve loyal Protectors. Here, Uaithne struck the same magic chords he’d played for you. I lay upon my stone-cold bed to sleep the years away until the time was right to fight again. I set my men to guard the main entrance to our lair. They slept peacefully, Uaithne’s magic causing them to lie as still as death.
“But we were betrayed.”
Dagda smiled ruefully. “’Twas pillow talk that did it. Urian the Beautiful spent his last night with one of Mil’s camp followers. Urian, the fool, thought she loved him and would worry that he no longer came to her bed. He told her of our plans and she went straight to Nimhnach seeking a reward.” He shook his head. “Her treachery was swiftly recompensed. She was slain before she barely finished telling her tale. Then Nimhnach sent three of Mil’s warriors to slay my men while they lay helplessly asleep, seek out my resting place and kill me, too.”
Brigid let go the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “How did you find out about all of this?”
“Uaithne transformed into the whisper of the wind and heard Nimhnach gloating to Mil about what had transpired. ‘Twas too late to save my men for their hands had been severed and they bled to death, but Uaithne hid the mouth of the cave and created a barrier to prevent anyone else from finding it. Until the time was right.”
“And now the time is right, isn’t it, Father?”
“Aye. The cave has been discovered. The barrier has fallen and Nimhnach is vulnerable.”
Brigid frowned. “You seem to know a lot for someone who’s been in a coma for thousands of years.”
Dagda laughed. “’Tis part of the magic that Uaithne created, for as I slept, I dreamed. The events of the years flowed through my slumber like scenes in a play. The Terrans who went underground became the sidhe, creatures of myth and my story, the stuff of legends. Those that remained above often intermarried with the humans and graced them with their Keeper skills. They became the bards and singers, the artisans and healers.
“I knew the rise and fall of the rulers of this land, yet I slept on, though the people suffered under terrible oppression from within and without. But ‘twas not until a great blight struck that I was roused for the first time from my slumber. The very source of their sustenance became diseased. Their piteous cries invaded my dreams and would not let me sleep. The children were eating the grass that grew by the roadside. The potatoes blackened. And I knew ‘twas Nimhnach’s doing.”
Brigid nodded. “The famine. That was when my ancestor left.”
“Aye. And on the first of the month of Beltaine, a widowed Terran woman staggered into the forest, blinded with tears, driven by grief. She stumbled and fell, rolling down a rocky incline, striking her head and breaking her arm. When she regained consciousness, she crawled toward the base of the cliff and her moans drew me to her side. I brought her here and tended her wounds. I played the strains of a healing slumber and she slept while she regained strength. I fed her with my own hands from my cauldron and her flesh bloomed with the flush of health. Her belly grew sweetly rounded, her breasts full. She was beautiful to behold.
“At last she awoke, opening her apple-green eyes for me and snaring me with their forest depths. She knew at once that I had saved her and recognized me as a Terran, though over the years the story of Mil and Dagda had become legends even among our own kind. She spoke and her voice was like music. ’I have naught to give you for saving my life, lord Dagda,’ she said. I told her I asked for nothing.
“But she knew I lied. She saw the avidity of my gaze when I looked at her and knew what I craved. That day she came to me and offered her lush body for my taking. And I took my fill of her and gave her my seed.
“We knew she could not remain with me and I could not leave the cave because of Uaithne’s spell. I could not help my people, so I enlisted her aid.
“I gave her my cauldron with its life-giving broth and told her to spill it out upon the earth. The brew would soak into the ground and spread throughout the land, destroying the blight. She would then leave the cauldron at the cliff entrance. I gave her gold and jewels to barter for passage on a ship sailing to the land called America to keep her and the child growing in her safe. I knew Nimhnach would recognize the renewal of the land for my work and try to take revenge on any that helped to foil his goals. I wanted your spirit to be far from his evil. She drank from the spring that flowers here and your spirit entered her body. Your essence was passed down from generation to generation, guarded by the females of your family.
“And she left to safety, taking with her leaves of parchment on which I wrote all this down in code that I taught to her and that only you can understand now that your roots are revealed.”
Brigid shook her head. “I don’t know anything about this. It must have been lost over the years.”
He sighed. “We cannot worry about it now. Since you are the only one who can translate it, it should be safe enough.”
She yawned and he smiled. “As I told you—‘twas a long tale.”
Brigid went to Dagda, laying her head on his chest. His arms closed around her convulsively as he drew her even tigh
ter to him. She pulled back, her words hesitant. “Father, do you realize how long you’ve been in this cave?”
“By my reckoning, more than three thousand years.” He moved away from her and once more paced the cave. “Nimhnach’s quest for power has become so intense, I awoke once more from my sleep.” He threw his body into the gilded throne and slumped forward. “But I am helpless. I cannot leave this cave. For Uaithne’s spell works only if I stay here within the safety of the earth.”
“Is that why I came back, to help you?”
He nodded. “When the seer foresaw that Mil would win, he also saw that Nimhnach would not … at least not completely. His greatest plans over the course of the years would be stymied and he would be confined to Eire, although the demon Ba’al who gave him such great power would also keep him alive for centuries through demonic magic. The seer told me that when the time was right you would return and I wrote that down, too. ‘Tis a sign that you are here now.”
Brigid’s head hurt. There was so much to absorb. She felt split in two. She paced restlessly around the crude chamber and strode over to a kettle bubbling over a fire. The aroma rising from it tantalized her and her mouth watered. “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”
He smiled. “Sup from it. ‘Twill give you energy.”
He picked up a bowl carved from bogwood and filled it, placing a spoon carved from hazelwood in the nourishing liquid. Brigid took the bowl and sat down by the table. Dipping her spoon into the savory contents, she took a small bite and moaned with delight. “This is fantastic.” The next spoonful hovered near her mouth, but she set it down and sighed. “Father, I’ve been with the three who tried to kill you.”
He nodded. “I know, remember?”
“Yes, I remember you told me earlier that there was a greater evil present. I’ve come to know these men. Their names are Cull, Torc and Ma’an. They were Nimhnach’s dupes. They know he betrayed them, and to claim their revenge they’ve sworn allegiance to me.” A sudden thought struck her. “But tell me, why did they sever the hands of your warriors?”
“Nimhnach needed the pure Terran blood and bone as a sacrifice to the demon Ba’al. Uaithne changed into motes of air and listened to him as he prepared his latest sacrifice to Ba’al. Concerned that Nimhnach might become aware of his presence, he left before the rite began.”
Brigid squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I have to get back to my spouse and let him know I’m all right, but then I’ll set out to find Nimhnach. Do you know where he is?”
“You’re married? I didn’t account for that.” He frowned. “This will make the fight all the more difficult for you will have to trust your secret with your husband.” He paused. “There is nothing to be done about it. At least you needn’t travel far to seek Nimhnach, for he remained here, playing the loudest croaking frog in a small pond. Over the years, he’s shielded his identity, but he cannot hide his need for power. The local people know him as Lord Nolen. He must be destroyed before he creates more evil for Ba’al.”
“Tell me what I must do.”
* * * *
29th April—Late afternoon
“Who the hell are you?” Ethan Clark’s anger was palpable, his words bristling in the air of the Warrior Cave.
“I… I’m…”
“Trespassing. How did you get past the guards? What are you doing here and why are you dressed like that?”
Ethan glared at the startled, beautiful blonde standing like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. She was dressed in the most outlandish manner. Her floor-length gown appeared to be made of natural wool and was gathered at the waist by a belt made of finely wrought gold links. A braided gold pin shaped like a crescent held together the material at her right shoulder and drew attention to her slim, bare arms. She carried a short bow over her back and he could see the feathered arrow tips poking from behind her slender neck. He squelched his immediate response to her and concentrated on the situation at hand.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, he answered his own questions. “Security is too lax. You probably batted your beautiful, baby-blues and Eamonn let you stroll right in. What did you tell him? You were dressed for some sort of ridiculous pageant and you wanted to soak up some authentic atmosphere? Who are you supposed to be? Queen Maeve?”
He made as if to rise from the campstool in front of the folding table where he had been resting, but abruptly sat back down as the female whipped an arrow from her quiver and notched her bow all in one smooth, swift motion.
“If you’ll just shut up for a moment, I’ll answer your questions. Do I have to keep this arrow aimed at your big mouth or will you let me speak?”
Speechless, he nodded and she lowered her weapon. In the back of his mind he noted her American accent.
“Now then. First, I didn’t sneak past your guards because I came from farther inside the cave.”
He snorted in disbelief, but wisely said nothing.
“The reason I sought you out is because I need your help. I’m dressed this way because my other clothes are in pretty bad shape.” She took a deep breath. “And here’s one I know you’re not going to believe. I’m not dressed up for any pageant. This is the gown my father gave me. I’m Brigid, Dagda’s daughter.”
She stared defiantly at him, daring him to doubt her.
Ethan was speechless. The woman was obviously out of her mind. For a split second he thought of the crazy way Tom had been killed. He shook his head. Couldn’t be. If she were homicidal, wouldn’t he already be dead, killed by one of her arrows? He decided to tread gently and humor her. “And just how do you know you’re Brigid? And how do you know my name?”
“My father told me my name in a dream. When we met face to face in Dagda’s Cave deep within this cliff, he advised me to seek your aid, though he didn’t tell me how you could be helpful to me. He said I’d find you in this cave. I knew your name from seeing you on the TV in town. Come on. I’ll take you to Dagda, first. Then we’ll head to Carrigclarseach. I’ve got to find my husband. He might be in danger.”
“Your husband—is he a god, too?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a goddess and I doubt Gabe is a god. I’m a Terran—I don’t know if Gabe is one.” She frowned. “Too much talk. Now, gather up your gear and take your laptop; we may need it.”
She stepped farther into the Warrior Cave, past the curved wall, and it was then that she saw the bodies. For an endless second she stared at them. The bow and arrow fell from her fingers and she dropped to her knees and bowed her head. Tears welled up in her eyes and cascaded unheeded down her cheeks. She seized the arrow and before Ethan could prevent her, she slashed her left forearm. A thin, bright crimson line beaded up from pale skin and dripped onto the dirt. Without a thought to impropriety, she unclasped the pin holding up her bodice and, dipping her fingers into the bloody gash, dabbed the gory paint between her breasts in a circle intersected by twelve lines. She re-pinned the cloth and raised her head. Her eyes gleamed with anger—they seemed to throw off sparks. Then she spoke in a language that bore only a faint resemblance to the modern Irish that Ethan knew.
“I swear to you by my father Dagda’s hammer, that I will avenge your deaths.” She rose, then noticed that Ethan remained seated. “Why aren’t you getting your stuff together? C’mon. The longer we dally the greater the danger we face.”
“I didn’t know they taught arcane languages in America. I got the name Dagda, but not much else. You appear to be familiar with some of the old myths.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“No. Can’t say that I do.”
She stepped closer to him and her gaze bored into his. “My father said you might take some convincing.” She nodded. “All right. You may not believe me, but you’re intrigued, right? You want to know more, yes? Listen, I can tell you who, how, why and when these men were killed. If you come with me. Now.”
Ethan stared at the commanding female’s face, then glanced down toward
her clenched hands. He blinked and looked again. The deep, ruby mark that should have scarred her left arm was gone as if it had never been. “Tell me how you got rid of that wound and I’ll come with you.”
She checked the healed gash and smiled. “I’ll give you that answer for free—become a Terran. Now, get your stuff and follow me.” She turned and without looking back, strode out of the chamber.
Ethan scrambled to scoop up his laptop and notes, shoving them into the backpack he carried when he was at a dig and ran after her as she headed deeper into the stygian darkness. “Hey, you’re going the wrong way! The entrance out of the cave is in the other direction.”
She looked over her shoulder impatiently. “I told you I didn’t sneak past the guard.” She grinned. “Maybe it won’t take too much to convince you after all.”
“You found another way out of the Warrior Cave?” He fumbled in his pack. “Let me get a flashlight.”
“No need, Ethan. This will give me a chance to practice. I brought my own light.”
She started off again and, as she headed into one of the tunnels he knew was a dead end, a gleaming, orange glow surrounded her, as if she were encased in flames. It lit up the blackness and cast a comforting warmth as though it was a fire in some humble cottage hearth.
Ethan stood transfixed for a moment, before rushing to follow after the enigmatic blonde.
*
Brigid was keenly aware of the man following her. Dagda had told her she’d find help from a man in the Warrior Cave and nothing more. When she’d first seen him she thought she’d gone a little crazy. It was Professor Ethan Clark and she realized that he looked like the stranger she’d made love to in the forest! Could she and this man have been lovers at one time? It wasn’t possible—was it? Yet, when Dagda spoke of Uaithne, his harper, images flickered in her head. Fuzzy and out of focus, they danced at the corner of her mind refusing to sharpen. And when she had looked into his disbelieving brown eyes, she had seen them also filled with hot desire. For her. When she had pulled off her bodice to mark her chest with the pledge sign, she had felt as though he had seen her unclothed before.
