“Aye, I see that, and sure I would feel the same, but men and women are somewhat different I fear, Mother. Always the battle is foremost; the need to protect comes first. You are not so different in that regard for you needed to protect me at all costs.”
She nodded. “And have you any notion when he might be done with this insurmountable quest? When he might return to me?”
Alainn shook her head.
“If he might return to me?” Mara’s voice trailed off in contemplation.
Alainn shrugged. “I believe if he is able, he will, but in truth, I cannot say when or even if it will happen. It is never certain with battling evil.”
“You speak with experience, Alainn. I see it in your eyes; you have been made to face much for one so young.”
“Aye, much of the time I would gladly cast away these magical abilities, but I suppose we can never choose our paths entirely.”
“I sense you are filled with a maudlin inclination today, Alainn, beyond the grief of loss.”
“Aye, well, I hadn’t made up my mind entirely to inform you of this, for I wasn’t certain how to tell you, but I suppose the simple truth, if it could possibly be considered simple, is the best.”
“That sounds rather ominous and disquieting, Alainn. Well, go ahead then, don’t keep me wondering.”
“I know I will soon be made to follow in my father’s footsteps and leave behind my life, my family, and friends… and Killian,” she whispered as tears once more fell from her eyes.
“Oh, daughter, my dearest Alainn. Would that I could protect you from that certain pain as well.”
The tears fell down her mother’s face as well and she held tight to her daughter although it was not common for her to display such affection. When she finally composed herself, she spoke again.
“You’ll be with your father then, no? And together sure the two of you with your combined magical abilities will be capable of battling whatever evil forces you might meet, and then you’ll be back with your husband, and Teige will find his way back to me. I am certain of it!”
But when they stared into each other’s eyes, they saw the lingering uncertainty in the other’s eyes, and they wept together and clung to one another. When Alainn left her mother, she felt a strange mingling of sadness and optimism.
*
Alainn also spent a brief time with Margaret and Molly and was relieved to experience snippets of joy amid her profound sorrow.
She was pleased to see Margaret and her baby boy, Seamus, were both faring well, and as she stared at Molly who had already blossomed most considerably in carrying her child, Alainn smiled.
“What has you looking so well-pleased?” Margaret questioned.
“You will soon be the grandmother to two babes here, Margaret.”
“Aye, you told me as much last time you were here, Alainn. Do you not recall?”
“I most certainly do, I told you there would be a boy and a girl born, that Molly would bear a boy and one day soon Lily would carry a girl, but I was wrong.”
“I carry a girl child?” Molly whispered as she placed her hand to her growing belly, “I do hope Pierce isn’t too disappointed for we’ve already been referrin’ to our unborn child as Mac for Pierce’s Da.”
“You do carry a boy, but a girl as well.”
Molly’s cheeks turned crimson and her face filled with confusion.
“Twins, Molly, you carry twins, a boy and a girl!” Margaret had gone to her daughter and placed her hands on her cheeks in affection. They’d warmly embraced each other and then actually danced together around the little cottage in delight.
Even in her sadness in what life had thrown at them, first in losing Cian, and more recently with losing Mary and Conner, and Riley, Alainn reasoned always life would bring with it joy and sorrow combined. To allow herself to love and to love well, she opened her heart to loss, but to live without love would truly be no life at all. Alainn was well aware with any great love there would be great loss. It was both the cost and the reward of loving.
As she’d smiled at the two women, beaming with new wonderment and happiness, she fondly embraced them, but did not tell them she would not see them for some time… or perhaps never again. Instead, she called back over her shoulder as she left the cottage.
“By the way, Lily already carries Cookson’s children as well.”
Margaret had rushed after her as she started down the cobblestone path. With the return of her health, her body was once more plump and she was breathless and ruffled when she reached Alainn.
“What do you mean she already carries? They are not yet wed.”
“They told us they wanted to wait till Killian and I returned to Castle O’Donnel so they might be wed.”
“Aye, well, ’tis sure they couldn’t wait for the rollicking?” Margaret huffed and her cheeks turned rosy.
“Settle you down, Margaret, becoming so aghast is surely not good for your heart. Take a long, deep breath. Sure you’ll remember neither you nor I waited for our wedding to see what pleasures were to be had when a woman lifts her skirts and a man lowers his trews,” Alainn said in recalling the private conversation she’d once had with Margaret.
“Shhhhh!” she whispered as Molly came nearer to them. “Oh, you’ve a fresh mouth on you, you do!” She pinched Alainn’s cheek in fondness, but feigned displeasure.
“What do you mean Lily carries Cookson’s children?” Molly said as she approached holding her hands beneath her round belly.
Alainn smiled brightly once again. “Well, in my visions I’ve been seeing a boy and a girl, but I was often confused for it appeared sometimes they had curly red hair and sometimes straight brown hair. Now I know the reason, there are two boys and two girls. Lily is even now with child, and she carries twins as well. You both carry a boy and a girl.”
“Alainn O’Brien, you said I would be the grandmother to two grandchildren!”
“I said you would be the grandmother to two grandchildren here.” She smirked. “And two at Castle O’Donnel, and come to it, your other sons’ wives will both conceive within the next moon and carry a child as well. You’d best tell Cook to find an able carpenter to extend your home for when the Kilkenny clan is together your cottage will be bursting at the beams.”
She’d kissed the two flustered women farewell, well-pleased to have a happy moment amongst all the sadness.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It wasn’t until after they had made the solemn journey across the sea to their homeland, after Mary and Conner had been laid in their graveyard and they’d delivered wee Conner to Castle O’Brien, and Riley to the churchyard there… even well after Alainn and Killian had returned to their own castle, that they had actually spoken on the events of that unforgettably grievous night.
As only the three of them sat in the immense great hall with Danhoul after they’d companionably shared a meal and a jug of ale, and started on a second, he finally told them what had happened with the coven of witches. For up till then, it seemed none of them were prepared to discuss any further difficulty.
“You must tell us, Danhoul. How did you manage to fight off an entire coven of witches?” Killian was undeniably curious.
“Aye, I’d like to know as well for when last I saw them they were set on mayhem.” Alainn remembered.
“Aye, the god-awful lot of them was filled with a level of rage and evil sure I’ve never seen before and they were headed for us with murder in their eyes if ever I’ve seen it,” he began.
Alainn and Killian held hands and sat close together as they waited for Danhoul to continue although it was clear speaking of the coven disturbed him.
“Lugh sent his spear through one and even with his power as a mighty god and with your magical charm on his weapon sure it barely took her to her knees. I know witches can be powerful, you possess a great deal of power, Alainn, and we’ve seen other witches with unimaginable powers.” He briefly glanced at Killian in saying that and in remembering Ebrill,
but then soon looked away.
“So what did you do then, Danhoul? How did you fight them?” Alainn urged him to speak on.
“Well, I managed to lop off a witch’s head, which thankfully ended her life. Lugh followed suit and got two more with his sword and then tossed his spear through the neck of one which also decapitated her.” He grimaced. “It was all a bit gory and brutal.”
“It sounds as though you had a difficult night.”
“No more so than yours.” He empathetically looked at Alainn and Killian and the grief still obvious on their faces.
They nodded and their eyes met and Alainn’s filled with tears as they had so frequently in thinking of the loss of their dear friends. Even now huge tears slid down her cheeks and Killian lifted her to sit upon his lap and they wrapped their arms around each other in comfort.
“Sorry I am that I brought up such raw memories of your recent loss,” Danhoul quietly stated.
Killian shook his head. “We are thankful for your compassion and your understanding.” He smiled with sincerity at Danhoul. “I would never discourage speaking of him or of Mary, and I know Conner was your friend as well.”
“Aye, he was.” Danhoul nodded.
“But you’ve still not told us how you defeated the coven for by my estimation there were still eight more witches to deal with.” Killian broke the solemn moment.
“Aye, well, by this time they were a frenzied lot. They had fire spurting from their fingertips and streams of unnatural light coming from their eyes. I ran one through with my sword, but she still lived and two more came to her rescue. They sent a searing fire at me and I got this for the trouble.” He lifted the sleeve of his tunic and a long raised burn mark remained on his arm.
Alainn narrowed her eyes at the sight of the sizeable burn and made a clucking sound with her tongue that indicated it would obviously be most painful.
“Aye, it felt like I had been burned by hellfire and perhaps that was the truth of it for that coven surely had to come from the depths of hell. And of course it was my sword hand that was injured, and I am admittedly unskilled with my other arm. Lugh saw what was happening and he beheaded the two that were nearest to me.”
“He must have been nearly intolerable in his boasting at taking out more witches than you?” Killian suggested knowing Danhoul and Lugh often were at odds.
“Oh, I’ve not heard the end of it since that day to be sure.”
“There were six more,” Killian said in hope Danhoul would soon finish his account of that night.
“And one more had a sword through her, but remained alive,” Alainn recalled.
“Aye and they started chanting in an unknown language, surely a dark spell for their eyes became black as they spoke and a dark cloud surrounded us. I was sure they were summoning a demon. All the while the witches kept staring at the tower. I’m sure they meant to get to you, Alainn, one way or another.”
“They did seem most intent on that when I encountered them,” she agreed.
“The dark cloud grew thicker, and drew closer and closer to Lugh and myself, and his sword and his spear simply dropped to the ground. When I tried to pull my sword from the witch the hilt was burning hot and even Lugh with his immortality and indifference to pain couldn’t pick his weapons from their place on the ground for the handles glowed unnaturally and were red with heat.
Then the damnable witches began to fly, even the one who still had my sword through her.” He shuddered in the gruesome memory. “They spun around and around us so fast I was certain I would grow dizzy with watching. Lugh finally plucked one from the air and with his great strength he snapped her neck and… tore her head from her body.”
Danhoul seemed nearly regretful to relate all the grisly details.
“You needn’t shelter me, Danhoul, for in dealing with Ciara and her dark sister, and …with Riley and his despicable unforgivable deeds, there was much horror for all of us that night.”
Killian squeezed her tighter and she clung to him as well. It was clear they needed the reassurance they were here together and had made it through one of the most difficult and sorrowful nights of their life. Alainn tenderly placed her fingertips to the jagged scar along Killian’s hairline where Ciara had struck him with the rock. The mark remained even after a fortnight and a good deal of her magical healing.
“How fares your wound, Alainn?” Danhoul questioned when he saw her looking at Killian’s scar.
“Nearly healed, ’twas not as entirely damaging or troublesome as it appeared.”
“You had a damnable dagger driven deep into your gut, Alainn. I’ve seen many a man meet his end in such a manner. Being gut-wounded is an unenviable injury. You could have died. Sure, you would have died, if Danhoul hadn’t magically healed you. Thankfully it wasn’t a cursed blade. That’s two daggers, a sword, and a poisoned dart you have suffered,” Killian stated.
“You’re maybe forgetting Pierce’s blade, the one I met with when I was only three and ten?” She smiled at him.
“Shite, you’re correct, I didn’t include that one in the lot. I think perhaps the two of you might create a protective shield that disallows sharp objects from drawing near to you.” Killian chuckled as he said it, but the anxiousness within his deep green eyes remained.
“Did you want to hear the remainder of my adventurous tale or would you rather simply wallow on the wounds you’ve both suffered, for I’d be glad to show you my extremely large burn on my forearm again or maybe the scarred mark on my thigh from the fireball.”
“Sure, we’ll not be needin’ to see your thigh.” Killian grinned. “But, aye, tell us the rest of your tale before we sit here growing old.”
“Wait, how many witches are alive now?” Alainn attempted to calculate in her mind.
“Five,” Killian stated.
“By now, Lugh’s sword and spear are molten steel; so hot, they have become useless. So we have no weapons and five witches.”
“And what happened with the sword that was in the witch, did it turn molten and dissolve as well?” Alainn questioned.
“Well now, I’m getting’ to that part if you’d quit interruptin’ me.” He taunted in a good-natured manner.
Alainn smiled and waited for him to continue.
“The sword remained unchanged and gruesomely protruding through the witch as she flew through the air. Lugh grabbed her as well and for whatever reason that sword hilt was no longer warm. So he pulled the sword from the witch, tossed the sword to me, broke the witch’s neck and, yes, once more removed the head. I threw the sword at another witch who flew near me and it struck her down wounding her so she wasn’t able to move so well. I pulled the sword out and hacked off her head.”
He became so enthralled in recounting his tale he made the dramatic motions necessary for beheading a witch.
“Three now!” Alainn said as she looked at the two men.
“Well, that’s when things really got perilous.”
“Because they hadn’t been risky at all up till then?” Killian sarcastically commented.
“They began to multiply, or to be cloned or something!”
“Cloned?” Killian and Alainn asked in unison.
“It’s a word from the future, where an exact replica of a person or an animal is created from the DNA of another.”
“DNA?” they both said together again.
“Never mind, it isn’t necessary you understand cloning to know what happened next. Anyway the nine dead witches are still lying on the ground minus their heads, and when we looked up there are twelve witches again. And they all look kind of the same. Long black hair flying wildly in the wind, long black dresses, pointy finger nails and sharp teeth… feckin’ ugly, just like you’d think witches might look.”
He looked at the slightly offended look on Alainn’s lovely face, her blue eyes and long golden hair.
“Sorry, Alainn, you’re not like most witches. I doubt this lot was from the line of fairies. They were all dressed in black…
no pointy black hats though or green skin.”
Alainn and Killian wore identical expressions of bewilderment.
“Misconceptions of witches in the twenty-first century as you’ll soon come to see, Alainn.”
Her eyes filled with dread as he mentioned her going to the future and Killian held her tighter. Even with the serious topic of what had happened with the witches and Lugh and Danhoul that night, with the three of them, sitting together conversing over goblets of ale, their certain fondness for each other and their comradery had lightened the dismal mood till now.
Killian cast a disparaging look at Danhoul for alluding to the time when she would need to go to the future and they would be parted.
Danhoul cleared his throat, looked apologetically toward her and then continued speaking. “So we’re back to square one, twelve angry witches, probably angrier since nine of their own are lying dead on the ground.”
“Minus their heads.” She smiled trying to dismiss her melancholia.
“Aye. And Lugh is calling to Aine and to Dagda. Christ, he even tried to summon Cythrawl and Mac Lir, and you probably noticed they’ve no love for one another since Lugh has battled Cythrawl on several occasions and he won Enbarr from Mac Lir centuries ago, but those are other stories I’ll tell you at another time. So, apparently, no one in the realm of the gods could hear Lugh or deemed it important enough to come to our aid.”
“Aye, I tire, also, of the gods’ selectiveness in assisting us,” Alainn proclaimed.
“So, how did you get away, for nothing remained of any witches when we left that tower that night?” Killian asked in hopes of distracting Alainn in her displeasure regarding the gods.
“And where was Shylie in all of this for she looked as though she wouldn’t have even considered leaving your side when last I spotted her,” Alainn declared.
“She was doing what she could to assist us and I think it was surely her magic that kept me from being killed straightaway. We were surrounded by the twelve of them and then the meanest, nastiest ugliest witch, worse than you could imagine in your wildest dreams appeared only a short distance away from us.”
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