A Witch's Quest

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  She sighed and decided perhaps Killian was correct, now was not the time to tell him she had broken her marriage vows in order to protect Lily and to free the others. It wasn’t as though life wouldn’t be filled with any number of other pressing issues.

  Tomorrow and in the days and weeks to come there would be much unrest for them. She knew that; she feared that, for she knew they hadn’t seen the last of Ciara McCree, the dark coven of witches, or the evil demon that would possibly forever remain intent on taking her powers and her life.

  She also realized though she had convinced the king to be lenient with Ireland and she was certain Ireland would know a time of peace, she also knew her time with King Henry VIII would not be without long-reaching drastic consequences. But for now, she would abide Killian’s wishes and not speak of anything unpleasant. She would have this time with him. They would be happy and content for whatever time they were allowed and then she prayed they would find within them the strength that was needed to overcome what lay ahead for them.

  Alainn knew she would soon need to search for her father as well, for she sensed in finding him, he would play a magnanimous part in what happened in their future. Surely with her many unusual magical abilities she would be capable of ensuring they would seek peace and happiness.

  PART TWO

  Chapter Twenty

  Alainn smiled blissfully at the cherished sights before her. She gazed endlessly at the rolling hills and familiar green valleys, for she had been almost certain she would never see them again. She was undeniably relieved to be home in Ireland, at their castle, reunited with their friends and loved ones, and most especially to be with her husband, Killian. For the first time in a very long time there was no immediate or apparent threat to their love, their marriage, or their lives. Alainn adored this uncommon peaceful contentment. They’d spent much time together within their chambers, walking near the seashore, and roaming their vast land on horseback.

  She was ever-grateful to simply have this time together with her true love. Killian appeared to be equally appreciative of being together again, for they had both feared it would never be so. They were taking this much needed time renewing their relationship, their conversations, their affection, as well as their passion and intimacy.

  Alainn attempted to allow her memories of their time in England, of Killian’s lengthy stay in the tower, and her deplorable association with King Henry VIII to entirely dissipate. She’d had an ominous feeling regarding the happenings there, of Killian learning of the time she’d been forced to spend with the king, or of needing to reveal the truth to him. She’d still not decided what she would divulge to Killian. At times she wanted to speak of all of it, to tell him what had transpired and suffer the consequences of whatever his reaction might be. But sometimes when they were together and all was nearly as it was before they’d left for England, she simply wanted to keep putting more time between the appalling distant memories. Although she disliked keeping it from him and in the past they had encountered difficulties when they weren’t truthful with one another, she wasn’t certain any good could ever come from that reprehensible revelation. She prayed one day she would see those memories entirely gone from even the farthest reaches of her mind.

  Lily, the young girl they’d brought with them from England, was adjusting remarkably well to living here. Although she most certainly missed her parents and grieved their tragic loss, Alainn felt a new home and a fresh beginning was less trying for her than if she’d been made to return to the location where her parents had been killed.

  Since Danhoul hadn’t returned Lily’s affection in any manner bar courteous friendship, Lily had recently turned her eyes toward Cookson. She recalled the conversation she and Killian had on the subject just yesterday as she lay in his arms in their bed together.

  “Isn’t it perfectly wonderful that Cookson and Lily are getting on so well?”

  “Aye, they do seem to be a fine match thanks to you and your uncanny ability at matchmaking, Lainna. Did you magically pair them, then?”

  “I did not employ my magic, and in truth I did not intend to pair them romantically. The kitchen seemed the best place for Lily to spend her days. She wanted to be given employment for she said her parents would insist she did honest work for her food and lodging. She’s comfortable with kitchen duties having spent so much time in a kitchen with her mother. Cookson is a kind, gentle man and would never allow anyone to be anything but decent and respectful to Lily. He is protective of her as he’s always been with his sister Molly.”

  “Aye, that is most important considering her past and the violent abhorrent acts done to her when she was so young.”

  Alainn nodded in agreement.

  “Lily is young even now, Alainn. Do you suppose she is too young to be romantically linked to a man, even Cookson who I know to be a man of integrity?”

  “She is now five and ten, so aye, young, but I have loved you since I was considerably younger than Lily is now.”

  “But we did not act upon our love in an unacceptable manner until you were older.”

  “Aye, I was seven and ten, but I gave myself to you when we were not wed nor did I truly believe we would ever be allowed a life together. Some might deem that unacceptable.”

  “Aye, well I was two and twenty and I gladly took what you were offering for I had loved you nearly as long as I can remember.”

  “We needn’t worry that Cookson will affront Lily or wound her heart. Cookson is an honorable man with a warm hearty laugh and an affable pleasant demeanor. Though Lily is now finally speaking after being ever-silent for so long, she will always remain a quiet girl who understandably doesn’t trust men easily. Cookson tends to be shy in regard to women so the two of them seem naturally drawn to one another.”

  “You needn’t convince me, Alainn. I was merely stating you do seem to adore pairing others, and if they truly fall in love, then you’re more the happier.”

  She had smiled up at Killian and kissed him at his words.

  “I would wish for those I care for to know even a portion of the love and happiness we share, Killian.”

  “Perhaps when we make the journey with Cookson for Pierce and Molly’s wedding we’ll have Lily accompany us so that Cook and Margaret might meet their eldest son’s young love?”

  “That would be much to my liking and maybe Cookson will soon ask for Lily’s hand, perhaps they might even seek a double wedding,” she happily mused.

  “Lainna, my sweet love, you mustn’t rush them, allow them to decide for themselves, my wee match-making wife.” He had playfully swatted her backside and pulled her to him for a deeply passionate kiss which soon led to another time of fervent love-making.

  Alainn stood within the center of the stone circle with Danhoul and the spirit-girl Shylie O’Rorke, beside her. She’d not had any recent visions of Ciara, or of the coven of dark witches, not since she’d seen them surrounded by fire amid the stones back in England, yet she had felt the persistent need to revisit this grim location. She remained dubious they’d been killed and nearly certain they’d not seen the last of Ciara McCree. She would have preferred to believe the witches had all died by fire, put to death by the fire dragon’s blazing breath, but something within her perceptive mind would not trust it to believe Ciara and the coven were so easily done with.

  When she dwelled upon that thought it always left her attempting to decipher how there might have been two women who appeared entirely like Ciara, and a third an older, more disturbing form of the woman. She reasoned it was some dark spell that had created three women from one. She shook her head to dismiss the possibility and once more looked down at the stone circle.

  In all the time they’d spent in England, Killian’s captain MacKenzie MacArthur and his army had apparently continued to search high and low trying to discover what may have happened to Glynnis the healer. Ciara’s grandmother’s body had never been discovered though Alainn had found macabre testament that suggested the old woman had
been grievously tortured and surely killed.

  Alainn and Danhoul along with the magical spirits of Shylie and Diadra, had tried to discover whether the woman had been used as a sacrifice or for a dark spell, but they hadn’t come to a definite conclusion.

  Since their dealings with the demon in England, when he had caused Brendan O’Leary to wound her with the cursed blade, Alainn had thankfully not sensed him. She’d had no premonitions or visions, entirely no indication he was near or further pursuing her since their return to Ireland. Yet, it also caused her some discord in not knowing his location or when he might come to them again to cause unrest for them once more.

  The spirit girl nudged Alainn and her thoughts returned to her present task.

  Alainn placed her hand to the ground and used her powers to detect if any recent rituals or sacrifices had taken place. It appeared completely cold and unnaturally still as though no one had been here in the many weeks they’d been in England.

  Shylie shook her head and spoke.

  “I have not seen or sensed them either, Alainn, not even once. Sure, if they remained alive they’d return to this location knowing you and Killian have come home. Perhaps Ciara and the coven were indeed killed by the dragon’s fire. And good riddance to the lot of them!” Shylie shivered.

  “Aye, I would desire to believe that is the truth of it as well, Shylie. Yet, I dare to wonder if they together with the demon have managed a powerful concealment spell so we are unable to sense their presence.”

  Alainn noticed the terror in the spirit-girl’s eyes at that unwelcome possibility for it was that very demon who had taken Shylie’s life. She offered words of consolation. Though she did not believe it to be truth, she thought no good would come from the spirit being ever-fearful regarding the demon and the coven.

  “Perhaps they did die then back in England as my vision suggested, or maybe they’ve been sent to another realm or another time. Though I would not wish them and their evil upon anyone, I admit full well I would be relieved to be done with the likes of them forever!”

  Danhoul remained silent through the exchange and in truth Alainn reasoned he’d been uncommonly quiet since they had returned to Ireland. She looked at him with a curious expression attempting to hear his thoughts, but his eyes avoided meeting hers. He’d remained at the round tower almost entirely since they’d returned.

  The spirit woman, Diadra welcomed Danhoul staying at the tower with her. She’d been filled with relief to know they’d returned safely for she’d admitted to having a very bad sense that much ill would come from the journey to London. She’d been a witch who possessed second sight in life and apparently it remained with her even though she was now a spirit and had died thirteen hundred years ago.

  Diadra was also excited to learn they had met her one true love, Ardal, and that he had played an immense part into seeing them safe during the fateful time when they were nearly lost at sea. Alainn vividly recalled the moment when she came to a startling and most profound realization. It had been the very day they went to the tower after they’d returned from England.

  Alainn watched Diadra’s spectral eyes fill with unmistakable warmth and happiness as she listened to Danhoul speak of their time spent with Ardal.

  Alainn looked upon the two of them conversing together and was overcome with a distinct certainty. She felt undeniably guileless and unintuitive at that moment. How could she have missed it before? The same blue-grey eyes, the nearly identical habit of brushing the same wispy blonde hair from their eyes. How could she not have sensed that Danhoul was Diadra and Ardal’s child? He was the child they had been forced to protect from Ardal’s evil brother Odhran by having the gods take him to a safe place, to a different time. The gods had ultimately sent Danhoul to the future as a wee infant not long after he’d been born. Although she couldn’t begin to comprehend how Danhoul at the age of seven and ten had been born to parents who lived thirteen centuries earlier, she knew with no uncertainty she had fallen upon the truth. She recalled Danhoul once telling her he’d been found on the steps of a church, but he’d always been most unforthcoming regarding his childhood and who had raised him. Alainn’s awe and wonderment at her discovery must have been evident upon her face for she felt Diadra’s eyes upon her.

  Diadra had apparently noticed her staring at them knowingly. She swiftly turned away and then once more turned back with something close to fear or dread in her eyes. It was as though Alainn was not to have discovered the well concealed secret, and Danhoul must never learn of it.

  Alainn presumed it was by design that both she and Danhoul could not hear Diadra’s thoughts. It was clear he did not know and was not able to discover that vital information when it pertained to him, for often the same could be said about herself. It seemed her powers or premonition were lacking when it pertained to her. Now Alainn couldn’t discern whether it was only Diadra and Ardal who did not wish for Danhoul to fall upon the truth of it, or if perhaps the Celtic gods had a firm hand in keeping it secretive.

  Since the day she’d learned the truth of Danhoul, her thoughts and her resplendent imagination had dwelt on little else trying to discern through her abilities on the events surrounding Danhoul’s birth, where he had been taken as a newborn and who had raised him after he’d been discovered on the church steps. Both Diadra and Danhoul admitted they’d been to the future, but she wondered if that was where he had been taken after his birth or perhaps she’d omitted that part of her tale when she’d spoken to Alainn of it. Perhaps she’d actually gone to the future to give birth to her son, and he’d lived there for a time or maybe he’d simply travelled there at some other point in his life. She reasoned he must have spent considerable time in the realm of the gods where time remained nearly at a standstill. That would possibly be the only explanation for his young age. Her natural curiosity had left her undoubtedly yearning to learn more regarding the subject. She’d called upon her magic many times in order to attempt to discover the truth. She’d been startled when the Celtic goddess, her great-grandmother, Aine had appeared before her and proceeded to both soundly scold and warn her.

  “You must not dare to delve further into this matter, Alainn. It is imperative Danhoul does not learn of his parentage. One day he will know the truth, but not yet. Ardal and Diadra have kept it well concealed for centuries, you dare not interfere for until Odhran is found, Danhoul may well be in great peril. Do not speak to Diadra of this. Wipe those thoughts from your mind entirely, lest Danhoul hear them, or the demon discover the truth and alert Odhran! If you are unable to abide by our will we may be forced to wipe the memories from your mind!” she’d threatened.

  As quickly as she’d appeared, Aine had disappeared without giving Alainn the opportunity to respond. Alainn had felt admittedly annoyed at the god’s demanding tone and unusual curtness toward her. She’s wanted to tell her she was a witch with many magical abilities, not an impulsive child incapable of keeping carefully guarded secrets, but she’d managed to put aside her own temper for Danhoul’s safety.

  Danhoul’s voice pulled her from her memory and she attempted to clear her mind of any further thoughts of him and his parents.

  “There appears to be no evidence Ciara or any of the other dark witches in the coven have been present recently. It’s hoped they’ll simply not return to this location.” His voice did not hold confidence in that likelihood.

  Alainn quickly spoke on an entirely different subject as they left the stone circle behind them and walked through the woods.

  “You’ll be accompanying us to Castle O’Brien for Molly and Pierce’s wedding then?” Alainn questioned Danhoul.

  “Well ’tis not as if I have a choice in the matter, Alainn. Though at the moment you don’t appear to be in immediate peril, I maintain the deeply disturbing pain in my head if I distance myself from you, so aye, I’ll make the journey to Castle O’Brien with you and your husband.”

  Although his voice did not hold resentment at the situation, there was unmistakab
le resolve at the circumstances of their relationship and Alainn disliked knowing Danhoul had no say in never being far parted from her.

  “Don’t be fretful, Alainn. You are my charge and I your guardian. I don’t despair in my duties. That is not what has me displeased these days.”

  “Then what?” Alainn questioned not attempting to keep the serious conversation from the young spirit who accompanied them.

  “I can no longer accurately hear your thoughts or detect your location. Since you were struck with the cursed dagger it has been so. You are changed somehow and I am duly concerned. If I can’t communicate with you through telepathy or know your whereabouts, how am I to capably assist in keeping you protected?”

  “You think it was the cursed dagger that has caused this? Do you believe I retain some of the dark qualities brought on by the cursed evil that threatened to overtake me?”

  “No, I sense no evil within you, Alainn. I simply wonder if perhaps the cursed dagger in part may have been to sever the connections with your guardians who are meant to keep you protected from harm.”

  Alainn’s eyes filled with concern at that unsettling consideration and she pondered momentarily another possibility. Perhaps it may have been the gods who had ensured Danhoul didn’t hear her thoughts any longer because she had recently discovered the truth of his parentage. She decided to no longer dwell on these unpleasant topics for she simply longed for a time without tumultuousness.

  On two further occasions, she had attempted to speak to Killian on the time spent in the Tudor castle. Each time, it seemed Killian either didn’t care to hear her say the words, or perhaps neither one of them truly wished for their happiness to be shattered, and so she kept silent still, even knowing the longer she kept the dismal secret, the more difficult it would be to confess.