Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) (7 page)

“But Jamie,” continued Airard, “During the middle of the day, when they are not expecting darkness, the enemy would be powerless against us.”

“Are ye sure about this Odetta?” Jamie asked.

“Aye, I know the day,  hour, to the minute, to the second even,” she responded.

“And ye trust her Airard?”

“Aye,” replied the druid priest.

“How will I explain this to our men, how will I train them for such an attack?” Jamie asked.

“Who better to prepare the men to fight in darkness, Jamie?” Odetta said. “Ye, who have been in darkness since birth, ye, who has been in darkness for this verra purpose, ye will lead our people through the darkness and into daylight and victory!”

“Aye,” replied Airard. “May it be so!”

S
EVEN

Burke Territory

Easal scratched at his short beard and paced the perimeter of his darkened chamber. A chambermaid scrambled to make a fire in the hearth before encountering his wrath and unleashing a diatribe of indecipherable words as was his typical bed-time form. She wasn’t sure what language it was that he spoke when he spoke thus, but she was sure she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it, whatever it was. Light from the hearth illuminated his chamber and cast foreboding shadows upon the wall. His shadow form was freakishly large, larger than any human she had ever seen and shaped much differently than that of a man. She knew Easal was a monster, she just didn’t know he was really a  monster, until now.

Sputtering out of the room backward, she made her obligatory bows first to Easal, then to Ochnar, his guard and lastly to Marina, his personal aide, and advisor. The woman gave her pause, sending chills up and down her spine. She wasn’t sure who to fear more, Easal or Marina.

“Shall I find a replacement for
her
?” asked Marina to Easal sarcastically. “Ye’ve only gone through five maids in the last few weeks, what’s another one?”

“Nay,” retorted Easal, who sounded more tired by the moment. “I tire of learning their names.  I haven’t the patience to deal with it at the moment.”

“Well, I’m certainly no’ about to start cleaning yer chamber pot and bathing ye my Lord,” she said. “I’ve more to offer than simple, domestic services,” said the gray-haired Marina. She she ran her bony fingers along the outer edge of a pile of scrolls haphazardly strewn across the side table. “In fact, me thinks the services ye do require are those of a much, much younger lass. We both ken ye need a babe to take yer – uh – place in this world, and a younger lass can be both a companion and a maither for yer bairn.”

“There are no ‘lasses’ to be found who would agree to such an arrangement, Marina.”

“Aye, I must agree with you there. I think if ye went searching and found a lass that mayhap wasn’t from around here, mayhap she might be amenable to such an arrangement, seeing as how ye are the Lord and all. There must be some match of sorts we can make with a lass from somewhere else, someone who hasn’t heard all the rumors, perhaps someone who ye could mold into what it is ye need. Obviously, she should be someone willing to accept yer particular set of
proclivities -
yer circumstances. Someone who wouldn’t care about the details. Someone who sees the power in the position of Lord’s wife and who would be hungry to share just a little bit of that power.” She set down the scroll she was holding and walked towards him, lightly stroking the edge of his cheek with the back of her hand.

“Easal, ye know there is more power in two than there is in jest one.”

“I am not “jest one,'” the low sounding growl rolled off of his tongue and echoed throughout the chamber. It echoed against the walls, shaking the table and sending the logs in the fire crashing upon one another spewing ashes and light.

“Aye, aye, my Lord,” she gulped in fear. “Of course, ye are more than jest one,” she added. “But, the people, the clansman, they have fled our lands.”

“Good riddance,” he barked back.

“My Lord,” she responded gently patting him on the shoulder, “Whether ye believe it or not, to get what ye need, ye need the Burke people themselves.”

“What I need is to leave this place, as soon as possible!”

“I ken that is what ye want. I really do. But I also know that if the people believe that the lands – their lands – will be returned to them, they will return, and they will work for ye, for us, for their lands, their heritage, their families. Ye jest need to make them believe in ye that ye are on their side, that ye want them to belong here and that ye are not the monster that Odetta says that ye are. Make them truly believe that ye are Easal and they will come back home.”

“Why would it matter to me if they were here or there? All I need is the nexus, it will get me home and I will never have to see these people ever again.”

“Easal, don’t ye see if the people believe in ye again, if they believe in the Burke clan, then they will help ye find whatever ye want. They will help ye take back the Island territory, they will do it for ye – their leader. They won’t even need to know why they are doing it. By the time ye are gone, it won’t even matter to them.”

“Ugg,” was the only reply that came from the large man who stood gazing out over the hills towards the sea.  He was a mighty sight, large by anyone’s standards, with long red-brown, flowing wavy hair that hung down passed his tartan, nearly touching his waist. His plaid was crinkled from his day’s activities, but he wore it, it seemed to make the soldiers happy.  His boots were mud-caked and worn and there was the slightest smell of sulfur that lingered. He’d been in the catacombs and Marina wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.  “I’m no’ altogether certain we’ve even the slightest possibility of finding a lass as ye describe. “Even if’n I subscribed to yer – uh – theory.”

A low grunt interrupted their conversation. “Uh, my Lord, ye see,” interjected the guard, “I believe I may know of someone who might fit that description,” said Ochnar.

“Ye do? Do ye?” asked Marina. “Do tell then.”

Easal grunted in return and nodded his head as he sat down with a thud against the back of the bench-once-a-church-pew along the far wall under the window, sending the bench scraping against the stone surface. “Go on with ye,” he muttered.

“Well, sir, ye see, sir there are the prisoners.”

“The prisoners?” asked Marina. “Why would we even consider a ‘prisoner’” for such a station? Easal, we have prisoners? I thought all the prisoners had escaped with the refugees?”

“The ones from the shipwreck?” Easal asked, completely ignoring Marina’s interjection.

Ochnar responded, “Aye, my Lord. As ye may recall, there were four survivors. They’ve been holding up in the Ole’ Missus Edwards’ cottage. Not prisoners per se’ mind ye,” he directed to Marina in particular. “But not free to go jest yet either.”

“What have they to do with this Ochnar? Get to the point – quickly,” Easal demanded.

“Well, my Lord, if memory serves me correctly and from what I can relay from the Ole’ Missus, one of the survivors was a young lady. She is  a might striking little lass when I think about it. Well, they were all discussing where they needed to be and where it is they were a’going after they were all well enough to get on by themselves. That lil’ lass there said she had no idea where she would be a’going. That's on account of her fellow she was going to meet and marry in O’Malley Lands had gone and got himself entangled with one of the O’Malley sisters.”

“An O’Malley sister?” Marina asked. “I wonder which one?”

“Well, and she only did know this on account of Naelyn, mind ye. Naelyn’s sister Gemma told her when she went on that visit ye let her take, and then Naelyn told me and the Ole’ Missus when we visited with the shipwreck survivors. Well, it seems that Flynn – that is the name of the fellow that she was a gonna marry…”

“Flynn?” shouted Easal. “Did ye say, Flynn?” he repeated banging his oversized hand on the bench beside him and rising at the same time.

“Aye, my Lord,  a fellow by the name of Flynn Montgomery.”

“Ochnar,” whispered Marina, “That is the captain of the guards of the O’Malley clan! Ye mean all this time we’ve had the wife to be of the O’Malley clan, right her under our noses?”

“Well, I suppose I simply didn’t know who this Flynn fellow is my Lord. My apologies, I assure ye had I known he was someone of such station, I would have told ye immediately.”

“Who else knows?” asked Easal.

“What does she look like Ochnar?” Marina interrupted.

“Who else knows?” Easal shouted this time to Ochnar.

“Well, jest me and the Missus I suppose my Lord.”

“Good, keep it that way, Ochnar. No one is to know she has any ties whatsoever to the O’Malleys. Is that clear? No one else, anyway,” he added.

“What sort of lass is she?” asked Marina.

“Well,” Easal spurted, “tell her.”

“Well, she is verra pleasant to look at, I’d have to say that. She has long flowing golden hair, she’s a might petite, pretty puckered lips and nice eyes. She’s got herself a fiery temper though; she is downright murderous with rage over her beloved – I mean – her betrothed’s dalliance. Seems she was dead set on being married to a man of high station and said something about ‘cutting him down’ for what he’d done. Sharp tongue too – whoo whee – that lass there has flowery speech if I ever did hear any,” he laughed.

“I bet,” Marina chuckled, “She’s no doubt a full-fledged Scottish lass.”

“Go on,” Easal continued.

“Well, seems to me, my Lord, she is the type that might get really excited about the prospect of finer things, and being the Lord’s wife,” he said. “Jest from looking a’ her ye can tell she has certain expectations, ye know, fine clothing and what-not. She would definitely look the part and she seems smart enough. I don’t think she’d take too well to a philandering man though, from what the men accompanying her have said, she’s pretty adept with a dagger,” he chuckled, scratching his chin.

Marina chuckled, “I don’t think we’d have to worry about that Ochnar, Easal is a mon of honor.” She exchanged knowing glances with Easal and a plan was born. “Ochnar, please tell the Missus that the Lord requests the honor of her presence and that of the prisoners – our guests – please Ochnar, call them our “guests”, tomorrow evening in the great hall. We will discuss their safe return to their ports of origin.”

“Ye mean to send her back, do ye?” Ochnar asked, looking puzzled.

“Jest ye let me handle that part,” said Marina. “Ochnar, I will have a missive for ye to deliver to the Missus, come back at sun-up for it, it will be ready then.”

“Aye,” he said as he bowed and backed his way out of the chamber, clear that he had been dismissed.

“Wait,” grunted Easal. “What is this lass called?”

“Ah – I believe they call her Aisling.”

E
IGHT

Dragon’s Point

She watched as the red dragon tenderly groomed the young, blue, dragon, careful not to be rough with its malformed wing. She determined this must be the mother, and the young its offspring.  No longer in fear for her life,
why else would she still be alive
, Daenal sat down peacefully against the stony wall and let the sounds of the water fall calm her into a peaceful oblivion. Of course, she still wondered why she was there, but realized that no amount of anxious imaginations would give her that answer, and so, she simply trusted. She trusted that she was here for a reason that she was needed, perhaps she could help and when the time came, she would be willing and ready to do so.

The young blue dragon knew she was there, having looked her in the eye several times, appearing to be just as inquisitive about her as she was of he. It was a “he” alright; the tell-tale signs of newly cut horns blistered the top side of its dark blue head.  They had just finished their meal of fish and other sea creatures and curled up tenderly next to one another, grooming and preparing for slumber. She presumed as it was nearly sun up. The hare was putting off an inviting aroma after the red dragon tossed it upon a stone and lit it afire. Was it a
peace
offering of some kind? Daenal was growing very hungry and her low blood sugar told her to eat or sleep or pass out. She wasn’t sure which would happen first, but she was ready to find out just how done the hare was at this point.

Reaching in her left boot, she retrieved the dagger her Uncle Ruarc gave her as a child and inched slowly on all fours towards the center of the cave, towards the stone containing Red’s burnt offering. The dragons looked up only long enough to notice her movement and then turned away, back towards each other, to their bonding moment. It was surreal almost how caring they seemed to be with one another
.  It’s too easy to believe that unusual creatures are monsters, I suppose,
she thought to herself.

Tearing into the nearly well-done hare, Daenal ate her full. Never had she been more grateful for freshly cooked meat, season-less or not. The young, blue dragon watched her, almost as if he were mesmerized by her skillful method of skinning, then fileting the already cooked gift from his mother. She had no doubt she was the first human form to have reached his eyes, and wondered secretly what they told each other when they looked at one another.

A flash of light caught her off guard and sent her reeling backward, towards the rocky cave wall behind her. Grasping her pounding head, Daenal rocked back and forth; hoping to stave off what she thought might be an impending migraine.  The ground spun beneath her and almost as if she had fallen dead asleep, she was suddenly in a dream-like world. She was spinning, swimming and floating weightlessly above the cave floor, looking down upon her surroundings.  Another flash and she was now on a rocky shoreline, watching from a distance behind rocks as five burly men struggled against something trapped in the dark. It was caught in a net, and it was fierce, angry, terrified and monstrous.