Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (10 page)

The woods had grown
calm once more.

Daire
knocked another arrow ready while the
men
cautiously approached
.

Unfazed that he was clearly outnumbered, Árdal continued to advance upon
Shiovra
.
“Don’t be c
oy with me, girl,” laughed the man
. “
I know very well that a priestess is not allowed to
kill
.
” He grinned
brutally and reached out with filthy
hands for
Shiovra
.

She took a step back. “I said
,
do
not
step closer
,” she warned firmly, keeping her calm.

“
Shiovra
!”
Daire
shouted
.

From the corner of her eye,
Shiovra
could see the
curly haired
woman ho
ld
ing
her arm
out, keeping
Daire
at bay
.

“Stay put,
Daire
, lest you get yourself hurt as well,” she ordered.

“I
can help her
!”
Daire
growled.

“
Do not be a fool
!” retorted the woman.

Árdal loomed closer to the priestess and she met his gaze steadily.
His grin spread wildly as he reached his hand out to grab for her.

A triumphant smile
touched
Shiovra
’s lips
. The energy that had gathered around her prickled her skin and, as his hand neared, the air
rippled
suddenly
and a blinding bolt
of lightning crackled out at him.

Árdal cried out in rage and pain, flung away by the force of strong power. It would not kill him
, only stun him
.

Summoning the elements
in such a form was exhausting
and to have summoned more than on
e had taken a
great deal out of her. Feeling drained,
Shiovra
fell back.

“
Shiovra
!”
Daire
caught
her before she hit the gr
ound. “Are you all
right?” he asked
anxiously, steadying her
.

“
I am but a
bit tired,” she reassured him
, holding tightly onto his arms to keep from sinking to the ground
.
She took a deep breath, focusing on regaining her strength.

Crazed laughter
swelled from
Árdal
as he
rose
unsteadily to his feet. Though
his body shook from the lingeri
ng tremors caused by the lighting, the intensity of his laughter only grew
and brought hesitation to the advance of the
men
.

“Ha! Foolish Túath wench
! You only tire yourself using these
tricks
on me!” His eyes flickered to
Daire
. “I
know
you.
You are that half-breed
Daire
, are you
not? The son of a Túath woman and Fomorii man.
I have
heard about you,” Árdal
continued
, slowly walking
towards the
m. “Which
could only mean
that this lovely little High Priestess you protect so viciously, must be of Tara then. Am I right?”

Shiovra
tensed and she co
uld feel
Daire
do so as well. The tone of the man’s voice, the words that he spoke, did not sit well with the woman.

“Heh…my lord would be
very
pleased if I was to bring you to him,” sneered Árdal.

“
Shiovra
,”
Daire
whispered in her ear
.

She titled her head up slightly to look
at him, but his eyes were trai
ned coldly upon Árdal, face unreadable much like his father’s
.

“Would you be all right if I sat you down on the ground?”
Daire
asked
Shiovra
gently.

From her left,
Shiovra
could see the curly-haired woman blanch and take a step forward.

“
Daire
!
Don’t be a fool
!” the woman exclai
med. “You cannot handle this alone!
”

“If I do not, Neimidh woman,
you’ll all be dead. Árdal will spare none of us to gain
Shiovra
,”
snort
ed
Daire
, frowning. “Would you have me let my cousin
fall into the hands of the like of him?!” There was a hint of unbridled anger in his voic
e as he helped
Shiovra
to the ground
. “She has not failed in her promise to protect others, but s
he has lost too much blood as
is from her injuries.
Anymore and it just may be her
life
.”

The woman
nodded. “Fine. Do what you must.”

Shiovra
reached up and grabbed
Daire
’s hand firmly in her own. He looked down at her and she met his eyes. “
Be careful
…” she breathed.

Daire
nodded and
she released his hand. Setting his face coldly
, he strode towards Árdal.

Without
Daire
for support,
Shiovra
felt weaker. The Neimidh woman rushed to her side and offered her support and her name:
Meara
.

“That man is a fool
,”
Meara
murmured.

“You wish to cast your life away so easily,
Daire
of Tara?” mocked Árdal
.

“I believe you may be mistaken for it is you
whose
life shall be forfeit!”
Daire
lunged
at the man. “You were foolish, Á
rdal, to underestimate me!” Swi
ng
ing
his fist up
, he
struck
Árdal in the face, then swiftly shifted
into a protective stanc
e. Scorn filled his eyes. “I will not allow you to best me!”

Shiovra
was surprised at her cousin’s quickness. With his favor of the bow, she had not anticipated her would be so quick on his feet. As she watched in marvel, a
sudden chill raced up her spine. “
Daire
! Look out!” she called out.

From the folds of his tunic, Árdal had drawn out
a dagger. The blade was tarnished so horribly it appeared black in color
. He paused
a moment
, almost admiring the blade with a look of madness in his eyes. “It is strange,” he murmured. “The most unusual man gave me this. He told me that with this, I would be undefeatable.”

The priestess shook her head in pity
. “You are indeed a fool
. That blade is worthless, Árdal,”
Shiovra
told him solemnly
.
“
It was
a man by the name of
Ailill who gave you
that, was it not? Such a weapon is a trickery forged by the Fomorii he has allied himself with.”

Daire
studied the dagger
, eyes narrowed on the blade
. “
Shiovra
spea
ks true. That blade is useless
.”

Árdal faltered, hesitating a
moment. He glanced at the dagger in his hand, then grinned wildly. “We shall see about that!” he
shouted,
lun
ging
at
Daire
.

Daire
moved swiftly, twisting
his cloak up over his arm and raising it to shield t
he blow. The dagger hit true
,
but the blade crumbled and fell
to the ground. Before Árdal could react,
Daire
brought his foot up and struck his roughly in the chest.

The man fell back, stumbling, and landed roughly on the ground.

“Ailill is using you. All you are to him is pawn. He seeks
revenge against the Túath, much like your own clan does
,”
Daire
said
. “They send men like you out, promisi
ng them land, cattle,
and women
. But all
you are is someone to do their toiling for them.”

Árdal’s face
filled with rage and
, with a cry that seemed to be ripped from deep within him, rose unsteadily to his feet. “This is not the end, Túath wench and half-breed! We will me
et again and you shall
regret this very day!” With that said, Árdal broke into a run, disappearing into the darkness.

Daire
looked down at the shattere
d dagger, shaking his head. Walking over to it, he picke
d up what remained
. “What a fool
.”
Daire
chucked the hilt into the trees
, cursing.

Shiovra
began to climb to her feet
.

“Lady Priestess!” protested
Meara
, trying to keep the priestess from standing.
“
Please don’t move, we must have your wounds tended to
.
”

“That is not necessary
at the moment…”
Shiovra
told the woman. “We need to get moving first, to find somewhere safe to make camp till daybr
eak.” P
ain raced through her body as she finally stood straight
. She
flinched and
took a few, staggering
steps towards
Daire
, but her
legs
were
too
weak
and she found herself faltering
.

Daire
hastened to her side as she lost all strength
and sank towards the ground. “Hold on, cousin
, I have you,” he said, voice distant in her ears.

Shiovra
felt his strong arms wrap around her. “Thank you…
Daire
…”she breathed
. Soft darkness enveloped her, and
she welcomed it.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

S
unlight shifted through the trees, cas
ting a pillar of bright warmth upon
Shiovra
as she slumbered
upon the soft turf.
Rest came fitfully to the priestess, filled with nightmares of war and bloodshed. Of fires with smoke that filled her lungs and
heat she could feel hot against her skin. Of the clash of swords ringing
in her ears
and screams filling the air
.
And of a hunt…for her.

Shiovra
woke with a start
, blinking in the
sunlight.
Trees loomed above her, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze.
She
lay on the cool ground looking up at them for a moment. Her mind lingering between dreaming and waking. Yet the wound on her side throbbed, reminding her of where she was and what events had taken place.

An attempt to sit only garnered a sharp jab of pain from her wound in protest, causing the priestess to fall back. Exhaling in frustration, she looked around.

From where she lay, she could see
Daire
leaning against a tree close
t
o her left
,
his eyes closed. The
men,
who had come to their aid, were
nowhere
to be seen.
Listening, for voices that could possibly betray their lingering presence, she could hear
the faint g
urgling of water nearby and
hoped it was the Boyne
River
.

“
Daire
…?” she began
,
but stopped, her
throat dry.