Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (18 page)

“He has been coming closer to us in the past few moments,” Odhrán said
calmly
.

“Most likely a
huntsman of Cah
er Dearg,” she told them
, rubbing her face warily. They were dangerously close to
Méav
’s domain
.
Méav, who not only turned her back on her kin, but fooled Ailill and garnered his fury. “We should not linger here
…”

“
Do you think
Méav
will try something
?”
asked
Daire
.

“I would not like to find out,”
Shiovra
told him.

Odhrán
listened is silence, bringing his bowl to his lips and taking a drink.

The priestess sighed.
“We should hasten to Dún Fiáin.”

“Hmm?” came
Daire
’s
muffled reply.

Shiovra
looked at her cousin as he
watched
her with a handful of dried meat hang
ing from his mouth like a starving child. Shaking her head, she told him “Hurry and finish your meal. W
e have tarried here long enough.”
Rising to her feet,
Shiovra
fastened her cloak about her shoulders, then handed Odhrán his own. “I thank you for your kindness,” she said softly and was granted with a small nod.

There was a tug of apprehension pulling at her
.
Méav’s huntsmen were a foul lot, known for their cruelty and lack of fear of death.
And most often they did not travel alone. In truth, the priestess feared them more than even the Milidh. And so she anxiously
watched the ar
ea surrounding them while
Daire
cleaned up the camp.

The huntsman had stopped trying to conceal his presence, shifting back and forth between the trees.

“Let us head out,”
Daire
ordered.

“Aye, let us,”
Shiovra
agreed, her eyes narrowed on the form of the huntsman who stood not too far away.

They
made their way along in silence for some time.
Shiovra
continued to keep a wary eye on their surroundings and a quick glance at Odhrán told her that the man did the same. Though
Daire
did not seem to grasp the possible danger, Odhrán appeared to know full
well what awaited them
in the woods.
The huntsman continued to lurk behind them. And though
Shiovra
saw no others, she knew that they couldn’t be far behind.

“
Think we should rest?”
Daire
asked
after a good while, rubbing the back of his neck.

“
Not yet,”
Shiovra
said quietly. “It is not safe.
”
Her hand clenched on the hilt of the dagger she carried.

“If we do not stop and rest now, we will not have the chance till close to nightfall,” insisted
Daire
, “and even then we’ll be too close to Caher Dearg.”

“That may be, but the huntsman continues to follow,” Odhrán told him bluntly.

Groaning,
Daire
fell silent.

As they crossed a small stream, the borders of Ca
her Dearg
became
visible
off to the west. In the distance, looming at the crest of a barren
mound
stood the circular stone
fort
surrou
nded by a heavy forest that gave off a dark, cold feeling.
Home to Méav, Caher Dearg was a dreaded place
.

Once the High Priestess of Tara, wife of a chieftain, and mother to Tríonna, Réalta, and
Gráinne
, Méav had turned her back on clan and villag
e.
She
took Ailill as a lover
, promising him power beyond his beliefs, and once she had taken control of his village and warriors, she cast him aside
.

The path they were taking them would lead them straight through the woods surrounding Méav’s domain. The
d
ense and dark forest was deadly and
the journey through th
em would have to be made with great haste
.

Shiovra
knew what the huntsmen were capable of
.  T
here would be no escaping them.
Already too man had begun to surround them.

A moment of pause was brought to
Shiovra
’s step.  Creeping across the ground, rolling its way to them was a thick, heavy fog. It carried with it a cold so bitter that the priestess found herself momentarily frozen. It was in that moment of hesitation that a filthy hand reached out to cup around her mouth while another snaked around her body, dragging her roughly away.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Daire
had begun to find the quite of the woods unnerving. He did not like the idea of passing so closely to Caher Dearg, but it would bring them to Dún Fiáin decently sooner than if they had taken the pains to avoid Méav’s reach. Yet, the deeper they walked into the dark trees, the more he began to question the rationality behind his decision.

“We will still be lingering around the edges of Méav’s domain when night falls,” began
Daire
. “Would you be able to place some sort of protection circle around our campsite,
Shiovra
?”

Silence greeted him.

“
Shiovra
?”

Daire
glanced at Odhrán, then spun on his heels.

Off in the distance, a bird cried out suddenly,
and then
dead quiet filled the air.

“
Shiovra
?”
Daire
called out, panic filling him.

A thick wall of fog stood before them and nothing else. The priestess was nowhere in sight and her dagger lay at the foot of a tree.

The two men stood alone.

“Damn,”
Daire
swore under his breath
, running his hands through his hair and clenching it
.
They had been careless and now she was gone.

Odhrán crouched down and ra
n his fingers along the ground, his eyes narrowing on the scuffed earth. Standing stiffly, the Milidh man looked off in the direction of Caher Dearg
. “That way.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Shiovra
had been swept away into the darkness of the fog filled forest and quickly found
that any attempts to be free
from th
e burly man who had seized her were in vain. With her dagger gone and her strength nowhere in comparison to her captor’s,
Shiovra
was at a loss of how to get free.

The man
flung the priestess to the ground and, with a threatening dagger drawn and pressed to her throat, she was bound hand and foot. The huntsman then
hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Shiovra
lost all sense of direction as she was being carried along, but she did not doubt it brought her closer to Caher Dearg. As the woods quickly darkened with the coming of nightfall, she glimpsed a flickering firelight through the fog. As they neared, she saw it was a smal
l camp of huntsmen
gathered about a fire. The priestess swore
under her breath
.

One of the men stood up. He was tall with shaggy w
olf-gray hair and shifting gold-
brown eyes.
A
crude scar crossed jaggedly across his left cheek
serving as a warning of battles fought
.
“I sent you for game, not a prisoner,” he said roughly. “What is this?”

“A
pretty
little wench,” replied
Shiovra
’s captor with
a pleased tone
. He dropped her roughly onto the hard
ground. “For whatever pleasures she may give
.”

“
Well then, we shall have to see about that
.
She does look promising.
” He stalked towards
Shiovra
as
she sat in the damp grass.
Crouching down, he seized
her face roughly
and
turned it from side to side. With his free hand, he pushed the hair from the right side of her face, revealing the markings. “
She
is Túath
, possibly noble with as
clean
as she is
…” he growled. His gold eyes narrowed on the curlin
g lines of her left arm. “W
hat have we
here? A High Priestess it would seem
. What do we owe the honor of your presence?”

The priestess remained silent, her eyes never leaving the man’
s face as she began to gather the energy surrounding her.

“Answer when Cúmhéa asks a question!” hissed the man who had captured her as he hauled her roughly to her feet.

Shiovra
caught her breath as he jerk
ed her violently. Meeting his gaze fiercely, she expected
him to strike her at any moment.

“Answer!” the man repeated, brining his fist up.

His fist moved swiftly, but the priestess was quicker.
The air before her rippled as his hand slammed into an unseen barrier
mere inches from her face. Her dagger may have been lost, but she
was not completely without her defenses.

The man stumbled back, releasing
his grip on her as he shook his hand with a pained look written across his face.

Shiovra
fell back to the ground with a grunt.

“Ah, the priestess has claws,” muttered Cúmhéa in amusement. His eyes flickered to the man who had been foolish enough to strike the woman. “You should have known better when this wench is of the same blood as Lady
Méav
.” A cruel grin
twisted his lips. Laughing harshly, he gave
Shiovra
a mocking bow while
his eyes burned into hers. “You shall bring me some immense pleasure as I bring you before Lady
Méav
. And she will deliver you, broken and tamed, to Lord Caillte, Ailill’s war lord.”

“Do not be so sure of yourself, Cúmhéa,”
Shiovra
said in an even tone
. She maintain
ed
her composure, but what she saw in the
warriors’
cold eyes and the thoughts b
ehind them were greatly disturbing.

“Is that what you believe?” Cúmhéa’s grin broadened. “Perhaps, when Lord Caillte is through with you, he will bestow you upon me.” He grabbed
Shiovra
and hoisted her onto his steed, climbing astride after her. “Let us go, men. Caher Dearg awaits us.”

They rod
e
at a swift, jostling pace
.
Shiovra
dared once to move,
to make the ride less painful, only to have Cúmhéa’s looming hands stay any further
movement
.
The rough pace mingled with the lack of rest and food had begun to wreak havoc on the priestess, sending waves of throbbing pain through her head
.

It wasn’t long before t
he forest began to
gi
ve way to a
clearing where
the undeniable wall of a ringfort
rose
. They had reached Caher Dearg. Though not large, Caher Dearg was a place that could easily drive fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned warrior. The outer wall, made primarily o
f thick logs, j
utted up towards the sky like battle spears, the tips sharp and deadly.
Many rusted swords and shields lay broken and battered against the wall
, a warning against those who might try and trespass
.
Tattered, bloodstained banners were hung from crudely
fashioned
frames, put on display much like the broken weapons.
Within the wall, the cottages were laid out in a large ring following the curve of the wall with a large, main
cottage standing in the center, flanked by two crimson banners that shifted and snapped in the wind.

Once inside the gates,
Shiovra
was pul
led from the horse and partially dragged by Cúmhéa into the
main cottage
where he proceeded to stand proudly, like a hunter who had caught his first kill.