Born of Oak and Silver (The Caradoc Chronicles) (6 page)

A
heavy iron torque lay about his neck. Its ends were open, the tips adorned with what appeared to be iron balls etched in symbols. Between the ends, twisted iron roped its way around him. Although a Celtic torque was an unexpected thing to see on the old man’s neck, it was discovering that his entire torso and arms were fully covered by swirling black tattoos that I found to be most unnerving.

Bram remained
impartial and unmoving despite my critical gaze. When he next spoke, it was methodically. “You do not truly know me.”

I allowe
d my face to show my confusion.

Bram
continued, “You know the man, Daine, but you do not know
me
—neither my purpose nor my passion. You have come to know a portion of me, but you must know some of what I consider to be sacred and secret to really know me.” His white, bushy eyebrow quirked up in question, wondering if I understood.

I
gave no reply, maintaining the mask uncertainty.

He sighed and lowered his arms from the raised position
that he had been holding them in. “Daine, my name is Bramwyll Áedán
Roithridh Muireach
Macardle.” The ancient being in Bram’s eyes now considered me openly for the first time in seven years. “I was born in Drumcliff, Ireland, one hundred and sixty-nine years ago. I am a Druid, born to one of the four original bloodlines. Of those four bloodlines, only two remain—and you, Daine
Caradoc
Dalton, are the only male with potential to be born to yours in generations.”

I looked at him
incredulously, unconsciously toying with the heavy silver ring that hung from the chain around my neck.

“Daine, I speak honestly
. Do not think that I cannot see the disbelief in your eyes. Consider a moment, if you will: would your ring respond to you if you were not a Druid?”

I
paused to consider it. I had no other explanation for the way my cells vibrated with life whenever the ring slipped onto my finger. I didn’t know what a Druid was, so perhaps it was as good a reason as any. However, it was entirely impossible for him to be as old as he claimed. Seventy-nine or eighty-nine: either of those, or somewhere in between, he could easily be. But, one hundred and sixty-nine . . . My spirits began to lower as I realized that age was clearly beginning to take a toll on his mind.

“Bram, I don’t know what to say,
” I said as I shook my head somberly.

“I
know you do not, Daine. You have not been taught. History has long forgotten to include our stories in its pages,” Bram sympathized. He stooped and picked his shirt off the floor, returning to his well groomed self before my eyes. “But remember, knowing nothing of something does not make it false.”

I raised my
eyes and looked into his plainly. “Yes, that is true. It’s just that . . . well . . . ,” I looked back down at my hands resting on the tabletop as I confessed, “I have to be honest. What you’ve said just doesn’t seem to be in any way probable. You cannot be one hundred and sixty-nine years old, Bram. You just can’t,” I managed to squeak, my voice coming out in barely a whisper.

I mustered my courage, swallowing
the lump of sorrow that had started to form in my throat, and slowly stood up from my seat and began to gather my papers and books from the table.

“Daine,” Bram said softly, steppi
ng forward but keeping the table between us, “I know what I have just told you would seem to be unreasonable. But I have never said anything to you that was not true. I am a Druid. You are a Druid—and an uncommonly strong one at that. You have been able to memorize and recite all of the Druid texts in half of the standard time, and I have seen you harness the Earth and her elements for your benefit. You just did not know what it was you were doing. It is second nature to you.”

“
Bram, I don’t even know what a Druid is, so how can I know what you have seen me do that supposedly makes me one of them?” I didn’t believe him.

“
A Druid is a keeper and protector of the Earth. A wielder of her elements. As for seeing you, I have seen you demonstrate many talents. But the one that you will most easily recognize is using the wind to run faster than any other boy of your size is capable of doing.”

I looked down sheepishly. There were times when I felt that I
wanted to run faster, and so I did. The wind would blow steadily at my back, seeming to press me forward. My feet would hardly touch the ground. There was never a time that I felt so free.

Then Bram leaned forward,
placing hands on table. His countenance was genuinely intent as he said in a low voice, “And most astoundingly, I have seen you bear the presence and full glamour of the Sidhe and walk away entirely unfazed. What’s more, you did so when you were scarcely outside of your infancy. Now
that
is something that should be impossible. Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it myself.” He then pushed himself away from the table and stood resolutely while waiting for my response.

The
air grew heavy around me. It pushed at me, emphasizing the validity of Bram’s words. My mind and heart raced. I stood steady but entirely speechless, and could concentrate on nothing more than breathing in and out through my panic. Gradually the atmosphere returned to its normal condition, and it became easier to work through my thoughts of astonishment and disbelief. Just when I was about to open my mouth to speak, Bram turned away from me and walked toward the fire. He grabbed the iron poker and adjusted the logs so that the fire would burn hotter. He then turned his face in my direction.

“Daine, I ha
ve taught you all that you need to know in order to succeed at whatever endeavor you should choose to pursue in your lifetime. You can read and comprehend the old masters, as well as being able to use mathematical skill and science in contemplation of the world around you. I have taught you everything I originally promised to, and heretofore I will no longer serve as your teacher in these matters.”

He began to pace before the fire, his hand thoughtlessly caressing his beard as he added, “If
it is your desire to continue your education at higher institutions of learning, I will provide for everything that you should need financially in order to do so. You may attain whatever degree or degrees you desire—it will have no effect upon my support of you or your decision.”

Abruptly
he stopped pacing and walked to stand close to me; his eyes refused to hide the ancient awareness inside. He smiled, familiarly and warmly, and placed his hands on my shoulders while he stooped a little to be able to look me in the eyes.

“However, if you woul
d like to be instructed on how to become who you really are, a Druid, I will agreeably consent to your request and from that moment forward, consider you my apprentice.” He patted my shoulder lovingly and added as he stood up straight, “You have quite the decision before you. Think on it well. If I do not see you for studies tomorrow morning, I will not regard you any differently for your decision.”

I
nodded unseeingly. I walked past him without looking at him—I just couldn’t. It was with great sadness that I left his drawing room, crossed the foyer, opened the heavy old door and stepped through, hearing it close solidly behind me. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, opening them again as I exhaled. Slowly, I began the walk home.

Bram must be going mad.
That was the only reason for it all. I kicked a fist-sized rock down the trail in my frustration and anger. The birds happily sang in the warming spring sun. A light breeze blew through the greening, tall grass and the new leaves on the trees. It was a beautiful day. However, I was so flustered worrying about Bram that I couldn’t think of anything else but what he’d just told me. And, more importantly, what was I supposed to do about it? I needed a place to think, somewhere I wouldn’t be bothered. I was reluctant to think of it at first, but admitted that it would be the perfect place for undisturbed solitude.

I hadn’t been back to our river’s side since the afternoon of my fifth birthday. I was
scared of it. But no one else ever went there either. So, instead of continuing on the well used path that would take me home, I turned left into the tangle of grass, brush, and weeds, and made my way toward the river.

I held my breath when
I first saw it, waiting for all of the horrors the imagination of a twelve-year old boy can conjure to magically appear. But it was completely ordinary. The birds sang, insects buzzed, and the wind flowed through the trees. I chided myself for being so ridiculous. I continued walking until I found a large flat-topped boulder that looked down upon the river flowing gently ten feet below. The warm spring sun shone through the trees above and gave the rock a bright speckled appearance as its rays fell and warmed it. I climbed up its side, and after surveying all that was around me, sat down in peace.

I listened to the river running
by, the birds singing overhead, and soon felt drowsy. Thinking better than to use a boulder for a pillow, I removed my jacket and balled it up under my head. Lying down, I closed my eyes and breathed easily as the sun shone down on me, perfectly content. My thoughts did not organize themselves easily as I lay there. Instead, I found that I had entirely forgotten what it was that I had so desperately needed privacy to think about. Rather than try to remember, I drifted complacently into a warm and lazy sleep.

I awoke uncomfortable. In a way I had yet to ever experience.

It wasn’t unpleasant, but I felt desperate to relieve a need that I wasn’t able to articulate, let alone knew how to alleviate. I moved to stretch my legs, and groaned in pleasure as my pants rubbed against me. I opened my eyes, shocked. The air once again was humming, the wind had ceased to move in the grass and trees, and the birds and insects had disappeared and were entirely silent.

I froze in absolute terror.

Everything I saw shimmered and seemed more richly colored than I’d ever remembered it to be. It was difficult to breathe or think. I remained still, attempting to remember where I was and just what was happening.

“Daine,” a rich
and sensual feminine voice purred.

I gulped the air as
my every cell trembled with arousal.

“It has
been too long. Why have you stayed away from me for all these years? I have missed you exceedingly,” the voice pouted as it grew nearer.

I looked around for its source but couldn’t see anything am
iss in the now sparkling world. “Who . . . who are you?” I gasped as I strained against the sexual awakening that was almost too much for me to bear.

“It is I
, Daine, your forgotten friend and lover. Maurelle. Surely you cannot have forgotten about me, have you, Daine?” Her voice caressed every inch of my body, inside and out. She was nearly beside me. I shut my eyes fiercely in a single, futile effort to protect myself against a force I knew I was powerless to resist.

“Come, Daine. Take my hand. I will
teach you wonders that you have not yet even begun to dream about. It can be just you and me, forever.”

I opened my eyes and was nearly blinded by th
e vision that knelt beside me in loosely draped ruby-colored silk.

Her long
, blonde hair shimmered like a many-faceted yellow sapphire in the sunlight. Her pale, glowing skin was the perfect setting for radiant, azure eyes, and her plump, rosy lips promised both passion and pleasure. Although she was lean, she was still supple. A delicate hand with perfectly groomed nails begged for my own, as a smile that promised unthinkable experiences played demurely on her lips. Her brilliance put the sun to shame. She was too beautiful to be a part of this world.

Only in visions or dreams
could something even remotely close to her exquisiteness be created. I breathed in her heavenly scent, and shuddered as my young body released everything that its pubescent form could manage. Her hand came up to caress my face, and came away smeared with red, though she seemed not to notice. I myself did not care either while she knelt beside me. My eyes were bleeding purely from the sight her undiminished glory.

At
her slightest touch, I again lost myself to her. I was unable to move. Despite being frightened, I lacked the will or the capacity to do so. I was completely at her mercy, lying on top of the boulder in the sun. She smiled bewitchingly, as her hand then went down to the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head and tossed it aside.

I smiled at the sensation of it and was compl
etely surprised when she winced, pulling her hand away with a grimace.

“What’s wrong, what is it?” I implored her,
anxious to resolve whatever was causing her discomfort.

I followed her eyes. T
hey were fixed on the ring that lay on my chest, still fastened around my neck by its simple, iron chain. She moved gracefully, positioning herself a few paces away from me.

B
eguilingly she spoke. “Daine, would you mind removing your necklace for me? It is such a beautiful piece that I believe it would be best for you to place it somewhere that it cannot in any way be damaged by our play. Perhaps wrapped in your shirt so that you will not lose it?” she offered.