Celtic Shores (4 page)

Lucian shouted, “Now just wait a minute. What on earth are ye talking about?”

Patrick chose his words carefully, not willing to cause unnecessary fear or speculation.
How to say this without sounding daft?

“The B-Burke w-witch, she is a D-D-Dearg-due,” said Patrick reluctantly. “A bl-blood s-sucker.”

“Dearg-due!” exclaimed Ruarc. “’Tis no’ possible! They do not exist, ‘tis simply a myth,” he whispered, astonished at the theory.

“Hold on,” said Lucian. “Ye may be right Ruarc. She is probably not
the
Dearg-due we have heard tale about, but she is most definitely a drinker of blood. Patrick— do you really think she has lost her mind to the point she
thinks
she is
the
red blood sucker?”

Patrick nodded. “She has pr-proven ca-capable of b-banishing her own sister. Sh-she has t-taken male ch-children for th-the p-purpose of dr-draining and dr-drinking th-their blood. She no d-doubt be-believes she h-has an un-un-un-earthly p-power. Sh-she m-may b-believe sh-she is Dearg-due.”

“She is possessed of the devil!” interjected Galen. “We must call to Rome, we must have help!”

Lucian cast a wary glance at first Galen and then Patrick. “I see no need to involve the Church in this matter; we are more than capable of addressing this matter ourselves.”

“I’m no’ so s-sure a-about th-that, Lucian,” said Patrick. “I f-fear we m-may n-need all th-the help we c-can get. Galen, call to Rome,” he directed.

O’Malley Territory—Strong House—Kyra’s Chamber

Kyra O’Connell, daughter of Ruarc, threw up for the third time in less than an hour. After meeting Payton MacCahan, Patrick’s brother, and his fifty fighting men, and taking them to the river; she returned to her chamber feeling ill. She was attempting to dress for the wedding ceremony and reception, as well as the Samhain celebration later that evening, when her stomach got the better of her.

If I retch one more time, I think I may faint. Surely this is from swallowing the river water when the men pushed me in. I can’t imagine why I’d be ill otherwise.

“Kyra, I’ve brought ye some broth, dear,” said her mother, Atilde. “Ye look a might peaked, lass. Are ye sure you didna eat something spoiled?”

“I’m sure. It must be that awful river water that’s making me ill. I think I swallowed more than a mouthful,” replied Kyra.

“I still can’t understand why that mon thought to play ye thus. What an inappropriate display of brawn. He must be an eedjit to think he can just treat our people this way. Who does he think he is?” spurted Atilde under her breath.

“He thinks he is a Lord’s son and brathair to the new O’Malley Laird,” replied Kyra. “Besides, he’s not as all bad as that. He mistook me for a young boy, that is all. No doubt he believed Patrick had planned some type of jest at his expense.”

“Don’t ye go setting yer sights on the likes of him, Kyra. He is no kind of mon’. As far as I ken, Patrick is the only honorable one amongst that group of MacCahan lads. I hear tell his brathair Parkin is worse. At least that’s what I’ve been told,” she said tipping her head to the side, gauging Kyra’s response. “Ye know he has all manner of loose women after him, he does. And several bairns…born of different lasses …each of em, they say. He is not a mon for you either, my luv.”

“Ye needn’t worry on my account. I’ve no intention of getting involved with another man,” replied Kyra before gripping her stomach and grimacing in pain.

“Kyra, it’s most unfortunate that Aidan was killed; but you can’t let the death of yer betrothed keep ye from moving on in life dear,” said her mother, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Kyra hadn’t thought to ever marry after that fateful day. Aidan was out hunting and was dragging the fallen doe back to the clearing when what they presumed was a pack of hungry wolves attacked. Aidan did his best to fight them off from what they could tell, but there were obviously too many. He lay on the forest floor for possibly two days, bleeding from nearly twenty wounds and puncture marks. Vynae made his last days as comfortable as she could; but in the end, it was the fever that took him. He never regained consciousness; so they never knew for sure what had happened.

It was why her father made it clear that no one would hunt alone again. The dictate riled Darina to no end. She loved her afternoons with her falcon, Riann, and relished her alone time hunting. But that was not to be anymore.

Kyra had an idea what might be wrong with her, but she pushed the thought to the furthest corner of her mind.
I haven’t the time to worry about that now
. She and Aidan were handfasted during the prior Samhain celebration; and were to be formally married by the priest on this very day. Instead, it was Darina having a ceremony. Kyra wouldn’t let herself think about how unfair this was. She loved Aidan and the life they shared together. Why had the gods punished her so?

She was quite sure she would never love another as she loved Aidan. Growing up in the same village, they spent most of their time together, as often as possible. He was one of only a handful of young men to come to the clan when the soldiers came to O’Malley territory. His father, Murchadh, was Ruarc’s right hand man, and was torn to bits at the news of his son’s demise.

Kyra knew if what she thought was making her ill was the truth, that she would love the child. She would love the child with every breath she would take, because it was Aidan’s. Her parents would love the child and Murchadh and his wife would love the child. There would be no shame. They were handfasted after all. A pregnancy would not prove a disaster, just a momentary set-back. She wouldn’t be able to ride long as soon as her father learned, he would put a stop to that. No doubt, she would have to stop training with the others as well.

It was the idea of raising a child without a father that gave her the most pain. She was extremely fortunate to find a worthy husband. Most of the women of the O’Malley clan would never be as fortunate. They were destined to spend out their days alone or together on the Isle of Women.

Kyra knew that fate smiled on her once and the likelihood of it smiling on her again was small. She knew it. Her mother knew it, but wouldn’t say it, and her father gave himself away every time he looked at her. Pity was not what she wanted from her family; and she had had enough of that. She was eager to move on with her life, what was left of it. Aidan’s death was the very reason she asked to begin working as a messenger between clans. The traveling got her out of the territory and her mind on other things.

An unexpected child would change her life forever; and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet. How would she break the news to her father or Murchadh? It would only open fresh wounds and heartache anew to her family.

“Kyra, ye should go see Vynae. I’m worried. Ye know that Darina was poisoned not long ago and almost did no’ recover. Murchadh has questioned all of the servants and the kitchen staff; no one seems to have heard or seen anything. I think we should treat this as a threat. Yer father will agree with me, I’m sure,” she said.

“I will agree with what?” asked Ruarc from the door.

Kyra bent over the chamberpot and emptied what was left in her stomach, before collapsing onto the bed. Her face was pale and a chilling sweat broke across her forehead. A sudden chill overtook her and she began to shake.

“By the gods, has she been poisoned?” asked Ruarc walking briskly to his daughter’s bedside.

“Nay,” Kyra replied, waiving him off. “I don’t think I’ve been poisoned. I fear I may have swallowed some river water, and it does no’ agree with me constitution.”

“I will have that insolent bastard’s head!” shouted Ruarc, throwing his hands up in the air. “I will speak to Patrick about this — I will. I canna believe he has treated a member of our clan like this. Atilde, ye should have seen the sight at the river. Nay — I take that back; I wouldna wish for you to see it; ‘twas dishonorable, to say the least.”

“What happened?” gasped Atilde.

Kyra waived her father off and struggled to speak. “Nothing that needs to be rehashed now. I am fine, they did no’ hurt me.”

“Kyra, you are not fine luv,” exclaimed her mother, bringing the chamberpot to Kyra’s side table. “Ye have been retching now for quite some time. All the color is gone from ye face and ye look gravely ill.”

“I’m fetching Vynae and don’t think to fight me on this, Kyra,” Ruarc demanded as he strode out of her chamber and down the stairs.

***

Odetta Burke slammed her fist down on the table so hard, the rafters shook. Easal had never seen his new wife so angry in all his days, so much so that he feared for his own life. He had witnessed her fits of rage before, but nothing that equaled this. Even after she stabbed her own brother straight through the heart, he hadn’t feared her, until now.

“I told you to make sure that no-account priest fulfilled my plan! That’s all I asked of you!” she yelled across the room to Naelyn, her cleric. “How hard is it to simply do what you’re told? You didn’t watch him closely enough to make sure he actually drained all the blood from that boy.”

“Me lady,” interrupted Naelyn, “I am so very…”

“Save it!” Odetta shot back. “I’ve had enough of ye. Be gone. Get out of me sight; I’ve no use for ye any longer. Why don’t ye go see to that useless sister of yers again, on the Isle of Women? See if you can bring me back some information, since you are no’ capable of performing simple tasks here in ceremony.”

Naelyn rose from her perch at the end of the table and turned to leave, head hanging low, aghast at the mood change in Odetta. Naelyn had been with Odetta for a long time. She was at the beginning, when Odetta overthrew the monastery. An ascetic student of the nuns, she managed to garner Odetta’s attention when she willingly, and without question, followed her orders during the skirmish. For that, Odetta spared her life and gained a helper.

Easal whispered frantically into Odetta’s ear and rose to grab Naelyn by the arm. “Nay, lassie, ye come with me,” he spurted and steered them towards the front door.

“I just may have use of ye after all,” Odetta screamed towards her as the door closed behind them.

“Where are ye taking me, Easal?” asked Naelyn nervously.

“To the dungeons where ye belong, and where ye should have been many years ago,” he replied. “Ye’ve been nothing but trouble since the day I first laid my eyes on ye. Odetta has no need of ye any longer. Ye are only in the way. She has me now, and I am all she needs.”

“The dungeons?” she cried in response. “What good can come of me imprisonment? I have been a loyal servant to Odetta. What reason is there to punish me?”

“What reason?” he retorted. “Ye are sloppy and untrustworthy, Naelyn,” he said as he half-pushed, half-pulled her towards the rear entry of the monastery and towards the stairs leading down to the caverns below. “Ye heard Odetta, ‘tis yer fault the boy was no’ properly drained. Me thinks ye have a soft spot somewhere which prevents ye from fulfilling yer duties to Odetta. Ye haven’t the stomach for what is to come. Ye are best served down here, watching over the new sacrifice. Mayhap when the Samhain service is over, Odetta may see fit to release ye,” he chuckled. “But — I wouldn’t count on it.”

Easal opened the hidden door that led to the caverns beneath the monastery. The stench nearly choked her. It was as if a hundred corpses had been discarded and left to rot there. They navigated the stairs slowly and were met by Rufus on the way down.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he asked Easal. “Another prisoner?” he asked.

“Aye, Odetta has had her fill of Naelyn. She is to be chained to the walls with the others and see that she is situated next to the sacrifice. I need her to keep him calm.”

“Aye, Easal. I’ll see it done,” he replied.

Burke Castle

“
When will me mathair return?” asked eleven-year-old Orla Burke.

“I told you that Odetta will be late this eve, lass. She is preparing for the great service tonight. It is Samhain, ye ken?” responded Reni, her maidservant. “She will return just before the new day to dance with ye between the fires,” she added. “Have ye finished yer mask, luv?”

Orla paced back and forth before the hearth in her chamber on the top floor of the Burke castle. “I am
so
bored!” she exclaimed. “I’ve made four different masks and I won’t make another until I see me mam,” she screeched, stomping her booted right foot for emphasis.

“Orla, I’ve been yer nurse since ye were a wee babe brought to me with the colic. I’ll not be swayed by yer tantrums, one bit…not one bit…ye ken?” Reni returned to her sewing, determined not to let the spoiled child get to her.

Orla blew out a tortured breath and plopped down on the settee lounger beside the fire. “Tell me again, why I can no’ attend the service at the monastery,” she begged.

“Ye know verra well child that the service is not something for a lass of yer age. Ye’ve only a few more summers and ye will be right there, attending beside yer mam.”

Orla knew Reni was right. She had begged Odetta and her Uncle Cynbel for years to attend the Samhain celebration. She was tired of feasting and playing with the children, she was ready to take part like an adult. She was after all, the daughter of the Lady of the Castle; and as such, she deserved all the benefit that such a position held.

“Tell me again about me fathair, Reni. I want to hear about me fathair.”

“That is a matter to discuss with Odetta, lass. I haven’t the whole of the story, and I won’t go repeating things I don’t know about.”

Orla rolled her eyes at Reni and stomped towards the window. “’Tis getting dark outside Reni, the sun is descending. Can I
please
go find Shanleigh? We are to take our baskets and go through the village together to gather the offerings. She is waiting on me.”

“Orla, child, if you don’t sit down for a bit, I’ll make sure ye have no part in Samhain this eve. Ye ken?” Reni retorted.
If ye hadn’t been brought to Odetta by the gods themselves, I would surely have suffocated ye myself.
A wicked grin crossed Reni’s face and she laughed out loud; unable to contain her amusement at the story Odetta had been telling for years about the sudden appearance of a babe for Odetta.

Not that she believed it. Not that anyone for that matter believed it. Odetta was not a woman one questioned. Cynbel didn’t seem to mind the new addition to the castle, somehow hoping against hope that the babe would distract Odetta. Orla had done that. Odetta was so engaged with the new babe, it almost appeared she forgot about her sister running off with Cordal McTierney.

***

Mavis floated on her back for what seemed hours. She was frozen nearly to the bone and had lost all feeling in her toes and fingers. Unable to swim against the waves any longer, she turned over and lay atop the water. It was nearly completely dark, and save for the music and lights that streamed from the Island of Women, she would be lost.

She thought back to a time when her life had been simpler. She fell in love with the middle McTierney son, Cordal, and they were betrothed. Their fathers approved the union and gave their blessings. It should have been easy. At least that was how it was supposed to be until her older sister Odetta set her sights on Cordal.

Odetta made her case, to anyone who would listen. She was the eldest Burke daughter and should be married first. Her father didn’t have the fortitude to fight the rebellious and troublesome Odetta. After their mother died, he washed his hands of her and basically ignored her. It wasn’t until Raelyn, which was Mavis’ given name, and Cordal, escaped together that the Burke Lord truly came to grips with the magnitude of Odetta’s sickness.

Odetta sent a garrison of men to find them. It wasn’t hard. They had returned to McTierney territory to live with his family. After many months, Easal brought Mavis and Cordal back to Odetta’s monastery and held them captive in an upper chamber until the caverns were dug beneath the building and the dungeon was complete.

No one knew that Odetta succeeded in capturing them. Not even the Burke Lord — he died and Cynbel took power. Mavis gave birth to a baby girl in that wretched underground cave, and the child was taken from her. Unable to stomach the cries of Mavis for her child, Odetta sent Rufus to take her to the slave traders. As far as Odetta knew, Mavis was dead, and good riddance.

The sound of splashing nearby startled Mavis out of her daydream. She turned from her back and began to paddle upright in the water, frantic that she was not alone. Something swam by her to the right and circled in front. There was movement under her feet and then in front of her. Terror gripped her lungs and squeezed tightly. She closed her eyes, afraid to see what may be in front of her, behind her, and to the side of her.

Now there was more than one of them. A chorus of splashing resounded in her ears. They swarmed her and she was surrounded on all sides. Four. There had to be four of them, because they were everywhere, all at once, and all around her.
Why did this have to happen now?
She was almost to the island, it wasn’t that far away. To be attacked by sharks after spending most of the day on the open sea seemed almost unfair.

She made the sign of the cross and said a silent prayer; asking God to spare her life, or at least minimize the pain. She had no desire to be dinner for a school of sharks. Reaching her hands out into the darkness, she felt around her for anything recognizable. She heard them moving in the water; dipping up and back down again and swimming around her feet and legs.

She saw the shoreline directly in front of her.
If I can just swim fast enough, mayhap they will leave me be.
They didn’t seem to be as big as sharks, but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. In haste she tore off her wet shift which was holding her down, and dove just under the top of the water — hoping to confuse them. She resurfaced and gasped for air, swung her arms high above her head and made long kicking strides towards the lights on the shore.

She could just make out the outline of the small pier and could see the ferry boat was gone. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll be safe,” she whispered.

Then she heard it. A high-pitched chattering sound that echoed above the waves; it was quickly answered by more of the same. They were coming her way! In a manner of seconds she felt them underneath her, swimming beneath the waves in synchronicity to her strokes. A loud cry beside her alerted her that they were closer than she originally thought. Her side was cramping and she wasn’t sure she could go on.

Mavis broke down. Unable to contain her fear and anger any longer, she stopped to tread water and began screaming at the top of her lungs. “Leave me be! Stop it! Go Away!”

The splashing subsided and everything grew silent. All that could be heard was the gentle cresting of the waves. She could almost touch bottom and knew she was very close to the shore. She turned to the left, then the right. Splashing and twisting, she flailed about searching for her stalkers.

When calm finally overtook her; Mavis continued her swim towards the island. It wasn’t long before her feet touched bottom and she stood still for a moment, allowing her body and spirit a rest.
Had I dreamed that?

The sounds of music and feasting grew louder and she could see the light of the bonfires coming from the center of the island. The realization that she was completely bare hit her all at once.
At least I’m alive.

There it was again. That high-pitched chatter. It was getting closer. She could feel their presence and wondered if she could outrun them to the sand.
It couldn’t be sharks, they wouldn’t come this close to the land.

Determined to survive, Mavis began paddling as fast as she could through the chest-deep water. Spreading her arms as wide as they would go to maintain balance, she sliced through the waves with all the strength she could muster. There was something at her back, getting closer, and another inching up beside her.

The water was to her waist now, which only made getting through it more difficult. The waves were too tall to jump and too big to run through. She half-swam, half-ran through the waves now; nearly out of breath and thoroughly exhausted. Her legs became tangled with something at her feet and she stumbled forward — pounding harshly into a crashing wave.

She picked herself back up and stumbled over something in front of her; catapulting under a crashing cascade of water. Her hands searched for anything she could catch hold of to stabilize herself. She faltered under the water and time stood still. As if in slow motion, she pictured herself getting up and moving forward but felt paralyzed with fear.

Her right hand grasped something she couldn’t make out.
It feels like…wet dog! Oh dear God, what on earth is this?
Unable to maintain her bravery any longer, she began to wail and shake violently. Instinctively, she stood upright and still, as her right hand clasped shut against the wet furry creature—as if challenging the thing to make the next move.

She refused to open her eyes. Overstimulated by the feel of the creature in her grasp, her senses wreaked havoc on her nerves. “
I will not be afraid, I will not be afraid,”
she repeated to herself and then again out loud.

They were all coming for her now. First, there was one to her left. Then there was another at her back, and then one more in front of her. She tightened her eyes once more, afraid to see what surrounded her. Before she knew what had happened, she was doused with a large amount of water, spat right into her face by one of them. The chattering began again and then more splashing.

She let go of the creature with her right hand and felt the water to her left. Just a few feet beside her was another with the same type fur.
Like a wet dog. Thick course hair and a long backbone. I have to see this before I die.

Hesitantly, she cracked her eyes open, as if them not knowing if she was looking would somehow save her. She peered straight into the biggest set of deep-brown eyes she had ever seen, and the longest whiskers imaginable. It was looking at her as if
she
was daft. It began to chatter again and the others joined in.

Seals
!
They are seals!

There surrounding her, were four gray seals; they had no doubt been toying with her for hours. She breathed a long-held sigh of relief and relaxed her stance. The one to her right came up beside her and ran its head under her hand as if asking to be stroked. The others started splashing and chattering again and made for the shoreline. She grabbed ahold of the one to her right, and they swam together for a brief moment before she grasped it about the shoulders and let it guide her swiftly to the shore.