Celtic Storms (11 page)

O’Malley Lands

Damn, my backside still aches. I shall never get used to this new saddle
. Kyra’s horse cleared the last of the small bridges that encased the moats outside the castle walls and made her way around the winding path up towards the clearing. The rider in the distance grew closer and she could clearly see the outline of Riann sitting atop the rider’s left shoulder.

Father. Thank the gods.

“Father!” she yelled as she waived her O’Malley clan flag which sat atop her spear. “Welcome home.”

Riann left her perch on Ruarc’s shoulder and took back to the skies, flying so high above head that it appeared she topped the setting sun, before turning and plunging to earth at break neck speed. When Riann swooped back up, it appeared she had a rabbit or small rodent in her claws
. All in day’s work, my love.

Ruarc’s steed grew restless and increased his pace towards the grounds meeting Kyra before she had guessed he would.

“So father, how was the journey?” she asked.

“Fine indeed,” he replied. “Except for the few days we were on MacCahan land, it stormed the entire time we were there – even after you left. They are in dire need of our assistance in rebuilding much of their village.”

“I’ve never seen the likes of it,” replied Kyra. “Never - such weather indeed. It has been most pleasant here, it grows a little colder by the day, but otherwise, it has been smooth and sunny. Should make for a fine wedding I believe.”

“Aye – a wedding,” said Ruarc. “Won’t this be a most interesting year, Kyra?”

“A bit of advice father - if you will?”

“Go ahead then Kyra, what have you to say?”

“You would do well to head straight to the inn, else Darina realize it’s you and keep you up all night with her interrogations.”

A deep chuckle escaped Ruarc’s throat and threatened to spill humorous tears behind his gray eyes. “Kyra - how you do make me laugh.”

“I’ve no need to avoid Darina; I have nothing to offer her by way of information anyhow.”

“Alright – but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you father.”

***

Patrick paced before the fire fully aware of the faces studying his and how the implications of his dreams might play out. Speaking slowly, he managed to finish his tale quicker than he thought and sat down to enjoy his ale.

“Well – I see nothing out of the ordinary about that. ‘Tis no omen, Carbry”, directed Deasum. “Just a dream, it could have been the rabbit stew,” he chuckled.

“I doubt th-that,” replied Patrick, clearly not amused.

“Why is that?” asked Carbry.

“Because of the strange lass,” interrupted Braeden. “Tell them about the strange lass, Patrick, tell them. He’s seen her in his dreams before.”

Mavis spoke, “Patrick is there something more you haven’t told us?”

“No-not really.”

“Not really?” asked Deasum.

“Go ahead, Patrick, tell them,” said Braeden.

“Well I am s-su-sure my dream means nothing.”

“And just how are you sure, Patrick?” asked Carbry.

“Because w-wh-what I saw could not be real. That is to s-s-say, it would not be t-tru-true, it would be but a d-de-delusion.”

“How is that you say?” inquired Deasum.

“Because of the strange lass in the dream,” said Braeden.

“How is the lass strange?” asked Mavis. “What does she look like?”

“She looks l-like a n-nor-normal lass. She has long red hair, pretty gr-green eyes - a bonnie l-lass indeed.”

“Then if she looks normal what is strange about her?” demanded Deasum.

“’Tis what she wore,” said Braeden matter-of-factly.

“What she wore?” demanded Carbry as he rose to face Patrick on the other side of the camp fire. “What did she wear Patrick? Tell us!”

“She wore truis”.

Burke Lands – Odetta’s Monastery

“Has he finally sobered yet?” asked Odetta to Easal.

“Enough I believe - but it took a lot of doing and most of the healer’s kudzu vine to get him there.”

Odetta stood beside Easal looking over the soaking wet body of Father MacArtrey that lay in a crumpled manner over the bench just outside the monastery garden.

“And what of this?” she inquired. Easal shrugged his shoulders, “He stank too much, and the healer refused us help lest we bathe him.”

“And his clothes? I realize it’s been raining, but he is soaked through and his boots as well.”

“They stank as well my lady.”

Odetta let out a cackling laugh that Easal was sure would wake the devil.

“What shall I do with him?”

“Wake him and take him to the altar. He will perform the rites tonight. Call for Naelyn and have her bring the others as well.

The sun had almost completely set and the only light to be seen came from the twin torches which were perched on either side of the altar hearth in the monastery. Odetta had the benches brought in and closed the tapestries over the windows so that the rain would not interfere with their task.

“Set to lighting the candles,” she instructed several young girls who sat in the back of the sanctum. “And move that chest to just below the window, stoke the fire - and Naelyn,” she interjected, “Don’t forget the cistern and holy water.”

“Yes, my lady,” replied Naelyn. “Shall you have need of the sacred dagger?”

“Aye, yes indeed. Bring the dagger of Teutates; it is necessary for the ceremony. Bring someone to wipe his sniveling face,” shouted Odetta as she motioned towards the young boy still tied to the altar pedestal.

The chamber quickly became full, bustling with activity in preparation for the great service. Tonight they would give thanks to Teutates, their god of war, fertility and wealth for the abundance they had been blessed with over the prior year; and they would pray – for war.

***

“Hold still now! I’ve only a few more stitches and we will be done and you can get back to your precious bird Darina,” grunted Darina’s younger sister Darcy. “I’m almost done, and it looks magnificent if I do say so myself.”

“I would have to agree,” quipped Kyra from the other side of the chamber. “Her bird is precious to her.” Kyra laughed clearly attempting to rile Darina’s temper.

“She’s not a bird you nitwits, she is a Peregrine Falcon and she has more royalty in her lineage than all of us put together. “She is a fine falcon, fit for a prince.”

“But - stuck with a shrew! Aye Darcy?” Kyra and Darcy burst into contagious laughter that seemed lost on Darina.

“I realize the both of you are having fun at my expense, but neither of you seem to understand the true gravity of my situation.”

“Your situation, my dear sister?” inquired Darcy.

“Yes, her situation,” interjected Kyra. “Let me see if I can explain it.”

“Oh please do so, by all means Kyra,” retorted Darina as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, if I am to understand correctly; Darina is to be married in two evenings. Patrick MacCahan is his name. He is one of the handsomest men in all of Ireland. He comes from a well-respected family, he is tall, strong, fit and healthy, trained as a warrior, and he has agreed to leave his home to make this union with a woman he has never met, to protect a clan he does not know, and to establish a shipping enterprise with the territories in Northern Ireland to further aid the prosperity we have so richly been blessed with here in O’Malley territory. Does that about sum it up, Darina?”

“You have the right of it, Kyra. It just sounds differently when you put it that way.”

“Oh wait, I forgot the best part.”

“Which is that?” asked Darcy.

“Darina actually gets to be married - which is more than I can say for either of us. There are no men to be had here, and I don’t see there being any other noble characters out there just waiting to leave their homes to join with us. All we will have to look forward to, Darcy, is the Bacchanal festivals.”

“Bring in the looking glass Odhran, Darina must see this,” yelled Darcy.

“I’ll do it,” said Ruarc gruffly from the threshold of her chamber door. “You look divine Darina, a picture of a lady, just like your dear mother.”

“I’m so sorry you couldn’t wear mother’s dress Darina, you are simply too tall, you have a good four inches on her. But I made the best replica I could.”

“Here – turn and see,” directed Kyra.

Instantly, Darina was mesmerized by the image in the looking glass. She did indeed favor her mother and the dress was near to exact as her mother’s – save a few custom details that Darcy had added.

The ivory dress was covered with golden stitching throughout, it tightly hugged her form and draped to the floor, flowing as if it were a river. The long sleeves which ended right at the curve of her wrist gave it an ethereal feel. The sharp pointed bodice was overlaid with pearl on the lace edging and joined the skirt which hung ankle length. The O’Malley red and blue plaid was fastened about her waist and hung in ripples about her hips. Her younger sister had woven gold, silver and sapphire colored cross stitch patterns around the hem which was longer in the back to create a train. A red dragon adorned each sleeve – the symbol of the O’Malley Clan. It had a semi overcoat of luscious see through red and blue silk which tied at her back after draping across her shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” noted Darcy. “Simply perfect.”

“I love it,” replied Darina.

“It seems to be missing something,” offered Ruarc scratching his beard in contemplation.

“But what?” questioned Kyra.

“Aye – I know what it is.” Ruarc stepped forward and handed Darina a small velvet pouch.

“What is this?” she questioned.

“It is a gift from your betrothed. He bade me to present it to you when I arrived.”

Darina held the pouch in awe at its beauty, hesitant to open it for fear of breaking something.

“Go ahead Darina, see what it is,” implored Darcy.

Darina sat at the edge of her bed and pondered the contents of the velvet pouch. Carefully she untied the package and peeked inside.

“It is beautiful,” she said.

“Well – let me see it,” cried Kyra. “Come on now, hand it over. We haven’t got all day.”

Darina rose from the bed and held out the jeweled hair comb embedded with sapphires and rubies, with its flowing ribbons for all to see.

“Why it’s a perfect match,” announced Darcy. “Wherever did he find something of this value?”

“He must have spent a fortune on that,” added Kyra.

“Nay,” said Ruarc. “It’s of more value than you know.”

“What do you mean,” asked Darina.

“It was his mother’s comb; she wore it on her wedding day, a gift from her father.”

Darina paced the room, a troubled look on her face.
His mother’s? I have no idea who this man is, let alone his mother. What fate awaits me?

“My - aren’t you a picture, dear sister?” asked Dervilla from the door.

“A picture of what, that is the question, isn’t it cousin?” quipped Kyra under her breath.

“Now, now girls let’s be civil,” said Ruarc. “Darina has a destiny to fulfill in a few short days’ time and she seems troubled.”

“Darina – what troubles you lass?”

“I’m not sure, I have a feeling something is not quite right. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m sure; something is amiss.”

“Darina, you denied your gifts years ago. Why pretend now?” asked Dervilla.

“It is not a pretense Dervilla; I can feel it – evil in our midst.”

“Ruarc, what manner of man is Patrick MacCahan?” asked Darina.

“A fine man Darina, you needn’t worry, he is the most noble of gentleman.”

“And – when will they arrive?”

“By tomorrow eve, I suspect. You shall be joined in two night’s time.”

“I see. Leave me. All of you.”

“I must remove the dress sister,” said Darcy. “I will help you get undressed and then I will leave.”

“Shall I send to the kitchens for your supper?” asked Kyra.

“Nay – I am not feeling hungry. I do feel that I may …”

Oh no. I do not wish to faint, my stomach, my head. I am so dizzy.
Darina clutched her stomach and bent over sure she would vomit right there.

“Oh - no you don’t,” said Darcy as she grabbed the chamber pot and placed it under Darina. “In the pot my dear - and don’t you dare get it on my dress.”

“Your dress?” inquired Darina.“I know what you mean,” said Darina now on her knees clutching the side of the bed.

“It’s just wedding jitters Darina, nothing more” chuckled Ruarc. “You’ll be fine; most brides get a bit anxious before they are joined. In a few days’ time, you will be right as rain.”

“I am not so confident of that,” said Dervila. “Look at her she - is four shades green.”

“Leave me!” Darina commanded.

“Nay!” exclaimed Minea as she entered the chamber. “She is not having jitters, she is sick, looks to me she has been poisoned.”

“Poison?” asked Ruarc.

“Yes, Poison.”

“Now – send for Atilde, I have need of her healing services” said Minea.

“Nay. I will get Lucian, he will fix this,” said Dervilla as she tore down the stairs and through the great hall.

Burke Lands – Odetta’s Monastery

The chanting subsided as the sound of rain hitting the roof lulled the group into silence. Odetta unchained the boy and presented him to the group.

“Our sacrifice!” Odetta shouted as a large cloud of black smoke erupted from the hearth. “Teutates is most pleased.”

Odetta motioned for Father MacArtrey and Easal to join her near the altar. Naelyn brought a carafe of holy water forward and motioned for the priest to fill each follower’s glass with a portion of it.

“Odetta, you know I cannot be a part of this witchcraft,” he said. “It is forbidden, I risk my very soul.”

“I’ve no use for your soul, Father – and you will do as you are told, else you become the sacrifice.”

The boy shouted, “No,” through his tears and tugged vehemently at the ropes now held by Easal - to no avail. “Please let me go, my father will pay handsomely for my ransom. I assure you.”