Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (39 page)

11.
  
DARK WHISPERING

Little over a fortnight had passed since the fall equinox celebrations and Samhain was steadily approac
hing, marking the end of the harvest season.
Warriors from both Dún Fiáin and Ráth Faolchú had arrived, giving the villagers a small sense of security in a time when
misshapen Fomorii had come to linger along the borders of Tara.

Ainmire grew
distant
after receiving word that peace between the High Chieftains and sons of Míl was growing increasingly unstable, keeping mostly to himself in the main cottage or standing to look at the Stone of Destiny.
Meara
, unable to wash away a sense of unease
with Fomorii lurking about,
increase
d
the rounds of her men along Tara’s borders.

As dreams of Ainmire’s death returned, becoming more and more vivid, Shiovra found she was no longer able to shake the foreboding feeling
that filled
her
.
She
feared
that no matter what was done Ainmi
re’s death would still come to pass.

With the fading light of day, Shiovra came to stand before the Stone of Destiny
. Reaching a hand up,
Shiovra
placed her fingers against the cool
granite
stone and closed her eyes. She could feel a light pulse within the stone.

Opening her eyes, she
studied the contrast of the rough gray stone against the smooth, pale skin of her hand.
“Even you whisper of ill tidings,” Shiovra murmured to the stone. “I fear that it will not be long before the cries of the bean sidhe fill the air.”

“
Such grave tidings.”

Shiovra
turned
to face who had spoken.

A young woman with
long raven hair
that
fell in a long braid over her shoulder and shinned with hints of red
stood smiling at her
. A spiral curled by her right eye
, matching the priestess’
. She wore a simple, dull yellow shift over a longer cream colored one.
Giving Shiovra a small bow, she said,
“It is a pleasure to finally meet
you, High Priestess Shiovra.”

Shiovra
looked at her
question. She did not remember seeing her in the village since her arrival from Rúnda, but with so many faces it was possible they had not met yet.

“I am Eithne,” t
he
woman
said, introducing herself.

Shiovra
nodded, realizing. “Ahh,” she murmured. “Sister to Naal and
daughter of Earnán and Neasa. Eithne t
he wandering priestess.”

Eithne smiled, nodding. She turned her attention to the Stone of Des
tiny. “I have felt it as well, the unease within the stone
,” Eithne continued. “
Fomorii tread ground upon Éire’s shores.
Ailill gathers Milidh huntsmen into his ranks
. Dark clouds are forming. A
storm
is brewing.”

Shiovra’s hand slipped from the stone. “And we shall face that storm head on,” replied Shiovra. “When I was a child, Réalta came to my mother, seeking to train me. She feared the death of Ith would bring grave consequences to Éire and her fears were justified.
That night a message was sent to the High Chieftains: one laden with bloodshed.” Pausing, Shiovra glanced at the Stone of Destiny. “Though peace was achieved between the High Chieftains and the Milidh, it weakens
day by day.
Be it Ailill or the Milidh, Tara will face attack. It is but a matter of time.
”

“What will you have me do?” questioned Eithne.

“Help anyone who needs it. Heal them, protect them, warn them,” she told her.
“And always be prepared.”

The woman nodded. “Aye.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Gráinne
straddled hips
of a man with lime washed hair and swarthy skin
.
“
I need you to do me a favor,” she breathed heavily, a wicked smile twisting her lips as she rocked back and forth
. “
A worthy challenge for a man such as yourself.”
It had not been her desire to sway Deasún to do their bidding, but Gráinne could not deny her enjoyment in taking the man to her bed.

“
And what would that be?”
asked
Deasún as he let his hand roam across Gráinne’s body
.

Leaning down, she brought her mouth to his ear. “Ainmire’s death,” she whispered seductively before catching his earlobe between her teeth and nipping it lightly.

Deasún’s
hands glided across her bare ski
n, moving from her
hips
to her breasts
. “And what do I get in return?” he questioned
with a malicious grin
.

A cry of desire tore from her throat
at his touch against her sensitive skin
.
“
Rank
,” she purred, quickening her pace. “
Wealth
.”
Wrapping her hands around his wrists, Gráinne pinned
them
down by his head. “Power.”

Deasún
thrust his hips beneath her, meeting her pace with equal ferocity. “All that for one man?” he growled
with a grin
.

Gráinne cried out once more, her nails digging into the man’s wrists. “Not any man,” she panted, letting her pleasure consume her.
The man was indeed one she would invite back into her bed.
“Kin to the High Chieftains themselves. With his death, the strength of Tara will be weakened.”
She felt his body tense beneath hers and she pressed harder against him.

“What of the High Priestess of Tara?”
Deasún asked with a
grunt
as he gave hi
s hips one final violent thrust.

“She is Ailill’s,” replied Gráinne throwing her head back as the pulsing sensati
ons of release washed over her, filling her to the brim until she found her own release.
“And Tara is
mine
.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“
I fear
Gráinne
has
made her first move,” Shiovra said, breaking the silence that had settled
heavily over them
.
Looking up, her eyes drifted over the faces of her companions
as they stood gathered in her tiny cottage, away from the ears of Ainmire.
“When she plans to strike, I am unsure, but
I am certain
that it was not Tara in flames.
Gráinne is no fool. She will not attack Tara directly, not right away.
She will have Ainmire lured from the village
.”

“Then we must scout the villages
closest to Tara
,” suggested Meara. “If we know where Gráinne
hides now, we can narrow down which village the attack may take place.”

“She has most likely gone to Caillte’s side in Dún Scáth
to the south
,” Ceallach informed
bluntly.

Eiladyr looked at
the Fomorii man in question
. “Caillte?”

Daire learned over to Eiladyr and told him in a low voice, “Caillte is father’s elder brother and Ailill’s warlord. He
commands some of Ailill’s most dangerous huntsmen
.”

“Our main objective currently is to make sure Ainmire does not leave Tara,” Earnán added. “Outside the safety of the village
walls
we would not be able to protect him as well.
Gráinne
most likely
seeks to
cripple our strength with Ainmire’s death and th
en lie in wait until our defenses slip
further and
further. That is when she will strike, when we are at our weakest.
”

“We should
increase
the warriors around Ainmire…” began Naal.

Ceallach shook his head.
“
No, that will only
draw
unwanted attention,” he said firmly
. “
We need to keep to the shadows, to deter Ainmire
from leaving the village without alerting
him
of the threat.
If he discovers Gráinne’s plot, there would be no stopping him from going straight for her. It would be best to remain discreet.”

Meara nodded.
“I
shall
have my men on constant watch,”
she offered.
“Our patrols will be increased tenfold in the southern borders.”

“Keep a watchful eye out. With those Fomorii lingering about, they might possibly play a part in Gráinne’s attack,” urged Earnán. “Like Méav, Gráinne is a highly cunning and
manipulative woman.”

“Aye,” replied Meara.

“We should also keep the villagers from venturing too close to Tara’s
boundaries
,” added Shiovra. “Lie if we must, but keep them within the grounds.
We do not need more innocent lives lost.
”

“
It would also be best if we all keep to the main cottage,” suggested Odhrán. “The closer we all are to Ainmire, the better.”

Shiovra
nodded without protest
. “So mote it be.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“It is done.”

Caillte turned to face Gráinne, a smile crossing his lips. “So Deasún has agreed to our plans?” he asked, eyes skimming over the woman’s disheveled though satisfied appearance.

“Aye, very much so,” purred the woman as she sauntered towards him. “He
has
agreed wholeheartedly to do our bidding.”

The Fomorii man looked down as she brought two fingers to his chest, walking them up to his collar bone.

“He will make his move at night,” she continued, dropping her hand and moving to sit at the table. “There is a small village
very
close to Tara to the south. That is where Deasún will
lie in
wait for Ainmire to come to him.”

“How does he plan to lure Ainmire away?” questioned Caillte
, moving to sit across from her
.

“
He will not do anything of the sort, I will w
ith a memory.”

He raised a brow in question.

“I may not hold as much power as my dear sister and mother,” continued Gráinne, “but I do have tricks of my own.”
A smile twisted the corners of her lips.

Caillte grabbed a cup and pitcher from the end of the table and poured some mead. “Enlighten me.”

She leaned across the table. “Once the misshapen ones have played their part, the village will be consumed by fog. Your brother will not be able to disperse it alone,” Gráinne explained. “And it will be very difficult to keep good watch on anything or
anyone
. And if, by chance, Ainmire should see his late wife, who is to say that he will not follow her?” The woman laughed lightly. “His death is so close I can taste it.”

Sitting the pitched down, Caillte took a long swig from his cup. “And what shall you do once he is dead?” he asked,
looking at her over the rim of his cup.

Gráinne straightened and offered him a seductive smile. “I believe I shall return home to Tréigthe for a bit,” she replied. “I do owe my husband and son a visit. Besides, Tara must be weakened more before I can lay claim to it.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Shiovra
lay in bed, looking up at the dark thatch roof looming above.
The main cottage was quiet save for the crackle from the hearth fire and soft snore of Eiladyr as he slept sounding a few feet away in his bed. Though she was weary,
Shiovra
feared the blood filled dreams that sleep would bring. With each passing day, the visions had increased and the priestess knew the time for his death drew near.

Rolling onto her side, she looked at the wicker-wor
k
screen
dividing her bed form another and sighed. There was a slight rustling
from behind the cloth by her feet
and light suddenly fell across her. Propping up on her elbow, she look
ed
down the length of the bed to see Odhrán standing with the curtain pulled aside
wearing naught but his breeches
.