The Undivided (26 page)

‘Can you describe him?’ Sorcha asked.

‘Yeah … he looked like a
Leipreachán
.’

‘How did you know it was a
Leipreachán
? Have you ever seen one?’ Ciarán asked, glancing over his shoulder at Ren. Brógán had disappeared around the side of the hut. There was no other sound but for the soft rustle of a faint breeze in the trees.

‘Friend of mine had a toy one,’ Ren told them. ‘He looked just like —’

‘There’s nothing there,’ Brógán announced, appearing from the other side of the hut. ‘If it was a
Leipreachán
,’ the Druid added, walking toward them, ‘he would have vanished the moment he realised Rónán spotted him.’

Sorcha and Ciarán relaxed a little and turned to each other.

‘What do you think,
an Bhantiarna
?’ Ciarán asked Sorcha, calling her ‘my lady’. ‘Can we risk it?’

Sorcha shook her head. ‘Breaga’s a known haunt for
Leipreachán
. In fact, I can’t think of a worse place to use as a safe haven, if you’re trying to avoid any of the lesser
sídhe
. Those wretched weremen should have proven that last night.’

Ciarán nodded, apparently in agreement with the warrior, and then he turned to Ren. ‘You said the
sídhe
looked like something you knew. What was it?’

‘You’re gonna think I’m crazy.’

‘If he says that one more time,’ Sorcha complained, ‘I’ll run him through myself.’

Ren took a step back, a little alarmed by Sorcha’s vehemence.

‘I have a friend,’ he explained. ‘Back in my reality. Her name is Trása and she has this creepy
Leipreachán
doll called Plunkett …’ His voice trailed off as he noticed their incredulous expressions. ‘Now what?’

‘Trása?’ Ciarán asked in a strangled voice. ‘You have a friend named Trása?’

He nodded. ‘So?’

‘Describe her,’ Sorcha ordered.

‘Um … about yay-high, pretty, really long blonde hair.’

‘How long have you known her, Rónán?’ Brógán asked, looking positively nauseous.

‘A few days.’ He studied the three of them. ‘Do you guys know her, or something? You’re all staring at me like I’ve started spewing pea soup and I’m about to do a three-sixty with my head.’

None of them understood what he was talking about and they didn’t seem interested. Sorcha turned to Ciarán. ‘Darragh needs to know this. And we need to move Rónán.’

‘The little
sídhe
bastard is probably reporting to Marcroy as we speak.’ Ciarán nodded in agreement and then turned to Brógán. ‘Why didn’t you tell us about this?’

‘I didn’t know, Ciarán,’ he said, clearly worried about something. ‘I swear, we saw no sign of any
sídhe
in the other realm. They’re not supposed to be able to survive there.’

‘Fullbloods couldn’t,’ Sorcha agreed. ‘But Trása’s a mongrel. And there might be enough magic left in the other realm to sustain a
Leipreachán
.’

‘Trása’s a
Faerie
?’ Ren asked.

Ciarán turned on Ren angrily, towering over him. ‘Trása Ni’Amergin is the mongrel get of the
leanan sídhe,
Elimyer and the bard, Amergin, the worst traitor the Druids have ever spawned. If you have befriended her,
Leath tiarna
, and if you should wish to keep that friendship over allegiance to your own kind, then it would be quicker and easier if I give you my sword so you may fall on it now, and save us the trouble of executing you for treason.’

Darragh glanced around at the gathered Druids, the rest of whom were still masked. He caught sight of Marcroy out of the corner of his eye, standing to the left of the dais where Farawyl had led the ceremony thus far, next to Álmhath and Torcán. Marcroy seemed impressed that Darragh was uncowed. He wondered if the
Tuatha
envoy thought him brave, or too naïve to be intimidated.

He fixed his gaze on the high priestess. ‘I have been busy,
a Mháistreás
.’

It wasn’t the response Farawyl was expecting. She frowned. ‘You do not honour your position,
Leath tiarna
, by being glib.’

‘I speak the truth, my lady, nothing more. Why have you convened the Council of Druids?’

Farawyl hesitated. She was probably composing a verse in her head, so the Council would be recorded for posterity. As high priestess, it was her duty to maintain the oral record of Druid history, just as it was Colmán’s job to ensure every important moment in the lives of the Undivided were captured and preserved in verse. Although Darragh couldn’t see Colmán, Darragh knew that behind him somewhere on the edge of the circle, the Vate would be taking it all in too, and probably trying to find a way to make it rhyme.

‘It has been suggested,
Leath tiarna
,’ she said after a long silence, ‘that your brother, the lost twin of the Undivided, is truly lost and can never be returned to us.’

‘Suggested by whom?’ Darragh asked. He was tempted to look directly at Marcroy, but that would be revealing too much of what he was thinking.

Farawyl didn’t like having to explain herself. Not even to one of the Undivided. ‘That is not really the point,
Leath tiarna
.’

‘Am I not permitted to face my accusers?’

‘You are not being accused, my lord. It is merely a suggestion. At this stage.’

Darragh glanced around the circle. It was hard to tell which Druid was which under their animal masks. ‘And at what point does the stage change, my lady?’ he asked. ‘You’re hardly suggesting I be removed. There are no heirs to take the place of my brother and I. He may not be here, but you cannot deny he lives, or the magic would not flow and I would be dead.’

Farawyl paused, took a deep breath, and gestured toward the Celtic queen. ‘Our guest, Queen Álmhath, has some news in that regard, which she wishes to share with us.’

For the first time, Darragh felt unsure of himself. The real reason for the queen’s visit with Marcroy would now be revealed. But why had she chosen the Council of Druids to reveal it? He glanced at the queen and then fixed his eyes on Marcroy. It was Marcroy and not the queen pulling the strings in this particular puppet show. ‘Is her majesty planning to take on the role of the Undivided herself?’

Álmhath stepped forward and raised her chin, the better to be heard. ‘I bring you tidings of great joy, princes of the Druid,’ she began loudly, holding her arms out wide. ‘Like you, our people have grieved the lost twin of the Undivided these past fifteen years. I am happy to reveal that the pain his absence has caused us will soon be a thing of the past.’

Darragh fought to keep his expression neutral.
They’ve found Rónán
, his mind was screaming.
How? This Council was organised days ago. How could she know Rónán is back? How does Marcroy know he’s back? How would he have known Rónán
would
be back in time for this?

Darragh fixed his gaze on the queen and spoke as calmly as he could manage. ‘Your words fill me with anticipation,
an Bhantiarna.
Are you telling me you have found my brother?’

Álmhath smiled at him, shaking her head. ‘Alas, no,
Leath tiarna.
I wish I brought such happy tidings for you.’ She looked up and addressed the rest of the Druids. ‘I do, however, have happy tidings for the rest of us. We no longer
need
to find the lost twin. The Faerie have found new heirs!’

Darragh’s relief that Rónán’s return remained a secret was so intense that, for a moment, he didn’t fully appreciate the ramifications of Álmhath’s announcement.

‘Not wishing to burden you with false hope,’ the queen continued, ‘Lord Tarth did not bring this news to me until he was certain these
are
the heirs we’ve all been searching for. Lord Marcroy has examined the twins and confirmed they are, indeed, psychically linked and capable of fulfilling our part of the Treaty of
Tír Na nÓg.
’

This was the last thing they were expecting. It was the last thing Darragh was expecting, too. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? His dreams were filled with dark images of murdered babies and an argument with his brother. While disturbing, the visions had sustained him, because they meant that one day Rónán would come home. They might fall out over those unnamed baby girls in the future, but it didn’t matter, so long as Rónán was found.

But he had had no warning of this particular revelation, and it rattled him to the core.

‘What can you tell us about these precious heirs,
an Bhantiarna
?’ he asked, trying to figure out how this was going
to change his own plans. ‘Where are they? When can we meet them? When can they be brought to
Sí an Bhrú
?’

‘Their names are Broc and Cairbré,’ Álmhath said. ‘They are currently under Lord Tarth’s protection at
Tír Na nÓg
, and will remain there until arrangements have been made to brand them.’

‘Where did you find them?’ a voice from the circle called out.

‘They hail from a remote village in southern Limerick.’

‘When were they born?’ another Druid wanted to know.

‘They are seven years old.’

That news sent another buzz of concern through the ranks of the gathered Druids.

‘How is it these boys remained undetected until now?’ Farawyl asked the queen, her voice full of concern. The
Matrarchaí
were supposed to check every set of twins born in the realm to find the next Undivided. It was hard to believe there were seven-year-old twins anywhere that had slipped past them.

‘They came from a small, insular community, and their mother was unable or unwilling to name the father,’ Álmhath explained. ‘Their grandfather kept them hidden, in the hopes of making a marriage alliance with a neighbouring farmer, by convincing him his daughter was pure.’ She glanced at Marcroy, who nodded in agreement.

Darragh didn’t doubt the story for a moment. Nor did he doubt Álmhath was speaking the truth about having found new heirs. There was no way to fake something like that. But why hadn’t she mentioned they were girls?

‘And when do you propose to bring these remarkable children to
Sí an Bhrú
?’ he asked. This unexpected turn of events was going to change everything for him and Rónán.

Álmhath glanced at Marcroy before she answered. ‘It has been suggested that
Lughnasadh
would be an appropriate time to transfer the power.’

‘The Autumn equinox?’ Darragh asked. A month was plenty
of time to figure out what to do. And then he realised what she’d said. ‘Wait … did you say,
transfer
the power?’ he asked incredulously. It was one thing to brand new heirs in anticipation of them one day assuming the role of the Undivided. But it was quite another to transfer the power while the current Undivided were alive and well.

Álmhath turned to Farawyl, who nodded slowly. ‘The queen of the Celts is right. We must consider what action we can take, within the confines of the treaty, to restore the power of the Undivided.’

‘I wasn’t aware the power of the Undivided was compromised,’ Darragh shot back.

Farawyl’s lips narrowed. She was unused to people talking back, and certainly not in front of the full Council.

‘Clearly, wherever he is, your brother lives,
Leath tiarna
,’ she conceded. ‘Even you have acknowledged it is unlikely he will ever be found. Surely your Sight would have told you otherwise, if that were not the case?’

‘I have never said anything of the kind.’

‘You gave up your brother’s place at table,’ Farawyl reminded him.

‘I have not given up hope, however,’ Darragh said. ‘Nor have I shared my visions, so there is nobody present who can say whether they are reliable or not.’ Darragh was in no mood to get involved in a discussion about the reliability of his Sight. Besides, he had a more immediate problem. He held up his tattooed palm for all of them to see. ‘I survived receiving the power, an investiture I shared with my missing brother. I’ll not survive having it taken away. And wherever he is, neither will he.’

‘That is the nature of the treaty,
Leath tiarna
,’ Farawyl agreed, clasping her hands together in the sleeves of her robe. ‘Your predecessors, LonHarian, surrendered their power willingly for the good of their people.’

‘LonHarian were grown men with full lives behind them. I’m in excellent health. You are passing a death sentence on me and my brother if you transfer the power now,’ Darragh said. ‘What is the point of shoving me aside to invest the power in a couple of seven-year-olds?’ He glanced around the circle, wishing he could read the faces behind the masks. ‘Is that what you want? Another ten years of Regency? Do you not recall how the last one turned out?’

Should I tell them Rónán is back?
he wondered as he waited for someone to answer.
Could I end this now, by telling them the Undivided have been restored?

But the announcement of these new heirs had blindsided him. For the first time, Darragh was uncertain about his future. He’d seen his brother in his visions, but there had been no hint in
that
future of the one confronting him now.

Was his vision flawed? What did he know of his brother, anyway? He’d met Rónán for a few hours, he didn’t know him yet. There hadn’t been time to perform the
Comhroinn
, and to complete it. He needed his brother’s total trust and co-operation and he didn’t even know if Rónán would agree to stay in this realm.

‘I suggest we decide what to do once we’ve seen these boys,’ a voice called out from somewhere behind Darragh. ‘
Lughnasadh
is not that far away. We can decide then whether to make the transfer or whether we need to give the young lads time to adjust.’

A general murmur of agreement rippled around the circle. Darragh remained silent about his brother. He needed time to figure this out. He needed time to look into his future.

Perhaps he was destined to die a month from now and his recurring dream hadn’t been a vision, but simply … a dream.

‘Aye,’ another voice called out. ‘We are missing one of the Undivided, but we’ve been missing him for the past fifteen years. Another month won’t matter, one way or another.’

That comment was also met with a general murmur of agreement. Farawyl nodded and turned to Álmhath. ‘Then it is decided,
an Bhantiarna
.’ She turned to Marcroy and added, ‘Will you bring them to us for the
Lughnasadh
and inform your queen that we have new heirs to be invested?’

‘A duty I will perform on her behalf with great pleasure,’ Marcroy said, looking pointedly at Darragh. There seemed to be some sort of silent warning in the look, but then Marcroy looked away, as if something had distracted him, leaving Darragh to face the high priestess.

‘Then we are done,’ she announced. ‘
Danú
has spoken. May the blessings of
Danú
and her kin stay with you in your endeavours. We thank the powers of the sun.’

‘We thank the powers of the sun,’ the Druids echoed.

‘We thank the powers of the moon.’

‘We thank the powers of the moon …’

And on it went, as Darragh stood in the centre of the circle in the hot sun, Farawyl droning on, counting the moments until he could get back to Breaga and speak to Rónán.

Hopefully, his brother would be ready to embrace his destiny.

If he wasn’t, then they were both as good as dead.