by Mary Morgan
“There were runes and other objects fashioned by the Vikings which could not be ignored,” protested Rose.
“Regardless, they could have forbidden us to ever come to a site again after your heated debate with the professor. We are fortunate to be able to view the area where the standing stones are, as well as in Corridon. I fear Maeve and I are going to have our hands full with keeping you restrained.”
Sinking into the cushioned chair, Rose regarded her sister. “The Society is an ancient order—eight hundred years old—established by a powerful laird for his clan, specifically his wife. We should be granted more respect, instead of being pushed aside. We’re the descendants from the original order created centuries ago. In addition, the man hated I proved him wrong months later.”
Lily arched a brow. “They don’t like our pagan ways.”
“This isn’t the middle ages where they burned witches,” Rose argued, rubbing her temples.
“Thankfully, the administration at the university would not order a burning, but they can certainly leave us out of anymore findings. To be excluded from these would send a message to other places in the country and they could ban us as well.”
“The universities are more tolerant of our Order in Boston,” grumbled Rose.
“There’s no one there challenging them,” countered Lily, pulling up a chair and sitting down.
An idea blossomed within Rose. “What we need is an insider related to the project.”
Lily shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not! I will not be friendly with Deacon.”
Reaching across the desk, Rose grabbed her sister’s hand. “Though I may have teased—”
“Threatened,” corrected Lily.
“Yes, yes, but I would not ask you to be pleasant to the man for the sake of gaining access. Is there anyone else you can think of? They are more forthcoming with you in the archaeological group than with me.”
“I did hear Professor Linton state they were bringing several more assistants onto the team, so let me do some covert research.”
“Perfect.” Rose released her sister’s hand and stood. “And I give you my solemn vow to behave myself on this new assignment.”
“Are you sure I can’t trim those jagged ends for you?” asked Lily, standing and coming alongside her. “I will endeavor to do my best and wear my glasses.”
Rose patted her sister’s cheek affectionately. “As much as I love you, I believe it’s wiser to have one of the other women assist me.”
“Rose Aine MacLaren, you wound me once again,” pouted Lily, though her eyes danced with mirth.
“Bah! I know your devious side, Lily Diana MacLaren. You’ve been aching to cut my locks to my shoulders since we were young lasses playing in fields of wildflowers.”
“And you landed in a patch of nettles,” added Lily, cupping a hand over her mouth.
“A dreadful incident,” remarked Rose, doing her best not to laugh. “At least mother had the good sense not to chop off all my hair.”
“I tried to convince her otherwise!” shouted Lily.
“Thank the stars she refused to listen to you.”
As Rose departed the library, her sister’s laughter followed her down the hall.
Chapter Four
“Happiness is often times fleeting. A code of honor is immortal.”
~Edicts of the Fenian Warriors
Aidan paced within the chambers, darting a glance at the prism of light streaming through the stained-glass window. A rainbow of colors danced along the floor, creating a magical effect inside the room. After listening patiently to the proposal, he sought answers to the many questions tumbling through his mind, especially the ones pertaining to the Standing Stones of Corridon. He paused and lifted his hand to the light. “Why the twentieth century in Scotland, Loran?”
When his friend and member of the Fae council remained quiet, Aidan turned around. For a moment, sorrow brushed across the Fae’s features. Loran quickly masked his emotions and rubbed a hand over his chin. “This missive comes from the High Seer. She states there is a situation that must be contained.”
Aidan frowned. “But why did she request me?”
“Uncertain,” replied Loran. “As you are aware, the seer rarely divulges all of the vision.”
“How true,” muttered Aidan. “Has King Ansgar been informed?”
“Yes, and he did have his reservations.”
Walking to the window, Aidan leaned against the ledge. “If the king does not wish to see me take on this mission, I will happily turn it over to Ronan, Conn, and Flynn to assess the situation in the mortal realm.”
“The king was reminded that though you are the leader of the warriors, you are not above your duty to oversee important timelines in the human world. In addition, you have land near the site, do you not?”
Growing frustrated with the lack of information Loran was supplying, Aidan fisted his hands on his hips. “Yes. I have a castle in the hills of Aberdeenshire, though I have not visited in centuries. What exactly do these particular stones reveal in Scotland?”
“The Fae realm and our origins.”
Aidan abruptly pushed away from the window. “Who would dare violate our rules?”
His friend shrugged. “Any one of the ancient civilizations on Earth, but I deem it was the Picts.”
Aidan waved his hand in dismissal. “There has never been a recorded account found from these people. It must be another ancient tribe.”
“Then only the best warrior should be sent to disprove my theory.”
Chuckling softly, Aidan shook his head. “Do not flatter me, old friend.”
“Why the objections? You have not visited above for many years.”
“Others need to be trained, and I have no need to venture to the mortal realm.”
Loran fidgeted with the quill on his desk. “Is it beneath you?”
“Of course not, but my duties are required here.”
“Regardless, the order has been given and granted. If you oppose this assignment, then I suggest you take your argument to the king.”
Aidan returned his attention to Loran’s garden outside the window. Seeking counsel from King Ansgar was often not favorable, especially after his son Conn entered the Brotherhood. Their conversations remained clipped and terse. The king had no wish for his only son to renounce his heritage to the kingdom. Aidan considered if Ansgar put part of the blame on allowing Conn to join the elite group as his fault. No matter the argument he made to Ansgar, his mind had already been set.
And the division between the king and Aidan began.
Aidan retreated from the ledge. “I shall make arrangements for someone to be in charge of the Fenian Warriors. Am I permitted to bring any other warriors?”
Loran nodded slowly. “Yes. Whom did you have in mind?”
“Since this pertains to historical events, I judge it wise to bring Liam.”
“I concur,” agreed Loran. “Your journey begins at the light of the next day. Though I believe Rory will not look favorably on being left out of a historical dig.”
Aidan glanced sharply over his shoulder. “The MacGregor brothers need to spend some time apart.”
His friend remained silent and continued to fidget with items on his desk.
Crossing the room to Loran, he studied the elder’s features. “Is there more you care to impart to me?”
Chuckling softly, Loran placed a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “Do not attempt to analyze my features. My concerns are with this mission.”
“Do you sense danger? A threat to the kingdom?”
His friend shrugged and retrieved a scroll from the shelves in back of his desk. “As you recall, centuries ago it was a woman who claimed to have the knowledge of the stars—of people who descended to Eire and inhabited the island. She even documented the event on parchment.” Loran tapped the scroll against his fingers. “Thankfully, it was retrieved for safekeeping.”
“If required, we shall bury the stone artifa
ct into the ground,” suggested Aidan.
“And to have it surface later?” Loran shook his head. “No. Assess the situation and determine if the translation needs to be altered in any form, but only by the human archaeologists—not Fae magic. Convince them of another meaning.”
Aidan gestured to the parchment. “We can always collect the stone and preserve it for safekeeping in our realm.”
Loran arched a brow in disdain. “Obtaining a large stone tablet, which has most likely been catalogued, photographed, and discussed by the Earth’s news media, is far more difficult than snatching a piece of parchment from the tent of an eighth century bard.”
“Merely a thought. Or we could cause the elements to destroy the stone…” Aidan paused and folded his arms across his chest. “No. That theory won’t work either. Photographs and such.”
“Precisely.”
Waving a hand in the air, Aidan added, “I’m positive the issue will present a solution when we have examined the situation.”
“Keep within the Fae laws,” advised Loran, dropping the scroll onto his desk.
“The leader of the Fenian Warriors shall always abide by the codes.” After giving the elder a mock salute, Aidan vanished in a sliver of light.
****
The air swarmed with bees, and the scent of honeysuckle floated by Aidan as he proceeded down the curved path within the royal gardens. Spring had always been his favorite, and he smiled as his steps took him past new growth in the flower garden. As was always the custom with his sister, Nuala, she favored her garden during the early morning.
He brushed his fingers over the lavender wands flowing lazily with the warm breeze. Whenever he visited, a sense of peace and calm descended within his soul. Flowers of every kind sprouted forth in abundance, presenting a fusion of colors.
Bending to inhale the heady floral scent of a rose, Aidan was tempted to pluck the petals.
“Do not encourage or tamper with the growth of the flowers in my garden,” warned Nuala.
He peered over the rose bushes, finding his sister on her hands and knees, kneading the soil near a cluster of bluebells. She was barefoot and wearing a simple gown. “I would not dare,” he teased, coming around in front of her. “Does the Queen of the Fae enjoy playing in the dirt?”
His sister tossed a lump of soil in his direction, and he swiftly maneuvered out of the way. “Your aim is off, wee sister.”
Nuala trailed a path in the dirt with her finger. The ground rumbled beneath Aidan, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground. She stood and flicked her wrists to magically rid the dirt from her hands. “Never underestimate the power of the queen, regardless if she happens to be your sibling.”
Aidan placed his hands over his bent knees and roared with laughter. “Duly noted.” Standing, he gave a slight bow. “My queen.”
Nuala chuckled softly and went to embrace him. “It is good to see you, Aidan.”
Cradling her head against his chest, he exhaled slowly. Guilt plagued him. “I have been away far too long.”
“Agreed,” she uttered softly. “But I presume your duties will always keep you away, since the Brotherhood is your home and position.”
After breaking free, Aidan cast his gaze outward to the garden. “Conn is doing extremely well in the Brotherhood. Your son has chosen his path.”
“As I expected,” she mused and walked along the path between the bluebells.
Aidan followed her. His sister passed under a trellis thick with ivy and primroses and gestured for him to sit beside her on a rose quartz bench. Water flowed in a gentle current from the river behind them.
Leaning forward, Aidan braced his forearms on his thighs. “I have forgotten how serene the royal gardens can be on one’s spirit.”
“All Fae gardens in the realm are tranquil. You find this particular landscape appealing because you have not visited the blossoming of the land in some time.”
He glanced sideways at her. “You have a special touch, Nuala.”
“The season of rebirth brings us all home again,” she declared, trailing her fingers over the primroses.
“I suppose.”
She frowned and clasped her hands together in her lap. “What troubles you, Aidan?”
“Unsure.”
“Specify,” she ordered.
“What have your visions told you about me?”
She regarded him coolly. “Answer my question.”
Standing abruptly, Aidan paced within the bucolic setting. “Discontentment, uncertainty, threads which are elusive and do not present themselves.”
“You need to run barefoot across the land,” suggested Nuala.
Halting before her, he folded his arms over his chest. “I am not a lad who needs some playtime.”
Nuala waved a hand dismissively. “No. You are a Fae and connected to the land. You have forgotten in your quest to hone and sharpen the Fenian Warriors.”
“I am fully aware of my connection. Nevertheless, I have no time to dwell on reflective contemplation. A situation requires my attention in the human world.”
Nuala lowered her head. “I have heard the news.”
Tipping her chin up with his finger, Aidan asked, “From Ansgar or a vision?”
“Both.” She took his hand and stood. “I cannot see the vision clearly, Aidan.”
Confused by her statement, he shrugged. “Why does this concern you? The mission requires a delicate, but firm assessment. As soon as it is concluded, I will return home.”
Pushing away from him, Nuala walked down a moss-covered path toward the river. Sunlight radiated off his Fae sister as if she drew it to her. He darted across the path and reached for her hand. “You have not answered any of my questions.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Which ones? As one of the seers, I am bound by their laws and can choose not to reveal my visions.”
He placed her hand over his heart. “And as my sister you have sworn to always divulge anything that comes from the Goddess in a vision regarding me.”
Nuala attempted to free her hand, but Aidan kept a firm hold. “A pledge sworn before I became the queen and a seer,” she protested.
He released her hand and walked to the river. An amethyst winked from the water’s edge, and Aidan bent to retrieve the gem. “Is there anything you can share?” he asked, inspecting the stone between his fingers.
“Your destiny awaits, and sadly, I don’t foresee you returning to our home anytime soon.”
Destiny? There was that word again. It had woven its way into him daily ever since the stag had made its appearance. He glanced over his shoulder. “Can you see the path ahead? I require guidance, Nuala.”
She tilted her head to the side, studying him for several heartbeats. “Only a glimpse. Do not move. Do not speak.”
Moving gracefully farther along the river’s edge, she went to the largest expanse of the water. Nuala bent and scooped up a portion of the fine white sand, which extended out on either side of the river. As she stepped into the water, she let the glistening particles slip free from her fingers. The radiance around his sister shimmered, and the flow of the river ceased, sealing them in a cocoon of time.
Aidan feared to breathe as he watched in awe. A mirror of images blurred in a kaleidoscope of jeweled colors, and the air cooled considerably around him. Voices echoed within the water, along with vehicles from the human world. A brilliant flash of light was followed by darkness, along with musical laughter and singing he had never heard before. The female’s gaiety whispered against his soul, and Aidan’s heart pounded erratically. He kept his gaze locked in the middle of the river, searching for her face within the multi-faceted images.
When the first glimmer of light danced across the sky, Aidan was held spellbound by the beauty that materialized in front of him. Flowing silver-blonde hair floated with each movement of her body. She kept her back to him as she continued to lure him forward with her siren’s song. He yearned to lend his voice to the me
lody.
Instinctively, he lifted his hand toward her, determined to see her face.
A wave of energy sent Aidan spiraling through the air. Once more, he landed with a thud against the ground. Lights, sounds, and dizziness swamped him. Several moments passed before he was able to recover. He blinked, trying to access his surroundings. Shielding his eyes, he stared into the mournful face of his sister.
“You should not have attempted to reach out,” she chastised.
Aidan stood slowly. Confused over the vision, he asked, “Why was I drawn to her? Is she Fae?”
“I cannot decipher a vision.”
He grasped her hands. Coldness seeped into him. “Then why the solemn veneer?”
“I can offer you no more, Aidan. I’ve shown you a possible future. Only you can make the determination if it is the right journey to follow.”
“Give me something,” he pleaded.
Tears misted her eyes. “No matter the path you choose, it will lead to destruction.”
He released her hands as if he had been burned. His sister’s words were like a knife to his heart, and he took a hesitant step back.
“Then I will send another on this mission.”
Her smile held sadness. “You of all Fae understand that once a path is taken, you cannot alter its ending.”
His laugh was bitter. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared at the flowing river. “I have yet to make the journey.”
“Wrong,” she argued. “The Fates set in motion your timeline the moment you accepted this assignment.”
“Regardless, I shall find another to take my place,” he snapped.
“Will the great Fenian Warrior allow fear to guide him? You mistook the meaning of the word destruction. There are other interpretations.”
Aidan met her gaze, seeing the censure within. “If there was any positive explanation to glean from this vision, I am confident your demeanor would not have been filled with remorse.”
Eyes that blazed with anger glared at him. “Your time spent in the Brotherhood has hardened you, Brother. You see black and white. Good versus evil. Right and wrong. Obviously, your mind is clouded with the rigorous training required by the warriors.” Turning her back on him, she stormed away from the water and through the trees.