Báirseach- the Midding Gate

by V B Gilbert

  Murphy takes me on a ‘courting picnic’ as he calls it to the hot springs. The basket he packs is full of fresh berries, meat strips, and a bottle of elderberry wine.

  We talk and kiss. Long, slow, drugging kisses. When Murphy lays me back on the blanket, his large body between my thighs, it’s exciting and romantic . . . and natural.

  When Murphy slowly pulls my shirt off, there’s no blushing as he gazes down at me. I want this. I want him.

  His work-roughened hands cause tingles to run up and down my body as he lovingly strokes my face, my shoulders, and my breasts. His long fingers explore my folds with a gentle touch, all the while capturing my mouth in heart-melting kisses.

  He enters me slowly, his thrusts slow and steady. He teases me until we’re both gasping for breath, our sweat-slickened bodies sliding against each other.

  Our climax causes my vision to grey and through my joy, my only thought is — I’m home. When I regain my senses, Murphy is laughing beside me a hand held up to the rain pouring down.

  “Well done, Love. You made it rain.”

  When we return, my leg has a full double-wave tattoo that spans my calf and shin to my knee.

  “Did she gain your water powers as well?” Egan inquires as he squats and inspects my newest mark.

  “I’ll say this. I’m glad we were mated, because a very cold rain began falling on us.” Murphy laughs at the memory.

  I slap his stomach with the back of my hand, then turn it up and make a small circle on the palm. Slowly, a small puddle of water forms, that I promptly dump in Murphy’s lap.

  Leaning back into the couch cushions, I laugh. But I quickly lose my smile when Cathmor stands and stomps out of the house. With a sigh, I move to follow him, but Egan puts a restraining hand on my knee.

  “Let him brood for a moment, Mo Chroí. You’ve yet to bond with him. This has to sting.”

  Nodding, I relax against Murphy and contemplate what to do about Cathmor. I do have feelings for him, and we’ve shared many kisses. Yet, he hasn’t formally asked to bond with me; I don’t know how we go about it.

  Bonding with Egan and Murphy happened — not accidentally — but without either of us asking to be bound. The Goddess chose. Now I feel bad about denying the binding with Cathmor not once, but twice.

  We’ve been feeding the wyrms for two weeks, and I’m worried. They’ve developed their limbs and are now crawling forward for their meals. They even have the beginnings of their wings. But their scales are odd. By this point they are usually grey or black unless they are orange from the heat radiating from the lava. These scales have more of a rainbow hue. Constantly changing, no matter if they are in the lava or not.

  Most troubling is their size. They are stunted. They haven’t grown much past the size of my hand. I blame the irregularity of the heat the eggs were exposed to on our journey to Firehaven.

  I haven’t voiced my concern to the men, but I know with only two more weeks to Winter Solstice, I’ll have to say something soon. Resolved to speak to them, I throw the last of the meat to the wyrms.

  Only Cathmor is with me today. The feedings have become routine, and it is decided all three men don’t need to accompany me each time.

  I’m walking to him and watching him rise from the ground when I feel arms around me. Arms I can’t see. I scream as I kick my legs back.

  “Cathmor!”

  “Daisy!” Cathmor takes a step towards me. That’s all he gets out before he rocks back as though he’s been hit and crumples to the ground.

  Heart thundering in my chest, I demand weakly, “Ciaran? Are you doing this?” Who else could it be?

  There’s no answer, but I’m being dragged forward, and a cloth appears out of thin air in front of my face. Invisible hands shove it in my mouth. I feel a hand on my head, hear a murmur of words, and then my world goes dark.

  “Look at her arm and leg. She’s been bonded twice. Do you think a third will take?” The hushed whisper infiltrates my foggy mind.

  “You must try. Without the bonding, we have no hope of bonding with the elementals.” A second voice doesn’t bother to whisper, but I’m so dazed I can’t concentrate to know if it’s someone I know or not.

  “We haven’t even found the eggs. Or any eggs for that matter.” There. That voice is definitely Ciaran.

  “Just do the binding spell when she wakes. We are running out of time. We cannot go back without them. Her men will come looking soon.” The voice is retreating as he speaks, and I get the impression that I'm being left alone with Ciaran.

  My hand is lifted and something rough is wound around my wrist. “Bind and stay. So mote it be.” It’s a familiar spell, but there is no overwhelming urge on my part to complete it.

  Ciaran then recites:

  Heart to heart

  Life to life

  We join together

  To share all strife

  Never undone

  Bound as one

  So mote it be.

  “Goddess, why is it not working?” Ciaran stomps around a bit and then bends close to me. I can feel his breath across my face. “I know you’re awake, Sage. Get up.” Ciaran roughly pulls on my arm, and my eyes pop open. Disoriented, I stumble and fall against my ex-boyfriend as I try to get my feet beneath me.

  “Why is this so important to you, Ciaran? Why me?”

  “We need the dragons, Sage. It’s all about politics, power, and needing a change from the old ways.” I look in dismay at my surroundings as Ciaran speaks.

  We’re in a cave. Candles are glowing on the floor, flickering in the slight draft coming from the opening. The walls are slightly damp, and we weave through black stalagmites on our way to the entrance.

  Ciaran has tied my wrist with a length of rope and holds the end in his hand. “Come, Sage. Where is the best place to find eggs?”

  “I don’t know.” As if I would tell him even if I did know.

  “You’re a dragon tender. Surely, you know where eggs can be found. Don’t lie to me.” Yanking me out of the cave, he leads us to the left along a barely-there path. Looking down, I can vaguely see the valley floor, though the volcano across the way is very clear.

  “We don’t hunt for eggs, we take the ones the mating pair have laid. It is in the accord that the dragons allow us the eggs. I honestly don’t know where to look.”

  The determination on Ciaran’s face scares me. Focusing on taking one step at a time, I dare not look to the right. One misstep, and I’ll careen off the mountain side, hitting rocks and trees on the way down.

  I search for the small bundle tucked in the corner of my mind that is Egan and Murphy. I can sense them far to the east of where I am. Too far. I hope that they can sense me and find me through our bond.

  The path we are on zig-zags, and after ten minutes, we stop on a ledge where Ciaran’s uncle Lennon is casting a spell. I feel a weight settle in the air around us.

  “What did he do? What was that?”

  Lennon sneers at me, “A cloaking spell, Mundane. I’m not surprised a powerless Witch doesn’t recognize the magic.” Turning to his nephew he asks, “Is she bound?”

  “No. She also had no information about where the eggs might be.”

  Setting out on the path again, Lennon states over his shoulder, “Keep trying. Meanwhile, I say we try closer to the volcano this time.”

  “We can’t!” Horrified, I pull against the rope, attempting to stop Ciaran’s forward motion. “We’ll die. The heat and fumes are toxic.”

  “Leave that to me, girl. I have more power than you’ve ever dreamed of having.”

  Pleading with Ciaran now, I jog until I’m by his side. “Truly, we’ll die. The lava is resistant to magic. Do you think the volcano would be any less so? Please, Ciaran. Listen to me.”

  The stubborn man just shakes his head, repeating his binding spell over and over. I know I could burn through the rope. But I can only make a small flame, and I’m sure Lennon would spell something stronger if I’m caught.


  I don’t want them to know that I can do any magic. So, unless an opportune time arises, I’m just going to follow along.

  Two days pass, always traveling closer to the volcano. I can sense my bondmates are closer, and once I thought I saw Onyx flying overhead. Lennon, however, is quick with his spells, and when I try to scream, I find myself mute.

  As we travel, Lennon sends Ciaran climbing boulders and up to ledges looking for eggs. I could have told them they were wasting their time. But every delay gives my men time to catch up. Every night as we lay down, I can feel them closer.

  On the fourth day, we camp early, in a large flat area, covered in black sand. Lennon resets the cloaking spell, and places wards around our bedrolls. When we lay down for the night, I stare at the volcano and the lava steadily flowing out of the top. The sea is close, the salty air mixes with the hints of sulfur, and I can’t wait any longer.

  My mates are close, if I can free myself, perhaps they’ll feel me growing closer and meet me halfway. I have no choice but to try.

  I turn towards the south, where I sense Egan and Murphy, and watch as the moon slowly rises. Ciaran’s deep breathing indicates he’s the first asleep, but he’s not the one I’m scared of. Keeping my own breathing steady, despite the rapid beat of my heart, I wait. The moon reaches its zenith and starts to wane before I hear the deep steady breathing of Lennon’s slumber.

  With shaky hands, I attempt to snap my fingers. I have to physically lean into my bicep and hold my wrist to be steady enough to snap.

  A flame sparks to life, and I hold it to the rope around my wrist. Because of the binding spell Ciaran used, the rope does not catch fire. But the flame does snap one strand at a time in a slow pace. Too slow. I weep as the fire begins to singe at the skin, irritating then burning it. By the time the last strand is snapped, blisters have formed on the side of my wrist. But I’m free.

  Stealthily, I rise from my bedroll, boots in hand and pad across the gritty sand, heading due south. I’ve covered several yards, when a buzzing runs across my body, and I’m halted midstep. Panting for breath, I will myself not to panic.

  “It’s not that easy to get away, girl.” Lennon’s voice is right beside me, and I look to the side to see him there with a new length of rope. Quickly retying it around my wrist, I cry out as the binding bursts the blisters. “You must really be eager to get away to hold your hand over a flame for so long. Surely, the thought of Ciaran as a mate is not that distasteful. You should be thankful any Warlock wants a Mundane like you.”

  Biting my lips against the pain, I look away, refusing to engage with this man. I’m not sure what flame he thought I used, but the way he’s been so condescending towards me, I doubt he suspects I have magic. I hope so, that’s a secret I’d like to keep a little longer.

  Lennon is power hungry, and is willing to die to get more. There’s no other explanation for wanting to go up the volcano.

  Lennon yanks me back to the bedrolls, and as we approach, I ignore the reproachful look Ciaran gives me. We must have woken him, because he is sitting up in his bedroll, hair tousled from sleep.

  “It’s almost morning. We might as well get on our way.” Lennon pushes me towards Ciaran and gathers his supplies into his pack.

  “Get your boots on, Sage, and roll up your bedding.” Ciaran packs his own things, and then ties my bedroll with his on the bottom of his pack. “Let’s go. I have a good feeling. Today, we find our eggs.”

  25

  The stench of sulfur burns my nostrils, and my eyes are watering non-stop when Lennon calls the first break. Both he and Ciaran are suffering as I am. The smell is not the only thing affecting us. The heat is rising, and I know soon, the watery eyes will cease as we dehydrate.

  Lennon seems to also be tiring quickly. He’s been holding the cloaking spell for five days now. He stands before us, weaving as he starts forming circles over our heads. His murmuring spell is raspy and broken, but it works. The smell is bearable now, though the heat remains.

  “Try the bonding spell again Ciaran.” Lennon’s voice is weak, and he takes a moment to sip some water.

  Ciaran coughs, then grabs the jug from his uncle, taking a long draught. He passes it to me, and I quickly sip at the water while Ciaran tries the spell, again.

  Heart to heart

  Life to life

  We join together

  To share all strife

  Never undone

  Bound as one

  So mote it be.

  Instead of speaking, he just shakes his head at his uncle and takes the jug back. After another drink of water, he passes it back to Lennon then trudges on. “I’ll try again later.”

  I know Egan and Murphy are close, but I don’t think they can see us. I hope they have a plan. Looking up, I scan the skies for Onyx and Cathmor. Alarmed, I give a shriek, “The red dragons. Lennon. Ciaran. The red dragons are out.”

  I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I stumble as we continue on, my focus on the dragons above and not the path.

  The earth trembles as a loud thump resounds behind us. My vision blurs as my heart races, and I’m terrified to look behind us.

  Oh Goddess, please let that be Onyx and not a red dragon. Please.

  The dragon behind us bellows, and Ciaran’s spine stiffens as he resolutely pulls me forward.

  My throat is parched from the heat now, but I try to talk, anyway. What comes out is a whisper, “Ciaran, stop. I don’t want to die.”

  For a moment, I think he hasn’t heard me, but he pulls me close and whispers back, “We must be close if a dragon deigns to land near us. I’m sure of it.”

  I’m going to die on this volcano. I don’t want to die. I didn’t bond with Cathmor. I didn’t tell my mates I love them. No! No, I won’t die like this.

  Digging deep, I snap my fingers, and fire flares along my palms. I spin and shove my burning hands at Lennon. My fire gutters out, but it was enough. He topples over from fatigue, the heat, and my push. He must have been close to collapse already, because he’s barely fallen when the spells he’s been holding falters.

  In the distance, I see Onyx. Then my gaze is on my mates and Cathmor running towards me. Reaching out, I whisper for them, the heat drying out my mouth and throat. I’m quickly spun around by Ciaran, who drags me to the edge of the path. Lava is flowing a burning-red below, and I’m mesmerized and scared senseless at how close death is.

  I cling to Ciaran as I notice his focus is down and to the right of where mine is. Three eggs sitting on a ledge several feet below us have caught his gaze.

  “No, Ciaran we can’t get closer.” I barely get the words out of my scorched throat, the smell of sulfur is overpowering, and I know we have only minutes before we pass out or expire from exposure.

  Ciaran shrugs me off, and starts climbing down, the rope of my bound wrist still in his clutches. Alternately panting in fear and coughing against the heat and sulfur combination, my lungs burn, and my chest clenches as my breathing becomes labored.

  Dimly, I’m aware of my men calling me, as I unsteadily climb down after Ciaran. I have no choice. If he pulls me down, I’ll surely fall in the lava, and I’m too weak to force him back to the path.

  Ciaran has reached the eggs and is trying to grab one when a shower of rocks hit me from above. Blearily, I peer up, breathing shallowly, and I think I’m hallucinating. A vine is slithering down the side of the volcano. I mindlessly watch as it curls around my free hand, creeps up my arm, then twines around my torso.

  A moan from Ciaran has me glancing his way as the vine raises my arm above my head. Ciaran has released the rope and is struggling to get a hold of an egg. Somewhere in my numb mind, I know there’s a reason he can’t, but it slips away, exactly like the egg is slipping away from Ciaran.

  The vine pulls, and though my vision is spotty, I attempt to look up again, but it makes me dizzy, and I sway.

  “Daisy! Hold on!”

  “Bind and stay! So Mote it be!”

  The vi
ne tightens, and I open my mouth — the words on the tip of my tongue — but I’m fading fast, and no sound is coming out.

  Cathmor’s faint pleas reach my ears over the buzzing that’s filling my head. “Please, Daisy. Complete the binding. Please, love.”

  No longer able to see, I scream in my head, my last coherent thought.

  “Stay and bind! So mote it be!”

  As I succumb to the heat and fumes, I feel weightless, and a whisper crosses my mind.

  >Báirseach.<

  26

  A mist is falling. I’m in a bed, and a mist is falling over me. As I swim up from the deep dark, I know it’s daytime by the brightness reddening the back of my eyelids. Blinking against the water continuously falling on my face, I look to the side to see luscious ferns, ivy, and other large-leaved foliage.

  Was I in a bed in a forest?

  Was I dead?

  Then the memories come flickering to life in my mind. The crazed ambition shining in both Lennon’s and Ciaran’s eyes. The madness as they drug me across the mountains, across the volcanic sands, and into the hell of sulfur and fire where they were sure they would find the answer to the power they sought.

  I recall the burn of each breath, the stench, and the heat. The hypnotic flow of the lava so deathly close, I was sure I was going to die. Tears fill my eyes at the memory of Cathmor trying to lift me out off the side of the volcano, I believe he felt the bonding would strengthen the vine instead of burning away.

  I must have died.

  >You are not dead, Báirseach.<

  A deep, gravelly voice fills my mind. It’s scary and big and familiar, as though I should know who it belongs to.

  Who is this?

  >My Warlock calls me Onyx. But I belong to you now. We all do.<

  I don’t understand.