Báirseach- the Midding Gate

by V B Gilbert

  Cathmor peers over them then taps their shoulders, “Back away.”

  “What is it?” I make a move to see for myself, but Cathmor restrains me. Straining my neck, I see something glinting on the ground.

  “I think Lennon hexed him. It’s a crystal, it’s bleeding black into the natural purple coloring. I think it made it easier to manipulate and amplify Ciaran’s natural ambition.” Walking to his bag hanging off of one of the horses, he rummages around and pulls out a glass jar with a metal lid. “I’m going to collect it for the council to inspect. Stay here.”

  >We’re going to hunt, Báirseach. Call if you need us.< Onyx’s voice rumbles, and it reminds me that we need to eat as well.

  I’ll talk to the men, the shelter is the other side of the lake. Meet us there when you’re done? Giving a regal nod to my words, the dragons take flight.

  Turning back, I notice Egan and Murphy are already pulling out some jerky and fruit. Cathmor is carefully scooping the crystal off the ground. After putting the lid on, he lays his hand on Ciaran’s forehead.

  “He’s out cold. We may need to sling him over a horse for the way home if he doesn’t wake soon.” He gently moves Ciaran’s limbs, so he’s in a more comfortable position but leaves him where he is.

  While we sit on the ground eating a light supper, we discuss Lennon, the crystal, and the residual effects that Ciaran might suffer.

  Edan is literally playing in the fire. Casey and Mori are on the side of the road, Mori making mud and Casey planting daisies.

  “Who knows how long Ciaran’s been carrying that crystal. I doubt he suspected his uncle of bespelling him.” Egan tosses his apple core to his horse then picks up the jar. Bringing it close to his face, he studies the damaged crystal. “Why did it turn black?”

  “I’ve read about this. It’s dark magic manipulating someone’s mind.” Murphy leans forward dangling his hands over his bent knees. “He must have been using up the limited power of the crystal. The blackness is the expended power.”

  “I’ve heard that, too, though I’ve never actually seen it before.” Cathmor leans back on his palms, stretching his legs out and resting them against my thigh. “I fear with as much power as Lennon was using, he may have turned Ciaran’s mind.”

  This saddens me. Ciaran wasn’t the best of boyfriends, but if some of his early behavior was driven by Lennon, well . . . it’s almost understandable. What he’s done, though. How cruel he became? Deep down, that must have been who he was, just amplified by the crystal. Shaking my head, I decide to let the council deal with him. I have other more pressing matters to deal with.

  “Can one of you check on Ciaran while I pack up? I asked Onyx and Liam to meet us at the camp. It’s just a bit further, then we can relax for the night.” Dusting my hands against my thighs, I make a small flame in my hand and burn the trash from our dinner.

  We travel by horseback for another hour, and as we take a bend in the road towards the lake, we stop short. Five men are on the road, hands outstretched.

  Unsheathing our swords, we dismount and get off the road, approaching slowly. Edan, Casey, and Mori hover above us, steam puffing out of their snouts. We use the trees as cover, and we get a better view when we’re a few yards away.

  Their hair color varies, but the style does not. Each has the sides of their heads shaved, the remaining hair tied back with multiple bands and falling to their waists.

  Their blue trousers are tucked into leather boots that reach their knees. They have shirts similar to ours but with a stiff, thin band at the neck. Slung like a cloak across their backs, are animal hides.

  One man notices us and starts shouting in a language I don’t know. I look across to Cathmor. “Do you know what he’s saying? Do you know who they are?”

  I’m startled, but I don’t panic. It appears they’re stuck on the other side of the barrier.

  “Pirates. We’ve been invaded. I know some of the words. . . . I think the barrier is still there. They can’t go any further. Can you see it?” Laying a hand on my thigh, Cathmor keeps me from edging too close.

  “I see a shimmer. It must be. They look like they’re feeling something solid.” Attempting to steady my breathing, I place a hand on my stomach. “What should we do?”

  “We keep the dragons away until we know how many of them there are. Draw your swords.” Cathmor delivers that command to all of us, and I get a glimpse of the part of him that is an Enforcer.

  The men must do some communication with their dragon counterparts, because the dragonlings zip into cloak pockets.

  “Wait. Let me have Onyx fly over. If he stays high enough he might be able to tell us how many men there are.”

  Cathmor sends me a grin. “Aye, Báirseach. Good plan.”

  Onyx? I scan the sky as I call out.

  >Báirseach?<

  Can you fly over the lake? There are invaders present. We need to know how many we are dealing with.

  >As you command.<

  Anxiously we wait, the horses sidestepping as they feed off of our nervousness. Maybe it’s just my nerves. The men almost seem bored as they sit relaxed on their mounts.

  Glancing down the road, I notice that there are now only three men, quietly and furiously arguing with each other. Finally, one of the men, younger and shorter than the others, cautiously steps forward.

  “You magicked this ice wall?” His speech is halting and heavily accented.

  “No. Another Warlock did that. But you can’t pass it without magic!” Cathmor yells back.

  A look of alarm crosses the invader’s face, and he points to us as he speaks to his peers. Similar looks cross their faces, and another man peels off to retreat. Shouts of excitement rise next as Onyx flies over and lands behind us.

  >There is one here, the second seems to be following the other man back to camp and seven around the fire. I know not if any were inside.< Onyx pads forward and sits beside me.

  The invader yells across, seemingly astonished at how close the dragon is to me. “Is your dragon?”

  Cathmor starts to answer, but I place a hand out, stopping him. “Let me answer.”

  Dismounting, I hand my reins to Egan. Speaking to all my men, I disclose, “Onyx saw ten men. He does not know if there are others inside the shelter. I’m going to go talk to that man. I’ll stay on this side of the ward.”

  I start walking and smile when I hear the jingle of the tackle as my men follow behind me. Onyx, too, strides forward in surprisingly light hops. Hovering behind us, I can feel Liam and Flynn.

  As we approach, the invader’s eyes grow larger, his words stuttering out, “Dr-dr-agons! Th-the Dr-dragons!”

  32

  At the sight of the dragons, the invader pales, his eyes roll back, and he slumps into a faint.

  “Now’s a good time to practice your earth powers, Daisy. Focus on a vine, imagine it stretching and binding his hands. With your hands, pretend you are pulling rope. Remember will and intent.” Cathmor tilts his head to the plants on the side of the road.

  I raise a hand, and a lone vine lifts up. I pull my hand towards me, and the vine slithers forward. Casey flies to my shoulder, and I feel a boost of power.

  I miss the man’s hands on my first pass, so we cross the barrier to get closer. Then I almost bind Cathmor’s hands as well where he’s holding the invader’s hands together. But my third try is successful.

  “Close the spell, Daisy.” Giving me space, Cathmor continues to instruct me.

  “Bind and stay. So mote it be.” As soon as I’m done, the bindings tighten.

  “What’s the plan, Cathmor?” Murphy stands guarding the road, sword drawn.

  “We take our prisoner to his friends and try to get them to come willingly to Lámhach and face the council.”

  No sooner has Cathmor finished his sentence than men come running from the far side of the lake. They are brandishing swords and metal-tipped spears.

  I don’t know if it’s the security of being with my men or the bo
nd with the dragons, but I feel confident and unhurried. Whatever happens next, we will be fine.

  Egan passes me his sword, and with a flick of his wrists has two large balls of fire floating above the palms of his hands. He lobs them in a continuous motion in the path of the men.

  Murphy is making a cupping motion, and waves start breaking over the edge of the lake, growing bigger with each pass. One wave catches a man, drawing him into the lake.

  Cathmor raises his arms then slowly draws them together until the palms meet. The trees creak as they bend towards the road. Vines are slithering along the road, tripping and binding the men’s legs.

  Onyx roars behind me, grabbing a man, flying high before dropping him.

  “No! Stop! Don’t kill them!” I stay behind my men, screaming.

  >As you command, Báirseach.< Onyx drops back and lands with a thud behind me.

  Egan and Murphy pull their powers back, and it’s only then that I see their dragon bondmates sitting on their shoulders. Casey is on all fours, back arched, claws dug into Cathmor’s muscles as my mate continues to bind each man.

  I hunch forward, hands braced on my knees and fight the nausea bubbling in my gut. I think I’m hyperventilating. Two men were just killed in front of me. Black spots float in front of my eyes, and I slowly kneel on the ground, breathing deeply.

  “Mo Chroí.” Egan rubs circles on my back then speaks to Murphy and Cathmor. “I’m taking her to the shelter. The dragons can guard her. Hopefully, our wagon is still useable and we can use it to move the men.”

  Murphy lifts me in his arms giving me a hard kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you soon, Love.”

  Egan has mounted a horse, and Murphy gently passes me up to him. Cathmor steps up before we can leave. Gripping my face, he pulls me forward for a soft kiss.

  “You did well stopping us, Daisy. We’ll talk more at the shelter.” Loping off, he checks on Ciaran, then approaches the bound men.

  They are yelling in their language, wriggling away as Murphy and Cathmor disarm them. When they all fall silent, I peer around Egan to find that Liam and Flynn are sitting on their haunches, staring at the prisoners.

  With a small laugh, I straighten, releasing a shaky laugh. “I have no problem fighting trolls or dealing with pixies. I’ve even grown used to the dragons, though now it’s easier, as they feel like they are part of me.” I hug Egan’s arm to me, and he accommodates me by wrapping it around my torso. “But I’ve never seen a real fight. I’ve never seen a man die of anything other than natural causes.”

  “We are taught how to fight. How to defend ourselves.” Egan sighs, “But I’ve never fought before. All I could think of was keeping you safe. I might have killed them all, Sage, to protect you.”

  Twisting, I reach back and press a kiss on Egan’s jaw. “Thank you. But I don’t want that for you. Not for any of you. I love you, Egan.”

  “I love you, Sage.”

  Egan leaves me at the firepit to start a fire with Edan, while he makes sure the shelter is clear. He comes out, dragging some fur-covered bags and throws them into the back of the cart. I feed the fire, pulling my cloak close.

  Night is falling by the time Egan gets the horse hitched to the wagon. Onyx, who is circling overhead, lands by the fire, stretching out long and resting his massive head on his claws.

  Moving closer to Onyx I lean on his side, waiting for my men, and trying to decide where we go from here. There’s still the barrier at the Midding Gate. It drove Onyx and the other dragons to the stables, despite having bonds. That means that even though I have magic through my bonds with my mates, I may not be able to pass the gate.

  There’s also the matter of the pirates. Were they driven to go through the Midding Gate because they, too, are powerless? If so, are they stuck living with us?

  My head is pounding by the time I hear the cart on the road. Rising, I wait for it to stop in the yard. Ciaran is awake, but even in the dim light I can tell that he is shaky and pale. His eyes skip all over, from me to the dragons, over the prisoners, and starting all over again.

  “What’s happening? Where’s my uncle? Why are my hands bound? Sage, honey, where are we?” Ciaran sounds like a lost child, and my heart clenches.

  With a gentle empathetic voice, Murphy responds, “Ciaran, I’m going to take you inside. Sage will follow soon, and then we’ll talk.”

  The prisoners are all sitting silently in the back of the cart. Probably due to Flynn and Liam following close behind. Cathmor reaches in and motions for the one who was conversing with us to come forward.

  He helps the bound man to the ground and leads him to the fire. As soon as the pirate is seated, Cathmor squats beside him.

  “What is your name? Why are you here?”

  “Name is Bjorn. We want dragon. Very rare. Much coin for scale, horn, claw.” The man keeps his focus on Cathmor, avoiding any eye contact with the dragons present.

  Casey flies out of Cathmor’s pocket, whips the man on the nose with her little tail, and then comes to sit on my lap.

  “Is baby dragon?”

  Taking the daisy that Casey conjures for me, I answer, “No, she’s very special.” Sticking the daisy in my hair, I huff. “I can’t allow you to hunt the dragons.”

  “They are not . . . enemy?” Bjorn seems to be hunting through his limited vocabulary.

  “No. They’re our friends and help us when needed.” I feel the need to stress again, “You can’t have any of the dragons.”

  Frowning, the man pulls out a book from his pocket. Running a finger down a page he stops, reads then looks up. “We have a pact with Báirseach. Long time. We come to get our due. We leave . . .” Again Bjorn flips through his book, searching. “We leave weapons. Is pact.”

  Jumping up, I speak as firmly as I can, “Your pact is out of date. You need to speak with the council. We have no need for your weapons, and I cannot allow you to harm the dragons.”

  Shaking his head fiercely, Bjorn returns to his native language, pounding his bound fists into his thigh in frustration. The other prisoners start speaking, too, and it’s obvious Bjorn is telling them what I’ve said.

  This continues on for a time until finally the day crashes in on me. “Enough! Nothing will get decided tonight. We need to talk to the council and debate all this. Right now, we are going to all get settled for the night. Tomorrow, we leave for Lámhach.”

  33

  Dragging my feet, I make my way to the shelter. Cathmor and Egan stay in the yard to get the prisoners settled, the dragons agreeing to keep watch over them. I don’t want to be outside and deal with the men I can hardly communicate with. Men that the Báirseach before me made some kind of pact with that hurt my dragons. I know it needs to be dealt with, but it’s not something I can do on my own.

  Staring at the wood door, I hesitate. Once I step inside, I’ll have to face Ciaran. My left eye twitches at the conversation to come. He appears to not know what’s going on. But can I trust that? His behavior in the days leading up to Samhain and all the weeks that followed, can it be blamed on a spell cast by Lennon?

  The latch releases easily when I push down, and I untie my cloak as I enter. Murphy is sitting with a mug at the rough table, Mori has a drop of tea formed in his paws and is sipping at it. I glance around, but Ciaran is nowhere to be found. Laying my cloak over the chair across from Murphy, I place both hands atop it and support my weight.

  “Where’s Ciaran?”

  Murphy spins the mug, takes a sip, then looks up at me. With a deep sigh, he replies, “I had him go lay down. He’s . . . not well.”

  Pulling the chair out, I flop down and lay my arms across the table, my fingertips brushing Murphy’s hands. “Does he remember anything?”

  “He was angry I was keeping him bound. He ranted and raved that it was all Lennon’s fault, and then . . .” Murphy snaps his fingers, “He went blank for a second. Then he looked at me confused and muttering. I think without the crystal’s influence, his mind is fighting to fin
d its way back. It’s sad to see him like that.”

  Murphy lays a hand over mine, rising and pulling me up with him. “Come lay down. It’s probably best if we get some rest, and tomorrow . . . tomorrow, we bring the council in. We have quite a story to tell them.”

  Laying my head on Murphy’s arm as he guides us to a bedroom, I relate what little I’ve learned about the pact made between the invaders and the last Báirseach.

  “That’s troubling. I know you’re worried and overwhelmed, Love. But Egan, Cathmor, and I will be there by your side. As will the dragons. I’m sure with the council’s help, we can come to a resolution.” Pressing me to sit on the bed, he kneels before me and unlaces my boots. I’m too tired to object or try to do it myself. “Rest, Love. As my mam says, ‘Everything will look better in the morning.’”

  The sound of murmured conversation wakes me in the morning. Flipping to my back, I’m aware that I’m the only one in the bed, the spot where Murphy had been sleeping is cold.

  Tossing back the covers, I search for my shoes with my toes, grimacing at putting day-old sweaty socks back on. Leaving my boots untied, I shuffle out to the main room to look for my pack for fresh clothes.

  Egan and Cathmor have the table set with bread and fruit, mugs of tea wafting fragrant hints of chamomile and honey—enticing me to sit down. Ciaran is slouched sullenly with a mug in his hand, staring at Cathmor.

  Egan brightens when he spies me shuffling to the table, “Morning, Mo Chroí. Did you sleep well?”

  Yawning, I cover my mouth and mutter. “Good morning, Egan. Morning Cathmor, Ciaran.” I take a seat between my two bondmates and reach for a mug of tea. “Where’s Murphy?”

  “He’s helping prepare the wagon. We’d like you to ask the dragons to fly us back. If we can ride and they can carry the wagon, we should return by lunch.” Cathmor puts an arm along the back of my chair and kisses the top of my head.