Oracle Dreams Trilogy

by Teri Barnett

  “There’s one thing, though, that I still haven’t been able to figure out about all of this,” Bethany began. “How did the Book of Eitel come to be on the Earth plane in the first place?”

  Maud finished her weaving and inspected the texture and construction of the display before her then turned back to Bethany. “When I was young, my father told me a story about his grandmother. She was an Eitellan who lived in fear of the day the High Priestess would demand her children. She stole the Book and hid it on the island where I now live. Do you remember when I told you my mother was from Earth?”

  Bethany nodded.

  “When she heard the stories, she feared the sect would become active again. It was she who took the Book and left it on Earth.”

  “And Elizabeth found it.” Bethany shook her head, amazed at the chain of events that had brought her to this point.

  Connor put down his cup. “It’s time I left.”

  “Where’s he going?” Zachariah asked.

  “He’s returning to Earth for a time. He needs to mend the fabric of his old life before he begins anew,” she explained.

  Connor stood and pulled her to her feet. They embraced. “Be sure and listen for him, Zachariah. He’ll be back soon,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

  Together, arm in arm, they made their way to the point of crossing. Reluctantly Bethany released her hold on him. Passing through the portal, he turned and waved. “I love you,” Bethany called. She stared for a long time into the passageway after he had gone.

  She finally turned around when Zachariah placed a hand on her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell him about the child?” he asked, his voice low.

  Bethany hugged her arms about her middle. “I didn’t want him to feel he couldn’t return to Earth if that’s what he wanted. But I will tell him, Zachariah.” She smiled sadly. “The next time he dreams.”

  Epilogue

  Bethany sat in front of the fire, contemplating the flames as they shifted about. Red, blue, orange—images formed, then disappeared again. She let her gaze wander around the dark room as the shadows reached out. A chill ran up her spine, a sense of foreboding filling her heart.

  “Connor, my love, will you ever return?” she wondered aloud. Eight months had passed since he’d left and still there was no sign of him. Bethany had stayed on for a while at Zachariah’s after Connor returned to Earth. She spent the time visiting with him and Maud and using the portal to communicate with her husband. She would have liked to return again to see what was delaying Connor but was too far along in her pregnancy to travel the distance safely.

  Don’t worry. He’ll be home as soon as he’s able…

  Suddenly, Bethany clutched her stomach as a sharp pain tore through her, taking her breath away. She shifted in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position.

  She stared back into the fire, welcoming its comfort, but longing for something more. Then, a dark image filled her mind. “No,” she whispered, fighting the vision that clouded her sight. “No!” She screamed the word this time, jumping from the chair.

  Abraham threw open his bedroom door and hurried to her. “What is it, Daughter? Is it time for the child to come?”

  Bethany fell to her knees, her eyes never leaving the hearth. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, rocking back and forth as she sobbed. “Sweet Mother. He’s gone, Papa.” She looked up into his face, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Connor’s dead.”

  “How can that be? Are you certain?”

  Bethany fell forward as another contraction wracked her body. Abraham helped her to her feet, guiding her into the bedroom. “I saw him. He was in bed. His friend was at his side,” she cried. “I watched his last breath, Papa. I saw his soul as it drifted away. I knew he wasn’t well when he left. I shouldn’t have let him go. What am I going to do?”

  Abraham hugged his daughter, tears welling in his eyes. “He needed to go to his home one last time. You couldn’t have prevented it, as much as I know you would’ve liked to.” He patted her stomach. “We’ll figure out what to do later. Right now, I think you need to concentrate on having this child.”

  He looked over and found Sarah standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “Is Mama all right?” she asked sleepily. “I heard her crying.”

  Abraham went to her side and knelt down so his eyes were level with hers. “She’s going to be fine, Butterfly. But right now, she’s going to have your little brother or sister.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I need you to go to Cinda the Birther and let her know it’s your mama’s time to deliver. Can you do that for me?”

  Sarah nodded, smiling. “Of course, I can.”

  Bethany moaned as another contraction came upon her. “Please hurry, Sarah.” She held her breath for a moment. “The pains are coming more quickly now.”

  For the remainder of the night, Bethany fought against the image of Connor’s death. Maybe she had misinterpreted it. Maybe he was fine and she was only seeing someone else who happened to look like her husband. But deep down, Bethany couldn’t deny it and knew what she had seen was true. She recalled Zachariah’s words from the hall of the Akashic Records. “He leaves the Earth plane in 1875.” 1875. That was the year she found him and the year he returned. Grief ripped through as deep as the pain of giving birth.

  Bethany struggled to relax, knowing it would ease the babe’s delivery, but it was to no avail. With Cinda at her side, the cries of a new child finally echoed throughout the house in time to greet the rising sun. The Birther presented the baby to Bethany and fussed over it for a time, making certain all was well before she left.

  “I’ll be back tonight to check on you,” Cinda called as she left the room.

  Abraham and Sarah waited at the doorway and, as the woman left, rushed to Bethany’s side. “He’s a fine-looking boy,” Abraham said proudly. “Looks a bit like me, don’t you think? Except for that head of black hair, that is.”

  “Oh, Mama, he’s beautiful. What are we going to call him?”

  Bethany caressed Sarah’s cheek with the back of her hand. “What do you think of Ian, in memory of our friend.”

  “Ian.” Sarah considered the name. “I like it just fine.” She leaned into the baby’s face. “Hello, Ian. I’m your sister Sarah.”

  Bethany smiled, touched by her daughter’s words. But the smile quickly faded. “Oh, Papa.”

  Abraham sat down on the bed. “Sarah, it’s time for you to get some rest now. You can visit with your mama and new brother later.”

  Sarah made a face and started to argue but Abraham gave her a hard stare. She shrugged her shoulders, kissed everyone, then scurried off to her room.

  Returning his attention to Bethany, he took her hand into his. “I’m so sorry, Daughter. But I know you’ll manage just fine the same as before when you lost Joseph.” He shook his head. “I only wish there was something I could do.”

  “Your being here with me is a comfort, Papa. Thank you.”

  Hearing a soft knock at the front entry, Abraham rose to answer the door. Bethany lay back and fell into an exhausted sleep, nuzzling her new son in the crook of her arm. She stirred when she felt one side of the bed lower, as if someone were sitting next to her. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  “I must be dreaming,” she murmured to the baby. “It looks like your father is here with me.” She closed her eyes again, a single tear running down her cheek. “Sweet Mother, isn’t it enough that you have my husband and my heart? Please don’t torment me so.”

  “She’s not, my love.”

  Bethany’s eyes flew open. “Connor! B-but, how?”

  He reached out and caressed her cheek, then smiled at his son. “May I?” he asked, holding his arms out.

  Mutely, Bethany handed the child over. “I saw you die,” she whispered, overcome with tears. “I saw your soul leave your body.”

&nb
sp; “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. You have to believe I wanted to desperately, but there was such pain.” He closed his eyes tightly. “It felt like my gut was being torn open. I couldn’t get out of bed and spent most of my time not even knowing what was going on around me.”

  “Oh, Connor,” Bethany whispered, her voice ragged.

  “Yesterday was real strange, though. The pain turned into a fog and shrouded my entire being. The next thing I knew, I felt myself lifting off the bed. I saw a bright white light and headed toward it. I thought maybe it was the portal.” Connor smiled warmly at Bethany. “Then I was stopped by a woman. Before I knew what was happening, she escorted me to your door. When she left, I found this sitting on the ground next to me.” Connor held out a basket, offering it to her.

  Bethany peered into the basket. Her eyes filled with tears and she smiled at her husband.

  It was filled with Paran’s Love.

  www.teribarnett.com

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I’m grateful for the Indiana Writers’ Workshop. Your critiques and support make every book I write possible. And also to all my grandchildren, who inspire me to tell the stories and keep on creating.

  To my sons, Aron and Daniel.

  You are the best and I’m grateful

  to be sharing this journey with you.

  From the molten depths

  of the earth,

  through a portal of

  jewel green water,

  the goddess rises.

  She speaks

  and her thick, honeyed voice

  penetrates the heavy veil

  of cool clear liquid.

  She smiles

  and grants magic

  to those

  she would love.

  -tb

  Prologue

  Tintagel, Cornwall, Isle of Great Britain

  November 865 A.D.

  “‘Tis a fine night for a child to be born,” Manfred cu Llwyr whispered, lost in thought as he warmed himself before the robust fire which burned brightly there. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he strode to the thick oak and iron door that led outside.

  Opening it with a loud scrape, he made his way down the unheated corridor. As he moved, his body cast shadows tall and thin before him from the glow of torches mounted high on the wall. The straw scattered about the stone floor for warmth and cleanliness offered a muffled crackle beneath his feet.

  Once out of doors, he rubbed his hands together and raised his eyes to the sky. On the horizon, the setting sun cast a red glow and turned the gray winter clouds to indigo. Manfred sighed and his breath hung in the air before him.

  He stopped near another fire—one of many lit this night in celebration of the feast of Samhain—and leaned against the timber and stone wall of the keep. He looked out past the fence—hand-hewn stakes of wood sunk deep in the ground—surrounding his burh. A fine mist hovered about the treetops, its long fingers beginning to touch the ground.

  It all belonged to him. As far as the eye could see, from the lush green rolling hills to the thick forests shaded dark by the coming night. The sharp tang of the sea, not quite a mile away, rose on the wind and tickled his nose.

  The Samhain bonfires scattered along the hillsides broke the shroud of mist and night. His churls would soon be starting the dedication of animal sacrifices to the gods, goddesses, and denizens of the Otherworld. It was their sincere belief these offerings would cause the deities to look upon the people favorably and see them safely through the coming winter.

  He hoped their prayers would be heard, thankful the portents hadn’t indicated a harsh winter on the way. If this had been the case, a human sacrifice would have been in order. And though it would’ve been his duty to see it through, he was loath to take a life.

  Manfred’s “new way of thinking” was a constant point of contention between himself and the High Council of Bards, Ovates, and Priests. It was even worse with his twin brother, Eugis, who saw Manfred’s beliefs as a threat to their very way of life.

  A woman’s scream pierced the growing darkness and Manfred swung around. He let his breath out slowly, clenching his fists until his nails dug deep in the callused flesh. Nestled deep inside the hall in their bedchamber, his wife was laboring to bring forth their first child. He unclenched his hands and cast a log on the fire in front of him. Silently, he sent a prayer to Nuada for Rhea’s safety.

  By the gods, he was fearful of losing her. She had come into his life like a bright shining light, at a time when he thought love was perhaps beyond his grasp, and she enchanted him. She was truly a child of the hills, with her thick black hair and freckled cheeks. She wove wondrous stories of meetings with the Tuatha de Danaan themselves, the very fays who lived in these emerald hills! And who was he to dispute her? He’d seen enough of magic in his own life to know it existed.

  Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the little boy approaching. The child stopped before him and tugged at Manfred’s long white tunic. The copper and stone adornments chimed together. The movement startled him, and he glanced down. He’d forgotten he was still wearing the heavily embroidered and jeweled priest’s robes. As the Chief Dyrrwed Bard for his clan, he should be at the Samhain celebration now, reciting the stories of the Ulster Men, Cu Chulainn, and the other heroes and deities.

  Ah, but he couldn’t leave Rhea’s side for long as she struggled with the birth. If only for his own sense of well-being, he needed to be close to her. Too many women died while laboring. He would stay and make certain the midwife and priestess in attendance drew upon all of their powers to keep his wife safe from harm while the baby fought its way into the world. And a fight it truly was. Already a full day had passed and still the babe remained in its mother’s womb.

  “Dylan mac Connall. What is it?” Manfred squatted down to be eye level with the boy. “What can I do for you this evening?”

  The boy didn’t answer, but only watched the older man.

  “I would’ve thought you’d be at the feast with the others.” Manfred smiled as he looked at the child. Hair as black as the night sky and eyes to match, the boy was so serious for one who’d seen only four winters. But he’d always been that way. Even as a wee babe he didn’t cry out or raise his voice. He only seemed to look out on creation with sober curiosity.

  Dylan pursed his lips together, then spoke. “I told Da I needed to be here with you and the Lady. He said it would be all right, as long as I didn’t get in anyone’s way.” Dylan’s father, Fox mac Connall, was the leader of the neighboring lands and Manfred’s oldest and most trusted friend.

  Manfred smiled again and ruffled the boy’s hair. “But the festivities have only just begun. Have you had your fill of our good cook Hazel’s honeycakes so soon?” It was just like the child to do something out of the ordinary, the opposite of what everyone else was doing. Single-minded though he was, he was a good boy and a more-than-able student, well on the path to becoming a powerful Dyrrwed priest. Already, Manfred had been able to teach him a hundred verses and tales of their people, the Dumnonii. Of course, there were literally thousands more, but so far, the boy had memorized each and every one he’d been taught. No small feat for a child his age.

  Dylan shrugged. “I was at the festival, warming my hands near the fire, when I heard someone calling my name.” He pulled his hands up inside of the thick brown woolen cloak he wore as if, with the telling of the tale, the small fingers remembered how cold they had been. “I walked into the woods, down the path where the two tall stones stand watching the stream. I heard my name again.” His eyes met Manfred’s. “Then I saw a lady there.”

  Manfred grinned. “And what sort of lady did you find?”

  “A wet one, Sir. She was just lying there under the water, smiling up at me. Then she started to talk, and her voice sounded like music. She told me I should be here, with you.” He
pulled his hands out of his cloak and tossed a green pebble up into the air with one hand and caught it with the other. When he showed his palms, the stone had vanished. He pushed his black hair out of his eyes and looked at Manfred again.

  Manfred’s grin faded. He took the boy by the shoulders and looked at him carefully, judging the truth of what was said. Dylan’s gaze never wavered. Manfred ran a hand through his silver streaked bright red beard. Had he heard correctly? Had the raven goddess of the water, Morrigu herself, spoken to the boy? Manfred sucked in his breath. It truly is a special night.

  At that moment, to his left, one of his churls came lumbering out of the barn, wiping his hands on a bit of ragged cloth. To his right, the midwife appeared at the door to the keep, a soft bundle in her arms.

  “The new foal has arrived, my Lord. She’s as white as a fair summer cloud, she is.” The churl grinned broadly, displaying two rows of uneven teeth, then turned and walked back to the barn.

  “An’ I ‘ave more news fer ye, Sir. Yer child has finally come.” The midwife placed the babe in his arms and pulled the blanket away from the small face. As she did so, a hawk flew overhead, crying to the night. The midwife jumped, then made a quick sign for protection.

  Manfred stared up at the bird and a shiver ran along his spine. All the signs were present: The appearance of a goddess. The birth of a white foal at the same moment as the babe. The hawk…

  It could only mean one thing. The child would be triply blessed by the gods and goddesses, with the powers of healing at its command.

  “How is Lady Rhea? Did she fare well?” he asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

  “Oh, Sir, she done jest fine.” The midwife smiled kindly. “She’s a-sleepin’ already.”

  He looked at the sky again as the hawk continued to circle overhead, now joined by what appeared to be a large raven. “Morrigu,” he whispered.

  Sparks from the fire lifted with the wind and mixed with the stars. Still the birds flew steady. When Manfred realized the midwife was still speaking to him, he shook his head to clear it. “What was it you said?”