Oracle Dreams Trilogy

by Teri Barnett

  He learned back then that Kate had promised Manfred to watch over Dylan and Maere in case anything happened to Dylan’s father or himself. Unfortunately, she had not made it in time to rescue Maere as well, but she had kept Dylan safe in those first few years when he was still a boy and vulnerable.

  And, as a boy, he’d believed Morrigu watched over him. Now, though, he knew the truth. It had always been Kate. Kate had taught him everything she knew and he’d been a good student, learning to commune with the trees and command knowledge from them.

  He sighed and moved to the chair across from her. If he didn’t embark on his quest to get Maere and plan for vengeance against Eugis cu Llwyr, he might not make it in time. After Morrigu had given him the knowledge she had also given her blessing. Not that her blessing mattered to him as much as Kate’s did. Dylan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Tell me. How did you know?”

  Kate waved his question away and folded up the quilt, setting it on the table next to her. “Be careful of Morrigu. She may be an eternal beauty, but she is still a goddess whose notions change with the wind.”

  He blushed under the whiskers he’d yet to scrape off. It hadn’t been quite an hour since he’d been with Morrigu. His cheeks burned brighter as he thought of the intimacies they’d shared.

  “You must think clearly as you begin your journey to find Maere. Do not dwell on thoughts of the flesh, especially when it comes to that one.”

  Dylan knew Kate honored the goddess, but he also knew she’d had her issues with Morrigu in the past.

  “She gave me her blessing to seek my revenge against Eugis.”

  “Is that what you want from this lifetime?” Kate shook her head. A long strand of gray hair fell out of its bun and touched her wrinkled cheek. “No wonder Morrigu sought you. Though she can be a loving goddess, she feeds on war and hatred. Why do you think she took you and taught you the ways of the flesh when you passed eighteen summers? Let this need for revenge go. Invite the light into your spirit.” She tilted her head and her eyes met his. “You yourself have seen how dangerous the lure of evil is.”

  He jumped to his feet and roughly shoved his chair against the table. “We’ve had this discussion more times than I can count, Kate.” He ran a hand through his black hair and turned his back to her. “Why do you think I was spared that night? Why do you think I survived Eugis’s evil plot? So I could live a quiet life and pretend I never saw the agony in my father’s eyes and in the eyes of Manfred and Rhea as they were slaughtered?” He spun back around. “Was I spared so I could simply forget Maere as she screamed for me—as Eugis dragged her off? He slammed his fist into his palm. “I tell you, Kate, this is something I will do. Something I must do.”

  Kate bowed her head for a moment then looked up at him again. “I won’t fight with you, Dylan. You’re a grown man. I believe I’ve taught you well, in spite of your temper.” She gestured toward his room. “Go on, son, and pack your things.”

  Dylan nodded, then made his way to the rear of the cottage and pushed back the long curtain that served as the door to his room. Walking over to his desk, he straightened the parchments into a neat pile and checked the ink stoppers to be certain they were stuck tightly in the jars. He crouched down and pulled a rough linen sack from under the mattress.

  He opened the bag and began stuffing his clothing into it when he saw a flash of white. He tipped the bag upside down. A length of cloth with a gold-and-garnet brooch pinned to it came tumbling out. He slowly picked it up. Tears gathered in his dark eyes again as he buried his face in the fabric, the agony of losing Maere renewed.

  He took a deep breath then stuffed it back into the sack, followed by a tunic, two pairs of stockings, a pair of sandals, and the parchments. When he had gathered everything he owned, he stood and wrapped his mantle over his shoulder.

  Dylan took one last look around the room, his room. How was he ever going to repay Kate for everything she’d done for him? She’d taken in a sorry boy and helped him grow into a man. He went to his desk and pulled out a parchment, one he’d been working on for many nights now. He hadn’t realized until now that it would become his farewell gift to this wise and kind woman. He picked the sack up and left the room.

  “Kate? I have a gift for you.”

  “I love presents.” The old woman clapped her wrinkled and work worn hands. “What is it?”

  “You are an impatient one, aren’t you?” Dylan said, with a smile. He placed the manuscript on the table in front of her.

  “Oh, Dylan. Your work is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It’s full of grace and meaning.” She pointed at the inked and painted interlacings of colorful animals devouring each other as they traveled around the page. In the center was a raven, its head held high, as if it dared anyone to challenge it. “It is as though the goddess herself guided your hand as you drew.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose, but I didn’t know it at the time I was painting. I tell you, Kate, the images come to my mind and I have to draw them. I’ve tried to ignore them, but they threaten to drive me to madness if I do.”

  Kate nodded, her pale eyes glittering. “I understand. It’s part of your gift.” She gently placed the parchment on the table then looked up at Dylan. “I have something for you as well.” She smiled as she handed him the thick colorful quilt.

  “Ah, Kate, I am honored. It’s a beautiful blanket.”

  “It will keep you warm on those cold nights on the trail. And when you rescue Maere, you can wrap her in this blanket and know that there is magic and goodness watching over you both.

  Dylan smiled for a moment, then grew serious. “I’ve seen Maere, in my dreams. Some nights, I send my spirit to her dream world, but I never knew where she was until Morrigu revealed the truth to me. She’s living at St. Columba’s Abbey in Glastonbury. It’s only a week’s walk from here.”

  His teacher smiled proudly. “Good work.” She poked him in the center of the chest with her finger. “I’d wish you luck, but I want you to remember we make our own luck.”

  Dylan leaned down and wrapped his arms around Kate. After a few moments, he pulled back. Avoiding the old woman’s keen gaze, he made a point of checking his sack to make sure he had everything he needed. If he did look at her, he would surely weep like a little boy. Clearing his throat, he stuffed the blanket into the bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He walked to the door and reached for the latch, then turned back around to face her. “To say thank you is not nearly enough,” he whispered.

  “Yes, it is. I know what’s in your heart. You’ve been like a son to me and I’ll always be thankful for the time we’ve had together.” Kate clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ve a last bit ‘o wisdom for you. though, Dylan mac Connall. You’ve been hidden away in the woods for a good many years. Your magic is untested. At nearly twenty-two winters you may think you know everything, but you don’t. Don’t forget: You are mortal.”

  With a nod, he turned to leave.

  Sweet Danu, I know.

  If he had been anything but mortal, he’d have been able to prevent those tragic deaths. He’d have had magic enough to pummel Eugis into the ground and rescue those he loved.

  Would he have enough magic now? Dylan set his mouth in a firm line as he gazed out past the trees and east toward the horizon, toward Glastonbury.

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter 5

  Maere sat in bed, her head resting against the whitewashed wall, the Gospel of St. Mark spread across her lap. She stared at the ceiling as if she would find relief from the evil plaguing her in the uncomplicated criss-cross of hewn wood. The exposed timber rafters slanted high and disappeared into the flat boards and rushes which formed the roof of her small room. There were times she wanted to follow them and disappear as well.

  A slight draft crept in from under the door and the candle on the bedside table flickered, sending elongate
d shadows dancing across the walls. An even stronger draft blew in through cracks in the window shutters. The flame sputtered, then grew strong again. Maere gently closed the precious volume—only one of two copies the convent owned—and placed it on the table. Where was Seelie? The girl should have been back by now.

  Maere leaned forward and pulled her woolen shawl up and around her shoulders. Why in heaven’s name had she let the girl talk her into such foolishness? She never should have agreed to lie. Seelie shouldn’t be cavorting around at night. And especially not with a monk! What would become of her soul? Not to mention Maere’s own soul for lying.

  The worry ate at her insides and made her head hurt. She picked up a cup of water from the table and took a sip. A sound from outside startled her, making her spill the water onto her nightgown. Her ears pricked up, setting all her senses on edge. A muffled scratching was coming from outside the window.

  Maere’s first thought was to investigate, but she hesitated when a second thought entered her mind. What if it was him—the Devil himself—come to claim her for helping Seelie lie? Then she heard the noise again, followed by a woman’s voice, weak and barely discernible.

  “Maere?” A pause. “Maere?”

  She dropped her shawl and hurried to the shutters. She pulled them open and peered outside. There was no moon to light the grounds and she strained her eyes to see with what feeble light the candle could offer. There, huddled in a tight ball under the window, was Seelie. Maere reached out her hand to her friend. Gingerly, Seelie stood and leaned through the open window into the room. With Maere’s help, she made it through the opening, falling to the floor once inside.

  “Sweet Mother,” Maere cried. Seelie’s habit was torn and covered with dirt. Her eyes were angry purple bruises, almost swollen shut. Blood seeped through her clothing, staining the lower half of her habit. Maere dropped to her knees, frantic. “Seelie! Who did this to you?”

  Seelie turned her eyes away and stared blankly at the wall, whimpering. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her skin clammy.

  “I’ll go for help.”

  With a firm grip that belied her condition, Seelie grabbed Maere’s arm. “No,” she whispered. “They can’t know. I don’t want them to know.”

  Maere’s eyes moved frantically over her friend. Seelie’s face was growing paler and paler as the blood continued to flow bright red. How was she going to make it stop? And why wouldn’t Seelie say who had attacked her? Oh God, no, she thought, as her entire being filled with horror. “It was the monk, wasn’t it?”

  “I had no idea,” Seelie murmured. “No idea at all.” Her eyes fluttered, then closed. “He was so handsome.”

  “Handsome? That’s all you can say?” Maere raged, her voice low. She waved her hand. “He’s all but killed you, girl, and you can only talk about how handsome he is?”

  “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have tempted him.” Seelie let out a ragged sigh. “He told me I was an evil woman to lure him away from the monastery and I should be punished. I should have left when I had the chance. Before—” Seelie began to sob.

  “Oh, Seelie. Is that what he told you?” Maere asked, incredulous. “You’re not evil.” Maere’s whole body shook and she looked up, fighting to control the anger roiling inside of her. She wanted to run out into the night and find him. She wanted to show the others what he’d done to her friend. She wanted to see him punished for the deed. Maere swallowed back the bitter taste for vengeance that threatened to shatter her composure. She must tend to her friend right now. There’d be time enough later to deal with the man.

  “Maere?”

  “Aye?”

  “I can’t feel my body.” Seelie coughed, hard. Bright red blood trickled down her lips, staining them the color of summer berries. “I fear he’s killed me.” As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Seelie’s head rolled to one side. Her eyes lost their focus and went blank.

  “Seelie?” Maere gently shook her. “Seelie?”

  Seelie’s eyes remained blank.

  “Dear Lord, no,” Maere whispered. She leaned back on her heels and, in that moment – as rage and anger like she’d never known washed over her – something broke loose inside of her. She clutched her stomach as it crackled fiery hot inside her belly. She jerked when it traveled down the length of her legs, up her spine, and out to her hands. It reached her brain and flashed brightly in her mind’s eye, blinding her for an instant. The top of her head tingled and hurt and her hands burned.

  Instinctively, Maere reached for Seelie and clasped her friend to her breast. She placed one hand over the young woman’s eyes, another on her friend’s belly. The space around them glowed green, then white. A strong breeze which seemed to come from the very center of the room whipped the bed linens. The candle fell over and burned itself out. Bursts of light shot out of Maere’s fingertips and into Seelie’s body. The jolt lifted them both from the floor. Another burst. Another jolt. A loud sucking sound filled the small cell. Seelie’s mouth fell open and the light entered her, leaving the room dark.

  Seelie stirred and slowly raised a hand to her head. “M-Maere?” she whispered.

  Maere jumped, startled out of the light trance she’d fallen into. She studied Seelie’s face. The bruises had vanished. She looked at the floor. The blood was gone. Seelie’s torn habit was the only evidence of the ordeal. Maere’s hand flew to her mouth. Sweet Jesus! What had happened?

  What have I done?

  Before Maere could even begin to think, a loud knock sounded at her door. She quickly grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it over Seelie. The door to the cell flew open. Abbess Magrethe, followed by several other sisters, pushed their way in. “We heard a terrible noise and saw a bright light coming from under the door.” She looked around the small room. “What’s been going on in here?”

  “If I only knew, dear Mother,” Maere murmured. Her face felt so hot and feverish. “I swear I would be most happy to tell you.”

  The abbess stared at the younger woman. “I beg your pardon?”

  “What I meant to say was—” Maere glanced around the room. “Seelie here, she tripped and fell when we were studying. She knocked herself out and is just now coming to.” She took in the candle on its side. What was becoming of her? The lies were beginning to flow so easily. “The light you saw must have been from the candle when she knocked it over.” Maere stood and pulled her friend to her feet, careful to keep the blanket tight about her, lest they see the damaged clothing. Maere gave Seelie over to the care of Sister Jane, who helped the novitiate out of the room. The other sisters followed. Except Magrethe.

  She circled Maere, considering her. With a practiced eye, she again looked around the cell. “True, the candle is lying on its side.” She righted it and relit the wick with the candle she was carrying. She touched the spilled beeswax and it stuck to her finger. She turned to face Maere. “I’m going to ask you a simple question. I expect an honest answer.

  Maere bobbed her head. “Of course, Mother.”

  “Have you been practicing magic?”

  Maere’s eyes widened. She stumbled back a step as her knees threatened to buckle. “N-no. Never. Why would you ask me such a thing?”

  Magrethe sat on the edge of the narrow cot and patted the spot next to her. “Sit by me.” Maere complied. “The signs are here, girl. I’ve seen it before, the lure of the Devil. His empty promises catch the eye of a young novitiate. She seeks to strike a bargain for power and the Devil is all too happy to assist.” Magrethe shrugged her slender shoulders and shook her head. “Often, it’s nothing more than idle curiosity.” She glanced at her charge. “Given your heritage, I simply had to inquire.”

  “My heritage?” Maere asked. “What of my heritage? What haven’t you told me, Mother? Is there something about my mother and father that I should know? Is it because I am Keltoi?”

  “Too many questions for this late
hour.” Magrethe’s blue eyes darted back and forth. “Besides, there’s no need to delve into the past, girl.”

  “But I truly want to know,” Maere said softly. “Perhaps if you told me everything you know it would help me to remember.”

  “You’ve been told of the Vikings who murdered your mother and father. And you know your kin were of the Keltoi tribe Dumnonii, that they practiced the old religion.” Magrethe stood. “We’ve discussed their heathen ways, and how your fine Uncle Eugis brought you here to us so you could be raised a Christian.”

  Maere started to speak, but the abbess raised a hand, her mouth set. “I will not discuss it further. As I said, none of it is important anymore. You know what you need to know. What matters is that you’ve grown into a fine God-fearing woman. Now, I’ll ask you again to tell me. What really happened here tonight?”

  Maere swallowed the ache in her throat, forcing down the other questions she wanted to ask. It would do no good to push the abbess any further. Despite her diminutive size, she was a strong stubborn woman who rarely, if ever, budged after making up her mind. “I’ve already told you, Mother.” She fidgeted with the sleeve of her gown, then focused her eyes on the dark silhouette of the tree line beyond her window. “Seelie fell.”

  “Well, then.” Magrethe slowly let her breath out. “It’s late. I won’t bother you about it anymore tonight.” She turned to leave the room.

  When she reached the door, Maere called out to her. “Mother? The things you said last night about the Devil and my dreams have been on my mind.” The image of Seelie’s still form, covered in blood, flashed before her eyes. She blinked and looked at the abbess. The surge of power that had shot through her body was still vibrating within her. “I think it might be best if I did enter into a fast and meditation. Perhaps the Blessed Virgin can help me through my nightmares.”

  “I’m most happy to hear you say that,” Magrethe said with a smile. “Fasting and meditation are the gateway to truth.” She folded her hands in front of her.