by Pandora Pine
“How did he die?” the teenager asked, his curiosity piqued.
Carter shivered in the warm July sunshine. He knew well the legend of Fionn Ò Ciardha and how he met his fate on a day long ago not far from this very spot.
“’Twas during the battle of Boyne Bog in 1433. A rival Irish clan attacked the castle when Fionn refused to honor a marriage contract signed by his father when Fionn was but a lad.”
“Sounds ass-backwards, parents arranging marriages for their kids,” he huffed.
Kelly frowned at his disrespectful tone. “However backward it might have been, Fionn was well past the age when young men were to settle down and wed. He refused every woman offered to him stating he would know his Anam Cara when they met.”
“What’s that, some kind of lucky charm?” the mouthy teenager asked.
“It’s the ancient Irish word for soulmate. It technically translates into soul friend.” Kelly sighed, looking over at Carter who was rolling his eyes at the boy.
“How romantic,” the mouthy New York mother sighed.
It was the most romantic thing Carter ever heard. He felt the same way. When he met his own Anam Cara he would know it instantly. Problem was, like Fionn, he had yet to meet him. He was twenty-six years old and always figured he would be happily married by now.
“So, to continue with the story, it was the height of battle. Fionn was surrounded by the bodies of men he had slain in combat when something on the rise of the hill caught his attention.” Kelly halted the story dramatically and pointed to the high point of the hill near the ruined third chimney.
“What did he see?” the boy asked, seemingly engrossed by the story.
Kelly smiled enigmatically and leaned closer to the group of enraptured tourists. “His Anam Cara,” she pitched her voice lower before continuing, “his soulmate at long last, seeming to appear out of thin air. How else could he have gotten to the top of the hill during battle?”
“He?” the New York father sneered.
“Soulmates come in all shapes, sizes and genders,” she said politely through gritted teeth. “At that time, the castle followed the ancient Celtic gods and goddesses. Same-sex relationships were not banned by that religion.”
“How did he know that man on the hill was his soulmate?” Cadence asked.
“Love tells. Plus, the mystery lover was wearing one of the three jewels of Ireland.”
A memory tickled at the back of Carter’s mind. He could’ve sworn his mother told a bedtime story about the magical jewels. Looking up at Cadence, he saw she recognized the story as well.
“The three jewels were brought to Ireland by ancient travelers, nearly 2000 years before the birth of Christ,” Kelly said in a near-whisper.
“You mean like diamonds and rubies?” the New York mother asked.
“Legend says the first is cat’s eye, the second obsidian and the third was moonstone. None of those stones are native to Ireland.”
Carter swore he felt his medallion start to warm against his skin. The temperature was a balmy sixty-four degrees and his moonstone was tucked safely beneath his shirt. There was no way the air temperature was warming the stone. Fishing his hand down the neck of his tee, he palmed the moonstone, feeling its warmth seep into his hand.
“Those aren’t jewels,” the loudmouthed teen boys scoffed.
“Of course they are,” Cadence said. “Legend has it moonstone can lead you to your soulmate. The stone is gorgeous and pearlescent, just like the moon.”
Kelly nodded gratefully. “It was said the mystery lover was wearing the Gealach when he appeared on the hill.”
“Which of the three jewels is that?” Cadence asked, eyeing Carter who was rubbing the heel of his hand against the medallion.
“The Gealach was made of moonstone. It was passed down from Lord to lady in every known generation of the Ò Ciardha family.”
“So what happened when Fionn saw his soulmate on the hill?” Cadence asked.
“Did they kiss?” the mouthy New York kid made exaggerated smooching sounds.
Kelly shook her head sadly. “Fionn started forward intent on getting to his love, while the battle swirled around him. With his attention on the hill rather than the enemy, he was ambushed from behind and struck down.”
“Ohhhh,” the tour group gasped.
Carter could feel tears start in the back of his eyes and Cadence slung an arm around his back to comfort her brother. This was always their least favorite part of the story. Carlyle McCann had a way of telling stories about Fionn that made him come to life. Telling the tale of his death after so richly bringing him to life was hard to absorb.
“Did he make it to his soulmate?” the New York mother asked.
“No. He yelled something just before the fatal blow was struck and fell to the ground dead,” Kelly whispered, fighting back her own tears.
“What did he yell?”
“No one knows for sure. It was the greatest mystery of all. Irish scholars fought about it for years, but no one could ever come to a definitive answer.”
“What happened to his Anam Cara?” Cadence asked. “I’ve heard the story of Fionn’s last battle many times, but our father never mentioned a long lost love on the hill and a dying declaration.”
“Legend says he disappeared as mysteriously as he appeared. He was there one moment and simply gone the next.”
“Witchcraft?” the New York dad asked and crossed himself.
“Shape shifter?” the son asked, excitedly.
“No one knows for sure,” Kelly said.
“What’s the symbol on his grave?” Cadence asked, bending low to brush at the yellowish lichen obscuring the design.
Carter wasn’t sure how he knew, but he’d bet a year’s salary the symbol on the gravestone matched his moonstone medallion.
“It’s a Celtic knot intertwined with a heart. No one is certain of the origin of the design and it is not seen anywhere else in Ireland but on Fionn’s grave.”
Carter felt like someone struck him. Kelly described his moonstone medallion exactly. He wrapped his arm more tightly around his sister for support.
“It is said the Gealach bears the same design,” Kelly added.
“What happened to it? Is it in a museum somewhere?” the mother asked.
“It disappeared when Fionn fell,” Kelly said, sadly.
“Ohhhh,” the group sighed.
“Disappeared how?” Carter managed to ask, starting to feel faint.
“Fionn’s men wanted to bury it with their fallen leader, but no one could find it. It is said they searched high and low and assumed the McRoths carried it off with them as a spoil of victory.”
Carter knew exactly where it was. The McRoths may have taken Fionn’s life, but they hadn’t looted the moonstone. The lost Jewel of Ireland was resting against his jack-hammering heart.
“It is said Fionn’s ghost wanders the grounds looking for his lost Anam Cara. Legend has it he will be reunited with his one true love when his soulmate traces the marking upon his stone.”
The mouthy New York teenager bent down, the fingers of his right hand traced the shape. “Guess I’m not his true love,” he laughed.
“No, I am,” Carter muttered as if in a trance while he watched the other members of the New York family trace marking.
“What?” Cadence asked. She shook his arms startling him back to the present.
“Hmm?” Carter asked.
“You looked a million miles away,” she said, concerned.
More like five hundred years. “I’m okay, just a bit jetlagged,” he lied.
“What do you think? Should I try it? See if I’m Fionn’s soul friend?” Cadence laughed.
“Yeah, try it,” Carter urged, knowing full well she wasn’t Fionn’s soulmate.
Cadence lovingly traced the knot on the stone and bent to press a kiss against it. “Rest in peace, my handsome warrior. Know you are never forgotten and always loved,” Cadence whispered.
“T
his isn’t the Blarney Stone,” Carter teased.
“I’ve been half in love with him for most of my life. You had better believe I didn’t come all this way to leave without a kiss.” Cadence hugged her brother. “I’ll give the two of you a moment alone,” she winked and moved off toward the stone mausoleum.
Kneeling down beside Fionn’s grave slab, Carter pulled the moonstone out through the collar of his shirt. Could this really be one of the lost jewels of Ireland? His thumb slid along the well-worn design, dipping to swirl over the heart. The motion failed to calm him as it always had done in the past. “How is it possible I think I’m your soulmate?” he whispered to the gravestone. “I mean it’s crazy, right? How can a guy born five hundred years and three thousand miles from here be your Anam Cara?”
Reaching out with his free hand, Carter brushed his right hand against the raised design on the stone. His fingers tingled as they rubbed over the rough, yellowish-gold lichen. His thumb traced over the skin-warmed moonstone talisman while his fingers ran over the exact design on the slab. “Fionn,” he whispered and vanished.
6
Carter blinked up at the sun and rubbed his eyes. Looking around from his position on the soft, dewy grass he saw the east side of Moone Castle, rather than Fionn’s centuries old grave marker. Instead of seeing crumbling chimneys and a curtain of ivy cascading down the walls, the castle was perfectly intact. All four chimneys stood bellowing grey wood smoke, rising to meet the sky. The dream was so real Carter could smell the acrid smoke.
He had never fainted before in his life. Maybe he was jetlagged and had fainted or fallen asleep and hit his head on Fionn’s grave. “Cadence won’t ever let me live this down,” he muttered to himself.
The screams of men and horses floated up to him. Alarmed, he scrambled to stand up and see what was going on. What he saw took his breath away. A battle was taking place outside the walls of the castle, about one hundred yards downhill from where he stood. The gate to Moone Castle stood open and more men with raised swords were pouring out, eager to join the fight.
Squinting at the bright sunlight glinting off swords, he couldn’t help but watch the battle unfold. With the number of enemy fighters clad in bright green woolen tunics, it was plain to see they easily outnumbered Moone’s soldiers, three to one. Hearing the screech of metal against metal brought him back to his senses.
“The Battle of Moone Bog,” Carter whispered incredulously. “This isn’t happening. How is this happening?” he rambled. His heart was pounding against his rib cage threatening to break free. “This isn’t real. I hit my head and knocked myself out. Cadence and I will have a laugh over this when I finally wake up.”
Satisfied what he was seeing was purely a delusion Carter turned his attention back to the battle below. The ground was littered with the dead and dying, some of whom were screaming for help, while others were screaming for their mothers. As unreal as it seemed he could smell the coppery stench of blood.
A tall, blond warrior caught his attention, roaring while fending off enemy blows with his sword. His face was fierce, snarling at his enemy. “Fionn,” Carter whispered.
It had to be him. He was easily the tallest man on the field. The combination of his great height and his straw-colored hair made him easy to identify. Even from a distance, he was gorgeous. Carter’s unconscious mind was doing one hell of a job imagining the perfect Fionn.
Staring awestruck at the giant warrior, Carter couldn’t help but be impressed when Fionn kicked out at his enemy’s foot and gave a vicious thrust with his sword, sending his foe crumbling to the ground. Carter could see the dead man’s blood staining the blade of Fionn’s sword.
What if this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination or a product of a knock to the head? What if this really was 1433? What if that beautiful man really was Fionn Ò Ciardha?
At that moment, the giant warrior looked up at him. Stumbling back a step, Carter realized the moonstone medallion which he still clutched in his left hand had grown too hot to hold any longer. Carter didn’t know how it was possible from this distance to know Fionn was looking at him, but he did. In the next moment he did something completely unexpected. The bloodied warrior broke into a smile.
As incredible as it seemed, this was real. Fionn was really smiling at him. He smiled back and lifted a hand to wave.
“MY HEART!” Fionn yelled, his voice carrying on the wind.
Appearing behind Fionn was a giant warrior, grimacing in glee, his sword at the ready.
“FIONN!” Carter yelled in warning, pointing to the soldier advancing on him. It was too late. The tip of the warrior’s sword thrust through his body. Carter saw Fionn’s smile turn to horror as he looked down at the sword tip protruding through his chest. Carter felt his own stomach turn, threatening to empty itself when the warrior pulled his sword out and kicked Fionn to the ground.
“Fionn, NO!” Carter screamed, fisting the now cold moonstone. His bellow was loud enough to draw attention from the combatants. “No,” Carter whispered, his voice hoarse. He traced the heart carved into the moonstone with his thumb and his world went dark.
7
“Fionn?” Carter gasped. He opened his eyes to see he was lying face down over the cold stone of Fionn’s funeral slab. He blinked a few times and turned to look up at the castle. It was once again in ruins, draped in ivy. He was back, if he had ever really been gone in the first place.
Checking himself over for injuries, Carter found none he could see. He ran his still trembling hands over his head, searching for lumps and bumps and any tell-tale signs of a concussion. He knew his name and what day it was, July 18, 2015. What the hell just happened?
Tears stung the back of his eyes. Whether it was real or a detailed hallucination, Fionn recognized him. Fionn smiled at him. The moment their eyes met, Carter knew he had found his Anam Cara and then watched him die. Scalding hot tears dropped from his eyes onto his tee shirt. Tracing his fingers over the carved letters of Fionn’s name, he unashamedly let his tears fall. “I’m so sorry, Fionn.”
“Well, there you are. You old romantic,” Cadence giggled. “You spent all your time with Fionn instead of checking out the rest of the graveyard. Wait, are you crying?”
“I’m fine,” he said with a tremble in his voice. “Dad told us so many stories about him and here we are and…”
“And you never got the chance to meet him. You know, it’s almost like I feel closer to him just being here. Do you feel closer to him?”
Closer than you know. “Yeah, a bit,” he panted, still trying to wrap his head around what happened.
Taking a closer look at her brother, Cadence noticed his wide eyes and sweaty, pale face. “Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“Yeah, fine. It must be the jetlag.” Convinced now what he saw wasn’t a ghost but Fionn Ò Ciardha in the flesh.
Reaching a hand down to pull Carter to his feet, Cadence said, “Come on, let’s go see the castle.”
Carter tucked the now cold moonstone back under his shirt. He shivered, realizing the stone was cold just like Fionn in death.
8
“What’s up with you? You haven’t been yourself since we visited Fionn’s grave,” Cadence said, slowing her pace to look up at the moon.
They had spent the evening at the Cock In The Heather, an Irish pub just down the street from the Fairy Hill Inn. They had a quiet dinner and a few glasses of Irish Ale before starting to walk back to the inn.
“Cadence, I…” he faltered, not sure how his sister would react to his crazy story especially as he wasn’t sure how to react to it himself. He had been lost in his head all day, trying to focus on memorizing everything he could remember about Fionn.
Linking her arm with Carter’s, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Tell me.”
Carter sighed and steeled his courage. His sister was either going to believe him or not. “Did you notice the similarity between my medallion and Kelly’s description of the Gealach?”<
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“No, I don’t think they’re similar at all. I think Dad found the real Gealach.”
Carter nodded. “I think so too. It’s too much of a coincidence that it disappeared for five hundred years until Dad found it on the castle grounds.”
“So, your weird mood has to do with the moonstone?” Her reaction sounded dubious.