by Mia Pride
The woman looked at Ceara’s honest green eyes and a beautiful smile spread across her face. “I am Elise,” she replied as she took Ceara’s hand and followed her over to the fire.
All three men looked on while Ceara and Elim’s wife talked quietly near the fire as if they were old companions, both with bright red hair that seemed to become part of the fire itself. “If women ruled the world,” Garreth said wryly, “there would be nay wars.” And he walked over to his wife, sitting next to her by the fire and wrapping an arm around her.
Liam grunted at Garreth, then shot a look of warning at Elim. “One wrong move, Elim, and I will not hesitate to protect my family.” With that, Liam walked over to Gwynneth’s blanket and sat down next to her, holding her hand while he blankly stared at her resting face.
Within two hours, Elise was in active labor and Elim sent his two companions away to notify the others of the situation. Liam said Elim’s people must stay away until daybreak. Elim was frantically holding the hand of his screaming wife and agreed instantly to Liam’s command. He was in no place to argue. Ceara was between Elise’s legs urging her to push while Elim sat behind her to support her back, gripping her legs behind the knees to help push her legs hard into her chest.
Garreth and Liam stood back, honoring the privacy of the moment while they stood watch over Gwynneth, who still showed no signs of waking. Though he seemed calm on the outside, he felt as if he were dying inside. What if Gwynn never woke up? What if she woke up with no memory? With every moment that passed into the night, Liam became more anxious, placing small kisses on her hands or lightly tapping her face, desperate for any sign of awareness.
Another hour had passed in the cold blue haze of the spring night with the sounds of Elise’s cries shattering the sky while Ceara soothingly whispered encouragement. Just when it seemed the woman would have no rest from her birthing pains anytime soon, one loud scream seemed to tear through the very fabric of the night, pulling an exclamation of surprise from Ceara and a gasp from Elim.
For one split second, the whole world went silent and Garreth stood up in shock, wondering what was happening, holding his breath. A loud cry filled the void. It was the cry of new life. A babe was wiggling and kicking in Ceara’s arms, covered in blood and mucus. Ceara smiled and handed the child over to the outstretched arms of the new mother, who was sobbing from a release of emotions as she gazed at the new life before her. Elim was stroking his wife’s sweat-drenched red hair as a tear rolled down his dirt-streaked face and dripped off the tip of his nose. “A lad,” he whispered up into the thick chill of the night sky, as if sending the announcement upward to the gods themselves. “Mo buachaill.”
Garreth walked over and handed them a linen blanket to wrap the babe in, protecting him from the cold of the night. With a grateful nod and tears in his eyes, Elim took the blanket and draped it over his new child as his wife sobbed into her new son’s thick black hair. It seemed that the rest of the world had stopped moving. Nothing existed beyond this wall of trees and brush in the wilds of the forest. Ceara was on her knees sharing in this intimate moment with a tear rolling down her face and her hands on her own babe growing within her womb.
Just then, Liam heard a moan come from across the fire. “Gwynn?” Liam questioned with a gasp. Her head turned slightly and her eyes fluttered open.
“Liam?” she tried to raise her head, but cried out in pain, cradling her head in her hands as she lay back down.
“You are alright, a chailín mo chroí,” Liam whispered as he stroked her hair, “You remember me, do you not?”
She saw the look of fear flash in his eyes and smiled reassuringly, “Of course, my love. Every single detail.” He hugged her gently while he rocked her in his arms, being careful not to touch the wound on the back of her head. She stiffened. “Wh-what happened?”
“Do you remember falling off Dana?”
“I did?” she looked up in startled confusion. “Nay, I remember feeling like my saddle was loose, and then nothing else. What happened?”
“Your saddle was loose. Somebody cut the leather straps so they would slowly tear as you rode Dana.” His voice was coarse and his teeth clenched, the tendon on the side of his jaw jumping.
“D-do you think it was Fiona?” Gwynn whispered as she felt the back of her head.
“I do, aye. I am very sorry, Gwynn…”
“Liam, none of this is your fault. I am alright now.” Just then, the crying infant in the background caught Gwynneth’s attention. As she struggled to look around for the source of the sound, she saw a red-headed woman holding an infant and a tall, lanky black haired man cradling the woman. “Did I miss something?”
Chapter 16
After two long days and nights of hard riding, Brocc and his score of warriors had finally settled in for the night. They had found no trace of the Aithech-tuatha or their leader, Elim. Too many reports had come in from travelers near Darini for him to dismiss them. After hearing the horror stories from other tuatha who had been raided by the new High King and his loyal followers after refusing to offer them support, Brocc wanted to get to them before they entered Darini territory.
The protection of his people was of utmost importance. Once night fell without so much as a glimpse of other fires burning or sounds differing from the usual hooting of owls, chirping of crickets, or the rustle of leaves, the warriors decided to save their energy for another day of searching. The full moon hung high in the chilly black sky, allowing a certain amount of natural light to guide the men as they set their fires and made camp, roasting a range of animals they had collected that day on the spits.
“We will ride the perimeter for one more day only,” Brocc announced to his warriors in the morning. “If we see nay sign of Elim, we must head back. I left most of our warriors to guard our hillfort, but I do not wish to be absent in the case of an attack.” All the warriors nodded in agreement.
It was barely dawn now; the neon orange sun was just waking up and stretching its rays over the horizon, illuminating the clouds that lazily floated in the breeze. He wanted to get started early, hoping to rise before any other group who may be camping in the woods. Once the world was up and moving with them, it would be harder to locate their target. “We will loop around, checking for any remains of fires that may have burned in the night. Perhaps we can catch them off guard.”
This excursion, though necessary, also served as a much-needed distraction for Brocc. Ever since his run in with Una at the market and the last blazing kiss he had placed upon her lips, his body burned for her. It was more than a physical ache. His entire being longed for Una. He had tried to get Una to listen to his plea, but she would not listen. How could he blame her? He was pleading for forgiveness for an act he did not even remember committing. An act that must have felt like the worst betrayal to her.
After months of convincing Una he was not interested in marrying Mealla, why would he share his bed with her, of all lassies, on the very night he lost Una? No amount of ale could make him lay with Mealla…only, apparently, that was untrue. Una would never forgive him and he could not blame her for it. How would he feel is she had lain with Collin?
The thought of Una sharing Collin’s bed every night while their child grew up calling him “papa” was more than Brocc’s heart could bear. A sudden feeling of icy dread flooded his veins. Was he too late?
“What have I done?” he whispered to himself. He knew that, no matter the cost, when he arrived back to Darini, he had to force her to hear him out and prove his love to her. She had made it clear enough: she wanted love or nothing. Though he had loved her from the start, his pride never allowed him to say the words. He had hoped his gestures would be enough. Once they were not, his stubbornness only increased and he refused to say the words he knew she wanted to hear out of spite. No more of this madness. Time was up and he would bear his soul to Una upon his return. He only hoped she could forgive his many mistakes, worst of all his apparent night with Mealla.
; Just as Brocc and his warriors were loading up their horses and preparing to head East, one of his scouts who had been sent ahead the night before came back panting with exhaustion. “My king! We have found a campsite! Everyone is asleep. We do not know how dangerous they are.”
“Tell me what you saw,” Brocc commanded as he rubbed fingers across his cleft chin.
“Well, there were three men and three women…and a babe.”
“A babe? Who would be traveling in the woods so far away from any tuath with a babe? Did they have a cart?” The scout shook his head and frowned. “Either they are a part of the Aithich-tuatha nomads we seek, or they need help. Either way, we shall find out. Good work, Kyle, lead the way.”
Kyle nodded and mounted his horse. “They are not far, my king. Just about half an hour’s ride to the East,” Kyle said as he pointed the way. The sun was still rising, supplying a dim light to guide them toward the campsite. Brocc and twenty warriors followed Kyle, each armed with spears, swords, daggers, and large oval red painted shields.
Not before long, Kyle cleared his throat and pointed, whispering softly, “Just there. They are lying under the trees, surrounded by the shrubs.” An infant’s cries could be heard in the silence of the woods, disturbing the peacefully chirping birds up early to enjoy the new day. Brocc’s eyebrows quirked up at the sound.
“If the babe is awake, so are the rest of them. I will dismount and push through the brush. You, you, and you,” Brocc pointed to three of his warriors, “follow me. The rest of you, stay back here until I have a better idea of who our travelers are. Listen for my signal.” Dismounting, Brocc’s powerfully booted feet silently crunched on the forest floor as he maneuvered through the thick brush. For such a large man, he could move in graceful silence, a skill he had perfected with a lifetime of training.
With one more step forward, he peeked through an opening in the bushes and first saw a woman. She had bright red hair and both bare breasts exposed. One breast had a very small infant attached to it making small suckling noises and gulps while the other breast consistently dribbled opaque milk from the nipple. Brocc stared in awe, thinking of Una and the child she would soon feed. It was a beautiful part of motherhood and Brocc felt a sudden need to help this woman and her child.
He looked around and saw the men. There were three rather large men standing around the newly lit fire. One man with shoulder length blonde hair and a short beard was feeding kindling to the fire while another man with shorter dark brown hair and only a very short stubble that sculpted his strong jaw was building a spit to roast a skinned rabbit. The third man had jet black hair and a very pointy nose. He was very tall but thin, not nearly as powerful as the other two, but he had a dangerousness about him. He almost resembled a bird, with his slim face and a pointy nose, tall feather-like black hairs sticking up on his head. The man walked over and kneeled by the woman nursing her child and gave the babe a soft kiss on the head.
So, the thin black-haired man, woman, and infant were a family. Who, then, were those large men near the fire? He squinted his eyes as he watched their movements from a distance, waiting to determine how to proceed. He saw their swords resting against a tree trunk several paces from where they stood. Surely they had daggers in their boots, like most men, especially seasoned travelers such as these.
They had a tidy campsite and it was clear they were used to this lifestyle. The men were not serfs, based on their equipment and clothing; noblemen, most likely. The two large men both wore tight brown trousers and white loose tunics, but their confident movements made Brocc wonder why men of means would be out in the woods with this small family. Usually, families traveled with servants and carts, not lone noblemen.
Just then, the man with short brown hair smiled and moved over to a tree on the other side of the campsite. Brocc’s gaze followed the man’s figure as he walked over. Under a tree, he saw a large bundle of gray woolen blankets moving as its occupant shifted and arose. He saw, not one, but the back of two heads: one a silvery blonde with long wavy hair and the other with bright fire-red wavy locks. He could not see their faces, but he knew them to be women. The brown-haired man leaned down to kiss the woman with silvery hair just as the blonde man walked over and kissed the woman with red hair. Brocc looked on in confusion. There were three couples out here in the woods, but why?
Brocc’s instincts were finely tuned to every detail, move, and gesture of the people he shrewdly observed. He intuitively felt that the two large men were no immediate threat. Men who meant to cause trouble seldom brought their wives along on the journey.
The other man, however, gave Brocc a suspicious feeling. He had never seen him before, but he fit the description of a man who he had been told of several times. Could he be the infamous leader of the rebels who slew Fiachu Finnolach just two moons ago? That could explain why he was out in the wilderness with his family, and it would verify the rumors that he and his people were close to Darini. But that would make this man the new High King. Why would he be traveling without his loyal group of Aithich-tuatha, alone in the woods? He was not sure what to believe, but he knew it was time to find out.
Needing to approach in the least threatening way, Brocc felt it was best to lay his weapons down in the shrubs. He would come out unarmed and hope for the best. His three men would be right behind him, followed by seventeen more on horses just a few yards away.
Stepping out of the brush with his hands up, he said in a firm, confident, yet friendly voice, “Greetings. I mean you nay harm,” as all the heads popped up in surprise and stared at him with confusion. Nobody seemed overly frightened, and Brocc took this as a good sign. He took one more strong, but slow, step out of the brush and said, “I am sorry to disturb you. My men and I were camped not far from here and we were alerted to the sound of a crying child. We thought that perhaps you needed assistance.”
Brocc scanned the reactions of the men and women. As he had suspected, the two larger men kept straight, alert faces, while the thin black-haired man became instantly guarded, as if ready for attack. Brocc’s instincts were almost never wrong. This man had secrets and would need to be watched carefully. It was beyond a man protecting his wife and child; the look in his eye was far more sinister. “May I ask your names? And do you require assistance?”
The two larger men stood up and looked Brocc over carefully, clearly sizing him up to determine threat and status. Their eyes locked on the thin gold band around his head and they looked wearily at one another. After an uncomfortable moment, the man with blonde hair responded. “Aye, my name is Garreth, King of Coraindt. This is King Liam of Iverni.”
Brocc looked at them with quirked up brows. “Truly? Iverni and Coraindt, you say? I have never heard of those tuatha.” He was suspicious, though, in truth, these men certainly looked like they could be kings. “And, may I ask why two kings of two separate tuatha are traveling alone, with nay soldiers, in the woods? And, who is this man?” He pointed to the black-haired man.
“Him? He is another traveler we met out here. He is not with us. We merely gave them shelter, as his wife was ready to give birth. As you can see, this child is not but hours old. We could not leave them alone.”
Brocc nodded in understanding. These kings were good men of strong character. Instinctively, he knew they would not attack unless provoked. “You then, what is your name?” He nodded to the man still squatting on the forest floor next to his wife, who had covered herself up with a cloak as the babe continued to nurse.
The man looked wearily at Brocc, clearly unwilling to answer questions without answers of his own. “It seems we have answered plenty enough of your questions thus far. Would you care to share your identity?”
“Aye,” he said putting his hands on his hips. “My name is Brocc, King of Darini.” Two loud gasps came from the women huddling under the blankets near the tree and Brocc’s eyes were suddenly diverted to them.
All the blood rushed out of his head as a cold chill ran down his spine. He stepped back
swiftly, almost tripping over a rock. “Una?” he whispered, shaking his head. Nay, it was not possible. These two women had Una’s face, only they lacked her soft honey brown hair.
What sort of dark trick was this? Was this a trap? Mayhap they were the menacing woodland faeries he had grown up hearing stories about. They were seeking a human to wreak havoc upon and they had chosen him. He shook his head again and blinked his eyes rapidly, determined not to fall for whatever trickery they planned. “Nay…” Brocc backed away another step. “This is not possible…I must be dreaming.” Or, he had gone mad. Suddenly, he thought of the wild berries he had picked on his journey the day before. Could they have poisoned his mind?
He dared to look again and shuttered as he realized they had not disappeared. Determined little faeries, they were! They stared back at Brocc from beneath the covers with two identical faces wearing Una’s bright green eyes, high sculpted cheeks, straight elegant nose, and full rosy red lips. How could they know Una’s face? Had they read his mind and shapeshifted into the lady of his heart? Brocc felt like a man on the brink of insanity. He was torn between fighting or fleeing. He shook his head again and squeezed his eyes closed, as if willing them away.
The brown-haired man stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Brocc’s shoulder, and he flinched as he hesitantly opened his eyes again. “King Brocc of Darini. King Brocc Mac Greine?”
Now Brocc was panicking in earnest. The men must be conspiring with the faeries! Mayhap they were also faeries. And, the male faery knew his full name. They were inside his mind, tormenting him with his love for Una! “What sort of dark sorcery is this? Who are you?” Brocc reached for his sword but realized he had left it, along with all other weapons, in the shrubs. That decision suddenly rankled.