by Lucy Monroe
“I know what the Faol are,” Ciara said with a tinge of exasperation.
“A good story cannot be rushed.” Boisin frowned reprovingly. “And it loses its strength when you interrupt, do ye ken?”
Properly chastised, Ciara nodded. “I apologize.”
“’Tis understandable. You are impatient to reach the end of your journey, but if you rush, you may miss the signs for which way to go.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, as I was saying.” But he went through his sipping his wine and clearing his throat ritual again. At this rate the elder was going to be inebriated before he finished his tale.
Ciara was determined not to interrupt the flow of words again.
“There were the Paindeal, another people fierce in battle and fond of war as well. They shared their natures with the big cats of prey and even a wolf would think twice before engaging them in battle. The final race were the Éan, the people of the Chrechte most likely to remember the true spiritual ways. Though they shared nature with eagles and hawks, birds of prey, they also shared their nature with the ravens, birds with no instinct to kill. ’Twas the ravens who were charged with keeping their sacred stone and designated the rulers of their people.”
Ciara had not known that, but it made sense to give those with the greatest power a nature not so warlike. The wolves and cats of prey did not have any species like the ravens in their races.
“Among the Paindeal their keepers of the stone came from the cats as black as night and larger than any wolf in the wild. But the wolves connected to the Faolchú Chridhe were white as the snow. The only wolves whose males had the ability to control their shift from their first transformation.”
He took a long drought from his goblet. “Each of the races had a protector. The Faol were protected by their conriocht, the Éan by the dragon and the Paindeal by the griffin.”
Ciara was not the only one to gasp at the confirmation that not only did Paindeal exist but they could become griffins.
“If you would lay your swords on the table,” Boisin said to Eirik.
“One is Ciara’s.”
“Aye.”
Ciara nodded her assent when she realized Eirik was waiting for it. Both swords were laid carefully across the table, their hilts in easy reach of Eirik’s big warrior’s hands.
Boisin pointed to the handle of Ciara’s sword with a finger shaky with age. “See for yourself. The conriocht, the dragon and the griffin.”
Ciara and Eirik had already seen the handles, but Lais and Mairi took a moment to look closely at the decoration on the swords.
“But then where are the Paindeal?” Eirik asked.
“All in good time, Éan prince. All in good time.”
Eirik sighed, but nodded.
Boisin cracked a grin. “Ah, the impatience of youth.”
“I apologize, elder,” Eirik said.
“No matter. Listen well, young prince and you will learn things the Éan have forgotten. Each race had its own particular strengths and weaknesses. The wolves reproduce with the most ease, though not as prolific as their human counterparts. The Paindeal healed from any illness or wound short of a mortal one with a shift. The Éan could shift at a younger age and were gifted with more seers and often had special Chrechte gifts with greater impact than their other brethren.”
“So, the Faol can have gifts like the Éan,” Ciara mused to herself.
Boisin didn’t chide her for interrupting again, but nodded. “They can indeed, though only the Éan have healers like the eagle here, and only those found most worthy by the stone at that.”
“Oh.” Lais looked dumbstruck as he seemed to realize how very unique and special his gift was.
Mairi merely smiled and nodded at him serenely.
Ciara wondered what the seer had experienced in her dreams of the elder. Whatever it was, Mairi was obviously content to be at the old man’s table and listening to his stories.
“In addition to having more children, the wolves’ protectors were more numerous. The Paindeal had one, perhaps two griffins who would live for centuries. But when one died, it could be a generation or more before their stone called forth another. The same was true of the Éan’s dragons.”
“Eirik is going to live hundreds of years?” Ciara asked in shock, forgetting her vow not to interrupt.
“Aye, barring treachery. He will. As will you.”
Hope blossomed inside her. “What do you mean?”
“You are the first true kelle born in more than a century. All others that have come before you failed to find the Faolchú Chridhe, but you will. And you will live to see your loved ones die, though not your mate. You must live, for you will save the Faol from utter destruction.”
Eirik reached over and took her hand. “All will be well, faolán.”
She tried to believe him, but the old seer’s words were not comforting, despite his promise of long life for her and Eirik. “Utter destruction?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Aye.” Sadness came over Boisin’s features. “A plague is coming. A quickly spreading illness so great, the likes of it have never been seen before. Many will die here and in the lands across the sea. It will attack the Chrechte with even greater a virulence than it does the humans. Without the Faolchú Chridhe and its power to heal, the Faol will all die in that time.”
Horror sent chills through her. “No.”
“Aye. A seer is not always pleased by his visions,” Boisin said, whether simply in acknowledgment or warning for Ciara and Mairi, she did not know. “You must follow the stone to its hiding place behind the stone wall that is not a wall at all and bring it to the sacred caves on Sinclair land. You will return it to its proper place in the cavern of the Faol. You will know this hidden cavern by the etchings on the wall.”
She thought of the cave she had seen in her vision and thought he was right, but that didn’t help her in finding the stone or the hidden cavern for that matter. “I don’t understand.”
“To be sure, I don’t, either. If I did, I would tell you. My own family’s descendants’ lives depend on it.”
Chapter 21
Fortune and love favor the brave.
—OVID
“But why is the Faolchú Chridhe hidden to begin with?” Ciara asked.
“Because in the time so long ago, when our people wandered the earth, the high kelle had a son,” Boisin continued in his storyteller’s voice. “And this woman of great strength and honor saw a lust for power in her only offspring. He wanted to be king, though his cousin who was but a child was heir to the Faol throne.”
“The high kelle’s son thought he was superior to other Chrechte, that he deserved to be king. Fearghall believed men were more valuable than women and wolves more valuable than all. He devised a foul plan to ensure his ascendancy to the throne. Already a conriocht himself, he would take the Faolchú Chridhe and hide it so his young cousin could not be blessed with the spirit of the conriocht.”
“But the stone would call to the kelle. She would find it.”
“Not if she were dead,” Boisin said in a tone that sent shivers down Ciara’s spine.
The others at the table looked equally affected and disgusted by the ancient Chrechte’s plan.
“It is within the high kelle of the Faol’s power to draw forth the conriocht. She can determine how many need to exist to protect a generation.” Boisin shook his head. “Fearghall knew this, but had convinced himself that he could control the Faolchú Chridhe on his own. The keepers of the stone have always been women though. The men of their families can draw on certain powers of the stone, but only the high kelle could bring them all forth. Only she can bestow the spirit of the conriocht through the laying of hands on the sacred stone.”
So, Galen would have failed in his quest even if the stone had been found…unless he had convinced Ciara to help him. The thought that he might have easily gotten her innocent still-child self to do so sent dread welling in her.
; Apparently not bothered by such disturbing thoughts, Mairi gave a beatific smile to Ciara. “I told you.”
“You interpreted the meaning of your dreams correctly.” Boisin smiled at his new protégé. “That was well done.”
Mairi blushed at the praise.
“But the kelle hid the stone herself, didn’t she?”
“Aye.”
“Why?” Eirik asked.
“Because she knew Fearghall didn’t only plan to withhold the conriocht from his cousin. The kelle hid the stone to stop her son from creating an army of conriocht and destroying the other Chrechte, didn’t she?” Ciara asked.
“She did.”
“But again, I ask, why?” Eirik’s face was creased in a frown. “If only the high kelle could draw forth the conriocht, then Fearghall was bound to fail.”
“Not if he could intimidate or seduce the next high kelle into doing his bidding.” Mairi shivered. “A woman has to be very strong of mind to withstand beating after beating without giving her abuser exactly what he wants.”
“But you never gave in to your father,” Lais said with fierce pride. “You never told him what you had seen in your dreams and visions about the Faolchú Chridhe.”
“He would have only beaten me in certainty I had more to give him.”
“You are wise for your young years, little Mairi,” Boisin said and then continued his tale. “Fearghall accused the Éan of stealing the stone when it was discovered missing and declared war on them. They were in a generation without a dragon and their people were nearly decimated before the few remaining took to the forests in the north in hiding, making their homes high in the trees away from those who hunted them.”
“But what of the Paindeal?” Eirik asked.
“They fought the Faol under Fearghall, but every death was a great loss to their race as not even a true mated couple could be guaranteed to produce shifting offspring.”
“You mean their children didn’t all shift?”
“Nay. Their griffin fought the conriocht bravely, but it was finally decided they would return to the land of their origin.”
So the old stories were based in truth, Ciara thought. “They went back across the land bridge that fell into the sea.”
“More like they left in boats, but the Paindeal live in the lands of the Norsemen and further south amidst the countries the Romans conquered or sought to do.”
“They must be higher in number now,” Eirik mused.
“Aye. They live much longer lives and with no wolves hunting them, their numbers have grown.”
Eirik’s brow creased in a puzzled frown. “You know all this from dreams?”
“And visions. ’Tis a thing I will teach Mairi as your Anya-Gra will train your mate once you have recovered the Faolchú Chridhe.”
Ciara wasn’t sure she wanted the knowledge Boisin spoke of, but her time from hiding from her gifts was past. She would serve their people as Eirik had predicted and just as he promised, she would not do it alone.
For the first time since realizing she had a mate, Ciara felt gratitude instead of fear stir in her heart.
“So, if it needs to be returned to the sacred caves on Sinclair lands, it stands to reason it is not there,” Lais observed.
Boisin inclined his head. “I have long believed that to be the case.”
“Knowing where it isn’t doesn’t improve our chances of finding it by much,” Ciara said worriedly.
The weight of her people’s future now pressed down heavily on her shoulders.
Eirik squeezed her hand again, reminding her he had not let go, that the stubborn man never would let her go. “We will find the Faolchú Chridhe; we will save your race. Trust in our Chrechte strength. ’Tis not limited to the increased physical prowess from our animal natures.”
She took a deep breath and nodded, trusting in her mate, if nothing else.
“Perhaps we should begin our search in caves on the lands of the clan with the strongest contingent remaining of the Fearghall.” Lais caressed Mairi’s hair as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. “It stands to reason that would be the clan in most direct descent from the high kelle and her wicked son.”
“’Tis not such a good measure as you might think,” Boisin said. “When the Fearghall society was formed, so too were the Cahir.”
“The Cahir?” Eirik asked.
“Aye, warriors dedicated to rooting out the Fearghall among the packs and either convincing them the error of their ways or destroying them.”
“You are Cahir?” Mairi asked, sounding like she knew the answer.
“I was once. I passed that mantle to my son and he has trained his sons to follow.”
“But there are no Fearghall in the Balmoral clan,” Ciara said with confusion.
“Why do you think that is, lass?” Boisin shook his head. “The Balmoral clan has Cahir, but some packs did not train the next generation of Cahir and take their vow of protection in belief the cancer no longer existed among them, but without the Cahir, ’twould always return.”
“Like in my father’s clan,” Mairi said, looking up at the eagle with a sad frown.
“Aye, the MacLeod has a like spirit to Fearghall,” Boisin said. “Though he does not share such a direct bloodline as our Faol princess.”
“I am not a princess,” Ciara could not help muttering.
“Kelle then.”
“I am not kelle.”
“I will teach you to be a warrior,” Eirik promised. “And Anya-Gra will teach you to care for the spiritual welfare of our people. The stone has chosen you as high kelle. You have too much courage and honor not to heed the calling.”
He was correct that she would not deny her call, but it wasn’t because she was courageous. It was because she had no choice.
“Our people?” she asked.
“The Chrechte.”
“Both Faol and Éan?” she pressed, though she knew the answer.
“Aye.”
Boisin nodded. “The races must join to win against the Black Death coming.”
Lais got more water for the horses, his thoughts and heart in conflict. He owed his allegiance to Eirik and could not abandon his prince to pursuit of the quest without him, but the thought of leaving Mairi here on Balmoral Island made his eagle claw to get out.
“Boisin has agreed to lead us to the caves the Balmoral use for their sacred Chrechte rites,” Eirik said from behind Lais. “Though he is fairly certain the Faolchú Chridhe is not there, he wants to show Ciara how to draw on the power of the stone and seek it out.”
Lais turned and met his friend and prince’s gaze. “Do you think he has truly foreseen the future and this Black Death he mentioned?”
“His gift is true. You have only to look at the goblet he served your wine in to see that.”
The images on the goblet had burned inside Lais with hope ever since his first glimpse of them. “Aye.”
“The Black Death is coming.”
“But not for many years.”
“That is what he said.”
“So, why find the stone now?”
Eirik frowned and looked off to the distance. “Because the stone needs Ciara to touch and heal the Faol and she needs the stone to prolong her life.”
“For centuries…” Lais could barely believe such a thing possible.
“That is what the old man said.”
“Do you think it is true?”
“I do. Since transforming into my dragon for the first time, I have felt invulnerable.”
“Because none could best you in battle.”
“I do not get sick. Cuts, wounds…they heal far too quickly for even a Chrechte.”
“You are going to outlive me.”
“Aye.” Eirik’s grief at the thought lived in his eyes. “My grandmother always warned me my calling would not be an easy one. I thought the hardest thing had already been faced.”
“Giving up your right to rule as king.”
“Aye.”
But worse was yet to come, not that it needed saying. Lais was just as certain that Eirik would learn to take the centuries in stride so long as his mate was by his side.
“I want a mate,” Lais blurted out.
Eirik raised a single brow. “I thought you’d already chosen one.”
“She deserves better.”
“Than my most trusted and closest friend?” Eirik asked with disbelief. “There is no better man.”
Lais felt an unmanly prick at his eyes and blinked the sensation away. “You know that is not true.”
“Do not be a fool, Lais.”
“I am not.”
“No.” Eirik slapped his shoulder. “You were deceived once, but you were not a fool then and you are not one now. Do not act the part.”
“I betrayed my alpha and the princess of our people.”
“They forgave you. The Clach Gealach Gra healed you.”
“What if it didn’t? What if I cannot give Mairi bairns?”
“What if you can?”
“You make it sound simple.”
“’Tis because it is. Would you dismiss the gift to heal that you have been given because you are unworthy of it?”
“Of course not.” He could not believe Eirik had even asked such a stupid thing. Their people needed Lais’s abilities. “I cannot deny the Clach Gealach Gra my service in healing others.”
“Then how do you think you have the right to deny this gift?” Eirik asked in a tone that implied he was not the only one capable of voicing stupidity.
“You didn’t say this to Gart when he chose his dreams of children over his mate.”
“I am not Gart’s alpha.”
“If it comes to that, you are not actually mine, either.” Though they both knew that prince triumphed over alpha as a distinction of leadership, no matter what Eirik had sacrificed to bring his people to the clans and relative safety.
“I am your friend,” Eirik said with certainty. “I would be remiss if I did not point out when you are being an idiot.”