Chapter 5
The Nightmare
In the year 264 B.C., Breanna woke on the floor of her bedroom. She shivered at the state of her room. The furniture was turned over and shards of broken vases littered the floor, covering her body.
Every muscle throbbed as she tried to sit up, but her muscles were too taught and weak from her violent convulsions. Tears stung her eyes as her body would not yield to her will. She gave up and curled into a ball. “I can’t handle much more of this.”
Outside her bedroom door, the tapping of footsteps in the stairwell bounced off the walls. By the hurried click of the shoes, Bre knew it was her mother coming to wake her up.
“Please,” Breanna begged her body to move, teardrops splashing on the floor. As if her muscles knew who was coming, they gave way for movement. Limping and whimpering, Bre tried to sweep as many shards of glass under her bed as she could. She turned the furniture upright. She jumped into bed and burrowed under the covers with the scrapping of the key in the lock and the click of its release.
“Breanna?” Alina asked sweetly, sitting on the bed. “Wake up darling, your father is waiting for you in the throne room.”
Breanna pretended to yawn lazily. “Good morning, Mother.”
Alina noticed the popped blood vessels in her daughter’s eyes and knew Breanna was hiding how bad her nightmare was during the night.
“How bad was it,” Alina asked, rubbing Bre’s hand with her thumb. Bre’s skin was tacky from sweating through the night.
“I’m fine, wasn’t that bad at all,” Breanna lied.
“Do not lie to me,” Alina warmed, picking a vase shard out of Bre’s hair and showing it to her before tossing it to the ground.
Trying to hide her tears, Bre rolled over to dry her eyes on her pillow. Bre’s heart broke when she turned back to her mother. The sadness and fear in Alina’s eyes twisted Breanna’s stomach. Attempting to focus on anything but fear, Breanna noted Alina’s beauty. She was one of the most beautiful women in the kingdom, Bre thought. Breanna was lucky enough to get her looks from her mother, especially her hazel eyes with gold flecks.
Bre remembered stories her father and servants told her about Alina. She was the most sought after women in all of Cymru, Alina’s home country. She was the daughter of a former fairy goddess. Not surprisingly, Breanna’s father, King Remus of Etruria, wanted her to be his Queen.
“Don’t worry, I am fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” Bre assured her mother.
“How much do you remember?” Alina asked.
“As much as I usually do. It is not the images that bother me, but the lingering feelings. All that fear, anger, and pain; it is powerful. It is horrifying. They’re not mine, yet they feel as if they belong to me,” Bre explained, her eyes watering again.
Alina choked back her own tears and stood up proudly, pushing her shoulders back with perfect posture.
“Come now. As I said, your father is waiting,” said Alina walking to the doors, not wanting to hear more.
Breanna eased her aching body out of bed and walked to her wardrobe. She grabbed her favorite blue dress with white lace trim along the bottom. It had a train that flowed from her waist that lightly swept the floor as she walked.
She was about to slip into it when her mother warned, “Do not wear your best dress this time, Propheteia De’ Breanna Regina. You’ll get it filthy while riding and drive the maids mad with laundry.”
Breanna winced at the sound of her full name. She never understood why anyone would name a child Propheteia.
Despite her irritation and her nightmare, Breanna smiled. She was determined not to let anything spoil her birthday weekend.
“And happy eighteenth birthday,” Alina added. “It won’t be long until the Gàidheals arrive to celebrate your and Eoghan’s birthdays. I cannot imagine what has delayed them but I know Eoghan will show up with his usual bear hug greeting. He would be a great match for you, you know. He is Celtic royalty.” Alina raised an eyebrow followed by a smirk.
Breanna blushed and hid her face from her mother’s as a shiver ran through her body. Just the thought of her best friend being a love interest both shocked and nauseated her. Nonetheless, Bre could never hide her excitement at the thought of seeing him.
Alina laughed at Bre’s bashful behavior.
Bre stared absentmindedly at the wardrobe, thinking of Eoghan. She remembered his six-foot tall frame perfectly accompanied by striking blue eyes with short dark hair. Eoghan’s toned muscles yielding to nothing as he fought against soldiers in practice and on the battlefield.
“Your Majesty! My Queen!” The Queen’s maid sped into the princess’ chambers, snapping Breanna out of her thoughts of Eoghan. “Hurry, the Gàidheals have arrived!” The maid pointed to the window, terrified.
Alina walked to the window and inhaled sharply at the sight. She made eye contact with one man, Brian o’Conaill, who nodded at her through the window. Alina was easily spotted, as her emerald green dress and blonde hair stood out against the pale colored stone of the palace. Alina’s stomach churned at what could happen next.
“I’ve always been afraid of this day,” she whispered to herself. Before walking back to the door, Alina kissed Bre on the forehead with trembling lips. “Never forget how much we love you.”
Alina and the maid disappeared with a soft click of the door. Breanna ran to her window to see the arrival of the Gàidheals, the people she had been longing to see. What she saw startled her. Instead of the calm and peaceful group she knew so well, a war party greeted her gates. No wonder the maid and her mother looked scared.
Bre watched them march up to her palace. Their weapons and gold plated armor gleamed in the morning sun. If a war party was arriving, something terrible must have happened. Immediate concern for Eoghan plagued Bre’s mind.
Breanna’s heart beat faster as she frantically searched the party for Eoghan and found two men she knew instead. A slight twitch of their necks and grounding of their jaws hinted to Breana they were intentionally not looking at her. Fondness and relief washed over her at seeing the o’Conaill brothers were safe. However, she was suspicious of their evasion.
The men avoiding eye contact with Bre were the leaders of the o’Conaill clan. Brian o’Conaill, the same man her mother found, walked next to his brother and second in command, Cailean o’Conaill.
Memories flooded Bre’s mind of the times Brian and Cailean taught her and Eoghan to fight together. They also taught them the ways of the old Celtic religion. She and Eoghan had been the strongest of their pupils. Many people, including Breanna, thought she and Eoghan were invincible, so long as they had each other. Her father would laugh and call them the mischievous duo.
Panic returned with a sinking feeling in her gut when she could not find Eoghan. “Where are you?” she whispered to herself.
Bre anxiously ran to the wardrobe, the care for throbbing muscles forsaken, where the back panel loosened and a secret passage lead to the throne room. She often used it to eavesdrop on her parents and their counsel. She threw on a crimson and gold tunic with a brown leather pant-skirt, and fastened it with the gold Celtic buckle Eoghan gave her on their sixteenth birthday. Dark brown, knee-high riding boots and a forest green cloak completed the usually vain princess’ mismatched outfit. Bre did not bother brushing her long dark curly hair, but ran as fast as she could down the stone steps to the throne room without a care for her appearance.
As Bre approached the throne room door and reached for the handle, the door violently swung open. Standing in the doorway illuminated by the morning sun was Eoghan. He blocked her way before she crossed the threshold. Dark circles under his eyes and a hard, angry look on his face frightened Breanna. The harsh features made Eoghan a stranger to her.
Breanna, startled by the volatile foreigner, quickly tried to retreat up the stairs. Desperate to escape Eoghan, she tripped on the stone steps and lurched forward, letting out a squeal of panic.
Eoghan quickly grabbed Breanna, violently yanked her to her feet and covered her mouth. He wrapped his one arm tightly around her waist and hoisted her off her feet, causing Bre to wince as his arm dug into her rib cage. Eoghan shifted Bre so that she dangled from the side of his body as if he were carrying a large bag against his hip.
Eoghan ran back up the stone steps. The jostling made Bre short of breath as every bouncing step he took forced air from her diaphragm. Starting to slip from his grip, Eoghan swung Bre in front of his body so her head rested against his collarbone and her back against his solid abdomen.
Panic subsiding with her growing anger, Bre kicked and clawed at Eoghan forcing him to tighten his grip as she struggled against him. Finally, she wiggled her head to the perfect angle.
“Ow! Knock it off!” Eoghan growled as Bre bit his finger. Eoghan repositioned his hand like a muzzle to prevent anymore nasty bites. Bre flinched as Eoghan’s fingers dug deeper into her.
Fear crept into her mind from Eoghan’s aggressive actions. What if Eoghan and his clan are here to overthrow my family? What if they pretended to be allies to discover my kingdom’s weakness?
Tears stung her eyes at the betrayal of her friend, the only person she thought of as a brother. For the first time since they met, she was frightened of Eoghan and of what he could do to her. He carried his weapons and she had foolishly forgotten hers on the bedroom table.
Breanna was lost in her fearful thoughts and pictured her father scolding her as she forgot her weapons. When she finally came to her senses, she realized she had never been through this part of the palace. This secret passage was unfamiliar, dark, and daunting. She was lost in her own home.
Despite her fear, her anger came roaring back. She was enraged that Eoghan knew her home better than she did. Bobbing and weaving through different passages, doors opening without being touched: it felt as if they were flying. It was then she noticed that the jostling stopped.
How is he not touching a single step? Where is the pounding motion of his feet against the stone steps? she thought with a growing knot in her stomach. I don’t even know him.
Bre could feel Eoghan’s heart pounding in her back as he held her tight to his chest. His hand slowly loosened and moved away from her mouth. He gently embraced the side of her face, hoping she would not bite him again. It was a soft touch not at all mirroring his aggressiveness earlier.
As he freed her mouth she felt no need to scream or bite, but she was too angry to speak.
Eoghan whispered in her ear, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Finally, they stopped moving and Eoghan released her from his restrictive embrace. Finding her footing on solid ground, Breanna whipped around and slapped his face, jerking his head to one side. The crack echoed off the walls. Eoghan slowly turned back to Breanna revealing a bright red welt on his cheek.
Eoghan sighed, acknowledging her frustration. He swiftly moved towards Breanna, quicker than she had ever seen. He grasped her tightly in a hug, cradled her head against his chest, and stroked the back of her hair.
Once Eoghan released Bre, he stepped back to look at her and drew a slow, deep breath. He knew how impatient Breanna could be, so he quickly tried to explain his actions to avoid another slap. “I am so sorry if I hurt you, Bre. It was for your own safety. I had to get you out. We came as quick as we could to protect your family.”
“What are you talking about, Eoghan? I demand you explain everything at once! If my family is in danger, we should be helping. You know we can’t be defeated when we fight together.” Breanna was furious with Eoghan.
Before Eoghan could answer, Bre looked around the room as she noticed the torches lit without either of them igniting the flames. There was a large round table with strange markings carved into the stone. In addition, words written in a language she had never seen circled the room. Carvings in the wall attempted to tell a story, no doubt depicting what was written in the mysterious language.
Eoghan quickly regained her attention by whipping her around to face him.
“Breanna, listen to me. This is one battle we cannot win. Romulus is about to wage war against your father. Clan MacCathail, an enemy of my clan, has joined his forces to ensure the destruction of your bloodline,” Eoghan quickly explained.
Breanna stood silently with her mouth open at the sudden news of war.
Impatient and annoyed, Eoghan sighed, but it sounded more like a growl. He left Bre and moved around the room pushing against the walls. “There is another secret passage here. Help me find it. We need to get you out.”
Breanna found her words again and yelled, “What in the gods’ names are you doing, Eoghan? Answer my question! Why are we not helping? And what is all this about Uncle Romulus?”
“There is no time, Breanna! I don’t think Romulus is aware of these passages, but I cannot take that chance. He and your father think too much alike.”
“Eoghan you are not making any sense! You need to…” Bre began before Eoghan cut her off.
“What I need is to get you out! Why can’t you ever focus on the task at hand? I see the God of Sanity never blessed you,” Eoghan yelled as he frantically searched the walls. “Oi! Crazy woman, help me.”
Breanna pointed a threatening finger in Eoghan’s direction as she said, “Don’t make me slap you twice, Eoghan MacBeatha.”
Eoghan smirked at her threat, but quickly hardened his expression. “Propheteia De’ Breanna Regina, you are an impossibly stubborn woman!” He tried to hide his anxiety but his voice trembled as he spoke. Breanna knew him too well not to pick it up. He hated, yet loved how well she knew him.
Breanna, shocked by the fact he knew her full name, tried to demand how he knew it.
Sensing the argument they were about to have Eoghan cut her off again, “Enough, Breanna! Help us get out! If not for us then do it for yourself. You have always loved doing things for yourself.”
Breanna gave a light gasp and stared at Eoghan, hurt by his sharp words.
Eoghan saw her trembling lip and knew how his words cut into her. No one had ever spoken to the princess that way, let alone someone she cared about deeply. He would have gutted anyone who did that to her.
Eoghan spoke in a comforting tone in attempt to regain his composure, “Bre, I’m sorry. You are not selfish. You are the most gracious, selfless person I know. I will explain everything later, but we must get out of the palace. Please, Breanna, the world can’t lose you…” Eoghan looked away and mumbled so only he could hear his desperate words, “I can’t lose you.”
Still upset, Breanna turned to walk back through the passageway they came out of but there was no door. She was trapped.
“Grrrrr, how do I get back?”
Eoghan rolled his eyes and continued his search for the secret door. He sighed and said under his breath, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Breanna pushed against the wall but hung her head in defeat. Her attempts of escape were fruitless. Anger and concern caused her to slam her fist against the stone, pleading for it open.
Suddenly, an overwhelming sensation of fear filled her chest. Breanna turned to Eoghan, her face drained of color and full of desperate tears.
All strength vanished from her body, as if her life was being drained. She collapsed as white smoke swirling with electric blue lights clouded her vision. Breanna closed her eyes as Eoghan whipped his hand through the air and shouted, “Mac tire.”
Before she passed out, Breanna felt a warm cushion where her head should have collided with the cold stone floor.
The Phoinix: Age of Demigods Page 16