I collapsed on the ground, my face in the snow.
All I could hear was dark laughter.
And Faelan’s voice saying, I will find you and I will kill you. Prepare to ride the Faery Cavalcade forever.
Chapter 12
“Stand back, lads,” Kellen said. “Let her breathe.”
And yet, they pressed forward. I could feel them, shadows in a dark world, hoping for something bright. I wanted to say something to cheer them as they had cheered me, but I was lost to a nether world.
Kellen’s Leanan Sidhe poison was stronger than I first thought. It surged through me in waves, each one more brutal than the last.
My boys whimpered and licked my face, crying for me to wake up. One of them grabbed my left hand in his teeth and pulled, trying to force me back onto my feet.
“‘Tis the Nightshade Blood,” Kellen said. He carefully brushed my wolf cubs aside. “Back, little ones.” Then he snapped off the arrow shaft that still plunged through my shoulder. “She must have a drop or two of Leanan Sidhe in her veins. Many of the Fair Folk do.”
“Is there not a cure?” one of the other hunters asked.
“Not here,” Kellen said as lifted me in his arms. “All of my herbs and remedies are back in my cottage.”
My children were growing frantic, leaping and grabbing onto the cape that wrapped about me.
I’d just survived an enchanted cup of wine that made me sleep for a thousand years and a battle with a dark supernatural creature.
Was this poison meant for the Leanan Sidhe going to kill me?
“Ma, are you hurt?” Benen asked, as he ran around me.
“Wake up!” Ambros said, his tone fearful.
“‘Tis my own fault,” Kellen continued, sorrow in his voice. “The poison was fashioned for the blood drinkers. Few would have survived it.”
“Take my horse,” one of the hunters said. “Ride fast! We’ll follow you.”
And all the while, my delirium built, a fever boiled from within, and Faelan’s horrible voice continued to taunt me. “Run, though you will not escape. I will find you. You and your children—”
“Promise me,” I whispered as I curled in pain, writhing in his arms.
“Anything,” Kellen answered.
“If I perish, take care of my children—”
“I vow it.”
Then I tried to speak the incantation that would turn my twins back into faeries, but my voice was gone. If I died from this poison, they would be wolves forever.
Together, we rode the horse through the forest, Kellen’s arms wrapped around me, my wolf-cub children yelping and running at our side, as if they feared they would be left behind. Did this Duine understand the words my children spoke, or did their words sound like the bark of a wolf cub?
It was possible Benen and Ambros would be treated as wild beasts throughout eternity. Now, there would be no hope of them reclaiming their kingdom or defeating the Milesians. They’d never wear golden crowns upon their heads, not while they wore white fur instead of skin.
I had failed my House.
I fell into a fretful state, nightmares as real as day taking shape and chasing after me. I imagined my boys grown, their white fur shaggy and dirty, their paws bloody from running away from Duine who hated them. I imagined Faelan sending one army after another across the Muir Éireann, each one more evil than the one before, all of them seeking to destroy the remnants of my House. I imagined Greagoir rising from the dead to come after me, demanding that I return his heart.
Night shadows filled the glen. The trees towered and thickened around us until we no longer ran on a woodland path.
In my mind, we were flying over the treetops.
I imagined that all four of us were black ravens, flying through a blinding snowstorm, all while being chased by a golden eagle with a wingspan as wide as a castle.
In all my battles—even when I fought beside my husband Fethur during the Milesian Invasion—I had never been so afraid of death as I was now.
We ran and we flew, all night long, until we reached a small cottage, nestled in an oak grove beside a clear mountain stream. I lifted my head, glad our journey was over, and I expected to see Kellen’s wife greet us at the door. Surely, she’d have a babe on her hip, another three or four asleep in their beds.
But the door swung open and only a little girl stood there, a sleepy grin on her face. She looked about ten years old. There was no woman here. But there had been once—I saw her in the fine dishes and the handmade lace curtains. Dust and cobwebs covered her finery.
She’d been here.
But she was gone now.
Like my own husband, she was probably dust in the wind.
Chapter 13
Phantoms pawed at me with long slender fingers. Dragons roared and flew past, their scales ripping my skin. A fire-breathing Caorthannach ran screaming around me, and my torment was never going to end. The room was too small for all of my torturers. Flames licked the walls, stars fell from the sky, arrachtaigh of every shape and size squeezed through the front door and joined in. Imps handed out hammers and knives and, soon, every beast found a place on my flesh to torment.
I moaned and writhed.
“Hold still,” a young girl said. “We need to stop the bleeding. Put the spider webs here, Da?”
“Yes,” Cara Maith answered. “The poultice is almost ready.”
“Brooklime, oatmeal, and milk,” the girl said, as if she was trying to memorize the formulas.
“Buttermilk,” he corrected her.
She began to apply the poultice.
“Now, drink this,” Cara Maith commanded me as he held a cup to my lips.
I could not fight. I drank. The hot liquid burned my throat. It was as if I stood in the blacksmith’s shop and he was pouring molten bronze down my gullet.
“You will perish.”
My tormentor was the only constant thing in all of this.
That and the frightened whimpers of my white-furred children. They slept at my feet or curled at my side. Their rough tongues brushed my cheek. Their cold noses pressed into my palms.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” they pleaded.
Just like back in the cave, I was dimly aware of the passing of days. Sunlight came and went, long hours of darkness prevailed, and always I was cold, alone, and terrified. Then a man’s voice began to slowly pull me back from the Long Night of Poison, a familiar voice. ‘Twas Cara Maith himself and none other. This was the one who had spoken to me as a friend while I slept the enchanted sleep in the cave. He never told me his name then and I never saw his face, but I remembered him telling me stories about their crops and the weather, things he hoped would help me understand this world when I woke up.
He always believed I would wake up during his lifetime. It was something he and his daughter prayed for every night.
Kellen. Cara Maith.
I knew him. He was a friend and one of my Guardians.
This was the Duine that made me wish I was a Duine too.
“Isleen, go dig up some more devil’s-bit root. I need to make another healing elixir for Eire,” Kellen said then. “Take the lantern and a blade with you, just in case.” He was somewhere close by and the room was warm, filled with the fragrance of lavender and herbs.
“Beidh mé, Da,” a young girl answered in Gaelic.
She was a good daughter. She hadn’t been allowed to visit me in the cave—she wouldn’t have understood why her father cut himself every time he came to the cave, or why his blood then dripped into my mouth—but Kellen told me about her often. Her name was Isleen and I knew her so well it was almost like she was my own child. I knew how she had grieved the loss of her mother, how she loved to visit the sea, how her favorite stories were of the Fair Folk.
“Wear a cloak,” Kellen told his daughter then. “The winds have shifted and snow is falling again.”
My eyes flickered open, glad to discover my horde of arrachtaigh demons was truly gone. I lay on a bed of sheepskins, c
overed with soft, clean linen and woolen blankets. The quaint one-room cottage was spare of furniture, with only two small windows on either side of the house. Copper pots hung from the timbered rafters, along with a fragrant assortment of herbs and flowers.
Folk medicine was usually handed down from mother to daughter, but Kellen was obviously the gifted one in this home. Perhaps by necessity.
The little girl’s dark hair hung in long, neat braids, though her dress had several rips and a long strip of fabric had been added at the hem to lengthen the garment. She’d outgrown it, but there was nobody here to sew her a new one.
She nodded to her father as she grabbed a cloak and headed out the door, a basket and knife in her other hand.
I sat up, sensing something wrong.
“How long have I slept?” I asked, rubbing my brow.
“Days, years. We’ve lost count,” Kellen said with a grin. He stared down into a cauldron that cooked over the hearth. His beard had grown longer and was a bit unkempt.
I hadn’t noticed how large he was before, how tall he stood or how broad his shoulders. Nor had I paid attention to his dark hair and beard, how they contrasted with his pale Irish complexion.
But I recognized the gentleness in his voice, the lilting mountain cadence that revealed his smile, even before I could see it. When he turned to study me, I saw the shining blue of his eyes.
Kellen was a handsome Duine, that much was certain.
“My children?” I asked.
“Asleep by the fire, like good little puppies.”
I wasn’t quite sure if he understood that they were my sons or not. For now, keeping their identity a secret seemed like a good idea—because something wasn’t right. It wasn’t just my headache or the weariness I felt from battling nightmarish creatures during my fever. The poison had left its mark on me, sure enough, and I longed to stay in bed. But I couldn’t.
The voice that had been tormenting me for days, maybe weeks, had vanished. I should have been happy. Instead, my heart filled with dread.
The only time demons are quiet is when they are busy doing dark deeds.
I turned around, surveying the cottage.
“Where is my sword?” I asked. “My cloak?”
“The sword is there.” Kellen pointed toward a far corner and I hurried across the room to pick up the blade, testing its weight, its balance, and its sharp cutting edge. ‘Twas a good weapon, even if I didn’t recognize the metal.
“But if I recall, you had no cloak when you came here. You wore no clothes but my own,” he said, one eyebrow raised, a teasing lilt to his words.
Another memory came back swiftly, me changing from a bear to my own skin back in the forest. How he had taken off his cloak to cover me and then later gave me his tunic.
No other man saw my nakedness on that day. No one, but him.
For a moment I remembered how it had felt, leaning back into his arms as we rode here on a tall white horse. I knew now was not the right time to dwell on such things.
But it was hard to stop thinking about it.
Just then something caught my attention, something outside. It wasn’t quite a sound, more like a shifting shadow creeping past the window. The skin on my arms chilled and I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter. I tilted my head, thinking, listening.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, walking to the window and staring outside. All I could see was the snow, falling swift and thick, a white shroud that covered everything near and far. It was so quiet.
Only magic could make everything so silent.
It was as quiet as death.
Chapter 14
“The cloak your daughter took. Was it yours?” I asked.
Kellen frowned, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Maybe. What’s wrong, Eire?”
Stars and moon, it felt good to hear him say my name. It was better than a sigh. But I had to be very careful not to fall prey to these emotions. Not now. All these feelings could be part of the spell.
“Outside, quickly!” I said.
Only one faery was strong enough to craft a spell like this. Faelan. He may be still across the Muir Éireann but, with his blood magic and his human servants, perhaps he could do more than I had imagined. All this time, I thought he was threatening my children.
Now I realized it was probably Isleen he was after.
She was the blood sacrifice that would hurt us the most.
It would slice through Kellen swifter than any blade. I couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt, not the child or the father.
I threw the door open and ran outside. By now, my wolf cubs had woken up and they immediately sensed the danger. The three of us charged out the door, one right after another. Kellen was a step behind us, his bow and arrows ready.
The snow blinded us, it stung and turned our faces to ice. It didn’t stop my wolves though. Both of them snarled, teeth bared, hackles up. They braced the wind and stared into it with glowing eyes, a low rumbling growl in their throats.
“Isleen!” Kellen yelled.
“Find her, boys!” I told my pups and they charged off. Kellen and I had to scramble to keep up with them. We left the cottage door open, yellow light spilling out onto a blue-white horizon. Through the trees and over a bridge we ran, over a path of slippery stones and up a steep hill. All the while, we raced and called out her name.
For a moment, we were lost and none of us knew which way to turn. All around us, the snow fell even harder and I couldn’t see my own feet beneath me.
“This way,” Kellen said after a heartbeat, for he knew this land better than we did. “The devil’s-bit root patch is over there.”
What would happen if Faelan hurt Isleen, I worried as we ran. Would Kellen turn against me, like Greagoir had?
With one well-placed blade, Faelan could destroy the future I hadn’t even realized I wanted until now.
I wanted to stay here, on this small farm, near Kellen and Isleen. I wanted to protect them. I wanted to set my boys free from their magic spell.
I wanted to live the life of a human woman, to choose a man for love, instead of duty.
“Follow the drops of blood,” I said, pointing at the snow. A large full moon peeked out from behind low clouds, just long enough for us to see a path of tiny red droplets. They were few and hard to see, but Ambros and Benen could smell them.
‘Twas blood from Greagoir’s heart, still in the pocket of the cloak Isleen was wearing. Still beating, it was calling to its owner.
“‘Tis me you want, Greagoir!” I cried out. “Let the girl go. Take me instead. You know Faelan won’t be happy until you’ve killed me.”
“Here,” he called back to me, from somewhere just over the nearest ridge.
“Ambros and Benen, come to me!” I cried. They didn’t want to obey, for they were both hunting and eager to find the strange bit of flesh that teased them. “Come here!”
The banshee voice of mine caught them and pulled them back, though they whined all the way.
“I release you from this enchantment. Be free,” I said. “You may be wolves whenever you wish, from this moment forward. But your true shape will always be that of the Tuatha de Danann.”
Stars glistened around the pair of them, a whirlwind of snow and frost enveloped and hid them; when it faded, their white fur melted and they turned back into little boys, one fair-haired, the other dark. They shivered, for they were now naked.
Kellen was not startled at the sight of them. He must have known what they were all along. He merely paused long enough to remove his shirt and hood, and gave his clothing to my lads.
Then we all set off for the top of the ridge and the monster who held sweet Isleen.
Chapter 15
My feet slid, my skirts tangled between my legs, my long hair blew in my eyes, and yet, I was always able to keep the sword—Greagoir’s sword made from this strange new silver metal—in battle position. I was ready to strike. Every muscle in my body sang, my blood ran hot, and the magic in my soul b
egan to spill out.
I began to sing.
Snow and frost, capture Greagoir, hold him fast, make him freeze, make his hands tremble, make him set the child free—
And with my song came courage, enough for all of us. We sorely needed it.
We had to win this battle, one way or another. If I did not take Greagoir’s head, then he would take mine. Either way, I would win. Isleen would be set free and Kellen would take care of my boys. He had already vowed it when we were riding through the forest to get here.
He was a man of his word.
We all crested the last ridge at the same moment, then we paused to get our bearings. Down below us, in the hollow, surrounded by a grove of oak trees, there stood Greagoir, looking as frightening as Caorthannach herself—the mother of all demons. One arrow was still plunged through his chest, another through his left thigh, and one more through his right eye. His right hand had been ripped down the center and now hung in two ragged pieces. Two of the arrows had broken off and looked like wooden knives, but the arrow that pierced his eye was intact and fierce. Yet, not one drop of blood fell from any of his wounds.
His chest was ripped open, my claw marks on his flesh, a gaping wound where his heart should have been.
He was a walking nightmare.
And he clutched Isleen around the throat with his left hand. She trembled, her feet barely touching the ground, her hands grasping at air.
Isleen.
Kellen raised his bow and aimed it at the Leanan Sidhe beast.
“Shoot me again and your precious daughter dies, hunter,” Greagoir said. “Or better yet, she joins me for all of eternity, a companion in my darkness.”
He leaned nearer, jaws opening, teeth poised to bite her shoulder.
I did not hesitate. I raced down the hill toward him, singing one last song to the snow and the frost, commanding them to obey me. My attention remained fixed upon Greagoir’s teeth.
I must stop his bite. Nothing else mattered.
“Drop her, you foul creature, or your death will linger for thousands of years,” I told him as I continued to bridge the gap between us. “I’ll chain you to rocks in the Muir Éireann and you’ll drown three times every day as the tides come in, three slow deaths every day. For all of eternity.”
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