Reliquary's Choice: Book Two of The Celtic Prophecy

by Melissa Macfie

  Nimue surged at him forcing his chin down with a strength that belied her frame, “And when will ye learn, my bright boy that I doona care what ye kin. Ye will do as ye are told.” She held her fingers up over her head, and tore at the air. Nothing happened at first, but then a slight distortion in the air beyond the deity’s hand began to grow. Brenawyn rubbed at her eyes, but Alex’s response was all she needed. His eyes grew wide and he would have cowered away if not for the vice on his chin. Brenawyn was not hallucinating. “Or would ye prefer ta catch the attention o’ the Hunter again? The transformations are getting harder ta bear, are they no’? Without me, ye’d be crawling, begging for yer life ta end. Nothing would be real but the pain.”

  Pleading, “No, please. I humbly apologize. Doona drop the glamor. Please, no’ yet. I canna go back yet.”

  Nimue considered him for a moment and must have been satisfied because with a flick of her wrist the distortion was gone, she patted his cheek and she released him. “Be a good boy and show her.”

  Brenawyn, stepping forward stammered, “Please, he … he doesn’t need to show me anything. I’ve seen him turn into a wolf. I don’t have any doubts about his strength. Please. You’re his mother. How could you do this to him?”

  She swiveled to face Brenawyn, “I am losing my patience at yer insolence, child. Doona make the mistake ta cross me again. Agreement or no’.” Looking back at Alex she said, “prophecy or no’, nothing will remain of ye but ashes.”

  “Brenawyn, a chuisle mo chroi, understand that she means every word. Step back and be forewarned. The wolf was,” ripping his shirt over his head, she heard the familiar cracking of bones, “just the beginning.” The rending of denim came next as his body, wracked with pain, crouched. Brown fur sprouted and ran along his back like a chain of dominos, creaking as muscle massed under the new pelt. Grunts gave way to the growl of the bear she saw in the other realm. The same? Was it the same? Just as the transformation was complete, the Bear—Alex—bent again, the cracking of bone rang out sickening loud against the wall of the forest around them. Riveted, she watched as the thick brown pelt was replaced by the spotted hide of a leopard. Standing in place, where just seconds before stood the bear, now a leopard stared at Brenawyn. Without breaking the gaze, the leopard hunched down, lower than the bear. Popping and cracking, the leopard cried out, panted, a second cry cut short by the lonely shriek of a hawk. Feathers replaced the spotted fur, lastly developing on arms turned wings. This was the same hawk, just as it was the leopard, the bear, and the wolf. Brenawyn stood horrified and Alex beat his wings. Small whirlwinds loosed dirt and pebbles as he took flight.

  Brenawyn ducked, not out of necessity, but rather reflex. She watched as he flapped his wings to get above the tree line and then glide in wide lazy circles once, twice, three times before coming down to land in the same spot. The hawk stood with his wings out and the change came again. Molting feathers, which disappeared before hitting the ground, left the dusky skin of Alex standing naked in all his glory. His manhood jutted out from his body and Brenawyn felt her cheeks flame and she looked away, glancing at Nimue, who stood off to the side looking, surprisingly, at her.

  Nonplussed at the events or his state of arousal, Brenawyn had no time to consider the machinations of this crazy bitch and looked at Alex again. His runes glowed red and blue starting on his chest and racing outward—torso, abdomen, legs; he was covered. She gasped in horror as out of the corner of her eye she saw a man of sorts, made of mud and rock, rush at Alex. He held a blade of deepest black and Alex met him unarmed. The assailant swung wide, but Alex pivoted and feinted, over and over, moving the fight closer to the tree line. Brenawyn followed at a distance, looking for anything she could use as a weapon. If his mother could sit idly back and do nothing, wait …  she sent the damn thing. Shit, I have to do something. But what? A gun would be good. A sword, though she had doubts that she’d be able to lift it to bring it down with any force. Force enough to what? Distract it for a moment and hopefully Alex could do whatever he was going to do? Time enough for him to get whatever weapon he was going to get. What the hell was she thinking? Shit. Think, Brenawyn. Think. What the fuck is happening! Now would be a good time to wake up.

  But she knew that she was awake. Alex gained the oak and planted his feet wide, back braced against the trunk. In seconds that seemed like years, she saw the dark blade come down on Alex’s exposed neck. She screamed.

  The man jumped. Odd. And stopped for the fraction of a second, enough for Alex to grab the blade of the sword. Alex’s runes grew brighter as he yanked the sword from the mud man’s hands. Blood dripped from his own hand, but he was able to grip the pommel with both hands.

  Forcing the creature back, Alex hacked at his exposed parts: an arm, an outstretched leg. Shearing off bits of what looked like …  mud. How could that be?

  Alex advanced and brought the battle perilously close to where she stood. Brenawyn gasped as Alex threw the sword, skewering his opponent through the head, but yet the creature fought on, swinging mechanically. Alex, apparently having enough of the fight, stepped into the opponent’s swing. He put his hand on the chest of the thing, ripped out the blade and said a few words that Brenawyn couldn’t understand. The thing’s chest exploded scattering mud in a wide circle. Brenawyn ran to his side sliding on her knees the last few feet just as Alex hit the ground. “What the hell was that?”

  “A construct. Nimue favors them. T’is nothing more than a small portion o’ will poured inta a bit o’ indigenous earth. A parlor trick, anyone with a shadow o’ talent can do them. The number that they can control is what separates the men from boys, or in this case, deities from mortals. I kin ye willna believe it, but she was being kind. This was a demonstration o’ my abilities and t’is no’ over. Before t’is done ye’ll see the monster I am.”

  Brenawyn moved closer, but the brush of his leg against hers brought the reality of what he had named himself to the front of her mind. She stumbled back, trying to focus her eyes on anything but …  “Are you all right?”

  Alex wiped at his forehead. “I’m fine. Am pure done in. Quick transformations are draining. In the field, such a display is never used. Wastes precious seconds, and seconds can win or lose a battle.”

  The hairs on the back of Brenawyn’s neck tingled and she knew without looking that Nimue was there. “Let us continue the demonstration.”

  “Enough, Mother. She’s seen enough for today. I hold ye ta our agreement.”

  Her head cocked to the side, and with what could be seen as motherly love, for those that had the fortune not to see the origins of the struggle, she glided over, for Brenawyn did not see her feet move, to caress Alex’s cheek. “Ta our agreement,” she said, turning to bow to Brenawyn, “and ta the covenant. Rest now, son. Take yer ease with the mother o’ yer child if ye choose. The time is quickly approaching.”

  Chapter 7

  Fireflies glinted here and there, even though it was too late in the evening for them. They floated in, multiplying until they were a veil of twinkling lights around Nimue lifting wisps of her hair, the edges of her clothes, and then the space she occupied was empty. She was gone, the fireflies with her. The surrounding forest let out a sigh and Brenawyn could hear the sounds of the forest again, creatures flitting in the trees, scurrying under the brush. Spencer whined on the edge of the clearing, Leo or Maggie must have let him out, and he had found her. He sniffed the air and crept over, tentatively at first, but once past an invisible barrier he ran and hit Brenawyn mid-chest, and managed to wiggle, lick her face, and stand over her defensively in unison. “It’s all right, boy. I’m fine.”

  She scuttled over to Alex, scooting the last few feet on her rear. He sat with his leg outstretched, staring intently at the back of the house in the distance. He jumped when she touched him, going for the sword automatically. “Whoa, easy, it’s just me.”

  He sighed and reached for her hand, “Och, aye, t’is you. Are ye well, lass?”


  Brenawyn laughed stiffly, “Are you?”

  “Aye, I am sound. I meant,” he touched her temple, “haur, lass. Are ye a’richt?”

  “I got what I asked for, stuff for new nightmares. God, I was so stupid. What was real? Was it always abusive, did he shows signs early on? Putting that aside, because Lord knows, I’ll never be able to get a handle on that. How he treated me. Why did I put up with it? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Ye should ken why, Brenawyn.”

  “Oghma said that he can’t give me insight into men’s motives.”

  “Ye already ha’ it. Ye lived with the man for years ‘afore his death, and e’en if the memory binding was in place, thaur were hints. What dae ye ken? This behavior, these actions, and the medallion ye found hidden in his belongings—he was a practitioner, wanting ta access yer latent abilities. The memory bindings were in place for years, three a’ the very least, since his death, and possibly from the verra beginning, or a’ least from the time he had access ta yer grandmother’s attic for the first o’ the three placements, the third was probably the one ye found first. He wouldna ha’ thought that he was going ta die, and barring that ye wouldna go through his belongings.

  Knowing Oghma the way I dae, for the phrasing of yer request, ‘tell me what ta believe’ thaur has ta be more. What did he reveal ta ye?”

  “I can’t even think straight, and you want me to recall a detailed conversation? Wait, before I get into that, how about, what the fuck just happened?

  I can almost … almost make sense of Oghma—I can’t believe I’m saying that. I mean, it’s like I just went to fairyland and met a god and a goddess, and I’m okay with that.” Brenawyn paused. “Holy shit. I think I’m okay with that! Jesus Christ, I need to be committed.” She heard her voice increase an octave, and felt the hysterics bubble up, “I mean I’m ready for the ‘nice young men in their clean white coats coming to take me away! HoHo HeHe HaHa. To the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time.” she recited from an old song by Jerry Samuels.

  Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “Calm down. Calm down!” he had Brenawyn by the shoulders at this point, shaking her, “Get yerself together, woman! T’is nay time for being daft.”

  “Being daft? You want to know who’s daft. Your wack-job of a mother! Who does that? Causes their child pain? Puts him in danger?”

  Alex burst out laughing. Whatever Brenawyn had expected this wasn’t it, which caused him to laugh all the more. “Aye, well, that’s what I get for having a, what was the term ye used? A wack-job goddess as a mother.”

  His reaction sobered her enough to stop her rant. She sat quiet with her hands buried in Spencer’s fur as he lay next to her.

  After a bit, she turned to him, “I’m sorry. With everything that I have witnessed in the last weeks, I should be more acclimated to,” she waved her hand in the air.

  Alex nodded in understanding, “I’m sairy lass for the bluntness o’ yer exposure; I should ha’ found a better way o’ preparing ye for yer interview with a goddess. Wording o’ requests need ta be carefully constructed but if no’ for yer fumbled attempt, ye would still be partially in the dark. Something that we canna ha’ for yer own safety.”

  “Let me see to your wounds. There’s a first aid kit in the house. Do you need my help getting up, Alex?”

  “No, lass I’m fine.” Grunting as he got up, “I doona need the first aid kit, though ye do need the practice at attending wounds. Come, ye’ll have yer first lesson as a field medic with me as yer guinea pig.” He shuffled off in the opposite direction from the house, holding his side.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Ah, I’ll need more privacy ta shift. T’is mostly exhaustion from shifting, but I think the construct bruised my ribs, perhaps fractured a couple; it hurts ta breathe. If that’s true, it will be more painful and I doona want ta attract more attention from the neighbors no matter how far off they are.

  Brenawyn followed, unsure of what he wanted her to do. Despite his limping gait, and labored breathing, Brenawyn had to almost jog to keep up. “You’re in pain. How can I help?”

  “Start back ta the house. I’ll be following above.”

  “Why not spare yourself the pain and walk back with me?”

  “Trews, woman, trews. Ye canna expect me ta walk up ta the house in my altogether.”

  Brenawyn couldn’t help but smile, “You walking out of the trees in yer altogether,” affecting a semblance of his accent, “would certainly attract attention.”

  “Aye, but before we go, lass, thaur needs ta be something settled between us. What were the terms o’ yer covenant with Nimue?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t we just … ”

  Alex turned his head away and said, “No. I need ta hear ye say it,” barely audible.

  Brenawyn wiped her clammy hands on the back of her shorts, “I bargained for your … um, life.”

  “Damn, ye woman!” Alex paced off, and struck the trunk of the nearest tree with his fist. Leaves rained down on his head, but it was satisfying, so he hit it a few more times, bloodying his knuckles until a premature crab apple clocked him on the top of the head. This gave him pause, and he looked up considering. “I doona ken, why.” He looked at the trunk again and splayed his open hand covering an old wound where the tree had lost a mature branch. He hadn’t turned to her. “Ye ha’ had a hand in raising me from the deid.”

  Brenawyn approached and reached out to touch his shoulder. “I don’t pretend to know how it works, but I’ll not regret it. I don’t regret it.”

  He pivoted, and advanced on her. “Perhaps ye doona ken then, or are ye truly daft? I am nay longer a man, for a ha’ nay soul. I am an empty husk,” indicating his body, “and halfway ta being a shade. I ha’ nothing ta offer …  I ha’ nothing ta offer ye.

  “I saw you change and fight. What more is there that I have not witnessed?”

  “Magic, beyond shape-shifting, I can call the elements as aids in offensive and defensive magic, simultaneously if necessary, and it usually is.”

  She crowded him, her ire up, “Well, beast master, magic man, I foreswore my familial connections and my life as I know it and took the mantle of high priestess, all to save you. Our fates are now intertwined.”

  “No! Say ye didna!” He grabbed her arms pulling her close. “Woman, listen ta me. What were the words ye recited?”

  “Um, I, I don’t remember exactly.”

  “Tell me.”

  “She made me repeat your full name, and the names of your father and grandfather.”

  “Aye, and what more?”

  Brenawyn shook her head, staring off to the side, “Claiming you as my own? And … ”

  Alex groaned and pushed her to an arm’s distance to look in her eyes. “Please lass, say it no’ be so. Say ye did not repeat that ye’d wander eternally if ye’d fail a’ yer task?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Well … um.” Brenawyn paused to look down for a moment, but almost as quickly as if she decided something, she raised her head locking eyes and whispered, “And if I did?”

  Alex pulled her close clutching at her back, trembling. She tilted her face to him, and he claimed her mouth. She pressed her body against him. Hard, he wanted nothing more than to push inside of her, and find his release, his home; filling her with his seed when she quickened around him, but sobering reality struck. Brenawyn was feeling the pull of the blood vow, the instinctual need to consummate.

  “Ye doona know what ye ha’ done.”

  “Shush, you talk too much.” Brenawyn gripped his shaft, and he groaned, but he put a steadying hand on hers.

  “Thaur was a chance for ye ‘afore.”

  Brenawyn pried his hand off of hers and renewed her efforts to stroke him. “I can think of several things you can do with your mouth, and none of them involve speaking.”

  “Brenawyn, wait, I offered ye a chance ta choose.”

  “Yes, and I’ve chosen.” She reac
hed behind her back and with one hand unclasped her bra. In one motion, she took both her tee-shirt and undergarment off over her head, and sank to her knees. Her mouth closed on his head, and she moved to take more of him in.

  Alex moaned, and she slowed.

  “Aye, t’is all for naught. Ye are a slave as much as I am.” He put his hands in her hair, and he could feel the vibrations from her amusement, a most intriguing feeling. She splayed her hand on his abdomen, and slowly withdrew scraping her teeth along his shaft. Alex inhaled through his teeth. “Och, woman, that feels good.”

  After a few minutes of exquisite torture, he could feel the sensation rushing towards its inevitable end. He stepped away before she took him deep again. He raised her so she was standing, and cupped her breasts, his head dipped to suckle and she arched against his forearm braced against her lower back. His free hand found the waistband of her shorts and made quick work of loosening the garment.

  His hand slipped inside fingers questing for her hot slick core. She shivered when he rubbed against her sensitivity.

  “Please.”

  “Please what, Brenawyn?”

  “Fuck me,” she pleaded breathlessly.

  Alex chuckled, “in time.” He removed his hand, and kissed her opened mouth. “Come.”

  She laughed, “That’s where I was headed before you took your fingers away.”

  He bit her lower lip and grabbed her ass, bringing her up hard against him, “Aye, I ken that, but ye’ll no’ thank me for splinters in yer arse later because I ha’ a mind ta take ye up against yonder tree.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Just a few steps more we’ll be in the shadows completely and thaur’s a lovely patch o’ moss that I want ta stretch ye out on.”

  The moss wasn’t hard to find and Alex laid her on it bending down to pay homage to one breast then the other. He trailed kisses from the hollow between her breasts, to her rib cage, and her abdomen, before coming to rest at her core, his arms hooked under her legs, hands pressed into her hips. She gasped at first contact of his tongue and rose to meet him making deep guttural sounds of eminent satisfaction. “Woman, I like the sounds ye make,” and bent to his task.