“It can’t be,” she whispered.
“Aye,” Eoghan murmured. “’Tis our place. Where I first laid eyes on ye and will ultimately marry ye.”
“God, Darach,” she whispered into his mind. “This can’t be happening.”
But it was.
They had just arrived at the Celtic Otherworld.
Except it looked far more welcoming. Birds chirped. A light breeze blew, rippling leaves on hundreds of trees. Yet one stood apart from the rest. She recognized it instantly.
A young oak.
It was the same one that would eventually become decrepit and shrunken in the Otherworld. The one she nursed Erin back to health beneath. One she knew Nicole and Rònan had once sat under. More than that, it was the one she and Darach…no, Gwendolyn and Devlin got married beneath.
A marriage that nobody ever knew about.
Was it even valid?
Yet the minute she thought it, her chest tightened and her breathing grew choppy. Gwendolyn took her commitment to Devlin very seriously. Then why hadn’t she said something? Why had she let it get this far?
But as she watched the way Eoghan and his men took over everything and felt the darkness surrounding them, she began to understand. Gwendolyn might have fallen in love with and married another man, but she wasn’t willing to risk the safety of her people for it. People who were clearly in harm’s way if she didn’t marry this monster.
Eoghan threw up his arms and declared, “Let our first-in-commands battle here. Let this be a fight for the ages.”
A roar arose from both Eoghan and Lord Sithchean’s warriors as everyone formed a huge circle, half on one side of the stream, half on the other. Eoghan’s man tore off his armor and tunic. Darach pulled off his cloak and tunic before he leapt the water, turned, crouched and bent his head.
“Remember what I taught you, lass,” he said into her mind. “Become aware of everything around you. The direction of the wind. The landscape. Pay attention to it all so that you might see clearer when it matters most.”
“He looks like a mean bastard, Darach,” she said, her stomach in knots. “I think you should open your eyes.”
His opponent chuckled as he unsheathed his blade and swung it back and forth, his steely gaze never leaving Darach.
“Are you aware of your surroundings, Jackie?” he whispered into her mind.
What? “Are you serious?” She grew more and more anxious as Eoghan’s warrior’s started chanting. “I’m pretty sure it’s all about you right now, Darach.”
“Nay.” He lowered his head even more, almost as if he was disheartened by what was to come. “Right now is about us. Our survival. Close your eyes. Tell me of your surroundings. If you were in my position, what would matter most?”
“This should be bloody good,” Eoghan said with a sneer. “Look, your Da’s warrior already knows his end comes soon.”
“Do it, Jackie,” Darach reiterated. “You’re close enough. Close your eyes and tell me what’s happening around me. Tell me what can be used.”
Oh, the man! Was this really the best time for a lesson? Frustrated, cornered, she scowled.
“Dinnae be mad, just focus,” he said. “Now.”
“Stand, Darach.” She frowned as she watched his opponent pace the opposite shore, a mere fifteen feet away. “Fight him!”
“Let Eoghan enjoy the defeat he thinks he already has and tell me of my surroundings,” Darach said. “Once you do, I will continue to teach you how to fight.”
Darach’s opponent flexed his muscles as he swung a sword in one hand and an axe in the other.
“Prove to me you’re worth training. That you are a lass who can fight like Erin and Nicole.”
Her eyes narrowed. God, he was stubborn. For sure, she was worth training. So she closed her eyes, exhaled…and focused.
The wind blew her hair back. The sun had been setting to her right. So the wind came out of the north. It blustered then dwindled then picked up. No storm was coming. The trees barely moved save the ones she stood near. They were caught in a slight but shifting wind. She tilted her head.
Mountains.
They created a wind tunnel.
Eoghan’s man took a step. It sounded far away, but she knew it was close.
“Verra good,” Darach whispered, sensing her thoughts. “What else can you tell about his step?”
She almost opened her eyes. “That it’s damn close!”
“Nay, Jackie,” he growled, so serious she stopped short. “What else?”
Pissed off, she kept her eyes closed and tried to focus. His enemy had just walked on the rocks next to the stream, he was ready to lash out, then…nothing…why nothing? What gave no sound…what became silent…
“He’s at the edge of the river!” she said. “The ground is soft.”
“Aye, verra good. Now watch,” Darach said calmly. “And whatever you do, dinnae respond. Keep a level head. I’ll be all right.”
Her eyes shot open. What did he mean by that? She soon found out.
Darach never lifted his head but whipped a dagger that caught his nemesis in the thigh. The man fell to his knee, growling as he yanked the blade free. He tossed his head back and laughed before he whipped a dagger. Darach shifted his shoulder just in the nick of time. She almost flinched but schooled her reaction.
Darach stayed put and slumped more, as though he was the one already defeated. Eoghan bought into it and preened.
“I could have killed him already but I would rather everyone underestimate me,” he said. “This also allows more opportunity for you to learn.”
“I’d rather you kill him now,” she muttered. “I can learn later.”
“’Tis always best to assume there willnae be much more time, lass,” he said. “’Tis best that you learn as much as you can now whilst there’s battling to be had.”
Jackie kept scowling, but it was apparently pointless to argue with him.
“Under the assumption that I’m an easy target, several more are about to make their move," he said.
“I thought this was supposed to be one on one,” she said.
“Och, nay,” he murmured. “A man like Eoghan isnae honorable. He meant this to be a quick slaughter. ‘Tis something you should always keep in mind when dealing with your enemy. ‘Tis unlikely they will keep their word.”
Two men moved in Darach’s direction.
“Always assess the various threats coming at you and plan accordingly. The one on the right wants Eoghan to notice him so he’ll make a show of it. It’s the one behind him that could be trouble. He has a steady gaze and cares nothing for what others think," Darach said as the first two men he mentioned rushed at him. “Then there’s a third. The real first-in-command.”
What? She had no chance to question him before he continued.
“The axe is a more cumbersome weapon to carry while fighting so I’ll use it first and take down my immediate threat. The man who cares nothing of what others think.” He reached his arm over his shoulder then whipped an ax. His target fell.
“A dagger is easier to aim and can take down opponents quicker. Just hold it loosely by the hilt, don’t think, just aim and throw.” He whipped one at the guy trying to impress Eoghan then spun and whipped another. It lodged in a man’s shoulder. “That's the real first-in-command. I’ll get back to him in a moment whilst that dagger does its job and weakens his sword arm.”
All the while, Eoghan looked more and more frustrated.
Darach pulled his sword, leapt the stream and used the edge of the blade to splash water in the big guy’s face. The man who was supposed to be first-in-command. Momentarily blinded, he never saw what was coming until Darach’s blade was through his neck.
Her father’s men cheered.
Eoghan cursed, his expression only growing more thunderous as Darach pulled his blade free, leapt the water again and went after the real first-in-command. A slight man who barely came up to his chin.
“Size doesnae matter in
the least,” Darach said. “As you’ll soon find out.”
Darach wasn’t kidding. Despite his injury, the little guy moved with matched speed and agility as they crossed blades. Fast and furious, they drove at each other, spinning, leaping, thrusting. They fought so quickly she barely kept up with Darach’s moves. Yet she didn’t miss how graceful he was. How could she ever hope to fight like that?
“You set your mind to it and practice hard,” he responded. “I will teach you well, lass.”
Jackie pushed her sadness away at the determination in his voice. How convinced he sounded. Because they both knew she didn’t have that kind of time. And neither would Darach if Eoghan got his way.
Though they fought ferociously, it soon became clear that Darach had been wise to whip the dagger into the man’s shoulder. It was just enough to slow him down and leave him vulnerable when the lethal swipe came and opened his throat. Furious, Eoghan growled as the man fell to his knees in front of Darach.
“Darach,” Jackie warned as black started to crackle around Eoghan. “Watch out. Eoghan’s not too happy.”
But Darach was far too busy fighting off several more men who lunged at him. Why didn’t her father’s men—well, Gwendolyn’s father’s men—help? But deep down she knew. If they did, not only their lives but those of their families would be in jeopardy.
Eoghan raised his arms and started chanting.
“No, stop,” she cried, but it was too late. He had summoned evil.
Jackie didn’t think but leapt in front of Eoghan before he brought his wrath down on Darach. Regrettably, she caught the full impact of his fury. She was hit so hard her feet left the ground and she landed on her back. Pain burned and ripped through her chest.
Inescapable, blinding pain.
“Darach, I’m scared,” she whispered as she stared up at the blue sky and something warm trickled from the corner of her lips. “Everything’s going numb again.”
From far, far away she heard both Darach and Eoghan’s roars of denial. Then she heard Chiomara scream. Yet even that drifted farther and farther away as darkness descended.
And her last breath rattled from her lips.
Chapter Twelve
“JACKIE? CAN YOU hear me?” Darach had never felt such fear…such pain. Not just his own but what Devlin once felt. “Dinnae leave me, lass.”
Enraged and terrified, Darach took down one last man willing to rush him despite what had happened. By the time he made it to Jackie, her head rested in Chiomara’s lap and a wide, black burn scarred her chest. Head bent, the druidess remained unnaturally quiet and still as Darach fell to his knees beside her moments after Eoghan.
She couldn’t be dead.
She just couldn’t be.
“Ye did this,” Eoghan seethed at him. “She was always mine. Never yours.”
“Nay,” Chiomara said softly, her eyes slowly rising to Eoghan. “She was always Devlin’s and ye bloody well knew it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Her blood will forever be on your hands, druid. Ye did this when ye forced Gwendolyn to be yours. When ye threatened our people if ye could not have your way.”
Horrified, Eoghan stared at Jackie and shook his head. “Nay, I will not let her go.” He flung his head back, closed his eyes and started chanting. “I call on Balor, God of Death, give me this lass and I will belong to ye for all eternity.”
“Nay,” Chiomara cried before she flung her head back, closed her eyes and started chanting. “I call on Brigit, Goddess of Divination, to protect my sister’s soul from evil. For this, I will forever do your bidding.”
Wind whipped and immense power fluctuated around the druids. Darach pulled Jackie onto his lap. “I’ve got you, lass,” he whispered in her ear, his brogue thickening with emotion. “I’ll never let ye go.” Then it was Devlin speaking. “I’ll find ye life after life till we can be together again. He will never have you.”
Yet even as he said it, he knew it was being taken out of his hands…out of Devlin’s.
The grass around Eoghan started to die as he continued chanting. Determined to keep Jackie free of his taint, Darach lifted her and staggered against the wind-driven magic toward the oak. More and more land died as the wind grew colder. By the time he sank down against the tree with her on his lap, their surroundings had begun to look eerily familiar.
The riverbed went dry. Leaves turned brown and fell from their limbs. Even the ocean seemed darker and more sinister.
Everything was turning into the Otherworld.
A place, it seemed, solely created for and by this event.
Darach pulled her closer as dark clouds started to twist over Eoghan. Yet something else happened as well. A golden light formed around Chiomara until a beautiful, glowing woman materialized.
“Ye called on me, child,” the woman said. “Ye wish me to save your sister’s soul.”
“Aye, Goddess Brigit.” Chiomara lowered her head. “In exchange, I will do anything ye ask of me.”
“Anything?” Brigit kept her gaze steady. “’Tis a great feat ye ask of me, Druidess. One that will require sacrifice.”
“Anything at all,” Chiomara reiterated. “My sister has watched over me and protected me when others would not. I will do the same for her.”
Brigit considered her for a moment before her eyes drifted to Darach and Jackie. A blink later, she stood in front of them. He was unprepared for the emotion that blew through him when her eyes locked with his. While he knew it was the goddess’s power, he also realized it was a reflection of what existed inside him. His feelings for Jackie. “Such love ye have for this lass, warrior,” she whispered. “Timeless. Enviable. Worth repeating.”
The dark cloud grew thicker and thicker over Eoghan.
“Come here, Druidess Chiomara,” Brigit said as she made a fist then rubbed her fingers together. Bright light glowed then faded as she crouched. The Goddess took Jackie’s hand and slid a ring on it.
The ring.
Jackie’s Claddagh ring.
“This is the first of its kind and will protect your sister in the afterlife,” Brigit murmured to Chiomara before her eyes met Darach's. “She will find ye again in other lives as will the ring when ‘tis meant to be. ‘Twill help protect her against evil. But so too will it make her a beacon.”
Dumbfounded but grateful, he whispered, “Thank ye.”
“As with any divine spell, there must be a price paid. A sacrifice.” Sadness filled her eyes. “Hers will be to forever die young as she did in this life. A repeated cycle to keep the balance.”
Darach felt her revelation like a punch to the gut. No wonder Jackie was sick.
Brigit’s eyes went to Chiomara. “Though ye will remember very little of what happens here today, ye must sacrifice as well. Great darkness comes to assist Eoghan and we must remain one step ahead. For at least this lifetime, I will redirect the druid’s passion for Gwendolyn so that he desires ye instead and does not pursue your sister right away.”
“Aye, Goddess,” Chiomara said. “Of course.”
“When I leave here, ye shall travel the land of Eire and begin helping others,” Brigit said. “Ye will become well known as a great Druidess.”
The dark cloud had nearly twisted into the shape of a man when the oak died. But not before its last acorn fell into the goddess’s hand. “As I now deem foretold by the others, ye will someday be called to the circle of stones beneath the oak. That oak will be the offspring of this acorn and well-aged indeed. Like every oak born of it, ‘twill be a Tree of Life. There ye will come together with Erc Breac, King of Dalriada.”
When Chiomara’s brows perked, Brigit held up a finger of warning. “’Twill be but one coupling only before Fionn Mac Cumhail delivers something to ye. When asked, ye will give them to me. Do ye understand?”
“Aye.” Chiomara murmured a prayer. “’Twill be as ye wish, Goddess.”
Brigit was about to say something else when the ground trembled.
Balor had arrived.
“Ye will
answer for this Brigit!” he roared seconds before the Goddess flung up her arms and a bright light blinded Darach. Then it faded only to be replaced by images twisting around him. The dead oak at his back then a gnarly oak overseeing five standing stones, then the oak growing up the side of the mountain in Scotland. Next came the oak in front of MacLomain Castle then the oak in front of the Colonial in New Hampshire.
Then all went dark.
Silent.
“Wake up, Son. Ye must wake up now.”
“Da?” he tried to say, but nothing came out. He felt heavy, weighed down…lost.
“Follow the sound of my voice,” Grant urged, distressed. “And find your way back to me, Darach.”
“Aye,” he managed to whisper as he trailed after his father’s voice. Strong magic kept drawing him further and further out. As it did, the darkness finally faded away. The moment he was able to, he searched out Jackie. She was still in his arms, on his lap, with her cheek pressed against his chest.
“Jackie?” Fear gripped him as he tried to figure out if she was breathing, if she was alive. “Speak to me, lass.”
“Shh, Darach,” Erin whispered. “Your dad’s bringing her back.”
Only then did he realize they had returned to the small cave off the glade. Not only were Grant and Erin there, but Heidrek and Rònan. His cousin gripped his shoulder in support but remained silent as Grant held Jackie’s hands and kept chanting with an intense look on his face.
Suddenly, Jackie gasped and arched.
“Bloody hell,” Darach murmured and kept a firm hold on her. “I’ve got ye, lass.”
She blinked rapidly and inhaled several more times before her eyes shot to him. “What happened? Where are we?”
“We’re back in the cave.” His heart hammered as he rubbed her arms. “You’re okay. Alive.”
Jackie felt her chest where Eoghan’s burn mark had been. “I don’t understand…how…”
When she trailed off, Grant spoke. “Erin had a vision out by the fire. She was with you in the Celtic Otherworld. She saw Jackie attacked by Eoghan then nothing more.”
Passion of a Scottish Warrior (The MacLomain Series: Later Years Book 4) Page 16