Oath of a Warrior

by Mary Morgan

  Confused, Conn’s brow furrowed, and he folded his arms over his chest. “Why?”

  “Rory threatened them. They now fear the warrior.”

  “I heard the account given of how his mood shifted, but cannot fathom as to why he would do violence against another here in his homeland. Have you seen him?”

  “Nae, he has blocked the vision mirrors in the room.”

  “By the hounds! There must be another way,” argued Conn.

  Taran shifted slightly. “You could seek him out.”

  Conn glanced sharply at his friend. “Asked and denied by the Fae council. Although, I might have a way to see inside the room.”

  Arching a brow, Taran inquired, “Care to share your knowledge?”

  Clamping a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, Conn responded, “I shall seek out the seer.”

  Taran snorted. “Good luck with gaining entrance. The last time you attempted any information, she banned you from her land.”

  “Yes, but I was only a Fenian Warrior. Now, I am the Prince of the Fae seeking help for one of our own. In the meantime, you return to Rory’s room and stand guard. The Fae council has granted a stay of his trial, but I do not trust them. My instincts warn me it’s only a matter of days before they call him forth. If they should come for him, seal the doors and alert me. Use whatever means, including how the orders came from Prince Conn.”

  His fellow warrior let out a soft curse. “Will the king support you?”

  “He will always defend his son’s actions.”

  Giving Conn a mock salute, Taran vanished in a flash of light.

  Waiting for a few moments, Conn reflected on his friend’s words about the seer. Shoving aside the doubt, he waved his hand in an arc and magically transported to the edge of the seer’s lands.

  Breathing in deeply of the crisp, autumn air, he strode with purpose across the wide path lined with oak and rowan trees. Her home was perched beyond the valley of the Fae, secluded within a thick grove of pines. She favored the forests and deep glens and never came to the palace. On the contrary, all went to seek her for wisdom and guidance. Her counsel was regarded with respect, though Conn knew firsthand that the seer’s wisdom was not always accurate.

  Closing the door on his own past, he moved along quickly. An owl hooted from within the thick branches, and he nodded in greeting. Dark eyes regarded him for a few seconds before taking flight deeper into the trees. Most likely, the bird was alerting its mistress of his presence. If Conn were not welcome, he would feel her wrath soon.

  Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he caught a glimpse of a lone figure at the end of the path. Her ebony cloak swayed in the light breeze, and she leaned upon her crystal staff. Stunned to find the seer waiting for him, he quickly masked his surprise and walked toward the woman.

  The seer inclined her head slightly. “Prince Conn.”

  “Lady Emer,” he acknowledged, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you for greeting me.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Did I have a choice?”

  “There are always choices to be presented.”

  She waved him off. “I am in no mood to banter philosophy and words with you, Conn. I know what you seek.”

  Surprised for a second time, he asked, “Then you will grant what I need to see?”

  “State your reason to see within the Fenian Warrior’s prison.”

  “The warrior is refusing food, drink, and all communication. I fear he is retreating, and I must unravel the reason. This is not the warrior I know.”

  “It is his choice.”

  Tempering his fury, Conn explained, “A Fenian Warrior does not give up. Our training—”

  “Our?” she interrupted. “You are no longer a Fenian Warrior.”

  “I will always be a part of the Brotherhood, Lady Emer. Furthermore, as the warriors are now under my command, I consider it my right to protect all, especially Rory as he awaits his trial. I have already spoken with the Fae council, and they will be calling him forth soon.”

  Lady Emer lifted her staff and stepped back from Conn. “Walk with me.”

  He followed alongside as she made her way through the trees. As he pushed away heavy pine limbs, the path narrowed and she took the lead. Onward they went, and he pondered why she did not magically transport them. Her movements were slow, but steady, and he found himself losing patience.

  “Temper the anger,” she ordered.

  He rolled his eyes, but smiled. Taking a deep breath, he released his anxiety on the exhale.

  As they made their way through the dense trees, the landscape opened to reveal a cave within a moss-covered hill. Vines snaked around the top, and Conn spotted the owl perched off to the side. Making their way upward through the soft grasses, they soon came upon the entrance.

  The seer turned toward him. “Once you are inside, do not utter a word. Seal your mind and tongue. Do you understand?”

  Conn nodded.

  Upon entering the cavern, warmth enveloped them. Lady Emer lifted her staff, and brilliant lights glittered in the darkness. She tapped it once to the ground, and the place exploded in an array of dazzling colors. Crystals of different shapes and sizes littered the area. The walls of the cave were smooth, and the radiance of the crystals surrounded them in its glow. In the center of the cave sat a huge rose quartz fountain. Water bubbled softly upward, filling the cave with the scent of roses.

  Gesturing for Conn to sit on a polished boulder, Lady Emer moved silently to the fountain. Placing her staff on the ledge, she raised her hands outward and the water took on a crystal globe suspended over the well. Lights sparkled within the sphere, changing and illuminating.

  Conn leaned forward and braced his arms on his thighs.

  Images of the realm passed through the globe in a kaleidoscope of multicolored pictures until they settled and formed outside of the Room of Reflection.

  “Brush aside the darkness and set forth the light of truth,” the seer uttered softly and closed her eyes.

  Conn stood and watched as the doors vanished to reveal Rory’s prison. Memories of his own confinement opened old wounds, but he quickly banished them. As he searched within the room for his friend, worry took hold, and he took a step forward. Food, drink, and books remained untouched on a table, and his bed showed no signs of being used.

  Finally, he glimpsed a black shadow in the far corner of the room, and his fists clenched by his sides. He barely registered the outline of his friend. Worry turned to fear, but Conn kept silent as he waited for the seer to finish.

  Lady Emer frowned, and her hands shook. “No.” Her voice shook with emotion. “This cannot be.” Opening her eyes, she dropped her hands, and the image vanished, sending the crystal sphere spiraling back into the water.

  Conn’s patience was unraveling.

  Eyes that held sadness gazed at him. “He dreams.”

  Stunned, he could no longer keep silent. “Not possible. Once we enter the Brotherhood and take our vows as a Fenian Warrior, we are no longer able to dream. The ability is stripped from us. It helps to keep us sane with all that we must do, especially for those who travel the Veil of Ages.”

  She arched a brow and pointed a finger at the fountain. “Nevertheless, Rory MacGregor is having the same dream—nightmare each night within his prison. He is hiding something.”

  “Can you tell me anything else?” he demanded.

  “The answer to your question lies with the Fenian Warrior. The warriors are the most powerful—the elite. In addition, I have witnessed a similar occurrence. It is only spoken of in hushed circles within the realm of certain warriors who have walked this path of despair and loneliness hundreds of years before my time.”

  The walls of the cave felt as if they were closing in around him. Conn uttered a curse and stepped quickly out of the cavern. Glancing up at the azure sky, he took in deep calming breaths. This could not be possible. Not to a Fenian Warrior. Not to his friend.

  Lad
y Emer joined him outside. “Then you realize what is happening to him?”

  “Yes,” he snapped, unable to control his fury. “Rory is slipping into the Realm of Sorrows. His guilt is too much to bear.”

  She placed a gentle hand on Conn’s arm. “If he is not saved, he will cross over into the realm and walk the land as a shadow. Forever.”

  Chapter Two

  “When the darkness brings comfort, beware the loss of emotions.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Pacing the length of the room within the inner chambers of the Brotherhood, Conn waited for Fenian Warrior and friend, Ronan MacGuinness. After leaving the seer, he’d considered it best to seek out more aid in protecting Rory. He was not about to surrender his friend to the Fae council. In Rory’s condition, he would surely destroy everyone and then flee. He had heard the accounts only once as a Fenian Warrior. The elders had spoken of the few Fenian Warriors who had passed over to another chasm between the human and Fae worlds in hushed tones, fearing they would somehow appear if they uttered their names out loud. These warriors became outcast or worst, died, battling the dark shadows that plagued them.

  Conn pounded his fist on the massive oak table. “I will not let you succumb to the void!”

  “What troubles ye?” Ronan appeared in a flash of light by his side. He took a hold of Conn’s arm. “’Tis Ivy? Is she unwell? As her former guardian, I would do anything for her. Those days I spent escorting her around the kingdom during her healing shall remain fond memories.”

  Letting out a frustrated sigh, Conn shook his head. “My wife is well. It is another.” Pushing away from the table, he asked, “Have you concluded your mission in Scotland?”

  Ronan frowned. “Aye, eons ago. Why?”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Conn retorted, “You are continuing to speak in the old tongue of the humans.”

  The warrior shrugged. “I favor the language.”

  Giving his friend a slight smile, he motioned for him to sit. Taking a seat across from him, Conn placed his hands on the table. “I am preparing to take over the trial of Rory MacGregor. I must have witnesses who will swear an oath of silence to what happens at his trial.”

  Ronan leaned forward in his chair. “Ye ken the Fae council will not permit this act of interference. Ye may now command us, but ye were warned—nae ye were forbidden to stay away from Rory and Liam.”

  He snorted in disgust. “I can no longer sit idle and watch another warrior—my friend slip deeper into an abyss.”

  His friend rubbed his chin. “Whispers are traveling the realm of how he threatened his guards with one look. Did the council give ye permission to speak with him?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Conn shook his head. “Not directly.”

  Ronan raised a brow in question. “Should I ask how?”

  “No. Nevertheless, our friend is in grave danger if he stays within his confinement.”

  “Nae,” he uttered in a shocked tone. “I cannae believe he is in danger within—”

  Conn held up his hand to stay his friend’s words. “Furthermore, if and when he is to appear before the council, I believe it will be too late. In truth, I am doing the members a favor by relieving them of this dangerous situation. They have no idea how to control a Fenian Warrior when one begins to descend into the void. I risk much, including any others I bring in to hear his account. Yet, I surmise this is the only solution. It will be dangerous. This is why I have asked you here. You are one of the strongest and most powerful warriors.”

  Silence descended in the room.

  Fisting his hands on the table, Ronan asked, “What do ye require of me?”

  Relief coursed through Conn, and he let out the breath he was holding in. “Taran is presently guarding him. I require another to stand with him as well.”

  The warrior waved his hand. “Why not bring him here?”

  “I might be Prince of the Fae, but I have no wish to start bending the laws of our people without permission.”

  “And your plan?”

  “To seek approval from my king.”

  Ronan let out a groan. “Ye tempt fate asking your father to override the council’s orders.”

  Conn laughed bitterly. “Did he not do the same for me?”

  “True,” Ronan agreed. “Yet, I cannae fathom what could have sent Rory into the darkness.”

  Sighing, Conn pinched the bridge of his nose. “He is dreaming.”

  The warrior stood. “’Tis madness! How?”

  “He is holding onto a secret within his mind, body, and heart. When he entered his prison, they somehow surfaced. It is festering within him.”

  Ronan placed his hand over his heart. “Regardless of your conversation with the king, I am here to serve you and the Brotherhood. I will do what it takes to protect the life of a fellow warrior.”

  Conn rose slowly. “Now you understand my urgency to bring him forth. Speak of this to no one. Once the king hears my plea, I am positive he will grant me full disclosure and aid. I have no wish to see our friend’s name blackened throughout the realm. His trial shall be handled with secrecy within the walls of the Brotherhood.”

  “Ye have my allegiance and trust.” Drawing a sign in the air, the Fenian Warrior vanished.

  Straightening his tunic, Conn magically transported himself to the royal chambers of his parents. Walking along the marbled pathway, he nodded to the guard in passing. The gilded doors opened silently, and he stepped through. Entering the vast chamber, he proceeded down the corridor on the left, praying he would find his father in his private office. Knowing the time of day, he often found the man alone with his favorite scrolls in this place of solace.

  Pausing outside the rowan doors, he lifted his hand and knocked softly. When all remained quiet, Conn frowned and wove a single thought outward to his father.

  “I wish to discuss an urgent matter with you. Are you nearby?”

  “Meet me in the Library of the Ancients,” commanded his father.

  In a flash of light, Conn did as his father ordered. The library was one revered by every one of the Fae, since it held all the tomes, knowledge, and wisdom of his people from their homeland of Taralyn. Conn had recently ventured inside the sacred place. He had wished to study the lore of his home, particularly the flora and fauna. He yearned to recreate a flower for his wife, Ivy. Sadly, he was unable to get any to bloom, so he described in vivid detail every petal, stem, and the scent.

  Conn smiled at the memory, especially at what followed afterward in their garden by the waterfall.

  “I grant you permission,” acknowledged King Ansgar.

  Startled from his pleasurable thought, he turned around to face his father. “For what?”

  The king slipped a ribbon in place between the silver pages of the book opened on the desk. “You must see to the Fenian Warrior’s trial, and immediately.” Closing the massive tome, he folded his arms over his chest.

  Stunned by his father’s declaration, Conn ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Then you have heard?”

  “The moment his guards were threatened. They say his eyes are shifting to a darker color as well.”

  “Shit,” he clipped out.

  His father arched a brow at his use of the human curse word. “It is far worse than anyone imagines.”

  Conn braced his hands on the massive desk. “Any words of wisdom?”

  Tapping the ancient tome, his father replied, “There have only been two who have witnessed a Fenian Warrior descend to the Realm of Sorrows—one has since departed this realm to the land of Tir na Og.”

  Conn surmised the other person was his father. “Were you the other?”

  King Ansgar shifted away from the desk. “No. At the time, I was courting your mother. I gave no thought to any others. I had recently ascended to the throne and was not concerned with the warriors.”

  Detecting sadness in his father’s words, Conn stepped near him. “You are not responsible for the path a warrior chooses.”
>
  His father glanced away. “Seek out the elder, Loran. He must be present when you question the warrior.”

  Ahh…so Loran was the other Fae involved. “Thank you, Father.”

  Turning to leave, Conn paused and glanced over his shoulder. “If I may ask, who was the Fenian Warrior? And did he survive?”

  Deep sorrow filled King Ansgar’s eyes as he met Conn’s gaze. “My brother, Baine, was the warrior. In a desperate attempt to slay me and claim the throne, Loran was forced to kill him. Baine’s name has been stricken from all accounts, save one.” King Ansgar nodded to the book.

  “Father,” he uttered in a shocked tone.

  The king held up his hand. “Do not pity me. Nor ask for reasons.” Moving toward Conn, he placed both hands on his shoulders. “Find the source of the warrior’s misery and have him confront it. It is essential he be cleansed.”

  “If he fails?” whispered Conn.

  King Ansgar stood back. “Then act swiftly on his death. For his mind will consume all who he is, and he will no longer be the Fae you know.”

  In a brilliant arc of light, his father left.

  Clenching his fists, Conn shook his head. “Death is not an option for my friend!”

  ****

  Shards of pain throbbed behind his temples, and Rory rubbed his eyes in an attempt to rid the demons tormenting his mind. In an effort to elude his dreams, he fought the desire to seek rest within his prison. His body, thoughts, and spirit sought out the land under him. Though during the quiet times, he thought he could hear the soft whisper of Mother Danu in his ears. Yet, when he concentrated, she always left him in the coldness of his own beleaguered nightmares and ramblings.

  Crouching far back against the wall, Rory cloaked himself with darkness and shadows, believing the voices would cease to speak to him. No longer did he concern himself with the dawn or night. However, the voices lured him within, and the images returned with a vengeance. Her agonizing screams filled his mind, and the taste of smoke coated his tongue as he gasped for air.

  He found his mouth parched and for a brief moment, Rory considered moving toward the table where a jug of water tempted him to quench his thirst. Lifting his head, he reached out with one hand, praying the jug would come to him. But he was a fool. There was no magic inside these four crystal walls. Furthermore, he was too weak and proud to move away from his haven of safety.