An Immortal Descent

by Kari Edgren

  Ailish whimpered in pain but made no effort to break free. Power moved over her face, warmth infusing my skin in direct correlation. When it moved lower, a gasp lifted from my throat as it passed over the burn on my neck.

  It’s working...

  Brigid’s fire continued to move, and I held on for dear life as hot and cold chills shook me to my boots. Though Ailish didn’t openly fight back, just my presence was enough to set her power on edge. It pushed at me, jabbed at my mind with icy fingers.

  I ignored it the best I could, focusing on the slow progression downward. The ring of bruises around my rib cage tingled next. Warmth infused my abdomen, wound a healing trail through the snugly fit organs.

  A desperate groan came from Ailish. “Please hurry...”

  All I could do was increase the flow of power. It moved at once to my hips before sinking into my legs.

  Almost there...just a few seconds more.

  Without warning, a burst of anguish rushed into me. Ailish started to writhe in pain, her control slipping away.

  “Too much...” she whispered.

  Cailleach’s power came out of nowhere, shooting up my arm to the very center of my head. White light flashed, and from the searing cold, it felt like my brain had been stabbed with an icicle.

  There was a scream, high-pitched and unearthly. Then the world tilted upward, and my buttocks slammed into the earth. Frozen breaths tore from my throat. Ice skittered through every nerve, shaking me from head to toe and causing my teeth to clatter like a wooden clapper.

  Near paralyzed, I concentrated on the fire still burning in my core. Little by little, the biting cold began to thaw, returning some control of my body. Opening my eyes, I blinked several times and found Ailish sitting at arm’s length, blinking back at me. Sweat drenched her face. A red hue tinted her pale skin, giving the impression that she had spent the day in the sun rather than shrouded by fog.

  Even without the benefit of a mirror, I knew we presented contrasting images. To her red, I was undoubtedly blue, and as warm blood filled my veins, I must have looked a corpse returning to life. My head, sluggish at first, seemed to unfreeze at the same rate as my limbs. Water dripped onto my cheek from melting ice that clung to my lashes.

  We stared at each other for a moment longer, too stunned yet to put our thoughts into words. No wind stirred, nor did any animals move in the nearby trees. Once my breath calmed and my teeth no longer clacked, the stillness seemed to deepen until it felt we were the only living creatures for miles around.

  Was it so quiet before?

  Ailish opened and closed her hands with a keen look of interest. “Do you think it worked?” she asked, the toes of her black boots tapping together.

  I nodded. “The bruises are healed on your face.”

  She ran a hand along the smooth skin of her cheek. “And that nick be gone from your nose.”

  Anna’s attack from the barn came back to me, how the knife had grazed the tip of my nose. Only four days had passed since then, but with so many other injuries crying for attention, I’d managed to forget that particular one.

  “What about your hand?” I asked. Even without stretching or poking at it, I knew the burn on my neck was gone.

  She turned it over and wiggled her fingers. “Good as the day I was born.” A deep breath rushed through her nose. “And me cold’s gone.”

  I did the same, testing my nose before adding a swallow for my throat. “Mine, too.” Other than a sore bottom from hitting the ground, I felt returned to perfect health.

  A gruff laugh escaped her, and I caught the faintest hint of a shudder. “Brigid’s fire don’t be mixing well with Cailleach’s ice. I swore you’d turn me to ash afore we was done.”

  A similar darkness haunted my own soft laugh. “You almost froze me through.”

  She nodded. “Suppose it makes sense, the one giving life, and the other taking it away. There’s no telling what sort o’ havoc they may have caused together if’n you hadn’t let go when you did.”

  Another droplet wet my cheek. I brushed it away, wishing I could so easily brush away the residual chill. Most likely, that would remain until I could drink a whole kettle of hot tea, while submerged to my chin in a steaming bath. Or even better, snuggled on Henry’s lap, his lips soft on mine.

  A sudden heat swelled in my chest. With renewed vigor, I jumped up, anxious to make haste for Wexford. “We should go.”

  Sighing, Ailish tucked her feet beneath her and stood. “I want to be in Ballyhack by nightfall.” She reached for the burlap sack. “I’ll rest easier once we’ve a river—” The air caught in her throat. “Bless me soul,” she breathed. “What happened here?”

  Where her hand hovered above the ground, I spied four dark gray outlines nestled into the grass, approximately an inch thick and the precise shape of boot prints. Placed in pairs, the sharply rounded toes faced each other as though two ghosts were engaged in a standoff.

  I swallowed hard. How did those get there? And why hadn’t we noticed them before? “What are they?”

  Ailish knelt in the grass and ran a finger over one of the prints. “It can’t be,” she said a moment later.

  “What can’t be?” Gooseflesh crept over the backs of my arms. “Tell me what it is, Ailish.”

  She traced around another outline. “They be stones.”

  Well, that made no sense whatsoever. I dropped to my knees beside her and peered down at the prints. “Are you sure?”

  She knocked on one, making a series of low-pitched thuds. “They belong to us.”

  I frowned, the evidence undeniable. “How did it happen?”

  “The grass turned where we be standing.” Ailish pried one from the ground, leaving behind a small patch of dirt.

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “See for yourself.” She passed one to me, practically forcing one in my hand when I hesitated. “Don’t be afraid.”

  The stone weighed heavy in my palm, and I stared at it, uncertain what to expect. When it didn’t immediately bite or burst into flames, I turned it over, confirming that it was indeed the shape of my left sole. “It’s from mixing our power, isn’t it.”

  Ailish had pried another stone from the ground and did a similar inspection, even holding it to the bottom of her foot. “That be me guess. The fight between Brigid’s life and Cailleach’s death changed the grass to the barest o’ living forms.” She knocked on it again.

  It made perfect sense, except for one small detail. “Rocks aren’t alive, Ailish.”

  She gave me an odd look. “Everything has life in this world. Some things just have more than others. Didn’t your mam teach you about that?”

  “No, she didn’t. Because it’s utter nonsense.”

  “Maybe where you come from, but here in Ireland plenty o’ folks be knowing the truth.” She replaced the boot print to its original spot, pressing it into the dirt. “Me mam learned it from her mam, and she learned it from her mam, all the way back to when the Tuatha Dé still lived in the human world.”

  “I guess we were raised with different ideas.” Returning my rock to its place, I started to stand. “We should be—”

  Ailish grabbed a handful of my skirts and yanked me to the ground where my knees collided with the grass.

  Seeing her sprawled on her belly, I did the same, peeping over my hands in the direction of the road.

  “Do you hear that?” she whispered, so softly I had to lean closer to catch the words. “Someone be coming this way.”

  “Do you think it’s Calhoun?”

  “Could be. We’ll soon find out.” She squinted, though in truth I didn’t know what she could see through the fog.

  A few seconds passed before I could make out the definitive sound of horse hooves. By then, Ailish scrambled to her feet and started t
o brush the mud and grass from her skirts.

  “Get down,” I hissed.

  She retrieved the burlap sack. “Don’t worry. It’s not Calhoun.”

  “How do you know?” I asked, remaining firmly on my belly.

  “A single horse be pulling a cart. Get up, Selah. Could be a nice farmer willing to give us a ride to the next village.” She tossed the sack over one shoulder and started toward the road.

  Hearing only confidence in her voice, I stood and grabbed the saddlebags, grunting at the weight. “What if he’s not nice?”

  A branch rustled not far from the sapling oaks to our rear. Ailish stopped without warning, and I collided into her as she jerked her head around to peer over my shoulder.

  I followed her gaze, when something small burst from the underbrush. I gasped, every nerve jumping at once as the creature ran straight toward us. At the last moment, brown wings appeared, and it took flight, frantically beating at the air.

  It disappeared at the same time my mind finally caught up. I released a shaky breath. “It’s only a quail.”

  Ailish’s gaze remained fixed on the same spot. Worry lines crept across her forehead as she drew a deep breath through her nose. The breath hitched and her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. Without a word of explanation, she resumed walking toward the road, her pace noticeably faster. Just then, another quail broke free of the underbrush to take flight. Her pace quickened even more.

  Though no less eager to be out of the woods, I wasn’t about to be driven into a worse situation. “I don’t like this. For all we know, the driver’s a scoundrel of the worst sort and will have other designs than offering a simple ride in his cart.”

  She grunted something unintelligible, but didn’t slow in the slightest.

  We had almost reached the road. In a fit of panic, I grabbed the back of her cloak to make her stop. She spun around and stared at me, all the previous color drained from her skin.

  “We don’t even know if he’s alone,” I persisted. “What if he’s accompanied by a band of miscreants?”

  Ailish darted a glance over my shoulder, and the look in her eyes made my nerves squirm anew. “We’ve no choice now.”

  “Of course we do—”

  “Trust me, Selah, we need to be in that cart.”

  “And if we’re attacked?” At the most, we could take on four men, though that assumed no one had a weapon.

  “I’ll be ready with Cailleach’s power. And you can do the same as you did to Donal on the ship.” She pulled her cape free of my clutch and stepped away. “That be a neat trick you have.”

  Neat or not, that trick only came about as a means to save my life, and I was quickly growing weary of having to use it. Even so, fire danced on my fingertips by the time we arrived at the road’s edge.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jane and Sally Duggan

  The bulky shape of a horse and cart soon emerged from the fog. The driver appeared to be alone and in no hurry, judging by the slow gait of the horse. With shoulders hunched against the cold, he held the reins in one gloved hand, while the other stayed buried in the folds of his thick brown overcoat.

  Ailish didn’t move right away. For that matter, she didn’t move at all, remaining still as a statue, I assumed to better gauge the man before we were noticed. Given the poor visibility and our being dressed in matching brown cloaks at the wood’s edge, the man could well be upon us before that happened. He could even pass us by altogether if we remained silent, without the slightest twitch of a muscle. Perhaps a closer look at him would prompt Ailish to reconsider the absolute necessity of our getting into the cart. Not that I was opposed to a ride. I’d just grown wary of strangers and had no desire to jump from the frying pan and into the fire.

  While I wondered at our next move, or lack thereof, Ailish inhaled a slow breath. I mimicked the action, catching little more than the scent of damp earth and leaf mold.

  A wide-brimmed hat sat low on the man’s head, obscuring the upper half of his face. Reddish brown hair fell loose to the collar of his coat. Slightly darker whiskers smattered his cheeks in what appeared to be a few days’ growth. A long pipe jutted from the corner of his mouth, a trail of smoke lifting skyward.

  A hint of burning tobacco drifted in our direction. Ailish’s nose twitched over the sweet scent, reminding me of a rabbit. Though I found nothing special in the smoke, it must have been to her liking, for she stepped forward into the horse’s path.

  The driver jerked upright, and no wonder with her emerging from the woods like one of the mythical fae. I moved to join her, power still warming my palms around the cumbersome bulk of the saddlebags.

  He tugged at the reins. “Whoa, there!” The horse responded without complaint, coming to an abrupt stop. No one spoke at first, and I held my breath as light brown eyes roved us from head to toe, taking in our every detail.

  The man removed the pipe from his mouth. “You’re real enough, I suppose, though in this fog you could be mistaken for specters. Might I ask what two young ladies are doing out here alone?”

  Ailish curtsied a greeting. “Beg your pardon, sir. We be traveling to meet our da. If’n you have room in the cart, we could use a lift to Passage East.”

  He looked between the two of us, his expression dubious as he no doubt searched for the slightest family resemblance. “Are you for the ferry?”

  “We are, sir. With a bit o’ luck, we’ll cross to Ballyhack afore dark.”

  “Then where you be to?”

  Ailish answered at once. “To Wexford, sir.”

  I groaned inwardly. Why not just tell him everything and have it done with? I would have kicked her if the man hadn’t been watching us so closely, regardless of the inevitable bruise to my own shin.

  He tapped the pipe bowl on one knee. “What’s your names?”

  “Se—” Ailish started.

  “Jane and Sally Duggan,” I interrupted, the names spilling readily from my tongue.

  Ailish nudged her weight to one hip, but offered no protest.

  “Which be Jane?” he asked.

  “I am—”

  “That be me—”

  We answered in unison.

  The man raised a questioning brow.

  I clamped my teeth together and waited. After a long second, Ailish tipped her head at me. “She be Jane.”

  A hearty laugh came from deep in his chest. “That’ll do for me, Jane and Sally Duggan.” He removed his hat and bowed at the waist. “Seamus MacCabe at your service. Farmer, weaver, and friend o’ drifters and runaways.”

  I frowned at his description. “We’re not vagabonds.”

  Seamus grinned at me. “Don’t fret, me lass. These be trying times in Ireland, and you’re not the first to leave a bad situation behind.” Replacing his hat, he jabbed the pipe toward the back of the cart. “Hop in, and I’ll get you as far as Balliniry. I’ve a farm just east, though it’ll be nightfall when we arrive.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ailish said, clearly pleased by the offer. “That be more than I’d hoped.” She bobbed another curtsey and started at once for the back of the cart.

  Indecision tugged at me. The man was a complete stranger. How could Ailish trust him so readily? He didn’t look dangerous, but neither had Calhoun at first sight.

  The grin all but vanished from his mouth. “You can leg it if you want,” he said softly. “But me hag will buy more distance from whoever’s chasing you.”

  My chin edged upward. “You presume to know a lot about our situation.”

  He shrugged. “No more than what’s obvious. You’re a lady, by the looks and sound of it, and a rare beauty, if you don’t mind plain speaking.”

  Blood warmed my cheeks from the rather forward compliment. Even so, I refused to look away.

  “Me
guess is that you was being forced into a bad marriage, and made a run for it afore your da could drag you to the altar.” He tilted his head toward Ailish, who was busy climbing into the cart. “And that one be your maid, because you’re sure as not sisters.” With a satisfied look, he returned the pipe to his mouth.

  This version of events sounded infinitely better than the truth. So much in fact that I opted to let the story stand and remained silent as he drew air through the pipe’s bowl.

  “Take it or leave it, Jane Duggan. There’s eight miles yet to go, and I’ve a wife and children anxious for me return.”

  Ailish peered over the cart rail. “What you waiting for, Jane? Wexford won’t be coming to us, you know.”

  I sighed. So be it. Seamus appeared trustworthy, and measures could always be taken if he proved otherwise. Besides, my feet hurt from the too-tight boots. Trudging around the cart, I hoisted the bags over the low rail, where they landed on the floorboards with a loud thump. My arms ached as I scrambled over the side and sat opposite Ailish. The cart was empty except for two wooden barrels in either corner behind the driver’s seat, and what looked to be a pile of gunnysacks.

  Seamus emitted a loud whistle. The horse responded, and we were soon moving at a respectable trot.

  I leaned against the rail and eyed the saddlebags with loathing. “Why am I carrying those?”

  Bemusement shadowed Ailish’s face. “Because they belong to you, that’s why.”

  The bags I’d brought from London had been borrowed from Cate’s stables. I couldn’t recall anything special about the design, only that they weighed significantly less than these. “Did you take them from the Sea Witch?” If so, she’d probably grabbed those belonging to one of the others.

  Ailish nodded. “When you supped with the captain. While I was poking around, I found a rock chock-full o’ Brigid’s fire. Thought it be useful, so I put it in with your other stuff.”