04 Sphere Song - The Isle of Destiny

by Tricia O'Malley

  Neala looked up from where she’d been carefully watching her feet to see the outline of a murky stone lighthouse through the mist. If she strained her eyes enough, it looked like there was a faint glow at the top of the tower.

  “The waves sound much further below us now,” Neala commented.

  Bianca turned back to her. “We’re at the top of the cliff. This is the high side of the island. Be extremely careful with where you step. I really don’t fancy diving into that cold water after you,” Bianca said.

  Neala felt put upon. “Hey, I said I was sorry about earlier, I’ll follow orders,” she said, just as her foot slipped and both Bianca and Dagda grabbed her.

  Would there be any end to her embarrassment tonight?

  “I swear you fae are just having your fun with me now,” Neala grumbled but then smiled when she heard Dagda’s low chuckle. At the very least, she’d made him laugh, which wasn’t something it seemed like he did often.

  “It’s okay, I’m often clumsy too. But it really is slippery up here. Oh shite, there goes Blake,” Bianca said. Soon they were all moving at a fast clip, trying to watch their footing while also keeping up with Blake. By the time they’d reached the lighthouse, he’d already begun trying to find a foothold up to climb the wall.

  “Isn’t there a door?” Dagda asked as the wind began to pick up, the rain blanketing them in thick sheets.

  “It’s been magickally sealed. No door. No windows that I can see either. Just little slits in the wall to let the light in or out. I’m going to have to climb it. If I can.” Blake swore long and loudly as he slipped down the side of the wall once more.

  Neala tilted her head and looked up – a long ways up – and back at Blake. There was no way the man would be able to climb this and hang on in this wind and rain. What was he thinking? She watched as he tried again, falling once more to the earth, his curses getting louder. Dagda circled the group, his back to them, his gaze tracking for movement in the night.

  “Is there any rope in the satchel?” Seamus called.

  Neala dropped to her knees and flipped the pack open, digging through it until she found a healthy cord of rope. “Aye, rope here, but ’tis not long enough to scale the likes of that, I fear.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Blake said, grabbing the rope from her. His face was set in sheer determination laced with panic. A cry from above stopped him in his tracks. Over the howling of the wind, Neala could just make it out.

  “Blake!” Clare screamed from the tower.

  “Clare! We’re here! We’ll get you out.”

  “Be careful,” Clare shouted down again, but it was like shouting at a man possessed. Blake began to scale the wall, looking for a handhold with each step, the rope draped over his shoulder. The higher he got, the more worried Neala grew.

  “How is he going to get her out once he’s up there? It doesn’t look like there’s a door. I don’t like this,” Bianca said.

  “I don’t either. How can this not be a trap? Didn’t the clue say something about Clare’s belief? Doesn’t she need to be the one to unlock herself?” Neala demanded, growing angry with this woman who would allow her man to put himself in such danger to rescue her.

  “But the clues aren’t for her,” Bianca said automatically, then her eyes widened as she turned to look at Neala, the rain slanting all but sideways in the light of her headlamp. “They’re for you.”

  “Blake! Watch out! They’re coming!” Clare screamed from the top of the tower just as the sky opened up and rained Domnua upon them. The group sprang into action – but not in time, and Blake fell from the tower, seemingly suspended in mid-air for a moment on Clare’s scream, before going over the edge of the cliff.

  “Do something!” Bianca shrieked and raced to the edge of the cliff, leveling Domnua on the way.

  “Me? What do I do?” Neala screamed in panic, and looked to where Dagda fended off a slew of Domnua. He turned to her and pointed at his chest before whirling and taking out six more Domnua that came for him.

  “My chest? I don’t get it.” Neala almost choked on her words, her panic was so thick, the voices inside her head all clashing together until one rose above the rest. Dagda had told her before they started out.

  Head up. Heart open.

  That was what the clue had been telling her. Clare had needed to look into her heart to find the treasure, but it was also that she needed to believe in love. Maybe Neala had been a bit cynical about love in the past, but nobody who had watched Blake scale a slimy, slippery wall, his hands scraped and bloody, while an army of Domnua rose to attack – all to get to Clare – could ever deny the existence of love. True, earth-shattering, world-ending love.

  Neala raised her chin and held her hands above her head, feeling as if she were a body outside of herself, and called to the wind.

  “I believe in love. In the beauty and pain of it, in the exquisite life and light it both gives and takes. I call down the wind.”

  No one was more surprised than she when the wind whipped to a frenzy above her head, rolling into miniature cyclone of sorts. Neala watched it wide-eyed, completely unprepared for such power.

  “Get Blake!” Bianca shrieked, and Neala realized she could direct the wind –something she would have to examine in much greater detail later. Rushing to the cliff’s edge, while Dagda fought off the Domnua that tried to reach her, Neala saw Blake hanging by a single hand, dangling from the cliff just outside of Seamus’s reach. The rope that could have helped him dangled from his shoulder.

  “Bring him up,” Neala commanded the cyclone, and closed her eyes for a brief second, praying that she hadn’t gone completely mad. She opened them in time to see the cyclone of wind lift Blake and fling him none too gently onto the rocks, where he lay panting for a moment while Bianca bowed over him.

  “Ah, darling, care to direct that little ball of wind toward something useful?” Dagda drawled from where he continued to fight the Domnua.

  Neala started, realizing she was still in control. With a whisk of her hand she ordered the wind to sweep the Domnua away, and in a matter of moments their screams disappeared into the depths of the dark waters below.

  “And it’s time to blow away the rain. Bring us the moonlight, sweet wind of mine,” Neala crooned, unsure if she was doing the right thing, but following that instinct in her head. The breeze brushed over her cheeks, a gentle kiss, and then flung itself into the sky, pulling with it the storm clouds and the rain, as if someone were opening a curtain so they could see the moon and the stars hanging brightly in the sky.

  “Hell of a magick trick you’ve got there, darling,” Dagda said.

  “I had no idea I could do that,” Neala gasped, panting as she knelt on the cliff’s edge. Dagda grasped her arm and pulled her away from the edge, moving her closer to the lighthouse.

  “Blake!” Clare yelled, racing around the side of the lighthouse in nothing but a t-shirt, her eyes only on her love, a small pouch hanging from one hand. Neala watched in silence as she streaked across the rocky land, oblivious to the pain to her feet, and collapsed upon Blake, where they kissed like lovers long lost. Neala supposed that even though they weren’t long-lost lovers, they’d had a hell of a traumatic event, and she politely averted her eyes.

  “The wind! That’s so damn cool,” Bianca crowed, dancing in front of Neala. “How did you think of that?”

  “I have no idea. It just popped in my head. I’m learning to listen to the right voice, I guess.” Neala shrugged.

  “And for that, I am very grateful,” Blake said, having walked up with Clare on his arm. He pulled Neala into a hug and then introduced her to Clare who, even though she didn’t look like a hugger, gave her one as well.

  “There’s a blanket in the pack,” Neala stammered, pointing to Clare’s bare legs, and Blake rushed to cover her with something warm.

  “It’s nice to meet another Seeker. I’ve a gift for you,” Clare said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “A
gift? For me?” Neala asked, surprised that Clare would have anything in the tower with her at all.

  “Aye, from the goddess herself,” Clare said and handed the pouch she carried to Neala. Neala almost dropped it, as she could feel the power it held pulse through her.

  “Whoa.”

  “I know. Big magick,” Clare said and they all gasped as Neala pulled out the truthstone. It was entirely round and glowed from within, almost seeming to sing with its own power.

  “I can’t take this,” Neala said, offering it back to Clare, who held her hands up.

  “It’s not for me. As much as I’m dying to study it in my lab,” Clare admitted.

  Blake chuckled from where he’d wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her in the blanket, relief and exhaustion evident on his handsome face.

  “But I can’t… what am I supposed to do with this?” Neala said, terrified she would drop it or lose it.

  “Take it with you. You may need it on your journey. There’s more in there,” Clare said, nodding her head at the bag.

  “Um, okay.” Neala held out the stone for someone to take it, but only Bianca would hold it for her, though Sean did lean over to study it, surprise and awe lighting his features.

  “The Stone of Truth. Never did think that actually existed,” Sean admitted.

  “Is this a necklace?” Neala asked, holding up a chain with a large pendant on it. The pendant was in the same shape as the quaternary knot she’d found marked on her head, and seemed to have four metal petals. All but one of the petals were empty. The easternmost petal of the knot held a smoky pink stone.

  “Aye, it is, and that’s rose quartz. Used for belief in love and, combined with other stones, to attract love.”

  “It’s beautiful, and yet odd. Only one part of the pendant has a stone.”

  “I bet you get a stone in each part of the necklace as you go along! Oh, this is going to be the treasure hunt to beat all treasure hunts,” Bianca squealed. “We’ll even have all this extra help on the way.”

  Clare seemed to sober at those words.

  “We can’t go with you,” Clare said and the group went silent.

  “I… I have to do this alone?” Neala’s voice rose in a squeak.

  “No, no, that isn’t what I meant,” Clare laughed. “You’ll have help. But Blake and I can’t go with you. We’ve finished this leg of the journey and are forbidden to go further. I’m sorry. I want you to know that I owe you a debt of gratitude and for the rest of my life I will thank you for saving Blake for me. I would do anything to help you, but the goddess won’t allow it. I think it may go against the rules or something.”

  “Don’t you think the rules are thrown out the window at this point? What with Domnua coming back and stealing all the Seekers and the treasures?” Seamus asked, bitterly annoyed at the turn of events.

  “I’m sorry. Please know I truly am. It’s going to kill me not to come with and help you. Plus, I worry so much about Bianca and Seamus – my two best friends in the world. But I can’t. I promise you I would if I could.”

  “Of course you would,” Bianca said automatically.

  “I think we should get off this island as soon as possible,” Dagda piped up. “I don’t imagine Domnu is going to be right pleased that we beat her already. The longer we linger, the more danger we are in.”

  Neala didn’t have to be told twice to get her butt moving. She stayed silent on the climb down and let Bianca’s and Clare’s chatter fall on her shoulders, while the power of the stone and the necklace hummed around her.

  She could call down the wind, Neala thought, and almost squealed out loud.

  Wasn’t that a miracle?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sasha hadn’t been asleep when she’d been captured, and she hadn’t gone down without a fight either. Which was why she was now staring down a supremely angry dark goddess who was threatening to eradicate her existence completely.

  “Lug was one of my best men,” Domnu seethed, pacing in front of Sasha, who balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, waiting for Domnu’s next move.

  “He must not have been so great if I was able to take him out,” Sasha said, and wiped blood from her lip with the back of her hand.

  “He obviously wasn’t expecting you to be armed,” Domnu retorted, an angry flush on her icepick cheekbones, her hair whirling around her head in anger.

  “A good warrior anticipates that everyone is armed,” Sasha countered, refusing to back down, even in the face of such powerful anger.

  “It doesn’t matter, not really,” Domnu said, ignoring Sasha’s remark. “I have others. Stronger fighters. He was getting too lazy, and others shall learn from the price he paid. Just like you’ll learn that your fighting was useless.”

  “I’ll always fight the darkness,” Sasha said, her chin up.

  “Then you are going to have a very difficult time in the new world, aren’t you?” Domnu hissed, stalking forward until her face was but inches from Sasha’s, her dark power forcing Sasha’s back to the cold stone wall.

  “There won’t be a new world,” Sasha said, never lowering her gaze, though she could barely breathe.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, my darling Seeker. You see, I’ve captured the lot of you, and taken your delightful treasures. I’ve but one more to gather and the world as you and I know it will be forever changed. Danu, my oh-so-perfect sister, will be condemned to the dark and I, oh yes, I will rule all.” Domnu threw back her head and laughed, dancing around the room in her madness, her hair coiling and whipping around her head with every dip and turn she made.

  “Doubtful,” Sasha commented, causing the goddess to scream in rage.

  “Oh, you’ll be the first to go. Once I rule freely, trust me on this – you’ll wish for death when I am done with you.”

  Domnu winked out of sight before Sasha could goad her further, and Sasha let out the deep breath she’d been holding and slipped to the floor. Perhaps it had been stupid to infuriate the goddess, but it wasn’t in her nature to back down from a bully. All her training in martial arts and in the ancient history of swordsmanship had taught her to never show fear.

  But she was desperately afraid – for Declan, for her friends, and even for the goddess Danu. Something horrible had to have happened for her to end up here. Wherever here was, Sasha thought, lifting her head to examine the room she was in. Much as she had suspected, there was no way in and no way out. A square stone room, with small square windows that perhaps a bird could fit through, and nothing more. Magick was at work here, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  When the Sword of Light appeared in a flash in the middle of the room, Sasha cried out and grabbed it, wrapping her hand around its hilt and feeling the power infuse her entire being. With it came hope.

  “Declan, I’m here. I’m armed. I will not go down without a fight. I will fight for us, for our love, and for our people. I love you,” Sasha whispered over and over, sending all the energy and power that she could to Declan.

  She sat down, her back against the wall, the sword across her legs, a solider ready for battle.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We’ll need to sleep,” Bianca insisted as they drove through the night, heading south on Neala’s instructions.

  “She’s right,” Seamus chimed in. “We do. Or we’ll get sloppy and make errors that could cost us our lives.”

  They’d said their goodbyes – tearful ones at that – to Clare and Blake, who were driving back to Dublin with Sean. With promises to keep them updated and an extra-long hug from Bianca to Clare, they were on their way. This time, while they had a sense of direction, they didn’t have a particular destination set.

  “Why don’t we stop at my place in Kilkenny? I can check on the bakery, let Sierra know I’m safe, and we can sleep in my flat,” Neala suggested.

  Bianca clapped her hands in delight. “Plus, fresh-baked yumminess!” she said.

  “No,” Dagda said from behind the w
heel of the Land Rover.

  “And why not?” Neala demanded, craving a shower and a fresh change of clothes.

  “The Domnua will have your place staked out. We might as well wave a white flag of surrender if we go back there,” Dagda said.

  “Will Sierra be safe? My customers?” Neala asked, his words filling her with fear.

  “Aye. They’re after you. It’s not quite time to let the world see them,” Dagda reassured Neala.

  Neala nodded and turned to stare out of the window, though there was nothing to see except darkness and the light of the occasional house or two on the horizon. She slipped her hand into the velvet pouch she carried, running her hands over the smooth stone, enjoying the pulse of power that warmed her, though the stone was cool to the touch. When her hand slipped over a piece of paper, she paused.

  “I think there’s something else in this bag,” Neala said and dug out a mini-scroll of paper, something she had missed in all the excitement.

  “A clue!” Bianca gushed, leaning over Neala’s shoulder in excitement.

  Neala read from the light of the clock in the car’s dashboard, not wanting to blind Dagda as he drove in the dark.

  The Sword of Light

  Nay gave me a fright

  But holding onto a slight

  Makes me crow with delight.

  “Domnu’s really got to work on her poetry. She sounds like a four-year-old making up a schoolyard rhyme,” Bianca laughed, but when a lightning bolt bisected the sky, she went still. “Ooops.”

  “She’s also quite vain,” Dagda said, gesturing with his hand to the sky, “judging from her response anytime we belittle her. We’ll need to remember that. Childish and vain.”

  Another lightning bolt crackled across the dark sky.

  “The southernmost point in Ireland is Cape Clear Island,” Seamus said, looking up from his tablet.

  “Can we get there today?”

  “It’s a five-hour drive. And, Bianca’s right, we haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. I vote we find a place to sleep for a few hours and carry on.”