“I suspect that magick is involved. It is Cormac, son of King Brion.”
“Cormac. Yes, he has an axe to grind. He has always blamed Ruaidrí for his father’s death. So he is after revenge, is he?”
“There is more. As you told me many months ago, the leader of this invasion is different from the ones before. He calls himself Dughall, and he is after more than just the typical spoils of war.”
Saorla suddenly felt as though she would vomit. All at once a terrible vision came into her sight. It was a vision of a dark haired man with blazing brown eyes riding hard and fast right to the Sacred Grove.
“He is on his way,” was all that she could whisper.
“Then we do not have much time,” replied Cathaír.
“But how does he know? How did he learn of our order and of the portal?”
“That is what I was telling you. Cormac has betrayed King Ruaidrí and the Order. He saw his opportunity and sold us out to Dughall.”
It was just as Cathaír said. Cormac’s father had lost the crown to Ruaidrí in a fierce battle. To assuage Cormac and his district, Ruaidrí had given Cormac a post as his second in command. Being so high placed within the kingdom, Cormac knew much – or had the opportunity to spy on much – of what happened in the King’s court, both public and private.
Cormac, always intent on revenge, saw opportunity. He arranged a meeting with Dughall, as sadistic and power hungry of a human as ever there was. Cormac offered his services to Dughall.
“I have no need of a spy,” replied Dughall in a low growl.
“Then perhaps you require an assassin. I am extremely close to the High King,” offered Cormac in desperation.
“What makes you think that I need you to take out Ruaidrí?”
“There must be some assistance I can offer my liege.”
“What do you know of the secret order of women guarding a well?”
“Ah, it is women you are after sire,” laughed Cormac.
When he looked at Dughall though he stopped laughing. Dughall’s jaw was set hard, and his dark eyes were unsmiling.
“If you have no information about this secret order, I have no use for you,” Dughall said. He motioned for his guards to take Cormac.
Cormac saw the writing on the wall. He thought fast.
“I have information about the women of the well. I have information. I thought that you were in jest, my liege,” he stammered.
“I do not jest,” Dughall replied.
Dughall motioned his guards to halt. “You will tell me what you know and if you provide anything useful, I will spare your sorry life. For now.”
Cormac told Dughall all that he knew. He told a tale of a secret order of all women, Priestesses, who lived in a walled compound surrounded by a grove of thick ash, thorn and oak. He told of how once a girl entered, she never left and inside learned the arts of magick and of war. Cormac told of the legend of a fierce woman warrior from China who taught the women in the Grove the ancient arts of eastern warfare but who was rumored to be over a thousand years old. Cormac told Dughall that legend had it that these Women of the Well were formidable warriors and much feared.
“What of the Well?” hissed Dughall.
“Yes, well, it is said that they guard a sacred well. It is said that the spring there has healing waters in it, maybe even the secret to everlasting life. Legend says that it is because of these waters that the old Chinese woman lives to this day.”
“Healing waters? I have no need of elixirs or potions. Nothing else?” asked Dughall.
Cormac remained silent as he searched his mind for any other legends he knew about the witches of the grove. Dughall let out a tired yawn. At last, Cormac blurted out, “Some say that inside the grove is a door to another world, a place some call Anwaan, the Netherworld. And it is said that the High Priestess wears a magickal torc and that with it, she alone can open the door between worlds. But this is all legend my liege. No one believes in magick or sacred groves anymore,” Cormac said.
Dughall sat back in his chair and smiled. Cormac could see a twinkle in Dughall’s eyes. Cormac was relieved that he said something that appeared to please Dughall. He may live to see another day.
6. SORCHA
Saorla knew that she had one day, perhaps two, before Dughall and his army attacked her beloved Grove. A thick copse of wood and brambles surrounded the grove on all sides making it inhospitable to most who traipsed around the wood. A high, stone wall protected the grove. But thorns and stone would not deter men like Dughall.
For centuries, a powerful spell had hidden the wall from the view of all who passed. The spell could only be lifted by one who knew the proper incantation. Saorla lifted the spell briefly every time that Cathaír visited.
Saorla and the Order of Brighid could also count on their allies. The spirits of the wood, known as the Fair Sídhe, would use their trickery and cunning to slow the progress of Dughall’s host. If the men got close to the wall, the powerful spirit that lived in the woods surrounding the grove, Lianhan Sídhe, would entrance and befuddle Dughall and his men. And if Dughall’s army somehow managed to make it into the grove itself, the ancient spirit warrior Madame Wong would protect the priestesses. Madame Wong was practically an army in her own right.
But Saorla knew that an army of men determined to break down the walls could do so. No spell or the magick of forest folk could prevent it. She also knew that while the Priestesses of the order, the Fair Sídhe and Madame Wong would put up a fierce battle, twenty adult women, a handful of young girls, some faeries and a spirit warrior were no match for a whole army of men and horses.
The largest threat was that Dughall knew of the torc and he believed in the portal. Saorla’s vision was clear. Dughall was after the torc and he wanted to enter the Netherworld. Saorla knew it was not for a good purpose.
She summoned Cathaír to her chambers. I know what I must do. Propriety be damned, I must see him alone, thought Saorla.
Saorla had her back to the door when Cathaír entered her small but warm and inviting cottage. Cathaír knew her so well, he felt Saorla’s worry and fear before she even turned to face him. Being alone, he did what he would never have done at any other time. Cathaír turned her to him and gathered her in his embrace. Tears welled in Saorla’s eyes as she returned Cathaír’s kiss.
Cathaír wiped Saorla’s tears and held her hands in his. “My dearest love, do not cry.”
“Cathaír, there is so much that I wanted to say to you, my Anam Ċara, my soul friend. But we do not have the luxury of time. There is something that you must do for me.”
“Anything my love. You know I am your servant.”
“You will protest this task and say that you cannot. But you must not argue with me. Remember that first and foremost I am High Priestess of the Order of Brighid. My duty is to protect the torc and the portal at all cost.”
“Yes and my first duty is to protect you, your Highness.”
“But you protect me in order to protect the torc, Cathaír. Remember that now as I ask this task of you.”
“What task, dearest? You know I will give my life for you if you ask it.”
“Not your life, Cathaír. You must live. You must survive and protect Sorcha. She is the most valuable life for you to protect now. You must complete this task for me then leave this grove, ride in stealth, cover your tracks well, and go to Sorcha.”
“I cannot leave you, Saorla. Not now. You will need a strong warrior here.”
“You must leave. Sorcha’s life is what you must protect. She needs you.”
“Yes, Sorcha needs me. She needs us. We will both fight and defeat Dughall. Then we will retrieve Sorcha and live together as a family.”
Saorla gently touched Cathaír’s face. “My dearest. My love,” she murmured as she kissed him again. Cathaír did not need the sight to see the resolve and sadness in Saorla’s eyes.
“There are secrets of this place that even you do not know, Cathaír. Secrets that have b
een passed from the lips of one High Priestess to another. Secrets that now I and only I know. Secrets that must die with me.”
“What are you saying?”
“Cathaír, see this golden torc around my arm?” Saorla held out her arm and the light glinted off of the shiny gold. “This is what Dughall is after. If he gets his hands on it, he will eventually figure out a way to decipher its magick and enter the portal.”
Cathaír softly chuckled. “Is that what worries you, my love?” Cathaír pulled Saorla to him, and kissed her brow. “You need not worry of that love. I have seen men like this Dughall before. They are nothing more than a brute soldiers and killers. If he is like other leaders of armies from the south, he is too dense to understand how to use the old magick.”
Saorla pushed herself out of Cathaír’s arms. “That is what I am telling you. Dughall is not like others. And he has help.”
“Who besides you or a Priestess of the Sacred Grove could interpret the spells?” asked Cathaír.
“The Moon Well has shown me the truth. Dughall has one of the Dark Sídhe with him, and he will soon meet Cian, an old druid who was once on his way to being High Druid but who is now a Dark Wizard.”
“A Sídhe? Who? A pixie I bet. Those rotten little … ”
“So you see, I must take drastic measures. With the help of Cian and a Dark Sídhe, Dughall may be able to find a way to enter the portal.”
“What do you plan to do, Saorla?”
“This you must help me with. I cannot do this alone. You must help me break the Triad of Brighid.”
“I have never heard of the Triad of Brighid.”
“I know, love. Only the High Priestess knows of the Triad of Brighid. I am breaking my most sacred vow by speaking of it out loud to you now. But the times require that some vows be broken.”
Saorla turned her back to Cathaír and walked the few steps needed to stand at her window. It was a warm, spring day. She gazed out at the yellow jasmine that climbed the walls of her cottage and breathed deeply of its sweet scent. Is there anything more wonderful than the scent of the Earth? Saorla wondered.
“Tell me, my love. Tell me of this triad.”
Saorla did not leave the window but turned to face Cathaír. The morning sun illuminated her pale skin and the rays played upon her golden-red hair so that it looked as if it was touched by fire.
“The torc is not the only magickal object that must be kept from Dughall. The Triad of Brighid creates the magick that has allowed this grove to stay hidden and that has kept the portal open all these centuries, even when the magick at Newgrange and at the great Glastonbury Tor has been lost.”
“What is the Triad Saorla?”
“The Triad of Brighid is as old as our people. The torc is one piece. The other is the Sacred Grove itself.”
“What is the third piece?” he asked.
“The High Priestess of the Order of Brighid,” replied Saorla.
Cathaír’s face turned ashen.
“What do you mean?”
“The life force of the High Priestess forms the third and final link of the Triad. Once Dectire ordained me High Priestess, my life force was fused to the torc and to the Sacred Well to form the Triad. It is a great circle, Cathaír. All three must exist together to keep the magick of the Sacred Grove of Brighid alive. That is why a new High Priestess is always ordained prior to the death of the former High Priestess. The life force is constant and eternal, just as the water springs from the well and the fires of the sun burn, the triad keeps the Sacred Grove protected and the portal open.”
“If you die, the spell is broken because there is no other High Priestess.”
“Yes. Sorcha would likely have been the next High Priestess and when ordained, her life force would fuse with this place, and the Triad would be unbroken.”
“But now we cannot wait for Sorcha, can we?” Tears welled in Cathaír’s eyes.
“No, Cathaír, we cannot. I must depart this place and time. With my death and the removal of the torc to a place well hidden, the Triad will be broken. The portal will close and the Sacred Grove will become simply an ordinary grove of old trees. But the Netherworld will be protected from Dughall. He must not be allowed to enter the portal, Cathaír.”
Cathaír dropped his head and cried openly. Fat tears flowed down his cheeks and wet his beard.
“You said you had a task for me. Please do not ask me to take your life, my love. That is something I cannot do for you.”
“I would not ask that of you, dearest. Besides, the torc will not release from me if another takes my life. I must summon the courage to drain my own life force.” Tears streamed down Saorla’s face as well.
“But you must protect the torc, Cathaír. You must ensure that the torc will never be found by Dughall or anyone else except a Priestess of the Order of Brighid.”
Cathaír’s body was wracked with grief. Through his tears, Cathaír said, “I will perform that task for you Saorla. I will do everything in my power to ensure no one finds it.”
With a sigh of relief, Saorla replied, “Good. And once you complete that mission, you must go to Sorcha. Promise me, Cathaír. Promise me that you will protect Sorcha.”
“I will my love. I pledge that to you. I am in service to you, Saorla, my High Priestess.”
Cathaír spent the rest of the day and the night with Saorla. Neither cared that it was forbidden for a Priestess to be alone with a man. They no longer worried of what anyone would say or do. Saorla cherished her last night to love Cathaír and share a quiet reverence for life.
7. THE ORDER OF BRIGHID
Dawn had not yet broken when the bell at the Great Hall rang again and again. The bell usually rang only for noon and evening meals. It was the signal that all should gather at the Great Hall. The air of the Sacred Grove was filled with tension as all in the Grove knew that the ringing of the bells meant trouble.
The Younglings nervously whispered to each other “What’s going on?” and “Do you know what’s happening?” They did not know why they had been summoned to the Great Hall before sunrise.
Saorla stood serenely in front of her chair at the head of the Great Hall and waited for all to filter in. She was dressed in her best white linen tunic and had a purple cape fastened about her shoulders with a large jeweled brooch. Her hair was tightly plaited and woven with small jewels. When they saw Saorla standing straight and solemn, bedecked in her best ritual finery, they fell quiet and took their seats. After a long silence, Saorla spoke.
“My sisters, you know that significant change is upon us. Since the beginning of the Order many moons ago, armies have come to our fair land to take what is not theirs. Our people have fought off these invaders time and again.” Saorla paused and sat in her chair.
“Many of you have had visions and know that this time, it is different.”
Saorla looked out and saw many of the priestesses nodding their heads. Their look of worry and fear meant that they too had seen the foretelling of the end of their world.
“Our High King is dead, and as I speak to you, there is an army advancing on this very Grove.” Several novices and even a few priestesses let out audible gasps.
The priestess Coventina said, “But we are protected here. The spells and enchantments are strong. And we have powerful allies in the Lianhan Sídhe and Madame Wong.”
“True, Coventina. These protections have served us well for centuries. But as we speak, a dark one comes to our Grove. He intends to gain use of the magick of Brighid for his own evil purpose. And he is being helped by a traitor of the High King, by one of our former brothers and by at least one of the Dark Sídhe.”
The women whispered in disbelief. Saorla continued.
“We have not much time my sisters so listen well to my words. We are the last of our kind and all that stands between this dark force and the Sacred Well. All of your preparation and training have been for a day such as this. You will need to draw on your skills of war as well as your magick craft.
” Saorla paused and breathed deeply. I must inspire them and help them move past their fear.
“Each of you has a singular gift, something that you do better than anyone else. Use your gift in service to your sisters, in service to our noble land, and in service to the Goddess herself.” Saorla could see the priestesses sit a taller and felt their fear dissipate, replaced by pride and determination.
“Within one more rotation, you will fight the greatest battle this Grove has ever seen. You will fight for your life and for the soul of Ireland. These invaders have never seen women warriors before. They will underestimate you. Use that to your advantage.
“I will hold council with our allies the Fair Sídhe and request their aid in our time of need. The elder Priestesses and Madame Wong have instructions from me for your preparations and battle strategy. Do exactly as they ask of you.”
Saorla looked out on the faces of the Priestesses of the Order of Brighid and knew that it may be the last time she would see many of them. As she glanced down at the younglings in the first row, she felt a tear come to her eye. Am I doing the right thing? Shouldn’t I be by their side and fight with them? The thought of her sisters shedding their blood in battle made her shiver despite the warmth of the dawning day.
She took a deep breath and suppressed her tears. She knew sure of what she had to do. This is no time to question the deep knowing within.
“My sisters, I love you all. Remember, you are the embodiment of the Goddess herself. Let the Goddess flow through you. May your sword be true, your shield strong, your breath steady and may the Light of the Goddess be with you always.” With that, she put her hands in prayer position by her heart and bowed to her sisters. They bowed to her as well as she walked forward to bestow on each the blessing of the Moon. After she had blessed the last priestess, she walked out of the Great Hall for the last time, her purple cloak billowing behind her.
8. THE DARK ONE COMES
Hours after Cormac betrayed the most sacred secrets of Ireland, Dughall ordered his men to assassinate Ruaidrí, the last High King of Ireland. Dughall’s official mission given to him by the Emperor was complete. Dughall had absolute control of the Emerald Isle.
The Akasha Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set: The Complete Emily Adams Series Page 4