"It's in pristine condition," Paul murmured, his voice choked in his throat.
His distraction to the sword was powerful, as it held everything he’d spent his life studying and dreaming of.
"It's because it's new, professor," Maeve said with a wink. "But you’re right. Back in your time, it would likely be over two thousand years old. A true relic."
All eyes moved to Maeve and we stared, absorbing her words—‘two thousand years old.’
Then Murt moaned.
"Thank Christ ya had the stun gun," Ryan said. "Wish we’d brought more of 'em now."
"Well, we've got a fine sword now to add to our collection," I said.
Maeve reached for the medieval weapon and stepped back into the center of the clearing. She held the sword with one hand, pointing it out toward us, and moved it with skill, tracing our lines. Then she spun around with it, swiping in every direction as if battling an unseen army attacking from all sides. She leapt and knelt, then pounced and stabbed. She finished by plummeting the sword into the earth as if driving it through an enemy’s heart.
Our jaws dropped wide open.
"Yeah," she said, panting. "I kinda have some experience with a long blade."
"I can see that," Paul said without blinking, as if staring at a goddess of war. "You should probably hang on to that."
Murt moaned again and rolled onto his side in a fetal position. The four of us stood around him, waiting. And then I kicked at his legs.
"Murt. Get up," I commanded. "You're fine. Just a bit of a shock."
He grumbled as he pushed himself up to sitting. His shaking shoulders and bobbing head proved he was still in a weakened condition.
"Yer a fookin' traitor,” Paul hissed at him. “Even in the fookin' depths of history, ya low-life." Paul spat the words at him as if he couldn't get over the betrayal.
Murt stared at Paul like he'd never seen him before. His eyes searched him but held no recognition, as if his memory of his life in our time had been wiped. It was as if they'd never met, let alone worked together as loyal colleagues for years.
Then Murt looked back at me.
His eyes held pure recognition.
He knew me. But how? If his memory of our time had been wiped, then it made no sense that he knew me. But the piercing glare in his eyes proved he did.
Did he remember attacking me in the tomb at the solstice? Trying to stop me from gaining enlightenment and making contact with Maeve? Did he remember the terror of the wicker man?
A silent gasp escaped my lips. The wicker man! He'd burned Murt to the point of grotesque disfigurement.
But Murt didn't seem at all focused on that disturbing past. Instead, he was focused only on me. Killing me.
"I knew you'd come back," he slurred through scarred lips and a damaged tongue. "All grown up now. Ya probably think yer a queen," he hissed.
I stepped back from him. From the vile sound of his words. They didn't make sense.
"Oh, don't play coy," he continued. "You've caused me a world of hurt from the day you were born." He paused, wincing in pain. "And I don't intend for ya to take all the glory again."
My head shook in confusion. How did Murt know anything about when I was born?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, stepping closer.
"I'm the rightful heir, wench." A shudder of pain ran through him, making him grimace. "It was supposed to be me who brought back the news of the darkness." He pushed himself onto his unsteady feet and launched toward me. "And so it will be!" he shouted.
He reached out to grasp my neck with evil daggers shooting from his eyes. Ryan and Paul launched for him at the same time. They collided with him from both sides, dropping him to his knees.
Murt writhed in pain from the rough contact on his raw scarring and cried out, "Treacherous wench!"
Ryan and Paul hovered over him, using small kicks to keep him in place, subdued.
Then a sound of movement came from over the boulders of the clearing. It started out as a low rumble like distant thunder but then it grew clearer as it got closer.
A band of hushed voices was moving toward the clearing.
Maeve hopped on a near boulder for a better view and turned back to us with terror in her wide eyes.
"They're coming!"
Chapter 16
Her words of warning shot terror through me and I leapt onto a boulder for a better view. I followed Maeve's stare along the trail that led up to the clearing where we stood.
She was right. They were coming.
Several cloaked men with brown hoods hiding their downturned faces trekked up the trail. They moved with little effort along the steep incline, as if it were a daily pilgrimage. Each one held his hands crossed in front of him at the stomach.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"There are eight of them!" I called to the others in a heavy whisper.
Maeve hopped off her rock and moved to the middle of the clearing, lifting her sword high over her head in a battle-ready stance. Paul and Ryan pulled their clubs and daggers, one in each hand.
I left my hands empty of weapons. My true weapon in this confrontation would be my mind and my enlightenment of honorable Druidry, and I had to trust it.
Within minutes the cloaked group filed effortlessly through a space between the boulders and entered the clearing in silence.
Paul and Ryan stepped away from Murt and joined Maeve at the center of the green. The band formed a circle around Murt, claiming him as one of their own, and I became certain they were the rogue Druids responsible for all of this.
I stepped away from my boulder and entered the space directly between my friends and the deviant Druids. I held my gaze on them, waiting for their heads to lift, to reveal their faces.
My eyes scanned across all eight and landed on the tallest. He stood at the center of them with square, commanding shoulders.
I held my glare on him.
His head suddenly shot up and he stared directly into my soul.
Unblinking, I stared right back into his.
I faced my enemy of centuries, millennia. The one who had been hunting me.
It was him.
I recognized his cold gaze and the sinister curl of his lip. He was a creature devoid of care or empathy of any form. A ruthless leader to fear.
My knees threatened to give out as they turned to rubber and began wobbling. How would I fight this man? I prayed the answer would come to me in the exact moment I needed it.
"Tell me you've brought word of the darkness," he bellowed. "Tell me the coward Murt is full of lies. That you have not betrayed us."
He stepped closer to me, inspecting every detail in my face.
As I gazed further into his judging eyes, I found something deep within him: his weakness.
His truth.
And I would use it against him.
I stood taller and filled my lungs with air. Reaching for my belt, I unfastened it and let it fall with a clang to the ground. Without weapons, I took a step closer to him.
His chin pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for me to catch his surprise.
"I've brought word, Athair," I replied.
The name fell from my lips like a familiar rhyme and I choked on the sound of it.
"What be it?" he pressed.
"The word I bring is one of rebellion. One of defiance," I stated. "An uprising."
"Defector?" His eyes narrowed.
"Of the most righteous variety." I taunted him with my responses.
In his eyes, I was a defector. He wanted me to deliver word of the darkness. Word of the curse taking hold. But instead, I brought rebellion.
His face snarled into a twisted, angry glare.
"You've betrayed me, Isobel?" He coughed. "Murt was right?"
He glanced at Murt's weakened form on the ground and bared his teeth in disgust.
"My son's been a disappointment to me, time and time again,” he said. “But now. Now you force me to ga
ze on him as my only ally?"
Son? Murt was his son?
My mind exploded with the twisting connections.
The evil leader had sent his son to destroy me. And Murt failed. The leader’s shame oozed off him as he gazed at his son like he was the lowest of creatures.
But how did this man know my name?
My eyes darted to Paul and then Ryan as my head shook in bafflement. How did it all fit?
The leader had sent Murt to the future. To try to stop me from interfering with the curse.
His disappointment and resentment in his son’s failure was evident. But still, the leader held hope that I’d bring news of the darkness.
Looking back to the leader, I kept Murt in my view from the corner of my eye.
"But never did I expect for you to betray me," the leader blasted as his voice grew angrier. "You deceived me, Isobel."
His truth poured from his glare into my mind. He was truly betrayed. His astonishment at my defection shocked him to his core.
But it was his connection to me that rattled me most. His expectations of me and my ability to disappoint him confused me. And even more baffling, his essence moved through me like my own life's blood.
"No!" I blasted back at him. "You are the one who deceived me!" My voice tightened in defense. "I was a child. I trusted you."
My words flew out of me, directly from the center of my soul, and they were truth. He was my tracker. The one who hunted me for all these years.
"A child. Perhaps," he retorted. "But within you, I saw a warrior. A queen!"
"You had no right!" I shouted at him.
He was the one who sent me through the portal. The one who ripped my life to pieces.
His face tightened as a growl formed in his throat.
"I had every right!” he blasted. “You are to obey my every word, Isobel O Moynaghan." He shouted louder. "I am your father!"
I stumbled back from his cutting words. The sounds gouged at my brain, tearing it to shreds. I clamped onto my head to stop it from exploding.
"No!" I screamed. "No!" I fell back into Ryan.
He steadied me with his strong arms. "Isobel. You know who you are,” Ryan said. “Don’t let him take that from you. You are the truth seer."
I turned and looked into Ryan’s eyes. With a nod, he encouraged me to move toward the leader again.
"Go,” he said. “If he is who he says, then you have a debt to settle with him."
Maeve lowered her sword and sunk its tip into the ground, allowing the length of the blade to stand alongside her body. Her grasp remained tight on the hilt.
"Moynaghan," Maeve spoke out. "Tribe of Ballycroy." She paused a moment, then smirked. "Yer father's king, Isobel. Makes you royalty in these parts, it does."
I clenched my teeth and silently snarled at her for making such assumptions. But she only lifted her eyebrows in proof she knew what she was talking about.
My eyes trailed to Paul. The sweat on his brow exposed his belief that he was out of his league here. I had to remember, he'd never time travelled before and probably barely believed in it too, even after all he had witnessed.
I dropped my chin and gazed at him through my lifted eyebrows. He nodded back, showing me he was ready. As ready as he could be.
I stepped toward the leader.
His gnarled face sent reminders of his evil stalking through all the years of my youth. He haunted me. Tormented me. All for his own personal gain.
I was his pawn.
"Why did you do it?" I blasted at him.
He was the one who sent me through the portal as a child, with only a shawl to keep me warm and safe.
He sent me alone. To a strange, unknown land.
To be his witness.
To deliver back the news of the darkness.
Without a witness, he would have no proof of the effect of his curse. He needed evidence that it had worked. A messenger of truth.
But how could he do that to his own daughter?
“How could you do that to me?” I pressed him to respond.
He turned and spat on the ground near Murt. "Because this coward refused to go," he shouted.
My head shook in confusion. "What?" I murmured.
"My only son. He refused me," the enraged leader growled. "Too much of a coward. Destroying the strength of our family name." His fists clenched. "Made me out ta be a fool." His face hardened at the memory.
My eyes fell on Murt as new feelings of betrayal washed over me. He was my brother. He’d been too afraid to follow the twisted command of our maniacal father and refused to go through the portal. He allowed me, as a small child, to take his place and did nothing to help me. Instead, he tried to end me upon my return, so he could take credit for what he thought was the message of the coming of darkness.
Murt’s treacherous deception sickened me.
"And since Murt would not go, you chose me instead?" I said with a tone that sent judgment to his core.
"No, Isobel," the leader stated with a steady voice. "You chose to go.”
“I would never do that!” I shouted.
“You did.” He stopped me. “Your bravery and loyalty to the clan stood tall, even at such a young age.” His eyes glinted with a sick form of pride. “You volunteered, Isobel."
"But I was too young to know what I was doing!" I shot back.
"You knew exactly what you were doing," he retorted. "You are your mother's daughter. Stubborn as the day is long. And loyal to a fault."
It couldn't be.
I was too young to know what I was agreeing to do. He had used me and my naivety. Any child would want to help their father.
"And she allowed me to go?" I whispered.
How could my mother allow me to go? I pressed through every memory in my mind trying to remember her. To picture her face. But all I could find was a faded sense of unconditional love that warmed me deep within.
"She's dead, Isobel," he stated with a curt tone. "Died birthing you."
The venom in his tone poisoned me with his raw hate.
He hated me.
For killing her.
Chapter 17
So, being sent away through time as the messenger, to fulfill the final phase of his curse—was my punishment.
Chapter 18
His hate. His grief from the loss of his beloved wife. His need to turn time back on itself to restore his happiness.
That was my truth.
My punishment.
My curse.
It was like the wind had been knocked out of me and everything crawled to slow motion. The face of the leader moved in and out of focus as unconsciousness threatened to sweep me away.
"Breathe, Isobel." Ryan's voice echoed in the back of my mind. "None of this defines you. You know who you are and no one can take that away from you."
I was hyperventilating. I forced myself to slow down and take long, deep breaths.
"The only thing he is right about," Ryan said, "is that you are a true warrior, willing to fight for what you believe in."
My eyes widened at his words, and the fog of my self-loathing haze cleared in an instant.
My mother died in childbirth.
I did not kill her.
There was a difference. And remembering that difference was what would keep me sane.
But Athair. My father. He did not see that difference. And he’d sentenced me to the abyss for what he believed I'd done to the woman he loved.
It had been my punishment.
But now I'd come home—to seek justice. Justice for the new world I now lived in. And justice for myself. For my innocence.
"You sent me as the sacrificial lamb," I called to the leader. His own true cowardice was revealed to me. "But now I return as the ram."
His shoulders squared against my verbal assault. "Do not bring shame upon me, girl," he snarled.
"I am the ram," I repeated louder, remembering the powerful term from my dreaded religion classes. God had sent the ram to cast judg
ment on the world. And in this moment, I took on its judicious power.
His followers closed in ranks around him and now lifted their heads. Their faces were shadowed by the hoods but I could still see enough of their features to know they were stone cold soldiers, ready to pounce on command.
Maeve, Paul, and Ryan moved in behind me, creating a semi-circle around me. Each held their weapons at the ready.
The leader glared into my face with powerful intimidation, waiting for me to succumb to his demands.
I stared back with a force that stirred deep within me.
My life force. And the power of the truth seer.
I saw his intentions deep within his mind, how he controlled the people around him for his own needs. I saw his cold heart and the evil it created for the innocents around him. I saw his plans to end the progression of time and reign as the almighty dictator of medieval Ireland.
"You've failed, Athair." I shot my words at him like bullets. "I am not the pawn you hoped I'd be. I am the truth seer. One with the sight of centuries. A seeing eye into all the rhythms of the earth." I paused. "And you are a misguided disruption to that rhythm."
He moved closer and his clan moved with him. "What have you done?" he growled.
The shake in his tone exposed him. He was rattled by my courage in calling him a failure. And now he sensed my power to stop his rampage.
"Not what I have done," I exclaimed. "What I am doing." I watched his confused reaction pinch his face. "I am stopping the chain of the prophecies. Ending your curse. There will be another day with light."
"You fool!" he blasted. "It's too late to stop it. You are here now. Your presence is proof that you have chosen to return to your home. To tell your people of the eclipse.” He waited a moment. “Tell us of it!"
"No,” I stated. “You are wrong. I am here now to stop you and your evil curse. To stop the eclipse." I paused. "I have become my own person. You have failed. Father."
His face reddened with anger as his hands shook with rage.
And then he called out, "Seize her!"
Maeve raised her sword and lunged past me, swiping the long blade side to side, creating an invisible barrier to hold back the attacking Druids.
Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3) Page 14