Highland Blood (The Celtic Blood Series Book 2)

by Melanie Karsak

  “She’ll be okay,” Uald reassured her. “She’s a fighter.”

  “It’s too dangerous, carrying two.”

  Uald shook her head. “Nothing will stop your niece. Nothing would dare.”

  I smiled at Uald then turned to go back. Before I did so, however, I noticed a strange, blurry spot on the hillside. The moment I saw it, I travelled to and through it, arriving once more at the cauldron terrace in Ynes Verleath. Andraste and Nimue stood waiting.

  “Andraste?” I whispered.

  “The legend of Cerridwen tells that the Goddess bore a son who was Taliesin. Yet, as we all know, Taliesin was Goddess-loved, thus he had a secret name. Can you guess it, Cerridwen?”

  I shook my head. My soul was tired. I had lost so much energy in the birthing process. I heard Sid whisper “come back” into my ear.

  Andraste smiled at me. “The Goddess called him Lulach. Go, child. Your babies await.”

  I turned away from Ynes Verleath, my raven’s eyes spying the coven below me, but in the darkness far away, I saw fire. I smelled smoke and felt the flames. And I heard screaming.

  “Gruoch!” Gillacoemgain called. “Gruoch!”

  “Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. I moved to go to him.

  “No,” Sid yelled, appearing in her spirit guise before me. “No!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly back toward my body.

  I heard myself suck in a deep breath.

  “Back. She’s back,” Sid said, sounding relieved

  “Thank the Mother,” Epona said, her words drowned out by a squalling voice. “Your daughter,” she said, setting a wailing bundle in my hands.

  “Oh Crearwy,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against her head. “Oh, my poor sweet baby, your father is dead.”

  The women in the room were stuck silent.

  Through my tear-clouded eyes, I looked at Sid who picked up another bundle and handed it to me. “Your son.”

  Madelaine entered a moment after, clasping her hands before her mouth as she looked at me.

  “A boy and a girl,” I told her.

  Weeping, Madelaine leaned over me and the little ones, kissing all of us.

  While Crearwy cried, my baby boy looked around with squinty little eyes. “Hello, Lulach,” I said, kissing him on the forehead. My emotions poured out of me, and I wept bitterly. I knew that Gillacoemgain was dead. And he had died thinking he was leaving me and his children behind. I didn’t know what was going to come next, but more than anything else, I knew I had to protect our children.

  “Feisty gal,” Sid said at last, bending over to kiss Crearwy. “Maybe try nursing her?” she suggested, gently taking Lulach from me.

  “Come now, little lass,” I told her, setting her to breast. Luckily, she latched easily.

  It was then that I saw that something had caught Sid’s attention. She was looking from Lulach to the incorporeal air, seemingly listening to someone. Nadia.

  “Yes,” she whispered then added, “go ahead.”

  I squinted my eyes to see the fairy woman but was too exhausted.

  Sid smiled at me. “She kissed him, put a blessing on him. Look,” she said, touching Lulach between eyebrows where he now had a small red dart on his skin.

  I nodded then lay my head back. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks. My whole world had shifted out from under me in a single moment. I looked from Lulach to Crearwy then closed my eyes.

  “Farewell,” I whispered, hoping that if Gillacoemgain’s spirit lingered nearby, he would hear.

  Chapter 25

  I spent the next few days recovering, mindful that I needed to return as soon as possible. If my vision was true, I needed to be ready. I had not meant to, but I’d fallen in love with Gillacoemgain. The idea that he was gone broke my heart. As Gillacoemgain’s wife, I was able to forget that Duncan was truly my children’s father. I could pretend. It was easy to play the part. With Gillacoemgain, I was the Lady of Moray. I was not a priestess or Boudicca or one of the Wyrd Sisters. My druid husband had not abandoned me. I was a woman loved by a man. And I, in turn, had loved my husband. It was a dream I’d slowly grown attached to, and now, it seemed, that dream was gone. Tears slid slowly down my cheeks, and I mourned the man I believed to be dead, and with him, my future. Now, I would have to face the truth. I was responsible, once more, for my vengeance. I was alone. And now, I had two small children who would rely on me to protect them like only the raven could.

  One morning, I woke to cries. Lulach slept soundly while Crearwy called. I lifted her and began to nurse her. How different they were. Lulach was a very peaceful child. Crearwy, on the other hand, seemed to fuss at everything. Once she was eating, however, she turned peaceful. How sweet she looked, her dark hair curling around her tiny ears. I gently stroked her head, my eyes drifting closed once more. I was awoken a moment later when Epona entered.

  “Sorry to wake you,” she whispered, sitting down at the edge of the bed. She gazed at Crearwy, took a deep breath, then said, “We must talk.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Epona frowned, a worried expression on her face. “I…I had Uald fetch a wet nurse.”

  “You’ve brought an outsider here?” I stared at her.

  She nodded.

  “But there is no need. I can handle both of the children. It is tiring, but I can do it. Once I return, I’ll have my maid to help me.”

  Epona was silent for a long time.

  “What is it?”

  “The future of this coven is of great importance to me. The old ways are dying out. Each year fewer and fewer young girls learn the ancient arts. Something must be done. I must ensure our way of life continues. I…I was given a vision. My successor must be someone who has been raised here from birth, someone trained in the old ways from a young age. That is the only way. The Mother herself revealed this to me. Crearwy…Crearwy is meant to succeed me, to take my place as Lady here. I have seen the future. It is destined.”

  “Crearwy?” I looked down at the child.

  Epona nodded. “The night you told me what happened, the night you conceived your little ones, I saw a vision of your daughter here with us.”

  “Then you have brought the nurse, not to help me, but so I can leave Crearwy here.”

  “Yes.”

  “What if I don’t want to leave Crearwy here?”

  Epona was silent.

  “Epona!”

  “Cerridwen, Crearwy must remain here. The highland blood in your veins is full of magic. We will need your—and Crearwy’s—help in order for the religion to survive. I know what I say is true. If you doubt me, ask Andraste. She knows what will be.”

  “You want me to give up my daughter?” I whispered.

  “No. I want you to leave her in my care. Leave her here and Uald, Sid, and all the others will be her mother. We will love her and raise her and train her to be the next leader of this coven. She will grow up away from court life.”

  “I…but Epona, she’s my daughter.”

  “Yes. And you can choose to free her of the obligations that have chained you. You can leave her to a life in service of the divine.”

  I stared at Epona.

  “I…I know what I ask of you seems impossible. Let me leave you to think on it.”

  Epona rose and left me to my thoughts.

  I looked down at Crearwy. The tiny baby cooed as she ate. She was pretty, pretty as any baby could be. As she ate, she opened and closed her tiny hands. I loved her with my whole heart. I loved her and Lulach more than I had ever loved anyone or anything.

  Epona was asking for something I could not give. I could not give my daughter up to be raised by another, could I? But could I give her up to get her away from the intrigues of court? When Malcolm died, Duncan would rule over her fate. I couldn’t stand the thought. I could offer her a better life than the one I’d been given. What was I to do? I could ask Andraste. If anyone knew what was destined, it was her. The Wyrds. It was Andraste’s job to know. But she riddled. No,
I would not ask Andraste. I would wait and go to the source.

  That night, as the children slept under Sid’s watchful care, I went outside. The winter wind whipped coldly. I went to the well and rested my head on the cold stones. I had planned to do a casting, to call the raven and seek the answers from the dark goddesses, but I was too tired. It would have to wait. I rose to go back inside, but found Bride coming toward me.

  “What do you need? I can fetch it for you,” I called, concerned to find her in the chilly night air.

  The wind blew her hood back and revealed a face that did not belong to Bride. The Crone. “Such a kind heart,” she said.

  I bowed my head. “Lady.”

  “You are right that Andraste riddles, and too much depends on the truth. Leave Crearwy with Epona. She is right. Crearwy is her successor. The women of your line belong to the Goddess. The men belong to the world,” the Crone said then turned to leave.

  “What else doesn’t Andraste tell me?” I called against the wind.

  “A woman who calls back the Goddess of Death,” the Crone said with a laugh. “For your courage, I will answer you. While Epona has waited for Crearwy, Andraste has waited for you.”

  “For me?”

  “As her successor.”

  “But how?”

  The sound of a door swinging open caught both my and the Goddess’ attention. Bride. Clutching her wrap, Bride stepped outside.

  “Heard my voice, did you? Not yet,” the Crone told Bride and then walked into the darkness where she disappeared.

  Bride and I exchanged glances. Bride shook her head then went back inside. I headed back into Sid’s house. Sid was dozing peacefully in a chair by the fire.

  I sat down on the side of the bed and stared at my children. I was the one Andraste waited for. But how was that possible? I couldn’t return to Ynes Verleath now. I had to return to the courtly life. If Gillacoemgain was truly gone, so much would be in upheaval. Lulach and Crearwy were the heirs of Moray. I had an obligation to them. I would need to fight to protect what belonged to them.

  I sighed deeply, not wanting to think of it. Lulach woke then. I picked the child up and rocked him. “Lulach for the world,” I whispered as the tiny baby blinked, straining to look at me. “I guess we shall see.”

  Madelaine came the next morning with breakfast. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked Sid and me, setting a tray on the table beside me. “Uald is frustrated. Epona is sullen. And there is a stranger here. No one will tell me anything.”

  “The stranger…she’s a wet nurse,” I answered.

  “A wet nurse? For you? Did you ask for one?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then why did Epona bring her here?”

  “To help her steal children,” Sid answered absently as she stirred a cauldron hanging over the fire.

  “What does she mean?” Madelaine asked me.

  “Epona wants me to leave Crearwy here.”

  “What!” Madelaine exclaimed, waking Lulach who fussed at the interruption. “Oh, my little one,” she said, lifting him, “I’m so sorry. Gruoch, I hope you told her no.”

  I looked at Crearwy who was still sleeping.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “What in the world do you mean? You can’t just leave her here.”

  “Imagine what your life would have been like if you had been raised here. Imagine if you had never been married off to Alister. If I leave Crearwy here, she will be free in a way neither you nor I ever were.”

  “But she carries royal blood.”

  Did she ever. “Which she will dedicate to the old gods, to the old ways,” I said, making an argument I wasn’t sure I even believed.

  Sid turned and looked at me. “If you decide to do as Epona asks, know that I will stay by her always, love her like my own. You have my word.”

  Madelaine eyed Sid warily.

  “As would Uald,” I told Madelaine, “and Epona, and all the others.”

  “Druanne holds no love for you.”

  Sid snorted. “She’s all sound and fury. Her heart isn’t as hard as she lets on, and she’s a good teacher.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Sid.

  “What? She isn’t all bad,” Sid said.

  I shook my head.

  A moment later, Epona opened the door.

  Furious, Madelaine turned on her. “How could you?” my aunt demanded.

  Epona took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.

  “Madelaine, please,” I said. “This is hard enough,” I added then turned to Epona. “I don’t like this. I don’t want it. But I trust and love you. Bring the girl here. Let me meet her.”

  Epona nodded and left.

  “You are stronger than me. I couldn’t do this even if it is for the best,” Madelaine said as she reached down to stroke Crearwy’s cheek.

  “Not Malcolm, nor Duncan, nor any other will ever rule her. As Moray’s heir, her life would never be her own. Here, her heart is hers to give as she wishes.”

  “What about Lulach?”

  “He’ll stay with me.”

  Madelaine frowned. “Well, I’m sure Gillacoemgain will be pleased with a son, but you’ll leave him to mourn his other child.”

  I said nothing. Until everything was certain, more than just visions, I didn’t want to face what I suspected to be the truth. It was Gillacoemgain who was left to be mourned.

  The door opened. Epona came in followed by a young woman with long, brown hair. She had a sweet face and bright green eyes. She smiled softly at me. Without being asked, she came and sat in the chair next to my bed.

  “I am May, My Lady.”

  “Please, call me Cerridwen. I will start with an indelicate question. Have you a babe of your own or did you lose your child?”

  May nodded, understanding, but sadness choked her. “My little one came early, was dead when I birthed him from me.”

  “Do you have any other children?”

  “No.”

  “Your age?”

  “Seventeen years.”

  “And the father?”

  “The child was merry‑begot. I did not know the father.”

  “Do you have any family who will search for you? Is there anyone for whom, or any reason why, you would abandon my daughter?”

  “No. None. I worked at a farm with some good people. I was an orphan. Uald used to come to us to trade and sell wares. She would talk to me, in a general way, about this place from time to time. Like you all, I was raised to worship the Great Mother. It fills my heart to be here. I would love to help raise your daughter amongst these good women and treat her as nicely as I would my own child. All these women will be your child’s mother, and I can tell they all love you.”

  I studied her face closely. She was an honest girl. Her eyes held no deceptions.

  “We should see if Crearwy will accept you,” I said.

  May nodded.

  Epona picked up Crearwy and handed her to May.

  I felt my heart break.

  Madelaine looked away.

  It took a little coaxing to wake the sleeping baby, but finally she was roused. Crearwy fussed at first, not wanting to take to May, but finally she latched on.

  “Best let her feed a couple of days to make sure all will be well,” Epona said.

  “I despise everything about this,” Madelaine told Epona.

  “Elaine,” Epona said softly, calling Madelaine by the Goddess-name I‘d heard used but once before, “this is for the best. Separate your wants from what is right for the girl.”

  “Easy for you to say. Crearwy will be with you, not with her mother, not with her kin,” Madelaine retorted. “In the end, you get what you want.”

  I reached out and set my hand on Madelaine’s shoulder.

  Frustrated, she rose and went outside.

  Sid lifted Lulach from the cradle and handed him to me. I pressed my cheek lightly against his head. His hair was as soft as silk. He let out a contented sigh.

  �
��She’s a pretty little thing,” May said. “Like a little pixie.”

  Sid smiled.

  “She’s feisty though. Cries throughout the night,” I told her.

  May stroked Crearwy’s cheek. “Lovely little lass. Crearwy…that’s her name?”

  I nodded.

  “Sweet baby,” May whispered. “I’ll watch over her. You have my word.”

  I nodded but looked away, unable to control the terrible pain racking my heart to see my child with another.

  Epona wrapped her arm around me and hugged me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in my ear. “I know…I know this must hurt, but please trust me. You’re like a daughter to me. Please trust me.”

  “Us,” Sid corrected.

  “If anything goes wrong,” I told Epona, “you must send her to me at once. You must not hesitate. If this place is…lost, you must return her to me. Sid must open the doorways and bring her to me.”

  “You have my word,” Epona said.

  I looked down at Lulach. “Let’s be sure she takes to May. Then, I must go.”

  Sid set her hand on my shoulder.

  I closed my eyes and prayed the terrible misery creeping across my heart would disappear.

  Madelaine and I stayed amongst the women for two more days. May was able to keep Crearwy full and happy and cared for her despite Crearwy’s angry protests. In the end, I liked the girl. She was intelligent, funny, and sensitive to my sacrifice. As much as I didn’t want it, I knew it was time to return.

  “Tomorrow, we must go back,” I told Madelaine that evening as we sat by the fire. Madelaine held Crearwy, rocking her gently as May, who’d taken over Sid’s cot, slept.

  “We can stay a few more days. Uald met with Tavis this morning. He’s doing fine.”

  I shook my head. “No. We must return.”

  Madelaine raised an eyebrow at me. “Is something…wrong?”

  “Yes.”

  “Something…something bad?”

  I nodded.

  Madelaine sighed. “For one so young, you’ve had too much heartache. My heart is breaking. I cannot imagine how you must feel. I’ll never forgive Epona.”

  “Promise me you’ll come see Crearwy as often as you can.”