To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  Neala nodded and stared at the blue flowers growing between the flagstones.

  “Same with my da,” he said.

  A few steps later they were at the front door. Neala blushed again as she realized they were still holding hands. He seemed to have a knack for making her blush by doing practically nothing. Her heart dropped when he let go of her hand to open the door for her.

  The wonderful aroma of perfectly spiced potato soup stirred her hunger and drove her embarrassment away. It rushed back when he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her inside. Even with such food awaiting it was hard to keep her focus off Bren and all that he represented.

  4

  Not only would Dierdre accept no payment or servitude, she even packed a little bread and cheese for Neala’s trip home. After making Neala promise to come back and visit, Dierdre escorted her out the door, not even allowing her to help with the dishes.

  At the paddock where Dubh waited, Dierdre came to an abrupt halt, the bundle of food slipping from her hand. A pale flash streaked by as Bren shot forward and caught the bundle before it hit the ground.

  Dierdre didn’t even notice Bren. One hand clutched at her chest while she fixed Dubh with a startled look. She muttered something in the old tongue and leaned forward as if she wanted to touch him but feared doing so.

  To show he was harmless, Neala patted his neck and scratched between his eyes. Inwardly she cringed as she awaited the curse that many uttered upon seeing him. His eyes were such a dark green most people didn’t notice them, but when they did this was a typical reaction.

  “Nothin’ to fear, he’s only a big black horse,” Neala said when the silence stretched on and became unbearable.

  At least Dierdre hadn’t called him the cursed name that everyone else did, yet. Blinking away her surprised look, Dierdre straightened her back and smoothed out her tunic.

  “He’s magnificent, to be sure. Tis just those eyes, they startled me a bit.”

  Gazing into Dubh’s unusual green eyes, Neala braced herself. Surely now the name would fall from her Dierdre’s lips. His black coat and green eyes made some think him a púca, the shapeshifter of legend that destroyed people’s lives. Bren leaned close to take a look at Dubh.

  “Hmm, I didn’t even notice,” he said before shrugging and striding off to the barn.

  For a few uncomfortable moments, Neala stood alone with Dierdre, tension thrumming through her as she waited for the woman to speak. But Dierdre only stared at Dubh, her bottom lip quivering, water filling her eyes. The energy surrounding her didn’t look or feel frightened. There was almost an air of betrayal that darkened her power. Odd.

  Hoof beats broke the silence as Bren rode a black and white gelding out of the barn. Eager to be away, Neala slipped the bridle on Dubh and leapt onto his back.

  “Ye’ve been far too kind. Ye really don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “Course I do. The forest is no place for a lady to be alone.”

  Neala’s eyes widened as he accepted a sword belt from his ma and strapped it on. The metal pommel shone in the sun.

  “Me parents might get angry if they see ye with me,” she said.

  “Not a problem. I’ll stop before we get to yer home,” he said.

  That was hard to argue with, especially since she didn’t want to part ways with him yet. She nodded and squeezed her legs so Dubh started walking. Dierdre retreated to the house and waved as they rode off. They traveled in silence for a while as Neala worked up the courage to ask all that had been nagging at her. She considered breaking her parents’ rule on not telling anyone about the Danes. They were right though, people panicking wouldn’t be a good thing. When the forest surrounded them she finally found her voice.

  “Me parents told me there were no other druids.”

  One of Bren’s dark eyebrows lifted. “We’ve lived here me entire life and there are others in our clan. Maybe yer parents didn’t know because of the separation of the clans,” he said.

  “Maybe. How many more are there?” she asked. It was hard not to hold her breath in anticipation of the answer.

  Bren’s gaze went skyward and his lips moved silently as if he was counting in his head. “Around fifty I think. Our kind are so secretive it’s hard to be sure though,” he said.

  Fury prickled below her skin, burning as it spread through her body. A wave of dizziness rushed over her and she had to grab hold of Dubh’s mane to keep from falling. Bren moved his horse closer and grabbed her arm to steady her. His touch helped drive away the dizziness but not the anger.

  “Are ye all right?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “There’s no way me parents couldn’t have known that. They kept me secreted away, isolated from me own kind. How could they do that?” She looked deep into his eyes as if she could find the answer there. All she found was compassion.

  “They were probably tryin’ to protect ye.”

  Not wanting him to see the rage in her eyes, Neala looked off into the forest. “Well they failed. The other children knew I was different and they treated me horribly. They still do,” she said in a voice that was thick with pain.

  If what he said was true, then there had been no reason for her to grow up an outcast, isolated from her own kind. All she had endured had been for nothing. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to stifle a sob.

  “I’m sorry ye had to grow up like that. But hey, ye know me now, and I’d never treat ye that way,” Bren said.

  Their horses moved apart and he had to let go of her arm but she could still feel his touch and the energy it left behind. Not knowing what to say, she just smiled. The tender look in his eyes made her believe they weren’t hollow words.

  Dubh froze in mid-stride. The tension running through him made Neala tear her gaze from Bren and scan the forest. Beside her Bren’s horse started to shift about.

  “We’re not alone,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  Swinging his leg over his horse’s neck, he dropped to the ground and handed his reins to her. “Hold onto him for me, please. I can’t chance him getting hurt, he’s our only horse.”

  Her pulse sped up and she locked gazes with him. The protectiveness in his eyes was noble, but also annoying. She wasn’t helpless. But then, she hadn’t expected to come across any trouble in the forest. As he drew his sword she realized, he had. She felt foolish. This wasn’t her forest. The dangers lurking within it were unknown to her.

  “I can fight too,” she said.

  Bren gave her a crooked grin that made her blood heat with anger. “Ye don’t have to with me here,” he said.

  Figures stepped out from behind the trees, three in all. There were more hidden. Neala could feel the press of their energy behind her. They were normal humans but there were five of them, plenty to cause them trouble. She swallowed hard and tightened up on her reins as Dubh started to prance about. The figures were men and they were armed with swords and daggers. The hungry way their eyes crawled over her made her want to hide inside her cloak. From the rugged look of them they undoubtedly belonged to a fiann, one of the fighting bands that roamed the forest.

  One of them raised his sword and took a step in Bren’s direction. He was older and bigger than Bren. Unkempt hair surrounded a face that was etched with cruelty and smattered with a short beard. By his size and ruthless looks Neala was afraid he could take Bren. That thought made her power buzz and crackle beneath her skin. She couldn’t let him get hurt because of her. But what could she do? Her slight hand-to-hand training would hardly help against blades.

  “Give us the woman and the horses and we’ll let ye go,” the man said.

  Bren repositioned his feet into a fighting stance, keeping both Neala and the man in sight. He fixed the man with a stare so cold it made Neala shiver. She could feel Bren’s energy building like flood water behind a damn. The pressure was making her ears hurt.

  “Ye and yer fiann walk away now and I won’t hurt ye,” Bren said. Th
e confidence in his voice was impressive but Neala feared it was only a good bluff. There was no way he could beat them all alone.

  The man laughed and the sound was echoed by his companions. Neala didn’t want to imagine what they had planned for her but she couldn’t stop her fear-filled mind from it. She wasn’t going to let them take her without fighting for herself. Bren was in for a surprise if he thought lasses couldn’t fight.

  “Ye must not be able to count boy. There are five of us and only one of ye. Walk away now before I cut yer legs out from under ye,” the leader said.

  Bren took a step closer to the man, putting himself between him and Dubh. “Ye going to keep talkin’ or fight? Or are ye afraid of a boy?” he asked in a steady voice.

  His confidence astounded her. She was beginning to think he wasn’t bluffing, or at least that he didn’t think he was. It made him either very attractive or very stupid.

  “Let’s get on with it, I have other things to do,” Bren said.

  The fiann leader brought his sword back and lunged for Bren, letting out a battle cry. Bren raised his free hand like he was motioning for the man to stop. Neala felt Bren’s energy spike and saw it shoot out from his hand like a bolt. It slammed into the fiann leader and threw him back several feet. He landed in a group of ferns, his sword flying from his fingers. The members of his fiann hesitated, exchanging nervous glances.

  Mouth agape, Neala stared in awe. She had no idea her kind could do anything like that. Her parents couldn’t, at least not that she knew of.

  The fiann leader sat up, fury scrunching his features. He shot piercing looks at his men. “What are ye waitin’ for? I slipped. Get him!” he commanded.

  The others started to move in. Dubh kicked back and Neala both heard and felt his hind leg connect with one of the men. The man let out a wail and stumbled back, clutching his shoulder. The other three men closed in on Bren. He raised his sword to block the swing of one man while thrusting his free hand toward the other. Another bolt of energy shot from his palm and struck the second man, throwing him back like it had his leader. The remaining two men standing drew away.

  “What are ye, a sidhe?” The man who had swung the sword at Bren asked.

  The intended insult made Neala cringe despite the fact that it was one of the kinder names people called druids.

  “I’m somethin’ ye don’t want to mess with,” Bren said in a cool, steady voice.

  The man shook his head and took a step back. The others retreated as well. Neala let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The men started to disappear in the mess of trees, vines, and ferns. The fiann leader was the only one who hesitated. His eyes flicked from Bren to her, then back. Finally, he stepped into the ferns, ducked behind a tree, and was gone. Bren sheathed his sword and leapt onto his horse, taking the reins from Neala.

  “They might come back with others, run,” he whispered to her.

  With barely any urging, Neala launched Dubh into a canter. She was careful to hold him back from an all out run so they didn’t repeat what had happened last time. Just thinking about the fall she’d taken had her heart beating out a rhythm that kept time with Dubh’s hooves. The forest whipped by in a blur of greens and browns. Pine boughs brushed her legs as they went through areas packed tight with trees.

  At the tangy scent of horse sweat Neala gathered up the reins and slowed Dubh to a brisk trot to save his energy. Just as they came to a small clearing Bren caught up with her and trotted his horse alongside her.

  Once they crossed the green meadow they slowed their horses to a walk. Questions gnawed at Neala’s mind but she had to catch her breath before she could ask them. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Bren. She was fascinated not only by what he’d done with his power, but by the simple fact that he had protected her. They were practically strangers after all.

  “Thank ye. Not many men would have done what ye did for a lass they just met,” she said.

  His features dropped into a look of disappointment. “That’s part of what’s wrong with the world,” he said. After a moment he thrust his chin up and turned to look at her. “Ye’re welcome.”

  She smiled and his expression softened. “Ye used yer power to attack those men,” she said. “How did ye do that?”

  His brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I’m a warrior druid. It’s the nature of me power, just like ye,” he said.

  Confusion and anger stirred within Neala. She was starting to get used to anger’s presence. This sounded like something else her parents hadn’t told her about, something big.

  “What is a warrior druid? And what do ye mean, just like me?” she asked.

  Bren gave her a long, hard look. The impulse to force it out of him was hard to fight. Her energy rose like a fire within her and she had to concentrate hard to suppress it. Dubh began to prance in response to her spike of energy, lifting his knees high. She couldn’t soothe him when she couldn’t even soothe herself though.

  “Yer parents really did shelter ye,” he said as he gave her a sympathetic look. “There are two kinds of druids, warriors and healers. Ye really didn’t know?”

  “They told me our kind were healers,” she said as she looked down at Dubh’s neck. It may not be her fault but she still felt foolish for not knowing these things.

  “How did they explain what ye can do?” Bren asked.

  She couldn’t bring herself to look up. “I can’t do much besides push things and see energy.”

  Bren reached over and touched her arm. “That’s probably because ye either came into yer power late or because ye don’t know how to use it. It sounds like yer parents didn’t want ye to know how. But ye’re a warrior druid for sure. I can feel it,” he said.

  The fervent tone of his voice made her look over at him. Conviction shone in his eyes and her heart lifted. Maybe she wasn’t useless as a druid after all.

  “Ye really think so?”

  “I know it.”

  Neala’s insecurities fled in a rush of excitement. “Teach me,” she said. With the Danes knocking on their back door this was exactly what she needed. There was a chance she could use her power to protect her family and her land. She wasn’t going to pass that up.

  Worry darkened Bren’s eyes. “Won’t yer parents be mad?” he asked.

  “No, because we won’t tell them. We can meet and train in secret,” she said. The thrill that idea sent through her was more than worth her parents’ wrath.

  Gaze returning to the forest before them, Bren chewed on his bottom lip. She had to convince him. For a moment she again considered telling him about the Danes. But no matter how angry she was with her da, she didn’t want to disobey him outright on that, not yet at least.

  “Come on, it’s obvious I’m not safe,” she pressed.

  He let out a long sigh and gave her a defeated look that barely covered his excitement.

  “When can ye sneak away?”

  5

  The next day Neala finished her chores in a flash, leaving her entire afternoon free. The dishes from lunch were still drying when she grabbed a muffin from the basket on the kitchen table and started for the door. The tedium of daily activities was driving her crazy now that she knew there was a fight brewing.

  “Where are ye off to?” her ma asked from her seat by the fire where she was crocheting.

  How her ma could stand such a task right now was beyond her. But then, her people were used to living with the threat of invasion and had conditioned themselves to believe it wouldn’t reach them. A part of Neala wanted to tear the yarn from her ma’s hands and shake some sense into her. The way she saw it, fear wasn’t always a bad thing, not when it was warranted.

  Hand on the doorknob; Neala hesitated as she struggled to pick the least suspicious sounding excuse she could come up with.

  “To check on the flock in the high pasture. Unless there’s anythin’ else ye need me to do. Ye said it was safe after all,” she said.

  Her ma’s rigid
posture relaxed and she gave Neala a small smile. “No, go ahead. Have a nice ride. But do be careful,” she said.

  What, did she think Neala had been about to dash off to battle? Surely her ma didn’t think she was that daft.

  “I will,” Neala called back as she slipped out the door and ran for the barn.

  A day ago she would have felt horrible for lying to her ma but now that she knew her parents had lied to her, it didn’t matter. If they could do it so easily so could she. Besides, her lie wasn’t nearly as hurtful as theirs. It wasn’t like she was lying to them about what they were capable of.

  Dubh nickered at her as she came in the barn. Grabbing his bridle, she stepped into his stall and found he wasn’t alone. Two fairies floated in the air near his mane, weaving his black hair into delicate braids. He stood very still, head drooped as if he didn’t want to mess them up. Both of the fairies were female and wore a gossamer type of fabric that covered less than their long blond hair did. One had wings the color of the bluebell flowers that grew in the pasture. The other’s wings reminded Neala of the purple wisteria that clung to the roof of Bren’s house.

  “Ah, thank ye ladies for doing such a fine job of groomin’ him.”

  The blue winged fairy dropped the locks of Dubh’s mane and turned to Neala. She smiled and floated over to her. Those impossibly tiny hands picked up Neala’s long brown hair and started to weave it expertly.

  “Not today Flora. I have somewhere to go,” Neala said.

  The fairy’s shoulders sagged in disappointment and she moved away with a few lazy beats of her wings. Dubh pushed his nose into Neala’s hand, forcing her to pull the muffin away.

  “Don’t be greedy now boy, ye have guests,” she told him.

  He kept pushing at her, forcing her to turn her back on him. She tore the muffin in half and reached outside the stall to place half of it on top of the grain barrel.

  “There ye go ladies,” Neala said.

  The two fairies flew out to fetch the treat, touching Neala’s hair and face as they passed.