To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  Once Dubh had finished his half of the muffin, Neala slid the bridle on him and swung onto his back. This time as she used her energy to give her an extra push she wondered what else it could do. A thrill ran through her. Careful of the little blue flowers the fairies had woven into Dubh’s mane, she grabbed hold of it and leaned over to open his stall door.

  For the first time in her life she had someone besides the fairies to talk to, someone who would talk back. It was icing on the cake that he was so cute—really good, really rich icing. Smiling, Neala urged Dubh into a trot and left the barn, waving back at the fairies. They would always be special to her but she was more than ready to move beyond childhood playmates.

  The sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, forcing Neala to shield her eyes. Considering how rare such weather was this close to the end of spring, she took it as a good sign. The grass was dry and the yellow and blue flowers around the house were open with their petals toward the sun. Every living thing hummed with vitality, making Neala’s skin buzz. Moving through all that energy was almost like moving through water with different currents pulling or pushing. Her awareness had never been quite this focused. But then, she had always thought her power was useless so she had ignored it until now.

  When she rounded the house she came upon her da chopping wood. He smiled and waved as she rode past.

  “Have a good ride. Remember Neala, not a word about Dublin to anyone. There’s nothin’ to worry about,” he said.

  Neala squeezed her eyes shut and flinched inwardly. She had planned to tell Bren about the invaders today. If she lied her da would know. Druids had an uncanny ability when it came to detecting lies.

  “Don’t worry da, I won’t. Ye said it was safe after all. I’ll stack that for ye when I get back,” she said, adding the last part to take the sting out of the dig about it being safe. She didn’t want to give him any reason to call her back. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  The path leading into the forest was clear enough of vines and plants that Neala felt comfortable letting Dubh speed up into a canter. Unlike yesterday’s wild ride, the pace was relaxed and controlled. She wanted to get there fast but she wanted to be in one piece when she arrived. It was a tossup which excited her more—seeing Bren, or learning to use her power. All night she had been picturing his face—and more. Those kind, alluring green eyes wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace.

  The terrain started to change after a while, growing steeper and rockier. She slowed Dubh to a trot and eventually to a walk once he started breathing heavily. He was the kind of horse that would run until he was dripping sweat if she wanted him to.

  The trees became thinner the higher they climbed until soon they were surrounded by only a grassy meadow. The hill leveled out and Neala could see for miles. The green meadow stretched out for a while before being engulfed by the forest. Ancient trees that had seen generations of her kind grew in these mountains. Some were as big around as a small cottage and tall enough that they seemed to brush the clouds. Coming up here always made Neala feel humble and small, yet connected to something big and wonderful at the same time.

  Her da’s family had lived here in the Slieve Bloom Mountains for generations. Seeing it like this helped her understand why her brother had been willing to fight and die for it. Still, a huge part of her would have rather had him back than enjoy this meadow. The thought of going to battle without him sent a shiver through her. But if her parents were to be believed, then the battle wasn’t coming to them. Problem was, she no longer believed her parents.

  “Ye made it,” Bren’s voice came seemingly out of nowhere.

  He was standing at the edge of the forest to her right, not more than ten feet away. Had he been a fiann or a Dane she would have been in trouble, again. One foot was placed casually on a big rock and he rested an arm upon his raised leg. His casual stance made her wonder how long he had been there. Heat flashed through her and her jaw clenched. She should have noticed him. That she didn’t made her feel like a bit of a failure already. A good warrior would have known someone was near. Her brother had taught her better than that.

  But her frustration faded as her eyes trailed the curve of Bren’s bicep and settled on the cute smirk his lips were pulled into. It was hard to remain upset with him smiling at her like that. He had one of those smiles that made a girl warm all over.

  “Of course I made it,” she said as she leapt from Dubh’s back.

  The ground was rockier than it looked and her ankle turned due to the rough, uneven landing. Warmth spread through her and her stomach clenched as the ground rushed toward her. But an embarrassing fall didn’t await her, Bren’s arms did. Despite having seen him half-naked, his strength surprised her, as did his speed. How he had crossed such a distance in the blink of an eye she had no idea. Dubh let out a startled squeal and pawed the ground.

  Neala had a moment to notice how solid Bren felt against her and how good he smelled—like spices and soap—before he stepped away. A quick glance revealed that his cheeks were flushed red which made her smile. He started to give her a shy look from beneath his long lashes then Dubh jumped between them, pawing and squealing at Bren.

  “Dubh no! Back, get back,” Neala commanded.

  Though he snorted and shook his head, he did as she bid. Tiny blue flowers flew free of his mane and fluttered to the ground. Once Dubh was out of the way Neala saw Bren had stepped back and was holding both hands up in a placating gesture.

  “Sorry about that, he’s a bit protective,” Neala said.

  Bren lowered his hands as the stallion backed off. “I’ve noticed that,” he said.

  Neala patted Dubh on the neck, using it as an excuse to look away from Bren. “Thank ye for catchin’ me,” she said.

  Such a lack of grace wasn’t usually like her and it was embarrassing, especially in this instance. First she hadn’t noticed him standing there and now she was being clumsy. Her warrior training was not off to a good start. Bren made her feel flustered and distracted. He was the first boy to ever show her attention, but she didn’t want him to know that.

  “Ye’re welcome,” he said in a tone that suggested he didn’t mind.

  He bent and picked up a handful of the blue flowers that had come free of Dubh’s mane. Lips tightening, Dubh pushed his nose between the two of them and flattened his ears. Neala scratched his nose and pushed it out of the way. It was an automatic reaction to open her palm when Bren handed the flowers to her.

  “I’m sorry I frightened him and ruined yer handiwork,” he said.

  A sharp laugh slipped from her. “Thank ye but I didn’t do it, fairies did. I’m not exactly good at womanly things.”

  She thought she saw a twinge of disappointment before Bren gave her a half-grin and inclined his head. “I should have guessed fairies would be drawn to ye,” he said.

  The comment made her wonder. “Why would they be drawn to me?”

  Bren shrugged. “Like us, they are connected to the Earth and they’re drawn to female druids for some reason, probably yer power,” he said.

  At least that much matched what her ma had told her. It was good to know her parents hadn’t lied about everything. Bren was still looking at her. She enjoyed the weight of his gaze but it made her blush and with her light complexion she knew it would show.

  “Are we going to practice here?” she asked.

  “Tá, this place will do.”

  The way he said tá sent an entirely different kind of flush through her. He used the old language almost freely, as if he wasn’t afraid of someone hearing. She loved that about him.

  With a cluck of her tongue Neala got Dubh to step to her side. He dropped his head, allowing her to remove his bridle. “Go eat,” she told him.

  Tail up in the air, he pranced off into the meadow until he was knee-deep in grass.

  “Won’t he run off?” Bren asked.

  Neala laughed as she watched Dubh wander about with most of his head buried in the tall grass. “No, he won’t let me o
ut of his sight,” she said.

  Bren’s eyebrows rose. His gaze shifted from Neala to Dubh and he nodded. “Ye and that horse have a special bond. Maybe he’s like the púca of legend,” he said.

  Anger flared up and she spun upon Bren, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare. “Just because he’s a bit spirited doesn’t mean he’s a púca. Ye can’t possibly be daft enough to think he ruined me life just because he broke me ankle. He’s saved me life more times than I can count,” she snapped, sounding harsher than she’d meant to.

  Holding his hands up in the same placating gesture he’d used on Dubh, Bren shook his head. “I meant no insult. The púca isn’t evil or bad, the legend is often misunderstood. The púca takes ye on a wild ride that changes yer life forever but that doesn’t mean it changes in a bad way.”

  For years Neala had listened to people curse her horse like he was a devil, calling him púca as if the term were damning. Like the legend, he was a solid black horse with a lot of spirit and a mind of his own. He was so hard to control no one else wanted him. But for Neala he was perfect, if a bit excitable. Why had she never thought of the legend the way Bren had put it? It made her look upon him with a new measure of respect.

  “Ye’re right, thank ye. Ye certainly know a lot about legends,” she said.

  A cute half-smile spread across his face. “Me ma made certain I knew every legend our people ever told. She fears they may get lost since our language and ways are forbidden,” he said, his expression darkening at the last part.

  “That’s great of her. Me brother died fightin’ to protect our ways,” Neala said.

  Bren’s eyes lit up as he grabbed her hand and led her over to a large flat rock. “Daylight’s wastin’, we better get started.”

  He sat on the rock and pulled her down in front of him, his warm hand encasing hers. She folded her legs before her and tried to slow her pounding heart. It wasn’t just Bren’s warm hand in hers; she was excited to finally learn about her power. Everything would change after today. Even if the Danes didn’t come here then she’d be able to defend herself from fianns which would give her much more freedom to roam around.

  “Have ye had any basic fight trainin’?” he asked.

  “A little. Me brother taught me how to fight with me hands and feet.”

  “But not with yer power, right?”

  “Right.”

  A thoughtful look came over Bren as he stared off for a moment. “Can ye control yer own energy at all?” he asked.

  “I can use it to jump higher and I can push on things with it,” she said, hoping that didn’t sound too pathetic.

  Bren picked her hands up and pressed his palms to hers. “All right, push on me,” he said.

  Not wanting to disappoint him, she dug deep into her center, called up her power, and pushed it out through her hands and against his. She could see it leave her like a yellow and blue cloud and push him. It shoved him over onto his back.

  “Oh no Bren! I’m so sorry!” Neala said as she reached for him.

  He sat up laughing, his brown hair a tousled mess. “Don’t be. I asked for it. Yer power is strong.”

  She cast her eyes down, not wanting him to see the tears his kind words had caused. “Thank ye,” she whispered. Her power wasn’t useless after all. The thought reverberated through her mind.

  “Ye’re welcome,” he said in a gentle voice that made her tingle.

  He pressed their hands palm to palm again.

  “Can ye pull me energy into ye?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if he was serious. Was such a thing even possible? The look on his face was serious. Though she had no idea how, she tried to do as he asked. She felt his energy before her and around her hands but she couldn’t pull it to her. After a few moments she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “Don’t be. Only Rectors can control the power of other druids. Yer power is very strong though, so I had to check to see if ye were one,” he said.

  “Rectors?”

  His eyes widened in surprise then his brow furrowed and his lips tightened. Tension sang through his power. It felt like it was crackling around her hands.

  “Yer parents didn’t tell ye about Rectors?” he asked.

  Neala shook her head and said, “Nil.”

  Cursing softly under his breath, Bren rolled his eyes skyward before meeting her gaze. “Rectors are leaders of our kind, those with the most power. They used to lead druid clans back in the time when druids ruled,” he said.

  The world swayed a bit and his grip on her hands tightened, acting as an anchor to a place that no longer felt solid. She was glad she was sitting down so she couldn’t fall. Everything went blurry for a moment, clearing only after a few deep breaths. This information was something she should have known, something she should have been taught despite the fact that they lived separate from other druids.

  Had her parents really never expected she would meet other druids? Had her brother known any of this? No, she couldn’t let her mind go there. She had to stay focused on why she had come here. Well at least on one of the reasons she had come here.

  “All right, so I’m not a Rector. What can I do then?” she asked.

  “Ye can use yer power to increase yer strength and speed. Ye can also draw the energy of other things to ye and use it to feed yer energy,” he said.

  “I thought ye said only Rectors could control other people’s power.”

  Bren shook his head. “Ye can’t control other druids’ power but ye can command the energy in animals, plants, rocks, or even energy created by somethin’ like water, wind, or fire,” he explained.

  A thrill raced through Neala. This was starting to sound more promising than she had imagined. “I can control fire?”

  “Not fire, but the energy that it creates, and only to a point,” he said.

  “Teach me.”

  Bren laughed. It was a light, amused sound, very different from the derogatory laughter she was used to from people. “I will. But first we have to start with the basics,” he said.

  Neala’s heart dropped. The basics didn’t sound like they’d help her against the Danes. “I can already fight fairly well. I’m better even than most of the boys me age.”

  The mirth drained from Bren’s eyes and his face fell into a look that bordered on anger. That look made her realize how bad what she had said sounded. But she couldn’t make it sound better no matter how much she wanted to. Unable to hold his gaze, she looked down.

  “I’m different, the others don’t like that. The boys have never been able to take advantage of me because I’m too strong. That’s the main reason me brother taught me how to fight,” she said.

  As hard as it was to get the words out, she’d had to. She didn’t want him thinking she’d been raped. Though she barely knew him, she liked him and couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking ill of her. His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands, creating a wonderful sensation that thoroughly distracted her.

  “I’m so sorry ye had to grow up like that. I think I would have liked this brother of yers. I’ll teach ye how to use yer power so no one can ever threaten ye again,” he said.

  His gentle tone made her want to melt and his words started her heart to pounding. She looked up and met his eyes without hesitation.

  “Thank ye,” she said with a ferocity that surprised even her.

  A mixture of sadness and determination filled Bren’s eyes. “First ye have to learn to control your own power completely,” he said.

  That was something she felt she had a pretty good grasp on. “Excellent. How?” she asked.

  “Contemplation.”

  Surely she had heard him wrong. “Contemplation?”

  He nodded. Irritation coursed through her, making her power buzz uncomfortably beneath her skin. Since he was still holding her hands she was fairly certain he could feel it.

  “I thought ye were going to teach me how to fight,” she said. They didn’t
have time to sit around in a trance and turn their thoughts inward, contemplating their place in the world. With possibly only a week to prepare, meditating seemed like a waste. She gritted her teeth against the urge to tell him about the Danes.

  “I am, but ye must learn control first. Lesson number one, the best battle is the one ye don’t have to fight. Learning control will help with that,” he said.

  From the reverent way he said the words of the lesson she was guessing it was one he knew well and did not take lightly. But it only tried her patience.

  “And where did ye get that from?” she asked.

  “From me da. He taught me all about control and contemplation,” Bren said. The soft, vulnerable tone of his voice made Neala regret speaking so harshly.

  Squaring her shoulders back and forcing a smile, Neala said, “Well then, I shall trust yer da’s wisdom. Teach away.”

  6

  Neala found that with the right motivation she was getting quite efficient at completing her chores quickly. The sun hadn’t even reached its high point in the sky when she used the excuse of wanting to pick blackberries to leave.

  “Brilliant! I’ll come with ye. I’ve been wantin’ to pick some blackberries,” her ma said.

  Desperation made Neala’s mind race.

  “Actually ma, I’m meetin’ a friend to pick berries with. I hope that’s all right,” she said.

  Her ma’s face lit up with a beaming smile. “Is this friend a girl or a boy? And where did ye meet them?”

  “While I was out for a ride. And don’t fret ma, ye know I wouldn’t befriend just anyone. Ye’ll make me late and this is the first friend I’ve had,” Neala begged.

  Nodding, Cecily practically shoved Neala out the door in her enthusiasm. “Tis true, I don’t think I’ve seen ye befriend anyone in all yer nearly seventeen years. I won’t be a bother then. Ye go along, but be careful and stay on our clan’s land,” she said.

  Neala hated lying, it brought her down to their level and made her no better than them. What would her brother think of how her relationship with them had deteriorated since his death? No, she couldn’t think that way. This was for a good cause.