To Ride A Púca

by Heather McCorkle

  The day was clear and warm so she left her cloak behind. Her riding breeches and tunic would be warm enough. As she walked to the barn she wove her long brown hair back in a tight braid and tucked it beneath her tunic in hopes of disguising her femininity a little. If seen from a distance, a fiann might guess she was a young man and leave her alone. She hoped.

  Woven basket in hand, she and Dubh set off into the sun-dappled forest. What she’d told her ma wasn’t a lie, she was going to pick berries, she just planned on delivering them to Bren’s ma. Now she’d have to pick more to bring home. It bothered Neala that she couldn’t pay Dierdre for having healed her. The level of power it took to heal a broken bone was great and Neala had seen how tired Dierdre had been afterward. Besides, the kindness of strangers—especially those from another clan—was nothing to be taken lightly.

  The blackberry briars weren’t hard to find once she got deep enough into the forest. The problem was the best ones grew near the river’s edge, well outside of her clan’s territory. She’d have to work fast or risk being discovered by someone she probably didn’t want to run into. Choosing an oak tree that cast a good amount of shade, Neala slid from Dubh’s back and dropped his reins. If anyone approached she wanted him close in case they had to run. Heedless of the thorns, he stuck his nose into the briars and began eating berries.

  Neala moved far enough away that Dubh wouldn’t be able to steal her berries and started to fill the basket. They smelled so enticing and sweet that more than a few made it into her mouth. The warm sun and the sound of the river lapping nearby, soon lulled her into a comfortable mood. She even started humming an old song beneath her breath, one that the noisy birds in the trees above had reminded her of.

  The basket was nearly full when the birds stopped singing. Her humming died and she cast a glance back at the trail. There was no one there but Dubh who stood on stiff legs, ears perked in the direction of the trail. The odd feel to the air could be her imagination but there was no way she was going to chance that. Besides, the fear coursing through her wouldn’t allow her to stay there and get caught.

  A few tugs and she freed Dubh of the tree. He pranced along beside her, tail high in the air. The blackberry briars were so thick they blocked any access to the river. After traveling along them for a few desperate moments Neala found a spot thin enough for her and Dubh to fit through. The problem was that the ground plunged almost straight down to the river.

  Eyes on the water nearly ten feet down, Neala slid down the fern-covered embankment. Her breeches snagged on something and tore. A line of pain sliced along her left thigh but it wasn’t bad, just a scratch. By sheer luck, or talent, Dubh made the descent look effortless and managed not to land on top of her. They ended up clinging to a narrow bank only a few feet from the water’s edge. Somehow she had kept hold of the basket and most of the berries remained in it. She couldn’t see up the embankment but she didn’t need to. The sound of horses approaching was loud enough to be heard over the slow moving river.

  It sounded like several horses at least and they were trotting along at a brisk pace. Neala’s heart pounded so hard it almost hurt and she was afraid to breathe. There was no way anyone could see her down here, but what if they noticed where she and Dubh had crashed through the brush? Fear propelled her power through her blood stream until she was shaking from its pressure. Coming here alone had been a mistake. If a fiann caught her they would do horrible things to her, things she wasn’t sure she wanted to live through. Even if it was just members of the other clan, they would not take kindly to her being unescorted. Trespassers were often killed.

  It felt as though her power were trying to tear her apart from the inside out. Her fear fed it. Energy started to leak from her fingers, surrounding them in a green-blue mist. That hadn’t happened in years, but then she had never been this scared.

  Dubh nudged her shoulder with his nose, his forelock tickling her neck. The gentle touch had a calming effect which made the leaking energy stop and helped slow her thudding heart. She realized the pounding hooves were fading into the distance. Letting out a long sigh, she rested her head against Dubh’s. The stallion took the opportunity to poke his nose into the basket and grab a mouthful of berries.

  Resisting the urge to laugh—more out of relief than amusement—she pulled the basket away from him and started up the hill. Dubh waited until she was nearly atop the hill before he leapt up it. Neala checked what she could see of the trail and listened hard before stepping out from behind the bushes. Whoever it had been was gone. Moving as fast as she could, she grabbed a few handfuls of berries to replace those that had tumbled out and the ones Dubh had eaten. Her haste earned her a few pricks and scratches from thorns. Better that than getting caught by the river alone.

  Using her pent up energy to propel her, she jumped onto Dubh’s back and urged him into a brisk trot. As soon as they were on the trail she let him pick up the pace to a canter. His gait was so smooth and easy to ride that not a single berry bounced out of the basket. There were advantages to having a draft horse as one’s riding horse. Then again, a riding horse would have got there faster. Each drum of his hooves upon the ground got them closer to Bren’s house but it felt painfully slow. Her heart was racing far faster than Dubh’s pace and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Bren’s home came into view. Relief poured through Neala, tearing a cry from her. The fear that had threatened to burst her heart faded as Dubh’s pace slowed. She had been stupid to make this journey alone. The fear made her aware of how vulnerable she was and made her feel weak. By the time she put Dubh in the coral both her breathing and her power were back under control, but it had taken a lot of effort.

  She found Bren’s ma around the back of the cottage working in her garden. Such a simple, peaceful scene made her heart hurt. On one hand she felt like Dierdre deserved to know about the threat that had invaded their shores, on the other, she didn’t want worry her unnecessarily. If her parents were right then there was no danger. The battle of the two possibilities made her sick to her stomach.

  “Neala, it’s so nice to see ye again,” Dierdre called out as she waved from her crouched position among a group of herbs.

  “And ye as well Dierdre,” Neala said with a smile.

  Dierdre put a bundle of rosemary into a basket and stood. Her eyes flicked to the paddock and back to Neala. Something flashed in them. Was it regret, nervousness? It passed too quickly for Neala to tell. “Ye didn’t come alone did ye?” she asked.

  The way Dierdre narrowed her eyes and placed a hand upon her hip made Neala look away. “I did,” she admitted.

  Dierdre made a tsking noise. “Ye shouldn’t have done that dear. The woods are not safe for a lass alone,” she said.

  The truth of her words stung. She had come far too close to finding out just how dangerous the woods were. “I know,” she mumbled as she chanced a look up.

  Dierdre gave her a knowing smile that made Neala want to hide behind her hair. She was pretty sure she knew what the woman was thinking, that she couldn’t wait to see Bren. While the main reason had been to repay Dierdre a little, Neala couldn’t deny that was true as well. She needed to continue her training, the sooner the better.

  “What have ye got there?” Dierdre asked as she leaned in close to peek in Neala’s basket.

  The fact that she’d gotten so easily distracted by the thought of Bren made her blush, but she pushed the embarrassment aside. “Blackberries, they’re for ye,” she said.

  A small squeal escaped Dierdre and she clapped her hands before briefly embracing Neala. Eyes wide and filled with delight, she accepted the basket and started for the cottage.

  “Thank ye! I’m going to put these in a bowl so ye can have yer basket back,” she said.

  As they walked Dierdre went on and on about the cobbler she’d been thinking of making and hadn’t had time to gather berries for. Her kindness was a lot for Neala to take in. Aside from he
r parents, most people wouldn’t even talk to her. It was refreshing to meet someone who was so easily accepting and friendly.

  After handing the basket back, Dierdre looked down at the dress she was wearing, seemingly considering the hemline. It was a plain beige dress with lovely patterns stitched in green along the hem, waist, and bodice. Neala wasn’t much one for dresses but she liked the simple beauty of this one. Maybe it was just because Dierdre was wearing it.

  “It’ll do for the village. Come on, I’ll escort ye there,” she said as she grabbed a cloak off a peg by the door.

  Shock rooted Neala to the spot for a moment. “Why the village?” she asked as she rushed to catch up with her.

  Dierdre waved a hand and turned toward the barn. “It’s a lovely day for a ride and besides, ye’ll need someone to escort ye home. Bren should be just about finished with his work for the day.”

  A mixture of dread and excitement churned in Neala’s stomach. She wanted to see Bren. In fact, she hadn’t realized how bad until the possibility was presented. But going into a strange village where she didn’t know anyone did not sound appealing. Going into a village where she was known was bad enough.

  “No Dierdre, really ye don’t have to. It was not my intent to impose upon ye,” Neala protested.

  With a heave, Dierdre slid the barn door open and stepped in to the nickered greeting of a horse. The scents of hay and horse mingled with that of dried herbs in a manner that was odd but not unpleasant. It reminded Neala of something. Her eyes were drawn up to the hayloft. Hanging from the rafters above the bundles of hay was every herb she could imagine and several she couldn’t. On the floor level there were two stalls on one side of the barn and a makeshift forge and an anvil on the other. This explained why Bren smelled like spices and steel. It looked like his private area for blacksmithing.

  “Ye are not imposin’. I have to go into the village to see the butcher today anyway,” Dierdre said as she headed for the horse’s stall.

  Left with no other argument, Neala followed along. Soon they were both mounted up and riding through the dense forest on a trail that looked like it was used by deer more often than by horses. The sun was barely able to slip through the thick pine boughs overhead, but considering how warm the day had become, Neala didn’t mind. The cool shade felt wonderful and helped keep Dubh from overheating. Dierdre chatted companionably, asking about Neala’s family and home. The woman was a good listener which made her easy to talk to, but she also had a knack for filling the silence when Neala didn’t know what to say.

  Unlike her parents, Dierdre talked openly about being a druid and said that the more they used their power the closer they were to the circle of life. When discussing this with her, Neala was careful to skirt around how her own parents felt about it. It both fascinated and angered Neala to know that other druids didn’t suppress their nature. When they stepped from the forest onto a road Dierdre abruptly changed the conversation to talk about the village. Apparently her openness only went so far as the safety of the forest. But then Neala could hardly fault her for that. Embracing being a druid in your own home was one thing but talking about it in public only invited trouble.

  The village looked a lot like her own, with houses around its borders and people working in the fields to either side of the road. People smiled and waved as they rode by. Some even called out in greeting. That was very different from her village. Either these people didn’t suspect Dierdre was a druid or they didn’t care. The second option didn’t seem very likely.

  A touch of Neala’s leg moved Dubh closer to Deirdre’s horse. Dierdre tensed and cast Dubh an anxious look before covering it with a flutter of her long lashes. A small pain pierced her heart. Of all people, she didn’t want Dierdre to believe the silly rumors about Dubh just because he was a big, spirited, black horse. She knew she should give the woman some space to make her comfortable, but there was something she had to know first. She leaned over and whispered, “Do they know what ye are?”

  Dierdre gave her a wide-eyed look. “Course not,” she whispered.

  Neala shifted Dubh away from Dierdre’s horse. It was the answer she had expected, but it was still a disappointment. The streets grew busier as they got further into the village and became surrounded by buildings. Everyone seemed to know and like Dierdre. Young men, some older, smiled at Neala and even turned to give her a second look full of appreciation. She wasn’t used to men and boys looking at her like that and she found she liked it. It was nice not to be sneered at. Sure it was only because they didn’t know what she was, but it was still kind of nice.

  “People here are so kind,” Neala said.

  “Yer village isn’t like this?” Dierdre asked.

  “No.”

  Dierdre frowned. “That’s sad.”

  Neala agreed but didn’t say so. Dierdre was open about being a druid in her own home, had supported Bren embracing his power, and still managed to keep it a secret. If Deirdre’s family could do it that meant hers could too. It stung bitterly because it meant she shouldn’t have had to grow up isolated like she had. Neala hadn’t thought it was possible to get angrier at her parents but it was. That anger faded away when they turned a corner and came upon the blacksmith’s shop.

  It was an open shop with no walls, only a roof and support beams. Pieces of plate armor and horseshoes of all sizes hung from the ceiling and beams. Inside were an anvil, a forge, and Bren. He wore only a pair of breeches as he swung a massive hammer that had to weigh at least ten pounds. The hammer rose and fell, making a rhythmic clinking sound as it connected with a plate of armor that sat on his anvil. Sweat plastered his hair to his face and rolled down the muscles of his chest, drawing Neala’s eyes to where the sweat pooled in his belly button.

  The day suddenly seemed way too hot and the air too thick to breathe.

  “Dear, look who I brought by!” Dierdre called out between clinks.

  The words broke the hold Bren’s half-naked body had on Neala’s eyes and she was able to drag her gaze up to his face. It was a good thing too because Bren looked up and his eyes locked on hers. His face lit up and his smile was so huge and genuine it compelled her to return it. He put the hammer down and grabbed a cloth off the table beside him. Wiping his brow with the cloth, he moved from behind the anvil and approached them.

  “Neala, it’s good to see ye,” he said.

  The way he said her name made warmth wash over her and scattered her thoughts as thoroughly as the sight of his bare chest had. The best part was, she could tell he meant it.

  “And ye as well,” she managed.

  Neala watched from beneath her bangs as Bren wiped the sweat off his chest. She was afraid he’d feel the weight of her eyes but she couldn’t look away. It wasn’t just that Bren was in great shape, it was that he was the kindest man she’d ever met and that somehow he seemed interested in her, or at least tolerant of her. Such things made him far more attractive than a handsome face and body. Never in her life had she imagined she’d find such a combination in a man.

  “Brendan, are ye close to being finished for the day? Neala could use an escort home,” Dierdre asked.

  “I am. I was just getting’ some of tomorrow’s work done while I waited for a few people to pick up their armor,” he said.

  Dierdre dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to Bren. “Perfect. I’ll stay and wait for yer patrons and ye can escort Neala home,” she said.

  Giving her a stern look, Bren shook his head. “I’m not leavin’ ye without a horse,” he said.

  She waved a hand at him. “Nonsense, I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Bren wrapped the horse’s reins around the hitching post in front of the shop. “Of course ye will because ye’ll have yer horse. I can walk. The exercise will do me good. O’Doul should be by to pick up his shoulder plate. Promise me ye’ll have him ride with ye,” he said.

  The way he looked after his ma was so charming that Neala couldn’t help but smile. Of all the boys in her villa
ge, she was fairly certain none of them would put their ma first like this. Unless of course Bren just didn’t want to take her. Her smile wilted ever so slightly.

  Dierdre rolled her eyes as she stepped into the shade of the shop. “All right. Sometimes I swear ye forget which of us is the parent.”

  The look he gave her was stern but the kiss he placed on her cheek was gentle and affectionate. He doused the cloth he held in a bucket of water and washed the sweat from his body. Not bothering to dry off, he pulled a jerkin on, grabbed a small package wrapped in cloth, then approached Dubh.

  “Does he mind two riders?” he asked.

  The idea of Bren riding so close behind her stirred Neala’s power and made her heart pump faster. She did her best to look relaxed on the outside.

  “He won’t even notice,” she said.

  Bren pulled something from his pocket and held it up to Dubh’s nose. It looked like a sweet treat of some kind. The stallion’s nostrils flared as he drew in the scent, then his lips snatched it up. He was still chewing when he pushed his nose at Bren again, doing his best to get at his pockets. Laughing, Bren scratched his neck and stepped out of his reach. In an effort to give Bren as much room as possible to mount, Neala scooted forward almost onto Dubh’s neck. Hands on Dubh’s back, Bren jumped and landed with his chest across the horse. A moment later he swung his leg over and scooted up against Neala’s back.

  “Ye both be careful, and Bren, be home before dark,” Dierdre warned.

  “Yes ma,” Bren said in a tone that made Neala think he was probably smiling.

  It was hard to focus with his legs burning against hers and his hard chest pressed up against her back. He felt even more amazing than he looked. That thought made her want to die of embarrassment.

  She reined Dubh around and got back on the road. They called out goodbyes over the clip clop of Dubh’s hooves against the hard-packed dirt. Neala was glad her back was to Dierdre so she couldn’t see the look on her face. It was not a look a ma should see.