Hidden Magic: An Ancient Magic Novel

by Stephany Wallace

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  TRADEMARKS

  GLOSSARY

  CHAPTER 1. HELPLESS

  CHAPTER 2. GINGER

  CHAPTER 3. HAUNTED

  CHAPTER 4. GODDESS

  CHAPTER 5. AWAKENED

  CHAPTER 6. CRAZY

  CHAPTER 7. CAPTIVATED

  CHAPTER 8. INNOCENT

  CHAPTER 9. HOPEFUL

  CHAPTER 10. MAGICAL

  CHAPTER 11. UNGUARDED

  CHAPTER 12. ENTICING

  CHAPTER 13. ANEW

  CHAPTER 14. IN LOVE

  CHAPTER 15. GRANDPA

  CHAPTER 16. DRUIDS

  CHAPTER 17. DISTRESSED

  CHAPTER 18. CAPTIVE

  CHAPTER 19. ANGUISHED

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RECOMMENDED READS

  I woke with a start before the screams began. My heart raced and my spine prickled, alerting me that something was wrong. I knew without a shadow of a doubt what was happening. The Romans had come for us. In one fluid movement, I slid from my hay bed and hurried to the door. My eyes stung and my lungs protested in response to the smoke the moment I stepped outside. Then, the screams came. Closing my eyes to slits to adjust my vision, I crouched against the stone wall behind me. Assessing the situation did not take long. They had attacked while we slept. The six warriors I had left to guard the village’s outskirts were dead. The Romans were dragging the men, women and children out of their huts, killing them and torching the hay roofs. The pounding of my heart increased, the horror my eyes perceived could not be real.

  “No! Please no!”

  My head whipped towards the source of the shrill scream. Three Roman soldiers were attacking the family of the village’s craftsman, Druce. While he tried to fight them off, his wife Alena struggled against her captor’s hold. She kicked and bucked. Her hands stretched as she tried to reach for her youngest daughter, Biar, who was being dragged out of the hut by her hair. Her two remaining daughters held each other a few feet away. Attempting to find comfort from the horror they were witnessing. Their once white nightgowns were soiled, from being dragged on the ground.

  A mixture of pain, and anger shot through me, creating a raging storm. Time slowed to a crawl as I called on my enhanced strength. Taking a deep breath, I rose to my full height and recited a spell I had often used in training, but prayed never to truly need.

  “From my essence to yours, I beg for your protection. Fast as lightning and light as the wind I’ll be. Bring my bogha-saighde to me.”

  Before I uttered that last word, a surge of energy hit me, coursing through me with the force of a stag. I welcomed the familiar rush of the magic awakening. My chest shuddered as a thunderous battle cry erupted from me and I began running full force towards the hut across from mine. While the tingling traveled over my skin, I reached for my back with both hands. My bow and arrow instantly materialized under my grasp as I arrived at their hut. I jumped lifting my right hand. I swung my arm to bring the bow down with all my strength hitting the closest soldier on the head, and freeing Biar. The cracking sound of his skull reverberated through the air. Before his body hit the ground, I turned and landed on my knee shooting an arrow at the soldier previously behind me. Within a fraction of a second, my arrow found its mark. I watched his shocked expression as Alena ran to her daughters and the sword slipped from his grasp. The third soldier, the one Druce had been fighting came for me. I felt his arm around my throat and without time to waste I brought my chest down forcing him to bend his body. With my bow in hand and curved inward, I thrust its sharp edge back over my right side piercing the soldier between the ribs. His arm immediately released me as he held his side screaming in pain. I turned on my knee watching him stagger back, and released an arrow straight into his chest to end his suffering. The soldiers were dead, however, cries came from behind me. The cries that told me I had been too late.

  Druce, lay lifeless on the grass while his wife and his three girls sobbed at his side. Ignoring the growing chaos around us, I rushed to them and grabbed their arms bringing them up.

  “I am deeply sorry Alena. He is gone,” I said looking into his grieving wife’s eyes. The anguish dimming her essence added to mine.

  “I shall pray so his soul will live on. I need you to run to the beach as we practiced. You hear me? Take the girls and run as fast as you can, do not look back. I will look for you there. Now run!”

  As they took off, I looked at the dead soldiers at my feet and lifting my glowing hands.

  “A athnuachan agus beo ar”—be renewed and live on.

  From the corner of my eye I caught Art, kicking a soldier on the chest and finishing him off with the swift strike of his double swords. He ran towards Eisha to aid her in her fight. She seemed surrounded. We exchanged a nod as I ran to the next group of Roman soldiers. We fought and strived to survive. I could see my brother and sister warriors giving everything to defend our people. Some were successful moving on to the next attacker, but some lay unmoving on the red stained grass. There were so many soldiers. Too many.

  Searing pain coursed through me at the sight of my dead Druid family. I had to do more. I stopped abruptly and looked at the trees around us.

  “Dúisigh”—Awaken.

  The magic once more coursed through me, my hands beginning to glow as the elemental connection grew. My vision adopted the particular green hue, indicating my irises were now glowing.

  “From my essence to yours, I beg for your protection. From the earth they were born and to the earth they shall return… Please, please help me.”

  I lifted my hands just as the roots from the trees shot up from the ground and reached for the soldiers closest to them. With the roots following my guidance, I closed my fists and watched them wrap around the Romans, pulling them down to the earth and tightening their hold until they ceased to struggle.

  “Thank you,” my vision returned to normal. The elemental connection receding while I took in the lifeless Roman bodies by the trees. I would have to release their essence later. I reached behind me and pulled three arrows from my quiver, bringing them to my mouth and whispering to them,

  “Fly to your destiny, we will meet again,” placing them on the bow and holding them tight, I pulled my arm back building the tension. I closed my eyes to focus. Blocked the screams around me, and released a slow breath letting them fly.

  When I opened my eyes, the three soldiers that stood about twenty paces away, fell to the ground freeing another family. This time everyone was safe. I motioned for them to run and watched the mother scoop the youngest child into her arms. The Father took the hands of the other two boys and they took off towards the beach at the back of the island. A small sack with a few belongings, and the clothes on their backs was all that remained of their stay here. Every time we fled, we seemed to lose another part of ourselves. When we arrived here seeking shelter, we had brought with us the most meaningful things from our life in the mother village, believing that we could actually live the remainder of our lives on this island. Safe. I had instructed everyone to pack a leather sack and have it by the door in case danger found us, and it did. The rest, melted away with the smoldering fire. The prickling on my spine returned and the sound of feet pounding the ground reached me. I swiftly crouched down as the soldier coming at me from behind swung his sword. It sliced the air above me, and I used it to my advantage. Before he had a chance to pull back, I called on my strength and reached for his torso. Using his momentum, I stood and lifted him over my head, slamming him to the ground. His body connected harshly with the earth. I placed my hand on his chest a
s he struggled for breath. His ribs were broken, piercing his heart. I saw the life dim in his eyes, taking the pain away. I called on the magic once again.

  “From my essence to yours, I beg for your protection. Allow his soul to be freed and cleansed, so it can start again.”

  As the energy flowed through me, light illuminated my hand transferring to him.

  “A athnuachan agus beo ar”—Be renewed and live on.

  His essence was set free on to the earth, for purifying and rebirth.

  *

  “Cyn brother, over here!”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying to erase the massacre that lay before me. We had left Ireland when the Romans began to come after us. Demanding what was not theirs to demand, punishing with law that was not theirs to use. Craving power they had no true knowledge of and would not be able to handle. Power they were not worthy of. We had sought shelter and made our village on Môn Island. They had still found us. So many had perished, entire families lost. Innocent people… My people.

  They would not see the rise of the sun again, or the land bathed in its majestic light. They would not close their eyes and thank the sea for its benevolent presence. There would be no song to the new day or prayers to reap the harvest. Their souls would now enter the Blessed Isles, and await the moment in which they shall be born again. Although I knew they were not truly gone, the loss of their presence here weighed heavily on my heart.

  My soul had acquired scars that would never heal. The pain endured tonight was permanently etched on me, the faces engraved in my mind. But there was no time for lamenting. We had managed to overtake the soldiers, for now. More would surely come, and we needed to protect the ones that were still alive. We needed to say our final blessing to our fallen Druid family and leave. I wiped my carved oak bow clean with the bottom of my shirt. I placed it in the quiver on my back, feeling the weight immediately dissipate as it returned to its essence. Releasing a weighted breath, I lifted my forearm to my face and wiped away the beads of sweat that made the strands of my hair adhere to my skin. I tugged at the leather string in the front of my shirt and pulling my hair back I tied it.

  “Cyn!”

  The call came again. I turned towards the voice. Art and Eisha were near the other side of the village. His arm holding her back for support as they walked. She was injured, but they were alive. Relief washed over me like a slow wave. I watched him aid her as I began to jog their way. Her tall, slender form was slightly crouched as she favored her left side. My eyes swept over her body searching for other injuries, nothing else was visible. Her long Onyx-black hair fell over her face obscuring it from my view. However, I recognized the truth in her stance. She was in great pain.

  Eisha was strong and fierce in spirit and mind. The mere act of accepting assistance from Art, spoke greatly of her weakened state. I focused on my brother Art. My gaze went to what I could perceive of his tall frame, trying to assess if he was hurt in any way. Our build was much the same. Our muscles strong and tough, from helping work the land and training as warriors every day since I was able to remember. Yet the resemblance ended there. He had brown hair like the earth beneath my feet, and while his fell some over his shoulders mine merely brushed my neck, and shined like the golden rays of the sun. His eyes a crystal clear powder-gray, when mine where a dark emerald green. His skin tanned and golden, in contrast to mine, which was light, and pale. I took after our Father, while Art bared a strong resemblance to our mother.

  We were opposites to the light of the eye, yet he was my true brother in every way and he was well. I needed them both to be well. Art and Eisha were my two best warriors and friends. I knew their faces, strengths and weaknesses as if they were my own. We had seen many things together, grown up and learned innumerous lessons. We had trained and become warriors as one, and tonight we had acquired yet another experience tying our paths. One we would never forget.

  They walked guardedly as he guided her to sit down outside the Àrd-shagart’s hut.

  The High Priest! Fear coursed through me as I began running the rest of the way. We could not bear to lose him, not our spiritual Father and leader. I promptly regretted not going to him when the attack began. I was the Laochra ceannaire—Warrior leader. As such, his life was on my hands. It was my place to guard him, protect him… If he was dead, I would be to blame.

  “Where is he? Where is the Àrd-shagart?” I yelled, my heart pounding as I approached the hut. I slowed my pace once I got near it. A familiar feeling of energy running over my skin reached me. I relaxed instantly feeling the priest’s essence connecting with mine. If he had died, I would nothave been able to feel him—As a Druid, one of a select few able to influence and harness elemental magic, feeling and connecting with nature’s essence or soul was as easy as breathing. I had been doing it since before I could walk. As opposed to the other chosen, who studied and practiced the ways of the elemental power that pulsates around us in order to be able to connect with it and influence it. This process of learning and acceptance commonly lasted several years. In my case however, I could bond and control the elements without giving it a single thought. Nonetheless, mastering this magic came with a need of great understanding and respect for the value of life in all existences. And the simple principle that everyone and everything around us had an essence and a right to be. It also demanded our protection of the same. For a cause unknown to me, or the High Priest, I could also feel people’s essence and connect with them. Each felt different. They were as unique as the lines on someone’s palm. Some were cold as the snow of Winter Solstice, or hot as the roaring Fires of Bealteinne. Others electrifying like pure lighting, or vibrant and exciting like the rushing water of the river. Not the Àrd-shagart’s energy. His was warm like the morning sun on your skin, and gentle like the breeze of the Summer Solstice. Simply being in his presence could soothe my soul. I stared Art down, still expecting him to answer. The rhythm of my heart remained fierce, as new scenarios ran through my mind. We still needed to find a way to survive.

  Lifting his gaze from Eisha’s injury he regarded me. “He is well brother. You need not worry. He is inside performing healings.”

  I nodded, my eyes shifted to Eisha, her head was low while she held her left side. Blood seeped through her fingers and my brows arched in worry.

  “Why is she out here and not inside being healed?” I demanded a little too harshly, and stepped closer. Concern for her overtaking me. Before Art could answer, she lifted her head and the look in her ice blue eyes sent an eerie feeling down my spine. I crouched in front of her, my eyes moving from her to my brother. He regarded me with a grim expression, yet he remained silent. I placed my hands on hers to pull them away from the wound and assess the damage. Her right hand reached for mine and held tightly. When our eyes met once more, hers welled with tears.

  “What is it Eisha? Please speak,” I said.

  “Gildas…” she whispered, trailing off as her throat constricted.

  For a second I regarded her puzzled, until I saw a tear graze her cheek. In the years I had known her, I had only seen her cry once before. The day her mother passed on. Understanding hit me with the vigor of the sea and I closed my eyes letting out a slow steading breath. Gildas was the oldest son of the High Priest, and destined to lead us when the time came for his Father to return to the earth.

  I reached for her cheek, gently wiping her tear away with my thumb. Her lips trembled and she took a deep breath. The pain in her eyes was devastating. I could feel it as strongly, as though it was my own.

  “Find peace a chara—My dear friend. Your pain is mine today and always,” I whispered. She closed her eyes and tried to draw strength from my words, placing her hand over the one I had rested on her cheek and held tight. I took a deep breath and gazed at my brother.

  “Does the Árd-shagart know?” I asked, wondering if anyone had taken a moment to inform him of his oldest son’s fate. Suddenly concern took hold of me.

  “Leigh! Where is he
?” my brother spoke before Eisha could gather herself enough to respond. The pain she was feeling went far deeper than her wound or a lost druid brother. Gildas had been her beloved.

  “He is well. He suffered an injury but nothing of consequence. He was besides Gildas when he fell. Phelan saved him from the Romans, although he was not able to save Gildas. Leigh announced the loss of his brother and went to the beach with three others to gather the survivors and prepare the boats.”

  I nodded as the sting of loss left another scar inside me. Then I allowed myself to feel relief. The other son of the Àrd-shagart was safe. He had survived. One day he would be our leader, following the teachings of the order of the Druids and guide us in light and peace.

  “I must heal you now,” I spoke softly and Eisha’s eyes opened. She shook her head slowly.

  “I am well; you need not worry. There are others with worse injuries than mine. I can wait until you and the High Priest are finished. Go inside as you wish. He requires your presence. Do not concern yourself over me, I am strong.”

  She shrugged with confidence as if her wound was nothing more than a scrape. Her face immediately betraying her as she winced from the pain the movement had elicited.

  “She kept fighting even after she was injured,” Art said. “Took down two other soldiers, before she collapsed,” he paused. His eyes focused on her. “I am thankful I was near and able to take on her last attacker,” when his gaze returned to mine, his look spoke the words he had not. It had been close.

  “I am a warrior,” she answered simply. But her clouded ice blue eyes, reflected the intensity of her pain.

  “I must heal you Eisha, you are not well. Your essence is weakening. I can feel it. You will allow me,” my voice was soft yet unyielding. I would not risk her life, there was only so much magic could do. Some conditions could not be healed. Finally, she nodded slowly in agreement. When I pulled her hand from her side, it revealed a deep gash made by the broad side of a Roman sword. The edges of her skin were singed as if the iron had been placed in the fire before it sliced her skin. Yet the incision was deep and the blood could not be stopped. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I placed my hands over her wound, and smiled reassuringly while looking into her eyes. Instantly, the light illuminated my hands and transferred to her.