The Prophecy (Kingdom of Uisneach Book 1)

by Heidi Hanley

  She recalled the crow perched in the window of her cell. Why the hell didn’t he shapeshift and get me out?

  “May I have a look at your map?” Sigel asked, waving at the parchment on the ground. She must’ve dropped it when she drifted off. He pointed to a place marked Tynan Ibor. “Cailleach lives there. We’ll stay with her a few days. She can teach you about the prophecy and the history of Uisneach. I warn you, they call it the dark forest for a reason. We’ll have to move quietly and stay hidden as much as possible. Ready?”

  She nodded eagerly, catching the satchel he threw her.

  The path took them up and over ridges, down and around boulder piles, across a stream, straight up and through a minor mountain pass, then flat along some old-growth forest.

  She and Sigel chatted easily as they journeyed. Quick-witted and thoughtful, Sigel helped her see Uisneach through his eyes, a homeland he’d die to protect. She learned he was older than Brath by eight years, an age gap that hadn’t prevented the brotherhood that grew between them.

  “I watched over him when he was in his nappies. As he grew older, we became inseparable, more like brothers. He is truly my brother and best friend.”

  Briana wanted to learn about Brath, but found her attention wandering, nevertheless.

  “Forgive my interruption, Sigel, but there’s something that’s been weighing on my mind.”

  “Yes, milady?”

  “My mother must be frantic, thinking I was kidnapped or worse. Is there any way we can contact her? I mean, you have magic here. Even some of the animals are magical.”

  He nodded. “Cailleach is a skilled witch. I think she’ll be able to help.” He smiled reassuringly. “Everything has happened just as the prophecy predicted, so that makes me believe it’s real. You’re meant to be here. I can’t believe the Maker would cause your mother to suffer in order for us to benefit.”

  “Thank you, Sigel,” she said, softly.

  More dried meat and bread for supper, with a handful of nuts Briana found along the way. They shared watch that night by another well-protected fire. She was proud of herself when dawn broke and she was still awake and alert.

  He stretched and yawned. “Well done, little warrior.” She handed him a chunk of bread and apple. “I’m impressed. Were you accustomed to living outdoors where you came from?”

  She shook her head, finishing the bite in her mouth before answering. “I’ve done some camping, not a lot. But I’m a horticulturist, a person who learns a lot about plants, so I have an idea of what things might grow wild.” She explained her work as a landscaper.

  “Ah.” He grinned. “There just happens to be a garden too long untended at a castle that’s gone way too long without a king or queen. Shall we continue on our adventure, little warrior-queen?”

  “Let’s do this,” she said, with a small salute, and helped him break camp.

  It was nearly mid-day, under a filmy sun, when a large flock of crows flew noisily overhead. Moments later, goose-like birds covered the sky, and minutes after that, a small herd of deer raced by. Sigel frowned as he scanned quickly around them. He put his finger to his lips, then directed her behind a large blowdown of pines. “Do you hear that?”

  She didn’t hear anything at first, but when she closed her eyes and concentrated, she realized she heard chopping.

  “Let me see the map, please.”

  Briana pulled it out and handed it to him. He examined it for a few minutes, cocking his head every few seconds to listen, turning it in different directions as if that would somehow change things. More animals bolted past them, clearly startled by something happening to the west.

  “What is it, Sigel?”

  “I think we should take a little detour. Let’s be cautious. If my suspicion is right, then some of Lord Shamwa’s minions are about.”

  That meant danger. Now is the time to act like a proper warrior.

  They unsheathed their weapons and moved as silently as forest owls, following the sound. Critters scooted by, birds screeched overhead, and soon the buzzing became a little louder.

  At a fairly large brook at the bottom of a cascade, they had to choose whether to cross the river or climb up the hill to the ridgeline. Sigel asked for the map again. Human activity showed up in the area that seemed to be the source of the chopping noise, as expected.

  “What do you think it is?”

  “Probably a division of the Gray Military. Come on, we’ll hike up to the ridge. Just before we reach the top, we’ll stop and I’ll scout.” He started up, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Steep pitches necessitated the use of sturdy trees and bushes to give them a handhold as they climbed. She lost her footing in one particularly difficult spot, but Sigel was quick to grab her arm and pull her up. By the time they reached the crest, the sun was completely obscured by clouds and a gray fog rolled in, allowing them to see over the ridgeline without being seen.

  A group of about ten men dressed in blue-gray uniforms were gashing and hacking two faerie trees. Silvery bells and purplish leaves fell to the ground. No way could faeries live through this demolition.

  She was repulsed but couldn’t look away. Sigel touched her shoulder and indicated with a slight nod of his head that they should move back down.

  Back at the brook, Sigel filled his water bag. “Drink up, little warrior. We need to move fast and put as much distance between them and us as possible.”

  Briana kneeled down and cupped the cold water to her mouth, letting its pure, fresh taste slake her thirst. Sigel guarded her, scanning the forest for any signs of trouble.

  A thin veil of fog wafted through the forest, obscuring the sun and adding to the eerie sense of anticipation.

  “Is there anything we can do to stop them?” Briana asked, rubbing the shivery goosebumps from her arms.

  Sigel shook his head. “We’ve got to get our own army together to stop this. At the rate they’re moving, there won’t be a tree left on Uisneach in a year.”

  “When did they start?”

  “It was one of the first things Lord Shamwa initiated after he cursed the king. He wanted to eliminate any potential resurgence of magic. Come, we’ve got to pick up our pace and get as far away as we can.”

  They continued on, Briana matching his longer strides with some effort until they came to a small mist-enshrouded glade. She halted abruptly, seeing a group of gray humps with green mantles huddled together in the center of the open space.

  “Sigel?” she whispered. He seemed oblivious to the gathering.

  “What is it?”

  She nodded toward the gray mass. “Who are they?” she mouthed.

  He turned to see what she was looking at, and laughed out loud. Taking her hand, he brought her to the cluster and placed it on what turned out to be moss-covered stone.

  “Oh!” she breathed, putting her hand to her chest. “I thought they were people.”

  “Only their spirits,” he said. “This place is called ‘Druid’s Grove.’ Someone thought these stones looked like druids gathering for a ritual.”

  She nodded slowly. “I can see that.”

  Just when her heart rate returned to a normal rhythm, the forest exploded with loud screams and a blur of movement behind a stand of pines. They had barely enough time to unsheathe weapons and take a military stance before the Gray Military men fell upon them. She counted four, but it could have been more, as large bodies whirled around them in a frenzy. They tried to grab her. She jabbed and slashed with her dirk at everyone who came near her.

  “Cathachurra!” Sigel howled back at them, simultaneously swinging his arm, his sword flashing. One man fell cleanly dead at his feet. Another came at him from the side. He waved his shining silver blade and feinted backward. Moving around sharply, Sigel stabbed the man, missing vital organs, but creating a leg wound that promptly started gushing red. The man screamed and fell to the ground, helpless. A burly brute grabbed Sigel by the neck and pulled a short but lethal dagger out of his pant l
eg.

  Briana had no time to think. She threw her knife with all her might and miraculously hit the attacker’s shoulder. He released Sigel, who jerked away and whirled around behind him, sinking his own sword into the back of the man’s neck at the base of his skull, ending his life in an instant. Sigel retrieved Briana’s knife and threw it back to her. Stepping back, Briana lowered her weapon, but Sigel yelled at her. She turned to see a bull of a man with a round head, dark, angry eyes and a smashed bulbous nose, reaching for her. Before she could get her blade up, he seized her and held her roughly around the neck. She struggled, kicking him as hard as she could, but her efforts only made him laugh. One beefy arm came near her mouth. She bit down with all the strength she could muster. He howled in pain and for a split second, released her.

  Another man called out, “Get down!” She dropped to the ground. An arrow winged so close over her head that she felt the air move through her hair. The arrow buried itself into the forehead of the beastly man, dropping him, too.

  Then there was silence.

  She moved away from the motionless body behind her, staying low, looking for Sigel. He rose and turned his attention to the man with the leg wound. Quietly and firmly he commanded Briana, “Turn around and look toward the pine trees.”

  She did as instructed without question. A slicing sound followed by a brief gurgling made her stomach recoil. After taking a deep breath, she turned around and saw that the man breathed no more.

  “No reason to let him suffer,” was all Sigel said. He pulled the arrow out of the head of the bulldog man, inspected the fletching and then said, “Silas, man, where are you?”

  The most beautiful man she’d ever seen walked out of the mist, through the pines, slinging a quiver behind him as he moved around the stone druids and into the circle of carnage. Breath left her body. His knee-high leather boots made no sound as he strode with catlike grace toward Sigel. The kilt belted at his hips, a plaid of gray, rose, and brown, swung gracefully with each step. When the two came together in a hearty hug and some virile back slapping, she noticed he stood several inches taller than Sigel, and was more slender. A chill snaked up her spine. There was something remotely familiar about him.

  “What took you so long?” asked Sigel.

  “I was held up at Moiria.”

  Sigel laughed. “I’ll bet you were. While you were at it, did you sign up any men?”

  “Oh, aye. They’ll be on their way to Dromdara whenever you give the word.” He spoke with the throaty, rounded syllables of the Irish, the words comforting to her ear.

  Civilities exchanged, they both turned to Briana. Sigel flourished in her direction. “Silas, this is the Mouse, or as she prefers to be called, Briana Brennan. Briana, may I introduce you to Silas of Cedarmara, our royal bard.”

  With courtly elegance, he bowed deeply to her. “And now, fully at your service, milady.” His smile, generous, warm and perhaps a little roguish, put her immediately at ease. She responded with a full smile of her own.

  “Please, Briana is fine,” she said, not sure if she should shake his hand, curtsy or just swoon. His hair revealed every color of blonde in the palette and hung carelessly below his shoulders. Feathery bangs swept across his forehead, edging darker eyebrows. Dark blue eyes, deep pools of soulfulness, drew her in as one is drawn into a good story. Downward curving eyelids made him look a little sad, in spite of his warm smile. A hawkish nose guarded perfectly bow-shaped lips and slightly crooked front teeth. Underneath the light stubble of his beard, she noted a small dimple on his chin. Old soul, she decided, old, drop-dead gorgeous soul. She realized she might be staring like a schoolgirl with her first crush and was relieved when Sigel interrupted.

  “How did you know where we were?”

  “Followed the crow. He’s been all over Uisneach.”

  “You can talk to him?” Briana was fascinated.

  “Of course, when he’s in human form,” he replied, studying her as intently as she’d been watching him.

  “That’s so cool.”

  Silas looked puzzled. Sigel said, “She means something interesting or fun.”

  “Oh,” Silas said, his beautiful lips forming a perfect circle with the word. “We should be goin’. There are more Grays not too far behind us. I suppose they can tend to their comrades.”

  Sigel nodded while Briana inhaled the lilting music of Silas’s voice. To Silas he said, “I assume you’re coming with us?”

  Silas glanced at Briana and produced that enigmatic smile as he said, “Of course I am.”

  Chivalry is alive and well in Uisneach, she thought, as he held out his hand to help her over the log.

  Hands touched… eyes connected… a flash… the world tilted. Two bright flames came together in one single explosion of light energy, an awakening of something ancient and eternal.

  Her core shuddered when she saw the same soul recognition in his eyes. Destiny had just taken an unexpected detour on this journey.

  Chapter Nine

  A Wee Endearment

  Briana felt a stab of guilt as she looked around at the bodies they were leaving behind. But the stab turned into a gut punch when she turned back around and saw Silas’ backside as he assumed the lead in their small group. An image exploded in her mind of a blonde-haired archer walking away from her on a battlefield. Her knees wobbled as the air whooshed out of her lungs.

  “Milady,” Silas asked, seeing her struggle to regain composure. “What’s wrong?”

  Sigel put his hands on her shoulders to brace her. “It’s the shock of what just happened. Let’s find you a place to sit and catch your breath.”

  She couldn’t speak, could only stare at Silas in stunned awareness of why he seemed familiar to her. The faceless man had a face… and it was beautiful. Silas… she whispered in her heart, the name sounding like the answer to a prayer.

  “You’re him,” she whispered.

  “He’s who?” asked Sigel.

  She met Silas’s eyes and saw a calm acknowledgment and something akin to satisfaction in the blue depths.

  “He’s who?” Sigel repeated, more brusquely.

  She shivered and forced herself to look away from Silas. “It’s nothing,” she lied. This was a revelation meant only for herself and the bard. “You’re probably right, Sigel, just a little delayed shock. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

  After a searching look, Silas nodded and moved ahead of her again. Sigel took his post behind her, and they headed down the path.

  Silence and stealth provided an opportunity for her to sort out the mish mash of emotions tumbling around inside her. The bard glanced behind with a tender smile, almost as though he knew what she was thinking.

  They made their way quietly through the woods, staying a bit off the main path and out of sight. The men exchanged lead positions now and then, always keeping her between them. She compared the way the two men moved through the woods. Sigel, a fairly large man, didn’t exactly bulldoze, though he wasn’t afraid of whacking down a limb or vine, either. Silas, on the other hand, leapt from stones to logs to the ground with catlike grace on those long, lean legs. The earthy colors of his kilt camouflaged him so that he became almost one with the forest. He frequently found opportunity to take her hand and help her, which she might have resisted from anyone else, but which she readily accepted from him.

  Reluctant to show any sign of fatigue, she pushed herself, so they wouldn’t have to. When Silas told Sigel he knew of a secure spot near a brook to camp for the night, she offered a prayer of gratitude to Maker. She didn’t think there were too many steps left in her.

  Their camp was a beautiful, high place on a hill, with good views all around. Stands of trees provided shelter and cover. A small, clear stream trickled by.

  Briana began digging a hole for the fire.

  “I can do that,” Silas offered.

  “Thanks, but I’d like to practice what Sigel taught me.”

  “Then I’ll do a perimeter check,” he said, and hea
ded through the pines. Sigel stayed close. She finished her fire preparations efficiently and set up her tent while Sigel riffled through his pack.

  “I’d forgotten I had this,” he said, holding up a bundle of herbs. “Tea would be nice tonight and won’t put off too much scent.”

  She joined him by the fire when the water started boiling.

  “Och!”

  She looked back. Silas had bumped into her tent, which was practically indiscernible, pitched against some pines.

  “Sorry, Silas. I didn’t hear you come up, or I would’ve warned you sooner.”

  “What in Maker’s good earth is that? Me legs been banjaxed for sure.”

  “Her sleeping tent,” Sigel said. “She’s got some magic, Silas. Better watch yourself.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He rubbed his shin. “How’s it work?”

  “I don’t know how it works, exactly,” Briana said, entering the tent and leaving her voice to float over the encampment. “It’s gnome magic.”

  “That’s… cool,” said Silas. “On second thought, I’m not so sure I like it,” he said, scratching his head. “It’s rather creepy. Come on out of there, Briana.”

  She emerged, laughing. “You must admit, Silas, it has its advantages.”

  “For instance?”

  “For instance, I can see what’s going on outside the tent, but no one can see in. They don’t even know I’m there.”

  “Unless, of course the poor lad falls into the tent on top of you.”

  “Well, there is that possibility,” she admitted. “But at least I’d be ready for him.”

  They shared a sheepish glance as she handed him a cup of tea.

  He traded her the cup of tea for a wrapped bundle.

  “What’s this?” she asked, as she unwrapped it, uncovering a generous chunk of cheese. “Outstanding!”

  “There’s more,” he said, handing her a second package. “Mrs. McPhee was determined to fill me pack.”

  What she discovered was a meat-filled pie. No one would go to sleep hungry tonight.

  “I’ve never appreciated food as much as I do here,” she told her companions, breaking the cheese into three sections.