Moira's Song (The Moira McCauley Series Book 1)

by Lee, Tawnya

  Paul walked through the passageway, passing an empty basin in the recess of a chamber. He put his hand above the basin and muttered “Oscailte.”27 The same mist rose over the basin and the back wall began to shimmer and disappear. Paul stepped through the wall and entered a great chamber. The wall shimmered again and reappeared behind him. Paul found himself standing before the other Tribunal members.

  “Paul, it’s good to see you,” Medb, the Tribunal Brehon, gripped his right elbow.

  They clasped hands, Paul placing his left hand on top of hers. She had silver hair and pale blue eyes. Even before turning, Medb had fair, pale skin. Now, the skin was like porcelain, pale and clear. Her face was only slightly lined at the eyes, and the blue of her veins prominent on both her neck and hands.

  “And you, too, Medb.”

  “Richard.”

  Paul nodded at Richard, the Taoiseach, or chieftain of the Tribunal. The Tribunal served as leaders of the Celtic blood-fae world, a holdover from the Iron Age Celts that once ruled Eire.28 Brehons of days gone by were the adjudicators, serving to keep the peace in a war-like society. They settled disputes and served judgments based on the value of each man and woman’s place in society. The File class were highly regarded as well. They were the poets, the historians, and served as counselors to the chieftains. Over the centuries, this system of law and rule was systematically disassembled by the invading Brits, but echoes of the past remained for the Na Fuilteacha. They clung to their human past as the world around them faded.

  “You have word for us,” Richard said. His jaw was set. His hair was slicked into a gray pompadour. Richard’s face was large, round, and pale. Despite the paleness of his skin, broken capillaries betrayed a human life of excess and glutton.

  “Yes,” said Paul.

  He looked at Medb and Richard.

  “Well, get on with it,” said Richard. “Don’t just stand there like an idjit.”

  Paul’s jaw imperceptibly clenched and he looked Richard in the eye.

  “You may have heard stories of Breasal, the ancient fae. One of our mother’s first. He has been consumed by a quest to find the one he claims the witch Anna foretold. The one who would bring together both the witch and the Na Fuilteacha, who would save the blood-drinkers from destruction. I’ve been watching him for many years, hundreds even. But over the last few decades, his focus has been on one human.”

  “This girl, Moira, has been curious to watch. Over the years, she demonstrated rather dangerous propensities of death and destruction, all without being fully aware she was the one creating the chaos she ran from.”

  Richard interrupted. “Yes, yes. This is old news. Paul, get to the point. You’re winding on like a halfpenny book stuck in a pig’s arse.”

  Paul didn’t respond to the Taoiseach’s admonishment and continued with his story.

  “This girl gave birth just over two years ago. Breasal has continued his watch of her. We all know this; however, a few days ago, Breasal turned Moira. She is now one of our kind. Breasal has breached the law of motherhood. This is interesting in and of itself. In normal times, I would say we should order her to forsake her children or suffer the consequences of breaking Brehon law.”

  “As it should be,” said Richard.

  “I don’t agree,” said Paul.

  “And who says it’s up to you to be a changing our laws, Paul? As a Tribunal, we have sworn to uphold the laws of our kind and bring judgment upon those who break those laws. Long ago, before any of us joined the Tribunal, the law of motherhood was decreed, and with good reason. There is no place for a blood-drinker to raise a family. Wouldn’t that be the ruin of us all?” Richard said, pointing his finger into Paul’s chest. Richard’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed with anger.

  Paul narrowed his eyes and with one finger, pushed Richard away from him. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and resumed, his voice calm, emotionless.

  “I’ve been to the seer of Doghreda. She warned of taking action against the blood-fae witch's children, that it would be death to all who tried. I believe, with all respect, that if we attempt to force her to abandon her sons, it will thwart our cause. We will lose grip of the rebellion, and perhaps lose our lives. I’ve given this much thought over the last few days even before speaking with Agnes. I strongly caution you both to give pause and consider what the most strategic move would be.”

  “This is preposterous. There is absolutely no way we can retain hold over the Tribnunal and allow her to keep her children. We will lose authority in the sight of all blood-drinkers. With our authority weakened, we will not be able to stay the rebellion. Chaos would consume society, and it would mean the largest battle between our kind and humanity seen to date. We have to enforce order and law.”

  Medb watched both Paul and Richard. She placed her hand on Paul’s upper arm.

  “I agree with Richard. We must retain order. However, I propose for the peace of the Tribunal we give ourselves time to review the matter and vote in six days. Perhaps in that time, a way will be made clear that will not only allow us to uphold the law to which we’ve all sworn our allegiance but also to reach out to Moira in wisdom, and bring her to understand our ways.”

  “I’m ok with this,” said Paul.

  “As am I,” said Richard.

  “Good, it’s settled. Now, let’s find out more about Moira over the next few days. Knowledge is power,” said Medb.

  Medb turned and walked toward her private chamber. Paul and Richard nodded to each other and walked opposite ways.

  Once in his room, Richard paced the marble walkway between his bed and the cavernous bath quarters. After a disastrous excavation in the 19th century, much of the tomb’s inner passages had been destroyed. Decades ago, the passageways were closed to the public. At that time, the Tribunal decided Dowth would make a perfect place to hide. Richard, capable of coercing men to his will telepathically, had an elaborate underground water system built that pulled water from the River Boyne. He made sure he was furnished with the best immortality could afford him. He remodeled his own chamber, made more comfortable than the original stone passageways. Once the workers were done, he wiped their memories of the build clear.

  He enjoyed his heated tub and often soaked for hours as he contemplated the day’s affairs. He turned the faucet on full blast. Steam began filling the room; the mirrors fogged. Richard undressed himself and lowered into the tub. He rested his head on the back wall of the tub. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander to Paul. It aggravated him that Paul refused to cower when Richard boomed his orders. Richard only vaguely tolerated Paul’s presence on the Tribunal. At one time, he believed Paul would be weak and more suggestible. He thought he would retain iron-clad control over all rulings. Richard lived in a world of order prior to his turning. He had been a chieftain, and as such respected hierarchy and authoritarian control. Rules and protocol gave Richard a sense of security and purpose. He thrived knowing what was and wasn’t expected of him. Trim hair, clean clothes, and meticulous living spaces thrilled Richard as a mortal. His personality was both gregarious and demanding. He made instant decisions on people’s moral character, their honesty, their worth. He believed he was always right.

  It had pained him to turn, to lose his mortal position, and in many ways start his climb to power anew. Yet he did it. And now he was Taoiseach of the Tribunal. The head of all blood-drinkers. A bloody vampire, lording over all other vampires. He loved the power, but he also took the trust given him seriously. He felt responsible for the safety of his kind and wanted to do the utmost best for all he served. However, he often refused to listen to the wise counsel surrounding him, believing his ways and methods to be the only correct ways and methods.

  It was during the execution of a particularly nasty blood-drinker that he realized he and Paul clashed. It was hundreds of years ago, during the feast of Beltane. Across the country, mortals lit their fires and walked their cattle between the bonfires. It marked the beginning of summer, and one blood-d
rinker revealed himself to a large crowd of party goers, drinking the blood of victim after victim. It took several deaths for most to realize the theatrics were not part of the planned celebrations. The masses became an entangled throng, trampling dozens to their death. This blood-drinker had broken the law of excess and the law of secrecy. They must never show their true nature to large crowds of people, and always they must feast in secret. Excessive displays of blood-thirst could disrupt the safety of their kind. For hundreds of years before Richard’s reign in the Tribunal, it had been decreed that such acts were worthy of death. Also, any blood-drinkers witnessing the event, but not stopping or thwarting said vices were also guilty and could receive the same death sentence.

  Richard immediately called for the death of the blood-drinker and four others who were present at the massacre, but Paul called for a delay in the decision of the four who witnessed the proceedings. He wanted caution, urging Richard that those who had not participated may have had good reason for not stopping the rogue blood-drinker, and asked for leniency. They battled over the issue for several weeks. The more Paul pushed, the more Richard dug in his heels and resisted. Eventually, the two came to a truce and gave the four witnesses their own trial, apart from the murderous duine fuilteach.29 Richard never forgave Paul for questioning his authority. Swift, decisive action was the only way. Paul was much too cautious and thoughtful for Richard’s tastes. From that point forward, Richard bullied Paul, believing he was doing the right thing for the Tribunal and Na Fuilteacha.

  These thoughts floated through Richard’s mind when he realized he was no longer alone in the room. He opened his eyes, body taut, breath still. Before him stood Medb, her long white robes giving her an even deeper pallor. Her skin stood in stark contrast to her lips. They were bright red, throbbing, and full. A single droplet of blood rolled down her chin as she smiled. Her long silver hair cascaded down her bare shoulders.

  “You’ve been feeding I see,” Richard said.

  “Yes. Quite tasty man in town now a bit weaker, fatigued. He will believe tomorrow he has a hangover, and perhaps a nasty bruise from stumbling over some rocks on his way home.”

  Medb smiled with only her lips. Her eyes were like pools of water, still yet giving one the sense that something lurked below. Richard was suspicious of Medb, but she was also his ally. She had never given him reason to doubt her. He felt cautious just the same. Sometimes Medb appeared a little too reserved, too calm, too reasoned. She never would come right out with her own opinion, but seemed to take time to judge which direction the wind blew before casting her lots.

  “Well out with it. You’re not here to watch me bathe. What is it you want?” Richard was not known for diplomacy.

  “I want to hear more of your thoughts on Moira. Do you think she could help our cause? What would be the harm in allowing her to keep her paisti? Or do you suppose we should simply destroy her at the start? If she is what Breasal searched for, if she is both Banba witch and baobahn sidhe, she will be very dangerous. And valuable, not just to us but to the rebellion.”

  “Even if she is all Breasal believes, she is only days old for our kind. It can take centuries to build the kind of strength that would truly pose a challenge to us. If we left her unchallenged, over time she could be a threat. But now, she is a nuisance. We have to neutralize the biggest threat here: threat to law and order.”

  “And if we let her keep her children? Will all of society really fall apart?”

  “My dear Medb. Society, our kind, will never fall apart in mere days. But if we allow her to remain and attempt to raise her children? It’s impractical. We will have lost respect of those who must obey our edicts. And suppose the next time we attempt to enforce law? We may find ourselves fighting two rebellions: anarchy and civil unrest. We can’t fight two monsters at one time. Best to keep the one chained and behead the first.”

  Medb sat for a time staring at the bubbles floating around Richard’s knees. She touched the inside of his knee and slid her arm along his thigh into the water.

  “In that case, I believe the only course of action is to require the death of her children. Are we in agreement?” Medb asked.

  “Yes, Medb. I believe we are.”

  Medb then pulled her hand out and shook the water with three flicks of her hand. Patting her hand on her robe, she smiled and stood.

  Richard stirred beneath the water. He grabbed her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her deeply. They released the kiss, breathless. She walked to the door, turned back to Richard and smiled.

  “As always, thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, Taoiseach. I heed your words. You will have my vote in six days’ time, if you vote for the death of her younglings.”

  Richard watched her walk away, the swaying of her robes not lost to him.

  “Aye. If but for fifteen minutes.”

  Pleased that he would have his way regarding Moira the baobahn sidhe witch, Richard dunked his head backwards into the water,then stood up, water dripping from his hair and body. He shook his head, then wrapped himself in satin robes. Sensing the light’s dawn, he ducked into his room and shut the door.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Whole New World

  There has never been a shortage of mortals willing to become slave to immortal blood-drinkers. The naive vision of life everlasting has been too tantalizing for the corrupt and misguided to deny. When the lure of immortality wouldn’t bring loyalty, money would. And when one lived forever, the opportunity to gain riches was nearly unlimited.

  Breasal, having centuries to amass such wealth, was able to procure a team of highly-trained nannies for Moira easily. He secured a non-disclosure agreement from each of them to ensure secrecy. Once obtained, the trio of blood-drinkers set a date for travel to Scotland.

  “I’m after renting a home near Inverness, off Old Craigton Road. It’s large enough with six bedrooms, and two cellars. And we’ll spend our time in Tyrie, Aberdeenshire, as well, if things go to plan. I believe we should be as close to Tyrie as possible.”

  Moira frowned. “Why go to Scotland at all? Why not stay here?”

  “I know you aren’t too keen on leaving. I understand. Toting the boys around could get us in a bit of trouble. In most cases, I would agree. The more who are in on our secret, the less of a secret it is. But don’t I have my reasons to be a living near Tyrie for a bit? And won’t you learn in good time I’m right?”

  Moira tore daggers into Breasal with her eyes. She wasn’t ready for any playful teasing from the old fuilteach. Seara walked through the living room, holding a bundled Derek.

  “We won’t be informing anyone of where we are. And to be sure, I’ll be careful to shield our thoughts from anyone,” joined Seara. “However, we do need help from the Brodies, and spending time in Scotland will be paying off for us. Political reasons. They may have some sway on what the Tribunal decides, or at least on how soon they carry out their demands. We may very well need the help of the Clan Brodie. Tonight I will work with you to practice shielding. Breasal will hunt for us. You won’t have to be worrying about leaving the children until we have the nannies in service,” Seara said.

  Moira didn’t want to say it, but she was grateful someone would be hunting. She hadn’t yet had mortal blood since turning three days ago. Because Breasal and Seara were both powerful fuilteacha, their own blood had sustained her. But she could feel the hunger gnawing at her insides. She knew she would need something soon. The idea of leaving her children with anyone was unsettling, regardless of how maternal Seara seemed. It seemed Moira’s trust issues would plague her for eternity. She didn’t think she could leave them at night to feed. Breasal left the cabin once the sun set to hunt for all three. Seara patted the couch beside her.

  “Join me, Moira.”

  Moira sat.

  “When you shield, are you still able to sense others thoughts?” Moira asked.

  “Yes and no. You may get impressions. If you are very strong, and able, you can someday not only shie
ld your mind from someone, but also pierce the wall of others' thoughts at the same time. This is very complex and not something most or our young can do. Generally, you start by learning to shield.”

  “If you become still, you will sense the essence of Na Fuilteacha inside you. It takes practice and skill. We will start you with a simple awareness method. You must focus on your breath and completely feel each body part. You start with your feet, and breath by breath move up your body. Notice how it feels on the outside, the skin. Then focus on the energy inside. Let’s do this together.”

  Moira and Seara sat side by side, breathing deeply through the nose and out through the mouth. With each breath, Seara led Moira to a different part of the body. By the time they had reached the crowns of their heads, Moira began to feel a tingling sensation settle in at the bottom of her spine. As she moved from feeling her scalp to feeling just inside her scalp, she felt the tingling move up her spine to the top of her head.

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  “Yes. It’s almost like an electric river.”

  “This is the essence the Morrigan imparted to Kennocha. It’s what keeps us alive. It’s impossible to kill us save to harm this essence. Sunlight, iron stakes, and decapitation. Those things can kill us. Otherwise, we are immortal.”

  “Tap into this energy for everything you do. It will empower you, and will give you immeasurable stamina and strength.”

  “How does this help me shield?”

  “Well, first it stabilizes you like an anchor. You must have mental resolve to block your thoughts. This resolve can come from your essence. Practice this. Over time, you can access your essence without any need for breathing or special meditations. It is always with you. Second, you actually pull up the energy and imagine it covering your mind like a cloak.”

  Moira raised her eyebrow. “So I’m pretending?”

  “No, this is not pretend. You are using your thoughts to control the external world. Your thoughts have energy. This energy is power. It’s why you can use the energy to affect the physical, including mental processes.”