by C E Dimond
A Lost Legacy
DESCENDING
__________
A LOST LEGACY: DESCENDING
Copyright © 2019 by C.E. Dimond
Write Addictions Publishing
ISBN 978-1515075158
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
Cover Art Design
Copyright © 2019 by C.E. Dimond
First Edition
MORE BOOKS BY C.E. DIMOND
LOST LEGACIES SERIES
AWAKENING (#1)
WANDERING (#0.5)
DESCENDING (#2)
OTHER BOOKS
DEAD IN THE WATER
POETRY
BEHIND THE SMILE
For my sisters.
Whatever your dream, you can achieve it.
Table of Contents
Chapter 115
Chapter 229
Chapter 337
Chapter 445
Chapter 557
Chapter 666
Chapter 780
Chapter 887
Chapter 9104
Chapter 10117
Chapter 11136
Chapter 12150
Chapter 13158
Chapter 14167
Chapter 15177
Chapter 16186
Chapter 17202
Chapter 18219
Chapter 19230
Chapter 20239
Chapter 21244
Chapter 22249
A Lost Legacy
DESCENDING
Lost Legacies
______________
Book Two
C.E. Dimond
Glossary
Irish Name and Word Pronunciation Guide
Fionnuala (FINN-oola)
Eamon (AY-min)
Declan (DEK-lyn)
Neely (KNEE-ly)
Caine (p. Cane)
Cian (p. KEE-in)
Niamh (Ne-VE)
Iseult (p. ISH-Ald)
Keilan (p. Key-Lynn)
Fionn (p. Finn)
Leabhar (p. LOOw-er)
Daoine mac tíre (p. DA-Oin MAK tire)
1
“What have you done? You have poisoned them all! For nothing more than a few fleeting glances?” A man’s voice spoke. His eyes wore a deep-set worry; his youthful features betrayed him, showing a heavy burden of guilt.
“They are not but asleep. It is only a potion.” It was a woman’s gentle voice that cut in on his concern. “We may leave now, and they will never know. Not until long after we have gone beyond their reach.”
The two were standing in the shadows of a torch lit corridor, the light of the flame flickering off the weathered stone walls. She, with a clear look of determination on her face; He, still looking as though his whole world was crashing down around him.
“You do not understand,” he started. “You are not thinking clearly. Not giving it the consideration that it truly deserves.” His voice was so assured, strong and noble. “You are giving up a crown, and most certainly your life. You must know that he will never let you just walk away. You underestimate the pride of our King.”
Her determination seemed to shift to anger, then annoyance. If she agreed with him it was difficult to tell. However, an undeniable stubbornness set into her features instead, masking any other truths.
“I do not want his crown! He is an ancient man, far beyond my years. I am nothing more to him than a trophy to add to the castle walls. I would rather live on the run with you than spend a single moment as a Queen in this palace. He will not have a choice, not if we leave now. We shall be too far ahead by the time they even notice we have gone. I beg of you, do not think on it too much; just act, come with me.”
“He will still hunt us down! His reach extends across the Kingdoms. We will never be safe from him if we leave this life behind. I am sorry,” he said with firmness. “I do love you,” He reached his hand to rest it gently on her cheek. “But I cannot betray my leader, my friend. I cannot leave with you. My duty is here.”
His eyes left her and turned to look back into the room. His few good, loyal friends were the only others who had not succumbed to the potion. He hoped that he could trust them to keep quiet. He leaned back to face the woman, his eyes taking in her face with sadness.
“You took a great risk leaving his Kin unaffected.”
A slight smile took to her lips, one he might have feared had he not known of the true kindness within her heart.
“Can you not see the risks I am willing to take for you?” she asked. “They respect you, they would not betray us.” Her voice was so certain, so reassuring. He almost found himself believing for a moment, they could get away.
He stood calm, but for only a moment. The struggle of emotion, the fight between love and duty was escalating within him. His mind knew what he must do in his duty-bound state. However, his heart was advising him what he wanted to do instead. Honour be damned. His heart and mind were always at odds and he knew, there would be no desired outcome. Stepping back from her, he balled up his fist tightly and turned, thrusting it against the hard-stone wall. The pain radiated through his hand, reminding him, centering him.
“Go,” his voice gruff, his eyes stayed focused on the stone instead of on her. “Go if you must, but he will follow,” A simple, decided statement, “and I will not.” He dropped his hand from the wall and turned himself further away from her.
“Wait!” She begged. Taking hold of his arm, she turned him back to face her. “You must come with me.” There was a new desperation in her voice and within the depths of her eyes. Also, a new sort of determination, one that did frighten him.
He should have seen it coming long before she reached for the small leather pouch that was tied onto her dress. It was too late. By the time he realized what happening, it was in her hand; its contents released, sparkling on the upturned palm on her hand.
“Please, I beg of you, do not do this.” His voice was gentle now, almost pleading as he watched her. His hand raised as he took a step back, his palm facing her in a stopping motion.
“I’m sorry,” she managed out, the sound of her own heartbreak breaking her words. Her lips pursed together, a gentle breeze escaping them as she blew the goddess’ fairy dust off her palm and watched as it wafted over him. She whispered, with tears in her eyes, “by geis… you will come with me.”
In that moment she saw the look of hurt cross his face. It was like a dagger straight through her heart. As much as it had pained her to speak the words, she knew that now, he now had no choice but to leave with her or face his own death. She had hoped, prayed, that she would never have to use the goddess’ gift. He had left her no choice; she knew his sense of honour would eventually have overcome his love for her. She had needed a bargaining chip up her sleeve. Now, he took the risk of leaving, breaking his warriors code, betraying his King and perhaps one day, being found and killed. Perhaps. Or staying, and by doing so breaking the geis she had placed upon him, and most certainly dying.
She hoped, that she knew his choice. For she had as much as taken it away from him. Even if it took a toll on his conscience, together they could overcome anything. She was sure of it.
He looked away from her once more, this time to the floor. He was fighting back his loyalties, his honour clashing against the new demand on him. It would be dishonor either way now, and the chance of death had become certain. If she was determined to escape this arrangement, he now had no choice but to ensure he could at least keep her alive for as long as possible.
“Meet me by the bridge in an hour’s time. We will leave on
horseback”
***
The plane jolted me awake. I squinted in protest at the sunlight that was streaming through the small window. How had the time passed so quickly? I sat up straighter and began to look around at the others on the plane. I soon discovered that I could barely remember the flight cross the ocean.
It was as if I had retreated deep into my own mind on the flight. Everything happening around me had seemed to pass by unnoticed. It was no real surprise; I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to concentrate on anything after what I had just done. I sat there as the plane began to descend into Dublin and it hit for the first time; I had no idea what I was doing. It had seemed so clear at the time, in that moment that I’d left the house, bag packed. I had been confident in my decision. The determination to protect the others had been the driving force behind me as the Taxi took me to the airport. Now that it was too late to change my mind, I asked myself; had it been a mistake?
No. I couldn’t let myself begin to think that way. I was firm on my decision. I still believed that leaving them behind had been the right thing to do. I had to have no regrets about that, or it was going to tear me apart on the inside. The cruel things I’d said to the others, those were words I did regret. Stepping over Eamon’s sleeping body in the hallway. Sneaking out without so much as a note detailing my goodbye. I regretted it all. I hadn't meant any of it, not a single word. But, when I’d started saying those things, once they had begun to flow from my lips, I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I had done it all with the intent to anger them, with the hope that they would never forgive me.
There was a chance that I’d taken it too far, especially using magic on Caine. I had broken the first rule of the coven with one swift flick of my wrist. The worst part was that I hadn’t even thought twice about doing it. I had done what I thought I needed to do; done what I could in that moment to convince them I’d gone rogue, no matter how many rules were broken along the way.
What was it they said about good intentions?
Oh right; Hell.
If I made it home alive, or at the very least still in control of myself I would face the consequences then. Until that time, I had a different mission. It was one that I had decided I needed to face alone. Doing things this way would ensure their survival. With me on the other side of the world, Cormac’s attention would be here, not on the members of Broadhaven.
I could only hope that it worked, that it would last. That their anger at my actions, my hateful words spewed at their expense, would prevent them from missing me. In turn, I hoped that it would prevent them from looking for me once they discovered I was gone. In conclusion, I hoped that without me around, their lives could go back to normal.
Maybe that was all wishful thinking.
Still, life without me had been their norm for sixteen years; it couldn’t be that hard for them to readjust.
For now, I would worry about my own journey; about the power Cormac intended for me to awaken. I needed to look into my past to figure out just what this prophecy truly was, and what it meant for my future.
If I managed to stop my father’s plans, then and only then, could I consider going back home. But if I consumed this power and lost myself, I had a feeling going back wouldn’t be an option.
After my brief taste of what dark magic could feel like; I wasn’t even sure that I would still want to go back.
One thing was certain; to succeed in my plan, I was going to need more information on my family’s legacy. All the Cavanaugh information in the world was useless to a full-blooded witch. I had two blood lines to worry about. With McLoughlin blood coursing through my veins, I needed access to both texts. I knew that despite what the others seemed to believe; knowledge would be power.
The elders had been against my quest for McLoughlin knowledge from the start. It seemed as though they feared what I could unleash if I embraced the other half of my legacy. Personally, I had a little more faith in my self-control. But, it was obvious that I wasn’t the one who called the shots anymore, or at least I hadn’t been until today.
The only one at Broadhaven who had even cared to give me any real answers had been Neely’s father Owen O’Brien. He had always been comfortable with any question I presented to him. He had also been the only one to give me real insight into who my mother was, beyond just a name or a face in a photograph. In a moment like this, I normally would have turned to him for answers. But I knew now that even he, like the others, had to believe that I had gone rogue.
As the descent drew on, I glanced down at the inside of my right wrist. It was still there, the dark triquetra mark that had been burned into my forearm. It had been left there when my father had saved me from the cliff’s edge, and it hadn’t faded.
My mark had started to gently burn the moment I had left Boston. It had continued to burn with a consistent pain the further away from the Coven I got. I assumed that it meant Cormac was still alive. Somehow, this mark bonded us and the burn served as a reminder that I was getting far closer to my destiny that I’d ever planned on. The last time it had burned with such ferocity, had been when the Fae had tried to pull me beneath the surface of the Boston harbor; the last time his magic had been near.
This mark was now our familial bond. Somehow it connected us, and it was as though it told me when I was getting closer to him. Or perhaps, it was warning me. Somehow, he always knew I was coming, even before the mark. I had known what I was getting myself into when I'd made the decision to come alone. I was sacrificing myself for them. This was my fight, not theirs.
We landed with an abrupt jerk, I decided I was not a fan of landing. Though for a first-time flyer, I thought I’d done quite well keeping calm. We then coasted into what felt like a crawl as the plane pulled into the terminal. That sound of the seatbelt sign let out what had become a familiar ding, advising we could unbuckle.
What a strange sense of freedom.
I waited with patience, as those around me gathered their things. Then, in a congested single file line, they all began to make their way off the plane.
I waited until nearly everyone was gone before getting to my feet. Grabbing my backpack from beneath the seat in front of me, I swung it up and onto my shoulders and began to make my way towards the front of the plane. As I stepped out of it and into the tunnel connecting us to the terminal, everything began to feel frighteningly real.
I made my way rather painlessly through customs, before exiting into the arrivals section.
Dublin airport was bustling with people, which was hardly a surprise. I glanced around me, taking in each and every one that passed by me. The mix of voices and new accents swirled around me, it truly began to settle in. I was on the other side of the ocean.
My stomach twisted with nerves as I pushed my way through the crowds. They were completely oblivious to what was going on right under their noses. Oblivious of the danger that lay ahead of them if all of this went south. Every single one of them was in danger and I felt like screaming it out in the middle of the crowded building. I wanted to warn them of everything that was on the horizon. The only problem was that, even I didn’t know what was coming, not really.
I kept my mouth shut. If not only because I didn’t know what to tell them, but I knew that it would get me locked up in a mental health ward before I even made it out of the airport.
Still, their presence around me only reminded me of what the others been saying all along; we weren't the only ones who were going to be affected by this. If my father succeeded in whatever he had planned, everyone around me would suffer at his hand.
Now, it was all on me to stop him.
Pushing through the hordes of people, I finally made my way outside and into the fresh, damp air. After a few minutes I turned and began to make my way further down the road, away from the entrance. Motioning the need for a taxi, I slipped inside the first one that presented itself and shut the door behind me. I sat there in silence for a moment. I was here now, but what was I going to do next? Af
ter all, there was only so much a sixteen-year-old girl could do on her own without drawing too much attention. That, and having the knowledge that my father was on the Island meant I needed to tread with extreme care.
I needed food, and a place to stay. Those were the basic necessities to start my search. I also knew that I wanted to get to the archives. In my research, that I conducted while I’d been waiting to depart Boston, I had discovered that they had documents and papers dating back to the eleventh century. I knew that any information I was going to find on my family line, would likely be hidden within the ancient documents. The question now, was how I was going to gain access to them?
The cab driver then glanced at me in his rear-view mirror.
“Where you headed?” The question was a simple one, yet the anxiety fluttered through my veins as I thought of what answers could lay before me.
Panic was keeping me from responding. The truth was, I didn’t know where I was headed.
I cleared my throat and tried to take a moment to gather my thoughts before forcing a smile on my lips.
“National archives please.”
He took off without much hesitation.
Leaning back in my seat, I clutched my bag to my chest and watched as the foreign city whizzed by. I had once thought Broadhaven was the furthest I’d been from home, that honor had now been completely usurped.
The damp chill in the air could be felt even in the car. It was the kind of chill that could cut through my fall sweater and straight through to the bone. It was the warning that winter was still around the corner and a painful reminder that Christmas would be settling in soon.