A Witch's Destiny

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  The others watched on as each of the trolls that had once more surrounded them burst into flames which eliminated the threat of being devoured by them, but consequently created a walled circle of flames. The trolls shrieked and writhed and the scent was disturbingly pungent.

  *

  Alainn walked toward what remained of the body of the eternal witch, surely now only bones picked clean by the ravenous trolls. She hurled the body into the flames by way of her magic and was certain she heard a distant screaming, which soothed her.

  “The third and final step has been completed without being prompted or alerted by the gods, Alainn has passed the last of the tests and destroyed a being proclaimed immortal, Ebrill the eldest of the eternal witches.” Lugh stated in a loud voice as though proclaiming Alainn’s conquest to the gods.

  “This was all another of their insufferable tests?” Danhoul said with contempt and unhidden disgust.

  “She said she was only eight-hundred years old!” Conner interrupted.

  “I suppose she was prone to fabricating the truth regarding her age as every other female,” Lugh said in a matter-of-fact tone. “By my estimation, she was perhaps eight-thousand years old, and not only the eldest, but also the most powerful of all the eternal witches.”

  Before anyone could reply or further discuss the objectionable subject, Alainn swiftly wished them all away from the putrid smell of burning troll flesh, the impenetrable circle of fire, and the horrid memories of what had transpired this night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Alainn opened her eyes, it was daylight. She glanced down at her garment and found she was wearing the lovely blue dress she had worn when Killian proposed to her. The day was sunny with a light breeze that caught her wispy blonde hair in a pleasing manner. She inhaled the fresh morning air. She picked a wildflower and placed it to her nose, reveling in the scent and the beauty that surrounded her, and presumed she must be dreaming. For the briefest time, she hoped she would never wake up.

  She was standing before an odd hill, covered entirely in lovely tiny blue wildflowers. There was a peaceful serenity surrounding the location. A gentle breeze rustled the grass and the birds chirped cheerfully in the nearby trees. Even the fragrant scent upon the air was serene and pleasing.

  Alainn looked toward the nearby hill and curiously thought she should remember something regarding the hill, but for all her attempts she was unable to recall, only that it was not a coincidence that she had wandered here and found this location.

  She walked toward it and she saw that there was a tiny window in the side of the hill, undetectable from a distance. She peered inside without even wondering where the others might be or what might have happened to them. At the moment, that didn’t seem to be an important consideration. When she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, she turned to look into the eyes of a slight man with grey, thinning hair.

  “May I be of assistance?” he said in a gentle voice.

  When she attempted to reply, she found her throat ached fiercely and she could barely manage a hoarse whisper. The pain in her throat disturbed her for she was filled with the memory of the witch attempting to strangle her, and scattered fragments of all that had occurred. She touched her hand to her shoulder as well and a sharp pain followed. She had hoped that perhaps it had all been a terrible dream, and she shook her head to rid herself of the horrific images she’d recalled.

  “I’m looking… for…” She croaked and coughed loudly. It felt as though she had swallowed daggers.

  “If you are looking for Bulwark then you have found me,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “You must be Alainn,” he said once more in calm amiable tone. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come inside. I have food and lodging for you this night.”

  “Bulwark… that name is to have some great relevance, but yet I cannot discern why.” She rasped.

  “It will come to you when the time is right, Alainn.”

  She didn’t sense any threat from the man and she simply obediently followed him. Once inside, he motioned for her to sit down and she found a chair by the tiny table and surveyed the furnishings in the prim little cottage. The agreeable man brought her a bowl of stew and she stared down at it with a degree of suspicion.

  “Eat, Alainn, surely you’re hungry.”

  “Do you know where my husband is, and my friends?” She rasped.

  “Yes, of course, they were brought here as well and have been shown to the nearby chambers.”

  “My husband was… wounded.” She coughed again and she put her hand to her throat in attempt to alleviate some of the pain as she swallowed.

  “Yes, young Danhoul has administered some healing balms and given him a potent remedy so that he might sleep.”

  “I need to see Killian.” She coughed again, and her irritated throat burned unmercifully.

  “It would be best if you allow him to rest undisturbed this night. You will need to sleep as well. You’ve both experienced grievous harm this night.”

  She nodded and her eyes threatened to brim with tears. “I don’t remember how I got here.” She now barely whispered when she spoke.

  “It was your own powerful and intuitive magic that brought you here.”

  “And how did I come to be wearing this gown?” She could barely make herself heard.

  “The gown has a happy memory attached to it. That is why you now wear it.

  The gods are evidently ensuring you see and experience what they believe will bring you comfort. But for now you should not attempt to talk any longer, Alainn. You have been sorely injured as well. If not for your powers, you would have met with death this night.”

  She experienced a sudden flash of memory and recalled being without garments and entirely covered in blood.

  “Who saw me washed and clothed?”

  “It was I,” he said.

  This disturbed her and she narrowed her eyes at him as though she may have been too quick to trust him. “You think I would wish to have any man bathe me, much less someone I have never seen before?”

  “I am neither male nor female, or perhaps both. I am capable of assuming the image of many people, and creatures. While I bathed you, I took the form of the human woman Margaret for she once bathed you when you were a child, and that is a comforting memory for you. You think of her as a motherly figure more so than your own mother who did not spend time with you when you were a child.”

  “How do you know so much of me?”

  “It is necessary for me to know all there is to know of you, young Alainn.”

  “Why are you not Margaret now?” she whispered.

  “Would you prefer if I appear to you as Margaret?”

  Alainn shrugged as though nothing actually mattered to her at the moment.

  “Sometimes after someone has suffered upheaval or tragedy, speaking with a stranger is easier than to someone we know. You would surely not care to relate to Margaret the pain or injustices inflicted upon you or witnessed by you.”

  Alainn stared at him with coolness as she spoke. “I would not care to relate that to anyone, not ever.”

  He simply nodded in understanding.

  “Why are you now a man with surely four decades to your credit?”

  “I’m to appear as a fatherly sort, here to protect you and set you at ease. I sense you wouldn’t wish to see or speak with either a young man or woman at the moment.”

  Her weary mind was too tired to comprehend the reasoning. She pulled her long blonde hair to the side and as she grazed her throat she felt the tender areas where the witch had used any number of items in attempt to choke her. She was certain if she dared to gaze into a looking glance she would see numerous dark bruises. Alainn inhaled deeply at the many horrendous memories, and bent over to smell the stew.

  “I did not poison the stew if that is your concern for I see you maintain much suspicion even still.” The man said and she stared into his thin face, and noticed there was tenderness in his brown eyes. />
  “Tell me what form I should take that would offer you greater comfort and I shall appease you by becoming that being. I am not limited to a human form.”

  Alainn saw him disbelievingly change from the small statured man to Enbarr, Lugh’s magical horse. Then as quickly as he’d become the horse he was changed to the water dragon she’d spoken with only days ago, and then to her complete astonishment, to Wolf, the cherished Irish wolfhound she’d loved since she was a child, but had been killed some time ago. She reached out and petted the furry neck, but then shivered at the use of his powerful magic.

  “Do you actually become those creatures or do I simply see it as so by the use of your magic?”

  “Does it matter to you if it brings you any level of comfort?”

  “Your previous form will do,” she whispered.

  He obligingly returned to the form of the timid man as requested, and they sat in silence for some time.

  “I recall, I was made to believe it would be difficult to find you, and that you may be unpleasant to deal with. I was told I may have to prove my identity to you for you would be most untrusting of me.”

  She spoke through telepathy to see if the man so obviously a magical being would be capable of communicating in this manner for her throat burned severely when she spoke.

  She poked at her food and although it smelled entirely delicious to her and she felt her mouth begin to water although her stomach did not register hunger. Still, she did not lift the fork to her mouth. In her shattered, exhausted state, she hadn’t the strength or the desire to lift the food to her mouth. The man watched on with empathy and understanding. It was apparent he understood her telepathic words, but he chose to respond by speaking aloud.

  “That was to be part of the trials you were to endure to test you, but I was made aware of your most difficult night. The consternation you were made to contend with was terribly reprehensive. But you reunited the wizard with his son and ended a seven-hundred-year curse that will allow the trows to flourish and multiply again. That is not something to be taken lightly. Not to mention destroying an evil being that apparently has brought misfortune and upheaval wherever she has traveled for millennia. You will not be made to prove your identity or your worth. Your merit has been noted and measured by all who possess benevolent magic.”

  “So the trows have truly been released from the curse?”

  The man nodded in assurance. She managed a weak smile in knowing something good had come from the horrors of the experience with Ebrill.

  “You are actually Bulwark then? You are the revered keeper of the portals?”

  “I am.” He smiled and he exuded pride in his assignment.

  “I didn’t expect to be searching for a small man, but expected perhaps an enormous warrior or a magical creature.”

  “As I have said, I can assume many forms, and by your previous reaction, I suspect you’ve had enough of magic this night.”

  “Was it you or the gods who chose this form?”

  “I often sense what form is best depending on whom I am conversing with. It is beneficial in my duties.”

  “You don’t appear threatening or unpleasant as I’d been warned.”

  “Aye, but you’ve not attempted to enter any of the portals against my wishes!” He smiled again.

  “Tis true.”

  Alainn felt the unpleasant movement within her and she closed her eyes, once more reminded of the evil child that grew within her and how she’d been influenced by his darkness and driven to commit unthinkable violence. Although she did not bear any regrets in taking Ebrill’s life, the gruesome extremes she’d gone to in accomplishing the feat, left her stomach undeniably queasy and her mind filled with objectionable memories.

  She estimated there would be one more week until the gods would attempt to see the evil within her finally dealt with. Yet, if not for the dark being within her she would surely be dead and the others as well.

  “It must be a most undesirable consideration to carry a child within you knowing it is of an evil origin.”

  “It is.” She swallowed hard, knowing he could read her thoughts and that he was aware of her predicament. She bravely fought to quell the tears that brimmed in her eyes.

  He simply nodded in an understanding manner and placed his hand upon her shoulder in comfort. She sensed no trickery or sorcery at play, and she dared to heave a sigh of relief.

  “Eat, Alainn; it will begin to restore your strength.”

  She slowly placed the stew to her mouth, and although she wasn’t certain anything would ever bring her relief or joy again, the savory stew did warm her.

  “Thank you, ’tis most tasty.”

  He nodded again and something in his mere presence left her filled with a peace she hadn’t actually felt since before her time in England. He immediately responded to her troubled thoughts.

  “Although you suffer the unenviable result of your time with the notorious king, you have ensured a time of peace for the people of your land. It has not gone unnoticed by the gods or those of us with magical associations. You may think it was for naught, but it wasn’t, I assure you. Your selfless deed in suffering the violation instead of permitting the young girl, Lily, to be harmed, was also duly noted.”

  She shrugged as if uncertain of anything at the moment.

  “If the dark witch Ciara carried a child sired by the king, affected by the cursed dagger, and schooled by the demon… if he had been taken to Odhran, the world as you know would cease to exist. Even the worlds and realms occupied by mystical, magical creatures would be affected by his evil. Young Lily’s mind nor her body would have withstood the violation or carrying an evil being. Odhran and his demons would simply have disposed of her as soon as the child was born. Young Danhoul and your husband would have been killed at the hands of the English, make no mistake about that! Your unselfish acts have saved those you care for and so many more you will never know.”

  Her time in England and all that had transpired there all seemed so very long ago to her and yet as she felt the unwelcome movement within and the pain that accompanied it, she vividly recalled her encounter with the king and the long-lasting results. She simply wanted it rectified.

  “In one week’s time, it shall be done.” The man related as he continued to hear her desperate thoughts.

  “With all your many magical abilities, are you able to create peace within my husband’s mind as well?” she questioned though she held little hope.

  Even Bulwark’s gentle fatherly face lined with the creases of age, could not mask his doubt on that count.

  “Your husband has been fed what sustenance he could manage to eat, and as I informed you, Danhoul has given him potions to heal his wounds and to cause him to sleep. However, he will need to rest for a lengthy time to recover and to regain his strength. He has suffered a malevolent injustice and you both have endured a torturous ordeal this night.”

  Alainn attempted to forget the memory of the disturbing sights and sounds of Killian and the lusting witch.

  “I suspect only you can bring him peace, Alainn… and time will perhaps enable you both to…

  “To forget this night and all that transpired?” she suggested with bitterness.

  “You’ll not forget it, no.”

  “Is it because of your magical abilities you know what has taken place this night?”

  “Some of it, but Danhoul explained it to me after your husband and the Scotsman were settled in their chambers. And then Lugh came to me as well. All are concerned about you and your present state.”

  “Because I slipped over the edge into a state of utter madness this night?”

  “Madness is relative, I suppose, and given to judgment. One cannot accurately declare another mad without having walked an identical path.”

  She was grateful for his understanding manner. She simply nodded and set her spoon in her bowl though she had scarcely managed to take a few bites. She sipped the cool water and they sat together no longer
conversing. She grew wearier and her head felt unnaturally heavy.

  “Come with me now, Alainn, and I will show you to where you might slumber this night.”

  As the man opened the tiny door within his cottage, Alainn needed to bend low to go through it, but was astonished to see that beyond that one unadorned diminutive room and the tiny door, the cottage was incomprehensibly immense. Not unlike the magical corridor she had seen beyond the realm of gloom and hopelessness and the enchanted stairway, this corridor appeared never-ending as well.

  “These are all portals to other realms?” she questioned as he led her down the lengthy hallway.

  He nodded.

  “And how are you, one magical creature, keeper to all these portals?”

  “This location has been charmed and warded for centuries to prevent evil from crossing these portals. I have various magical abilities and the gods assist me when they deem necessary.”

  “Aye, well, in my opinion, the gods and their selectiveness of when to assist others, together with their damnable tests, can all go to hell straightaway,” she spewed.

  “I see you are justly angered at the gods and confounded at attempting to understand what is perhaps beyond one being’s comprehension. Even with your brilliant mind and your unmatched powers it will not be easily managed. Allow your mind to simply be still for a time, Alainn. You have earned that.”

  He opened the door to a chamber before them and motioned for her to enter.

  “Rest well, Alainn. We shall speak in the morning, and then we shall discuss where we might locate your father.”

  She stared up into his face and knew at one time she would be overcome with excitement at the possibility she would discover necessary information that would lead to finding her father, but at the moment she felt little else but despair at all that happened this night, and repulsion at the movement of the child within her.

  *

  Even knowing she was in a location where magic was apparently nearly limitless, Alainn was filled with disbelief as she entered the chamber. It was the exact duplicate of the chamber at Castle O’Brien that she had shared with Morag when she was a child and many years beyond. The bed was in the same position. Above the bed was a peg where two plain frocks hung. The pitcher and basin were in the corner, the peat log burned in the small fire, the basket of herbs sat in the corner where it had always been. Morag’s saffron cloak lay upon the bed. Alainn covered herself with it as she chose to lie down upon the straw bed on the floor where she’d slept as a child. As she pulled the cloak around her face, she inhaled and could detect the familiar scent of thyme, Morag’s favorite herb, and it brought her some comfort as she wept bitter sorrowful tears and eventually found sleep.