by C.S. Fanning
something about “lost” and “he’ll kill them.” He didn’t know what was going on, but it was obvious that she had somehow been cornered into standing against him.
Walking over to the kneeling woman he took her arm and lifted her. There were gasps around the circle, and one woman in the back cried out “No bloodshed in the grove.”
Ignoring all else, Riordan held her up, searching her face for signs of what was ravaging her soul. Using his magic to search her body and mind, he quickly determined that neither sickness nor enchantment was to blame, and though her mind was in a state of turmoil she was not insane. Either she had some personal motivation to have opposed him or someone had in some way threatened her. That someone could somehow cause her to abandon her own principles, the very same principles that had allowed her to rise to the exalted position that she now held, was disturbing.
“Sianna” he whispered softly. “Do you accept me as High Druid?”
Her body was wracked anew with sobs but she nodded affirmatively. Holding out his staff, the staff that had passed down from High Druid to successor for as long as the order had existed, he offered her the choice to make oath upon it. This ancient staff was imbued with the magic of its bearers over the generations, and it gave its bearers powers that few other than the High Druids were aware of, but one power was legendary; any druid who swore an oath upon the staff would find their magic stripped from them and absorbed by the staff should that vow ever be broken.
“Sianna, High Druidess of Caledonia, will you swear upon the staff of the High Druid to follow my orders as High Druid without question?” Riordan asked, loud enough to be heard by all. Lifting her head proudly, Sianna took hold of the staff, and vowed her life to the support of the High Druid. When it was done, Riordan joined her in closing the grove and ordered everyone to reassemble at dusk for a meeting.
“Sianna, what does the enemy hold over you?” Riordan asked once everyone had dispersed, save the two of them and Finnis.
“The King of Eire holds my grandchildren hostage. They are to be executed upon the battlefield if you bring the order to the battle. They are being held with the villagers of Bretharc in a town called Longford” she confessed, knowing full well that her words carried import for him as well.
Riordan stared at her for long moments as he considered his options. “In that case Sianna, I am compelled to remove you as High Druid of Caledonia.”
Sacrifice
Aeden dreamed of dark places where the light of the gods had not shown. He wondered as he dreamed if perhaps his soul had not wandered into some nightmare land, from where he might never escape. He felt alone, and for the first time since accepting the gift of the Morrighan, he felt unsure of himself. It was like being lost in a maze without end, and the harder he tried to escape the more lost he became. He had nearly given up hope when his mother appeared.
“Mother?” he asked, thinking this was some trick. She was standing before him as though she had just materialized from some other realm, and in her left hand she held his sword.
“Yes son, it is I. I have watched over you from afar, and would give anything to be at your side but my father forbids it. I can only visit with you here because this place is between worlds” she told him, the depth of her emotions struggling to burst free. They sat and talked for a time, and Aeden felt a sense of peace that he had never known before. She talked of his family and of falling in love with his father even though it had been forbidden. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind much of what the gods did, but it was enough to know that his mother hadn’t abandoned him for lack of love.
Aeden could have talked to her for days but she reluctantly handed him his sword, along with a small leather bag with a three pointed symbol tooled into the leather. “You have to go back son. Your friends need you more than I. The world needs you. You will find some useful items in that bag, but use them wisely. They are as rare as they are powerful.”
As he took the sword and bag from her, everything around him faded to white, and before he could say farewell, she was gone. The brightness of the light forced him to shut his eyes, but as the glow faded, he blinked them open once more only to find a woman leaning over him. For a moment he thought that it was his mother.
“He’s awake” Fianna’s voice, so close, cut through the fog in his mind. Glancing around he found they were in a small cabin. It didn’t look familiar, so Aeden assumed they were no longer in Bretharc.
“Where are we? What has happened?” Aeden asked immediately.
“Settle down son and we’ll tell you everything, just don’t talk too much and don’t try to get up” his father said from across the room.
He lay back upon the rough mattress, anxiously awaiting the news of what had transpired. They tested his patience nearly to the point of breaking as his father limped over to him, his leg and shoulder wrapped in bandages, while Fianna went to the fire, only to return in a moment with a bowl of broth. His father held a cup of ale to his lips and the strong dark fluid made him realize that he was famished.
“How long…” he began to ask.
“Shush Aeden” Fianna scolded. “We’ll tell you about it as long as you eat and lay still.”
Aeden wanted to tell her that he could get up and feed himself. However, as she began spooning hot soup into his mouth the warmth filled his insides and began spreading to his limbs which had grown numb from disuse. He decided it might be best to indulge their concerns until he understood better what had happened.
The biggest shock was discovering that he had been unconscious for nearly two weeks. Though wounded themselves, Fianna and his father had rounded up the horses and gotten him into a potato cart. They’d traveled all night to get to this place. It was a hunting cabin that his father said belonged to an old friend of his before the man died. His father had stopped by when he could to keep the place up when he had to travel to Longford.
They had tended him and each other as best they could, but without a healer it was impossible to know if Aeden would live or die. His father had been burned all down one side, and his wounds were still healing. Fianna knew enough wood lore to find a plant to help prevent infection while his body repaired itself. Fianna had been stabbed by a broken branch when the tree fell, piercing her thigh, but his father had managed to stitch it up, and after a few days she had been able to get around almost as good as new.
Aeden’s external wounds had healed quickly, especially considering that he had been charred by the magic of the sorcerers over most of his body, but still he had not awakened. Fianna told him that his father had prayed to his mother night and day, but they had begun to lose hope as the second week slipped away with no signs of change.
“She came to me” Aeden said. Fianna and his father just looked at one another, clearly thinking that he had been dreaming. “Really, she did. She gave me this” he said, holding up the bag. “She spoke to me about our family and why she couldn’t be with us. I didn’t understand it all, but she told me I had to go back and handed me this and my sword and the next thing I knew I was awaking here.”
“We lost your sword Aeden” Fianna said, and something in the way she said made Aeden realize that she was not exactly unhappy about it. He could feel the hilt under his hand and taking hold of it pulled it from beneath the blanket.
Fianna gasped and his father just stared in wonder. “We looked everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. I feared that the gods had reclaimed it because you would not survive your wounds” Gareth said.
Aeden was curious about what was in the bag, but he decided that now was not the time to find out. Fianna continued feeding him the broth along with some soaked bread while his father said a silent prayer to his mother in thanks. He had finished the soup before he remembered what had not been discussed. “What of Bretharc and the people?” he asked, watching their faces, in case their expressions revealed something they were unwilling to say.
>
“They are safe, for now” they both said in unison. Aeden had no doubt that they had rehearsed this response.
“What is happening? Do I need to go find out myself?” he asked, knowing that they were holding something back.
The both looked at the other once again, hesitant to speak, until Aeden had had enough and began to rise. It was easier than he would have expected, but Fianna’s hand upon his chest compelled him to stay down. He stopped trying to stand when his father began to speak.
“They are being held at the garrison at Longford. Fianna caught one of their soldiers two days ago, defecting to the north. He told her that they were to be sacrificed to some foreign goddess from over the sea just as the rebel army prepares to engage the king’s army” his father told him.
“So Lord Donegal moves to oppose the king?” Aeden asked.
“The whole of the north, and if the defector is to be believed, much of the south” his father replied.
“We have to stop this sacrifice, we have to save our people” Aeden cried.
“You’re people are right here” Fianna said, a hint of anger in her voice.
“What of your father? What of Riordan’s family, or the others?” Aeden demanded to know.
Fianna said nothing, struggling to hold back some grievous pain