Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4)

C
ELTIC
S
TARS

Book 4 in the

Celtic Steel Series

By Delaney Rhodes

Moonlite Publishing

Copyright © 2012 by Delaney Rhodes

Cover Design by Kim Killion

Layout by Penoaks Publishing,
http://penoaks.com

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or copied in any manner whatsoever except with written permission.

WARNING

Warning: This book contains adult subject matter and adult material not suitable for children. It may contain any or all of the following: explicit sexual contact, graphic language, occult references, and violence and adult subjects.

Any similarities contained herein between fictional characters and actual events are merely coincidental and represent the imagination of the writer and are used for entertainment purposes only.

DIALECT DISCLAIMER

The characters represented in this work of fiction come from a time and place unlike our own.  There will be words, phrases and foreign language represented herein. In an attempt to create as realistic as possible an atmosphere for the reader; there will be some direct emphasis on accent, dialect and pronunciation in the dialogue. What you will find are not, in fact, misspellings or instances of bad grammar on the part of the author. Rather, you will discover phonetically enriched wordings—to symbolize the language and methods of communication in the period and geographical areas represented.

WHAT
READERS
ARE
SAYING

ABOUT THE CELTIC STEEL SERIES

“Great read couldn’t put it down.  Can’t wait for the next book in the series. You rank up there with Diana Gabaldon of the Outlander series.” ~ B. Breen

“I love the story – I thought it was the right mix of romance, a strong female character, historical setting, and magic/paranormal…” ~ A. Alayna

“What a FUN new author with a fabulous and well-written storyline! I wasn’t sure what to expect, but found myself so pulled into the story that I HAD to finish it before I could move onto my daily “to-do’s”; needless to say I recommend doing any and all chores before starting it. I am very much looking forward to the next … books in the series…!”

~ Karen Memmott

“I thoroughly enjoyed Celtic Storms and am way past anticipating the second in the series. I have read historical romance for over twenty years and the way the author transformed the genre and included paranormal elements (witchcraft, ESP, druidism, shape-shifting, etc.) was impressive.” ~ S. Sinclaire

"I liked the characters a lot, and they seemed well thought-out. The story flowed fairly well, and even included some surprises I didn’t see coming! The cliff-hanger ending left me ready for the next book!” ~ L. Alexander

D
EDICATION

To my dear friend Tammy, the strongest woman that I know.

P
ROLOGUE

Burke Lands, Western Ireland

Spring, 1458

“
Braeden O’Malley,” said a very disgruntled teenaged Orla Burke through clenched teeth, “We should’a been back for the clan games hours ago.”

“I know it,” he replied, sighing as he sat down with a thump against the cave wall. Running a dirt-covered hand through his unruly hair, he grunted aloud. “I’m almost done here,” he added, scratching his forehead. “I am just having trouble with this one thang,” he said pointing to a partially worn off wall scraping, a symbol of some kind he supposed.

After having spent the better part of the morning searching through the watery caves that border the shore in Burke territory, Orla was beginning to think they’d never leave her once beloved home-land. Braeden had woken her before sunrise and managed to talk one of the O’Malley clan’s shipmasters into taking them up the coast into the realm of Burke territory – home of their now sworn enemies.

Most of the Burke clan had escaped the lands many months back, taking refuge with surrounding clans, Braeden’s included. The O’Malley’s even welcomed the infamous Burke witch, Odetta Burke, eldest daughter of the late Burke Laird and the reluctant wife to Easal --now their worst adversary.Orla’s once-upon-a-time
mother
, Odetta Burke, had turned out to actually be her aunt.

It was a risk they took, coming back to the lands where Orla had been raised as the daughter of Odetta. How hard it was for Braeden to forget, he had once been held captive there himself. If it hadn’t been for his fiery determination, combat training, and Irish pluck, he might have never escaped.

Why on earth are we here?
, thought Orla to herself. “If Easal catches us, we are as good as dead I tell ye,” she barked at Braeden to no avail.Orla cringed to think of what her former step-father’s reaction would be to finding them on his land. “Tell me again what ye are doin’,” she breathed.

“It’s a recitation.”

“A recitation,” she mumbled under her breath, “for what?” she asked.

“To call them forth,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Call what forth?”

“Why – the dragons,” he said nonchalantly, “the dragons, of course. Can’t ye see the drawings here?” he asked.

Orla rose from her perch against the stony cave wall and ventured to the furthest corner of the cave where Braeden knelt, torch in hand, following the drawings with his finger.

“It’s this part, right here,” he exclaimed, “that I can’t quite figure out. This thang,” he pointed. “Do ye ken what this means?” he asked as he traced a cylindrical object which depicted wavy lines cascading around it.

“Aye,” she said, crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “I know what it is.”

“No, ye, don’t,” he retorted. “Yer just playing with me. How would ye know anahow?”

“Because I do ye old horses arse,” replied Orla. “I’ve had me training, and I know what it is I tell ye. I’ve been taught to read the maps.”

“Well then smart-breeches, why don’t ye tell me then?” he snorted standing up to look her in the eye, albeit on his tip-toes. She was only a few months older than he, but she was a good three inches taller. And that fact, she never tired of reminding him.

“’Tis not a thang, Braeden,” she gasped. “’Tis a place.”

“What place?”

“Finnegan Falls,”  he said, “in
O’Malley land
, she snorted pointing behind her towards the south, where they’d come from. Stooping down to get a better look at the drawings, she traced her finger over the outline of the object and gasped. Standing straight upright, she held her left hand over her mouth and gulped. “Braeden,” she whispered, “that right there,” she pointed, “is Dragon’s Point.”

O
NE

O’Malley Lands, Western Ireland

The Clan Games

Jamie Burke closed his eyes and prayed. He had counted to three before he opened them. But there was no one there. It was dark, and there was no Daenal standing in the distance. Even though he had been blind since birth, he had the ability to “see” shapes, shadows, and glimpses of light energy which surrounded most living creatures. And right now – he desperately wanted to “see” Daenal O’Malley, the woman he loved and hoped to have a future with.

Oh, how he wished he had not loosed that arrow. It would have been better to have let Daenal go, let her marry the other man, than to risk her life on a risky stunt to prove his manhood. But she was the one that insisted. Archery was the final category in the clan games and Jamie wasn’t about to give in or give up or give her over that easily if she didn’t want him to.  And she didn’t want him to. The thought sent blood rushing through his veins, he could feel the warmth grow in his cheeks and he was certain his competitors would mistake his blush for fear.

Their connection was palpable. From the first moment he laid his “eyes” on Daenal, he knew. She was surrounded by an immensely warm glow; he just knew she was the one. The one he had been told about it, the one that would change his life forever. He saw the trusting blue aura surround her when he raised the bow, saw it pulsate a light green when he drew back the line - and he closed his eyes in silent prayer when he loosed it.

Time seemed to literally stand still for a brief moment. He was frozen. His heart beat ferociously in his ears and his hands began to shake. Oh –
what had he done
? His thoughts were soon interrupted by an ominous whirling sound that appeared to grow louder and louder. The pounding of what seemed hundreds of feet against the hard ground beneath him confirmed his suspicions. Something terrible was happening or happened and he was terrified he had missed his mark.

The whirling soon mellowed to a slight hum and he was able to hear voices now. Still searching ahead for his precious Daenal, Jamie made to lurch forward. Abruptly— as he sensed a motion in front of him, he ran towards the target before LordPatrick MacCahan O’Malley raised a hand to stop him.

“Wait,” commanded Patrick. “Do'no’ move.”

It was then that Jamie realized the whirling sound had ceased altogether and had been substituted with the shouts of people fleeing the grounds. There was a commotion beside and behind him, and he felt the thunderous pounding of moving feet.

What is that smell?
He thought to himself, still being held back by Patrick’s determined hand.

“Is that a fire?” Jamie murmured.

“Aye,” whispered Patrick, struggling with his dragon-crest ring, which was tightening against his finger. "Now do'no' move, mayhap it willno' see us,” he muttered as he bent over attempting again in vain to remove the pinching, glowing ring.

“What?” Jamie whispered back, before noticing that the dark shape between him and Daenal moved. The shape appeared to turn and light up slightly by a brief flash of fire before it stilled, resting directly in front of the men. Waiting.

“Patrick,” Jamie asked softly, “Where is Daenal?”

“She is there Jamie, and she is safe,” Patrick responded. “"Do'no' move,” he repeated.

“Patrick, what is th-that?” he asked. “I canna’ see it. There is somethin’ jest ahead of us—what is it?”

The smell enveloped Jamie’s nostrils again, and he thought he might have recognized the stench as sulfur.
What on earth?
He thought.

Patrick’s right hand ceased its burning, and his ring relinquished its tight grip on his finger. Looking down at his hand, he noticed the eyes on the ring were no longer lit up. “Lucian, what do we do?” Patrick asked the robed man to his right.

“Keep still Patrick, and Jamie, quit fidgeting,” echoed the elderly scribe’s soft reply.  “We wait, to see what it wants.”

“What it wants?” Jamie asked. “What in god’s name is it Patrick?”

“Jamie,” Patrick whispered slowly, “’'Tis a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Jamie repeated under his breath. He had heard tales of such but had never in his life believed them to be true. “ living, breathing dragon?” he whispered in astonishment to Patrick.

“A fire-breathing dragon,” Patrick corrected as he released his arm from in front of Jamie’s chest.