Reliquary's Choice: Book Two of The Celtic Prophecy (13 page)

“Ah, priestess. Dae no’ struggle. I will make yer passing quick. Yer acquainted with the Oracle.”

The Oracle drew close studying her. “Ye’ll remember I kin that last time we met ye took something from me. I was sore lost without it for a time, but the gods ha’ decided ta reinstate my gifts that ye stripped from me. So all o’ yer work was for naught.”

She grabbed Brenawyn’s arm, and inhaled sharply, eyes springing open. She transferred her hands to Brenawyn’s abdomen kneading it. “Who did ye play the whoor for, dearie? Whose bairn dae ye carry?”

Cormac pulled on her hair making her arch her back, her face and neck exposed to him. “I ought ta kill ye now for causing so much trouble.”

“Cormac Domhnall MacBrehon, we need ta wait. We canna dae this now. She is with child. She canna be touched yet.”

“But … ”

“Nay. I ken ye are eager, as am I, ta be done with it, but remember the prophecy. She will come inta her power after … ”

“Aye, that I dae remember, but are ye sure? She doesna ha’ the roundness.”

The Oracle lifted Brenawyn’s breasts, weighing them considering, disregarding the visceral objection that Brenawyn made at being handled that way. “Aye, t’is as I ha’ said it ta be. Her breasts are heavy in anticipation.”

“But if we were ta wait, then Samhain … ”

“Aye, she willna be delivered by the fire feast. We must watch her carefully, allow her ta undergo the final rite and then after she delivers, take what we need.”

“And Sinclair? He willna be a hindrance?’

“Leave him ta me, Master Bard.” A knife appeared in the Oracles hand, and she ripped at the air. “The Hunt will occupy him for a time.”

A horn sounded, the same low otherworldly call that Brenawyn had heard before, but this time the dark steed with glowing red eyes hurtled through the rift. The rider on its back ducked and twisted for his helm, but pulled up rein in front of Brenawyn. Tattoos covered the expanse of his chest and arms and the same antlered helm of gold covered his head. Even at this close distance, his face was shadowed. Cernunnos had arrived.

He considered her for a moment, bowed his head and turned the horse toward the circle that held Alex prisoner. He but touched it and the containment spell was broken.

Alex felt his bones shift. He fell to his knees and bowed low even before the shift had fully taken place, but he could see the sluaghs come through the rift, padding around him to make a new perimeter, boxing their prey in. The horse’s razored hooves stepped close to Alex’s kneeling form and pawed the ground. He could feel it breathing on his neck, and it took all his strength not to cower. He knew what those hooves felt like, trampling him the one time. He was not up to reliving the memory. “Please, Cernunnos, I humbly … ”

“Ye will dae nay such thing, prey. Long have I waited for ye ta bring me word. Longer ha’ I sought ye. Now ye will answer with yer life.”

“No.”

All assembled turned their heads in the direction of Brenawyn’s voice. “No, you will not take him.” Five colors of iridescent runes glowed under her skin. Alex looked around, the horse and the hounds stared at her.

She skirted past the horse, touching it briefly on its neck. It horse shuddered in response. Cernunnos dismounted, taking a step toward her but she kept an eye only for Alex. She gained his side and only after looking at him to assess if there was any damage did she turn back to the god. “We seem to be at an impasse.”

“How dae ye suggest we compromise?” asked the god.

“Give him something to cover himself as we negotiate.” She left Alex’s side to walk the perimeter of the circle, touching each dog on the head and flank, and each in response lay down and closed its eyes, content.

In shock, Cernunnos said, “My hounds doona sleep. They are forever on the hunt.”

“Huh. Before this, perhaps. Let them sleep.”

“I will ha’ ye know that I canna stay the hunt.” Cernunnos walked to his horse, and pulled a length of fabric from one of the saddle bags. “Now that he has been found he will be hunted. T’is no’ only me that hunts. The others: a more insatiable lot ye’ll no’ find. No reasoning with them.” He unraveled it, and tossed it to Alex, who in turn swathed his naked hips. “T’is beyond my control, but perhaps I can provide a temporary reprieve, though he needs ta come back with me as a prisoner.”

“That doesn’t sound to me like a … ”

“Silence. He will remain untouched until ye come ta claim him. Ye must make yer own way thaur though, with no help from others. Ye ha’ until the night o’ Samhain.”

Brenawyn was by Alex’s side now, and he grabbed at her wrists bending her down to plead with her. “Ye canna come for me. This is Cernunnos; he’ll no’ let ye go once he kens who ye are and if ye get thaur he will for sure ken it. Stay away, lass. Stay away. I canna bear it if anything were ta happen ta ye.”

She touched his cheek and smiled. Brenawyn stepped out of his arms and turned to Cernunnos. “Tell me of this prison. How will he be treated?”

“He will be kept in a room lavish in its furnishings in my own home—under surveillance of course, fed delicacies...”

“Aye, ta make me fat and slow. Easy prey for yer hounds ta take down.”

“Silence.” Cernunnos turned to address Brenawyn again, “Fed delicacies until such time that he will be rejoined with the hunting grounds.”

“No harm shall come to him until then?”

“Ye have my word.”

“I’ll need a bit more than that, I think. Give me your hand.”

“Brenawyn!” Alex and Cormac spoke up in unison, shocked at the implications.

“Nay, Brenawyn, doona,” Alex repeated, but before either he or Cormac could move she slashed the penknife across her palm and did the same to Cernunnos, touching the open wounds together.

The surrounding woods grew fuzzy, I tried to blink away the blur, bringing my hand up to rub at my eyes. The movement was slow. My head felt heavy. My heart fluttered in my chest. There was another heartbeat, stronger, all around me, beating in my ears, on my body. Muffled noise distorted further. Rhythmic. Chanting. A woman’s voice. Calling on someone, calling on her gods pleading … for release. The beating grew louder, thundered in my head, my own raced to match it. Pressure building, I wanted to scream, but didn’t know how. A soft almost, imperceptible sound like a soap bubble bursting, then the pressure was gone, the first joyous inhalation after release, the exaltation of riding a deluge of no pain, no pressure. Floating.

Another woman’s voice at a far greater distance calling me. I didn’t want to go. There were new sounds, sounds of wonder. Answers to questions I didn’t know I had somewhere here in the pulse of existence, but her voice kept calling to me. Plaintively weeping. I could make her pain go away if only I went to her. The cosmos called to me too, offering the lure of knowing all, seeing all, joining with the omnipotent. But her call echoed through the infinite, and I turned my head toward it.

The surroundings snapped back into focus, leaving Brenawyn alert and aware. She reached up to touch Cernunnos’ cheek. “Once I find Alexander we will discuss the terms of my servitude … 
Daddy.
”

The god covered her hand with his own, visibly shaken, “Daughter, time is in short supply. The thundering hooves o’ the Hunt come. I must return lest they be loosed upon yer world. I will send what help I can.”

“You would leave me defenseless here with them?” Brenawyn indicated the Oracle and Cormac with a tilt of her head.

Cernunnos clapped his hands, and time stopped. Brenawyn looked around, everyone in the clearing stood motionless. Beyond, birds, insects, leaves falling from the trees had stopped too, like a painting on a canvas, so realistic, that she wandered to a nearby bush to look closer at a sparrow that had alighted. She touched its chest with the back of her knuckle, and the softness of its feathers gave to her slight touch. She gasped and went to a nearby honey bee, its wings frozen as it had prepared to lift from the head of the wildflower. She studied it intensely, never before having the desire to look at one so closely. She had spent her most of her life avoiding them, afraid she’d be stung, sent into anaphylaxis. Now she could look without fear, see how beautiful it was with veined gossamer wings that looked insufficient to lift its fuzzy striped abdomen.

“That’s a useful tool,” she said when she straightened.

“It is the essence of sifting time. Ye’ll learn.”

“So what now?”

“Needed moments ta call for aid. I will call for Finvarra, our High King, who I will charge with keeping ye safe, along with Aerten and Caer Ibormeith.”

“The goddesses of fate and prophecy?”

Cernunnos nodded his head. “I see that yer education has begun.”

“Alex mentioned them not too long ago.”

“Their advice is often sought, though more now than in the past. Thaur is a tension, a strain, a sense o’ settling in for the task at hand, ‘afore the battle.”

“Let me guess, the balance?”

“Ah, so ye ken it.”

Brenawyn sighed, “I’ve heard too much about it, and then not nearly enough.”

“Lots chosen, sides taken, the war is about ta begin.”

“Call who you will. I have a need to get this done.”

It didn’t take long before three more arrived. A man and two women, similarly dressed in white flowing robes as if it was their intention, so alluring and fair, it made Brenawyn’s heart ache. The women she knew to be Aerten and Caer Ibormeith but she didn’t know which was which. One had no eyes, the other had no mouth, but the absence didn’t detract from their beauty.

Cernunnos said, “Let them touch ye, daughter. T’is their way o’ greeting.”

They gravitated toward her, each touching her on the heart, lips, eyes, and forehead, and then bowing in turn. Brenawyn returned the gesture, to which the blind one giggled.

Finvarra was the one who spoke, “Priestess, they would ask permission ta touch ye further. Will ye grant it?”

“I … I guess so,” responded Brenawyn.

It was the mute one that approached again, to take hold of her hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance, and then placed the other on Brenawyn’s abdomen. Her eyes grew wide, clouded over, and she began to convulse. Brenawyn reached out pulling the goddess to her to offer support. She eased her down and rolled her to her side as the seizure continued.

“What are ye doing, priestess?”

“I had a student once who had epilepsy. She had a seizure once in my class. It was much the same. All I could do was make sure she didn’t hit her head, and didn’t swallow her tongue—not much help in this case, but I remember the nurse turning her to her side when she got there. There wasn’t much to do after that other than wait for the EMTs. The rest of the students moved all the desks out of the way, and we just sat on the floor with her. The seizure subsided. I felt the tension leave her body. She wept then, I don’t know if it was out of embarrassment that she had an episode in school, or relief that she wasn’t alone when it happened. God, it scared the hell out of me.”

Her blind twin knelt down next to Brenawyn, reaching out to hold the hand of her sister. “Caer had a prophecy revealed ta her concerning ye, priestess. And yer gracious selflessness has proven a great indicator in this. For ye ken, prophecy is enigmatic, open ta interpretation based on the motives o’ mortals and gods alike. Ye are plain.”

She turned to Brenawyn, and even though she could not see her, she knew the goddess was seeing deeper. “Thank you?” not knowing how to respond to her last statement.

“Ye are without deception, so unlike yer kind. Ye’d act the same regardless o’ situation.”

“I’m predictable, I know.”

“Ye say that if t’is a curse.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“Ah, I kin what ye mean, but this is nay game of love, though love is involved. Ye are fair, as all great arbitrators. That will serve ye in the times ta come, priestess. Rely on that trait, as others will surely dae.”

“So how does my penchant for being fair play into interpreting prophecy?”

Thaur is nothing which she cannot be

The guardians of the five will be called

And give over gladly that which has been protected.

For All hope lies with her.

“Jesus, I hate verse.”

Aerten ignored her comment. “T’is nay great help, mind ye, but it does offer more o’ a slant ta one side over the other. Enough ta proceed with caution in a direction, but at least thaur is a direction ta be gleaned.”

“What is the prophecy then?”

Th’ destiny o’ hope from the day,

Sleeping, waiting, innocent until wha’ may.

So Chance and Choice intertwined th’ fates o’ those famed

To be rejoined and set right when legacy is reclaimed.

I ha’ erstwhile seen this woman taken and made with child,

By th’ Reliquary o’ the Druid sect, a man made wild

‘Afore she kent wha’ her Choice would mean

Her strength rooted in compassion, victory be glean’d

Th’ Woman blessed until th’ day two shall be made one