The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance (11 page)

“The vision . . .” said Ana. “It was more vivid than any I’ve ever had.” The old Oracle nodded. “I’ve had inklings of it, myself. What did you see?”

“The people,” she looked up at the old woman, “Our Druids, a king . . .” She shook her head in confusion. She was drawn to this king, to this
human
whose rugged features were more compel ing than that of any Druzai she’d ever met. “They are under attack.” The old Oracle frowned. “By what? Could you
see
?”

Ana swal owed. “Not enough.” But what she
had
seen was horrifying. Dark, malicious creatures

– little demon ol phéists – near Lough Gur, creating discord and aggression among the clans of southern Ireland. The màistreàs would never believe it, for the Druzai chieftain had banished those destructive beings from the Tuath lands ages ago. And yet there had clearly been ol phéists in Ana’s vision.

And they were being directed by some stronger power.

“I must go.” She started for the entrance of the Oracle’s cave, but the màistreàs reached for her arm, restraining her.

“’Tis too dangerous, my lady. There is much that a Druzai princess can do from the safety of our shores. Besides, you know very wel ’tis forbidden for Druzai to intrude upon the Tuath.”

“No. The vision . . . I am part of it.” She touched a hand to her head. She did not know what would be required of her, but she’d never felt so strongly about any of her visions. The King –

Rohrke Ó Scannláin – compel ed her in a way that was entirely unfamiliar. Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of his peril. “I must go.”

The Oracle frowned fiercely. “’Tis against Druzai law. We removed ourselves from Tuath centuries ago, when—”

“Aye. I know our history. Druzai magic makes it far too tempting for one of us to try to enslave the Tuath, in spite of al the protections we’ve taught the Druids.”

“They are merely wise men, my lady.”

True, yet some were more than merely wise. Druzai had mingled with Tuath, giving some humans magical abilities.

Ana had to go to Ireland, to Bal ygur near the sacred Lough Gur. She had to do what she could to find and destroy the creature that guided the vicious ol phéists.

And yet she knew that her cousins, the Druzai high chieftain and his brother, would object to her intervening in earthly affairs – which made it imperative that she act quickly and quietly before Merrick and Brogan learned what she was up to. They would forbid her to leave their enchanted isle, perhaps thinking they could manage the disastrous happenings in Ireland themselves.

But Ana had
seen
the visions. She knew it was her destiny to go.

“But your vows, my lady,” said the Oracle.

Ana pul ed on her cloak and started for the entrance of the Oracle’s cave. “My commitment wil have to wait, Màistreàs. There is trouble in the earthly lands.”
Two

Lough Gur, Ireland – 322 AD

Rohrke Ó Scannláin paced through the tal grass near Lough Gur where the standing stones would draw everyone in the kingdom on the morrow for the summer solstice festivities. It would be the perfect opportunity for Teague Ó Fionn’s men to execute their attack.

The situation was grave. Rohrke did not know if he could risk offending Áine, the sun goddess, by suspending her midsummer celebration. There was more than a fair chance that the Scannláin crops would fail, and the cattle would be barren in the coming season. And yet he could not al ow the festival to go forward, not with Teague threatening their borders.

Rohrke needed a powerful al y. And he would have one as soon as he wed the daughter of King Maitias Mac Murchada.

He should never have hesitated with the marriage. Sláine Mac Murchada was a comely lass in possession of a generous dowry, and Rohrke should have wed her the day Maitias made his offer.

And yet naught burned between them when their eyes met. No shock of awareness sizzled through Rohrke when he looked upon Sláine’s lithe form. She would never be the woman of his heart. Not that such a thing was crucial in a royal marriage. But he’d hoped to wed a woman he could look upon as something other than a sister.

Rohrke’s Druid, Sedric, had advised him to marry Sláine anyway. Her father’s al iance was far too important to cast aside such an offer.

Rohrke scratched the back of his neck. His clan had ruled this fine corner of Ireland for centuries, and there was no better land to be found in al the country. ’Twas no wonder Teague wanted it. But he would never have it.

Teague Ó Fionn’s aggression was entirely unforeseen. Only a year ago, Rohrke had al ied with him against the King of Uisnech, together defeating him soundly. Rohrke did not know what had happened to ruin their friendship. This antagonism of Teague’s felt very strange. He could think of no reason for it.

Rohrke felt the air cooling, and saw that Áine had nearly made her journey across the sky, and would soon lie down to sleep in the west. In the meantime, a mist formed over the grass and tal shadows fel on the land, turning Rohrke towards home – the vil age of Bal ygur.

The wind arose suddenly, and he felt the chil of night skittering down the back of his neck. A moment later, a wizened old woman touched his sleeve, causing him to jump.

“What are you about, crone?” he barked.

“Lost my way,” she croaked.

Rohrke jabbed his fingers through his hair. His agitation did no one any good. He needed to get back to the vil age and begin preparations for war. “Where are you going?” he asked the old woman.

“To Clynabroga.”

She lost her footing, and when he took her arm to steady her, he felt an odd sensation rush through his hand and up his arm. He released her abruptly. No doubt ’twas merely due to his nerves over Teague. “Ach, woman. Clynabroga is a fair day’s walk.” He looked at her bent body.

“Two, maybe three days for the likes o’ you.”

“Which direction?” she asked, as though he would al ow an old woman to begin such a long walk at that hour. Alone.

“You’l come with me.” He turned to glance north-east, in the direction of Clynabroga. “I’l find someone to take you there on the morrow.”

But when he looked back to her, she was gone. He searched in every direction, but she’d disappeared in the mist. Rohrke muttered a smal curse and took to the trail back to Bal ygur.

There was naught he could do about the woman now, but he hoped no one would find her corpse on the morrow. Not only would it bother his conscience for the rest of his life, it would be the worst omen possible. He needed only favourable portents as he embarked on war with Teague Ó Fionn.

“Ah! There you are,” said Geileis Riaghan, approaching him on the footpath. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty who’d appeared with her servant, Peadar, in Bal ygur a few weeks before. Rohrke wondered about her, but every time he started to ask questions about who she was and from whence she’d come, he lost track of his thoughts.
But not this time.
He was determined to keep his wits about him as they talked.

She took his arm and walked beside him. He felt potent and mighty when she stood alongside him, and he knew anything was possible. “Did you see an old woman walking this way?”

“Old woman?” Geileis laughed. “Who would be out at this time of night? Surely Áine does not walk these hil s at twilight.”

Rohrke masked his surprise. The thought of Áine had not come to him, but in times of old, the goddess had been known to show herself as an old woman at Lough Gur or Cnoc Áine. He hoped the crone was not the deity he would have to bed in order to become Munster’s legitimate high king.

“Teague’s men are gathering beyond the lake,” said Geileis, and Rohrke forgot about the old lady.

“How do you know?”

“Peadar saw them when he went out to hunt.”

Then war was truly imminent. His men must commence sharpening their spears and arrows right away, and he needed to order everyone to stay inside Bal ygur’s wal s. Áine would just have to understand the unusual circumstances this year.

He considered the terrain near the lake as they walked, and thought about battle plans. He wondered what Teague’s strategy would be. How many men on horseback would he muster? How many swords and spears? His anger grew with every step, and he hoped for nothing more than to spit Teague on his own spear. He was so preoccupied with his fury that he barely heard Geileis’

low chatter beside him.

When they reached the wal s of Bal ygur, it was almost ful dark, and Rohrke could smel the hearth fires that burned in every house. Sedric drew him away from Geileis, and the anger that had burned inside him during the walk home seemed to recede gradual y, as did his hazy thoughts.

Something was very odd, but Rohrke could not quite place what it was. He narrowed his eyes as Geileis’ henchman came, took her arm and strode away with her, glancing back at him with a vacant grin. He knew little of the woman and her servant – but when they were together, he never had the wherewithal to question her.

She was beautiful, with hair and eyes as black as the bottom of a wel . Her lashes were as dark as soot, and her skin shimmered like alabaster. But she did not stir him, which was just as wel , for Sláine Mac Murchada was meant to be his wife.

“My lord, we must talk,” said the Druid.

“Not now, Sedric,” Rohrke walked towards his stone fortress. “There is much to be done.”

“Aye, but we must try to understand what has happened and what Teague hopes to accomplish.”

“He wants our lands. Our cattle.”

“How do
you
know what he wants?” Sedric demanded, his frustration bleeding through his words. “Neither side has attempted to talk. We’ve always been on reasonably friendly terms with Teague. What’s happened to change that?”

Rohrke blew out a deep breath. He wasn’t sure. Except that his blood boiled every time he thought of Teague’s grin. He wanted to bash the man’s teeth in.

“Something evil works among us, my king,” the Druid continued. “Something dark and terrible.”

“Do not speak to me of elusive evils, Sedric,” Rohrke said.

“What we face is real. ’Tis solid and wel armed. We must prepare ourselves – see to our weapons and our horses.”

“Aye.” Sedric dipped his head in a slight bow.

“I don’t know what’s happened to destroy our relations with Teague. I wil wed Sláine Mac Murchada tonight, and then we’l have the forces we need to defeat him.”

“But, my lord,” Sedric said gravely, “you must first bed the goddess.” Rohrke clenched his teeth. There were many myths and legends surrounding the Scannláin kings, and he knew some of them to be true. But there was far too much at stake now to be thinking about goddesses and solstice celebrations.

“Then I wil wait. If my bedding Áine is meant to be, then it wil occur upon the morrow, when the goddess comes to Cnoc Áine to partake of our celebrations.” He only hoped Teague would not attack before then. Rohrke kept moving towards his stone fortress as Sedric talked. “My lord, would you consider sending an emissary to Ó Fionn? There might be a way to end these hostilities peaceful y.”

“Why would you think—” Rohrke stopped short at the sight of a young woman approaching from the east end of the vil age. She looked vaguely familiar, and yet he knew he’d never seen her before. A ripple of pure male awareness surged through him when he looked upon her, but something far deeper touched him when his gaze met hers. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” said Sedric. “She is not of our clan.”

“First Geileis. And now . . .” He was able to see her clearly in the fading light, perhaps because she was so fair, and clad in a shimmering robe of white. The gown hugged her curves and, when she pushed back her hood, he saw that her hair was as smooth and light as flax, and her eyes the green of a Druid’s flame.

A sharp pang of arousal shot through him, and when she’d final y come to stand before him, Rohrke had to restrain himself from stepping closer, from touching her, from tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his private chamber in the keep.

He caught her elusive scent, a fragrance that was entirely unfamiliar – perhaps ’twas even bewitching, for he’d never felt such an intense attraction for any other woman. He wanted her under him, felt desperate to be inside her.

Everything within him shuddered with need that went far beyond his body’s desires. He was not sure he understood it, and he knew he needed to maintain supreme control. Too much was going on in Bal ygur – from his imminent marriage, to Teague’s threats, and Geileis’ presence – for him to lose his head in a whirlwind of lust. For that was al it could be. She was the most comely lass he’d ever encountered, and he wanted her.

But he could control himself.

“My lord.” Her voice was low and seductive. She tipped her head in respect, but not obeisance.

Somehow, he’d known she would not bow to him. “I am Ana Mac Lochlainn, a travel er in need of shelter.”

Three

Ana paid extreme attention to her footing this time, for the solid, powerful presence of Rohrke Ó

Scannláin had a surprisingly potent effect upon her. It was puzzling, for she knew any number of mighty Druzai sorcerers, and yet this Tuath man seemed to be the only one who possessed the power to cause her to trip over her own two feet.

She’d encountered him at Cnoc Áine, of course, while in the guise of the old woman. And even then, she’d needed to absent herself quickly, for the heat of his body and the strength of his touch had made her yearn for something other – something more? – than the Oracle’s cave and the vows she would soon take.

Perhaps it was just because she’d never been away from Coruain, her island home. Her clan of warrior-sorcerers had left Ireland many mil ennia ago, so Ana had never encountered a Tuath human before. She couldn’t have known they possessed a kind of energy that would skitter up her spine and make her yearn . . .