To Ride A Púca (16 page)

She mouthed the words, “thank ye,” to Irial who smiled and nodded.

Soon the shelter of the O’Donovan forest eased the horrible feeling of being exposed but it also forced them to slow down a bit more. The trees here were thick and lush, a stark contrast to the violated forest they had come from. They slowed to a walk when Liam led them to the river and plunged into it. Cool water splashed up onto her legs, helping Neala focus and clearing her thoughts.

It wasn’t long before they reached the outskirts of Bren’s village. Not long enough. Only a few candlemarks of time separated them from the horror they had witnessed. The Danes could be upon them in no time if they wanted to be.

They paused on the road.

We have to do somethin’,” Kyla whispered, her voice raspy from crying.

“
Tá,
fight,” Cian said.

Kyla shot Cian a fierce, protective look that was filled with fear. It reminded Neala that the two were not warriors.

“Well, ye know what I mean,” Cian mumbled.

“I agree. We need to spread the word among the other druids. We have to be prepared,” Liam said.

“But druids haven’t been used in battle for over a hundred years. The others may not want our help,” Bren said.

His protest made Neala stiffen. Didn’t he want to fight?

With a sniffle, Irial straightened, projecting an aura of confidence and strength. Seeing it sent a thrill through Neala. Finally, she had found others who were ready to fight.  

“They won’t have a choice. This may be the last chance our people have at keepin’ our homeland. Spread the word, we meet tomorrow night,” Irial said.

Kyla gave Irial a nod and urged her and Cian’s horse into a brisk trot.

Did they want her at the meeting? Neala was afraid to ask. Could she handle it if the answer was no? She wasn’t sure.

“See you tomorrow Neala. Be safe,” Kyla called back.

Relief pulled a long breath from her. Cian waved and winked as they rode by. The fact that he could be so bold while hanging onto Kyla was almost enough to make Neala smile. A charmer he absolutely was not. Out of the corner of her eye Neala saw Ciara turn her nose up and kick her horse. The gray mare let out a squeal and reared slightly before bolting after Kyla and Cian’s horse. A flash of dark red hair drew Neala’s gaze to her right. Irial brought her horse beside Dubh and took hold of Neala’s hand. A powerful feeling of belonging flowed from Irial’s into her. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned, but in a good way.

“Ye’re one of us now. We’ll stick together through this no matter what happens,” she said.

Neala wanted to answer but she couldn’t, words were beyond her at that moment. Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Irial smiled and while it was sincere, it wasn’t able to remove the sadness from her eyes.

“I’m sorry ye had to join us at a time like this,” she said.

Neala shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not.”

A fierce pride and determination eclipsed the sorrow in Irial’s eyes. It made her look almost regal and utterly inspiring.

“I’m truly happy ye’re part of our Order,” she said.

“So am I,” Neala managed in a voice that sounded much stronger than she felt.

Irial nodded, spun her horse around, and took off at a canter. After casting them a wistful smile, Liam urged his horse forward and fell in step alongside her. Something tugged at Neala to follow but she resisted and turned Dubh to the forest instead. She had to go home. There were chores to do and animals to feed. The problem was, she was scared to go alone but she wasn’t about to admit that to Bren. She was supposed to be a warrior druid. Fear should have been beyond her.

“Do ye want me to drop ye off at your home?” she asked.

His arms tightened around her. “No way. I’m not leavin’ ye alone. But I would like to stop and take care of a few things.”

“But yer ma,” Neala protested. She didn’t want to leave him behind but she wasn’t about to let her own fear put Dierdre in danger.

“She went to help, same as yer parents. She won’t be back for a few days,” he said.

Of course. Dierdre was a healer druid. She would have felt compelled to go where she was needed. Neala should have known. Her heart drummed faster as she realized what this meant. He was coming home with her.

15

It wasn’t easy to be quiet while scrambling eggs but Neala did her best to try. Bren was still asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace and she didn’t want to wake him. After a long night of trying to convince him of why she should fight alongside him, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to sleep in.

Convincing him to stay out here instead of in her room with her hadn’t been easy. But at the end of the night, despite his obvious desire to be with her, he had acted like a gentleman. The worst part was, she had been too nervous to even kiss him.

“That smells great. Anythin’ I can do to help?” his voice sounded right behind her, making her jump. He laughed and muttered an apology that did not sound sincere.

“
Tá
, not scare the life out of me,” she said as she slapped him on the arm with a towel.

Laughing, he took a step back and held his hands up in surrender.

“There isn’t much to do except wait for everything to get done,” she said.

“Do ye mind if I get me mornin’ contemplation in then?”

His eyes drew her in until she realized she was staring. “Um, no. I mean,
tá
, go ahead,” she said as she returned her focus to the eggs.

“I’ll be back in a flash,” he said as he dashed for the door, pausing to scoop his sword off the bench.

Neala opened the shutters of the window over the sink so she could watch him. The eggs were finished by the time he appeared in the garden outside the window. Knowing he couldn’t see her, she watched shamelessly as he started going through the slow, deliberate movements of a form. His sword cut smooth arcs through the cool morning air, leaving traces of energy behind. She could have watched him all day but he didn’t take long. The shredded potatoes she was frying were just starting to burn when he came inside.

Cursing the ease with which he distracted her, she moved the pan close to the window so the smoke would be drawn out. Thankfully most of the potatoes were salvageable.

One eyebrow went up into his hair and a smile pulled at his lips. “Perhaps I should have stayed to help.”

“Very funny,” she said as she threw the towel at him.

Amidst much laughing and teasing, they managed to fill their plates and make their way to the kitchen table. The night’s argument and tension seemed to be forgiven. Silence fell as they ate, giving Neala time to figure out how she was going to ask what she wanted to ask.

“Will you teach me to fight with a sword?”

He chewed slowly and then washed his food down with a drink of milk. At least he hadn’t choked like she thought he might. Still, she didn’t like the look of deep contemplation that wrinkled his brow.

“
Tá
. Ye’ll need to be able to defend yerself,” he said.

Only part of that sounded encouraging.

“I don’t just want to defend meself, I want to fight. They aren’t going to stop at the Wicklow Mountains. And besides, they have to pay for what they’ve done,” she said.

Setting his mug down, he gave her a hard look that raised her defenses.

“Fightin’ for vengeance can get ye killed. There’s no need for ye to be part of any battle. If anythin’ happened to ye. . .” his voice trailed off as he looked away.

An argument had been on the tip of her tongue but his last words stole her ability to speak. Mouth open, she stared at him. It must have looked pretty hostile because he started stuttering and apologizing.

“I don’t want ye to get hurt. Ye mean too much to me,” he said.

“I do?” Neala asked, hating how small and insecure her voice sounded.

He nodded, looking oh so sweet and vulnerable. She both loved and hated it. It was irresistible and it knocked down her defenses. But her anger could not be placated so easily. As much as she liked him, she wasn’t about to let him keep her from who she was. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“All right. But please tell me ye aren’t one of those lads who thinks a woman doesn’t belong on the battlefield,” she said as she stood and picked up her plate.

 Bren stepped around the small table and reached out to touch her face. The gentle brush of his fingers sent wonderful chills through her.

“Of course not. I’m a Celt after all. It isn’t that I believe ye don’t belong there. It’s just that I don’t want ye there. I want ye safe,” he said.

He was contradicting himself which made her want to argue so bad that her jaw ached from holding it shut. If she argued again he might not teach her how to channel her energy through the sword and she couldn’t take that risk.

“But ye’ll teach me?” she asked.

“
Tá
. We can talk about the rest later,” he said in an encouraging tone.

Grinding her teeth against a reply, Neala nodded and turned away so he couldn’t see her expression. It frustrated her that he could look so irresistible while being so frustrating. Oh they would definitely talk about it later. He just wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

~

They didn’t get around to the talk that day. Neala was better with a sword than Bren expected so they practiced longer. Since her brother’s sword had come back years ago, Neala had been practicing with it as best she could. It had built her muscles up to where they could handle the weight. Her eagerness helped her catch on to the rest fast. The practice with the dagger hadn’t hurt either. Channeling energy through the sword was similar; it just took a lot more power.

Despite years of practice, her shoulders were burning by the time they stopped. After draining the last of the water from her waterskin, she belted her brother’s sword to her waist and threw a cloak on to help conceal it. It wasn’t easy to jump onto Dubh’s back with the sword at her waist, but she managed.

Bren gave her a disapproving look. “Wearin’ that out for all to see will draw attention.”

Letting out a snort, Neala put a hand over her hip. “So what. Ye’re wearin’ one.” She motioned to the sword at his hip.

“Tá, but I’m a man. It isn’t exactly common for a woman to go about wearin’ a sword.”

Blood pumped to Neala’s face. Her power started to stir. “For centuries Celtic women have fought beside their men. It’s not exactly a new idea, ye know.”

Dubh started to paw at the ground; the sound of his hoof stomping into the rocky earth rang in Neala’s ears.

Eyeing the stallion with caution, Bren threw his hands up in the air. “I know. I’m just sayin’, be prepared for it to draw the wrong kind of attention.”

A sharp laugh slipped from Neala. “That’s the only kind I’m used to.”

Lips pulled tight, Bren looked down. “I’m sorry ye had to grow up away from yer own kind. Most can sense that we’re different and they can be cruel because of it,” he said.

She didn’t see how he could possibly understand the cruelty of normal people, but she kept that to herself.

Bren approached Dubh but the stallion side-stepped away from him, ears pinned. Neala scratched Dubh’s head to distract him while Bren jumped on. Once he was settled they rode out to meet with their Order.

The place was deep in the forest of the O’Donovan clan. Last night’s rain had left everything glistening a bright green and made the place feel otherworldly. At least it helped keep the temperature down a bit. From the feel of the bright sun it was going to be a hot day. Close to thirty people were gathered, some sitting on rocks or logs, some pacing, all radiating a nervous energy that made the air thick and hard to breathe. It was intoxicating and suffocating at the same time. Neala had never felt so much power, nor had she imagined so many druids were left in the world.

The trees glittered with the wings of countless fairies and the ground crawled with brownies that were scurrying under foot. It was unusual for them to show themselves so freely, even to druids. The forest creatures were reclusive and didn’t like revealing their existence to anyone they didn’t trust. That they had come no doubt meant they feared this latest invasion greatly.

From Dubh’s back it wasn’t hard to spot Irial’s blood red hair in the crowd. Neala guided him in her direction. While weaving through people she noticed, they were all young. Not one of them appeared to be over twenty five.

“They’re all so young,” she commented.

“
Tá
. I was afraid that might happen,” Bren said in a disappointed tone.

The others of their Order were with Irial, gathered in a spot near the edge of the forest. When her gaze connected with Ciara’s, the girl’s eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth stretched into a tight line. Neala gave her the sickliest sweet smile she could muster.

The smile turned real as they arrived at the edge of the forest and she turned her gaze to the others. With a shift of her weight Dubh came to a stop. She slid from his back, dropped the reins so they dragged on the ground, and told him to stay. Bren landed beside her and took her hand in his. Warmth spread from his hand straight to her heart. It was almost enough to make her forget about their disagreement over her fighting, and was more than enough to make her wrap her hand around his.

Kyla’s face lit up as her gaze fell upon Neala and Bren’s clasped hands. She giggled and poked Irial in the ribs with an elbow. Irial smiled and nodded in approval.

“I see none of the elders made it,” Bren said.

Lip lifting into a sneer, Cian shook his head. “No surprise there.”

“We tried to convince them, but they said it was time to lay low, not fight,” Liam said through gritted teeth.

“They’ve thought that for the last hundred years,” Irial said.

Now Neala understood the level of tension that had the air buzzing. They were a bunch of young people and they were on their own. Bren’s fear for her was starting to make a bit of sense but she shoved the notion aside. They couldn’t allow themselves to think like the adults. If they did then no one would be left to fight for their homeland.