To Ride A Púca (7 page)

“But not with yer power, right?”

“Right.”

A thoughtful look came over Bren as he stared off for a moment. “Can ye control yer own energy at all?” he asked.

“I can use it to jump higher and I can push on things with it,” she said, hoping that didn’t sound too pathetic.

Bren picked her hands up and pressed his palms to hers. “All right, push on me,” he said.

Not wanting to disappoint him, she dug deep into her center, called up her power, and pushed it out through her hands and against his. She could see it leave her like a yellow and blue cloud and push him. It shoved him over onto his back.

“Oh no Bren! I’m so sorry!” Neala said as she reached for him.

He sat up laughing, his brown hair a tousled mess. “Don’t be. I asked for it. Yer power is strong.”

She cast her eyes down, not wanting him to see the tears his kind words had caused. “Thank ye,” she whispered. Her power wasn’t useless after all. The thought reverberated through her mind.

“Ye’re welcome,” he said in a gentle voice that made her tingle.

He pressed their hands palm to palm again.

“Can ye pull me energy into ye?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if he was serious. Was such a thing even possible? The look on his face was serious. Though she had no idea how, she tried to do as he asked. She felt his energy before her and around her hands but she couldn’t pull it to her. After a few moments she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Don’t be. Only Rectors can control the power of other druids. Yer power is very strong though, so I had to check to see if ye were one,” he said.

“Rectors?”

His eyes widened in surprise then his brow furrowed and his lips tightened. Tension sang through his power. It felt like it was crackling around her hands.

“Yer parents didn’t tell ye about Rectors?” he asked.

Neala shook her head and said, “
Nil
.”

Cursing softly under his breath, Bren rolled his eyes skyward before meeting her gaze. “Rectors are leaders of our kind, those with the most power. They used to lead druid clans back in the time when druids ruled,” he said.

The world swayed a bit and his grip on her hands tightened, acting as an anchor to a place that no longer felt solid. She was glad she was sitting down so she couldn’t fall. Everything went blurry for a moment, clearing only after a few deep breaths. This information was something she should have known, something she should have been taught despite the fact that they lived separate from other druids.

Had her parents really never expected she would meet other druids? Had her brother known any of this? No, she couldn’t let her mind go there. She had to stay focused on why she had come here. Well at least on one of the reasons she had come here.

“All right, so I’m not a Rector. What can I do then?” she asked.

“Ye can use yer power to increase yer strength and speed. Ye can also draw the energy of other things to ye and use it to feed yer energy,” he said.

“I thought ye said only Rectors could control other people’s power.”

Bren shook his head. “Ye can’t control other druids’ power but ye can command the energy in animals, plants, rocks, or even energy created by somethin’ like water, wind, or fire,” he explained.

A thrill raced through Neala. This was starting to sound more promising than she had imagined. “I can control fire?”

“Not fire, but the energy that it creates, and only to a point,” he said.

“Teach me.”

Bren laughed. It was a light, amused sound, very different from the derogatory laughter she was used to from people. “I will. But first we have to start with the basics,” he said.

Neala’s heart dropped. The basics didn’t sound like they’d help her against the Danes. “I can already fight fairly well. I’m better even than most of the boys me age.”

The mirth drained from Bren’s eyes and his face fell into a look that bordered on anger. That look made her realize how bad what she had said sounded. But she couldn’t make it sound better no matter how much she wanted to. Unable to hold his gaze, she looked down.

“I’m different, the others don’t like that. The boys have never been able to take advantage of me because I’m too strong. That’s the main reason me brother taught me how to fight,” she said.

As hard as it was to get the words out, she’d had to. She didn’t want him thinking she’d been raped. Though she barely knew him, she liked him and couldn’t stand the idea of him thinking ill of her. His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands, creating a wonderful sensation that thoroughly distracted her.

“I’m so sorry ye had to grow up like that. I think I would have liked this brother of yers. I’ll teach ye how to use yer power so no one can ever threaten ye again,” he said.

His gentle tone made her want to melt and his words started her heart to pounding. She looked up and met his eyes without hesitation.

“Thank ye,” she said with a ferocity that surprised even her.

A mixture of sadness and determination filled Bren’s eyes. “First ye have to learn to control your own power completely,” he said.

That was something she felt she had a pretty good grasp on. “Excellent. How?” she asked.

“Contemplation.”

Surely she had heard him wrong. “Contemplation?”

He nodded. Irritation coursed through her, making her power buzz uncomfortably beneath her skin. Since he was still holding her hands she was fairly certain he could feel it.

“I thought ye were going to teach me how to fight,” she said. They didn’t have time to sit around in a trance and turn their thoughts inward, contemplating their place in the world. With possibly only a week to prepare, meditating seemed like a waste. She gritted her teeth against the urge to tell him about the Danes.

“I am, but ye must learn control first. Lesson number one, the best battle is the one ye don’t have to fight. Learning control will help with that,” he said.

From the reverent way he said the words of the lesson she was guessing it was one he knew well and did not take lightly. But it only tried her patience.

“And where did ye get that from?” she asked.

“From me da. He taught me all about control and contemplation,” Bren said. The soft, vulnerable tone of his voice made Neala regret speaking so harshly.

Squaring her shoulders back and forcing a smile, Neala said, “Well then, I shall trust yer da’s wisdom. Teach away.”

6

Neala found that with the right motivation she was getting quite efficient at completing her chores quickly. The sun hadn’t even reached its high point in the sky when she used the excuse of wanting to pick blackberries to leave.

“Brilliant! I’ll come with ye. I’ve been wantin’ to pick some blackberries,” her ma said.

Desperation made Neala’s mind race.

“Actually ma, I’m meetin’ a friend to pick berries with. I hope that’s all right,” she said.

Her ma’s face lit up with a beaming smile. “Is this friend a girl or a boy? And where did ye meet them?”

“While I was out for a ride. And don’t fret ma, ye know I wouldn’t befriend just anyone. Ye’ll make me late and this is the first friend I’ve had,” Neala begged.

 Nodding, Cecily practically shoved Neala out the door in her enthusiasm. “Tis true, I don’t think I’ve seen ye befriend anyone in all yer nearly seventeen years. I won’t be a bother then. Ye go along, but be careful and stay on our clan’s land,” she said.

Neala hated lying, it brought her down to their level and made her no better than them. What would her brother think of how her relationship with them had deteriorated since his death? No, she couldn’t think that way. This was for a good cause.

The day was clear and warm so she left her cloak behind. Her riding breeches and tunic would be warm enough. As she walked to the barn she wove her long brown hair back in a tight braid and tucked it beneath her tunic in hopes of disguising her femininity a little. If seen from a distance, a fiann might guess she was a young man and leave her alone. She hoped.

Woven basket in hand, she and Dubh set off into the sun-dappled forest. What she’d told her ma wasn’t a lie, she was going to pick berries, she just planned on delivering them to Bren’s ma. Now she’d have to pick more to bring home. It bothered Neala that she couldn’t pay Dierdre for having healed her. The level of power it took to heal a broken bone was great and Neala had seen how tired Dierdre had been afterward. Besides, the kindness of strangers—especially those from another clan—was nothing to be taken lightly.

The blackberry briars weren’t hard to find once she got deep enough into the forest. The problem was the best ones grew near the river’s edge, well outside of her clan’s territory. She’d have to work fast or risk being discovered by someone she probably didn’t want to run into. Choosing an oak tree that cast a good amount of shade, Neala slid from Dubh’s back and dropped his reins. If anyone approached she wanted him close in case they had to run. Heedless of the thorns, he stuck his nose into the briars and began eating berries.

Neala moved far enough away that Dubh wouldn’t be able to steal her berries and started to fill the basket. They smelled so enticing and sweet that more than a few made it into her mouth. The warm sun and the sound of the river lapping nearby, soon lulled her into a comfortable mood. She even started humming an old song beneath her breath, one that the noisy birds in the trees above had reminded her of.

The basket was nearly full when the birds stopped singing. Her humming died and she cast a glance back at the trail. There was no one there but Dubh who stood on stiff legs, ears perked in the direction of the trail. The odd feel to the air could be her imagination but there was no way she was going to chance that. Besides, the fear coursing through her wouldn’t allow her to stay there and get caught.

A few tugs and she freed Dubh of the tree. He pranced along beside her, tail high in the air. The blackberry briars were so thick they blocked any access to the river. After traveling along them for a few desperate moments Neala found a spot thin enough for her and Dubh to fit through. The problem was that the ground plunged almost straight down to the river.

Eyes on the water nearly ten feet down, Neala slid down the fern-covered embankment. Her breeches snagged on something and tore. A line of pain sliced along her left thigh but it wasn’t bad, just a scratch. By sheer luck, or talent, Dubh made the descent look effortless and managed not to land on top of her. They ended up clinging to a narrow bank only a few feet from the water’s edge. Somehow she had kept hold of the basket and most of the berries remained in it. She couldn’t see up the embankment but she didn’t need to. The sound of horses approaching was loud enough to be heard over the slow moving river.

It sounded like several horses at least and they were trotting along at a brisk pace. Neala’s heart pounded so hard it almost hurt and she was afraid to breathe. There was no way anyone could see her down here, but what if they noticed where she and Dubh had crashed through the brush? Fear propelled her power through her blood stream until she was shaking from its pressure. Coming here alone had been a mistake. If a fiann caught her they would do horrible things to her, things she wasn’t sure she wanted to live through. Even if it was just members of the other clan, they would not take kindly to her being unescorted. Trespassers were often killed.

It felt as though her power were trying to tear her apart from the inside out. Her fear fed it. Energy started to leak from her fingers, surrounding them in a green-blue mist. That hadn’t happened in years, but then she had never been this scared.

Dubh nudged her shoulder with his nose, his forelock tickling her neck. The gentle touch had a calming effect which made the leaking energy stop and helped slow her thudding heart. She realized the pounding hooves were fading into the distance. Letting out a long sigh, she rested her head against Dubh’s. The stallion took the opportunity to poke his nose into the basket and grab a mouthful of berries.

Resisting the urge to laugh—more out of relief than amusement—she pulled the basket away from him and started up the hill. Dubh waited until she was nearly atop the hill before he leapt up it. Neala checked what she could see of the trail and listened hard before stepping out from behind the bushes. Whoever it had been was gone. Moving as fast as she could, she grabbed a few handfuls of berries to replace those that had tumbled out and the ones Dubh had eaten. Her haste earned her a few pricks and scratches from thorns. Better that than getting caught by the river alone.

Using her pent up energy to propel her, she jumped onto Dubh’s back and urged him into a brisk trot. As soon as they were on the trail she let him pick up the pace to a canter. His gait was so smooth and easy to ride that not a single berry bounced out of the basket. There were advantages to having a draft horse as one’s riding horse. Then again, a riding horse would have got there faster. Each drum of his hooves upon the ground got them closer to Bren’s house but it felt painfully slow. Her heart was racing far faster than Dubh’s pace and she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder.

After what seemed like an eternity, Bren’s home came into view. Relief poured through Neala, tearing a cry from her. The fear that had threatened to burst her heart faded as Dubh’s pace slowed. She had been stupid to make this journey alone. The fear made her aware of how vulnerable she was and made her feel weak. By the time she put Dubh in the coral both her breathing and her power were back under control, but it had taken a lot of effort.

She found Bren’s ma around the back of the cottage working in her garden. Such a simple, peaceful scene made her heart hurt. On one hand she felt like Dierdre deserved to know about the threat that had invaded their shores, on the other, she didn’t want worry her unnecessarily. If her parents were right then there was no danger. The battle of the two possibilities made her sick to her stomach.

“Neala, it’s so nice to see ye again,” Dierdre called out as she waved from her crouched position among a group of herbs.