Chapter 10 #2
“Eion of Connaught,” Sloane whispered. “And . . . well, aye! Maybe. I admit to being intrigued. I met him when I attended Cillian at a meeting last year and he was polite and charming and he’s not young, but he’s not terribly old! Some are married off to aging men who already smell of rot!”
Deidre laughed. “Well, then, great! If it’s something you want to happen, perhaps you should mention that to Cillian, who, by the way seems to be summoning me to take my place at the table.”
“Go, go! It is wonderful to see you.”
“I believe we’ll be seeing more of one another.”
Sloane nodded solemnly. “We are all aware. And, at the least we will be together. United against a threat.”
Deidre smiled and left her, hurrying over to join Cillian and Kylin at the table. One of Cillian’s key warriors was walking away, nodding, as she reached them. He bowed his head to her, and she returned the acknowledgment.
She took her seat next to Cillian and he turned to study her. “I have given this all grave thought,” he told her.
“Of course.”
“I know that both you and Kylin have been through the passageways before—we’ve gone on walks there to honor those who came before us.
Many a great ard-rí is buried here now as well, in these great monuments on the Hill of Tara.
But tomorrow morning, we will go, and it will be the three of us and Daniel for this first foray. ”
“Aye, sire. But—”
“Ah, I’ve made you think that I trust my own people! I do. I do not believe that traitors walk among us. But we are viewing all that we can beneath, above and around the ground. And I believe that plans must be made by warriors.”
She looked down at her plate, wondering at the fact that he seemed to be taking her. He respected her, she knew, as he respected her father. She might have been trained; she might have a magical sword. But women were seldom considered to be among the most tactical commanders in a battle.
“When we go to Declan, I will be requesting a session with him and we will speak with him. We will tell him what we have planned, and how the rí by the shore, your father, will deal with what comes. I don’t know who remains with the ard-rí.
Our leaders come and go, seeking counsel with him at various times.
But it does not matter—we know there is a traitor.
We must tread carefully. Do you understand? ”
“Aye, sire, but we also believe that we will need more than my father’s and Sigurd’s warriors and your own. We are expecting—”
“An attack from the sea, yes. But with many of their numbers already having slipped in and, most importantly perhaps, a traitor among us. Therefore, with the actual tactics, hidden troops and formations, we will not share with everyone until it becomes necessary that we do so, and, hopefully, begin to glean who the traitor might be.”
“I understand, Rí Cillian. On the way here, we were beset upon.”
“By several men,” he said, nodding. “I spoke with Kylin. And you two have been very lucky. Skilled, of course, but lucky as well. This is the third attack that has fallen upon you. This time, as I told Kylin, I will send a party of men out to retrieve the bodies. Some time with them might give us a clue as to who sent them after you.”
“Aye, possibly, but many of our peoples are so much alike. Through the years, tribes have come here from the Northlands and from the continent, from Briton—how could we know if they are native to this land?”
“I’m not sure myself, Deidre. But there may be something.”
“As you say and thank you,” she told him.
“Thank your father. And Sigurd,” Cillian said.
“Throughout time, men and women have come and gone. We’ve had warfare and peace.
And yet it’s seldom that we’ve known that there was a force out there that desired to take everything, our legends, our beliefs, and all that makes us who we are.
A man’s birth means nothing—a man’s heart and soul are the essence of the life we wish to lead.
Now—” he clapped his hands as he stood “—our entertainment begins!”
A minstrel appeared with his lute and regaled them with tales of the ancients, relating a story of battle between the Fomorians and the Tuatha Dé Danann, a story that humanized the legendary folk who were believed to have joined the fairy folk now in the cairns and caves, still watching over the isle.
His story was good; he talked of the battles for power within their own ranks, and how they found peace among themselves before leaving the land to the people who came to be upon it while still creating the blue that sometimes ruled the sky and the emerald green that covered the isle.
Dancers came out and entertained in his wake and the rí’s warriors and retinue clapped and applauded and at last, the evening came to an end.
“Sleep,” Cillian told them. “Tomorrow will be a very long day. Daniel will see you to your rooms.”
Deidre remembered their rooms. And how she had left her own.
“Blessings,” Cillian told them.
They left the great hall for their rooms, the charming cottages where they had slept before.
Daniel talked about the passages as they walked, and the different ard-rís and leaders who had found burial upon the mounds at Tara.
“I’m quite certain that any enemy intent on taking the isle would come here,” Daniel said gravely. “This place is sacred to so many of us. Steal a man’s morale, and you do much on your way to stealing everything he has.”
“Indeed,” Kylin agreed. “Our advantage now? Our morale and our determination is great!”
“If we can only discover the identity of the traitor who would go against Declan,” Daniel said. “Aye, then, I’ll leave you. Sleep in peace here. Since your last visit we now keep warriors on guard throughout the day and night. Let this be a time you can truly rest.”
They both thanked him, and he left. For a moment they looked awkwardly at one another.
“It’s good, all very good,” Kylin said. “Cillian has taken this all very seriously, something incredibly important. And Declan believes in him—and our fathers. Tomorrow, we must study the passages well and determine our best defense.”
“Aye. It’s been years since I’ve been deep in the underground and it will be good.” She smiled. “Legend has it that the Tuatha Dé Danann and the fairies live within such sacred tunnels. We can thank them as well!”
“Indeed, we must thank them,” Kylin said. He let out a sigh and said lightly, “Good night, then, my, uh, beloved.”
“Um,” she said, groaning softly. “Good night.”
She slipped into her own room, shed her weapons and belt and, despite Daniel’s assurance that they were safe, she arranged them close lest she need them in the night.
She lay down. It was so important that she get a good night’s sleep. Yet, all she could do was remember how the dream had come to her here and just how terrifying it had been.
And how she had gone to Kylin’s room.
And how there, curled by his side, she had truly found a good night’s rest.
Well, he hadn’t suggested that she return. She smiled to herself as she tried to curl comfortably into her pallet. Kylin had courage tempered with intelligence, experience and kindness. But he was also moral and ethical to a fault.
She wondered how their relationship might have grown had their fathers not decided that they must play their game of being betrothed.
She wondered if it was partly because her father would always be her father, worried about her when she headed out across the country.
And if she was Kylin’s betrothed as well as his companion as an emissary, many men would respect the distance they should keep.
But one man out there is a traitor and I doubt anything would matter to such a person.
She tossed and turned and told herself that she had to sleep, that as they all knew, tomorrow would be a long, long day between studying the passages and heading out to see Ard-rí Declan.
And, of course, Cillian meant to find the bodies of the men who had attacked them on their journey here, hoping that by studying the dead men, they might discover just where they had come from, who had sent them out to attack Deidre and Kylin.
As she began to drift to sleep, she wondered if she would dream of battles, of great hordes of warriors screaming their battle cries and flowing over the verdant hills.
But as she began to drift to sleep, she thought that she saw her glowing fairy or angel before her, smiling, reaching out almost as if she would gently touch her.
She wasn’t sure if part of the shimmering was that of a pair of wings—it seemed like silver and crystal, all glittering beautifully and magically.
“It is a balance, always,” the creature of light in the midst of almost-sleep told her.
“Life. There is all that is painful, there is trial, there are the bad days. But there is goodness in the world, too, and there is happiness, and sometimes, it must be touched. Those who seek the goodness in the world must reach out and seize the happiness because those moments get us through all that is so trying and painful.”
The shimmering vision seemed to dissolve.
Happiness. She was supposed to grab her own happiness.
Well, at least in her dreams.
She smiled. She could dream whatever she chose. And as she sank deeper into sleep, she let the message of her fairy-angel seep through to her mind and her dreams.
In the middle of the night, she rose from her pallet, her smile still in place, the words of the mystical vision filling her with determination.
Happiness.
It must be seized when one could reach out and touch it.
She started to leave the room without her weapons. She reminded herself that Cillian always had guards on, no matter the hour, day and night.
Still, she collected her weapons and quietly left her room. She walked to Kylin’s door and carefully opened it.
He lay on his pallet. She wasn’t certain if he slept or not. She set her belt with its sheaths and weapons on the ground within arm’s reach, and lay down beside Kylin.