Chapter 17 #2
Perhaps it was part of the land itself now, or had always been? Or was it alive and awake now because of the peace that Ard-rí Declan had spent his life promoting?
“There! The hill stretches before us—and aye! There! One man on horseback, watching, waiting. You can barely see him in this light!”
“Cillian’s man?” Deidre asked.
“I do so believe,” Kylin said. He looked at her. “I will ride ahead—”
“I am a warrior, too,” she reminded him.
“And if it is an ambush, you must lead our people to victory,” he told her.
“Aye!”
She quickly agreed, but she was glad she voiced the word instantly. Something had seemed to clamp a vise around her heart.
I was so suspicious of him for so many years, and now . . .
He is such a part of my life.
The magic in my life.
In so many ways.
She waved a hand to their men to hold.
To wait and to watch.
But the man was, apparently, a scout, watching for the warriors, be they friend or enemy, who would arrive at the scene first.
She could distantly hear the scout calling out to Kylin. And equally, she could hear Kylin returning the call.
“Come, time for us to take our positions!” Deidre announced.
She gave free rein to Donal and they raced across the open ground, catching up with Kylin, and seeing that as they had given away their position, the men behind the scout in the trees were plentiful.
And ready.
Cillian’s men.
“I’m not sure what y’er saying, man,” one of Cillian’s commanders was telling Kylin. “There’s valley here, the hills there. But you say they will come over the hills?”
“They believe they have men in the next set of hills, but Cillian will tell you—or had told you—that we ended that. But they’ll circle around, intending to join them. I think that they will assume our battle positions are as you would put them.”
“But—”
“His words are true! That is why I have positioned you as I have, and I had thought that I’d explained our tactics and position!”
The speaker was Cillian himself; he had ridden from the woods and come before them all.
“The ard-rí’s men are yonder, positioned and held. The enemy will not realize the force that he has come against,” Cillian said.
“And time for us to delve into the passageways,” Deidre said, looking at Kylin.
“Indeed.”
Ryan suddenly broke through the small and larger sets of warriors to speak to them.
“It will be just minutes! Rí Eion is behind me with his men and they have a small lead on the enemy. That’s because the enemy held back at the trail to the north. I believe that whoever the betrayers might be, the warriors in Jarl Swen’s ranks will meet up with them there, swelling the ranks.”
“Thank you, Ryan,” Deidre said.
“With us, to the passageways,” Kylin told him.
“Aye, Kylin,” Ryan replied.
Deidre slipped from Donal’s back, whispering to the horse, “Into the woods, wait for my call.”
“The horse is that good?” Ryan asked softly, his face a knot of worry.
“My horse is that good. Come, dismount, we delve into the ground.”
“Come, our mounts will lead when the time comes,” Kylin said.
“How can you be sure?” Ryan asked.
Kylin just grinned at him. “Magic. It will happen, trust me. Men, now!” he ordered.
Ryan was the only one who seemed worried about their mounts. The others did as ordered and as Deidre had known they would, their horses followed Darragh and her own Donal into the woods to wait.
Kylin gave a nod to Cillian and hurried to run toward the ancient passageways, Ryan and their ten chosen men right behind them.
As soon as they entered the passageway, the burial place of the ancients, Deidre felt as if something inside of her had awakened.
Does magic really live within the human soul?
Kylin glanced at her and she knew that he felt something, too.
“I’ll set men at the cracks that allow entry and exit. We’ll take the main, ready to attack Jarl Swen’s fighters as they come over the hill. There are a few cracks above. Ryan can watch, perhaps cause the demise of a few by causing accidents from below.”
“Aye, as good a plan as my brother might have had,” she said lightly.
And no matter how grim the circumstances, he smiled at her. “I try,” he said simply.
“I’m for the entrance, this side of the mound,” Deidre told him.
“I’ll join you there when the others are set,” he replied.
She moved along the passage, her sword guiding the way in the darkness. And as she walked, she wondered about the ancients buried here, about the hundreds of years that had gone by since man had come to the island.
She wondered about the souls of the rulers who lay buried here. And she smiled, thinking that it all seemed to be so much “magic” to her while . . .
The hills were sacred to their people.
Everyone felt something here, for the earth itself seemed to be sacred.
She felt her sword trembling again.
Shimmering.
She smiled. For it was her sword of light that allowed her to move forward, to feel the earth around her without fear.
With the sword, she knew, she’d never be in total darkness.
And yet . . .
What happens after today?
Do I return the sword to the earth—or to the ancient gods?
Maybe, since she’d once held it, the sword, or perhaps the light—a bit of Shimmer—would always be with her, helping her, guiding her.
“It is at hand!” she heard, and then, ahead of her, she saw the glow. The image she’d first seen when she’d fallen on the hill by the shore, was before her. Just a hazy light at first.
Light against the darkness.
“Shimmer,” she said softly.
“Aye, lass, here with you all the way.”
The hazy light became a form, that of the beautiful woman she knew to be Shimmer.
“It is happening as you showed us,” Deidre whispered to her.
“Indeed,” Shimmer told her gravely.
“You never showed us beyond this point,” Deidre said.
“Because not even we have the answers to what happens beyond this point. We can give you the weapons with which to fight, the tools with which to live, and then . . . then it is up to man to forge his own destiny.”
“I see.”
“The opening is just ahead. Take care on the rocks. Ready yourselves for they will soon gather in the valley and sweep over the hill.”
“And our positions are . . . ?”
“Tactical, excellent,” the mystical said.
“It is for now that . . . well, man is what man will be. Years stretch ahead for mankind. People will come, especially Northmen. They will become a part of the island, an important part of the island, and in time, they will be one with the people here now. And then, others will come. There will be conquests. One faction will win, one faction will lose. The island will be one. The island will divide. But a shimmering will come to some who have a shimmering inside in their soul, a realization that all are worthy of peace and love, and that kindness, from the highest ard-rí to the lowliest maid or farmer, is what brings the true light to life. For now, we did not see the future so much as we saw what souls might bring it to fruition.”
“Souls are eternal?” Deidre whispered.
“And that, lass, is what each man and woman alive must decide in their heart,” Shimmer told her.
“You saw my soul, but you can’t see the soul of the traitor?”
Shimmer didn’t reply.
There is someone else there! Distant at first, unseen in the darkness . . .
Coming forward now.
“Deidre, Deidre, Deidre! Talking to yourself, daughter of Rí Eamon? She of such strength and beauty that her father would not give her in marriage?”
The voice, in the darkness of the passageways, was deep and startling.
He was close. Not close enough to see . . .
She spun around and around, seeking the speaker who had somehow slipped through so close to them in the eternal darkness of the passageways.
But Shimmer had not left her.
She could see that the magical being had slipped toward the voice, casting her glow around the man walking toward Deidre in the passageway.
“Traitor,” she whispered.
“The traitor, the traitor, the traitor,” the speaker said. “Not the way I see it, dear sweet, precious, all-superior lass. The jarl is a great and powerful man. He will bring new resources to the island. Greater strength, greater trade.”
She could see him. And it was surprising, of course. But then again, discovering that it was any of the men they had known was surprising.
“Berach,” she said simply.
He laughed softly.
“You thought it was poor Angus. Just because the man has the guts to be angry, to be offended!”
“I never thought it was Angus,” she said. A lie? Possibly. But she wanted to keep him talking, to understand how he had come to be here—and who else might be with him.
“Oh, aye, girl, you did! He let his opinion of your father’s will be known! Women, my love, daughters—they are to be bartered and sold for the best in alliances. Think of it this way—had your father not nearly laughed in my face, I might not be here now.”
“Don’t blame my father for the fact that you are a heinous traitor to your land, to your people and even to yourself!” Deidre countered.
Her hand was on the hilt of her sword. Her shimmering sword of light.
Did the light come from the incredible soul of one who had come to the land before her? Was that the gift of the Tuatha Dé Danann? Inner strength? Belief in oneself?
“I don’t mind a wee chat, love,” Berach told her.
“You should. Kylin and a number of my father’s men—”
“Aye, indeed, they’re in the passageway, too. But fear not for me—they’re being taken care of. You . . . well, warrior-girl, I wanted you for myself.”
“Really? What an arrogant determination.”
“You may know how to fight. But I have you on weight, muscles and the all-important decider—strength!”
“Why?” Deidre demanded.
“I will be ard-rí,” he told her.
“Oh, I do sincerely doubt that,” Deidre said flatly. “Jarl Swen doesn’t go to battle to hand his power over to another man.”
“I will rule this island—he will be the island’s overlord,” Berach said with arrogance.