Born of Oak and Silver (The Caradoc Chronicles) (29 page)

In a large, elaborately scrolling hand the following was written:

The Sword of Light will be found once more,

Where the forgotten of old is found in the new.

Where the fountain springs amid les fleurs d’or -

Flowing forth from a lion’s mouth it will come to spew.

My heart seized as I read over the words again, looking at the formation of the words more than I was their meaning. This had been written by my mother’s hand. I put the recognition out of my mind and read the words again, trying to derive their suggestion.

“Bram,” I said
, unable to hide the excitement in my voice, “is this what I think it is? Is this telling us where to look for the Sword? ‘Where the forgotten of old is found in the new. Where the fountain springs amid flowers of gold.’”

“I believe it is,
” Bram answered matter-of-factly, a faint glimmer showing in his own eyes. “I did some research once I learned of your location. Apparently, Kamarina was the name of a now long forgotten city in Sicily—once found in the old world, but now found in the new . . .” He let it hang to add weight to his words. “The most difficult task will be finding the exact location of the Sword now that we are here. I’ve no doubt there are probably hundreds of thousands of golden flowers near a water source. But, at least we have something to go by, and perhaps we now possess the same information the Sidhe have been using to direct their search.”

“One can hope
, Bram, and in this case we will carry only that with us as we move forward,” I said positively. I then looked at Ayda, smiling the first real smile I had managed since Bram had begun his tragic history. Bram nodded, and then attempted to stifle a yawn.

“It’s g
etting late. Perhaps we should all get some rest,” Ayda said sweetly; her eyes were full of compassion for her grandfather’s clearly wearied state. “Grandad, surely you will stay with us?” She waited politely for his answer.

“That is sweet of you
, lass, but I would not wish to be a burden to ones so newly married as yourselves. I have arranged a room with an inn in town,” Bram said logically.

“Och, Grandad, I’ll not hear of it. I know we do not have much, but we do have more than enough for you to remain here with us. I’ll just be a moment, and then I’ll have you a most comfortable bed made just here upon the sofa. Really Grandad, I cannot believe you’d think that either Daine or I would permit you be anywhere else but her
e—especially since we have been so long apart.” Bram opened his mouth to protest, but Ayda cut him off sharply, her eyes wicked with amusement. “No, I’ll not hear another word about it.” With that, Ayda stood from the table and went directly to our room, where the extra blankets and pillows were kept.

I raised myself from the table
and began to stack the dishes and carry them into the kitchen. Bram raised himself in order to help, but I insisted that he sit. Ayda was not the only one concerned about his appearance; he looked absolutely exhausted. “Bram, how long have you been traveling to make your way to us?” I inquired, truly interested.

He thought a moment before answering
. “I left Strasbourg just after I received your telegram. So, it would have been five months that I have been in a constant effort to get here. I tell you, lad, it would not have taken me longer had I been asked to travel to the farthest reaches of Africa. You’ve landed yourself in quite the difficult place to find.” His eyes seemed to twinkle as he joked. It was so wonderful to see him like this once again.

“That said,”
he continued, “I find that this ‘Kamarina’ we find ourselves in has potential. Perhaps if I am to be staying with you, we should find ourselves a bit of a larger humble abode?” His eyebrow quirked in question as he offered me a smile.

“You’ll have to discuss that with Ayda,” I said with a chuckle. I knew that she would not necessarily mind being able to offer her old grandfather more than a couch to sleep on, but I also knew that she had dedicatedly slaved in order to get our home into its current condition. For all its shortcomings,
she loved this place. Although there was no question that she did love her grandfather more.

Ayda returned just then, brandishing a wide array of thick quilts to stave any potential of chill from Bram’s thin frame. “Here you go
, Grandad,” she said brightly, clearly overjoyed to be caring for the old man. “I’ll have this fixed up in no time and then we’ll be out of your way.” She walked past us, going straight for the sofa, and immediately proceeded to layer it in comfort.

“I suppose I’ll wait until morning then,” Bram said
to me, amused by his granddaughter’s fervor for making a bed.

“Morning for what?” Ayda asked absently as she placed another newly fluffed pillow upon the makeshift bed.

“Ah, it’s nothing, lass. Don’t pay it another thought. If neither of you mind, I think I’ll be off to bed.” Slowly, and with apparent effort, Bram stood from the table and pushed his chair away. Ayda and I watched as he shuffled toward his bed, and sitting on its side, removed his shoes and overcoat. Without another word he lay back upon the bed with a loud sigh of relief. “Ayda, thank you. I know for the first time in years that I shall rest well tonight.”

“You’re
very welcome, Grandad,” Ayda said humbly. She took my hand and began to lead me to our room, turning down the oil lamps as she went. The only light left in the house came from the dimly burning lamp in our room.

“Good night
, Bram,” I spoke into the darkness quietly. I heard his soft breathing, already indicating sleep, answer in reply. I smiled fondly, and closed the door to our room gently behind us.

“Can you believe all that?
” I asked Ayda rhetorically as I undressed. “We are all that is left.” Ayda was quiet, lost in her thoughts, wearing only a nightgown as she stood before the window removing the pins from her hair. I moved to her and wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing her neck softly. “It doesn’t matter,” I consoled, “we have him back, and we are together, alive and well.”

“Aye, it is good. He looks so worn and old. I scarcely recognized him when
he came to the door,” she admitted in a whisper, afraid that her voice would be heard and wake him.

I simply held my wife, resting my chin on her shoulder, breathing her in, as I reflected over everything that we’d just been told. It was a lot to take in.

“It will be good that he’s here. For all of us.” She turned in my arms, suddenly glowing. “Now, I won’t have to worry if he’ll be here to meet his first great-grandchild.” She smiled the most amazing smile I’d ever seen.

My eyes went wide as I realized what she’d just implied
. “What?!” I whispered excitedly, bending away to look at her still flat belly, which was covered by her nightgown.

Ayda just nodded excitedly, unable to remove the smile of joy from her face. “I think it will be sometime in May.”

I held her face in my hands, and crushed my lips against hers. That night I slept holding the wonderful promise of a bright future in my arms, secure in the all-abiding peace that we were a family once again.

The following May we welcomed a son, Robert Darragh Dalton.

I had not known what it was to feel helpless, terrified, and entirely unworthy until I reverently held my newborn son in my arms. I marveled as his tiny fist fiercely clutched my finger.
So this is what it is to be a father,
I thought, completely in awe of his tiny perfection. As I paced the floor, I realized that I had been incomplete until he was born.

In the following three years, we welcomed as many children. Two additional
boys and a perfectly precocious daughter named Charlotte. Bram and I simply adored her, with her curling, auburn hair and bright-blue eyes. We let her get away with practically murder—much to Ayda’s chagrin. And true to his desire, Bram had purchased and moved us into a large plantation home within a few weeks of his arrival without so much as a word of protest issued from Ayda’s lips.

Despite the exceedingly lively nature of three boys and one very spoiled girl, Bram
insisted on personally educating each one of them. Ayda and I were given no choice in the matter. And so it was that we watched, sometimes with winces of discomfort, as our elderly grandfather did his best to turn our little brood into model citizens. Surprisingly, it seemed to do him more good than it did them. Little by little, he was returning to the man we recognized.

We maintained our
pursuit of the Sword. Bram, in the little free time he had when not schooling, mapped and researched, focusing in on possibilities where the Sword might be hidden. I would then go and thoroughly search his proposed targets.

The Sidhe were still searching for it as well. 

For ten years we were happy in Kamarina. I was now 36, Ayda, 31, and Bram, well, I still wasn’t sure exactly how old he was. Our four children were 10, 9, 8, and 7. Those ten years were good years—the best I have ever known. The Fae were quiet, keeping to themselves, and we, amid the monotony and chaos of a growing family, were happy.

I cherish those
years above all else.

I awoke from bed with a start, sitting upright and
breathing heavily with the bedsheet draped about my waist and damp from a cold sweat. The night was dark and heavy, oppressive even. I looked around the room, searching for something, anything, but there was nothing that should have caused me to wake so abruptly. But despite not knowing why, I was filled with an unshakable feeling of panic.

I looked over my shoulder at Ayda. Sh
e was still sleeping peacefully. I slid out of bed quietly, pulling my pants on agilely before leaving to check on my children, Bram, and if necessary the rest of the house. I was relieved to find that everyone was undisturbed. Going downstairs, I checked the wards at all of the many doors and windows.

Everything wa
s protected and as it should be. I dropped into a large upholstered chair, rattled. I rubbed my weary eyes. It must have been a nightmare. I leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, fighting to remember my dreaming thoughts. I dozed.

It
was dark; objects that should have been distinct were blurred. I had no recognition of where I was. A breeze blew gently across my bare chest. Waves crashed somewhere not far from where I now stood. The ground was covered in a short grass underneath my bare feet. I inhaled deeply; the air was cool.

The night b
egan to grow faintly in light, as the stars and moon above in the sky lost their obscurity. Not a cloud marred the inky canvas. Slowly, everything returned to focus.

I
stood in the middle of a clearing that I now saw was perched on the top of a hill. Around me the trees and brush were thick and vital, feeling as though they were sentient beings. I shivered, as much from the cool breeze as the idea of being watched so keenly. Just inside of the trees, I could make out the ridged edges of standing stones. The hill sloped down dramatically to my left, sheering off into a cliff that fell away to the sea below. I closed my eyes, reaching with my Druidic senses to discover more than I could see.

I whirled around abruptly, finding myself a few feet away from a cloaked figure.
I drew from the Earth, preparing for a fight, but was met with nothing. It was as if the Druid were gone from me. I went for the dagger at my hip, but found it was gone. I had not put it there when I left my room, and here I wore only what I had come with—my pants.

The breeze blew
my dark hair across my eyes. The wind had no effect on my mysterious companion’s cloak. It did not move at all. Surely this was a dream. I reached out to touch the figure, to understand the meaning of his presence. I had only moved a few inches when a voice boomed from the cloak. It was deep, raw, and definitely male. “Do not touch me, lest you die in flame.”

I drew my hand away, feeling as if
I had already been burnt.

“Who are you?” I
queried, my voice insignificant and weak in comparison to the one that had preceded.

The cloaked figure did not
reply.

I studied him intently
. If he were regarding me as well I could have no way of knowing with his face hidden well within the shadow of his hood. Strangely, despite a menacing appearance, I did not feel as though whoever he was wished me any harm.

The silen
ce between us stretched, filled with the sounds of the ocean and wind, bringing with them a feeling of control and security, much like being at home with my loving father. I began to relax, and against my better judgment, to enjoy the moment.

Finally, the figure spoke.
“I am one who has come before, the one who wore your ring in the beginning. I am Máedóc Dalatún.” The moonlight caught his cloak, and I saw that it was not the black I had initially thought, but a deep forest green with golden threaded ancient runes throughout.

“
I am honored,” I said humbly, offering him a slight bow of recognition. If this were true, his blood ran in my veins.