Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) (8 page)

It let out a muffled shriek that struck her to her bones. With one loud thud, the largest man struck it about the head with his club and it fell to the earth in a crumpled mess, knocked clean out.  It took all five men what seemed hours to load the tangled mess upon a flat wagon pulled by four horses.   Light from the moon reflected off of the shore line and Daenal could see it was another dragon. A large male dragon with curled horns and a wingspan she dared not think about. Its snout was bound up so that it couldn’t breathe fire and it was, therefore, at a severe disadvantage. How in the world had it managed to get itself caught by mere soldiers she wondered?

And then she saw them. There they were, the two smaller dragons hiding in the brush, not far off, watching as their champion was being carted off. He must have been protecting his family, the larger one. The King Dragon, they had captured a King Dragon! And now, his Queen and his progeny were alone, hiding in a cave atop the falls.

Is that how the blue dragon was wounded? Had they come to Daenal for help with the wound, or for help freeing their King? Daenal awoke from her haze and stood upright. Still dizzy, she made her way back towards the fiery stone where the remnants of the hare lay, and she stood there still staring into the solemn, molten eyes of Red, the Queen Dragon. For long moments they gazed at one another, she, a mere mortal, and she, a mere creature and they felt for one another. They were both apart from their loves, in unfamiliar territory, with nowhere to go. And they just stared, knowingly.

***

He was kicking again, and he was serious about something. Darina knew he was a boy, but couldn’t quite explain to anyone just how she knew. Of course, she was frightened to say as much, especially to her husband, Patrick.  He already thought she was daft, and they were having issues of their own already.

The noon day sun was high in the sky and cast a bright glow across Darina’s rosy face. Shielding her eyes with her hands, Darina moaned as the cold white hands pressed hard against her stomach. Vynae pulled Darina's thin linen shift back down over her swollen belly and sighed. The elder healer was concerned about the pregnancy and wasn’t tactful about it either.

“Darina,” she sighed, “Eets gonna be a large one,” Vynae breathed heavily. “I can’t see how ye have much longer, although by yer own calculations ye be a claiming another fortnight.”

“Aye,” Darina signed, patting her belly as she rose from the sturdy wooden bench.  Straightening her over robe as she stood, she grasped the edge of the bench with her left hand when she stumbled forward.  She was
ripe
, like her sister Dervilla would say, and it was getting harder just to breathe, let alone stand up.

“Well, ye know,” continued Vynae, “I can make ye a brew that will bring it on sooner, and save ye the struggle, lass.  That one there, she pointed with her bony index finger, is gonna be like passing a camel through the eye of a needle, she half-laughed, half-warned.

Darina grimaced and fiddled with the torque around her neck, stroking it for good luck as she remembered her cousin Kyra’s difficult delivery. The twins had been hard on Kyra, but Kyra was a strong one and the twins were healthy, after all. That was really all Darina needed to know.

“Yes, I think he is gonna be large, like Patrick,” Darina agreed.

“He?” chuckled Vynae. “Ye think it’s a boy, even after all these years with the Burke curse? Darina, ye know a male child hasn’t been born to an O’Malley family in many, many years. Odetta Burke saw to that, milady.”

“Except for me brathair Braeden, remember?” Darina interjected sarcastically.

“Aye, yes, except for Braeden,” Vynae agreed.

“And – Aiden,” she added, referring to Kyra’s twin son.

“Aye, that’s right milady,” Vynae agreed, “But those bairns were conceived elsewhere Darina.  Yer brathair was conceived in Scotland and Aiden most likely was conceived in Burke lands.”

“Aye, and Patrick and I have been elsewhere as well,” Darina added, glaring purposefully at the nosey woman, “’Tis not like we haven’t stepped outside our territory ever, Vynae. Besides, Odetta is in our charge now, any curse that may have been, having long since been broken, I’d say, wouldn’t ye?”

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t know,” Vynae added feigning disinterest. “I should like to see ye, every other day now, for at least the next six days, more as it gets closer. I’m thinking as big as this ‘boy’ is – ye waters will break first and then we’ll be in the thick of it. Does Patrick plan on being with ye?” she asked hesitantly. “Ye young ones, ye do it different than I’m accustomed.”

“Of course, he does,” spat Darina, “He was there for the conception; he’ll be there for the birth. He was there with me cousin Kyra, why wouldn’t he be for me?"

“Well, I didn’t rightly know that, seeing as how I wasn’t there for Kyra’s delivery.”

“I’m sorry, Vynae,” she said, “I forgot ye were asked to leave. It was a difficult birth and Parkin was terrified, I can’t think of any other reason you wouldna’ be welcome to attend to the matter. Patrick’s brathairs, well all of them, the whole lot of them MacCahan boys, they are stubborn as wild mules. Ye will most definitely attend to mine, will ye no’ though?”

“Of course I will Darina, I attended ye own birth meself. I wouldna’ think of leaving ye to anyone else.”

The sound of pounding footsteps down the hallway broke the conversation and Kyra burst into the chamber. “Darina, ye must come at once, at once.”

“What is it Kyra,” Darina asked, looking puzzled as her face switched between Kyra and then back to Vynae.

“’Tis Fanai” Kyra gasped, “He hasno’ returned? Yer hound, he hasno’ returned  and Jamie has called a council meetin'. Parkin is gathering his men from the ship and they are all set to leave, Patrick needs ye at once.”

“Aye,” Darina replied, “I’m close behind.”

N
INE

Burke Lands

The trio was nearly exhausted, having run, walked, trudged and dragged themselves through the forest for the past five hours.  They had still not reached the border between O’Malley lands and Burke lands and now their hunger was getting the better of them. The two lasses sat down beside a babbling brook, intent on resting, regardless of what their slave-driver for a self-appointed leader had to say about it. Splashing water all over her face, Naelyn lay back down against the low brush and soaked up the sun.

“We
must
be getting on,” Braeden said for what seemed the hundredth time in the previous ten minutes.

“I don’t rightly care what ye think about it ana'more,” Orla quipped, “We need to rest and eat something, Ana'thing – and there is no way ye can be a ’carrying the both of us. Especially since ye carried her for miles already,” she said nodding at Naelyn.

“How did ye happen upon me ana'how?” asked Naelyn to Braeden.

“Well, I was gathering some wood for a fire and I heard yer voices, talking real low like and I watched as the lanthorn went out. So, I jest sat there behind a bush and waited to see what would happen. It appeared ye might need some help so I waited and watched and when the moment was right, I grabbed ye.”

“Why on earth would ye help me Braeden, after all I did to ye? After putting ye in the dungeon, and nearly sacrificing ye with Odetta in the ceremony and all?  I figured ye might wish to kill me instead. I certainly would,” Naelyn whispered. It had only been a few months since their last meeting and it still weighed heavily in Naelyn’s mind. All the things she had done for, with and on behalf of Odetta Burke. But that was then and this was now, and Braeden had just helped her escape the Roman soldier and her eventual placement in the catacombs with that
thing
. She couldn’t even imagine it and wondered if Braeden had heard everything that had been said.

“Well,” said Braeden, rubbing at his chin and tugging on his day’s old stubble, “I had that thought, but then I remembered all the good things that Orla said about ye, during the council meetings and the investigations and such. I figured ye may be put to good use somehow.”

“Orla said good things about me?” Naelyn asked, surprised.

“Aye, she did,” returned Braeden, nodding his head and chuckling at the sound of Orla’s snoring. “Said ye were much like a second mathair to her, and that means something, especially for Orla; who hasn’t had much of a mam at all.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that Braeden, I really do care for her.”

“But ye know what I really want to know about don’t ye?” he asked.

“What do ye mean?”

“Ye know, I want to hear about
eldrago
,” he said with inflection, making a point.

“I was afraid ye heard,” Naelyn sighed. “I don’t know much about dragons Braeden, only what I’ve read, which is probably jest the same stories that ye have read. Mostly fables and fairy tales, really, I’d know idea they actually existed.”

“Why was the solider taking ye with him then if ye don’t know ana'thing about ‘em?”

“That’s the thing Braeden, I don’t rightly know. I guess Easal thinks I may be able to do something with a wild creature that he can’t. He has it locked down in the catacombs. I’m afraid to think what might happen if they don’t let it loose soon.”

Orla shot straight up from her half-slumber on the bank of the brook.  Scratching at her disheveled hair, she turned to face Braeden, “Braeden, ye mean to say that it worked?”

“What?” he asked.

“The summoning - ye mean to say ye actually summoned a dragon and Easal has it in the catacombs?” Orla asked.

“Ye summoned the dragon?” Naelyn gasped, pointing absent-mindedly at her adolescent savior. “Braeden what have done? How on earth did you summon a dragon? Oh! By the gods! Ye have awakened a dragon! Do you know? Is it a King Dragon? Oh, by the gods, Braeden! What have you done?” she shook her head and began pacing back and forth in front of the bubbling water, nearly tripping over Orla in the process.

“How am I to know what manner of dragon they have caught? I haven’t seen it – and if I had, I don’t know that I would know what kind it is,” said Braeden. “I’m not a dragon master.”

“What’s a king dragon, Naelyn?” Orla interrupted.

“We need to be going now,” said Braeden motioning for them to follow. Pushing aside the high brush that just bordered the shoreline, he ventured into the sandy area a bit. Now that the sun was up, sentries wouldn’t find it unusual for people to be in the area, and it was less likely they would be stopped or questioned. Traveling along the shoreline would make their journey easier and bring them close to some piers from which they could maybe do some fishing. “I think we can stop in an hour or so, and see what we might catch with this net I found.”

“What’s a King Dragon?” Orla repeated this time softly, to Naelyn.

“Shhh…,” said Naelyn, waving at Orla, "Not now.”

***

“They’ve been whispering like that for hours,” Kurt offered smugly. “I can’t say as how I ken anathing about what they do or do not know about dragons or anathing else for that matter,” he shook his head in aggravation.  “I get that they are both scribes, brothers and druid priests,” he added, motioning towards the table where Airard and Lucian sat conversing quietly with Patrick. “But what in the world do ye ‘spose it means to be a Dragonian?”

“I ‘ave no idea meself,” Tragus remarked slowly. “Never heard tell of it. Have ye?” he asked, grunting towards Flynn Montgomery, Chieftain of the O’Malley militia and Patrick’s Scottish cousin.

“Aye,” Flynn grunted back, keeping his eye steadily locked on Dervilla O’Malley, who was seated halfway across the great hall breaking fast with her sister.

“Well,” quipped Kurt.

“Well,” added Tragus.

“Well, what?” grunted Flynn.

“He’s no’ paying ana attention a’ all to us,” Kurt remarked, slapping his hand down on the hard wooden table in front of Flynn. “Are ye?” Kurt added.

Flynn jumped, spilling his mug all over the platters of pork in front of the men, and turning over his stool in the process, landing belly up against the hard stone floor.  The great hall erupted in laughter and servants scurried about to clean up the mess.  Kurt reached down an arm to help him up while Tragus straightened the stool for him, inviting him to give it another try.

“Ye sure have yer mind on other things, do you no’?” asked Tragus, slicing a knowing glance towards Dervilla and back again at Flynn.

“I suppose I do,” Flynn admitted, straightening his tartan about his shoulders.

“They’re talking about ye, milord,” said the maidservant to Flynn, as she refilled his mug and set it back down next to his fresh platter. “Verra interesting conversation if ye ask me,” she added coyly before turning towards Tragus’ mug.

“What do ye mean?” chuckled Kurt, “They’re talking about Flynn?”

“Aye,” she replied, “About Flynn and he’s betrothed, mind ye. 'Bout them both even.”

“Aye, I ken what ye are a’saying,” said Tragus.”But Dervilla O’Malley, the Lord’s sister-in-law, she is no’ Flynn’s betrothed,” he remarked gesturing towards Dervilla’s table.

“Do ye think me dense? Of course, everyone knows Dervilla O’Malley ‘tis, not his betrothed. She has might near a year going on her military commission yet, she can’t be getting a’married
and
serve in the militia.”

“Flynn has no betrothed. What are ye talking about?” ask Kurt.

“I think they said the lass's name was Aisling or some other such something like that. Anahow, I’ve got to be serving some other tables. I suggest ye ask Flynn there for clarification,” she added pointing at a pale white Flynn Montgomery. “If anyone should know about Flynn’s betrothed it should be Flynn.”

T
EN

Burke Lands

She sat in the corner on the wobbly stool provided by her host and peeled potatoes in silence.  It was a chore she had only recently become accustomed to, and she dreaded it. She knew better than to complain, it wouldn’t help anyway and at least she would be able to confirm that the food she would eat was clean. She was still sore from tossing and turning on the floor the night before, but she was feeling stronger every day. The abrasions on her face were nearly healed, thanks to the salve administered by the portly Missus Edwards. The black eye would most likely take a little longer. It didn’t appear the scratches would leave a permanent mark and for that she was thankful. She had survived most of her life on her looks alone, and lately that was literally all she had left.