Dragon's Moon (37 page)

The Balmoral then led the way inside the caves to the Chrechte remaining. Lais held Mairi's hand, his heart full and her scent happy after speaking their vows. The others joined in a circle around them. Artair and Gart, who had
accompanied their laird from the castle, the Balmoral and his family, Boisin and one of his grandsons, though clearly too young to be the one the elder had used as threat.

The Balmoral performed the Chrechte rite of mating and marriage, prompting Lais and Mairi to speak vows even more binding than those the priest had done.

Afterward, Lais claimed his new mate and wife with yet another kiss that was most satisfying.

C
iara smiled mistily at the couple still kissing.

Boisin chuckled. “Now, that's how we let our mates know of our interest back in my day.
Will you walk with me for a minute?
the boy asked.” The old man shook his head, but then turned serious and faced Eirik. “Draw the Faol king's sword, if you please.”

Eirik gave Ciara a questioning glance and she nodded.

He pulled the sword from its sheath and laid it across his hands as he'd done in her bedchamber.

Boisin motioned to Ciara. “Take the handle, one hand above the other.”

Remembering what had happened the last time she'd touched it, Ciara hesitated.

Boisin patted her shoulder. “Do not fear the visions, lass. They will lead you to the stone.”

She nodded, bit her lip and did as the elder had instructed, taking the handle of the sword and moving it so the tip pointed toward the rocky floor of the sacred cave. The handle grew hot against her palms immediately.

“Lend her your strength, dragon,” Boisin instructed.

And Eirik's arms came around Ciara, his heat surrounding her like a blanket of safety, his hands curving over hers, promising strength if hers gave out. Peace stole over her and she relaxed against him.

Trusting her mate to keep her safe, her eyes drifted shut.

“Can you feel the presence of the stone in these caves?” Boisin asked her as if from the end of a tunnel.

She thought about it, letting her wolf connect to the spirit of the stone through her grasp on the sword. “I feel
the presence of Chrechte magic.” Profound magic. “But not the stone.”

“Good. For it does not reside here,” Boisin said in that strangely distant voice again. “Now allow your spirit to seek it. Do not fear whatever may come. You are safe in the arms of your dragon mate.”

She
was
safe, more safe than she had ever been. She could let the visions come and they would not harm her, nor anyone she loved.

She did as Boisin said, letting her senses seek outward as far as they would go in search of the
Faolchú Chridhe
. And between one breath and the next, she was in the cavern again, with the aged
kelle
.

The woman did not look through her this time, but met her gaze with eyes the same shade of deep green. “You are the one.”

No time or inclination for false modesty, Ciara dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“I am glad. There is both strength and goodness in your heart.”

“Thank you.”

“I am sorry for the years the dreams have beset you.”

“They are not your fault.”

“They are.” The old woman frowned, looking guilty but resolute. “I prevented you from finding the stone until you had a worthy protector.”

Galen had been her protector when the dreams started. “My brother was not worthy.”

“He was deceived by the Fearghall. He wanted to believe himself superior, as your father did.”

Among all the kinds of serpents, there is none comparable to the Dragon.

—E
DWARD
T
OPSELL

C
iara felt no surprise her father had been a member of the Fearghall. He certainly had ascribed to the first Fearghall's belief that men were more valuable than women.

Yet, she felt compelled to say, “I am sorry.”

“Their pride is not your sin.” The
kelle
sighed. “No more than my son's sins are my own. Though I am responsible for calling the
conriocht
spirit to him.”

“Did you know of the flaws in his character before you used the stone to bless him with the
conriocht
?”

The
kelle
shook her head, grief shining in her eyes. “I knew we did not need more protectors, but he was my son. His belief in his supremacy came after he learned to shift into the
conriocht
.”

“I am sorry,” Ciara said again.

But peace stole over the
kelle
's features. “It was a long time ago. What happened when I walked the earth no longer has the power to hurt. Even Fearghall has seen the truth of love and embraced it.”

Ciara couldn't help wondering how many centuries that had taken. “Where did you hide the
Faolchú Chridhe
?”

“Somewhere my son and those who took on his name would never have considered looking.” The
kelle
's sadness had returned and was palpable. “He was too fond of war, respected the power to kill above all others. He had no respect for the power to heal, though his own mate was a gifted raven who had no need of the sacred stone to heal the most grievous injury.”

“His mate was raven?” Ciara asked in shock.

“Yes, he killed her the same night he took my life.”

“I…” To say she was sorry was simply not enough. Not in the face of such treachery.

“His refusal to believe in the power of love over might led to his downfall and eventually the fall of the Faol.”

“MacAlpin was his descendant.”

“Aye, along with a great many good Chrechte.”

Ciara looked around the cavern, taking notice of the carvings and their significance. The story of a mighty warrior and his protection of the Faol was told in picture along one part of the stone wall. “Fearghall was not all bad.”

“No, he was not.” The
kelle
smiled softly. “Thank you for understanding that. It is yet more proof of your good heart.”

Ciara did not comment on that. “Where would he and those who came after not think to look?”

“Deep in the earth. He was convinced his wife stole the
Faolchú Chridhe
and she had an abhorrence for dark, small places. As many of the Éan do to this day. It is not a natural thing for them to go deep in the earth when they crave the sky, particularly not to a place that requires a long journey through a tight, dark tunnel.”

“Was it in the sacred caves of the Donegal or the MacLeod?” Ciara asked, not recalling ever hearing of a cavern that required such a journey to reach.

The
kelle
's brows drew together in confusion. “I do not know these names. Are they warriors of your pack?”

“No. They are the names associated with territories.”

“Like hunting grounds? You name them now, rather than warring over the right to them?”

“There is still plenty of fighting.”

The
kelle
gave a twisted smile. “I suppose there is.” She frowned in thought and then said, “The caves were ones the
kelle
used only for healing.”

“And Fearghall had no interest in healing.”

“No. He killed my sister priestesses in his fury at the loss of the stone, never to realize they were the only ones who might have led him to it or who could truly draw on its power.”

“Where are these caves?” Ciara asked, a sense of time running short assailing her.

“Do you know the most sacred caves used by the Faol, the Éan and the Paindeal?”

“The Paindeal left the Highlands centuries past.”

The
kelle
winced. “Because of Fearghall?”

“Yes. You did not know?”

“I know only what I have learned when called into dreams of the Chrechte since my death. It has not happened often and never before have I been able to converse so freely as I am doing with you.”

“Others claim my connection to the stone is very strong.”

“As strong as my own.” The priestess nodded as if to herself and then smiled reassuringly. “It will lead you to itself.”

“I hope so. The seer Boisin says if I do not find it, the Faol will all die from the Black Death.”

“It is coming.” A different kind of grief shone in the
kelle
's eyes. “You must learn to connect to the
Faolchú Chridhe
and save our people.”

“I want to.” And it was the first time Ciara had ever genuinely felt that.

“Then you will. The caves…perhaps only the Éan and the Faol use them now?”

“There is a sacred place I know of that is like that. It has been used as long as anyone can remember. Hot springs bubble up into a large pool in the cavern used for the mating ceremony.”

“That sounds like the caves of which I speak.” The
kelle
sounded both pleased by Ciara's intelligence and relieved.
“Two days' journey south and half a day going west from that place will take you to the healing caves.”

“Walking, or running as the wolf?” Ciara asked before trying to determine where the directions the
kelle
had given indicated.

“Running as a wolf. Walking takes so long,” the
kelle
said with a puzzled frown. “The wolf can run from dawn to dusk.”

Ciara did some quick thinking. That would be on MacLeod land, but not the sacred caves Talorc had spoken of. “Are there landmarks nearby?”

And would they still be there so many hundreds of years later?

“The healing caves are in a dell with a small river running through it. We called it
Kyle Kirksonas
.”

Hopefully Mairi would know where the
narrow river of the healing place of worship
was and what dell it ran through. Perhaps it was still called
Kyle Kirksonas
by the MacLeod. Place names did not change so quickly in the Highlands.

The
kelle
's face twisted in thought. “The entrance to the caves is in the steepest brae, a hillside entirely of stone. It looks like part of the brae, but it is not.”

The stone wall that was not. “How will we find it then?” Ciara asked.

“There is a place on the wall carved with our Chrechte symbol for healing. It is this high and about this large,” the
kelle
said, making a circle with her hands about as large as a baby's face and near her eye level. “You must press the center with one of the small children from the
Faolchú Chridhe
.”

“You mean the stones like the one you wear in your circlet?” Ciara asked.

The
kelle
touched the tiny emerald dangling in the center of her forehead and smiled. “Yes. One of the children, though the key to our healing caves is bigger.”

It was a good thing there were “children,” as the
kelle
called them, in the handle of Ciara's dirk and hilt of her brother's sword. Hopefully one of them was of the right size to be the key.

An insistent noise buzzed at Ciara's consciousness and the
kelle
looked as if she heard it, too. “It is time for you to leave this place and return to your world.”

“You will go back to wherever you were?”

“My spirit is always with God.” The
kelle
smiled, this one filled with a beautiful peace. “But when I am called to a dream, the form I had upon death is the one that comes.”

“It was an honor to meet you,
kelle
.”

“And you as well, princess of the Faol. Never doubt, we will meet again.”

C
iara went limp in Eirik's arms and he grabbed her, allowing the sword to fall to the ground.

The Balmoral picked it up and put it back in the sheath on Eirik's back. “Is she well?”

“I do not know.” And the possibility that she was not caused feelings inside Eirik that he was far from accustomed to experiencing.

Like terror.

Her breathing had grown increasingly shallow while she was in her vision, her color leaching from her skin until Ciara looked near death. If it were not for the faint but steady beat of her heart, he would be lost. As it was, he wanted to rip someone's head off, preferably any Faol who still followed Fearghall, since the one responsible for the loss of the
Faolchú Chridhe
to the wolves was far beyond Eirik's reach.

“She'll be fine. The lass just needs a bit of rest,” Boisin assured them.

“You have seen this before?” Eirik demanded.

“Oh, aye…the more powerful and prolonged the vision, the more it will take out of you. But a little sleep and some food and she'll be back to rights again.”

Eirik swept his wife into his arms. “Where is the healing chamber?”

He would leave the mating chamber for Lais and Mairi. Eirik wasn't about to attempt consummating their own marriage, until Ciara was fully recovered.