Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (43 page)

"Alright. What's
Cachaileith na Sith
?" he asked curiously, wondering how she would explain the place her father had called sacred. Reaching out to touch her arm, he stopped himself and let his hand fall, not wanting to try her patience after his earlier cruelty. Truth be told, she frightened him. Badly. The change in her was too obvious, the utter blackness of her eyes reminded him of a black hole, her ability to heal, the way she'd healed herself of his selfishly inflicted wounds was just the very tip of what could only be a massive iceberg... and he was the Titanic.

Ailill met his gaze with alacrity, a smile hidden in the depths of her oddly darkened eyes. "The doorway, of course, which leads into
Tir na N'Og
, but it is much more than that, Jacob. It will take me back to myself in the blink of an eye." She blinked, showing the man exactly how fast that would be, and he frowned.

"You know," he said slowly, sitting back with a surreptitious glance at his twin. He studied her with avid interest, noting the way her cheeks pinkened prettily before she looked away. "I can't say whether I believe you or not. Y'all sound a bit... crazy. The whole lot of you."

Unable to hide the frown his words caused, Ailill mentally ticked off one strike against the men. "I am sorry you think so," she said softly, her fingers drawing circles over the stone well of the pool. "That is a disadvantage you've put me under. I had thought you liked me, perhaps loved me a bit, even; though, honestly, I wouldn't want me either if I knew the truth. The full truth. And, besides that, I cannot compete with what you may or may not share. It quite simply isn't in me. However, I, and not one of my people, are crazy, as you say. Perfectly sane, the lot of us, just a wee bit... enchanted, aye?"

"Enchanted?" Jacob's head shook in disagreement. "Nope. Weird, I'll give ya, but not enchanted."

"Och, you've no idea," she hissed softly. "Strike two."

Taken aback, Jacob scowled at her. "Whatever," he muttered.

"Aye? I believed you'd come to know me better than this. Not only did I think you like me," she ground out, angry. "I had also thought you wanted me. But no matter; you will." Her tone was all seriousness; it cut through Jacob like a forboding blade, so dark with certainty that he shuddered.

Micah watched her with a restless calm, his eyes not hiding his thoughts very well. "How do you know whether we want you or not?" he asked, his voice still rough with his earlier bout of screaming, but sounding closer to normal by the minute. Ailill met his intense gaze with one that matched.

"
Do
you?"

"Do I what?" There was a light in Micah's eyes, almost a flirtatiousness that drew her compulsively closer, though she fought it. He stared at her, wanting, selfishly, to hear the words from her own lips.

"Do you want me?" She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her mind on the important task she had set on her plate. "Do you honestly believe that I can compete with your twin in your heart?" Much to her chagrin, Ailill looked from one to the other and blushed.

"Do
you
honestly think that either of us can compete with that perfect, beautiful, Scottish giant, Tiernan MacDuff?" Micah said in the same vein.

In frustration, Ailill stood quite suddenly, turning away from the look of blatant desire in Micah's eyes, the wanting he had spoken of the day after they had gone further than just kissing for the first time. A deeply buried, completely alien, sense of jealousy made her wonder if the wanting extended to his twin, though she refused to believe such thoughts, whether she had voiced them or not. Turning back to the dark heads of the men,
her men
whether she wished it or not, Ailill said, "this is
not
a competition. This is my life! I must go back; there are obligations which I must fulfill whether you like it or whether you hate it. Whether you want to be with me or be rid o' me. Do you wish to join with me in a blood vow or not? Either way, I will be leaving soon. I am a warrior. I go to battle while you stay within the relative safety of this mountain's shadow! Aye," she snarled, full of contempt at seeing the looks of surprise mirrored on the handsome faces before her. "The safety here is not but a ruse; an
enchantment
; battles rage throughout the world. An insane mass of survivors, the Rogues, intent on bringing the last dregs o' mankind into the role of slaves to a Dark Lord...
an blaigeard, an cluipear
. It would not matter, except that so many of those involved are a part o' me, a wee bit
enchanted
. I have no choice but to fight for my own blood."

It was easier to feel anger toward the two men; the thought of leaving them to their own devices made her heart ache with an unavoidable despair. With one last searching glance, Ailill slowly turned away, stalking off into the wood for a few moments of much needed privacy. When she returned, awhile later, the two were sitting close, their dark heads bent together, so deep in a whispered conversation that neither noticed that she was there. Out of a sense of propriety, Ailill stood on the perimeter of the small clearing, giving them their moment, their chance to weigh the odds of what she had proposed,  though she had purposely left out nearly every bit of telling information regarding herself. Studying the two unawares, she noticed that their usual interaction, the intimacy which was a normal part of their odd relationship, was somewhat stifled. They were not sitting close enough to touch as they usually did; the long, muscular arms did not even brush against one another. It seemed strange to her, seeing a wall being built up that she had started, though that had not been her intention. Ailill decided that she did not like it one bit.

Both dark heads, one striped with a stark white bandage, came up at once at her polite throat-clearing, the only sound that Ailill could think to make that would not curdle each man's blood, when they had still not noticed her after a good ten minutes had passed.

"Do ye wish your wounds to be healed?" she said by way of greeting as she sidled cautiously closer, noting the dark intensity of each man's gaze, the look of expectation. "I believe it would be in your own best interest, whether you wish to accompany me or no."

Micah held her gaze long enough for Ailill to see that same spark of wanting in the dark depths of his eyes. When he smiled, she truly felt as if her heart were about to become a warm, gooey puddle at her feet. "Will it hurt?" he asked warily, trying not to show how frightened he was. Jacob could heal him, he knew, though it might take some time. The pool of which Ailill had so casually spoken was beside the strange, otherworldly doorway. He remembered the tang of sulfurous water in the warm, humid air of the chamber below the earth; and he remembered the darkness; a smothering dark where he had not been able to see his own hand in front of his face after the torches of the three people had passed through the doorway. It had been the most frightening moment of his life, after being set upon by the shimmering giant, who had kindly demanded that he give Ailill up, or else. Tiernan had not been a dream shared by the two brothers, though neither would admit any different. The demands of the man were not likely to be met, as long as Micah had any say in the matter, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might be able to hold onto this girl for at least awhile longer. Blood vows were serious business, as he had just explained to Jacob; far more binding than any simple matrimonial ceremony, if all that he had read about them was even close to the truth. It seemed a quick and simple means to an end, avowing her to him with a few drops of blood.

"No, Micah. You will feel healthier than you ever have, after," Ailill answered truthfully. "Though you may have to bathe more than once in the healing waters, given the extent of your injury." Watching his face, so full of indecision, Ailill sighed softly, the sound drawing the attention of both up to her face. "I wish you would...mphmm...what I mean is, I am asking ye to please, at least come and see it for yourselves. Yon fairy pool. You may wish to use it occasionally, after I am gone from here, though you cannot bring any who are not of the Chosen into the mound; it would have to be only the two of you." A shadow crossed her features, darkening her eyes with intense feeling briefly before she looked away, retrieving her pack and rifle from beside the well. Both men stood slowly and followed her toward the massive stone mound, the entrance, a different one than Micah had used before, unseen until Ailill pulled aside a curtain of deep green pine boughs, revealing a jagged rent in the granite facing which led into a pitch black tunnel.

Turning back, Ailill pulled a pair of long chains from her pocket and held them out. "You'll have need of these, for protection," she said softly, a slight tremor audible in her husky voice. "Do ye put them on, close to your skin, over your heart." Casting a glance at one another, both Jacob and Micah reached for the unusual chains made of interlaced silver and gold, a two-inch crystalline pendant hanging from each that glowed softly in the dim of the shadowy cleft, sparkling with all the colors of a prism before settling on a pinkish hue when the stone touched against the flesh of each man, the unusual gem warming instantly to body temperature.

"What do we need protection from?" Unease was clear in the huskiness of Micah's voice; he sounded half strangled, afraid to venture forth into the dark crevasse. Ailill turned to him, a glint in her eye as she looked him over carefully. When she smiled, he smiled back though it did not reach his eyes.

"From the ghosts, o' course." The urge to laugh was strong when she saw the  look of wary caution mirrored at once on Jacob's face. "Ye saw them before, Micah, when you ventured into the tunnels unannounced. Did ye not?" Grinning mischievously, Ailill muttered to herself about superstitious lads being worse than frightened weans and turned away, pausing to light a torch made of tightly bound pine branches before leading them into the darkness.

"Wait, Abby." Jacob moved up beside her, taking the flaming torch from her hands, a look of anticipation in his deep blue eyes that caught Ailill's attention at once. Glancing over at his twin, he smiled sheepishly. "I guess I should tell ya, I'm sorry. I mean it; that should count for something."

Shrugging slightly, Ailill nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. It would bode ill for them all to take bad feelings with them into the dun. Blinking up at Micah, she stepped in before Jacob's long, lean form, knowing that there was no turning back now.

Healing Waters

The moment she stepped into the darkness, an eerie feeling of homecoming came over her, as if the dun had been awaiting her return. She relaxed instantly and lead the way through a narrow passageway; barely wide enough for the broad shoulders of the two sizable men at the entrance, the hallway widened bit by bit as the trio made their way along the gently sloping floor, descending deeper beneath the earth with each step. Near the end of the three-hundred foot long passage, the floor dropped off suddenly where it would lead into a wide circular room two feet down. She tread cautiously, throwing out her sense of direction so that she would not lead the two straight to broken legs near the bottom.

The raw, pungent smell of sulfur accosted Ailill's sensitive sinus cavity, making her sneeze, and Micah's fingers grasped her arm, holding her back just before she toppled over the edge of a dark abyss. His long fingers held tight, seeking the warmth, the comfort, of the tiny woman.

"Stay here with me for just a second and close your eyes," he whispered, leaning close, giving her a tender kiss as Jacob stopped and peered over the edge. His arms wrapped snugly about her waist, bringing to Ailill's attention a gentle tremor coursing through him. He was truly frightened and she held him close for a moment, wondering if it was still too soon. Jacob was whispering to himself, the sound coming to Ailill's ears in the form of a chant; a very ancient chant by the sound of it, one to ward off evil entities. Her grandmother had taught him well in so short a time, she mused, both surprised and pleased that his own sense of the hallowness of the place had kicked in. Eyes closed, Ailill noted the humidity of the underground chamber. She knew exactly where she was; a trickle of perspiration running down her spine made her shiver in anticipation. Misinterpreting the slight tremble as a sign of fear, Micah grasped her harder.