The Undivided (3 page)

No longer. Not since the Undivided were, well … divided. These days, despite the lip service they paid to his rank, Darragh was painfully aware the leaders who once deferred to his position now considered him weak and powerless.

He was Darragh the Divided. They thought him an annoying young man whom tradition forced them to acknowledge, but one increasingly easy to ignore.

They thought of him as nothing but an ineffectual figurehead
at the mercy of men like Amergin who — at the behest of a
leanan sídhe
whore — had betrayed his own people in return for his need to be immortalised as a poet.

That would change, of course, if the Undivided were ever reunited.

When we’re reunited
, Darragh corrected himself silently. Rónán was alive. Darragh knew that. He simply wouldn’t be breathing if his brother wasn’t — the psychic link between them was too strong to let a small thing like being separated by different realities get in the way.

But finding his twin in that other reality and bringing him home was an entirely different matter.

And something he didn’t have time to dwell on now. Darragh closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to glimpse the reason the
Tuatha
had asked for this meeting, but the future was dim. He would just have to trust Ciarán, Brógán and Niamh. His disturbing dreams of infanticide notwithstanding — which came to him unbidden — when Darragh consciously tried to see the future, all he saw were boring, mundane things like snippets of the upcoming feast, even a glimpse of a servant accidentally spilling an amphora of apple wine on one of Álmhath’s men-at-arms.

Nothing he could use. No idea what this meeting was about.

No comforting vision of Brógán or Niamh rushing into the hall to inform the entire gathering that Darragh’s long-lost brother had been found …

Nothing but a minor fistfight, Marcroy’s untrustworthy smile and Torcán’s contemptuously curled lip as he sat beside his equally disdainful fiancée, Anwen, on the raised dais, looking down his nose at the other occupants of the Druid hall.

Darragh shook his head to clear the image, certain the last one hadn’t been a vision so much as an educated guess that came from knowing the Celtic prince so well.

‘Is something the matter,
Leath tiarna
?’ Colmán asked anxiously, recognising Darragh’s vague expression. ‘Have you Seen something? Something we can use?’

‘Álmhath will be here by sunset,’ he told the Vate. ‘And she’s bringing Torcán with her.’

The Vate ventured a cautious smile. ‘That should please you,
Leath tiarna
?’

‘I’m thrilled,’ Darragh murmured to himself, knowing if he said it any louder, he’d have to explain his sour tone to Colmán. Amergin would have understood. He had thought Torcán a royal pain, too.

Damn you, Amergin, for being so selfish …

‘Pardon,
Leath tiarna
?’

‘Nothing, Colmán,’ Darragh sighed, wondering if he could escape
Sí an Bhrú
long enough to go for a ride alone to clear his head — and his Sight — before their guests arrived. Unlikely, he knew. Colmán hated to let Darragh out of his sight for more than a few moments for fear the young man would do something worthy of being recorded for posterity. ‘Just … carry on …’

‘As you wish,
Leath tiarna
,’ the Vate said, bowing low. And then he closed his eyes, crossed his hands in his sleeves once more and began to intone his next composition.

‘Darragh, the Undivided, waits to meet the Queen of the Celts.
Sí an Bhrú
rings with the sound of many busy … belts …’

Darragh sighed.
Amergin, your greatest crime against the Druids wasn’t betraying the Undivided
, he lamented silently, as he turned and headed for the long passage leading outside, unable to bear another word of Colmán’s recital.
It was naming this fool as your successor …

‘How long have you been here at Temair now, Brydie?’ the queen asked, slipping her arm through Brydie’s as they walked back toward
Ráith Righ.
Even with the crisp breeze, it was much warmer out in the bright sunlight, walking the gravelled path that led up the hill toward the castle. The sky was glorious; a pale, cloudless blue canopy. The distant clashes and shouts of men-at-arms training over on the practice field reached them faintly, but the men were out of sight of the path they were taking back to the
Ráith
.

Malvina had hurried on ahead, probably to get ready for her departure later in the day. The whole
Ráith
was in an uproar as the queen prepared to leave, which made this morning’s choosing in the sacred grove all the more unusual. These matters were rarely settled so hastily.

The queen’s familiarity worried Brydie a little, too. Until that incident in the hall a few months ago, when she acquired the unwanted description of
built for sin
, Brydie had barely spoken ten words to Álmhath since she’d arrived from her father’s court in the west. She’d thought she’d remained hidden and anonymous among the scores of court maidens at Temair, some married, some single, and most of them working — as Brydie was — as servants.

‘Almost eight months,’ she said, wondering why her length of time here was significant.

‘Your mother was Mogue Ni’Farrell, was she not?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

The queen nodded and smiled. ‘I remember her. She too, was built for sin.’

Brydie was beginning to tire of this. ‘My lady …’

Álmhath laughed softly and squeezed her arm tighter, cutting off her objection. ‘Forgive me, my dear. I am teasing you. Your mother was an extraordinary beauty and a loyal sister. As are you.’

‘Thank you,
an Bhantiarna
,’ Brydie said, a little warily. Álmhath didn’t hand out compliments like that on a whim.

‘Do you remember her?’ Álmhath asked, her tone softening a little.

‘Not really,’ Brydie said with a shrug. ‘Just what my father has told me about her. I was very little when she died.’

‘She was a great loss to us,’ Álmhath said, smiling sympathetically. ‘Her line was very precious.’

The comment intrigued Brydie. She’d never heard her father claim her mother had any special connection to the queen. ‘Was she a court maiden, too?’

‘A very special one.’

‘Did you arrange her marriage to my father?’

‘Of course.’

‘Did you
make
her marry him, or did she volunteer?’ Brydie had never been sure about that. Her father spoke well enough of her dead mother whenever Brydie had asked about her, but he didn’t seem too broken-hearted by her demise. And he’d replaced Mogue within a year of her death with a new wife, but that could have been practicality, rather than a sign of disregard for Brydie’s mother.

The queen stopped walking and turned to look at Brydie, her
eyes squinting a little as the rising sun was directly behind Brydie now. ‘Do I detect a note of disapproval in your tone, young lady?’

‘No,
an Bhantiarna
. Of course not.’

Álmhath raised one eyebrow as she studied Brydie curiously. ‘Are you in love?’

‘No,’ Brydie replied, puzzled by the question. ‘Why would you ask that?’

‘Because, in my experience, court maidens only question the marriages I arrange for them when they’ve already gone and done the choosing for themselves.’

Brydie shook her head. ‘I swear,
an Bhantiarna
, I have been true to my oath. I will do as you command. Happily. Provided …’ Her voice trailed off, as she realised she may have overstepped the mark.

The older woman smiled knowingly at her. ‘I don’t normally permit my court maidens to put qualifiers on their oaths, Brydie. I’m in the mood to indulge you, however. Provided
what
?’

Brydie hesitated, and then decided she might as well have her say now. The queen seemed in a remarkably congenial mood. It might be the only chance she was ever offered to have her opinion noted. ‘Provided it’s not that Gaulish brute you’ve been entertaining all month.’

Álmhath laughed. ‘By
Danú
, as if I’d waste someone of your pedigree on a penniless pretender like Atilis. Rest easy, young Brydie, I have much bigger plans for the daughter of Mogue Ni’Farrell.’

Brydie wasn’t sure that sounded any better. What did she mean by
bigger plans
?

Is that what she was talking about when she said
Danú
had work for me?

‘Have you been to many formal banquets since you arrived?’ Álmhath asked, before Brydie had a chance to inquire.

‘I’ve served at most of them,’ Brydie said, frowning.
That’s what I get for being assigned to the low tables. The queen doesn’t even know I was there.

‘I’m leaving this morning for a meeting at
Sí an Bhrú
,’ the queen said, which was no news to Brydie. The meeting had been planned for days. The queen, her son, Torcán, and her large entourage were planning to leave as soon as they got back to the
Ráith
. ‘There will be quite a feast in
Sí an Bhrú
tonight.’

Brydie nodded, not sure if the remark required her to respond.

‘Have you ever been to
Sí an Bhrú
?’

‘No, my lady,’ she replied.

‘You’ve never met the Undivided, then?’

Well, that would be a bit of a chore
, Brydie was tempted to respond.
One of them is missing.
But she restrained herself and shook her head. ‘No, my lady.’

‘You’ve met Marcroy Tarth, though, haven’t you?’

She nodded. ‘Only recently, my lady. When the
Tuatha
visited last.’ Just before riders headed out to
Sí an Bhrú
to arrange today’s meeting. She remembered that visit well. Although she had no idea what it was about, the queen had been in a foul temper for days after the
sídhe
lord left Temair. Brydie didn’t warm to Marcroy, thinking he looked far too young to be lord of the
Tuatha
. He certainly didn’t look thousands of years old. With his fair, flawless skin, his far-too-pretty-to-be-masculine features and his delicately pointed ears, he looked like a youth in the first flush of manhood.

‘Did Marcroy say anything to you?’

‘He said I reminded him of his niece.’

Álmhath frowned. ‘He has thousands of them. Did he say which one?’

‘I believe I remind him of Trása.’ Brydie remembered the name well because, even in the west, in the relative isolation of
her family home on the coast far from court, they’d heard of the traitor Amergin’s half-
Beansídhe
daughter.

That made the queen smile, which worried Brydie a great deal, because it was a sly, secretive little smile she had never before seen Álmhath display. ‘Did he now? Isn’t that interesting?’

‘Is it? I thought it was an insult. She’s a mongrel.’

‘A very enticing mongrel,’ the queen informed her, apparently amused by Brydie’s indignation. ‘Which is why we had her removed from
Sí an Bhrú.
’

‘Oh … I didn’t know that.’

‘No reason you should, dear.’ The queen glanced around. They were still stopped on the path, standing in the open amid a field of emerald clover, kept close-cropped by the sheep herds belonging to the
Ráith
, far from the shadows of the earth abutments that circled the keep.

Brydie realised then why they were talking out here. Only in an open space such as this could Álmhath be certain there were no
Tuatha
spies about trying to listen in on their conversation. She glanced around, wondering what Álmhath feared the Faerie might overhear.

The queen turned back to study Brydie thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Are you truly your mother’s daughter, Brydie Ni’Seanan?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean by that,
an Bhantiarna
,’ Brydie said, certain it was a loaded question.

‘If I ask you to do something, to make a sacrifice for me, for your people, would you do it?’

Brydie nodded. ‘Of course …’

‘Provided it doesn’t involve that Gaulish pig?’ Álmhath asked, with a raised brow.

‘Even if it involved that,’ Brydie replied with a sigh, realising now that Álmhath wasn’t being friendly, she’d been toying with
her. ‘I’m sorry, my lady. What you want of me, I will do. I’ll marry whoever … or
whatever
… you tell me I must.’

Álmhath studied her closely for a moment, as if trying to determine her sincerity, and then nodded. ‘Then return to your rooms and pack, my dear. You’ll be coming to
Sí an Bhrú
with us. I’ll explain what I want of you on the way.’

With a final and eminently satisfying shake of his thick white fur, Marcroy Tarth relinquished his wolven form and changed back into a more human-like appearance as he topped the rise overlooking
Sí an Bhrú
.

The Faerie lord stared across the valley at the sprawling human settlement with mixed feelings. The huge stone complex sat atop an elongated ridge within a large bend in the Boyne River about five miles west of the town of Drogheda, bathed in the setting sun. It was a sacred place, defiled by humans as part of a deal that had gone horribly wrong. Now sheep grazed on its slopes, the trees surrounding it had been murdered for firewood, and smoke curled out of the roofs of the roundhouses clustered at the foot of the hill, and was quickly snatched away by the chilly breeze almost as soon as it escaped confinement.

Sí an Bhrú
hadn’t always belonged to the Druids. This place had been built by his people, the
Tuatha Dé Danann
. But that was long ago. Now the sacred halls were filled with drunken men-at-arms, talentless bards and sorcerers wielding stolen magic, who plotted and schemed the way humans do, uncaring of the long and hallowed history of the place they now called home.

‘It must pain you to see
Sí an Bhrú
still occupied by men,’ his companion remarked.

Marcroy turned to the djinni, scowling, as he materialised beside him in a wisp of blue flame that defied the wind by barely moving.

‘It would pain me less if you didn’t gloat about it, Jamaspa.’

The
Marid
shrugged as his upper body formed a human shape similar to Marcroy’s, shimmering a little as he moved. ‘If you recall, Marcroy Tarth, I advised against this foolish bargain. Am I not entitled to remind you, now and then, that you should have listened to me? To the Brethren? Had you heeded our advice, we would not be in the position we are in now.’

‘You couldn’t have known,’ Marcroy pointed out, folding his arms across his body. He would have to wait here until the
Leipreachán
charged with bringing his clothes arrived. It would not do to arrive in
Sí an Bhrú
naked.

Jamaspa shrugged, wavering a little in the crisp, cool breeze. ‘It should have been obvious, cousin,’ he said. ‘No matter how you justify the reason, you willingly gave humans access to your magic. You didn’t expect them to relinquish it without a fight, did you?’

Marcroy scowled again, not wanting to get into an argument with the
Marid
, a djinni so old and powerful he made Orlagh look like a newling. He was tempted to point out that it had seemed an exceedingly reasonable proposition at the time. The
Tuatha
were under attack and the deal with the Druids had been contingent on finding a set of ludicrously rare psychically linked twins to channel Faerie magic to human sorcerers. There’d only been a handful of such twins ever found. It didn’t seem a lingering threat. Who could have anticipated that the humans would keep finding such rare, gifted twins, again and again, for the next sixty generations?

‘The harm is done, Jamaspa,’ Marcroy said with a shrug. ‘All we can do now is mitigate the damage.’ Although he couldn’t resist adding, ‘Assuming your rift runners are not mistaken about the future that awaits us if we do nothing.’

The djinni shook his head, making his whole ephemeral body bob up and down in the air. ‘They are not mistaken. The Undivided twins, RónánDarragh, will destroy us —
Tuatha
, Djinni and all the others of our kind. We have seen it in the other realities where they were allowed to rule united. For the sake of all the Faerie races of this realm, we must destroy them first.’

Marcroy wished he was able to voice such a definitive sentiment so readily, but he couldn’t. The Treaty of
Tír Na nÓg
was inviolable. He was Faerie and so bound by Faerie law he could barely contemplate endangering the treaty his queen had made on behalf of the
Tuatha
, let alone breaking it. Yet the warning the Brethren had brought him all those years ago — the warning that had prompted him to subvert Amergin and sunder the Undivided — called to another, even more profound oath he was sworn to uphold. The protection of his people.

Marcroy had never before been so conflicted; never had to deal with two binding oaths so at odds with one another.

‘I have rift runners combing the other reality,’ he assured the djinni. ‘They will ensure Rónán stays out of reach until the new Undivided are invested. Once that happens — once the power is transferred — Darragh will be dead and he’ll take Rónán with him, wherever he may be. The threat will be gone.’

‘But not this cursed treaty of yours.’

Marcroy shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, no. The Treaty of
Tír Na nÓg
will remain intact. But then, it must. I have no choice in the matter.’

‘Orlagh has much to answer for, binding us to that cursed treaty,’ Jamaspa said, his form darkening with anger. ‘She had no right to make such a promise. No right to swear a treaty that binds all Faerie into this absurdity. Would it not cause the breaking of the treaty, and the oath she took on our behalf, the Brethren would remove her themselves.’

Although Marcroy had always known of the resentment among the elders of the Faerie races over the arrangement the
Tuatha
queen had made to save her people, he’d never realised just how angry they were.

Perhaps he should warn his queen?

All in good time.
After all, if anything happened to Orlagh, he would become king of the
Daoine sídhe.

‘How will they find him?’

‘Pardon?’ Marcroy had become lost, for a moment, in the enticing prospect of kingship.

‘The realm Amergin sent the child to? It’s populated by millions, I’m told.’

‘Billions,’ Marcroy corrected, although the concept was just as hard for him to grasp as it was for Jamaspa. No full-blooded
Tuatha
or Djinni could travel to a world without magic. They were forced to rely on the reports of the half-human rift runners they sent in their stead, for news of what was happening in the other realms.

‘How will they find him among billions?’

‘I sent someone who knows Darragh by sight. She’ll know Rónán when she finds him.’

‘Who did you send?’

‘My niece, Trása.’

Jamaspa smiled. ‘Amergin’s mongrel daughter?’

Marcroy nodded.

‘You have a wonderful sense of irony, cousin.’

Before he could respond, Guinness McGee, the
Leipreachán
he’d arranged to manage his wardrobe for this all-important meeting in
Sí an Bhrú
, popped into existence a few feet below him, on the steep slope of the hill. With a squawk, the
Leipreachán
and the bundle of clothes tumbled backward for a short distance, until they came to a halt, tangled in the branches of a small shrub, several yards from where Marcroy and the djinni waited.

Guinness scrambled back up the slope toward them, struggling to keep his hat on, his pipe upright and the bundle off the ground, muttering to himself. Jamaspa shook his head, frowning, and turned to Marcroy. ‘Your lesser
sídhe
make the
sílā
seem graceful and intelligent by comparison.’

Watching Guinness stumbling over his own feet as he tried to drag the bundle of Marcroy’s precious clothing up the damp, grassy slope, Marcroy was tempted to agree, but he’d had enough of Jamaspa’s smug superiority for one day. ‘Do you think so, cousin?’ he asked curiously. ‘I’ve always considered a lesser
sídhe
who can be trained to fetch and carry, far more useful than one who prefers to inhabit rocks and trees with no other purpose than to leap out and kill things when the mood takes it.’ He gave Jamaspa no chance to reply, turning to Guinness. ‘You’re late, McGee. I said sunset.’

‘The sun not be set yet, me lord, so I be here, when and where ye asked me,’ the
Leipreachán
exclaimed, looking wounded as he handed the bundle over to Marcroy. ‘It not be me fault that ye big blue friend here threw me off course.’

‘The bug speaks,’ Jamaspa remarked, glaring down at the
Leipreachán.
‘Shall I squash it for you, cousin?’

‘If you wish.’

Guinness squawked with fear and took a step backward, which sent him tumbling back down the hill. Marcroy smiled at the sight and then turned to Jamaspa, offering the jewelled brooch holding the bundle together, intended to secure his cloak once he was dressed. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ll carry you in this.’

Jamaspa frowned. ‘It’s very small.’

Marcroy examined the gold filigree and amethyst brooch for a moment and then shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, cousin, I assumed a
Marid
of your power could possess any item, no matter how small. A thousand pardons for overestimating your skill.’

The djinni couldn’t ignore such a blatant challenge. He glared at Marcroy for a moment and then abruptly turned into a narrow plume of blue smoke, which quickly disappeared into the brooch, darkening the stone to a purple so deep it was almost black.

Marcroy held the brooch up in front of his face to address the jewel’s occupant. ‘I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come out, but it won’t be until we’ve left
Sí an Bhrú
. The humans can have no hint of the presence of a djinni in their stronghold, and you know as well as I that, unrestrained, Darragh and probably more than a few Druid sorcerers in
Sí an Bhrú
, will feel your presence. Be patient, cousin.’

The jewel flared in acknowledgement of Marcroy’s warning. Satisfied that he would be able to carry his djinni companion into the very heart of the Druid stronghold without them being any the wiser, Marcroy tossed it onto his cloak and began to get dressed. The sun was almost set. They would be waiting for him in the main hall, expecting him to arrive with a huge entourage. Appearing alone would confuse the Druids no end.

As he pulled the silk embroidered shirt over his head, he caught sight of a plume of dust on the road below, heading toward
Sí an Bhrú.

So Álmhath has arrived
, he thought, as he spied her canopied wagon in the centre of the line of armoured, pike-carrying riders. Her response to his news — and the reason for this meeting — had been enthusiastic, but forced. One would think, given she had been living in the shadow of the splintered Undivided for so long, his news would have pleased her. And after she recovered from her initial shock, she seemed keen enough to call this meeting and set the wheels of change in motion. But she wasn’t. And that puzzled Marcroy.

Still, it didn’t really matter now. The trap was closing. Very soon, the Undivided would be replaced with twins far less
dangerous than the divided RónánDarragh. The treaty would remain intact. The fate the Brethren had seen in other realms would not befall them here in this one.

All it needed now was a little time, and for Marcroy’s half-human niece, Trása, to prove worthy of his trust by ensuring Rónán of the Undivided never found his way home to this realm.