Oracle's Curse: Book Three of The Celtic Prophecy Page 17

  “The Formor doonae accept it.”

  “So be it.” Caileach sighed and turned to Brenawyn.

  Before she had a chance to speak, Brenawyn asserted, “I have no need to offer excuses, no patience to explain myself. In the interest of a quick resolution, I ask for trial by combat!”

  “Dae ye understand what ye ask?” the celebrant questioned.

  Alex nodded to Brenawyn, and she shakily answered in the affirmative.

  “Then declare the first contender, priestess.”

  “First?” She looked back and Alex and Amergin, who both nodded in agreement. “Alexander Sinclair, Druid Reliquary—

  Another member of the Formorian emissary spoke up. “As accuser o’ the Pretender, the Formor declare Ruadan the Infiltrator as contender.”

  Ruadan grunted in satisfaction.

  Finvarra interrupted, “Then as safeguard ta ensure the accords o’ combat are upheld, I move the assembly ta strip Ruadan o’ his immortality.”

  “The reason?”

  “Ne’er in the history o’ this assembly ha’ a mortal and a god been paired. Level the playing field, else the battle is o’er ‘afore it has begun.”

  “So noted.” Caileach thumped her staff on the ground. “Ruadan the Infiltrator, when next ye enter the battlefield ye dae so without the safeguard o’ yer immortality.”

  He looked shocked and turned to his brethren, pleading with them to speak up, but they did not. Crestfallen, he faced the celebrant again and agreed.

  “The trial will commence when the field o’ battle stands in readiness. Please escort the combatants ta the antechambers.”

  Brenawyn retired with Alex to their assigned holding area but not before seeing Caileach’s interlace ignite and the walls begin to move. A loud grating of stone grinding and moving twenty feet up filled her ears. She saw a ledge forming, but her concerns lay elsewhere. She entered the antechamber and the doors closed behind her.

  Brenawyn went to Alex. “Have you ever fought him before?”

  “Aye, in a way. I ha’ no’ thought retribution was coming so soon.”

  “He is a Formorian. His rudimentary magic is derived from the elements; he’ll be good at hand to hand, a virtual juggernaut.” Amergin assessed.

  Brenawyn made a distressed noise, but Alex squeezed her hand.

  “He’ll no’ be any good with quick movements or tight spaces. He’ll no’ be able ta call up any additional spells ta distract ye. That’s his weakness. Yer no’ as physically strong, but yer quicker, more agile, and ha’ magic that ye can call ta yer aid.”

  “Aye.”

  “Ye need ta make him think he’ll win at first. He’s an arrogant bastart, that one. He’ll make a mistake and let down his guard. That’s when ye attack with all ye ha’.”

  “Why does he hate you so much?”

  Alex snickered. “Lass, that is a story for another time. Now we ha’ ta think what Cormac’s next move is because once the trial begins, things will unfold verra quickly.”

  “After you win…”

  “Wait, lass, e’en as the battle begins Cormac will try ta get ta ye. So ye need ta stay close ta Amergin.”

  Amergin dug in his bag and extracted Brenawyn’s necklace, the Eiliminteach, and the dagger she had last remembered seeing in her grandmother’s living room on the night of Alex’s last death.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “Mistress Fordoun. She found them in yer belongings and being the sole o’ discretion herself, thought they belied yer position dressed as ye were. She kept them separate and only entrusted them ta me a’ the last when we were leaving.”

  Brenawyn slipped the necklace over her head, nestling the amulet against her skin as Alex told her to do weeks ago. “With everything that was going on I had forgotten that I had them.”

  “That woman, I swear, has the Sight. A’ the last, she came rushing ta me, da ye remember? Forcing them in my hands a feared that ye may be in need o’ them.” Amergin grimaced, “And here we are. Ye are in need.”

  Brenawyn looked perplexed. “Where do I…I have no pockets in this thing. No garters. I don’t have a place to keep the knife.” She held it out to Amergin. “Perhaps you’d better hold onto it for me.”

  “Och lass. If ye are in need o’ it, call it ta ye.”

  She laughed. “What? I’m not telekinetic.”

  “Have ye tried?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Alex and Amergin gave her identical level stares.

  “That’s possible?”

  “Repeat after me. Teacht dom.”

  “Teacht dom.”

  “Go o’er there, thinking o’ the knife, and recite it.”

  Brenawyn trekked over to the other side of the room, repeating the phrase.

  “Think about the knife. Good. Call it.” Amergin instructed.

  “Teacht dom.” Nothing happened.

  “Ye ha’ ta think about the knife, first.”

  “I did.”

  “Try it again.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Here knife, come here.” She whistled.

  The sarcasm was unappreciated by the two men, who both scowled.

  “This is nay game.” Alex scolded.

  She tried again. “Teacht dom,” and the knife appeared in her hand. Her eyes grew large with disbelief.

  Amergin turned to Alex. “T’is the same spell for calling my clothes after shifting. Use it, man. Nary a man nor woman alive wants ta see yer naked backside. Yer no’ a young man any longer.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The horn sounded and the doors swung wide. The chamber had changed again, with a balcony stretching the entire circumference of the room. Separate staircases for the four races were packed with onlookers as they ascended. Brenawyn and Amergin were escorted to an area off the main battlefield on the floor. The Wickerman was in the center, with Maggie tied and gagged. Brenawyn had a bad feeling. With the trial about to begin, Caileach thought to leave it where it was, thus further endangering Maggie as the battle raged around her.

  Across the field Ruadan was preparing and Cormac, Liam, and another man were with him.

  “The lines are drawn.” Amergin mused.

  “Is that all of them?” Brenawyn asked.

  “The Coven has twelve. The Oracle, she’s dead. Ruadan, Cormac, Liam, this unnamed man, and seven others.”

  “So… this won’t be over after this?”

  “Nay. It has just begun.” Alex held her hand, “Listen ta me, Brenawyn. They tried at Lughnasadh and they are trying at Samhain. If they are no’ successful a’ gaining yer abilities, t’will be another battle at Oimelc, and then an onslaught at Beltane as the window closes on their ambition. The further ye resist the more desperate they will become.”

  “What happens at Beltane?”

  “There are four thresholds that a person new ta the office o’ priestess or reliquary must cross. T’is seen as a time o’ training, a time when yer abilities grow and mature. With the conclusion o’ Beltane, yer abilities will be fully established. They willnae be able ta touch ye after.”

  “And after, what can I expect?”

  “The last priestess…scorched an entire village. Men, women, children…all living things—turned to pillars of ash. She salted the earth and cursed their descendants if any escaped. To this day, no life has e’er returned.”

  Brenawyn was horrified. “Why?” she asked meekly.

  “They made her resort ta using the Rite o’ the Phoenix ta give her child ta the universe.”

  “Alex, wasn’t that the story you told me about…”

  “Cernunnos’ lover? Yes, Brenawyn.” he answered pointedly.

  She searched out Cernunnos on the balcony above. “That would mean that…oh, Fuck!”

  A single thump drew her attention to Caileach on the field. There was no time for Brenawyn to think. The trial was starting.

  “The Trial of Combat commences. T’will be a battle ta the death. O’ the matter in contention, only
the truth will be the victor.”

  Alex kissed Brenawyn full on the mouth but in these last seconds she could feel him shifting just enough to give rise to the predator instincts and heightened senses. She felt the Wolf, Bear, and Leopard stir within his blood. She stepped back, and he drew the long sword from its sheath and stalked out to meet Ruadan.

  She had only seen him use his sword one other time, with the constructs his mother, Nimue, created to showcase his abilities. He assumed the first position, the Ochs, sword held level with his ear, tip pointing up tilted toward Ruadan’s throat. Ruadan rushed him, and Alex sidestepped. He lowered his weapon to the second position, the Plow, awkwardly. Even though Brenawyn knew it for a ruse, she was scared.

  Ruadan rushed him again, Alex sidestepped, but this time he drew first blood, a minor flesh wound, but it enraged the Formorian. Ruadan tossed his sword away, roaring in anger and ran at Alex who shifted sword positions again to the Alber. It looked as if Alex was going to throw his weapon away too, but just as his opponent closed in Alex slashed at his legs, drawing blood again.

  Before the next run Alex moved to the Oberhut position. It was the most awkward looking position, exacerbated by the fact that he hadn’t moved much. He readied himself to come down from above when Ruadan shifted, bringing him well within the reach of the sword strike. The blade found purchase in the meaty muscle of Ruadan’s shoulder, but the close proximity made the effect minimal. Ruadan wrenched the blade out of Alex’s hands and tossed it away to clang off the wall nearest Brenawyn and Amergin. Ruadan’s hand caught Alex’s throat and he pulled him off his feet while his other fist pummeling him with repeated jabs to the ribs. Alex didn’t even try to avoid them.

  One moment Alex was there, the next he was not, the shift happened so quickly. Brenawyn saw it happen, but it didn’t register for what it was. She remembered him telling her that he preferred to shift to animals of the same relative mass because it didn’t require an additional expenditure of energy. He never said he couldn’t do it. A black rodent dropped from Ruadan’s hands, the abrupt shift had apparently taken him by surprise.

  Once on the ground, the rodent skittered between his legs and Ruadan pivoted and pursued, trying to stomp on him. Alex’s rodent form was too quick, darting into the Wickerman under Maggie’s legs. Ruadan having no compunction as to the welfare of the soon-to-be sacrifice stalked to her, but before he could lay a hand on her, a roar of a bear broke the silence.

  The bear bounded from around the structure and launched himself at Ruadan. Both crashed to the ground. Ruadan grappled, searching for a good hold, but Alex’s claws sliced through skin and organ. He opened his mouth to scream, exposing his neck and the vulnerable carotid artery. Alex sunk his teeth in and held on until the last of Ruadan’s convulsions ended. Only when Alex was sure did he release.

  Movement from Ruadan’s camp was instantaneous. The three men moved in different directions toward a torch. Brenawyn could see their purpose and screamed a warning. Alex shifted back to his human form and tackled Cormac first. They tumbled, fists flying.

  It left Liam free to make his move. Brenawyn vaulted onto the field her interlace flaring to life and Liam mounted the dais to the Wickerman. He turned toward her with a smile playing on his lips as he slowly backed toward the pyre. She slowed, holding her hands out, imploring him to stop.

  “Are ye willing ta give up yer powers, Brenawyn?”

  “Step away and we’ll talk about it.”

  “It really is too bad that your powers didn’t manifest earlier. Things could have been so much different between us.”

  “Liam, you don’t want to do this.”

  “Why not? Don’t you know what’s possible, Bren? You have the ability to transcend this mortal coil. You could be revered, worshipped.”

  “I never wanted that.”

  “Well, if you don’t, then I do. Abdicate your powers, Brenawyn.”

  “Show me how and you can have them.”

  Brenawyn didn’t see Amergin, but saw the working as it hit Liam square in the chest knocking him flat. The torch tumbled out of his hands and rolled to catch on the straw at the base of the pyre. Brenawyn saw Maggie cower away from it and whoosh! The whole pyre, pretreated with pitch, burst into flame. Maggie screamed and Brenawyn rushed to her, oblivious to the flames licking at the ends of her robe. Her interlace flared blindingly and she raised her arms. The water from the hot spring in the first antechamber burst out of its confines like a loosed dam and flooded the field, dousing the burning Wickerman in a deluge.

  Brenawyn scrambled to where Maggie lay unmoving. Her body was contorted and her mouth hung open. Her clothes were burned away and skin charred black. Brenawyn refused to see. She cradled the body, holding it close to her chest.

  It was Finvarra, God of the Dead, who approached first to claim her body.

  “No! Get the fuck away from us. She’ll be fine.”

  Alex and Amergin came to console her, but all she did was shake her head. “It’s my fault. My fault.” Brenawyn repeated as she rocked back and forth.

  It was the sight of Liam lurking in the shadows that pushed her over the edge. All of her interlace glowed, but seeing him a shift occurred. The blue sigils of healing sapped the luminescence from the others until they were the only ones ignited. She huddled over Maggie’s lifeless body and keened, the glow of her sigils matching the decibels of her wail until a soft pop and resulting deep rumble from the ground underneath her, healing light exploded from her chest and washed over Maggie.

  Maggie’s body seized and bent back, growing rigid as the light was sucked in. Brenawyn could see it still shining from her open mouth, and then she heard the girl gasp. She sunk into Brenawyn’s arms, pliant, but her skin still charred and flaking away.

  “Amergin, help her.”

  He came to them and she carefully placed Maggie’s body down, intent on leaving her in his capable, healing hands. She had to exact revenge. She couldn’t let Liam escape unscathed. She called for her knife, and stalked to where she’d seen him last. The chamber was filling up as the onlookers descended to get a closer look at the scene. Everyone gave her wide berth. She was running now. She passed Tavish, grabbing and unhooking the hatchet at his belt. Now armed with both weapons, she finally saw Liam. Alex had him pinned to the wall, his face already bloody.

  “It’s only fair, I suppose, that ye’ve had her. I did take Colleen from you.”

  “Shut yer mouth, ye willnae speak o’ her that way.”

  “I don’t see how you can stop me other than killing me. Tell me, Alexander, who do you prefer? Hmm? Brenawyn, I think. She’s a hellcat in bed. Much like those dearg due, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Shut yer fucking mouth!” Alex punched him in the jaw.

  “Alex?” Brenawyn interjected.

  He turned to her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Laying vengeance at yer feet.”

  “Don’t. Bring him. He can be of use.”

  She turned on her heel and Alex followed, Liam in tow. They neared the dais again, the onlookers parting the way before her.

  “Let him go.”

  “Ye want me ta let him go? But why?”

  “Trust me.”

  By this time, the onlookers—Fir Bolg, Formorians, Tuatha Dé Danann, and the Milesians mixing together—filled the gap. When Alex let Liam go he was confused as to which way to run. He looked one way, his thoughts so loud that Brenawyn could almost hear him reason. Fight through the crowds to go back to the mortal realm or to Tir-Na-Nog?

  He made a decision, and bolted. Before Alex reacted, Brenawyn threw the hatchet at Liam’s retreating form. It flew end over end and found its home deep between Liam’s shoulder blades. He fell to his knees, reaching behind him in an attempt to grasp the handle. Blood spurted from his back as Brenawyn rounded his dying form. Smiling down on him, she touched his cheek, and brushed his hair off his forehead. She leaned down to kiss his lips, and he relaxed, giving himself over to the tender
ness. He opened his mouth wider and she stroked his tongue with her own, tempting him to be bold in his last moments. He extended his tongue and she seized it, sucking provocatively. Then her fingers cradling his cheeks became a vice, her lips hard and punishing as she sucked whatever remained of his life force from him. He felt himself dry and wither under her, his last thought on his cockstand.

  She let his lifeless body fall to the ground and wiped her mouth, intent on Maggie. The girl was alive, but barely, each breath torture for her burnt lungs. The life force of Liam would go to good use in repairing some of the damage but she needed more. She scanned the area. No one would be willing. If she could only locate Cormac or that other man. Their lives were forfeit having revealed their intent. They wouldn’t be welcomed in Tir-Na-Nog, and would be on the run in the mortal realm. That was the better chance for them anyway, with their ability to hide in time, but first things, first.

  Amergin scooted over to give Brenawyn access. She bent down grimacing. To do this she had to cause Maggie more pain. There was no other way. “I’m so sorry.” She pinched Maggie’s nose and opened her mouth. She put her lips to Maggie’s and blew forcefully just once until her chest felt tight and she was out of breath. She lifted her head and placed her other hand on Maggie’s mouth to not allow Liam’s life force to escape.

  She held this position until Maggie started to squirm under her hands. “Amergin, hold her.”

  Amergin did as instructed, and the charred bits of Maggie’s skin flaked away; the sores scabbed and flaked off too, leaving shiny scar tissue. Only then did Brenawyn remove her hands. Maggie gasped, and gulped in air.

  A voice behind her asked, “Do you need more?”

  Brenawyn turned to see the other man who had been with Liam and Cormac earlier. He was young; he would do. “Yes.”

  He nodded, approaching, “My life for hers.” He fell to his knees.

  Maggie’s hand flailed toward him, and he caught it. He caressed the back of her hand, kissing her knuckles.

  “I am so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

  “Andy,” she whispered as a tear escaped to run down her cheek.

  He caught it with a knuckle, and turned to Brenawyn. “Take my life for hers.”