Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) (11 page)

"Are ye sure ye can handle the steed," Moya asked, directing her question physically to Airard but looking right at Darina.  He smiled at her as he unsteadily took hold of the lead, and somehow managed to raise himself to mount. 
Weak
. He looked incredibly weak to Moya and she wondered what would become of the pitiful two if one of them should suffer a fall or worse. Darina was in no condition to help him and he was definitely in no condition to help her. God forbid she should go into labor.

"How long do ye plan to be gone, milady?" Moya inquired.

"As long as it takes, Moya," Darina chastised, gruffly for affect. She glared at her with a disapproving, rebellious frown but broke into a smirk once she caught Moya's eye. Not exactly used to her station as Lord's wife, Darina had a bit of 'entitled Lord's daughter' still coming out.  "I don't expect to be gone more than say, three hours," she offered. Stepping on the stool, Darina grunted and raised herself on the mare, landing with a thud. The mare jerked and resettled her footing.

"Where may I say ye are a goin'?"

"Ye can't," Darina rebutted."If anaone should ask, we've gone for a walk, in the orchards.  Darina grabbed the lead from Airard and set out of the paddock towards the open fields.  The weather was good and the skies were clear, of that she was thankful. She just hoped the audience they sought was willing and would accommodate them. She didn't know how Airard knew about Covar, but the mention of his name was a confirmation of sorts. Perhaps now she would get the answers she sought about her son and their future.  Her companion sought his audience for other, more pressing reasons she presumed.

F
OURTEEN

O'Malley Territory - The Island of Women

They had rowed for hours against the rough, choppy waters and the Island was finally within sight. Braedyn estimated another hour or two at most and they would set down on the shore. Finding the abandoned dinghy was a blessing, until they realized how far they had to go and how little strength remained among them. Orla's hands were bleeding and Naelyn did her best to tend to them.

"Let's jest rest here a bit, the wind is in our favor," said Naelyn.

"Aye," Braedyn replied. "I ken ye are right. We can rest here awhile," he said looking over at a sleeping Orla and back up at the clear sky. "She is might nearly worn out I suppose," he whispered.

"Ye care verra much for her, I can see that," said Naelyn. "What do ye suppose she feels for ye?"

Braeden grinned a devilish grin and settled the oars at the bottom of the dinghy before reaching for the skin of water. He took a long, slow swig before handing it to Naelyn. "I ken she likes me," he sighed, "she may even more than like me, it's hard to tell sometimes," he added, sighing for emphasis.

The clouds above them grew dark, an ominous sign Naelyn thought to herself. Rocking back and forth in the choppy water, she stabilized herself with both hands, one against each side of the dinghy. Unable to let loose of her fear of water, Naelyn continued the small talk with Braedyn. Anything to take her mind off the awful water and their predicament and what it was she was going to tell her sister, Gemma.

Gemma knew she had been cared for and practically raised by Odetta and she had overlooked much of her past.  No doubt, Gemma probably feared her dead since she didn't arrive in O'Malley territory with the other Burke refugees. When Gemma found out she had been imprisoned by Easal and held against her will to do his bidding, would she believe her? Would the O'Malley clan accept her or send her back to Burke lands? And what of the dragon? Would they believe her story?

"Have ye plans for the future with her?" asked Naelyn, nodding in the direction of the sleeping Orla between them in the boat. "Have ye sights on marriage Braeden?"

"Aye," he replied, matter-of-factly. "She will be me bride."

"She will?"

"Aye, she will."

"And just what if she has something else to say about it," she asked concealing a grin.

"I'm sure she will, knowing Orla. But, I'm also confident she will come around to my way of thinking soon enough. She always does. Besides, it makes perfect sense we should be married. I will be Laird one day ye know, and she will be my Lady." His eyes twinkled at the thought. He had clearly put as much thought as his adolescent brain could muster into the idea of making a good match, for himself and his clan.

Orla moaned and shifted her weight against the floor of the small dinghy. Rubbing her eyes, she sank back down against the wet bottom in near surrender. They were all completely soaked, and worn out and bloody and beaten, but thank the gods the sun was out. At least they wouldn't "catch their deaths." Stretching her long arms overhead, Orla moaned one last, long moan before propping herself up on one arm to survey their predicament.

The island was in sight and a current seemed to be carrying them along. Neither Braeden nor Naelyn was rowing, but they were making headway in the right direction. She could be thankful she needn't row for the moment. Her hands had bled through the make-shift bandages, and Naelyn's skirt bottom was practically gone, but it had done the trick.

It would be a long, long time before she would ever trust Braeden O'Malley again. Of all the situations he had gotten them into, this was the worst. She would face terrible consequences when she got back, the least of which would be answering to Lord Patrick O'Malley. It was her mother she feared the most and her mother's sister, Odetta, that scared her even more. She voluntarily left the safety of the clan, and they must be fearing her dead at this point. How could she tell them what they found, and why they left? How could she explain that they conjured up their very own dragon?

Orla took a long, deep breath and sat up all the way, balancing herself by clutching tightly to the make-shift seat in front of her. Staring at the top of her bandaged hands, she realized it had suddenly become dark for a moment, then light again, and then dark again.                Either the sun was going behind the clouds or something was casting shadows on the trio as they rocked in the boat. She shuddered to think what would be large enough to leave that kind of shadow. Still drowsy from her exhaustion induced nap, she looked up to search Braeden's face.

"Braeden," she said softly.

"Aye," he replied, just as softly, never taking his eyes off the bottom of the dinghy.

"Do ye see that shadow?" she continued.

"Aye, I see it," Naelyn interjected from behind her.

"What do ye suppose...?" Orla began.

"Tis the dragon," Braeden responded calmly to the both of them. "It's been following us for several hours yet. Don't make any sudden moves now."

"If it's been following us Braeden, why on earth have we stopped rowing?" asked Orla, tears pooling in her eyes. "Why aren't we getting to the island as fast as we can?"

"Orla, if the dragon wanted us dead, don't ye suppose we'd be dead already? We can't outrun a flying dragon. Besides, there is nothing on that island that can save us from a dragon if it knows where we are."

"He's right," said Naelyn. "If this is the dragon you summoned, I don't think it means to kill you.

"Why do you suppose it's following us then?" asked Orla.

Braeden replied, "I guess we will find out soon enough."

F
IFTEEN

O'Malley Lands

Patrick and Lucian watched in astonishment from the battlements at the field below them. It was littered with soldiers, hundreds of thousands of soldiers, troops visible in every direction and their numbers stretched for miles upon rolling miles. It was an marvelous sight. They silently trained, in formation,  in synchronicity and they were impressive. The sound of it was akin to what you might expect of the rush of angels wings.

"Phenomenal," whispered Lucian. "I am beyond words at this point," he muttered under his breath as he shook his head left and right.  Turning to his immediate right, he greeted Kurt with a nod and motioned for Galen to join them as well on the west side overlooking the great plain adjacent to the shipyard.

"What astonishes ye more Lucian, that they are precise in their movements or that a blind mon leads them?" asked Patrick.

Lucian took a long deep breath and leaned his back against the stoney wall, crossing his arms for emphasis.  "I suppose what astonishes me more than anathing is that ye took the advice of Odetta Burke. And - I can't say as I have as much faith in her as ye do."

"Ye called for me, Milord,"  Kurt interjected, bowing courteously before Lord O'Malley and nodding towards Lucian.  "I've brought Galen as well, in case ye have need of spiritual counseling."

Lucian snickered and met eyes with Patrick. "He's no need of yer spiritual advice Kurt, ye know verra well we are druid priests, it's no' been a secret for some time now." Kurt nodded stoically and sent a cutting glance to Galen, the cleric who had taken his place as clan priest after he was stripped of his position.

"Thank ye Kurt, but that's no' why I sought ye," replied Patrick. "Galen, thank you for coming, but ye are dismissed," he said, adding to the mystery of the invitation.  "Kurt, have some wine won't ye?  And, take a seat, we've something of a delicate nature to discuss."

Kurt accepted the goblet offered by the servant and shot a wide gaze across the territory, noting with peculiarity the absence of Flynn, the Chieftain, in the fields. Instead, as noted by the flag-barer, there was Jamie Burke and his regiment and they seemed to be leading the current exercises.  There were also the O'Malley soldiers, wearing the O'Malley tartan, and the Burke soldiers who were also wearing the traditional O'Malley tartan. Seeing as how the enemy was the remaining Burkes in Burke territory, there shouldn't have been any confusion between soldiers. There was also a tartan Kurt didn't quite recognize, it was similar to O'Malley plaid,  but a different shade of blue.

"Pardon me, Milord," Kurt interrupted, "but what soldiers be they who wear the royal blue plaid?" he asked, leaning far over the edge to get a better view. "I've never seen such a pattern."

Lucian smiled and elbowed Patrick. "Yes, Milord," he said, "please do tell Kurt about those other soldiers."

"I canna' believe it!" Kurt added, clasping his hands above his head in disbelief, and then turning back around to take another look, stretching and leaning animatedly over the edge at this point.

"Patrick, they are..." Kurt began before taking another long swig of his wine. "They are..." he attempted again.

By now, Lucian was laughing out loud and Patrick was smiling a mischievous smile.  They hadn't intended for this to be the manner in which Kurt was told, but it would have to do. "Kurt," said Lucian slowly, "the soldiers
are
indeed blindfolded."

"But, that's not the best part, ye know?" interjected Patrick, motioning once again for Kurt to take a seat.

"It's not?"

"Nay," broke in Lucian.

"Ye see the soldiers in the new tartan?" asked Patrick.

"Aye," whispered Kurt, turning back around in disbelief.

"Those soldiers are women."

It took some moments for the color to return to Kurt's face. Some long, intensely amusing moments for Lucian, who Patrick was either unable or unwilling to admonish. Before long, both men stood before Kurt laughing and jabbing with each other as they pointed at Kurt.

"Women?" Kurt repeated, disbelievingly, before turning back around to get a better look at the royal blood plaid. "Women?" he asked again, before finally sinking down into his seat in seeming defeat.

"Women," said Gemma, who was suddenly standing before the men. "And it's about time, don't ye think Kurt? she added smugly.

"Aye, Kurt, don't ye think?" added Ruarc, who was standing next to Gemma.

"Listen, ye may have gotten the wrong idea here," replied Kurt. "I only ever opposed the women fighting because of Rome, because of their requirements, it was no' me."

"It was no' ye?" snorted Gemma. "It was no' ye? Hogwash!"

"Never the mind," Patrick stated firmly. "We've no allegiance to Rome.  We didna' call ye here to discuss the soldiers, well, not the fact that they are women anahow. I rather have no care as to anaone's opinion regarding that. The women have been protecting their island and this shore and our territory for longer than I've been here and they've every right to fight should they so choose."

"Aye," replied Gemma and Ruarc in unison. Lucian nodded in agreement and Kurt stared blankly in front of him.

"They
are
also blind-folded," whispered Kurt.

"Aye, they are," acknowledged Patrick, who stood at the precise moment Gemma and Ruarc took a seat. "And, there's an explanation for that as well. But  - what we called ye here for is to discuss yer relationship with Odetta Burke."

"What?" gasped Gemma in disbelief.

"Aye," replied Patrick.

"Wait, shouldn't Flynn be here as well?" Gemma asked.

"Flynn has other, more pressing matters to attend," said Lucian.  "He is making arrangements for military - uh - supplies," he blurted, seeking Patrick's approval with his eyes.

"Aye, he is," replied Patrick. "Critical military supplies."

***

"Weel' that settles it then," Missus Edwards hummed as she tugged at her skirts, attempting to lift her too large frame into what was left of the cart seat she was supposed to share with Aisling.

"Settles what?" Aisling retorted. "Settles what exactly?"

"Oh, never ye mind my dear one, I can see yer tired and there'll be plenty of time to work out the details."

"What details?," Aisling asked as she lurched forward and then backwards, holding on for dear life as the clackety cart made its way down the cobblestone path and outside of the gate surrounding Castle Burke. "What do ye mean? What details are ye referring to? Don't ye think I shoulda' been part of the talks at least, seeing as how I may consider taking the Lord's hand an' all?"