Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (42 page)

Daire
inspected the
men
and smirked. “They will be feeling that in the morning. Serves them right
for slacking in their duties,” he murmured under his
breath. “From both the mead and their heads.”

Odhrán pressed against the door and pushed it open slightly, enough to peer in. He
could see a man and woman huddled along one side with a small child, their expressions wrought with fear as they watched some armed men sitting at a table with full cups.
“
There are villagers alive in here
,” he said under his breath. “Let the family live, they do not appear to have welcomed them into their home. They have naught to do with this.”

The Milidh
man
received a nod in response.

“Draw your bows,” Odhrán continued. “Use them before blade, understand? We’ll take out those in front, then draw and enter.” Odhrán pulled out his bow and knocked an arrow ready. A small smile touched his lips. “Ready?” With quick movements, he kicked open the door, brought his bow up followed by
Daire
and
Ceallach. “Lay on!” he shouted, releasing
the arrow before the warriors inside could even comprehend what was happening.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Shiovra
paced the
hearth fire, anxiously running her fingers over her braided her
. Eiladyr
sat against a support post, watching her with his arms crossed
.
“You are going to worry yourself sick,” the man told her after a long while. “Why not sit and rest for a bit?”

Shaking her head, the priestess continued with her pacing.
She was driven by the need to go after them, driven by the feeling that she could do something,
anything,
to prevent Ainmire’s death
. “
We should not be sitting here idle
,” she mutt
ered under her breath in before walking
impatiently to the door and
opening
it.

Eiladyr
rose quickly to his feet and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder
. “
No, we should
,”
he told her firmly. “It is too dangerous.
Ainmire is not the only one being
hunted
.”

“
That matters not
,” she said, taking a step forward.

Eiladyr’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
“
Aye, it does
,” he
told her
sternly.
“Very much so.” P
ulling her b
ack against his body, he wrapped
his arms around her waist
.
Resting his chin on her shoulder, Eiladyr held onto her tightly
. “
You are hunted by both Ailill and the Milidh. Why would you risk walking straight into their hands?”

“
I will not go without a fight, and I will not just sit here while Ainmire’s life hangs in the balance!
” she countered, trying to push his hands away.
“Either come with me or let me go.”

He was silent
a moment before he spoke again, voice low, “The risk is too great.”

The priestess struggled against his firm hold.
“Release me,” she insisted in a hiss.

“
Enough
,” he chided
, coercing her back into the cottage.

Shiovra
released a frustrated groan as he pushed her onto her bed.

He stood looking at her with crossed arms. “You are not leaving,” Eiladyr told her. “If I must tie you down to keep you here, then I will. Yet I would hope that it does not come to that.”

She sat on the foot of her bed, slightly surprised by the man’s roughness.

Pulling a bench up, Eiladyr sat down across from her and leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows.

After a long silence, Shiovra asked, “Do you intend to watch me all night?”

“If I must,” he replied honestly.

Sighing, Shiovra fell back on the bed and looked up at the shadows dancing across the roof.
Her thoughts lingered on the mad laughter of the man called Deasún. The fear that had filled her, chilling her bones, remained as a reminder of what Ainmire was to face. Hearing a rustle, she sat up.

Eiladyr walked over to the pile of wood stacked neatly against the wall, grabbing a few pieces before continuing to the hearth. Ad
ding them to the fire, he bent to stir it up a bit.

Standing slowly, Shiovra took a few cautious steps, watching his back the entire time.
As she neared the door, she quickened her pace until she was outside the cottage.

Eiladyr noticed her flight a moment too late. “Shiovra!”

Pulling the door closed behind her, Sh
iovra turned swiftly and gathered the power
of the
element of
earth.
Vines sprouted from the g
round and climbed the cottage door, twisting and weaving together, reaching and stretching.

Eiladyr
pounded on the
other side of the
door. “Have you lost your mind?!” he bellowed in rage
.
The door trembled as he slammed his body into it, but the vines held strong.

Resting her forehead against the door, she whispered, “Forgive me,
Eiladyr
.”

His muffled voice continued to shout after her as she ran down the path and through the fog.
Shiovra
made her way through the dimly lit village and found a horse.
Not bothering to saddle it, she leapt astride and, taking hold of the reins, urged the horse into a gallop and headed for the southwest.

12.
 
TARA’s LOSS

The
men
had felled three of the warriors in the first initial strike with the bows. Shouts of outrage filled the cottage as the warriors drew their weapons, the family forgotten. Bows were cast aside as
blades were drawn without hesitation
.
Odhrán gestured to the
family
and they
ran gratefully from the cottage, escaping the ensuing fight.

Odhrán drew his blade and kicked a table over, knocking
down the first man who came at him
as he
turned
his blade upon
the next. Dodging a drunken warrior’s first, the Milidh
man
brought up his sword pommel to crack into the man’s jaw. He spared
only
a glance at
his
fellow companions to see how they fared.
Daire
fought alongside his own despised father,
the two working well together while Earnán
picked off warriors that lingered to watch.

The Milidh
man
was caught off guard as
he was grabbed from behind by his tunic.
Twisting
his body
,
Odhrán
pulled a dagger from his belt and jabbed the man in the arm
.

Crying out in pain the man released him.

Spinning quickly, Odhrán brought his sword up
and struck the
man
once more through the heart
.
Without waiting for the huntsman to fall,
Odhrán
turned to the two men guarding
a small door at the rear
of the cottage. He
stalked toward the one
on the right and made to attack the warrior’s left.

As Odhrán attacked, the other
guard took the opportunity to launch an attack of his own only to have the Odhrán twist and block it with ease.

Bringing a foot up, Odhrán kicked the man away as he returned focus to his first target. Bringing his sword up, he met that of his prey. And, as he pushed the man’s sword aside with his own, he jerked his other hand forward, thrusting his dagger into the man’s gut. Having felled the warrior, Odhrán turned his attention to the man he had knocked aside only moments before.

Yet just as he found the man, an arrow whistled through the air and struck the huntsman down.

Turning, he found
Daire
lowering his bow and rushing towards him, Ceallach close behind as Earnán fought off the
remaining two warriors.

Flinging the door open, Odhrán rushed into the small room only to find a gruesome sight.

Ainmire lay slumped over a small table, blood pooled around him. Standing behind Ainmire, bloodied sword in hand
,
was
a huntsman with lime washed hair
. His eyes danced madly and his face shone eerily in the flicke
ring
torch light
as he
laughed without restraint.

Odhrán’s hand tightened on his sword.

“Deasún,” Ceallach spat coldly.

“We are too late…” breathed Daire.

Deasún continued to laugh. “Aye, you are too late,” he muttered. “Ainmire’s life is lost, and yours shall be next!”
Bringing his
fi
ngers to his lips he whistled loudly.

A loud crackling filled the air in a deafening roar
.

“
The village is on fire
!” shouted Earnán
from the doorway.

Ceallach swore and turned back to Deasún who continued to laugh as he sheathed his blade. “Farewell.”

“I think not,” growled Odhrán. With a quick snap of the wrist, he flung the dagger at Deasún.

Dodging the dagger, Deasún laughed and gestured to the roof. “If I were you, I would run,” he said, sheathing his blade.

Above them that thatch roof was being quickly consumed by flames.

“Everyone out! We have lost this battle!” Ceallach ordered
, making for the door
.
“Quickly,
before the cottage collapses in on itself!”

Daire and Earnán quickly followed, but Odhrán paused to look back at the laughing man. “You may have won this battle, but do not be so sure of yourself the next time we meet.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Shiovra
brought her
horse
to a halt as the burning village came into sight. Her heart
fell
at the terrible sight.
They were too late, she could feel it. Ainmire was dead.
Her pain at his death was laced heavily with worry for her companions. Taking a deep breath,
Shiovra
urged her horse forward, onward
towards the burning village. With each
step the mare took
, her grip on the reigns became tighter.

Upon entering the village, she brought the horse to a slower
pace
and glanced about frantically
, searching for a familiar face, any familiar face
. The smoke from the fire and brightness of the flames was overwhelming
and her eyes stung. The surviving
villagers fought desperately to quell the fires which
were quickly consuming
their homes
, paying her no mind as she passed
. “Please, Dana,” she breathed, pleading. “Please, by the Dagda, let them be alive!”

She searched desperately, straining her ears with the hopes of hearing one of their voices
. Rounding a cottage, she spotted a small group of villagers struggling to put out the flames on a very large cottage, most likely the chieftain’s cottage. It to
ok her a moment to notice that one of the men was Ceallach Neáll.

Upon closer inspection
, she found
Daire
tending to the wounde
d while Earnán was
beating out fire
with a blanket that
had reached the
dry
grass. Frantically, she searched for Odhrán, finally finding him off to the side of a cottage, dousing a final flame with a bucket of ashes.

Bringing her mare to a halt, Shiovra
leapt to the ground and ran towards Od
hrán, catching him off guard and sending him toppling down
. “You are alive!” she whispered gratefully into his shoulder.

Odhrán looked at her and, after a fleeting moment of surprise, demanded harshly, “what are you doing here?!”

“Trying to help,” she retorted, “but it would appear that I was too late.”

His eyes only darkened as he propped himself up and asked dangerously, “Where is Eiladyr?”