Keeper Of The Light (26 page)

She felt torn in two, torn between wanting desperately to go to Cahir Cullen and do her best to persuade him to leave Coiteann of his own will…and fearing there was nothing she—or anyone—could do to break such a spell. She could not use the Sidhe’s method. Now that she knew what Coiteann had done, knew the darkness and cruelty that had gone into putting such a terrible curse on the amulet, she saw no way to overcome the curse without spells of far greater cruelty than even Coiteann had used.

And then she would think that perhaps Donaill deserved to stay where he was. He had allowed Coiteann close enough to him to drug him, curse him, and bind him to her forever. It had been his choice to spend time with her, even when he had just offered Rioghan a courtship and told her that he wanted only her.

Donaill had known very well what sort of woman Coiteann was. It would never have happened if he had simply stayed away from her. Perhaps it was better, Rioghan told herself, that she found out about him now…found that he was simply one of those men who would never give up the pleasure of other women’s company, no matter how devoted he claimed to be to one.

Yet even as she told herself these things, she would remember, again and again, his smiling face and laughing eyes…his great broad shoulders and boundless strength as she sat behind him on his horse…his determination in driving men like Beolagh away from Sion and from the Sidhe, even though they were his own men… And most of all, she recalled his gentleness, for all his great strength, when he had smiled at her and taken her hand and then bent down to kiss her.

Rioghan knew that she would never meet another man like Donaill.

The Sidhe told her that he still seemed to be himself when doing normal things among the other men: hunting, fishing, playing fidchell, or simply sitting outside and talking during the long, cold winter nights. But he looked at no woman but Coiteann’s, would speak only of Coiteann, insisted he would marry no woman but Coiteann.

His own people might be willing to leave him to his fate—but could Rioghan so coldly do the same?

At last it was the night of the dark of the moon. Rioghan stepped out of her cave, her heavy black cloak swinging about her feet. She looked up at the dark sky, shrouded in cloud, and wrestled with the thought that would not leave her mind. Despite what the Sidhe said, it seemed certain that only a power as dark at that used to curse the amulet could ever hope to break that same curse. But if she must do something so terrible to get Donaill away from another woman, was he really worth it?

Would anything be worth it? Rioghan had only to close her eyes to see his bright gaze and laughing face once again, and then would come the sickening vision of Donaill trapped at Coiteann’s side, his eyes dull and patient and his face as serious as that of a scolded child.

She could not leave him this way. No matter what. The realization came to her that there was nothing she would not do to bring him back to the way he was, even if he was no longer hers. No one deserved to live the way Donaill was living now. Trapped. Controlled. Entranced.

Rioghan looked out into the darkness of the surrounding pine forest. If she was going to use the power of dark magic to save Donaill, the time to gather the things she needed was now, at the dark of the moon. In a moment she found herself walking through the forest, alone in the dark, damp woods save for Scath and Cogar…and, she knew, a few of the ever-present Sidhe.

She walked slowly, almost reluctantly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. She was barely able to see anything in the faint light of the few stars that managed to shine down through the broken clouds, and as she walked farther and farther from the clearing she began to doubt she would find what was required.

Then something caught her eye.

Beneath the brush, hidden at the roots of one of the largest pines, lay something small and broken and dull white in color. Rioghan bent down to look closely at it and found bones—bones from some small creature, most likely a hare, which should be left to return in their own time to the earth, but which she could put to other use. The proper ritual would extract the last of the essence that had once inhabited them, and might release enough power to turn the will of a man under the darkest of curses.

As she gathered the bones, her fingers found something else within them: the rusted, broken blade of an iron dagger. At the cold bite of the metal she instantly dropped it, knowing that this was the weapon used to kill the wild hare whose bones she now hoped to use. But in a moment she lifted it up again, slowly and carefully, for this too would be a powerful talisman if used in the proper spell.

Once the bones and the iron blade were safely gathered up and placed in a small leather bag, she began to dig in the bare earth where the bones and blade had rested. Directly below she found a stone not quite as large as her fist, buried so deep in the earth that it had never seen the light of day. This, too, she placed in her leather bag.

Last of all she cut a piece of deep root from the ancient pine. This root was intended to feed nourishment to the tree, and though the tree would not die it would suffer some harm when its root was torn away—especially when that beneficial root was used to nurture dark power instead of growth and life.

She stood up again, brushing the damp earth and pine needles from the front of her black gown, feeling the very heavy weight of the leather bag that held her collection of dark, hidden, holding, binding things. Did she dare to hope that she could use such things to overpower Coiteann’s dreadful spell?

There was no answer for her now. Rioghan could only lift the heavy bag to her shoulder and turn back down the path that led to Sion—but just as she took the first step, Scath and Cogar shot past her in a mad race toward the clearing as if in answer to the frenzied barking that reached her through the pines.

The clouds closed in overhead, shutting out the starlight. Rioghan had no choice but to find her way in near-total darkness, picking her way along the path and searching out the familiar tree, the fallen log, the crooked boulder that showed her she was getting closer, even as her heart pounded and she wanted nothing more than to bolt through the darkness and get back to Sion.

Finally she could see spots of light ahead through the trees, as the barking of the dogs grew louder and louder. At last Rioghan raced out of the forest into the glaring torchlight of the clearing—and stopped dead at what she saw.

Chapter Twenty-One

The dogs were indeed barking fiercely, and doing all they could to attack the intruders, but their raging was for nothing. Every one of the animals, including Cogar and Scath, thrashed and struggled within the entanglements of three heavy rope nets.

As before, Beolagh and his men had invaded the clearing, though this time they felt free to ride at their leisure or even walk on foot through the grass, since there were no warriors to defend Sion—and all of the dogs were now hopelessly trapped within heavy nets. And so, Rioghan saw with horror, were a few of the Sidhe.

The men of the Sidhe must have come running, as they always did, when the dogs sent up the alarm—but why would they have come out in the open to be get caught like animals in Beolagh’s nets?

Then she saw why. Within the cave, glaring torchlight created harsh moving shadows. The black cowhide hangings were ripped down and thrown aside, and two men walked out of her home with their arms piled high with every last item of value that had lined the walls of the cave.

“Stop!” Rioghan shouted, but her voice was lost amid the noise of her barking, shrieking dogs. She hurried toward the cave, but another movement toward the road forced her once again to stop.

Two men on horseback drove a group of Sidhe ahead of them at swordpoint—and every one of the Sidhe, men and women both, carried a pile of beautiful gold and crystal objects, shining bright in the flaring light of the torches.

“Kieran! Luath!” Rioghan cried, and started to go to them—but then one of the riders drove his horse across her path and dragged the animal to a stop right in front of her.

“Do not, my lady,” said the rider.

The voice was familiar. Looking up, blinking in the torchlight, Rioghan saw Airt looking down at her, holding his sword above her head.

“You?” she said, ignoring the upraised weapon. “You are a part of this?”

“Stay back,” he told her, as his horse swung around. “Stay out of the way and you will not be harmed. You have my word.”

“Your word! The same word you gave to Sabha? The same—”

“They only want the gold. Just stay back, and—”

“Better listen to him, midwife.” Another horse slid to a halt beside her, and she saw Beolagh grinning down. His eyes shone with greed and triumph. “We’ll have the gold, and the dogs and the Little People will not try to stop us—or they will regret it.” He raised his iron sword and pointed it at her, and then jogged his horse over to the netted, struggling dogs and Sidhe. Holding his sword above them, he glared at Rioghan again.

“Will you stay back?” he shouted. “Or shall I silence them? It would be so easy. They are all trapped, and no threat to us any longer.”

Airt turned his horse to face Beolagh. “Leave them. There’s no need to do them any harm. We have the gold and that’s what we came for.”

Beolagh stared hard at the other man for a moment; then to Rioghan’s great relief he lowered his sword and turned his horse away from the nets. He fixed his gaze on the growing pile of treasure, and he trotted past Rioghan, his eyes lighting up again as he looked at it. “You’re right. Let’s get our treasure home. Bercan! Flann! Get it all in the sacks, and then get the nets! Time to go!”

Airt wheeled his horse around, leaning down to grab two of the large cloth sacks clanking with heavy gold. As soon as Airt and three other men were loaded down, Beolagh and Dowan rode back to Rioghan.

“We’re going to pull the nets off now,” Beolagh said. “If you value those creatures’ lives, you’ll call them off.” He wheeled his horse around, and then he and Dowan leaned down from their horses, grabbed a corner of the net, and rode back with it so that it peeled off of the dogs and Sidhe. In a moment, the trapped and struggling creatures were free.

“
Madra! Madra!
”
called Rioghan, and to her relief all of the animals immediately came to her. In a moment the other two nets were pulled off.

Victorious, all the men rode away, jogging down the road with their great load of gold and treasure and dragging their heavy nets behind them.

The dogs stayed close to Rioghan as the Sidhe got slowly to their feet. “Are you hurt? Did they wound you?” Rioghan cried, trying to look at each one in the darkness.

“I do not believe anyone is hurt,” said Kieran, rubbing one arm, “but we should go and see to your home.”

“They were all inside the cave,” said another voice.

“We could not stop them,” whispered a woman, and began to weep.

Rioghan took her by the arm. “Come with me, all of you. If no one is hurt, then I do not care what they might have done with mere objects. Objects are not everything. Even objects of ancient power.”

Together the little group walked through the deep darkness, making their way through the roving, agitated dogs until they reached the mouth of the cave.

Lines of soft orange light glowed at the bottom of her home’s hearth. Kieran picked up one of the men’s fallen, burned-out torches, and he touched it to the coals to light it. As he raised the small, flickering torch, they all stepped inside the cave…and Rioghan caught her breath.

A quick glance showed her that the shelves and niches and ledges of the cave walls had all been stripped bare. But the men had not stopped there. They had all but demolished the small interior of her home. They had started near the entrance, where her wooden chests of fabrics, gowns, and cloaks had been overturned. The clothing had been tossed onto the straw in their search for any gold that might be hidden within. The furs and cushions and heavy wools of the sleeping ledge had all been swept to the floor.

But the far end of the cave was the worst. Every bit of food had been thrown down and broken open—the clay jars of grain, the shelves of dried fruit, the small store of smoked meat. And all of her carefully gathered herbs and medicinal plants had been torn from their hangings on the walls and ceiling and ground into the dirt floor beneath the straw.

Clenching her fists, her breath coming hard, Rioghan looked at the bare walls of the place that had been her home. “It was not enough for them to take any shining, sparkling thing that gained their attention. They had to destroy all that was here in the bargain.”

“We are so sorry, my lady.”

“We will do what we can to put your home to rights.”

“We wanted to stop them, but there were not enough of us.”

Rioghan whirled to face them. “It was not your place to stop them!” she cried. “It was for Donaill to stop them! Or their own king! They are his own men, and Donaill made a promise to all of us here that he would not let them harass us again!”

“Yet he did not come,” said a whispered voice in the shadows.

Rioghan nodded, looking into the distance, looking at nothing. “He did not,” she answered, her voice soft. “He is with
her.
He allowed
her
to get too close to him, and now he is with her.”