To Ride A Púca (9 page)

With a wave of his hand, Bren indicated Liam and the red haired woman at his side. “This is Liam and Irial,” he said. He motioned to the other girl, a freckle-faced brunette. “And this is Kyla.”

The other young man straightened his tunic as he looked Neala up and down. Behind brown locks in need of cutting, brown eyes sparkled as if they liked what they saw. “And I’m Cian, it’s a pleasure to meet ye,” he said in a deep voice that sounded as if he’d lowered it for her benefit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet ye all,” Neala said.

The red-headed young woman gave her a smile that lit up her face. “And ye as well, Neala,” she said.

“I’d best get Neala home before dark. I’ll meet up with ye all tonight when I get back,” Bren said.

The group called out farewells and waved as Neala and Bren rode off. It was impossible not to notice the raised eyebrows and sly looks Liam and Cian shot Bren’s way. Clearly they thought more was going on than a ride home.

“Friends of yers?” she asked.

“
Tá
, you could say that,” he said. By the sound of humor in his voice, Neala was pretty sure he was smiling.

With Bren’s warm arms around her waist, concentrating on the road before them was no easy task. She let her inner walls down so she could see the energy trail she and Dierdre had left behind. It wasn’t hard to find where it led into the forest. A few steps later they slipped into the tall trees and left the village behind.

For a long time the only sound was Dubh’s heavy footfalls through the thick underbrush of vines and ferns. The silence started to wear on Neala, making her wonder if Bren was angry.

“I didn’t mean to pull ye away from work and friends. Sorry about that,” she said

“No worries. I was glad to get out of there anyway,” he said.

He fell silent again. Not being able to see his face and get a feel for what he was thinking was driving Neala crazy. The sixth sense that allowed her to feel energy told her he was content and happy. But then, as much as the man meditated it was no wonder. He could probably be in the middle of a battle and seem that way. Yesterday he had told her that he mediated nearly every day to gain better control over his power.

The silence soon became too much for her to bear.

“I only wanted to bring yer ma somethin’ to start repayin’ her for the healin’ and here I have put ye both out again,” she said.

“That’s kind of ye, but me ma doesn’t want payment. She only wants ye to be safe,” he said.

Realizing this conversation was going to go in circles that might eventually make Bren mad, Neala changed the subject.

“I’ve been wonderin’ about the contemplation ye taught me yesterday. Is that the only way to ground me power?”

That was all it took to get him to talk the rest of the way there. While the subject wasn’t that fascinating to her, she loved listening to him talk. They were at the three-foot high wall of stacked rocks that bordered her land in no time at all it seemed.

Neala fought back a sigh and reined Dubh in. She wasn’t ready to part ways with Bren yet.

“That went by fast,” Bren said as he swung a leg over and dropped to the ground, regret heavy in his voice.

With a tilt of her head, the veil of Neala’s hair hid her smile. “It did,” she agreed.

Bren reached around his back and grabbed the package he had taken from his smithy shop. He handed it up to her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Somethin’ I made for ye, to help keep ye safe,” he said.

A vulnerability that she hadn’t seen before covered his face. Whatever the gift was, the tightness around his lips made it seem like he was worried about her reaction. It was heavy and solid and only made her feel worse about how much she owed him and his ma. Not that she minded owing Bren, but it still made her feel like a bit of a burden.

“Ye shouldn’t have. I already owe ye so much,” she said.

He surprised her by nodding. “Ye do. Which is exactly why ye have to accept this,” he said.

That made absolutely no sense to her. She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Open it.”

Since she couldn’t argue with that, she opened it. Inside a leather sheath was a finely crafted dagger. The pommel was a crescent moon of steel, the grip was cherry wood, and the hand guard was steel with thick knotwork across it that reminded Neala of Bren’s necklace. She drew it from the sheath and marveled at the perfectly polished, razor sharp double-edged blade. It was far more valuable than anything she’d ever held save for her brother’s sword. True, her family had a small chest of treasure, but she had never touched any of it.

“Bren, ye cannot give this to me,” she whispered.

The patient look on his face told her he had expected her to argue. “Yes I can,” he said.

“No. It’s too valuable.”  

“I made it meself out of leftover steel. It didn’t cost me a thing,” he said.

It may not have cost him a thing but if he sold it the coin could feed him for at least two weeks. She looked away from the determination in his eyes and tried to hand the dagger back. His hands wrapped around both the dagger and her hands and he stepped in close, pressing it to her stomach. Those beautiful green eyes of his stared deep into her and his chest leaned against her leg. It was distracting and completely unfair.

She started to protest but he rose up on his toes and placed a finger against her lips. The touch burned in a wonderful way that made her eyes fly open wide.

“No arguin’. Ye owe me, remember?” he said as he removed his finger.

“How will ye givin’ this to me repay ye?”

“Ye’ll be safer if ye have this and that will help me sleep at night,” he said.

The fact that he was worried about her, as well as the vision she got of him sleeping at night, silenced her as surely as his touch had. She felt bad for making him worry but was kind of happy that he did.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make ye worry. Ridin’ alone was a mistake, I know,” she said.

Dubh side-stepped away from the pressure of Bren leaning against him and Neala fought back a sigh of disappointment.

“We’ll meet tomorrow and I’ll teach ye how to use it,” Bren said.

Neala brightened, both at the thought of seeing him tomorrow and at learning how to use a dagger. It was hard to hide her eagerness but she did her best.

“Shall we meet in the same place we did last time?” she asked.

He started to walk backwards, stepping deftly around or over ferns and vines as if he had eyes in the back of his head. In a way she supposed he did. By using his energy he would be able to feel every living thing around him like different points of pressure. She knew because she could do it too.

“We shall. I’ll see ye just past noon then?” he asked as he stepped around a bush without looking.

“Yes.”

After shooting her a big smile, he turned and jogged off into the trees.

A quick scan of the wall revealed a low spot a few yards down. Neala walked Dubh to it and he easily hopped over. Relief washed over her the moment his hooves touched down on her clan’s land. That near encounter by the river had scared her much more than she had let herself believe. Now that she was alone and safe the full force of her fear hit her, bringing tears back to her eyes. Clutching the dagger to her chest, she urged Dubh into a canter. She was tired of feeling weak and afraid. That would change starting tomorrow.

7

When Neala crested the hill she saw Bren in the shadows leaning against a tree. Satisfaction shot through her. True, she was using her ability to see energy, but that wasn’t exactly cheating. She rode over to him, slid from Dubh’s back, and landed gracefully in the grass. Today was starting out so much better than yesterday.

He gave her an approving look that lingered only for a moment upon her cleavage. “
Diaduit
,” he said.

A flush spread through her at hearing the old language, well that and the boldness of his gaze.  

“
Diaduit
,” she answered with a smile.

Bren pushed away from the tree and approached while she removed Dubh’s bridle and sent him away. The stallion wandered only as far as the nearest patch of grass before dropping his head to graze. Neala hung the bridle on a branch and tossed the long braid of her brown hair over her shoulder. She had come prepared for fight training in a pair of breeches and a tunic that wasn’t quite as loose as she preferred. It couldn’t be helped though. Since her growth spurt last year none of her tunics fit very well. This once laced up the front and showed off why it didn’t fit loosely anymore. She had worn it on purpose, not to impress Bren, but to distract him. A girl needed every advantage in a fight.

Bren’s eyes flicked to her chest again and he licked his lips before lifting his gaze to her face. A flush brightened his cheeks.

“Did ye bring the dagger?” he asked in a voice that sounded a bit strained.

Neala tried not to smile too much and torture him further but she only half succeeded. “Of course,” she said.

The dagger was nestled in a special secondary sheath that she had sewn into the back of her breeches, making it easy to conceal so she could wear it anywhere. Her parents had no clue she’d been carrying it around all day. Last night she had spent a few candlemarks practicing drawing it. Her tunic got in the way a bit but she was figuring it out.

As he walked up to her Bren pulled a dagger out of his boot, not even missing a step. “A dagger’s biggest advantage is that it’s easy to hide. Don’t pull it out to scare someone off. Draw it only to use it,” he said.

She nodded but he still gave her a stern look.

“Are ye prepared to cut someone?” he asked.

“I’m ready to kill if I have to,” she said as she straightened to stand taller.

Slowly Bren’s expression changed from skeptical to curious and, if she read it right, a bit disturbed. She felt compelled to explain so he wouldn’t think her a violent barbarian.

“Before me brother would agree to teach me how to fight he said I had to make sure I was prepared to kill to protect meself. He said I had to make peace with it long before the fight ever happened.”

The disturbed look in his eyes faded a little. “Yer brother sounds wise, though I don’t necessarily agree with him allowing his little sister to fight.”

Heat flushed through her and her fists clenched tight. “Me brother wanted me to be able to defend meself. He understood why I wanted to learn to fight. And he didn’t allow me, the choice was mine to make,” she forced out through clenched teeth.

Hands held up in a placating gesture, Bren shook his head. “Easy, I meant no disrespect to ye or him. I was just surprised that yer older brother would be willin’ to put ye in danger.”

Neala took a deep breath to calm herself so she wouldn’t scream. “He didn’t put me in danger, life did. He was protectin’ me by teachin’ me how to defend meself. If ye don’t want to teach me more, then fine, I’ll leave.”

She turned to do just that but Bren caught her arm, his grip gentle but firm. The sad look in his eyes doused a bit of her anger.

“I’m sorry, truly. I’m a dolt for openin’ me mouth. Please, I want to teach ye,” he said. As he spoke his hand rubbed up and down her arm, leaving a pleasant buzzing of energy behind.

Repressing the urge to tear away from him and storm off, she sighed and nodded. She had to learn to fight better, regardless of whether or not she agreed with her teacher’s views.

He held his dagger out. “Any weapon is an extension of ye and yer power. All the blocks and strikes ye know can be used with a dagger in hand,” he said.

Arms moving slowly, he demonstrated a rising block, low block, and a punch that would impale an opponent. Understanding dawned as she watched him go through a few more strikes. The connection to basic hand-to-hand fighting was obvious. Eager to try the moves, Neala drew her own dagger.

“Where did ye have that?” Bren asked with wide eyes.

The look of shock on his face made her feel very clever. “In the back of my waistband,” she said. There was more than one advantage to wearing breeches instead of dresses.

He nodded and made a sound of approval before encouraging her to try out the blocks and strikes. Neala threw herself into the workout with abandon, listening hard to his critiques and soaking in his praise.

It turned out Bren was a good teacher. He listened when he needed to and explained when she needed him too. Before the sun could move much across the sky, sweat was beading on Neala’s brow. She didn’t care though because it felt like she’d earned it. Besides, Bren seemed like the type of man who didn’t mind if a woman sweated. At least the long looks he kept giving her made her think so.

They paused to catch their breath and get a drink.

“I think ye’re ready,” Bren said as he hopped down off the boulder he’d been sitting on.

Setting the waterskin aside, Neala eyed him curiously. “For what?”

Giving her that half-crooked smile of his, Bren drew his dagger. “This.”

The pressure in the air changed around him, increasing in a way that made Neala want to step back. Resisting the impulse, she stood her ground. Energy built around his hands, she could see it as a green and red mist that surrounded them. Then his energy did something completely unexpected; it traveled down the length of the blade and engulfed it. It looked as though the blade was glowing.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered as she leaned close, reaching out to touch it. To her surprise, she couldn’t get through the energy to reach the blade. His power was too strong.

“I’ve channeled me power into the blade. This makes every strike more powerful and makes me blade nearly unbreakable,” he said.

Bringing her hand close to it made her fingers tingle and called up her own power. “But then yer enemies would see it and know what ye are,” she said.

The glow faded and the pressure in the air dropped as Bren’s power withdrew. As it pulled back into him it tempted her power to follow it. That was something that had never happened before. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, it made her heart beat faster. The confused look he gave her made the feeling fade.