Chapter Three
“A missed stitch in time can foretell a different path.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
The doors closed silently behind Conn, and his gaze traveled the length of the long hall of mirrors. It was a place so infinite, he could not even see where it ended. His life was far too vast. On either side, he witnessed his existence reflected within the glass. Each one recorded a date above the paneled mirror. A story unfolding—a movie of his entire life, including his trial.
He quickly made his way past the most recent images of his life, including the battle against the Dark One with the Dragon Knights. There was only light around the gilded edges of the glass. He would defend his actions until his last dying breath.
One mirror caught his attention, and he moved forward. There he stood, arms outstretched, holding the portal of the veil open for Brigid O’Neill, future wife of Dragon Knight, Duncan MacKay. She had wandered to the standing stones with Duncan’s sword and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, she opened the Veil of Ages. Yet, without his assistance—interference, she would have tumbled into an earlier century and not into Duncan’s.
Did he do wrong?
“No,” he growled, furious over his own doubt. There was light around the year Brigid stepped through the stones. Therefore, Conn breathed a sigh of relief and continued on his journey down the hall.
With each passing mirror, memories flooded back within his mind. His fists clenched when he came upon the Battle of Culloden. Many were lost on the battlefield. Good Scottish men he had come to know and respect. How he had longed to take the English Duke of Cumberland and his men back through the veil, banish their memories, and have them retreat. But he stood steadfast in the belief that there was a greater cause—one he prayed to see. Besides, he was not allowed to change the timeline based on his own personal beliefs.
Grumbling a curse, he quickly moved away from the horrible image and made his way further back in the timeline of his life. Adventures at sea glimmered, and he smiled, recalling fonder memories and those he met along the way. One of those was, Grania—Grace O’Malley. A brave and beautiful sixteenth century Irish chieftain. She rivaled Queen Elizabeth and was one of the most magnificent humans he had ever encountered.
Conn continued his walk along the hall, stopping briefly at those he considered friends, including the Irish King, Brian Boru. “I miss your wisdom and wit, my friend. And those strategic chess games,” he uttered softly.
Turning, he froze. The mirror to the left was edged in dark shadows. The year was 936, the battle at Clonmacnoise in Ireland. The King of Munster, Cellachán mac Buadacháin was waving a sword with one hand, and the other he kept firm around a woman’s waist. Conn had no problems recalling the memory. His fists clenched watching the scene unfold. The man was a tyrant—one who had slain the father of his friend, Brian Boru.
“Ye ken what I have?” Cellachán bellowed!
“Nae!” shouted the other man. “She is my daughter and promised to another. Dinnae take her, my Chieftain, I beg ye.”
“I will take the woman as my slave!” The chieftain’s men surrounded him in protection, and the woman gave out a blood-curdling scream, fighting and clawing at her captor.
Conn didn’t need to watch what would happen next. Cold seeped into his bones as he watched himself walk through the crowd of men.
“Will ye not give her to me?” demanded Conn.
“I am nae fool,” the chieftain sneered. “I ken ye want the lass for yourself. Ye can find another to claim, or bed.”
In an instant, Conn’s eyes blazed silver and time halted. All remained fixed—the men frozen where they stood. All but the woman.
He held out his hand. “Do ye trust me, Dervla?
The lass nodded.
“Take my hand. I will see ye safely home.”
Dervla’s hand trembled as she took a hold of Conn’s. “What god are ye?” Her question more of curiosity than of fear.
“Nae, not a god, only a friend.” As he moved her away from the crowd of men, she yanked on his arm.
“What about my father?”
He tipped her chin up with his finger. “I can only save ye.”
The image blurred…faded, but Conn knew what happened next. Her father was killed in a battle—the story of the disappearing girl told in bardic tales.
Conn returned Dervla to her clan. Her future now set on a path to become a powerful druid priestess. However, she decided to ignore the calling and married outside of her clan. Conn had often thought that maybe he should have left her in the care of the brute.
His hand shook as he gently touched the glass. “What should I have done? She was the chosen one.” The contact burnt his fingers, and he drew back. And there in the shadows of the trees, he witnessed another young woman, heavily cloaked. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as her hands clawed at the tree.
“Sweet Mother Danu!” he rasped. “What have I done?”
“You saved the wrong lass,” stated the low voice behind Conn.
He turned abruptly. “Father,” he whispered and swallowed. Bowing, he stated in a firm voice, “King Ansgar.”
Both men stood apart, neither reaching out for the other. Time lengthened and Conn stared into eyes that bore the same color as his own. Hair the color of golden light was cropped short, and for the first time, Conn saw silver strands around his father’s temples. Worry infused his spirit. He glanced over his father’s shoulder.
“Your mother will join us shortly. She deemed it would be wise if we met first.”
Exhaling slowly, Conn nodded. “I have been away far too long.”
“Agreed.”
Conn knelt on one knee. “Forgive me, my king.”
After several long moments, his father placed a gentle hand on his head. “Rise, my son.”
Standing slowly, Conn noticed hurt reflected in his father’s eyes. Never before had he witnessed such a display of emotion from him. His father ruled with an iron fist when it came to Conn, but always showed a softer side toward his sister, Abela. Disquiet and guilt settled inside of him. Words failed him.
“Let us move away from this particular event,” uttered his father quietly.
They made their way to an alcove off to the side of the mirrors, and his father motioned for Conn to sit beside him on the marbled bench.
Conn placed his hands on his thighs. The time to speak clearly was now. He had no idea when the council would demand him to return for sentencing. “I understand the key of the realms is now in your possession.”
“Yes. And before you ask the next question, I support you fully with what you did to vanquish the monster, Lachlan, and the Dark One.”
Stunned, Conn turned toward his father. “Truly?”
His father nodded. “It was a destiny…foreseen. Though, I wished you would have sought approval from your king—or the elders.”
“But not when I asked you over a thousand years ago? When the evil threatened that time within the mortal realm? I came to you. I could have stopped the Dark One—”
He held up his hand to stay Conn’s words. “You would not have defeated him. Yes, you’re a Fenian Warrior, but not a seer.”
Conn felt the blood drain from his face. “Death would have come to my brothers? Me?”
Frowning, his father shrugged. “I am not disposed to discuss the threads of fate.”
“But yet, we are here to argue over another’s thread of life.”
“A human life,” snapped the king. “You are a Fenian Warrior—Fae! Do you not think I understand what happened with the life you saved, but ignored the one in shadows?” He jabbed a finger to Conn’s chest. “You had befriended the woman, Dervla. You had feelings, and as such, your mind became clouded, unable to see clearly as a warrior. In the end, you failed to see the one human in need of your services. You sought out the light, but the real beauty was hidden in the shadows near the tree.”
Breathing heavily, Conn tried to keep his voice calm. “Are we not taught to love these humans? Is it not what was spoken to me from the great elders? From the dragons?”
His father’s eyes flashed silver in anger. “Not for a Fenian Warrior! You should have no human friends, save only those from the Brotherhood! Is that not what you trained centuries for? Let me remind you, son, you were the one that argued and presented your case before me. You insisted the Brotherhood was your calling. In the end, I relented. I witnessed your determination and believed this was your true path.” He shook his head. “Unknowingly, you have spent far too long among the humans and have developed their own traits—forgotten what it meant to be a warrior. Indulged in their lifestyle, forsaking your own here. Made rash decisions, which I have overlooked and argued in your favor to the council and elders.”
Conn stood abruptly. His father’s words slashed at his heart, and he had no wish to sit next to the man. “If this human’s life thread had unraveled, why did you not summon me back to the council? A thousand years has passed. Why order me to stand trial now?”
His father sighed heavily and stood. Striding to the mirror, he kept his gaze on the scene. “An error in judgment,” he uttered softly. “It was your first transgression, and the Fae seer alerted me to the situation. She was unable to see the future clearly for this human and the generations that followed. Therefore, I asked—no requested that the knowledge be kept silent.”
Stunned by his father’s declaration, he walked to his side. “You’ve kept this secret hidden? For me?”
The king glanced at him. “For my son.”
“Yet, once the key was used in the great battle with the Dragon Knights, your father had no choice but to stand aside and let the council review your deeds,” stated a soft voice behind him.
Conn turned. Emotions overcame him, and he struggled to get the word out. “Mo…Mother.”
She cupped his cheek, tears streaming down her face. “It is so very good to see you, my son.”
Closing his eyes, he let her love fill him as she embraced him. Conn’s hardened warrior armor cracked open, and the Fae prince emerged. Holding her close, he inhaled her scent—one of honeysuckle. Emotions that had stayed in, controlled and locked away, were now set free with her simple touch. “I have missed you,” he whispered.
She drew back. Casting her gaze over his features, she smiled. “I thought never to see you again.”
He placed his forehead on hers. “Forgive me.”
“Shh…no need. You have requested to see us, and I feared you would not have a chance to speak with your father and me.”
Conn kissed her cheek and moved away from his parents. “The life of a warrior can leave one feeling numb. Perhaps that is why I stayed away. I did not want you to see me as an unfeeling Fae.” He rubbed his eyes vigorously and then glanced at the shadowed mirror. “Although, there are those that would argue I let out sentiments toward the humans.”
His parents each came to his side, and he felt their strength seep into his bones. “Remember, Conn, you chose this path of a Fenian Warrior. Your deeds have saved thousands,” stated his father.
Glancing at the king, Conn nodded. “Thank you for believing in me. For keeping this secret. Although, I deem more was wrought by not bringing me forward to the council at the time of my error. We could have solved this at the time of my indiscretion.”
The king gestured to the mirror. “The loom of fate had already unraveled. To attempt a repair of the damage could have altered another life. I fully expected a time would come when all would be revealed.”
“Let us remove ourselves from this scene of your life,” suggested his mother.
As they made their way further back within the centuries, the queen waved her hand in an arc and light shimmered on the path in front of them. “Before you are escorted back to the Fae council your sister wishes to speak with you.”
“Why did you let—”
His mother placed a finger on his lips. “It is Abela’s journey and not yours to question. Did she not fully support you when you left to become a warrior?”
Swallowing, Conn nodded slowly. His sister never uttered one negative comment when he had made his announcement to the family about joining the Brotherhood.
“But I did cry,” added a soft feminine voice—one filled with song.
Conn turned at the sound of his sister speaking. She was a vision to behold. Where his hair was blond with silver streaks, his twin’s was as black as ebony, cascading around her in soft waves. Her eyes blazed with the many colors of different gems, instead of the lavender of their people. This was not the sister he’d left a hundred years ago. She had grown from Fae royalty to become part of the Mother Danu. He stood mesmerized.
Holding a silver staff in one hand, she smiled at him. “Come forward, Fenian Warrior.”
Making a slight bow, he proceeded to walk to her.
The room opened up to reveal a crystal cavern of many colors. Two oak trees stood as sentries, their branches swaying gently. The air was warm and inviting, luring Conn forward. Her power enveloped him, and he found it difficult to breathe. There was so much beauty to absorb. Lights shimmered before his eyes, and he felt the need to be free from his body.
She raised an outstretched hand. “Relax, Brother.”
“Too much…” Conn wiped a hand across his brow. “The power is tremendous.” Taking her hand, he embraced his sister in a hug.
“You are in the womb of the Mother,” she uttered softly.
“Abela,” he whispered and placed a kiss on her cheek.
She stood back and gazed into his eyes. “Walk with me.”
They wandered along a path filled with wildflowers, and the cavern opened up to reveal a world filled with birds, animals, and trees. Several hummingbirds flitted near his sister, and she smiled at them. With each step, his body began to ease from the strain of the past few months. Glancing in all directions, he was in awe of the majestic beauty surrounding them.
“And here I thought the Fae realm was remarkable,” he commented.
“You’ve been away far too long,” chided Abela.
Conn glanced sideways at her. “So I’ve been told.”
She chuckled and for a brief moment Conn saw glimpses of the sister he had left a century ago.
Neither spoke as they continued to amble along the soft path. The rich scent of earth filled him.
Abela led him to a bench overlooking a waterfall. As they took their seats, he leaned back, studying his sister. He only had one burning question. Why?
Sighing deeply, she kept her gaze outward. “You forget, Conn. I can read your mind. Why did I choose this life? Is that your burning question?”
“Yes. You loved your life in the Fae realm. Each day was filled with joy—a new party to plan, a garden to organize, flowers to bundle. But this—” He flung his hands upward. “It might be serene and the most stunning place on this planet, but I never thought my sister would seal herself off from her own family and people.”
The air cooled around them. “Remember, you have not set one foot in this realm for over a hundred Fae years. I am no longer the young woman you remember.” She turned fully toward him. “The day you left was one etched on my spirit. I cried for days, since I knew that during your training our link—our bond would be severed.” Abela turned her head away. “Afterward, I needed to find a purpose to my life, too. My heart guided me to the temple of the Mother Danu one day, and I’ve never regretted my decision to become one of her priestesses. On no account did I ever question your calling, so I ask that you respect mine, as well.”
Conn reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I never knew.”
She shrugged. “How could you? And you never came back, which made it only worse for us. I longed to share my journey and hear about yours.”
“Are you happy?”
The smile she gave him radiated over her entire body. “Yes. Mother and father came to see me quite often after I passed the solitary time period. They love to share what’s happening in the cities. There will come a time when I shall venture out of here. Yet, for now, this is where I will remain. I am here to serve Her.”
“We both have chosen our own paths, though who will claim the throne?”
She touched his hand. “When the time comes, I’m positive our king and queen will choose wisely.”
Abela stood and angled her head to the side as if listening to someone. “Father states the Fae council has requested your return.” She turned her gaze toward him. “Are you ready?”
Standing, Conn grasped both her hands. “You pass no judgment on me?”
“Never,” she whispered. “I have honored and respected the warrior you have become. Your name and deeds have spread throughout the kingdom. Regardless of what has or will happen the people adore you.”
He kissed her hands. “I will miss you.”
“Kneel, Fenian Warrior,” she commanded in the voice of an ancient being.
As he knelt before his sister, she placed her hands on his head, and he closed his eyes. “Where your path leads, is your choice Conn MacRoich. Choose wisely, guard, and protect those in your charge. This will be your greatest challenge. Learn to listen with your heart—your Fae heart.”
I love you, Brother. Be well. Look for me in the soft breezes of the rowan and oak trees, or the kiss of rain upon your cheek. I will always be there for you.
When Conn opened his eyes, he found himself kneeling on the floor of the Hall of Remembrance—all alone. His father and mother were gone. Standing slowly, he placed a fist over his heart. “Be well, too, Lady Abela.”
Turning around, he walked out of the hall fully prepared to face whatever judgment the council decreed.