Chapter Six
“To weave a broken thread, you must first seek out the untruth.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Seneca’s voice rang clear in the hall. “Your deeds are many, Conn MacRoich—legendary. However, you have bent too many laws for a purpose we see as human, not Fae. We will pass judgment on this one.”
Grumblings from other council members echoed within the room. Seneca held up her hand to silence the outburst.
She turned her gaze to Conn. “You have witnessed the break in the veil?”
Conn stood before the Fae council, gazing at each member. “I have noted the event.”
Closing her eyes, she lifted her staff high. “The Mother has spoken.” Upon opening them, she continued. “She has given you a quest. The descendants from this specific branch of the O’Callaghan have drifted from their true course in history. There were many great healers—some blessed with the gift of sight. However, they chose to hide in fear and distrust. There was none to guide them. When you saved the wrong woman, you—Conn altered their history.”
He arched a brow. “You want me to return and save the lass hiding among the trees? Done.”
Seneca’s smile sent a chill down Conn’s spine. “If it was so simple, anyone could undo what you have done.” She slowly shook her head. “No, you must thread a new fate into the O’Callaghan of the present. She—Ivy Kathleen is the last of her family. Her parents wove distrust and fear into her at a young age. You must show her the light of her gift.”
How difficult could it be, he mused. “I will show her the path of the Fae,” he announced.
“I am not finished,” protested Seneca. “Once you are taken from this realm, you will be on your own. No powers will you be granted, Conn MacRoich, except those within your bloodline. You are not permitted to seek out other Fenian Warriors for assistance. The only knowledge you have is your own and of the humans.”
His anger simmered below the surface. “And how am I supposed to bring light—transform the mind of a human? What you ask of me—”
“Beneath you?” she interrupted.
He shifted his stance. “You did not let me finish. Must I become human to guide her? Why not grant me my full powers—those of a Fenian, so that she may travel a new path?”
“Because this journey is not only for the O’Callaghan woman, but for you, as well.”
“For what purpose?”
Seneca sighed. “Only you can find the answer, Conn.”
“And if I fail?”
The room became eerily quiet and several of the Fae members lowered their gaze. “Then death will come to you both,” stated Seneca softly.
Conn feared if he spoke, his words would bellow throughout the kingdom. Fools, all of them! Why didn’t they let him slip back through the Veil of Ages and undo the injustice? No, they treated him like an apprentice.
Did not the Brotherhood have their own rules? A code of conduct? Temper the burning rage, brother. Abela’s voice whispered gently within his mind.
Conn exhaled. “How long do I have?”
“Until Samhain—when the doors to both realms are open. If your quest is not completed—”
“Yes, as you have stated. I am aware of the dire consequences.” He bowed.
Turning around, Conn waited until the massive doors were opened. There to greet him was Ronan and one other—Taran, another Fenian Warrior and friend.
Conn smiled at both of them. “I now have two to escort me?”
Taran stepped forward. “Did you really think I would let any guard usher you out of the Fae realm?” He leaned near Conn. “Let us make our way from the prying eyes of the council members.”
As they moved along the corridor, Conn paused. “It is good to see you, Taran.”
The Fenian Warrior clamped a hand on Conn’s shoulder. “Did you believe that any in the Brotherhood would abandon you? We stand as one—always. Besides, we all harbor bitter feelings upon learning that the Fae council has decided to make you the example for all to see.”
Conn narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”
“Let us make our way out of the castle. We can continue this conversation at the southern gate.”
The moment they stepped through the crystal gates of the palace, Ronan waved his hand and all three vanished. Appearing at the trees near the southern gate, they walked forward. At the base of a rowan tree, Conn noticed his clothing and shoes were for the human realm.
Folding his arms over his chest, Conn waited for Taran to give his account.
“You should have seen this coming, my friend,” stated Taran.
Ronan chuckled. “He does not understand.”
Taran rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” He gazed at Ronan and then back to him.
“Spit it out,” demanded Conn.
“You’re the prince. What better way for them to show the other warriors that even the most elite are not protected.”
“Enough!” He turned his back on the warriors. “When I accepted the binding rings around my arms and the Brotherhood emblazed my chest and back with the ancient tattoos, I no longer became royalty. I gave up all claims.” Conn stormed over to the entrance between his homeland and the earthly realm. “There is not one among us that hasn’t tampered in one way or another with the threads of fate on the loom of humans.”
Stripping free of his Fae clothing, he heard their gasp when they witnessed his back no longer was marked with the sacred tattoos. They had been removed the moment he was sent to his prison. Now, only his arms reflected the ancient symbols of his Fae lineage. Those could never be taken from him. Slipping into his human clothing and shoes, he glanced over his shoulder and looked at his friends. “As you can see, I no longer bear the markings of the Brotherhood.”
“Yet, you will always be the prince. It’s in your blood,” argued Taran.
Ronan scratched behind his ear. “Aye, I cannae deny your statements, Conn. I am not judging ye, although, it was not I who stayed away from the Fae. Moreover, the council placed ye on a higher standard than the rest of us. Ye may not like the words I speak, but ’tis truth.”
“What was the outcome of the council?” asked Taran.
Conn snorted. “I must guide the descendant of the one I did not save. She has the gift of sight, but hides in the shadows.”
“And how do you propose helping this human without your powers? Without being able to manipulate time?” Taran demanded.
“Unsure.” He gestured outward. “I venture forth into this world with only the knowledge I possess and my Fae blood.” Glancing at the warriors, he added, “And I am to have no contact with anyone from the Brotherhood.”
“A true quest, indeed,” uttered Ronan softly.
Taran spread his hands wide. “You were always on a quest from the moment you were initiated as a warrior. Now, a greater one is given to you. Go forth—conquer, save, learn, and then return to us once more.”
Conn fisted his hands on his hips and gazed outward. The veil shimmered, but for the first time in many centuries, he had no desire to enter the human side. “I have no idea where this woman dwells,” he protested.
“Look to the village of Glennamore. ’Tis our parting gift to ye,” replied Ronan.
The tension in his shoulders eased. He knew the village well, since it was where he made a wrong choice over a thousand years ago. Turning fully toward his friends, Conn placed a fist over his heart. “Honor, wisdom, and strength to you both.”
In a flash of dazzling lights, he passed through the realm to the land above into the human world.
****
The late August heat seared like a burning knife through his head and several times, Conn had to find relief under a tree. The blistering sun was merciless, and he longed for a cool breeze or rain shower to squelch the agonizing pain. The moment he had stepped through the veil from his home to the Hill of Tara, he had experienced a wave of dizziness. Never before had the heat, cold, rain, or snow bothered him. Was this his punishment, too? Or a side effect when they stripped him of all powers? Regardless, he prayed in time his energy would return.
His mouth was parched, and he longed for a cool stream to slake the heat from his body and mind. He glanced up at the sky. “Did you make me human?” If he weren’t so exhausted from walking, he would have laughed at the absurdity.
Leaning his head against the cool bark of the tree, he concluded he had walked for three hours based on the direction of the sun. He tried to hitch a ride, but the small country road was devoid of any drivers.
If only he could make it to his apartment in Dublin. There he would be able to get transportation to this village of Glennamore. But he couldn’t fathom the length or the correct road to lead him there.
He looked down at his hands. “I am Fae, not human.”
A leaf fluttered down and brushed against his cheek. He plucked it up and twirled it between his fingers. The colors, though muted, glimmered in the late afternoon light. Releasing his hold, he let it glide to the ground, where it transformed immediately into a vivid shade of green.
Hope surged forth within him. “Could it be possible? My body may lack my warrior powers, but my blood is of the ancients,” he growled. “You cannot take what is already mine.”
Closing his eyes, he placed both hands upon the ground. “Hear my plea those within the animal kingdom. Seek me out, for I require your aid. I am lost and need your guidance and transportation.”
The energy surged forth—burned through his veins and out his fingers.
When he opened his eyes, his vision became clouded. Conn stood slowly on shaky limbs as he used the tree for support. Wiping a hand across his brow, he realized the simple attempt to communicate magically had left him weak. Nevertheless, he knew the message was sent when the cry of a hawk pierced the silence of the hot afternoon.
Smiling, he moved away from the tree and followed her movement. She circled high on the wind, but her meaning was clear. Conn followed the direction of the bird, and with each step, renewed strength filled his being. Shading his eyes from the glare of the sun, his smile grew broader. A horse stood grazing in the field off the side of the road.
Moving slowly toward the animal, he knelt on one knee. Using the language of his homeland, he spoke softly. A light breeze blew the hair from the nape of his neck, and he waited. The horse shook his head—clearly a sign that the beast did not intend to leave his lush meal.
Conn rubbed a hand over his chin. “Then I shall wait.” Sitting on the ground, he placed his hands on his bent knees.
The horse stomped his front hoof in obvious agitation.
“I have no plans on claiming you. I merely require you to take me near Dublin. Would you deny this Fae warrior?”
This time the horse turned its back on Conn.
He smiled, since the animal reminded him of one he owned many centuries ago. A fierce beast, his Brutus. Conn didn’t know which was worse—his foul temper or the stubborn attitude. The horse gave no regard to his position in this world, and many a time they both butted heads. Conn smiled at the forgotten memory. “Should I tell you a wee story about one of the greatest warhorses that lived?”
The animal glanced over his shoulder.
“Curious? Well, the majestic animal stayed by my side during many battles, especially the one at Culloden in Scotland. He charged forth with no fear—a fine leader for the other horses. Though a stubborn brute, he was my friend until he took his last breath in my arms.”
Conn watched as the horse turned around and trotted slowly toward him. He remained sitting on the ground and lifted his hand up. “His name was Brutus, and I am called, Conn MacRoich, Fenian Warrior for the Fae. Greetings.”
The animal nudged his hand in welcome.
Standing, he patted the animal. “I thank you for your service.”
Mounting the horse, he surveyed the area. “Take me as close as you reckon to the southern part of the city.”
When the horse refused to budge, Conn rolled his eyes. “Please?”
Instantly, the stubborn beast took off, racing across the meadow and heading toward the hills. Conn gripped the animal firmly, issuing a curse as the scenery blurred. He focused ahead and noticed they were heading east. He only prayed the animal was not leading him astray. Brutus would be proud of you, my new friend. His stubbornness was his strength, as is yours.
As the setting sun dipped low behind them, Conn marveled at the animal’s endurance. Never once did it lessen its stride—swift and steady the horse galloped through the countryside. When the first sign emerged on the road in the far distance, he urged the beast onward. Soon, Conn could make out the wording and relief coursed through him. Dublin was only eight kilometers away.
They galloped past the sign and continued at a steady pace until lights from the city glimmered in front of them. The animal eased in his pace and took Conn over a hill and down past another road. When he deemed they could go no farther, Conn gave the horse a gentle pat. The main road lay ahead of them and it was one he knew well.
The horse’s steps slowed, and he wandered over to a tree a few feet away from the road. Conn dismounted and surveyed his surroundings. Since he knew the area, he surmised he had at least an hour to make it to his apartment, which was located on the outer edge of the city.
Turning around, he stroked the horse’s mane. “I thank you for your service today, mighty beast. May the Fae guide you back to your home.”
The horse nudged his shoulder and gave a low snort.
“Yes, I would be honored to call on you again, if I should need your service. Be well, my friend.”
Chuckling softly, Conn gave the animal one final pat before heading toward the city. The last rays of sunlight vanished into the night as he traveled on the road. The first star winked down at him, and he nodded in reverence and continued on his journey. His body returned to a normal rhythm. Though his Fenian powers were gone, the blood of the Fae poured through his veins—rejuvenating him.
An hour later, Conn took two steps up the brick stairs to his apartment. Lifting the potted container of herbs, he drew forth the key embedded within the soil. Sealed by magic decades ago, the herbs maintained their health—never requiring water or trimming. A perfect place to keep his key hidden.
Stepping into his home, he closed the door gently and leaned against the wood. Sighing deeply, he pinched the bridge of his nose. The days—damn, the months had taken a toll on him mentally. He was now a man caught between both worlds and for the first time, Conn felt lost.
“You are a Fenian Warrior for the Fae,” he muttered to the empty room.
Quickly shoving aside his doubts and weariness from his trek across the country, he went into his kitchen and pulled out a beer from the fridge. Popping the top with one finger, he guzzled deeply, savoring the Irish liquid. Wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, he wandered into the den.
Sinking into his chair behind his desk, he glanced around the room. Pictures of ancient maps, some of battles, towns, and castles, covered most of the walls. A few of them were quite valuable, but to the untrained eye, just simple drawings. His handiwork, which began centuries ago, now came back to haunt him. He had spent many hours jotting down precise notes and etchings, transferring his work onto parchment and then later within frames. There was no thought process to his work, only a desire to become one with the memory of the time period.
He sipped more of his beer and his focus settled on one particular etching. A map of Waterford in the tenth century. Narrowing his eyes, he slammed his beer on the oak desk. It was the beginning of his time spent with Dervla.
Standing he walked over to the map. Tracing a path with his finger on the glass along the roads, he snarled. “Were you a pawn in your father’s game, Dervla? Or were you the mastermind? They say you married outside of your clan. Why?”
Questions without answers, and Conn required more information.
Instantly, he smiled. Walking back to his desk, he moved the chair aside. Turning around, his fingers glided under the painting of his friend, Cuchulainn and his hounds, until he found the small latch. With one touch, the painting opened to reveal a safe on the wall. His fingers deftly turned the combination lock and soon it opened. Pulling forth his passport and cash, he sealed everything.
Reaching for the large satchel he kept on the nearby couch, he stuffed the items inside and proceeded to go into his bedroom. Dumping the bag onto his bed, he rubbed a hand over his face. He would pack light, since there was only one place he could seek out more information. As soon as he acquired what he needed, Conn would return to Ireland.
His laugh turned bitter. “You may have forbidden me to have contact with the Brotherhood, but you didn’t say anything about dealing with a Dragon Knight and a Bard for the Fae.”
Pulling out his cell phone, Conn proceeded to make arrangements for his trip to Scotland—more specifically, Aonach Castle.