To Ride A Púca
To Ride A Púca
by
Heather McCorkle
To Ride A Púca
Heather McCorkle
Copyright @2012 Heather McCorkle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Hardback ISBN: 978-0-9851804-1-6
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9851804-2-3
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9851804-3-0
Cover images from Thinkstock. Cover design by
CP Design
.
First Edition.
Compass Press
release date:5/7/2012
This novel is for all those who have had to flee their land in search of a place where they could be free.
Dubh: (dōōv) black
Púca: (pooka) shapeshifter of Irish legend
Diaduit: (deah hoit) hello, greeting
Beagcailín: (boig caullen) little girl
Tá: (tah) yes
Níl: (kneel) no
1
With a trembling hand, Neala adjusted the spyglass to get a better look at the ship that marred the perfect blue horizon of the ocean. It was still too far away to tell much about it, save that it was large and imposing. A twist of the spyglass revealed the fierce figurehead on the prow. Fear rose up and clamped an icy grip on her throat.
“Danes, oh no,” she murmured.
Her heart began to thud with the intensity of a blacksmith’s hammer. Nervous energy hummed through her body. A hot summer wind blew a strand of her long brown hair across the spyglass, obscuring her view and shaking her from her paralyzed state. Her horse shifted beneath her and stomped his foot. She didn’t need any more urging, it was time to go.
The click the spyglass made as she compacted it made both her and her horse jump. It was silly to think the Danes could hear. Knowing that didn’t make the fear go away, though. The spyglass slipped from her hands and she fumbled with it, barely catching it before it fell.
“No!” she gasped. An entirely different kind of anxiety clutched at her chest. To lose her spyglass here, now—knowing what was coming—would be more irony than she could handle. She clutched it close to her heart for a moment, then carefully tucked it into a pouch at her waist, ensuring the ties on it were well secured.
Murmuring soothing words to her horse, she patted the arch of his muscular, black neck and took up the reins.
“Easy Dubh,” she said, not liking how loud her voice was out here on the deserted hilltop.
With no saddle between her and Dubh she easily felt his muscles bunch in preparation to run. A rustling sound drew her attention. She shifted her weight back, cuing Dubh to wait. A tiny creature that looked like a dangerously thin human but was no bigger than Neala’s hand, fluttered on iridescent wings above Dubh’s neck. It cocked its head and gave her a concerned look.
“Go little fairy, it isn’t safe here,” Neala told it.
The fairy cocked its head at her, and the look of concern that pinched its tiny features made Neala’s chest tighten. It floated to her shoulder and lingered there. Its delicate wings brushed her ear.
“Please go, I’m beggin’ ye. Tell yer kind this town isn’t safe anymore,” Neala said.
After a glance in the direction of the ship which was only a speck on the horizon, the fairy nodded and disappeared. The air glimmered green and blue for a moment, then all trace of her was gone. She must have understood the danger to some degree, but how much, Neala couldn’t be sure.
Turning Dubh toward the port town of Dublin, Neala let him go. He thundered down the green hillside, his massive feet with their long, black feathers of hair throwing up huge chunks of earth. Once they reached the cobblestone streets she had to slow him to a trot to maneuver through the horse-drawn carts and pedestrians. Dubh was so big that people moved quickly out of his way and a path was cleared.
It felt like an eternity before she reached the shop where her da was, though it took only moments. Their cart, with Dubh’s black and white brothers hitched to it, was parked in the alleyway next to the building. It was empty. Good, that meant her da had already unloaded the wool. Before Dubh came to a stop at the hitching post Neala leapt from his back. She didn’t bother to tie him. Though he stomped and snorted, he wouldn’t go anywhere without her.
Forgetting all propriety, Neala threw the door open and ran into the shop, darting around tables covered in bolts of material and wool. At the back of the shop her da was leaning upon a tall table engaged in conversation with the old man behind it.
“Da, there’s a ship coming,” she said as she came to a stop next to him.
His brow furrowed as his blue eyes flicked in her direction. The look he cast her from beneath his plain brown locks was filled with irritation.
“Neala, we’re talkin’ business. Don’t be rude,” he said.
Power crackled beneath her skin and it was all she could do to contain it. His words did not help, neither did the fact that he turned away to continue his conversation. They didn’t have time for delays.
“Da, it’s a Dane ship,” she said.
“Ha! That’s daft. They’ve never come this far down the coast,” the shopkeeper said.
It wasn’t easy to ignore the way his words prickled along her last nerve. All she got from her da was another glare, this one carrying weight and threat.
The power that crawled beneath her skin intensified and she let it, focusing it down into her fingers. She used it to heighten her strength as she grabbed her da’s forearm. He tried to pull away but all she had to do was call on more of her power and it was easy to hang onto him. Anger filled his eyes as he truly looked at her for the first time that afternoon. She hated to disrespect him by using her power, but he gave her no choice. They were running out of time.
“Let go,” he hissed.
His power flared beneath her hand but she snuffed it easily with her own. White shone around the blue of his eyes before they narrowed into a fierce glare. Reminding him of the differences in their power was a sure way to raise his ire. He gave her no choice, though. The pressure she was applying would bruise his arm. Unlike her—could use his power to heal it so she paid it no mind.
“I’m not playin, da,” she said.
Either he saw something in her face that indicated how desperate she was, or he just didn’t want to challenge her unpredictable power. He sighed in defeat and gave the merchant one of those tolerant looks grownups gave each other when dealing with an insolent child.
“If ye’ll excuse me for a moment, I must remind me daughter of her manners,” he told the merchant.
The man gave her da a gap-toothed smile that looked a bit strained. “Don’t bruise yer hand,” he said with a laugh.
Neala shot the man a look of warning and a bit of her power slipped out. The power struck him like a strong wind, shoving him back a step. His eyes widened as he made the sign of the evil eye at her; two fingers thrust up in a V shape.
“Ye’re a druid,” he said, spitting at the last word as though it tasted bad. He drew back, fear contorting his features. “Get out of me shop an don’t come back.”
She flinched at the sting of his words but right now the man and his superstitions didn’t matter, getting her da to safety did. Her kind were used to such attitudes from the townsfolk, and much worse.
“Danes are coming, ye dolt. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll leave,” she hissed.
A big part of her didn’t care if the man knew what was good for him. People like him sold her kind out to save their own hides time and time again. They were the very reason druids lived in hiding. Casting him a dark glare over her shoulder, she ran for the door, dragging her da with her.
“If it’s true, they’re comin’ because of ye and ye’re filthy get,” the shopkeeper said.
Her da pulled back from her and she had to pour more power into her arm to overcome his struggles. “Ye’ve ruined our chance of ever selling here again. What is this nonsense?” he demanded.
“It won’t matter, da. These people will all be dead by nightfall,” she said.
A tiny amount of the pressure building in her chest eased a little as they stepped out into the dim light of the overcast day
“If ye had seen them from the hilltop then they’d be upon us now,” her da said.
Opening the pouch at her side, Neala showed him the end of her spyglass. “I used the druid’s spyglass that Lorcan made for me. I saw the ship, tis invaders.”
Stubborn disbelief etched deep lines into his brow. “They’ve never come this far down the coast.”
The way he echoed the shopkeeper’s words made her twitch and grind her teeth. He tried to turn away, but Neala refused to let him go. Despite being a fit, strong man, she held him easily. As a druid, being a sixteen year old girl wasn’t a disadvantage for her.
Her da went very still. “Are ye certain?”
She nodded. Pain and terror swirled within her da’s eyes and his bottom jaw started to quiver.
“Say nothin’, ride up front and use Dubh to clear a path for us, we need to leave as fast as we can without drawin’ attention,” he said.
“But Da, these people…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.
“No. We can’t afford to get trapped in the panic,” he whispered then gave her a push toward her horse.
Neala shook her head. It didn’t matter that these people would give them up to the Danes in a heartbeat if they knew what they were. They
didn’t
know. Letting them all die would make her no better than them. She glanced at people milling about in the busy street.
“If we don’t fight then what did Lorcan die for?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Our kind are healers, that’s why yer brother died.” His eyes softened and the crease between them smoothed out. “We’ll spread the word as soon as we reach the edge of town, I promise.”
There was no sense in arguing with him, he was right. Having her gentle da caught amidst a panic was the last thing she wanted. Neala focused her power down through her legs and used it to push off the ground, launching her onto Dubh’s tall back. Her da slapped her calf as he walked by.
“Not in public Neala,” he warned.
“It hardly matters. Most of these people will be dead by sunset,” she mumbled through a tightening throat.
Her da rushed to the cart and climbed into the driver’s seat. The black and white geldings perked up as he slapped the reins across their rumps. With a touch of her leg, Neala spun Dubh around and pranced out into the street. He was a bundle of excited energy beneath her. It was nothing like her own, just the nervous energy of a horse. That was exactly what she needed right now.