As if sensing her unease, Donal sat down on a rock in front of her and gazed deep into her eyes. He started to reach for her hands, but hesitated.
“Ye’ll do fantastic, I have no doubt. And don’t worry, I won’t leave yer side,” he said.
Though she couldn’t quite muster a smile, his words did ease the knot that had been twisting in her stomach all night. “What, no professin’ that ye won’t let anythin’ happen to me?” she joked, though it came out sounding forced.
Leaning closer, Donal raised an eyebrow at her. “I won’t have to. Ye’re a good warrior, I know ye can fend for yerself. But, if ye’d like me to be the knight in shining armor type…” he let his voice trail off and shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips.
She slapped him gently on the shoulder and had to resist the urge to let her hand linger there. “Course not. Ye probably know I don’t go for that kind of thing.”
“
Tá
, I know.” The smirk vanished, replaced by a vulnerable look. “Neala, I know that to ye it feels like we’ve just met, but I have known ye for three years now and I…” his voice faded and he broke eye contact.
She reached over and grabbed one of his hands. Touching him sent a fire blazing through both her and her power. This was a wonderful fire though that she craved more than air.
“
Níl
, it doesn’t. From the moment I first saw ye, well, yer human form, I felt as though I’d known ye me whole life. It’s a tad strange, I’ll admit, but I can’t deny what I feel for ye,” she said.
Hope lit up Donal’s eyes. “And what is that?”
“Somethin’ powerful. Somethin’ I want to explore if we live through the day,” she said.
The intense look in his dark green eyes gave her chills. His fingers wove through hers, holding her hand tight. “And we shall. I’ve never felt this way about anyone Neala, I need ye to know that. Ye’re special to me,” he said.
He leaned closer and her eyes closed a moment before their lips touched. She gasped as his power cascaded over her, mingling with her own. The moment her mouth opened his power poured into her along with his tongue. Suddenly she was in his arms. She clung to him, pulling him as close as she could, wishing the armor wasn’t between them. How could she have questioned for even a moment if this was who she wanted? There was no question.
Oppressive power pressed down upon them. Neala looked up to find Bren standing beside them, his arms crossed over his chest, shooting a fierce glare at Donal. They pulled apart slowly, their power resisting.
“Sorry to interrupt yer courtin’ of me lass, brother,” he said, twisting the last word into a hiss.
Letting go of Neala’s hand, Donal stood. He towered over Bren and had to crane his neck down to meet his gaze. Power snapped between the two of them like the fronts of two storms that were about to collide.
With a few deep breaths, Donal brought his power under control. “She isn’t yer property. And I’m sorry that things turned out this way, but truly, ye intruded upon me courtin’ of her, I was just takin’ things a lot slower than ye were.”
The rising tension washed away beneath a wave of Irial’s power. A moment later she stepped out of the darkness and put a hand on both Donal and Bren’s shoulders.
“Save it for the battle lads. Tis time to get into our positions,” she said.
A mixture of fear, excitement, and pride rushed through Neala. Adjusting her sword belt, she rose. Finally, she would get to fight for her country and her people as her brother had.
~
Between the blood pounding in her ears and the river rushing in the valley below, Neala couldn’t hear much else. Squeezed into a tiny crevice at the base of the hillside, there wasn’t much she could see either. The chainmail shirt Irial had given her was starting to make her sweat and itch, but she was thankful for it regardless. Donal was to her right, almost within reach, and Bren was to her left. She couldn’t stop thinking about her parents and Tyr. It was stupid she knew, to let herself get so distracted right before a battle, but she couldn’t help it. Because her parents had refused to leave they couldn’t lose this battle. No pressure.
The others of her Order were spread out along the cliff side with her, each hidden in their own crevice or behind a rock. In the trees on the other side of the river the other Order awaited. The other two fiann were scattered among them along with enough of the elder druids and even many other clan members to bring their numbers close to three hundred. Everyone had wanted to give their families a chance to hide or flee and the Rectors had been able to convince them fighting was the only way to do that.
Irial had told Neala that after mentioning the slaughter of Uí Faelain it had been easy to convince them to fight. It still meant they would be outnumbered but it was better than thirty against a thousand. The plan was to wait until the Danes were in their midst and then attack from both sides.
“They’re comin’,” Kyla called down from above them.
Neala gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly the leather wrapped around it bit into her palm. The pain helped ground her a little and took the edge off her panic. Donal’s fingers brushed the back of her hand. Soothing energy sank into her skin.
“Relax. Ye’re ready for this. Ye’ll do brilliantly,” he said.
It was hard to look at him but she made herself. His dark, handsome face—so filled with hope—made her want to take him and run from this place. But his deep green eyes made her think of her homeland and how much she loved it and wanted to fight for it. The fierce excitement written all over his face was infectious. No, they couldn’t run. They had to do what they were born to do and fight for their land.
Stretching from his tight hiding spot, Donal reached up to brush his fingers along her cheekbone. The touch sent a flare of heat from her cheek all the way to the core of her power. Regret mingled with desire. There was so much she wanted to say to him but she couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. It wasn’t that she was afraid of dying, she was afraid of leaving him without getting the chance to explore what might be between them. And she certainly hadn’t left things with Bren on a good note either.
“We’ll make it out of this. Ye just keep yer focus and show no mercy,” Donal said.
Hearing him say Lorcan’s favorite phrase made her smile. They had to do this for their families. She nodded and took a deep breath.
“Ye too,” she said.
Donal nodded and returned his gaze to the gap in the rock before him.
Neala said a silent prayer to the Tuatha Dé Dannan, the ancient gods of her ancestors. Just for good measure she said one to the Christian God too. It couldn’t hurt to have all of her options covered. Hopefully at least one of them would listen.
Using the method Irial had taught her, she imagined her power reaching down into the Earth like tree roots, connecting her to it and grounding her. It felt like an unending well of power beneath her feet, one that she was an integral part of. This was her home, the place where her ancestors were born, but it was more than that. She was tied to the energy of the land and it was tied to her, they fed one another. Now that she understood that she couldn’t fathom leaving.
Something fluttered near her head. Her eyes shot open as her heart tried to jump up through her throat. It was only a fairy alighting upon the rock next to her. She was crouched in a ready position, a spear clutched in one hand. Long blond hair hung down around her, partially obscuring intricate blue markings that wound their way up her arms. Not markings Neala realized, but tattoos. They were the blue tattoos that Neala’s ancestors used to mark their bodies with before battle.
Neala had heard stories about the tattoos but she had never seen them. Such markings were a death sentence. No one had worn them for hundreds of years. Seeing them now, on the friend she had grown up with, Neala realized the magnitude of all that her kind had lost and stood to lose.
The fairy’s jaw was set in a hard line and her eyes were filled with grim determination. She nodded to Neala before creeping higher upon the rock to join another of her kind. They were everywhere, their iridescent wings sparkling all over the cliff like bits of a scattered rainbow.
“Be safe little one,” Neala whispered.
A dull roar echoed through the valley, almost indistinguishable from the rushing river at first. The sound grew in intensity until Neala realized what it was. Hundreds of hooves pounded the ground, mingling with the clang of armor. Neala readjusted her grip on her shield and waited for Liam and Irial’s signal.
The riders came into view, their vast numbers filling up the small valley in only moments. Sunlight bounced off metal helms and shields. Even their massive horses wore plates of armor across their chests and over their arched necks. The sound of so many hoof beats, snorts, and whinnies was almost deafening. Neala knew it wasn’t really that loud though. It was only her battle senses kicking in, heightening to increase her chance of survival. Her brother had taught her that.
Or
was
it her battle senses? Perhaps it was fear. There were so many of them. . .
Each bearded face and braided head brought her a touch of relief. It didn’t look like Tyr was among them. Facing him in battle would be more than she could handle. The problem was she didn’t see his da Fraener either. Fraener seemed like the kind of man who would lead his forces. It was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure his closest men, the ones who had accompanied him to Neala’s house, weren’t there either. Now that she got a closer look at them there weren’t nearly as many as she thought there would be. In fact, the force looked to be about half of what Tyr had said it would be.
Their absence ignited a flame of concern that started to eat at Neala. Glancing over, she tried to catch Irial’s eyes but she wouldn’t look away from the advancing force. There was no way she could say it out loud so she shoved the suspicion aside. If they survived she’d worry about it then.
Out of the corner of her eye, Neala saw a blue bird shoot from the trees and fly over the river. Such birds didn’t live in these parts. It was the signal from the other fiann. Power pulsed over her—Irial and Liam’s power—bringing a sense of urgency with it. It was time.
Dozens of bowstrings twanged. Danes started falling from their horses. Excitement carried Neala down the hill after Donal and her Order. Fear fed strength to her muscles and fueled the determination in her heart. They reached flat ground and charged toward the Danes, a wave of druids, fairies, and brownies. In the looming shadow of the mountainous Danes, Neala was certain they didn’t look very menacing. But then that was part of the beauty of it. The invaders had no idea what was coming at them.
Arrows continued to fly; some coming from Kyla and Cian who ran at Neala’s heels. Though the two wouldn’t be engaging directly in the battle they had their part to play. And they were good shots. Their arrows met their mark and took down Dane after Dane. When they reached the point where the two were supposed to hang back, Kyla gave Neala a brave look and confident nod. Neala returned the nod and ran on with the rest of her fiann, praying Kyla and Cian would be all right.
The Danes looked bigger and more menacing the closer they got. But Neala didn’t slow down. Her friends ran at her side and she wasn’t about to leave them no matter how scared she became. Besides, this was what she was meant to do, what she’d been born to do. There was no way she was going to turn away from that.
One of the Danes on the front line beat his sword against his shield then raised it high. The warriors around him did the same, creating a thunder that echoed through the valley and shook Neala’s resolve. Bows were raised and the Danes started to return fire. Neala projected her power out into a sphere that surrounded her. It acted like the ultimate shield, deflecting arrows from all directions.
Horses without riders rushed past as they met the first line of Danes left standing. Steel rang upon steel and chaos erupted around Neala. She pushed out with her power, using it to spook the horses of the warriors who were mounted. Hooves flashed in the air as horses around her reared, bucked, and scrambled to get away. Over half a dozen Danes were thrown to the ground. She didn’t have to look to know her Order was using the same tactic, Irial had taught it to her after all.
The warriors she had unhorsed surrounded her and started to move in. They were so broad and tall they made her feel like a child, one who was playing a dangerous game. But at almost seventeen, she was hardly a child and this was one game she planned on winning. Her power waited just beneath the surface of her skin. Its pressure reminded her what she was capable of. That gave her almost as much confidence as Donal’s shouted words in the old language from somewhere off to her left.
“
Nil trócaire
!”
No mercy
.
The Danes attacked as if that was their cue. They came at Neala from all sides. She channeled energy into her legs and sword-arm to lend her strength and speed. The years of training with her brother—and more recently the days with Bren—served her well as her instincts kicked in. She was much faster, and with her druid power she was even stronger than these brutes. What she lacked though was their ruthlessness. As they rained blows down around her, fury started to build in her chest.
The real thing was nothing like practice. These men were trying to kill her. They weren’t going to slow down if she grew tired or stop if she didn’t get it right. Fear she had expected, but the anger that was gaining momentum took her by surprise. She used it just like she did her power, channeling it to make her moves faster and stronger. Still, she passed up opportunity after opportunity to seriously wound or kill.
A sharp, burning sliced into the back of her arm. Spinning in that direction, she saw a red-bearded Dane drawing his sword back for another blow. The silver blade was marred with bright red blood, her blood. Something inside her let loose. With a scream, she thrust her sword up into his chest. It slid right between his plates of armor. Before the man’s eyes could even finish widening in surprise, she drew her sword from him and turned to face his companions.