Dragon's Moon

chapter 21




Fortune and love favor the brave.

—OVID

“But why is the Faolchú Chridhe hidden to begin with?” Ciara asked.

“Because in the time so long ago, when our people wandered the earth, the high kelle had a son,” Boisin continued in his storyteller’s voice. “And this woman of great strength and honor saw a lust for power in her only offspring. He wanted to be king, though his cousin who was but a child was heir to the Faol throne.”

“The high kelle’s son thought he was superior to other Chrechte, that he deserved to be king. Fearghall believed men were more valuable than women and wolves more valuable than all. He devised a foul plan to ensure his ascendancy to the throne. Already a conriocht himself, he would take the Faolchú Chridhe and hide it so his young cousin could not be blessed with the spirit of the conriocht.”

“But the stone would call to the kelle. She would find it.”

“Not if she were dead,” Boisin said in a tone that sent shivers down Ciara’s spine.

The others at the table looked equally affected and disgusted by the ancient Chrechte’s plan.

“It is within the high kelle of the Faol’s power to draw forth the conriocht. She can determine how many need to exist to protect a generation.” Boisin shook his head. “Fearghall knew this, but had convinced himself that he could control the Faolchú Chridhe on his own. The keepers of the stone have always been women though. The men of their families can draw on certain powers of the stone, but only the high kelle could bring them all forth. Only she can bestow the spirit of the conriocht through the laying of hands on the sacred stone.”

So, Galen would have failed in his quest even if the stone had been found…unless he had convinced Ciara to help him. The thought that he might have easily gotten her innocent still-child self to do so sent dread welling in her.

Apparently not bothered by such disturbing thoughts, Mairi gave a beatific smile to Ciara. “I told you.”

“You interpreted the meaning of your dreams correctly.” Boisin smiled at his new protégé. “That was well done.”

Mairi blushed at the praise.

“But the kelle hid the stone herself, didn’t she?”

“Aye.”

“Why?” Eirik asked.

“Because she knew Fearghall didn’t only plan to withhold the conriocht from his cousin. The kelle hid the stone to stop her son from creating an army of conriocht and destroying the other Chrechte, didn’t she?” Ciara asked.

“She did.”

“But again, I ask, why?” Eirik’s face was creased in a frown. “If only the high kelle could draw forth the conriocht, then Fearghall was bound to fail.”

“Not if he could intimidate or seduce the next high kelle into doing his bidding.” Mairi shivered. “A woman has to be very strong of mind to withstand beating after beating without giving her abuser exactly what he wants.”

“But you never gave in to your father,” Lais said with fierce pride. “You never told him what you had seen in your dreams and visions about the Faolchú Chridhe.”

“He would have only beaten me in certainty I had more to give him.”

“You are wise for your young years, little Mairi,” Boisin said and then continued his tale. “Fearghall accused the Éan of stealing the stone when it was discovered missing and declared war on them. They were in a generation without a dragon and their people were nearly decimated before the few remaining took to the forests in the north in hiding, making their homes high in the trees away from those who hunted them.”

“But what of the Paindeal?” Eirik asked.

“They fought the Faol under Fearghall, but every death was a great loss to their race as not even a true mated couple could be guaranteed to produce shifting offspring.”

“You mean their children didn’t all shift?”

“Nay. Their griffin fought the conriocht bravely, but it was finally decided they would return to the land of their origin.”

So the old stories were based in truth, Ciara thought. “They went back across the land bridge that fell into the sea.”

“More like they left in boats, but the Paindeal live in the lands of the Norsemen and further south amidst the countries the Romans conquered or sought to do.”

“They must be higher in number now,” Eirik mused.

“Aye. They live much longer lives and with no wolves hunting them, their numbers have grown.”

Eirik’s brow creased in a puzzled frown. “You know all this from dreams?”

“And visions. ’Tis a thing I will teach Mairi as your Anya-Gra will train your mate once you have recovered the Faolchú Chridhe.”

Ciara wasn’t sure she wanted the knowledge Boisin spoke of, but her time from hiding from her gifts was past. She would serve their people as Eirik had predicted and just as he promised, she would not do it alone.

For the first time since realizing she had a mate, Ciara felt gratitude instead of fear stir in her heart.

“So, if it needs to be returned to the sacred caves on Sinclair lands, it stands to reason it is not there,” Lais observed.

Boisin inclined his head. “I have long believed that to be the case.”

“Knowing where it isn’t doesn’t improve our chances of finding it by much,” Ciara said worriedly.

The weight of her people’s future now pressed down heavily on her shoulders.

Eirik squeezed her hand again, reminding her he had not let go, that the stubborn man never would let her go. “We will find the Faolchú Chridhe; we will save your race. Trust in our Chrechte strength. ’Tis not limited to the increased physical prowess from our animal natures.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, trusting in her mate, if nothing else.

“Perhaps we should begin our search in caves on the lands of the clan with the strongest contingent remaining of the Fearghall.” Lais caressed Mairi’s hair as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. “It stands to reason that would be the clan in most direct descent from the high kelle and her wicked son.”

“’Tis not such a good measure as you might think,” Boisin said. “When the Fearghall society was formed, so too were the Cahir.”

“The Cahir?” Eirik asked.

“Aye, warriors dedicated to rooting out the Fearghall among the packs and either convincing them the error of their ways or destroying them.”

“You are Cahir?” Mairi asked, sounding like she knew the answer.

“I was once. I passed that mantle to my son and he has trained his sons to follow.”

“But there are no Fearghall in the Balmoral clan,” Ciara said with confusion.

“Why do you think that is, lass?” Boisin shook his head. “The Balmoral clan has Cahir, but some packs did not train the next generation of Cahir and take their vow of protection in belief the cancer no longer existed among them, but without the Cahir, ’twould always return.”

“Like in my father’s clan,” Mairi said, looking up at the eagle with a sad frown.

“Aye, the MacLeod has a like spirit to Fearghall,” Boisin said. “Though he does not share such a direct bloodline as our Faol princess.”

“I am not a princess,” Ciara could not help muttering.

“Kelle then.”

“I am not kelle.”

“I will teach you to be a warrior,” Eirik promised. “And Anya-Gra will teach you to care for the spiritual welfare of our people. The stone has chosen you as high kelle. You have too much courage and honor not to heed the calling.”

He was correct that she would not deny her call, but it wasn’t because she was courageous. It was because she had no choice.

“Our people?” she asked.

“The Chrechte.”

“Both Faol and Éan?” she pressed, though she knew the answer.

“Aye.”

Boisin nodded. “The races must join to win against the Black Death coming.”

Lais got more water for the horses, his thoughts and heart in conflict. He owed his allegiance to Eirik and could not abandon his prince to pursuit of the quest without him, but the thought of leaving Mairi here on Balmoral Island made his eagle claw to get out.

“Boisin has agreed to lead us to the caves the Balmoral use for their sacred Chrechte rites,” Eirik said from behind Lais. “Though he is fairly certain the Faolchú Chridhe is not there, he wants to show Ciara how to draw on the power of the stone and seek it out.”

Lais turned and met his friend and prince’s gaze. “Do you think he has truly foreseen the future and this Black Death he mentioned?”

“His gift is true. You have only to look at the goblet he served your wine in to see that.”

The images on the goblet had burned inside Lais with hope ever since his first glimpse of them. “Aye.”

“The Black Death is coming.”

“But not for many years.”

“That is what he said.”

“So, why find the stone now?”

Eirik frowned and looked off to the distance. “Because the stone needs Ciara to touch and heal the Faol and she needs the stone to prolong her life.”

“For centuries…” Lais could barely believe such a thing possible.

“That is what the old man said.”

“Do you think it is true?”

“I do. Since transforming into my dragon for the first time, I have felt invulnerable.”

“Because none could best you in battle.”

“I do not get sick. Cuts, wounds…they heal far too quickly for even a Chrechte.”

“You are going to outlive me.”

“Aye.” Eirik’s grief at the thought lived in his eyes. “My grandmother always warned me my calling would not be an easy one. I thought the hardest thing had already been faced.”

“Giving up your right to rule as king.”

“Aye.”

But worse was yet to come, not that it needed saying. Lais was just as certain that Eirik would learn to take the centuries in stride so long as his mate was by his side.

“I want a mate,” Lais blurted out.

Eirik raised a single brow. “I thought you’d already chosen one.”

“She deserves better.”

“Than my most trusted and closest friend?” Eirik asked with disbelief. “There is no better man.”

Lais felt an unmanly prick at his eyes and blinked the sensation away. “You know that is not true.”

“Do not be a fool, Lais.”

“I am not.”

“No.” Eirik slapped his shoulder. “You were deceived once, but you were not a fool then and you are not one now. Do not act the part.”

“I betrayed my alpha and the princess of our people.”

“They forgave you. The Clach Gealach Gra healed you.”

“What if it didn’t? What if I cannot give Mairi bairns?”

“What if you can?”

“You make it sound simple.”

“’Tis because it is. Would you dismiss the gift to heal that you have been given because you are unworthy of it?”

“Of course not.” He could not believe Eirik had even asked such a stupid thing. Their people needed Lais’s abilities. “I cannot deny the Clach Gealach Gra my service in healing others.”

“Then how do you think you have the right to deny this gift?” Eirik asked in a tone that implied he was not the only one capable of voicing stupidity.

“You didn’t say this to Gart when he chose his dreams of children over his mate.”

“I am not Gart’s alpha.”

“If it comes to that, you are not actually mine, either.” Though they both knew that prince triumphed over alpha as a distinction of leadership, no matter what Eirik had sacrificed to bring his people to the clans and relative safety.

“I am your friend,” Eirik said with certainty. “I would be remiss if I did not point out when you are being an idiot.”

“Boisin said Mairi has to stay here, with him, to train in her calling as a seer.”

“It is no easy thing to leave your mate behind, even if it is for a short time, but for an indefinite period, it is damn near impossible.”

“Though sometimes it is necessary.”

“I trust you as I do no other, but I am dragon. You can stay here, with your mate, and know naught will befall a Chrechte of my power.”

“Even a dragon needs a friend at his back. I will come with you.” There could be no question of it. Their people, Éan and Faol alike, relied on the success of this quest.

“Thank you.” Eirik clasped his arm, forearm to forearm, in the way of warriors. “You will return to her.”

Feeling more at peace than he had since his first whiff of his mate’s scent, Lais stepped back. “I will. What do you think the Balmoral would say to requesting his priest perform another wedding this day?”

“He’s a man of action. He will understand the need.”

Lais found Mairi with Ciara, listening to more of Boisin’s stories, both women enraptured by the old man’s gift.

Smiling, Lais laid his hand on Mairi’s shoulder so as not to startle her.

She looked up, her pretty blue eyes filled with question.

“Walk with me a minute?” he asked.

She nodded.

Cackling, Boisin stopped his story. “Is that how you young men do it? Walk with me a minute, he says.” Boisin slapped his knee. “My own dear mate led me a merry chase. I’d have not asked her to walk with me for fear she would lay a trap ahead of time.”

Lais felt his face heat, but Mairi was standing and she shook her head in amusement at the elder. “Thank you for the stories, Boisin.”

“Aye, lass, you’re welcome. You’ll learn to tell them as well as my own daughter has done and her son after her.”

Mairi nodded, looking pleased and Lais’s worry at leaving her behind lessened.

He led her out of the cottage and around to the back. “There is a small loch a bit of a walk from here.”

His eagle had smelled the water and Lais had gone looking when he’d realized the old man’s barrel was half empty. He’d refilled it for Boisin, the least he could do after watering four large horses from the man’s reserves.

“You are leaving with the others,” Mairi said, resignation in her tone.

“I am coming back.”

She looked up at him, but he kept his attention on the path ahead of them. He didn’t want to have this conversation until they were well away from the cottage and keen Chrechte ears.

They reached the water and he guided her to a seat in the shade cast by a large oak tree near the bank.

“You are coming back? Why?” she asked, her blue eyes troubled.

“To collect my wife.”

Those pretty blue eyes widened now, shock shimmering in their depths. “Your wife?”

He smiled. “Aye.” He dropped to his knee beside her and took her small hand in his. “Mairi, sweet one, you are my mate.”

“That is not what you claimed in the boat.” She gave him a very disgruntled frown. “And you ignored me, last night in the guards’ hut.”

“I did not know when Gart would return; I could not risk him finding us in a compromising circumstance.” As it was, the guard had not returned at all, but Artair had come to the hut when his watch was over.

“Now you want to be my mate? Because Boisin threatened you with his randy grandson?”

“Because Eirik told me I was being an idiot and I agreed. You are a gift from God and to deny you is to deny the preciousness of that gift. That I cannot do.”

“You said wife.”

“I did.”

“You want to marry me?” she asked on a squeak.

“With everything in me, I do.”

“But…”

“Say you will accept me, my eagle…my past.” Perhaps it was not fair to ask it, but ’twould not be fair to consign them both to a lonely future, either.

Mairi was wrong on one count. Lais was not worried about Boisin’s grandson, not one bit. Because Mairi was his mate and he was hers. There would be no other, for either of them.

“And will you accept me…even if I never gain a wolf?”

That one was easy. “’Tis why I desire the wedding happen now.”

“I don’t understand.” But she was looking at him with such hope.

He would not disappoint her. “If you gain a wolf as you hope to and the wedding came after, you would always wonder if I only claimed you because you shared your soul with the wolf.”

“You are right.” Her eyes filled with tears that spilled over and she swiped at them. “I would have wondered.”

“Aye.”

“But are you sure? We have known each other such a short time.”

“My eagle knew you the moment Eirik laid you on the grass behind the Sinclair keep. I knew I was lost the first moment your eyes opened and caught my own.”

“But do you love me?” she asked as if afraid of the answer. “Can you love me?”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Is love the desire to be with you and no other? To protect you from all harm? The willingness to both kill and die for you? The need to touch whenever we are near? The desire to keep your heart as well as your body for as long as we both draw breath? If this is love, then I love you.”

“I will marry you.” Then she burst into tears.

He didn’t mind. The joy coming off of her was a heady fragrance to Lais’s eagle’s senses.

He decided that vow needed sealing with a kiss. And so he did.

In the end, Boisin sent word to his laird via one of his many grandchildren, and the priest met them in the clearing outside the Balmoral pack’s sacred caves. He spoke his blessing over Lais and Mairi before being accompanied by two warriors back to the castle.

The Balmoral then led the way inside the caves to the Chrechte remaining. Lais held Mairi’s hand, his heart full and her scent happy after speaking their vows. The others joined in a circle around them. Artair and Gart, who had accompanied their laird from the castle, the Balmoral and his family, Boisin and one of his grandsons, though clearly too young to be the one the elder had used as threat.

The Balmoral performed the Chrechte rite of mating and marriage, prompting Lais and Mairi to speak vows even more binding than those the priest had done.

Afterward, Lais claimed his new mate and wife with yet another kiss that was most satisfying.

Ciara smiled mistily at the couple still kissing.

Boisin chuckled. “Now, that’s how we let our mates know of our interest back in my day. Will you walk with me for a minute? the boy asked.” The old man shook his head, but then turned serious and faced Eirik. “Draw the Faol king’s sword, if you please.”

Eirik gave Ciara a questioning glance and she nodded.

He pulled the sword from its sheath and laid it across his hands as he’d done in her bedchamber.

Boisin motioned to Ciara. “Take the handle, one hand above the other.”

Remembering what had happened the last time she’d touched it, Ciara hesitated.

Boisin patted her shoulder. “Do not fear the visions, lass. They will lead you to the stone.”

She nodded, bit her lip and did as the elder had instructed, taking the handle of the sword and moving it so the tip pointed toward the rocky floor of the sacred cave. The handle grew hot against her palms immediately.

“Lend her your strength, dragon,” Boisin instructed.

And Eirik’s arms came around Ciara, his heat surrounding her like a blanket of safety, his hands curving over hers, promising strength if hers gave out. Peace stole over her and she relaxed against him.

Trusting her mate to keep her safe, her eyes drifted shut.

“Can you feel the presence of the stone in these caves?” Boisin asked her as if from the end of a tunnel.

She thought about it, letting her wolf connect to the spirit of the stone through her grasp on the sword. “I feel the presence of Chrechte magic.” Profound magic. “But not the stone.”

“Good. For it does not reside here,” Boisin said in that strangely distant voice again. “Now allow your spirit to seek it. Do not fear whatever may come. You are safe in the arms of your dragon mate.”

She was safe, more safe than she had ever been. She could let the visions come and they would not harm her, nor anyone she loved.

She did as Boisin said, letting her senses seek outward as far as they would go in search of the Faolchú Chridhe. And between one breath and the next, she was in the cavern again, with the aged kelle.

The woman did not look through her this time, but met her gaze with eyes the same shade of deep green. “You are the one.”

No time or inclination for false modesty, Ciara dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“I am glad. There is both strength and goodness in your heart.”

“Thank you.”

“I am sorry for the years the dreams have beset you.”

“They are not your fault.”

“They are.” The old woman frowned, looking guilty but resolute. “I prevented you from finding the stone until you had a worthy protector.”

Galen had been her protector when the dreams started. “My brother was not worthy.”

“He was deceived by the Fearghall. He wanted to believe himself superior, as your father did.”





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