“You will waken soon, Seanchaí. My daughter and I pray for it every night,” he confessed one day after feeding me. His voice carried an unexpected sorrow. “I hope I live to see sunlight glisten in your eyes and the breeze stirring your long, golden hair. But this will be my last visit. ‘Tis time for my younger cousin to care for you. Be well. Be safe, my queen.”
A great, heavy cloak of sadness fell upon me when he left, his boots scuffing against rock, the fragrance of roses stirring in his wake. Benen lay snuggled in my left arm and he let out a soft moan, which Ambros echoed on my right.
All three of us mourned the absence of our friend, Cara Maith.
If ever I longed to awaken, it was that moment.
I wanted to see his face. I wanted to thank him.
I wanted to live like a Duine woman and fall in love.
But I didn’t have the power to break this enchantment.
It seemed a long time before our next Guardian visited us and when he did, his words came in great gasps and he carried a sense of danger.
“Faelan has sent warriors to kill you, Seanchaí!” the young man whispered in my ear. I could hear the clang of his sword and caught the earthy smell of battle on his clothing—dirt, oil, metal.
And blood.
There was too much blood. The small cave filled with its coppery scent and, again, for the second time in centuries, my son Benen shifted in my arms, letting out a soft moan.
Then our young Guardian took a shallow breath—perhaps glancing over his shoulder and staring out the cave entrance—before he spoke again.
“Faelan learned how your sister helped you and he knows our house has been tending to you,” the young man continued, a death-rattle in his lungs. “You must wake up, now! There are only a few Guardians left and I barely made it here, for I took two enemy arrows while climbing the mountain. Faelan’s soldiers are prowling every trail and pass, searching for this cave. Caer’s magic won’t hide you much longer. I will feed you one last time, my queen. Then you must rise, take your children, and flee!”
He fed me then, his blood flowing into my mouth in a rushing, steady stream. I worried that he may have plunged his knife into his neck, for the blood didn’t stop. He never spoke to me again.
‘Twas his own lifeblood flowing out to bring me back.
It was time to wake.
Eight
200 A.D.
My heart beat once. Then twice. I took a long, shallow breath. The smell of the cave filled my nostrils—mossy, earthy, damp, and along with it came the coppery stench of blood. My eyes fluttered open, though at first, all I saw were dark shadows.
Then I saw him.
The young Guardian, barely more than a boy, sprawled dead across the narrow cave floor.
I sat up, awkward and slow, scanning the small enclosure to see if anyone else was here.
My twin boys still slept at my side, their lips bright red from our recent feeding. I pressed my ear against their chests, glad to hear their hearts beating.
Fresh clothing lay in the corner, a long dress with a warm fur collar, matching blue suits for my boys. Beside the clothing rested earthen jars filled with clear water, along with baskets of bread and fruit and meat. And thick rose vines twined and curled everywhere. My Guardians must have brought this offering so frequently that the flowers took root. The blossoming vines spread throughout the cave and almost completely covered the entrance, pale pink flowers blooming even in the dark cave, long spiky thorns everywhere.
I quickly woke my leanaí.
Ambros whimpered, “I don’t want to get up.”
So glad to hear his voice, I laughed and hugged him.
“Let me sleep, Ma,” Benen said.
“Wake, children, we must flee quickly!” I told them, using my banshee voice. I hated to use that voice upon them, but it forced their eyes open. They stood up, both of them unstable on their feet.
“Eat,” I commanded, pointing to the baskets of food. “Drink.”
They ate like tiny, hungry wolves.
I grinned. This was how we would escape.
Once we had all eaten and drunk our fill, I made them sit and explained the danger.
“Faelan is coming for us, my little ones. We must run and we must hide. While we run through these hills, I will disguise us all as white wolves. But you must stay with me and do not get lost! If you do, you will remain wolves forever, for no one can break my spell but me. After we get to the Duine, I will change our appearance again, for the mortals hate wolves and would try to kill us.”
“I will do as you say, Ma,” Benen said.
“I will run fast and stay with you,” Ambros promised.
I wrapped them both in a long hug and then told them we needed to remove our clothing and leave it in the cave. After that, I whispered the Incantation of Change, a spell so strong few faeries dared to use it. It was our only chance. Just like the Leanan Sidhe blood magic, I reverted to the Old Ways.
As soon as I finished the spell, we became a wolf pack—a she-wolf and her precious cubs—and we ran, four paws each, scrambling over rocks and past rivers and through forests. We could smell Faelan’s hunters long before we saw them.
They smelled like sour milk and unwashed flesh. Bitter, sharp, dangerous.
We knew immediately which way to go to avoid them.
We ran, day into night and into day again. We ran until we were so weary, we could run no further.
That was when he almost caught us.
Nine
The mountains had changed during the centuries while we slept. Entire forests had been cut down, while others grew up in different places. The Liffey and Slaney Rivers had changed their courses and even the sunlight seemed a different color. If the damp, peat soil hadn’t smelled the same or if the wind hadn’t blown off the snow to reveal the brilliant ling heather beneath, I would have thought I’d stepped into another world.
Normally, I knew my country so well, every inch of it—but now, I felt as confused and lost as a Duine who’d never been here before.
I stopped running long enough for my boys to drink from a waterfall that cascaded down through the rocks. A thick grove of Scots pine surrounded us, while the ground was soft and springy from a summer of purple moor grass. The wind carried the scent of nearby animals—foxes, badgers, rabbits—and my wolf skin longed to hunt.
I fought that primal urge and focused on another instead. We needed a way of escape.
While my boys rested, I searched for a path that would lead us down to the sea. Then, I remembered that the longboats were no longer waiting for us. Panic surged through my veins, causing my fur to shiver. I needed to find another way out of the hills and this country.
It felt as if the thick foliage closed around us, branches and bushes turning into a trap. I couldn’t even find the path that had led us toward the waterfall. I’d never felt so lost or alone before.
There was no one to call upon for help.
That was when I heard the warriors that Faelan had sent to kill us. Their footsteps rustled to my right and my left, too loud and clumsy to be a deer or a mountain goat. I motioned to my children, warning them to be silent.
“They went this way!” a man cried, so close he could have reached out and grabbed my twins.
“Ma, they’re coming!” Benen whispered.