Forgotten Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 3), page 27
“Nay,” he whispered through gritting teeth. He would not stop. He charged ahead faster, coming at the warriors just as the rest of his group did. Instead of attacking however, the warriors stood their ground, holding their shields out like a wall to protect their leader.
Liam made eye contact with the man he had met in the forest twenty summers ago. “Elim,” he sneered as he glared at the man. “That is my daughter you have taken from me. I will have her back.”
Eoin dismounted quickly, pulling his sword out swiftly and preparing to attack. Tears of relief welled in Treasa’s eyes as she saw her husband and father unharmed before her.
“Ah, King Liam of Iverni,” Elim chuckled mockingly, clearly remembering their first meeting all those years ago. “How surprising life is, is it not? You helped my long-departed wife birth my son, and in turn, I have made your daughter my new queen.”
“What?” Eoin shouted, raising his sword. “What nonsense is this?”
Treasa struggled to move, but the ropes were bound too tightly around her entire body. “What is the meaning of this, Elim? What game do you play?” Liam sounded annoyed, not at all worried that Elim could slit Treasa’s throat at any second.
“Tis nay game. She is my wife, the High Queen of Ériu. You would not deprive your daughter such power, now would you, Liam? Switch sides, defend my right to the throne, giving your daughter more power and prestige than she could have ever achieved with this lad,” he spat in Eoin’s direction, “and we shall take the day. Your family will be elevated to the highest in the land and your grandchildren will be heirs to the throne.”
Liam looked at Elim as if he was speaking another language. “You are mad!” he shouted.
Tuathal dismounted and came closer, standing beside Elim, dwarfing the pretend king within his massive shadow. The rest of the men did the same, preparing for this final battle. Only one king would be left standing. Tuathal put his free hand on his hip while he leaned upon the hilt of his sword. A bellowing laugh escaped his throat as he threw back his head. “This is your grand plan, man? To turn my most loyal followers against me by offering their daughter up as your queen?”
Elim flinched at the insult. “Tis done, we are wedded and bedded. She is my wife. Liam has nay choice. If I die, she dies. My men will make sure of it.
“You bastard!” Eoin said, raising his sword while he ran at Elim. All the men swiftly moved into battle position as Tuathal’s warriors faced off with Elim’s. It was an even match, six men on either side, all well-trained men of war.
Eoin brought his sword down hard on Elim’s and felt the vibration run through his body as their weapons shook with the impact. Elim pushed back, throwing Eoin a few feet. His size was deceiving. He may have been small of frame, but he was full of power and swift as a bird. He came at Eoin with his sword arching above, but Eoin moved to the side and drove his sword forward, aiming for Elim’s gut. Elim’s sword deflected the blow, throwing one of its own.
Tuathal grunted in the background as his shoulder was slashed by one of the large warriors guarding Treasa. In retaliation, he swung the sword swiftly, this time meaning to connect, not just stave off the man, and the Sword of Light, true to its legend, did not miss its mark. The man fell into a crumpled heap on the grass with a final groan.
Eoin and Elim went head to head, both men proving to be of equal skill with the sword. The grass was slippery and every step threatened their stability. Just as Eoin thrust forward with what would have been the killing blow, his left foot slipped beneath him and he fell straight to his back, head crashing to the ground as his sword clattered to the side. New men had joined the fight, leaving none of his own men to break away to help.
Elim hovered above him with a victorious smile, slowly lifting his sword over his head. Eoin watched in slow motion as his mind processed that he was going to die. He would never hold Treasa again or watch her belly grow with the life of their child. He had spent so many years yearning for her, waiting for her, planning a life together. And now, he would never get that chance.
“Treasa,” he breathed reverently into the warm spring air. If this was to be his last breath, it would be used to speak her sweet name upon his lips one more time. Elim’s sword began its decent, its downward blow sure to end Eoin’s life. Eoin closed his eyes in preparation for death.
A strange warmth splattered across his face and ran down his neck. Had he been cut? Was he dead? He felt no pain, but could clearly feel the blood running down his body. He opened his eyes in confusion at the scene. Elim no longer held his sword above his head. Instead, someone else’s sword pierced through Elim’s stomach from behind, blood spurting from the wound and onto Eoin. Elim’s face shifted from triumph to horror as he looked down at the blade protruding from his gut.
Eoin rolled out of the way just before Elim would have fallen on him. A young man with dark hair and even darker eyes pulled his sword from Elim’s back and rolled the man over, getting down low so Elim could see the man who had finished him.
“Victory is not yours, father,” the man growled as he spat on the ground beside Elim’s bleeding body. Elim’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the man who slayed him, and then a small smile crossed his lips as he nodded his head, somehow approving of his own death. His body twitched before he went limp and his mouth slackened. The pretender High King was dead.
“Jeoffrey!” Treasa shouted. The dark-haired man turned toward her and began to walk up the hill to release her. A sudden jolt of rage spiked in Eoin’s blood as he realized who the man was. This was the man who had stolen Treasa from him.
“Jeoffrey, is it?” Eoin growled quietly as he got back up on his feet. He saw the look in Treasa’s eyes as Jeoffrey approached her. A wide smile of relief crossed her face and she seemed to light up at the man’s proximity. Did she love Jeoffrey? Had Eoin been a fool to believe he could truly hold the love of a woman like Treasa, when she had yet to see the world beyond their small tuatha?
Jealousy, dread, and gut-gripping anger surged in Eoin as he ran toward the man he blamed for the several days he had lived in torment. He knocked the man down from behind, causing Jeoffrey to land on his chest in the grass, the air whooshing from his lungs with a grunt. “Time to die, Jeoffrey,” Eoin hissed as he raised his sword over him.
“Nay! Eoin!” Treasa screamed. “He is my friend! He protected me! Do not kill him!” She thrashed beneath her bindings, screaming and crying as she watched Eoin hesitate with his blade gripped high over his head. He looked up at Treasa and saw the pain in her eyes. He could not possibly imagine why she wanted him to spare this man, but he could not bring himself to follow through, knowing Treasa would hate him for it.
Mayhap he had misjudged her love for him. It appeared she loved another, and though he wanted to gut the bastard, he would not do it at Treasa’s expense. He loved her too dearly to ever hurt her.
Begrudgingly, Eoin lowered his sword and strode over to Treasa, swiftly cutting through her bindings. As she came loose, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and began to sob as he crushed her to him, smothering her face with kisses. “Are you hurt?” he questioned as he pulled away and scanned her body. She had bruises on her wrists and cuts from the rope on her arms.
“Nay,” she whispered as she planted kisses all over his face. “Not truly. Thanks to Jeoffrey.” She pulled away again and looked at Jeoffrey, who was standing once again, watching her reunion with Eoin in silence. He looked heartbroken, but forced a small smile, trying to hide his pain. “He protected me while I was here. He kept me safe. I owe him my life, Eoin.”
“Do you?” Eoin asked angrily. “Did he touch you?” He sent an icy look toward Jeoffrey.
Treasa hesitated before she answered. “Nay, he did not touch me. Nobody did.” Eoin did not like her hesitation. Something had happened and though she may not wish to discuss it, sooner or later he would get the truth from her. Treasa turned to Jeoffrey and bid him to come forward. “Jeoffrey, this is my Eoin,” she said proudly as she put an arm around Eoin.
My Eoin. She still loved him, thank all the gods.
Eoin kissed the top of her head affectionately and breathed her into his lungs. She loved him. Not this man. His gaze shifted over to Jeoffrey and he arrowed his eyes. “We have met,” Eoin growled.
“Briefly, aye,” Jeoffrey said with a smirk. “I will let your wife tell you the tale. My mate, Alastar, awaits me. We are going into exile for a time.” He looked at Treasa and gave her a weak smile. “There is nothing left for me in Ériu.”
She frowned at him, understanding his meaning. Eoin understood his meaning, as well, and fought back the urge to pop the lout square in the jaw. She leaned in and kissed Jeoffrey’s cheek, then gave him a hug. “Thank you, Jeoffrey. I wish you only happiness.”
Eoin grumbled, but had the grace to stand back and let Treasa make her farewell, even though he wanted to slay the man when he saw her kiss his cheek. He trusted Treasa enough to know she had been faithful, but when they left this place, he expected a full explanation.
Jeoffrey stepped away from Treasa and turned to Eoin, giving him a final salute. “Tis a fine woman you have. Treat her well…or I will,” he said with a wink. With that, he descended the other side of the hill, where it was peaceful, as if no battle raged on its other side.
Treasa watched him go and sighed. Eoin sent her a warning look and she only giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down for a hungry kiss. He accepted that as her peace offering and grabbed her by the waist, gripping her tightly to him and thanking the gods to have her back again.
Seeing Liam approach, Eoin released her and stepped back, knowing her father was just as anxious to greet her. Liam stepped forward and gave her a tight squeeze, spinning her in his arms. “My wee lass is alright, thank all the gods!” The rest of her family stepped forward and gave her hugs as well. Suddenly, they heard a shout so loud, it rang out across the land, stopping the battle raging below in its tracks. Looking to the source of the shout, they saw their rightful king standing atop the Hill of Tara, holding the head of Elim Mac Conrach.
“The pretender is dead,” Tuathal shouted. “Bow now to your rightful king, or suffer a similar fate!”
Not a single man in the entire valley below, not even Elim’s most loyal men, hesitated to bow down before the large, imposing man dangling the head of their expired leader. “If any of you doubt my claim to the throne, watch as I stand upon the Stone of Fal, and see if the gods accept me and my claim,” his voice echoed against the hills, reverberating easily to the men below. He threw Elim’s head behind him as he walked, and without hesitation or fear, Tuathal placed his feet on the rectangular stones that streamed out like sun rays around the base of the tall monolith that Treasa had been tied to.
His shoulder bled and must have ached from the blow he took, but he stood tall and straight, touching a hand to the imposing, ancient stone. A loud humming sound consumed the valley, setting every man in a daze as they covered their ears against the overpowering bellow of the stone. It made the world shake beneath them with its power. He slowly stepped away once more to face the crowd and the humming stopped.
As men regained their balance and uncovered their ears, they all knelt, once again, onto their knees and bowed their heads. There was no room to doubt that Tuathal Techtmar had won the day and was the rightful High King of Ériu. The irony that Elim’s own son had won the battle for him, was not lost on any man and was only further evidence that Elim could never have been truly respected by his people.
But winning the battle and securing his claim was only a small part of Tuathal’s plans for the day, it would seem. The new High King walked up to a Liam, who was still kneeling with his head bowed low. “Let us get out of here,” he said with a jerk of his head, “for there is a wee bonny lass I am anxious to get back to.” He laughed and put out an arm to help Liam up, then groaned, looking down at his shoulder wound. “Think she will stitch me up while I try to woo her?” He raised his confident dark brows.
Liam grunted and wiped the loose grass off his knee. “I suppose I will have a daughter as High Queen, after all?”
“Only if she will have me,” Tuathal chuckled as he slapped Liam on the back and led his people back to camp.
Epilogue
Seven moons later
“Follow me! He is back! He has a surprise for us all!” Aislin ran swiftly through the woods, her long red hair blowing wildly in the crisp December breeze as she led her family to Aldwin’s cave.
“Back? I thought he was thrilled to return to the Otherworld,” Little Duncan huffed as he tried to keep up with Aislin.
“HA!” she shouted over her shoulder, “I am still faster than you, Dun!”
He grumbled under his breath and decided to walk alongside his three waddling sisters. “I think I will stay back here with you,” he grumbled. “Aislin will never let me win.”
Treasa laughed and rubbed her swollen belly. “Aye,” she snorted, “How fortunate you are to have three breeding sisters to slowly walk with.” She ruffled his hair playfully as he grumbled again.
“Are you really all going to have babes at the same time?” he whined. “There will be crying, smelly babes crawling all over the place!” He complained as he held his head in mock pain. Treasa had moved to Coraindt with Eoin while Alyson and Freyne continued to live with her parents in Iverni. But once Darini, Coraindt, and Iverni were all moved into the one large hillfort that Tuathal was building, family gatherings were going to be large…and loud. Duncan grumbled again and kicked up the fresh powdery snow.
“Duncan,” Leannan laughed as she linked arms with Alyson, “The babes will not come all at the exact same time, you goose.” She stopped and grabbed her belly as a quick pain caught her breath.
Tuathal strode forward quickly, pushing through her father and uncles to put a hand on her abdomen, large with his child. “Is everything alright, mo bhanrion?” As always, he showed extreme concern at her discomfort. He believed that to have a wife he loved more than life, and to have gotten her with child right away, had been the ultimate blessing to his reign. But he was ever at her side, worrying over the heir that grew within her womb.
“Aye, tis only the babe kicking, my love. Feel,” she put his hand on her belly just as their child gave a strong thrust into its papa’s palm.
“Already a warrior!” he said with pride, moving aside as her family pushed forward to get a hand on her squirming belly, but he gladly backed up and laughed as they all surrounded his child with love.
“Come on, everyone!” they could hear Aislin shouting in the distance. The snow had ceased temporarily, but would begin anew soon. Fresh snow crunched beneath their feet as they all continued to walk again.
“Tis amazing how history seems to repeat itself, is it not?” Gwynneth said with a proud grin as she watched her three breeding daughters linking arms and walking side by side.
“Aye, it was only twenty summers ago when we three were ready to give birth at the same time,” Ceara agreed.
“Time has passed much too quickly. How do we have grown children, and you with three grandchildren on the way?” Una sighed.
Once the chaos of the battle had ended and they arrived home, a triple wedding ceremony had been held, and very soon after, bellies began to swell. “Hopefully three,” Gwynneth stressed. “Multiples run in the family, do they not? And Alyson, you are just as far along as Treasa, and yet your belly seems much larger. Perhaps you will be the one to birth twins?”
“Mama! Do not wish that upon me!” Alyson cried and rubbed her back, remembering two children in her vision the first night she and Freyne had made love. “I have two more moons to go and my back already aches. Does not yours?” she looked at her sisters. They chewed their lower lips to keep from laughing at their sister as they shook their heads.
“Nay! I really do not think…Freyne, do you think tis true?” she looked at him nervously, still outwardly denying what her heart knew to be true.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her large belly. “I would not doubt it, my love. Faeries are known for their fertility,” he winked and then dodged as she tried to slap his arm.
“Watch out Freyne, a breeding woman is a dangerous woman,” Brocc grumbled. His sons sniggered as they watched their cousins waddle in front of them.
“Nay…Treasa has been extremely pleasant,” Eoin said sarcastically. “Not at all bossy, or moody, or sulky, or—”
“That is enough, Eoin,” she laughed as she looked back at her husband. “If you do not want me, I am certain I can find Jeoffrey again…”
“Nay, not at all moody,” he continued with a laugh. Treasa had told him all about how Jeoffrey had meant to force her in the beginning, but only out of fear of his father’s wrath. In the end, he had turned out to be her protector and friend. Jeoffrey had fallen in love with Treasa and taken care of her, promising to reunite her with Eoin. He kept his promise, even killing his own father to save Eoin’s life. Nobody could find it in them to be angry at Jeoffrey once Treasa explained everything. Elim had been a tyrant to all and Ériu was well rid of him.
“When Rath Mor is done being built, we will all live within one large tuath together!” Leannan clapped excitedly. “Nay more traveling back and forth for visits. Can you believe it? It was Tuathal’s idea to create one central tribe, housing his strongest leaders. He is wonderfully clever.” Leannan looked up with pride at her husband. He had intimidated her to no end when they first met. He was so large, handsome, and authoritative. The way he looked at her, as if he would devour her, had frightened her at first. But, when he arrived back to camp as the victor, he sought her out immediately, asking her to stitch up his wound.
Nothing seemed odd about the request, for that was the very reason she had come along on the journey, to put her fine ability as a healer to use. But it soon became obvious that Tuathal wanted more from her than just her skill at stitching wounds.
