To Ride A Púca (3 page)

As Neala grabbed his bridle off a hook on the wall she saw something moving in the bucket where they stored the horses’ grain. It was no more than eight inches tall and resembled a tiny human. Unlike fairies, this creature had no wings but it did have a long tail that ended in a puff of brown fur. In its hands was half an acorn shell that it was using it to scoop up the grain.

“Ye little thief! Get out of there!” Neala said.

It stuck its tongue out at her before leaping out of the bucket to scurry off with its treasure. The small menaces were always stealing something. She put the lid on the grain, making sure it was good and snug. If her da found out she’d forgotten to put it on he would have her mucking out stalls for a month solid. Given the chance, brownies would steal every bit of the grain.

Hooves prancing out a rhythm on the wooden floor, Dubh nickered as she entered his stall. He lowered his head the moment she lifted his bridle. When she was finished putting it on he gently pushed his head against her chest. The sadness in his green eyes made her think maybe he knew she was upset.

“Yer a big help as always me friend. A good run through the woods is exactly what we need.”

Using her energy, she pushed off from the ground and launched herself onto Dubh’s back. No amount of practice would enable her to mount that way without using her power, Dubh was simply too tall. The display of power was why her da had gotten so mad at her when she’d done it in town yesterday. Such a thing could expose them and that could be disastrous. The invaders killed her kind just because of what they were.

They shouldn’t have to hide what they are, Neala hated that.

Sliding into the most secure position on Dubh’s back, she took up the reins and urged him into a trot. Normally she couldn’t care less that she didn’t have a saddle but today even that bothered her. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it. Her family had plenty of coin. Her parents wouldn’t buy a saddle because it was a luxury item most people couldn’t afford. They didn’t want to draw attention to themselves.

Once they were clear of the barn Neala turned Dubh toward the misty forest and urged him into a canter. The moment they stepped into the trees the heady scent of pine and fertile ground enveloped them. The deeper they ran into the woods, the thicker the patchy mist became. It soon covered the ground, reaching up to Dubh’s ankles. While they could see the trees and dodge easily in and out of them, Neala couldn’t see the ground. Soon the mist was up to Dubh’s hocks but by then she was leaning into the damp wind, too immersed in the ride to care. She felt free with the wind whipping through her hair, almost as if she could fly.

The trees flashed by and the fog curled up around them, teasing her booted feet. Sunlight streamed through the massive pines where it could find an opening between the feathery boughs. The light bounced off the fog, making it harder to see. Just as she started to feel bad for her recklessness and picked up the reins to slow Dubh down, he slipped.

Time slowed in that terrible way it did when something bad happened. Dubh’s right front leg slid out from under him and he started to go down. Shifting her weight back, Neala pulled on the reins, trying to help him lift his head and regain his balance. For a moment it seemed like it was going to work. Then he toppled over onto his side. A sharp, intense pain shot through her right ankle as the huge stallion landed on her. She cried out and Dubh leapt off her, but the damage was done.

The pain made it hard to think. She reached for her ankle and cried out again as the touch sent slivers of agony lancing into her. It was broken, she was sure of it. With a boot on it was hard to tell how bad. Tears made tracks down her cheeks. She lay back onto a bed of cold, wet ferns and tried to slow her breathing. The last thing she needed was to pass out.

Dubh’s big black head poked through the mist and sniffed her face. His eyes were filled with a worried, almost guilty look. Concern for him shot through her.

“Are ye all right?” she asked him.

He proved he was by prancing about before putting his nose down to sniff her foot. He snorted, blowing horse snot all over her boot.

“Lovely, just what I need,” she gasped around the pain.

The fog swirled as Dubh lifted his head and looked around. Neala did the same, not liking the tension that rippled across him. It was hard to tell because of the white clouds of fog that hugged everything, but she knew she’d never been to this part of the forest. The ferns, vines, and trees were similar, but unlike the trees near her home the trunks of these were choked with moss. A river rushed along in the distance. There wasn’t a river within miles of her home. She was on another clan’s property. And she was forbidden to be here.

Fear gave her enough strength to brace against the tree near her in an attempt to get up. A searing pain shot through her ankle as she tried to move it. She screamed and tried to muffle the sound by clamping a hand over her mouth. Tears slid down her cheeks as she ground her teeth against sobs. She couldn’t take the chance of anyone hearing her. Other clans tolerated those that lived next to them but only if they didn’t come onto their land. People were killed and battles were started over such things.

Dubh went very still. Neala stiffened, knowing it wasn’t a good sign. Something was making him nervous. True, he was high-spirited but there wasn’t much that made him nervous, and right now the tense line of his back meant he had heard or seen something he didn’t like. His nostrils flared and his big green eyes flicked about. She could feel his energy building like a tight spring under pressure.

“What’s wrong, boy?” she whispered.

With a squeal, Dubh spun on his hindquarters to face the other direction. He pawed with his front hooves then reared back onto his hind legs a few times. Those massive hind hooves were dangerously close to Neala’s legs. His long, black tail trailed along her feet. She tried to scoot back but the movement hurt so bad it made her dizzy. A whimper escaped her clenched teeth.

Beneath Dubh’s belly she could see a pair of legs clothed in dark breeches approaching. They moved with caution but clear intent. Whoever it was, was coming right for her. The fog swallowed the person’s feet and Dubh blocked any view of them from the waist up. The legs were fit and male, that was all she could tell. Then something completely unexpected happened—she realized she recognized the person’s energy. It wasn’t that she knew him; it was that he was her kind, a druid.

It wasn’t possible. There were no other druids save for her family anywhere near here, or so she had been told. And yet, he was definitely her kind. The way his energy pulsed was a sure giveaway. She could feel it coming off him in waves, a force so powerful it felt like she could reach out and touch it. Normal people’s energy did not feel that way.

“Easy boy. I mean no harm. I’ve only come to help,” a deep, confident, male voice said. It slid over her like fine silk, making her wonder if he was attractive, or dangerous. But then, weren’t they one in the same as her ma always said?

Dubh pawed a few more times in warning. Concern for him bloomed within Neala. He could get hurt.

“We didn’t mean to ride onto yer land. I was out for a run and got lost in the fog,” she said.

The pair of legs stopped a few yards from Dubh. “Are ye hurt? I heard a scream,” the man said.

It occurred to her that she didn’t even have a dagger on her.

“Ye’re not part of a fiann are ye?” she asked.

The warrior bands that roamed the countryside stealing and killing would almost be worse than a rival clan member. If he did belong to one, then he might abduct her and take her back to them. That was a fate she didn’t even want to think about.

“Tis all right. I’m not going to hurt ye. Ye’re one of me kind, I wouldn’t dare,” he said.

So he could sense what she was too. That was encouraging, sort of.

“And what if I wasn’t?” she asked.

The young man chuckled, a warm sound that eased her mind a bit. “Well I wouldn’t ravish ye if that’s what ye’re worried about. I’m a Celt, not a barbarian,” he said.

Neala couldn’t help but smile. “Some would say they are one in the same,” she said.

“Danes maybe,” he said.

He sounded kind enough, even somewhat funny. And more importantly, his energy had a positive feel to it like the warmth of a fire on a cold day.

“It’s all right Dubh. Step aside. Side,” she said, raising her voice to make the last word a command.

The stallion’s ears flicked back in her direction and he took one step to the side, both his right front and back foot stepping at the same time. She repeated the command until he took three more side-steps and was no longer between her and the man. The sight of him didn’t exactly instill trust in her.

Now that she could see all of him she realized his breeches may not be brown after all. They were so caked in mud they only looked that color. A sopping wet beige tunic with mud splashed all over it clung to his defined chest and arms. It was hard to tell beneath all the dirt but she was pretty sure his chin-length hair was golden brown. Pale green eyes that sparkled like crystal gave the hint that there might be a handsome man under all the grime. Something stuck up over his shoulder, a bow from the looks of it. Two big birds hung on a rope strung over his other shoulder, white-fronted geese. Even they were muddy.

He was much younger than he had sounded. He looked to be around her age.

A small laugh slipped from Neala despite the pain she was in. “Yer mornin’ looks to have been nearly as bad as mine,” she said.

One corner of the young man’s mouth turned up into a crooked smile. “Nearly. I shot the geese over a bog,” he said with a laugh.

Neala would have laughed along with him but the excitement of the moment was fading fast and her pain was increasing. It took everything she had to be able to smile.

“I can help, well, me ma can,” he said. The concern etched on his face must have meant her pain was obvious. It was touching. A stranger had never shown Neala anything close to concern. Most of them were too afraid of her to come near her.

She knew she shouldn’t trust a complete stranger but she also knew she couldn’t make it all the way home. Riding would increase the pain and she was afraid that if it grew much worse she’d pass out. Falling off Dubh twice did not seem like a good idea. She looked long and hard at the young man, not only trying to judge his appearance, but his energy as well. Feeling it was easy, but to see it she had to drop the wall that she kept around her power. After a moment she could see it surrounding him as surely as the fog teasing his ankles. It was a mixture of green and yellow that combined in a beautiful way.

“All right,” she said. “I’d appreciate the help.”

Dubh snorted and pawed but let the young man approach. The man took one look at the odd angle of her ankle and shook his head.

Worry etched deep groves into his muddy brow. “Tis broken.”

“I kind of thought it was,” she said with a shuddering sigh.

“Will ye be all right if I put ye on your horse?”

The movement would hurt, a lot, she was sure of it. “Ye can’t heal it for me?” she asked.

“No. But don’t worry, me ma can do it easily,” he said.

He wasn’t a healer then. There was no doubt in Neala’s mind he was a druid. The feel of his power was unmistakable. It made her wonder if he was like her, unable to tap into his full ability for some reason. How could her parents not have known there were other druids living so close by?

He knelt down next to her, fixing his crystal green eyes on her. “What’s yer name?” he asked.

“Neala O’Carroll.”

One of his eyebrows lifted and she realized she shouldn’t have said her last name. Her family controlled most of the southern portion of the Slieve Bloom Mountains. Any more it was really the clan that held the power and not her tiny family, but most people didn’t care about that detail. Her fears melted away when the young man smiled.

“I’m Brendan O’Donovan but ye can call me Bren.”

She gave him the best smile she could muster but it still felt like a grimace. He kept smiling and she realized he was probably cute beneath all the mud. For a moment she wondered if it would be awkward to be in a stranger’s arms, then he scooped her up and all she could think about was the pain in her foot. A whimper escaped her. Showing weakness in front of a stranger was the last thing she wanted to do but she couldn’t help it. The pain was so bad her vision actually swam.

“I’m sorry,” Bren said. His gentle voice eased more than just her mind.

Pressed against his chest as she was, she was immersed in his power. It danced along her skin and took the edge off the agony piercing her ankle. A small part of her wanted to shield herself from his power. It was an easy thing to do. All she had to do was imagine a wall around herself. At least that had always worked with her parents. But she didn’t try it. She liked the touch of Bren’s power. Something about it was comforting and felt nice in a way her parents’ power didn’t.

“Easy boy. I’m going to put her on ye now,” Bren said to Dubh.

Dubh danced about, pawing at the ground and swishing his tail. “Dubh stand,” Neala commanded.

He stopped prancing but his ears flicked back and forth and the muscles along his back twitched as if he was trying to rid himself of a fly. Bren hoisted her up and sat her on Dubh’s back as gently as he could. Neala clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry when her ankle touched Dubh’s side. The pain was so intense that her vision went dark and she leaned forward onto Dubh’s neck. The smell of horse sweat brought her a small measure of comfort, it also helped that he was warm. She suddenly realized she was freezing.

One of Bren’s hands came to rest on her hip and the other gripped her arm. His touch was so hot it almost burned but she didn’t mind. The warmth coming off him gave her the strength to sit up a little and open her eyes. It felt like his power was flowing over her, not healing her, but making her feel better.

“Ye’re so cold,” he said.

He backed up a step and pulled a pack off his back. Out of it he took a black, woolen cloak and wrapped it around her. His hand lingered on her shoulder. The cloak smelled like a mixture of spices and metal which she thought was an odd combination but pleasant. Warmth seeped into her. It felt so good that she let out a long, shuddering sigh.