The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

Cindy Holby Quicksilver

Ireland — 545

Conn Daithi ignored the mist that swirled around him and kept on riding. Even though he was well seasoned in the art of war, he knew his sword and shield would not be of much help for him against the undead spirits that hid in the shadows of the fog. ’Twas Samhain and the air around him swirled as the veil between his world and the next threatened to split apart. Those who lingered at the edge were anxious to show their displeasure at the prospect of Christianity coming to their kingdom even though the stones of the abbey at Sligo were only recently placed.

The mountains of Ben Bulbin were long behind him. He made for Imleach Iseal on the coast. He had seen the festival bonfires earlier but they had long since disappeared into the mist. Niul tossed his head as if to shed the water that dampened his dark-as-night coat and Conn placed a reassuring hand against the stallion’s neck. They were both weary of travel and of the ceaseless battles that raged across the Isle. Conn wanted nothing more than to escape the demands put upon him by the highest bidder for his sword arm yet he was forever trapped by the sea. He’d lost too many brothers, too many friends and too much time to war. Mayhap here, in this small fishing village, he could find a boat that would take him and Niul away from this place. Mayhap then, he would find some peace.

Conn could smell the sea and he took deep gulping breaths, hoping it would cleanse his lungs of the scents of death. He trusted Niul and gave the horse his head as they picked their way among the boulders that lined the slope between field and shore. As they moved downwards, the mist cleared somewhat, revealing thin lines of clouds that partially shadowed the full moon. Even though the air was chill, his skin felt moist beneath his leather jerkin and linen chainse, as if it were the middle of summer instead of the end of the harvest season. Stranger still, jagged flashes of light danced across the sky even though there was no sign of rain. Conn saw the outline of a tower in the distance.

Túr Rí. The tower was old and legends surrounded it. It was built by the Fomorian king, Conan, who then slaughtered the workers when the task was done. Wars had been raged and the Nemedians had defeated them, but it was said that the Fomorians were once more in possession of the island. There was also talk of a mighty warrior called Balor who could kill just by staring at his opponent with the one eye centred in his forehead. Conn put more trust in his sword than in whispered legends. If someone could kill him with a look he would have been dead long ago.

Niul snorted and jerked against the reins as they reached the packed sand that rolled into the sea. The wind strengthened and swirled about him, tossing his cloak in tandem with the thick mane of Niul. A shiver ran down his spine, a warrior’s intuition that he always obeyed. Conn urged Niul into a quick gait and his eyes ran over the sand to see if there were, indeed, a threat.

He saw something rolling in the waves. Niul danced sideways as Conn urged him onwards. He drew his sword from its sheath and held it easily in one hand while he grasped Niul’s reins with the other. A wave crashed on to the shore and with it came a body. Conn leaped over Niul’s neck and landed in the sand on the balls of his feet with his sword held before him.

The clouds suddenly parted from the moon and cast light down upon the beach as the waves carried the body back out. Conn waded into the surf and grabbed an arm. As he dragged the victim to shore, he realized that the body was that of a woman. She was completely nude except for her long pale hair, which was the same colour as the moonlight. It tangled about her hips and thighs like seaweed.

Conn buried his sword, point down, into the sand and knelt beside her. He leaned in close to hear her heart beat. She was tall and thin with small breasts and narrow hips but he paid no mind to her form beyond wanting to know if she was alive or dead. A gasping breath gurgled in her throat, which gave him hope. Conn pulled her up by the shoulders and bent her over his arm before giving her back a sound thump. She gagged and coughed and then spewed forth water from the sea.

«There, lass,» he said. «’Twill be better once it is gone.»

She nodded as she clung to his arm. Her back was to him, revealing a long knobby spine and the definition of her ribs. It was obvious she had not eaten for a good long while. Amidst the tangle of her hair he saw a symbol etched into her shoulder. He pushed her hair aside and examined a double blue triangle formed by three curving lines. He traced it with his fingertip.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced quickly over her shoulder. He caught the flash of her quicksilver eyes and saw the tips of her ears jutting though her hair. In the next moment he was flat on his back, lying in the sand, and the point of his sword was at his throat.

«Sidh.» He watched her warily. The Sidh were known for moving quicker than men and being deceptively strong despite their slim and willowy builds. It was the first time he’d ever met one face to face. «Until now, I did not think ye truly existed.»

«As ye know what I am, then ye also know that I owe you an allegiance. Ye have saved my life.» She knelt before him in the sand with the sword now safely pointed down. «I am Aine. What do you desire?» She kept her head bowed, but her quicksilver eyes looked up at him alluringly and he felt the familiar tightening in his groin. It had been a long time since he enjoyed a woman. A longer time since he’d fallen into a trap. She appeared so regal, alike to a queen, even though her position was submissive and she was clothed in naught but her hair. She stayed her place, waiting for his answer.

«I want my sword back,» Conn said and was amused to see a flare of anger light her pale eyes. He held out his hand to help her up as he took his sword from her grip with the other. She put a hand to her head as she stood, looked at him with bewilderment in her quicksilver eyes, and then fainted into his arms.

Aine watched the man through slitted eyes as he placed more driftwood upon the fire. She had fainted. Too long without food or rest had weakened her, just when she needed to be strong. She’d escaped from Tor Inis, had a weapon and a horse at her disposal, along with a strong man that she could enslave, and instead she’d fallen into his arms like a youngling who drank too much mead.

He was handsome in the way of human men. Broader than the Sidh. Nearly as tall. Darker, and definitely more dangerous. His answer to her offering alone was enough to show his intelligence. He also showed kindness — she now wore his linen chainse and was wrapped in his cloak. What would a man such as this want?

«Are you hungry?» he asked. He knew she was no longer asleep. She would have to be very careful around this man.

Aine sat up. He had caught a fish and cooked it while she slept. Normally the smell would have awakened her. She must be weaker than she thought. «Once more I am indebted to you,» she said as he handed her part of the fish.

He settled back against his saddle and watched her with his dark eyes. His hair was a midnight black, with the straight ends brushing across his wide shoulders. He wore a leather jerkin, which opened against a broad chest and showed long arms bulging with muscle. His nose was proud and straight except for a bump at the top where it had been broken. His strong jaw showed only a day’s growth of beard and a scar marred his left cheek from the corner of his eye to the curve of his chin. Everything about him bespoke a warrior, from the casual closeness of his weapons to the steady perusal of his gaze. He was sizing her up and trying to decide if she would be a friend or foe. His kindness to her could be perceived as a weakness by some. Aine decided to see it as a sign of a sharp mind. Men who overestimated their worth and underestimated hers had suffered greatly for their mistakes. Would he do the same?

«Where do you come from?» he asked.

«By birth or as of late?»

«Of late.» He dipped his head to the sea behind her. «How came you to be on this shore?»

«I was held captive on Tor Inis.» Aine licked the last of the fish from her fingertips. «By Balor and his minions.»

He gazed out at the isle and the lightning that slashed across the sky. She knew Balor would soon find her escaped from the tower. She must be gone from this place before the tide moved out and the passage between his isle and this shore was opened. Yet she could not leave until this man released her. She had traded one form of captivity for another.

«You escaped?»

«I threw myself into the sea from the tower,» she said. «It was my hope to escape. Or die.»

«’Tis the way of most things in this world.» He sounded weary and bitter. There were more questions he could ask her, should ask her, yet he did not. Most men would. But then again, most men would have taken advantage of her weakness by now, and then regretted it when they realized her true power.

The fire popped and crackled as a piece of the driftwood split and fell into the coals. The flames shot higher and turned his face into shadows and light as if it were carved of stone. If she were to return to her home world, then she must do it soon, ere the chance would be lost for another year. Not that a year was much to her in this world. Still she had been too long gone and longed to see her people again.

«What is your name?»

«Conn Daithi.»

Daithi. An old and proud name. As old as Ireland. «Who do you fight for Conn Daithi?»

«I fight for myself.» His eyes were steady upon her, challenging her to say otherwise.

A roar broke the peace of the night and drifted across the water from the isle behind them. «’Tis a good thing then,» she said. «As soon enough you will do battle.»

Conn heard the war cry as it rolled across the waves. Aine spoke of Balor as her captor. Balor who was a myth, just as the Sidh were a myth. Yet a Sidh sat across from him at the fire. If the Sidh existed then Balor must also. It was the way of things.

He should have left her in the water. Left her to drown. He would be in the village by now, drinking fine mead and eyeing a wench to help pass the long hours of the night. But alas, he did not, so he picked up his sword and walked to the water’s edge.

«Is what they say of him true?»

«’Tis so,» she replied.

How did one fight a man who could kill with a look? Conn glanced over his shoulder. She had come to join him, wearing nothing but his chainse. The wind whipped the tail of it across her body, along with her hair. Her pale locks swirled around her as if caught up in a whirlwind. She studied him once more with her quicksilver eyes, taking his measure. For some strange reason he did not want her to find him lacking. Conn flipped his sword around in his hands to loosen his muscles and relax his stance.

«He will come across the passage when the tide reveals it.» Her voice was steady and calm. «There is still time for you to go on your way.»

Her words were like a punch to his gut. «Do ye think me a coward?» Why did he care what she thought?

She kept her eyes on the tower. «Nay, I think this is not your battle to fight.»

Conn studied her profile. Her features were pleasant and without defect. Indeed they were most pleasing, yet he preferred his women to be buxom and curved. Still there was something about her. Something that called out to his soul. Something that he had not felt in a very long time. A thing that he thought long gone and lost in the blood of the many battles he had fought. «What does he want with you?»

She shrugged. «What does any man want with a Sidh woman?»

It was long said that if a man could capture a woman of the Sidh then that man would have his heart’s desire. There were also stories of men who had attempted to capture a Sidh woman and suffered greatly from the curses the women put upon them. Some had lost their ears, some their eyes, some their sons and daughters, and some their very souls. Who was Balor that he would not suffer thusly?

Conn studied her closely. «If I go what will become of you?»

«He will take me once more to the tower and use me as hostage against my kinsmen. He thinks to have our treasures. He thinks that they are tangible things that he can place in a chest and lock away. He is a fool as most men of your world are.»

«Ye do not have a great opinion of the men of this world,» he observed.

«The men of your world seek to use me for their own end. And yet here ye stand, one who could have used me dearly in my weakness and chose not too.»

«I am not a raper of women, nor am I a thief. I only take what is due me. My wages, some food, and most nights a dry place to pass the time. I earn my way honestly in all things.»

«Ye have honour.» She did not question it nor did she seem surprised by it as her earlier words would have led him to believe.

«’Tis all I have to keep me company.» He was bitter and his words betrayed his weakness. «’Tis Samhain. Can ye not go back to your world?»

«He holds my key on a chain about his neck. Without it I cannot return.»

«I will take you with me.»

«He will follow me. If we go to the village he will tear it and the people within it apart to have me. No one around me is safe.»

He knew it to be true. He’d seen men and women of power do the same. Was it not the reason he sought peace? He was tired of the senseless killing over the whims of others, especially those who wore the crowns. Was it not the purpose of the kings and queens to care for the people? At least this woman of the Sidh showed compassion for those who were innocent. She would not bring death and destruction to any village.

She spoke without conceit. She knew her value to Balor who thought she was the way to great treasures. Yet she said there were none. Mayhap Balor did not realize that the woman in herself was the treasure, or could be with tender care.

The wind shifted, a sure sign of the retreating tide. How long until the way was cleared? Long enough for him to think on his life and his mistakes. The woman, Aine, must have cast a spell on him ere he would have left long ago. It was his only reasoning for why he still stood with the surf lapping at his boots while he looked at the lightning that streaked about the tower. Yet she had urged him to go before Balor came on shore. There was something inside him that protested the thought of leaving her to the beast.

«How dost one fight someone who can kill you with a look?»

She gazed at him, her quicksilver eyes once more taking his measure. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. «There is a way but it would mean ye would have to put your trust in me. Do you think ye can do so, Conn Daithi?»

Trust her? He trusted no one. The only thing he had faith in was his horse, his sword and the arm that wielded it.

«Have ye charmed me?» He could not think of a time when she could have unless it was when he first saw her face. Conn closed his eyes as if to look inside his mind for the chains that linked him to her. She shook her head. He was in full control of his senses.

«’Tis your honour that bids you stay, naught else,» she said as if she could read his thoughts. «Ye can not leave a woman to fend for herself, even though ye know that I am Sidh. Why is that?»

Her quicksilver eyes searched his face, daring him to let her inside his thoughts. He would not allow it so he turned away from her and once more looked to the isle although he did not see it. What he did see was a horrible memory.

He could still see their bodies and feel the flames. His mother and his two sisters, brutalized before they were thrown into the fire to die. Because there was no man there to defend them. How could this Sidh woman know such things about him, about his past? How could he put such thoughts into words? The memories were too horrible, too near.

«Could you fend for yourself?» He growled the words, doubtful of her answer.

«Would my answer change yours? If I told you that I may wield a sword as easily as a man would ye leave me to my fate? If my reply was that I am at his mercy would ye give up your life in an attempt to save mine?» She stood at the edge of the surf with her hair flying about her. She turned her quicksilver eyes upon him. «I will not answer yea or nay so that ye may not cry out that I tricked you.»

«If I am dead what will it matter?»

She pulled back the hair that tossed across her face and held it there so that her gaze was unfettered. «It will matter to me.»

There were more things he should ask her. There were things he should know about the enemy that would come. He should not trust her yet she said he must to survive the coming battle. All these thoughts he pushed from his head. Instead he put his arm about her waist and pulled her to him. She felt as light as the night air, yet solid in her strength, like the blade he bore in his other hand. He cared naught for that at the moment. If he were to die, then he would know in the next few moments what he was to die for.

She offered him no resistance. She stared at him with her quicksilver eyes as her hair flew about their bodies as if to wrap them into a cocoon. A slight smile twisted her lips. She moved as he did, each turning their head towards a kiss. He was gentle at first, testing her and she complied. He moved his hand up to her head and wrapped his sword arm around her back, pulling her fully against him. Her arms twined about his neck and the kiss turned from gentle question to answering need.

Another battle cry from Balor met his ears but he ignored it. His time to fight would come soon enough. For Conn there was nothing else but this instant, with this woman.

Aine well knew his intent. It was always the intent of men to possess her. Yet this man, at this time, was different. He did not want her for her powers or because he thought she was the key to a great treasure. He just wanted her for her. Because he was alone and about to face death and he wanted to know that life was worth the living. He wanted her because he was a man and she was a woman. It was the most basic of needs that blurred the lines between human and Fae.

Aine decided not to think on it. She decided just to feel. His lips moved against hers, his tongue probed her mouth and she let him in. She felt the pressure of his sword hilt in the small of her back and his shaft rubbing against her belly. She ground her hips against his and he growled, low in his throat. He picked her up without breaking the kiss and carried her to the cloak she’d left lying by the fire.

Conn buried his sword, blade first into the sand. He stood over her, tall and wide of shoulder, narrow of waist and hip. His dark hair shadowed his face as he looked down at her with the firelight reflecting in his eyes. Behind him the lightning flashed across the sky and Balor once more screamed his horrible cry. His muscular thighs flexed as he knelt before her. She rose up to meet him and he lifted the hem of his tunic to pull it over her head.

Her body was not a mystery to him. He had seen her before when he pulled her from the surf, had even placed his chainse upon her body after taking it from his own. Still he looked at her, his eyes sweeping her from head to toe as she once more lay back on the blanket in the sand.

He took off his jerkin and set it aside to expose his deeply muscular chest and the deep clefts of his stomach. She was not surprised when he left his gauntlets and chausses in place. He would not be caught unready should any happen upon them. His eyes covered her, ravaged her until he lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. She was prepared for him to conquer her in the way that most warriors would. She was not ready for the gentle and tender possession of his arms about her, nor the way his lips softly touched hers.

He kept his eyes open while he kissed her and she saw that they were a deep shade of blue, like the sea on a stormy day. It was strange, gazing into his eyes. She could not have stopped, or closed her own, as they seemed to hold her captive while his arms gave her opportunity to escape, if she desired it.

She did not. She desired more. More of him, more of his kisses, more of his hands roaming her back and side, yet aching with need as he cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb over the peak of her nipple. She gasped against his mouth and arched into his palm while her hips moved closer against him and begged him for more. He shut his eyes, finally, as if falling into a dream, and slowly trailed kisses down her neck. His hair brushed against her skin, guiding the way for his mouth, until she thought she would combust with need. His lips touched her breast and drove her body to a greater desire.

Was she wrong about him? Was he more than a man? More than a mortal? For surely no mortal could send her into this boiling cauldron of want. This was something she’d never felt before and all she could do was wrap her hands in his hair, close her eyes and hold on.

His hand trailed over her stomach and her muscles clenched at his touch as anticipation filled her. He splayed his big hand into the hollow of it, the width of his fingers spread wide enough to cover her from side to side. She spread her legs, willing him and wanting him to touch her, there, in that place that brought the dancing of stars across the sky. His thumb dipped into her folds and she sighed deeply and hooked her leg around his hip.

He watched her. She opened her eyes to see his eyes on her. A quick smile flitted across his face as he looked at her and she wondered, briefly, what it would be like to see him laugh. Then he dipped his fingers inside of her and all thoughts fled her mind save one: I want him.

Her hips rose to meet his hand.

«Aine,» he said and took his hand away. She reached for him. His hands were at his waist, removing his chausses and she helped him, slipping them down and freeing him.

The gentleness left him then. He pulled back and pushed inside her, until he was buried and his pelvis ground against her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her nails down his back and held on. He kissed her again, desperately. He pulled her lower lip into his teeth. She rocked against him, with him. He released her lip and buried his head into her neck. Her eyes were open and she saw the sky, clear now, and the stars like pinpricks in the heavens above. She kept her eyes on them until they began to swirl and she knew if she reached up her hand, she could touch them. She gathered a handful, wrapped her arms around Conn’s waist and held on as the brilliance of the stars blinded her.

Aine’s fingers gently traced a pattern on the small of his back as Conn lay atop her and gathered his strength. The base of his spine tingled where she touched him. He understood now why men lost their souls in pursuit of a Sidh woman. He’d never experienced a release such as the one just past. He felt blinded from it, as if he’d looked directly at the sun. It was strange, the feeling of disquiet, mixed with something he could only call contentment. If only he could stay in her arms for the rest of the night, nay, for the rest of his life.

Balor’s battle cry, drifting once more across the water, reminded him that he could not. Without a word, he rose, adjusted his chausses, and handed his chainse to Aine before he went to his stallion. Niul lowered his head and Conn leaned his brow against it in silent communication with the one who had been his dearest companion.

He heard her movement behind him, felt her silent footsteps in the sand. She touched the small of his back once more. «How long have you had this mark?» Her question surprised him. Conn glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had wrapped his cloak about her body. The wind held a bite to it. He should build up the fire while he had the chance.

«Of what mark do you speak?» he asked. «Is it a scar?» He knew of none in that location. He had several, however, all souvenirs of his many battles, but none in the small of his back.

«Nay.» She traced it once more with her fingers. «’Tis like mine,» she said and dipped her shoulder to show him the blue interlocking lines upon her back.

Conn’s hand went to his back. «I have no mark,» he said.

«Ye do.» Her eyes did not lie, yet it had to be so. He would know if he had a mark. He twisted around in an attempt to see for himself of what she spoke but his body would not bend to suit his desire.

Aine grabbed his hand. «Stop,» she said. «I will show you.» Conn jerked away from her. This talk of strange marks upon his skin was too much. He should not have made love to her. It was her way of entrapping him.

Yet, you were captivated by her before you made love to her. Your decision was made of your own free will. Was it not so?

«What spell have you placed upon me?» He wrinkled his brow, once more going over the moments since they met to recall if she had conjured something that he might have missed.

Aine smiled and touched the scar upon his cheek with her fingertip. «It is you who have placed a spell on me.» She pushed his hair away from his face and behind his ear. «I will show you the mark. Ye must allow it. Ye will see ’tis the only way to defeat Balor.» Aine placed her hand against his temple and stood beside him, facing in the opposite direction. «Ye will see what I see,» she said. «Close your eyes and it will be done.»

I have nothing to lose. I am already a dead man. Conn closed his eyes.

«Use my eyes to see.» Her voice held a caress that dispelled the incongruity of her words. He took a deep breath and released it.

He saw Niul, even though his back was to the horse. Niul tossed his head up and down and pawed at the sand. The line of his sight moved and Conn saw dark hair that tossed in the wind and his profile, facing the fire and the sea with his eyes closed. How can this be? He was seeing with her eyes. What else could it be? Her hand left his face, yet he could still see with her eyes. Her fingers trailed down his shoulder and back as her eyes followed the trail. He saw the scar below his shoulder blade from one of his first battles. Her eyes moved lower and — there — he saw the mark. She traced it with her fingers. Two sets of blue interlocking lines that looped at the corners and formed a triangle. Just like the mark on her shoulder. It closed into his vision and he realized she had bent so that it was at eye level. Then it faded from view and he felt her lips gently touch him with a kiss at the place where the mark had formed.

The mark and his vision of it were beyond his comprehension at the moment.

«It was not chance that brought us together this night at this place.»

He opened his eyes to find her standing before him. «Nor was it chance that placed the mark upon me.» He took her hands into his and turned them so they were palms up. They were ghostly white against the bronze of his skin. Delicate, as if he held a bird in his grasp. «Ye did this.»

Her eyes were steady upon him. «Believe me when I say I do not know how this happened, I just know that it has.» Her hands folded over his.

There were more important things to consider at the moment. «Whatever the cause there is naught to be done now. I am as trapped by this as you are.» He could not blame her for anything that had happened, or would happen, when it was his own honour that demanded he stay. The decision was made when he went into the surf to save her. He would not go back on it now.

Conn went to Niul. «Niul will take you, should things go badly.» His words were optimistic at best. He had no chance of winning a fight against a warrior who could kill with a look. He could only hope that he would die with honour, and take Balor with him, or wound him enough that Aine could get away. Conn saddled Niul as she watched.

«Let me be your eyes,» she said when he was finished preparing Niul. «It can work. You have seen that it will.»

«You would have me fight without honour by using your gifts?»

«I would have you balance the field. Balor certainly will not hesitate to use his gift against you. His gift that is endowed by evil and darkness. Let us fight evil and darkness with goodness and light.» Aine grabbed his arm. «I would not have you die needlessly.»

«I would hope not to die at all.» Conn looked at the sea, fallen back now, as the tide was nearly at its lowest point. He walked to the line where wet sand met dry and looked at the tower. The lightning was gone and the moon played a game of hide and seek with the clouds. A long time had passed since Balor’s last cry. He would come, and soon. «Could it be that easy?» he asked Aine who had once more joined him.

«Mayhap easier than you think,» she said. «Ye must simply trust in me.»

«Trust is not something simply given. Once upon a time I believed in it as I believed in the goodness of man and kings. I have since learned that the only thing worth believing in is your own true worth.»

«I believe in you. You have just shared your soul with me by this fire and I know it to be good. Indeed ye now wear the mark of my people, a blessing not lightly given. I have been honest with you in all things, not an easy task for me as my experience with man is not one I treasure.» She implored him once more. «Let me give you this.»

The clouds moved on and the light of the moon shone down upon them. Conn gazed into her quicksilver eyes and saw nothing to give him pause. They shone with emotion and his heart felt strange within his chest. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she moved it against his palm.

«I will trust you,» he said. Before his words were done Balor’s war cry joined them. He had come.

Aine stood by the fire with Niul’s reins in her hand. Conn stood a body length away before her. Both of them faced north and Balor who would soon be upon them. Conn wore a strip of linen, torn from his chainse, across his eyes and held his broadsword and shield in his capable hands.

Niul tossed his head and Conn jerked involuntarily in their direction. Aine calmed the horse with a touch and kept her eyes to the north. She sensed Balor in much the same manner the horse did.

Finally, from the shadows, he strode forth. He stood a head taller than Conn, completely bald, and with the one large blue eye in the middle of his forehead. The rest of his face was like that of a man, with a large nose and wide mouth with thick stumps of teeth. His chest was bare and his arms bore wide bands of bronze. He wore leather leggings tied with cross-garters, and low boots. One hand bore a sword and the other a mace. Balor walked directly to where Conn stood, thumped his broad chest with the hilt of his sword and roared.

«Trust in me,» Aine said. Her eyes focused on the chain about Balor’s neck. Upon it was her keystone that would take her back to her world. She must lay claim to it while the portal was open.

Conn spun his sword in his hands and widened his stance. Aine saw his head move, slightly, up and down, in agreement. He trusted her. She would not fail him.

It was as if he looked through a long deep tunnel. Mayhap it was because of her proximity. She was not as close as before when she showed him the mark. She must stay back to give him room to fight.

As Balor appeared from the darkness and stalked to where he stood, Conn was suddenly glad for the blindfold. Every instinct he possessed had screamed against it when Aine tore the strip from his chainse and placed it over his eyes. He knew now that she was right and he would not have been able to stop himself from staring at the one strange eye in Balor’s forehead. He would be dead before he had a chance to strike a blow at his enemy.

If the eye is his tool to killing then is the eye the sure way to kill him? Conn knew in his heart it was so. To kill Balor he must stab him in the eye. An eye that was a good head taller than he was, he realized, when Balor stopped before him, thumped his chest and roared.

«Trust in me.» He heard the words in his mind and nodded his head in response. He gripped his sword. He was ready.

Balor came at him in a rush. The giant’s frustration at Conn’s blindfold was obvious. Conn realized his perspective on Balor was a little off when he had to bend backwards to block an attack with the mace. He pushed up with his shield and swung his sword at Balor’s legs.

Aine must have realized the problem because his perspective suddenly changed. She had moved closer. He must be careful not to bring her into the battle. He could not become tangled with her, or, worse, let Balor grab her once more as a hostage.

He felt the satisfying drag of his sword as it nicked Balor’s leg. The giant roared once more in frustration and danced back and away from his thrust. Conn stood upright again and pressed his attack, leading with his shield and following with his sword. Balor’s reactions were slower but his reach was greater. While Conn barely brushed at the giant, he had to duck to avoid Balor’s swinging mace and thrusting sword that threatened to take his head off if either connected. Still he drove the giant back and knew by his vision that Aine followed.

But they were moving away from the firelight and her vision was dimming with the darkness that surrounded them. Aine was to his right, which meant she could not see what was coming to his left. He could only hope that his warrior’s instinct would lead him and his shield would do the job of protecting his side. One blow finally staggered him. Balor had come at him with his mace swinging from the side and it buried itself in the shield. As Balor tried to pull the mace free he pulled Conn’s arm with him so as to leave Conn’s torso exposed. Conn had no choice but to release his hold on his shield while he ducked and rolled beneath the thrust of Balor’s sword. He realized he’d come to his feet on the opposite side of Balor when all he could see was the giant’s back and himself beyond.

Balor swung his mace outwards, trying to free the shield. Conn knew Aine was running towards him. Still he must take advantage of Balor’s distraction. He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it over his head with the point facing straight out. As he brought the full force of his strength into the downwards motion, he felt the impact of metal against the bone of his thigh. Conn’s scream was one of pain, anger and frustration but he kept his grip. The loss of his balance pushed him against Balor and his sword went straight into his eye and pierced through his skull. Balor went to his knees and Conn fell to the side, dragging himself away. He ripped the blindfold from his face and turned in time to see the giant tumble face forwards into the sand, braced up by the hilt of his sword.

Aine rushed to his side. «We must get you away,» she said.

«Not without my sword,» Conn gasped. His entire side throbbed and blood gushed from the wound in his thigh

«They will come,» she said. «Make haste.»

He knew not of what she spoke. Yet the urgency in her voice caused a shiver to run down his spine. Aine helped him up and he threw an arm over her shoulder for support. They staggered the few steps to Balor’s body. Conn watched as she hurriedly snatched a chain from about the monster’s neck then stood back. Conn grasped his sword and struggled to pull it free.

«Come.» Her face relayed her fear as her eyes searched the darkness behind him. Conn sheathed his bloody sword. She wrapped her arm around his side and once more they staggered away, leaving a trail of blood behind them.

Conn felt a shiver run down his spine that had nothing to do with the wound in his hip as he dropped to the ground beside the fire. Aine’s hands were frantic as she tore his chainse into strips. «We must be away,» she said.

Conn grabbed her hand as she attempted to staunch the blood of his wound. «What comes? What else is there that I must fight?»

«You cannot fight against these warriors,» she said. She jerked her head and stared out at the beach where Balor’s body lay. Conn kept his hand on his sword as his eyes searched the beach for a threat. Aine was terrified of something else. By her actions he knew she was much more frightened of this unknown quantity than she had been of Balor. The fog swirled once more over the water and came their way, closing in on them with menace. What came with it?

«We do not have much time.» She went back to her work, her hands quick yet shaking as she padded the wound and wrapped a strip about his thigh. She helped Conn to his feet once more and grabbed Niul’s reins.

He heard it then: the sounds of many feet marching against the sand; the steady drip, drip of water; Aine’s gasp as she quickly slipped the chain she’d taken from Balor’s body over her neck and held the stone linked to it in her hand.

«What is your desire?» She turned her quicksilver eyes upon him and he saw her fear.

Conn squinted his eyes shut and shook his head at her question. Her voice seemed so very far away. He’d lost a lot of blood. It was hard for him to stand. When he opened his eyes he saw hands, reaching towards them with flesh falling from grasping, bony fingers. He shook his head once more. Aine stepped to him, stood before him, and looked into his eyes.

«What is your desire?»

There was one thing he wanted more than anything. It was the thing that brought him to this shore on this night. «I desire peace.»

Aine smiled at him. «Then you shall have it.» She wrapped her hand around the stone and said three words that were foreign to his ears. A bright light burst forth from her hand and blinded him. He felt himself falling.

There is peace in death.

Aine smiled as the portal opened and welcomed her to her home world. Niul danced a bit as she urged him forth, but her hands on the reins were sure even though the burden in her arms was heavy. Conn let out a sigh against her face as they passed through the gate. He was unconscious from his wound, and from the passage. She could not wait to see the laughter on his face when he awakened to find himself in the land of the Fae, where he would find peace.