Read Online Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles) by Natalie Wright - Free Book Online
Authors: Natalie Wright
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happiness. Even Dughall was impressed with the magic that had protected the Grove all these thousands of years. Of course, the local peasants were no match for his superior intelligence and desire to have what lay inside these walls.
Dughall gave the order. “Tear down that gate!” he bellowed.
The men at once took their axes and hatchets and hacked away at the gate. In a matter of minutes, they had torn down the gate and funneled into the Grove on foot and horseback.
Dughall mounted his horse and sauntered into the Grove. Even he had to stop for a moment and admire its beauty. The light was softer here, especially as compared to the dark and harsh light of the thicket outside these walls. Inside the Grove, it was peaceful. There was only the sound of the wind through the trees, a distant babbling brook and the occasional cricket or birdsong.
But most lovely was the smell. The wind wafted the most delicious odor of fruit blossoms through the air. For Dughall, it called to mind happy memories from the homeland of his childhood. He was lost momentarily in his thoughts when Cormac interrupted.
“Sire, we are inside the gate.”
“I know that you idiot,” Dughall growled back.
“What is your next order Sire?” Cormac asked.
Dughall gathered himself. “Tell your soldiers, round up every person in this place. Do not kill anyone! I need them all alive. . . for now. Go!”
The soldiers spread out and ransacked every building they found, searching for the inhabitants of the lovely Grove. They searched the entire front half of the Grove and found not a single person. Dughall was frustrated and considered ordering them to torch the place when he heard a call.
“Sire, over here!”
The call came from the large building at the back and center of the Grove. As he entered he saw the priestesses, all in a tight circle in the center of the building. They were dressed in ordinary linen tunics tied around the waist with a thin cord.
“Do not kill any of them,” Dughall ordered. “Find the one with the gold torc around her upper arm. Bring that one to me. After you find her, kill the rest.”
At that moment, the women untied their sashes and ripped off their tunics. Underneath all were dressed in their battle clothes. Leather breeches with a dagger strapped to each thigh. A strong leather harness slung around their shoulders armed with hatches, maces, swords and Chinese blades. The priestesses quickly put on the helmets that they had hidden behind their backs. They armed themselves and readied for battle so quickly the soldiers were frozen in fear.
Dughall was incensed at the sight. Each woman wore the same item around her right arm. All of them wore a torc! How would he tell which one was the magical torc? He was ready to order the soldiers to kill them all, to hell with it! But Macha flew close to his ear and interrupted his thoughts.
“Dughall, it’s a ruse,” she whispered.
“What? What do you mean?”
“She isn’t here. The real torc is with her somewhere else.”
Her words sunk in. Look for her somewhere else.
“Yes, Macha, Cormac, old man – the three of you are with me,” he said as he turned to leave the Great Hall.
“Sire,” a soldier called. “What do we do here?”
“Kill them all,” he replied.
As soon as Dughall left the Great Hall, the women warriors spread out. Flying out from the center came Madame Wong! She was a jumping, bouncing, flying ball of sword and dagger. She slashed and thrust her sword so quickly that any soldier in her path fell to his death before he could be sure what had hit him.
The most trained and skilled women warriors flanked the outside of their circle, wielding their arms with grace and power. Intermixed with the Priestesses were many faeries, armed with bow and arrow and slingshots. And in the center of the circle were the younglings, well protected by their older sisters, the Fair Sídhe and Madame Wong. The younglings did their part by chanting their most
Dughall gave the order. “Tear down that gate!” he bellowed.
The men at once took their axes and hatchets and hacked away at the gate. In a matter of minutes, they had torn down the gate and funneled into the Grove on foot and horseback.
Dughall mounted his horse and sauntered into the Grove. Even he had to stop for a moment and admire its beauty. The light was softer here, especially as compared to the dark and harsh light of the thicket outside these walls. Inside the Grove, it was peaceful. There was only the sound of the wind through the trees, a distant babbling brook and the occasional cricket or birdsong.
But most lovely was the smell. The wind wafted the most delicious odor of fruit blossoms through the air. For Dughall, it called to mind happy memories from the homeland of his childhood. He was lost momentarily in his thoughts when Cormac interrupted.
“Sire, we are inside the gate.”
“I know that you idiot,” Dughall growled back.
“What is your next order Sire?” Cormac asked.
Dughall gathered himself. “Tell your soldiers, round up every person in this place. Do not kill anyone! I need them all alive. . . for now. Go!”
The soldiers spread out and ransacked every building they found, searching for the inhabitants of the lovely Grove. They searched the entire front half of the Grove and found not a single person. Dughall was frustrated and considered ordering them to torch the place when he heard a call.
“Sire, over here!”
The call came from the large building at the back and center of the Grove. As he entered he saw the priestesses, all in a tight circle in the center of the building. They were dressed in ordinary linen tunics tied around the waist with a thin cord.
“Do not kill any of them,” Dughall ordered. “Find the one with the gold torc around her upper arm. Bring that one to me. After you find her, kill the rest.”
At that moment, the women untied their sashes and ripped off their tunics. Underneath all were dressed in their battle clothes. Leather breeches with a dagger strapped to each thigh. A strong leather harness slung around their shoulders armed with hatches, maces, swords and Chinese blades. The priestesses quickly put on the helmets that they had hidden behind their backs. They armed themselves and readied for battle so quickly the soldiers were frozen in fear.
Dughall was incensed at the sight. Each woman wore the same item around her right arm. All of them wore a torc! How would he tell which one was the magical torc? He was ready to order the soldiers to kill them all, to hell with it! But Macha flew close to his ear and interrupted his thoughts.
“Dughall, it’s a ruse,” she whispered.
“What? What do you mean?”
“She isn’t here. The real torc is with her somewhere else.”
Her words sunk in. Look for her somewhere else.
“Yes, Macha, Cormac, old man – the three of you are with me,” he said as he turned to leave the Great Hall.
“Sire,” a soldier called. “What do we do here?”
“Kill them all,” he replied.
As soon as Dughall left the Great Hall, the women warriors spread out. Flying out from the center came Madame Wong! She was a jumping, bouncing, flying ball of sword and dagger. She slashed and thrust her sword so quickly that any soldier in her path fell to his death before he could be sure what had hit him.
The most trained and skilled women warriors flanked the outside of their circle, wielding their arms with grace and power. Intermixed with the Priestesses were many faeries, armed with bow and arrow and slingshots. And in the center of the circle were the younglings, well protected by their older sisters, the Fair Sídhe and Madame Wong. The younglings did their part by chanting their most
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