Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors, Book 1)(3)

“Ye wound me,” teased his friend. “Yet, ye are to appear in your royal tunic.”

“I have a fresh one in my chambers. Surely, the council can wait until I’m cleaned and in proper clothing.”

“Not wise to keep the members waiting.”

Conn smirked. “Like I care?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “’Tis your trial.”

Emerging from the trees, Conn’s steps faltered as the light touched his shoulders. Casting his gaze to the valley below, he inhaled deeply. The Fae realm was buried far below the Hill of Tara, yet, this portion of the kingdom mirrored the one above. Rolling hills in various hues of green surrounded a valley rich with Fae life. Colors so vibrant and opulent, the bucolic scene stole the breath from his lungs. To the east and west marked the ancient waterfalls—one denoting the birth of a Fae, and the other, in the west, a passing of life. He sighed, keeping his sight on the waterfall in the west—Tir na Og, the Land of Forever. How many Fenian brothers had he lost to this place? Too many!

Slowly lifting his head to the north, Conn let his sight fall on the great palace of the King, Queen, Fae council, and the Brotherhood of the Fenian Warriors. Massive towers shimmered with all the colors of Earth’s crystals, along with those from the Fae’s homeland—Taralyn.

“How long has it been?” inquired Ronan quietly.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Conn ran his hand through his hair. “One hundred years, ten months, two days, five hours, and thirty seconds.” He looked at his friend. “Those are Fae times.”

Ronan’s eyes went wide. “Ye roamed above for over a thousand years?”

Conn shrugged and glanced away. “There was much to do.”

“Then I must warn ye to beware the whispers, my friend.” He clapped a hand on Conn’s shoulder.

“Whispers?” Shrugging out of his friend’s grasp, he made his way down the hill.

Ronan was alongside him in two strides. “They say ye have stayed far too long with the humans. Ye think like one.”

Conn halted. “That’s absurd!”

“Aye, I ken, but ye have to consider that ye have not returned, if only for a year. These are your people, too.”

Ignoring his Fae brother, Conn continued to make his way down the hill. How dare they whisper behind his back—a great Fenian Warrior. Did he not do everything that was required of him? Repeatedly, he had walked into battles, rescuing those in need. Steering a course of a human life when needed. He clenched his jaw as he strode more quickly.

Conn could hear Ronan shouting, but he gave no care. His Fae blood boiled. I will show them all!

In a brilliant flash, Conn appeared in his chambers within the crystal palace. Stumbling forward, he landed against his writing desk.

“Shit!” he bellowed. Twisting around, he lunged at Ronan. However, the warrior vanished and reappeared on the other side of the chamber.

Ronan’s eyes flashed, and he held a hand up in warning. “I will not fight ye, my brother.”

Breathing heavily, his hands shook. Great Goddess, what was wrong with him? Anger surfaced so quickly, it blinded him. When he had regained his composure, he asked, “Did it not occur to you that I wanted to walk back?”

The Fae angled his head. “Seriously? Do ye ken how long it would take?”

Conn’s mouth twitched in humor. “Months?”

“Aye.” Ronan chuckled. He waved a hand in the air. “The council has not stripped your chambers of magic. Therefore, ye can move around freely and do what ye must to appear presentable.”

“How kind,” he replied dryly, glancing around.

“Ye will find food and drink on your terrace. I will return for ye in one hour.”

Conn was tempted to ask if the hour was human or Fae. “Thank you.”

Ronan smiled and vanished.

Rubbing a hand over his chin, Conn slowly made his way into his private bathing area, which consisted of a huge garden. A waterfall cascaded down into a pool surrounded by lush foliage. Smells of lavender, honeysuckle, and roses drifted by him. Hummingbirds flitted about, their presence soothing. He had forgotten how peaceful the Fae realm could be, especially his own chambers.

Uncertainty had become his companion in the Room of Reflection, slithering inside him and draining him all those months. The stench of the human world cloaked him, and he shook his head in frustration. Perhaps Ronan was correct. He had stayed away far too long from his own people, albeit his own decision.

But why had he? A question without an answer.

Stripping free of his torn tunic and pants, he descended down to the pool. Diving in, the warmth of the water seeped through his tired bones and flesh, cleansing the grime from a battle fought many moons ago. Taking his time, he stroked lazily to the other side, enjoying the caress of the water on his skin.

When he reached the other side, he climbed on top of a polished boulder to warm himself in the sunlight. Crossing his legs under him, he glanced around and closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he held his breath and then let it out slowly. Releasing all thought, Conn allowed his body to drift—becoming one with the realm once again. The rich earthiness of the land filled him, and he took what she had to offer. As his body and mind adjusted to the Fae realm, he absorbed the power, but only taking what he required in his healing.

“No matter your path, you are a Fenian Warrior. You are Fae. You are of my blood—far more ancient than the land you sit upon. A new day dawns within you. Though you may not be human, they are to be respected, as well.”