Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors, Book 1)(4)
With one last shuddering breath, Conn slowly opened his eyes. The trees swayed back and forth, easing all tension from his spirit. “Thank you, Mother Danu.”
Slipping back into the water, Conn made his way back to his home. Quickly drying his body with a wave of his hand, he reached for an apple on the table and took a bite. The tartness of the fruit exploded in his mouth, and he let out a moan. Food in the Fae realm was sweeter—another fact he had forgotten in the human world. He wiped away the juices and stepped inside his chambers.
Entering his inner chamber, a haven just for him, he strode over to his giant armoire. Conn traced his fingers over the Celtic spirals etched in maple wood. He had worked tirelessly for months trying to fathom why the humans were fascinated with carving. Soon, he’d found pleasure in creating pieces from any type of wood. However, he would only take from the dying trees and never a living one.
Opening one of the doors, he pulled forth his royal tunic and pants. Quickly dressing, he wandered around the rooms, touching a book or admiring a quartz crystal, until he found himself back on the terrace. Tying his hair back with a leather thong, he opted not to wear shoes. He wanted to absorb as much as he could from his homeland. Lifting the pitcher, he poured some water into a goblet. Sipping the cool liquid, he stood and gazed outward. He filled his mind with every detail, as if fearing he would never return to this place.
Sensing the return of Ronan, he opened the door to his chambers with a single thought.
“Are ye ready?” asked the Fenian Warrior.
Smiling, Conn picked up another apple and stuffed it into his pants. “Yes.”
As he made his way out of the chambers, he glanced over his shoulder one last time. “I don’t think I’ll be returning,” he stated quietly.
“Ye are spouting nonsense. The Fae council will most likely suspend your powers for a thousand years, and ye will remain in the realm to oversee training of new Fenian Warriors.”
Conn blinked and looked at the Fae incredulously. “Considering what has transpired, they will not be asking me to train anyone, for fear I would taint them.”
Ronan placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I shall always be with ye, brother.”
“I walk this road alone, my friend.”
They proceeded to make their way along the corridors of the castle. Quietness settled within Conn as he passed along the many rooms and passageways leading to other areas of the great castle. Too quickly, they approached the hall of the Fae council.
Pausing before the closed doors, Conn turned to his friend. “Have you any news regarding Liam and Rory?”
A frown marred Ronan’s features. “None.”
Conn snorted. “I suppose my sins are far worse.”
The warrior crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye assume—”
“No. I merely state what I already know. It is a path I have chosen. Right or wrong, I shall own the choices. But know this, my friend. Those who seek to condemn me, have yet to venture far from this realm.”
Giving his friend a reassuring smile, Conn turned and strode inside the chambers of the Fae council to meet his fate.
Chapter Two
“When truths are revealed, you must bear the burden of the words.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Conn stared into the faces of the nine council members. Clasping his hands behind his back, he waited to be called forth. Before his powers were stripped, they would have acknowledged him within his thoughts. However, he now stood waiting for them to summon him forward by spoken words.
In addition, they deemed to make him wait even more as the golden leaflets with information passed from one member to the next in silence.
He had never stood before the council, and his view of the members had only been in passing. These Fae were chosen at a young age to learn the wisdom and laws of their people. Their training was lengthy, lasting decades. Their knowledge also consisted of learning all laws relating to the Fenian Warriors. Only when they had been deemed worthy, and passed numerous tests, would they become one of the nine who would serve for the next ten thousand years. Or until death claimed them first.
The room was unknown to Conn. He had never required their guidance. It was a place where other Fae sought out advice, wisdom, and at times, judgments. Thick, green ivy covered a long wooden table and wrapped around the legs, the only color in the stark room. The Fae realm was full of many colors, but this place held none. Even the floor was one of gray stone.
He glanced at the white walls and angled his head upward. Even the circular ceiling held no light from the outside. Letting his gaze settle once again on the members, he tried to process what form of defense he would be able to present. How could those who had never ventured far from the realm understand what he had done? They had never encountered the evil druid, Lachlan—a force only he and his other two brothers helped to destroy.
They will not be able to comprehend, so you are doomed. Conn almost barked out in laughter, so ridiculous to think they could, but instead, he smiled, and continued to wait.
Slowly, a female council member stood. “I am known as Seneca. You may come forward to the truth stone, Conn MacRoich.”
As he made his way toward the council, Conn glanced down at the massive polished quartz embedded within the stones. He paused. “And may I ask what I’m about to step onto?”
“Since we are unable to read your thoughts, we have only the words you speak here today. The truth stone will ensure that you give us the most accurate account of your transgression.”