Beyond a Darkened Shore(2)
It cocked its head at me once before letting loose a harsh caw-caw-caw. The sound sprang memories free in my mind: a murder of crows so large it was like a blot against the gray of the sky. My clansmen dying, and my own sister . . . no, I wouldn’t allow my mind to stray to such a place. Again, I looked toward the sea, but the line of water stretching toward the horizon was unbroken.
“Ciara!” Deirdre called, her tone sharp. I jerked my head up in time to see her pony sink to its front knees in preparation for a roll.
I rushed to her side and grabbed the pony’s reins. Ignoring me, the pony grunted as he continued to lower his considerable bulk to the sand. I held my hand out to Deirdre, an exasperated smile playing on my lips. “You’ll have to jump down. He won’t be dissuaded.”
She slid the short distance to the ground, and I pulled her out of the way. Free of his rider, the pony rolled nearly all the way onto his back, kicking his hooves into the air and snorting.
“Stubborn thing.” I shook my head. Beside me, Deirdre giggled.
“Oh no,” Branna groaned from somewhere nearby.
I turned to see our mother hurrying down the winding path to the shore, the velvet of her skirts swishing angrily in her wake.
“Ciara!” Máthair called as soon as she was within hearing range, her voice as sharp as a blade. Her entire focus was on me.
Her sleeves trailed nearly to the sands of the beach as she stopped before me, her long blond hair in waves down her back. She reached out and pulled Deirdre to her. “Did you fall, child?” she asked, her hands cupping Deirdre’s cheeks.
“No, Máthair,” Deirdre said.
“Ciara was only giving us a riding lesson,” Branna said from the back of her pony.
“Come down from there, Branna,” our mother said, letting go of Deirdre. She gestured vehemently toward Bran as though she was astride a great menacing wolf rather than a docile pony.
Frustration evident in the set of her shoulders, Branna slid down.
Máthair’s attention shifted to me, her mouth tight. “How could you have endangered them like this, Ciara?” She swept her arm out to indicate the shore. “Here, of all places?”
Her words triggered a heavy guilt, but I forced my back to straighten. She wasn’t truly upset over the fact that my sisters were riding. Ever since Alana, she feared anything that could potentially endanger them—even if it was a necessary skill like riding. “I wanted them to learn to ride without having someone lead them. The soft sands of the beach are safer than the rocky meadow. They wouldn’t have been harmed if they fell.”
“But the Northmen have been spotted not far from here. Why did you not at least bring a guard?”
Because none would want to accompany me willingly. I met her narrowed gaze. “Because I can keep my sisters safe.”
The bluster seemed to leave her all at once, and she let out her breath. She couldn’t argue with the truth. “Ask for my permission next time,” she said. “Come, girls. We missed you at Lauds, but it’s not too late to go before the altar and pray for your father’s safe return.” With her arms around my sisters, she started back toward the keep, toward the chapel where my presence was so unwelcome that the faithful members of our clan believed I tainted its sacred ground. I schooled my features to hide the twinge of sadness I always felt at being so painfully excluded—it would only upset my sisters.
“I should help Ciara with the ponies,” Branna said, but I waved her off.
“I can get them,” I said, taking hold of the ponies’ reins.
As I followed behind, winding slowly upward on the rocky path that led to our father’s castle, a flickering shadow drew my gaze to the cloudless sky. The same crow circled high above, its inky feathers slicing through the weak morning sun.
It watched me with an interest no ordinary crow would have. And then I knew for sure.
They’re coming, a voice whispered in my mind, and a cold shiver snaked down my back. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the crow’s voice, and I knew it warned of only one thing: death. There could be no doubt: the Northmen were coming to our shores.
Then the crow let out a caw-caw-caw so startling even my mother and sisters paused.
Branna’s eyes were on the crow. “What does it mean?” she asked, her voice hushed. She had learned long ago that no omen should be ignored.
I met Máthair’s worried glance—a shared fear we couldn’t voice. Northmen.
“We should get back to the castle.” I gave the ponies another gentle tug to keep pace with me.
As we entered the castle bailey, where the stables, the kitchens, and the armory were located, I scanned the wide expanse, wondering if anyone else had noticed anything amiss. The morning buzzed with activity; two men guiding pigs and sheep through the bailey bowed their heads briefly when they noticed me watching. Kitchen servants beat the dust and ash from two matching red-and-gold rugs, chatting, oblivious to the tension that thrummed through the air and made the hair on the back of my neck rise.
Then a sound came that made my heart pound: a horn’s bellow echoed across the crowded courtyard, grinding everything to a stop. The color in our mother’s face drained away, and she tightened her grip on my sisters.
A shout from one of my clansmen rang out. Everything that was frozen leaped into frantic motion. Children were herded alongside livestock as too few of the men hurried to gather weapons.