Flames of Ashmore

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Siobhan

I inhaled a deep breath, then drew the heavy bow string back with fluid, practiced movements. I tried not to let my thoughts get in the way, and instead, focused on the target itself. Bold green and white lines circled the black center. My focus narrowed to the one spot I wanted to hit.

The arrow loosed. It flew through the air with the speed and precision given by an experienced archer, but still my aim was off. It didn’t surprise me in the least when the tip of the arrow lodged itself in the target an inch to the right of center.

“Blast.” Setting the bow on the stump next to me, I stomped forward, annoyed I hadn’t succeeded in my task. Wrapping my hand around the shaft, I wrenched the arrow from the braided board and stalked back to my spot.

Behind me, someone started to laugh. Whirling around, I glared at the old lady sitting on the porch. Her thinning white hair was tied back in a braid over her shoulder, disappearing into the multi-colored shawls she wrapped around her dark green dress. Her gnarled hands deftly used a knife to craft another arrow shaft. The lines of her face crinkled together with each boom of her laughter, gathering around amused brown eyes. Her name was Meryl, and most days, I looked on her fondly. Today, I found her laughter infuriating.

“No need to throw a tantrum, girl,” Meryl said, blowing the dust from the wood in her hands. “Getting angry with me isn’t going to change your fate.”

“I’m not trying to change my fate,” I insisted, ignoring the lie in my words. “I’m irritated this bloody arrow won’t fly straight. Yes, I know it’s my fault,” I yelled, hearing Meryl’s thought before the old woman could say it out loud.

Meryl chuckled, rocking her chair back and forth. She always had a way of soothing my temper, almost as if she was the empath instead of me. Bracing herself against the arms of the chair, she hauled her aged body to her feet, waving me away when I tried to help. “Bah. I may be old, girl, but I’m not helpless. I have something for you.” Turning, she stepped to the side of an old wooden door, the screen that made up the center in desperate need of repair. “Well, go on,” she said. “Make yourself useful. Open the door if you think me so feeble. What I’m after is inside.”

Obedient, I held the door and waited for Meryl to reappear. In all the weeks I’d been coming to the woman for lessons, I’d never been allowed inside. Meryl’s padded footsteps echoed down the hall, and I opened the door again without waiting to be asked.

The old woman placed a small brown sachet in the palm of my hand. It wasn’t heavy, but I felt its weight all the same. “Datura powder,” she told me. “Harvested during last month’s new moon.” She pointed to a tangled bush of white, trumpet-like flowers and grinned. The malice in her smile was unsettling. “They may look like any harmless flower, but one teaspoon of this in your foe’s tea and they’ll never live to see another sunrise. You remember how I told you to mix powders?” I nodded, earning a genuine smile. Meryl patted me on the cheek. “There’s a good girl. It’s getting late now. You’d better run along, or your mother will get suspicious.”

Glancing down at the time piece on my wrist, I cursed. Meryl’s laughter nearly brought me to tears. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Wrapping my arms around her thin shoulders, I squeezed as hard as I dared. “Thank you,” I murmured, committing Meryl’s sandalwood scent to memory. “I may not have long left, but I promise, I’ll never forget you.”

Meryl’s hands tightened for a moment of affectionate pressure, then too soon, she stepped back. “Off with you, now. We’ll see each other again.”

We wouldn’t, but I appreciated her words. They kept me from crying. Kissing her cheek, I stashed the bow and quiver of arrows on the porch, then pulled my dress on over the white underthings I’d been practicing in. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take them home with me. My parents would die of fright. But it was not their fate to die; it was mine.

I settled the basket of corn on my hip and took one last look at the crumbling shack and its mysterious occupant. I would never see them again. With one last wave, I set off at a quick pace down the lane, pushing back tears when I rounded the corner, and my beloved teacher was nowhere in sight.

My older brother, Declan, was waiting for me around the bend, disapproval painted over his handsome face. I greeted him with a brilliant smile, hoping it would hide my worry, before walking ahead of him, headed for home.

Declan and I looked nothing alike. He was like an early evening, with dark brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. His skin was light brown, the perfect blend of our parents. His height and protective posture always made me feel safe whenever he was around. I, on the other hand, was like a setting sun. My skin and hair were both honey brown, and I was good at projecting innocence to guard my secrets. Declan said it was the dimples that did the trick, but Meryl said my eyes gave me away if anyone bothered to look. They were slate gray and furious, filled to the brim with knowledge I wished I didn’t have. But I’d gotten good at hiding my anger. These days, no one but my brother and Meryl ever noticed.

“I wish you wouldn’t go see her,” Declan said, exasperated as he followed me down the lane to our manor house. “Somebody might see you coming from her road, and then what will you tell Mum?”

“You worry too much.” Spinning around, I gave him a wolfish grin, nearly losing my grip on the basket in the process. Declan winced. “Relax. I’m not going to spill the corn, and Mum isn’t going to find out I’ve been seeing Meryl. What she is going to know is that I’m enjoying this beautiful day in my favorite meadow with my favorite person, before I have to leave it all behind.”

Hefting his own satchel up on his shoulder, Declan sighed again.

I knew what he was thinking. We were leaving for Deithe in the morning. Every year, Declan looked forward to Lughnasadh. We all did. It was spectacular. The lights, the feast, the harvest. We enjoyed being able to indulge in the honeyed wine in front of our parents without feeling shame. It was a celebration.

But not this year.

No, this year, I knew Declan dreaded the coming festival just as much as I did, because this year, I was seventeen. He didn’t have to voice how worried he was. I could tell. This year, I would be part of the Choosing. My gift had manifested years ago, and it was only getting stronger. Telepathy wasn’t a common gift, even by the Goddess’s hand. We all knew I would be Chosen this year. Just as we all wondered how long I would live after the ceremony.

“Come on, Declan,” I said, bouncing back to him so I could see his face. I’d give anything to wash the concern away. “Give it a rest, will you? Lughnasadh happens once a year. Once. And this year, we get to visit the Temple. You’ve been looking forward to that since you were ten. You know the festival in Deithe will be so much better than the one here in Garman. Can’t you just enjoy it?”

His look of annoyance mixed with amusement and worry was so familiar, I almost laughed. “You get to live through the one in Garman,” he whispered. He hadn’t meant for me to hear, but he couldn’t hide from an empath.

For one pain-filled moment, I let myself be afraid. I let it trickle up my fingertips until I felt ice in my core and resisted the urge to shake. Then I pushed the emotion away. Fear wouldn’t stop what was coming. It would only make it worse. Declan wasn’t the only one terrified of what would happen during the Choosing, but it was no use thinking about it. He couldn’t stop the ceremony any more than I could, and I wasn’t about to let him worry more than necessary. There wasn’t a thing I could do to change my fate, but I could do that much for my family.

Our house was at the end of the lane, tucked back into a copse of trees. Fields filled with various crops surrounded the stone manor house we called home, as they surrounded the majority of houses in Garman. A small orchard of fruit trees stood to the left, saturating the air with their sweet scent. Grape vines wound over an arbor on the front porch, mixing in with the lavender petals of the clementine flower, one of Garman’s floral jewels. The tan stones exuded warmth, and the small fountain trickling into the blue pool was more than inviting. We’d never had an excessive amount of money like some of the families in the city, but as Papa said, we had more than enough to live a comfortable life.

The rounded wooden front door opened and my sister, Nessa, bounded out. Her brunette curls bounced off her shoulders while her little pink shoes clicked on the paving stones. Nessa was the youngest at only nine and hated being left behind. Still, she always greeted us with a bright, welcoming smile.

Holding out an arm, Declan tucked her in next to him. He raised a brow. “Been berry picking?” Her little fingers were covered in blue bilberry juice.

She grinned, showing off two missing front teeth, and pointed proudly to the basket of berries sitting on the bench near the door. “Mum said we could put them in a pie and maybe even have enough for a cake.” Her face crumpled a bit, and she suddenly looked unsure. “I hope it’s enough.”

“I’m sure it’s plenty,” Declan assured her, ruffling her hair.

Kneeling, I examined the berries. They were a deep, navy blue, shaped like bumpy spheres. They tasted sweet, like liquid sugar. “Wow, Gin, this is even more than last year. I think you just kicked my behind at berry picking.” I winked at her, coercing a giggle. “Just don’t tell Mum or she’ll give you my job every year.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Mum said from the doorway. Even at scarcely five feet tall, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her figure was plump and bountiful, yet solid—the better for hefting flour for the harvest, she liked to say. Her dark hair, so much like Declan’s, was done up in braids piled on top of her head and bound with a colorful scarf. She was dusted with a light sheen of flour, from her dark hair down to her green dress and apron, and there was a white smudge across her cheek, a stark contrast to her brown skin. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Mum took the basket of berries from me and beamed at Nessa. “Well, this is quite a haul, darling. The Goddess will be pleased.”

“Is it enough, Mum?” Nessa rushed forward and took her hand.

“Indeed. You picked just enough. The Goddess has blessed us with a bountiful harvest this season. I’m sure it will bring good fortune to us all.” Reaching out, Mum brushed a hand down my cheek. I could feel the worry even before it passed through her dark eyes, then disappeared. I wasn’t the only one good at hiding my emotions.

“Come,” she said, beckoning us into the house. “We have much to do before the feast tomorrow, especially with the two of you headed into Deithe.”

Nessa crossed her arms over her chest in a pout as soon as we entered the kitchen. “I wish I could go to Deithe.”

Mum made a clicking sound, expressing her disapproval, but I only laughed. Taking the crown of flowers I’d made from my basket, I placed it on top of Nessa’s head. I touched a finger to her nose. “You’ll go to Deithe when it’s your turn. Until then, I need you here.”

“You do?”

“Mmm hmm. You have a very special job to do here while we’re gone.”

Nessa’s eyes widened. “I do?”

“You do. I need you to help Mum and Da with the feast and getting everything ready for the harvest. They’ll need you to show them how to dance for the Goddess and eat for the Great God.” I pointed to myself and Declan. “We need you to listen to the stories and tell us everything that happens when we get back. You are so important this year, little sister. Do you think you can do that for us?”

Nessa stood up nice and tall, pride glowing like a halo around her head. Solemn and serious, she nodded.

Ruffling her curls, Declan looked up and I followed his gaze. Da stood in the doorway. He was well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and kind, gray eyes. Everyone said I looked just like him, but it was Declan that took after him the most. Declan inherited Da’s sense of humor and justice, as well as Mum’s strength and compassion. He would need every bit of that strength he could muster to escort me to the festival, especially because we both knew he’d be coming home alone.

I clenched my fists to keep from screaming.

Mum glanced at Da, expectant. He grinned. “They chose the Sullivan’s bull.”

“Makes sense.” Gripping the dough she was kneading with both hands, she lifted it up and turned it over. The dough made a slapping sound when it hit the bread board and she began to knead the other side. “The Sullivan’s stock is plentiful. No doubt their bull will make an excellent sacrifice to Lugh. The Great God will be pleased. Garman will surely be blessed this year.”

“It should be a splendid festival,” Da agreed. For just the barest of moments, I felt the stark grief my father tried to hide. By the time he smiled at Nessa a moment later, it was gone.

I rolled my shoulders back and did my best to muster a cheery voice. “I’m going to go pack.” Crossing the room to Da, I brushed a kiss across his cheek and smiled at Declan. But for him I let the mask slip, and there was no joy behind it. Only terror.

It will be okay, Declan’s voice whispered across my mind. Somehow, it will be okay. I knew he meant well, but I couldn’t answer. Neither one of us believed that was true.

Da clapped a hand on Declan’s shoulder. “You’ll keep an eye on her in Deithe, yes?” Declan nodded. “The last thing we need is our girl getting handfasted on a whim. She has enough suitors clamoring for her as it is.” He winked at me.

“And she hasn’t accepted a one of them. Don’t worry, Da. I’ll look out for her.”

“See that you do,” Mama said, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand her thoughts. Declan would take care of me to the best of his ability, but we all knew once I made it to Deithe, I wasn’t coming back.

* * *



Alone in my room, I laid the belongings I planned to travel with on the bed. Enough clothing for a week, my favorite pendant to wear the night of the Choosing. I’d always meant to give it to Nessa for her Choosing as Mum had given it to me, but I knew Declan would make sure the necklace came back and stayed in the family. He was good at things like that.

Kneeling down, I lifted the light green bedspread and pulled three wooden boxes from beneath my bed. The first one held the healing supplies my apprenticeship required me to travel with. All the herbs were neatly bundled in their own cloth bags; chamomile, echinacea, feverfew, and ginger, among others. I had Fist of Brianne for depression, gingko leaf for breathing issues, and Valerian root to help me sleep. I’d never had to use any of it outside my lessons, but I’d carry it anyway.

All the women in my family, going back generations, were healers. Before the Clan Wars, nearly all the women in Nemeria were healers. It’s what our kingdom was known for. Even then, the MacNamera women Mum hailed from were revered healers. Now, there were only a handful of healers on this side of the province, and my mother was the only fully trained healer of the MacNamera line. She said that was why she pushed me so hard at my studies, but I suspected it had more to do with my gift than anything else. Maybe it was simply Mum’s way of keeping me close since my days were numbered. Either way, when it came to the healing craft, Mum was a tyrant.

The second box was smaller, thinner. It was made of wood with simple lines and a single brass clasp. Lifting the lid, I picked up the letters it held and fanned them out in my hands. I’d written one for each member of my family, as well as one for Callie, my closest friend in the village. Callie was seventeen this year, too. She and her cousin Ryan would be joining us on our journey to Deithe. Callie was excited for the festival this year. It was our first Lughnasadh away from home, and she’d been going on and on about it for weeks.

I couldn’t blame her. For Callie, the most dangerous thing about the Choosing would be kissing the wrong boy during the three-night celebration. She, like most girls on the aisle, would get to come home and tell her family all about it. When she did, Declan would have her letter from me. It was the only way I knew to say goodbye. Wiping a tear, I slipped the necklace from my mother in the box for safe keeping and closed my heart away.

Setting it aside, I opened the third box. Mum would kill me if she knew what was in that box. Taking the satchel of Datura powder from my pocket, I placed it with the others. Nestled inside the velvet lining were more bags just like it. However, these herbs and vials would never heal the sick. Gentle as a caress, I ran a finger over the cloth packages and glass vials, careful not to press in case the poisons seeped through. Wolfsbane, oleander, castor oil. I had at least two dozen concoctions hidden from prying eyes and knew how to use each and every one of them. I may not put as much effort into learning the healing craft as Mum would like since I wouldn’t live to see my eighteenth birthday, but when I visited Meryl each week, I paid rapt attention to those lessons. I had no intention of going down without a fight. If the Goddess wanted to take my life, I planned to take down as many of her devout followers as I could before I died.

I only hoped my family would forgive me.



Quiet and solitude greeted me the next morning. I dressed carefully, donning my flowing white dress, and pinning my hair away from my face. It was customary for the Daughters of Lugh to wear white to Deithe, though the gowns we would wear for the Choosing ceremony would be provided by the Temple.

Taking a breath, I ventured into the kitchen. The room hadn’t changed much since I was a child, but something about standing in the empty kitchen, staring at the plateful of meat pies in the cold box, without my mother telling me to save them for the road made me tear up. I would never stand in that spot again. Never hear my parents whispering and giggling like they were teenagers when their children weren’t looking, never argue with my brother over the last nutcake, or help Nessa sneak a cookie Mum pretended not to see. So many memories I would never get to make.

A door down the hall eased open, then closed, and soft footsteps echoed off the walls. Without a word, Declan walked into the room and pulled me into a hug. Minutes passed. Hours, maybe. Seconds. Before long, noises filled our small manor house as the rest of the family began to stir. Pulling away from him, I forced a smile. “Showtime,” I whispered. Declan squeezed my hand.

The morning meal was strained. We all put on a brave face, mostly for Nessa’s sake, but none of us could shake the melancholy. When we were through, Mum stood to clear the table, hugging my shoulders as she passed. Following her into the kitchen, I helped wash the dishes. There were no tearful goodbyes, but somewhere in the suds and water, our fingers found each other and neither of us wanted to let go.

The time was too short. Before I knew it, we were outside. Plastering a smile on my face, I said goodbye to the people I loved most in this world. Wrapping my arms around Nessa, I held her tight, breathing in the sweet smell of her curls, and brushed away a tear. When I finally pulled back, I had to struggle to regain my composure. Da’s hand came down on my shoulder, and he pulled Nessa away before taking me into his arms. I let my head fall against his chest. Here was where I belonged. Here, with my family, not as a sacrifice to an island that hardly believed its own lore anymore. I would do anything to come back one day, even if it meant proving I was part of the blasted prophecy.

Mama watched me with knowing eyes. She knew I intended to survive at all costs, but instead of seeing pity or worry in her eyes, I saw fierce pride. I felt, rather than heard, Mama’s emotion. Give them hell, my daughter. Take your place in the fate of the island. Swallowing hard, I nodded.

“It’s time.” Declan stepped up behind me. Wagon wheels crunched over gravel as the carriage came down the lane. With a quick grin, he hefted my trunk in one hand and waved hello to the driver with the other.

Despite the danger, I was excited. I wasn’t the only girl in Garman coming of age this year. In fact, there were half a dozen others who would be traveling with an escort to the Temple to stand before the Seer. But only Callie Mackenzie was making the trip with me. Leaning over the side of the carriage, Callie beamed at us. Her long, blond hair fell around her, whipping over her face as the driver drew the wagon to a stop. Her blue eyes lit with pleasure. “We’re going to the Temple!” she squealed.

Beside her, Ryan rolled his eyes. Then he turned that dazzling smile on me. Ryan was handsome, one of the most handsome boys in Garman. His green eyes were nearly turquoise and always promised mischief, while his dimpled cheeks and wavy auburn hair proclaimed his innocence. He and Declan had been friends since we were children, but as I got older, I’d begun to appreciate Ryan as more of a man than the boy I grew up with.

Stepping down from the carriage, Ryan wrapped an arm around me, drawing me close, before planting a kiss on my cheek in lieu of greeting. Were things to go differently at the Choosing and I were free to indulge a suitor and take a husband, Ryan Mackenzie would be front of the line. Everybody knew he had eyes for me, and for my part, I let him look. But as much as I liked him, I’d been careful not to make promises. No doubt he would come home and find a sweet girl to dote on, letting me become the love of his youth, nothing more than a memory.

It was better that way.

Taking the other end of the trunk from Declan, Ryan helped him load the last of our luggage into the back of the carriage and secured it while I climbed up next to Callie. She threaded her arm through mine, bubbling with excitement. “I can’t wait to see the Temple,” she exclaimed, launching into a list of things she wanted to do in Deithe. I let her talk, adding agreement or comment here and there, until the boys were situated in front of us, and the driver ready to go.

This was it. Leaning over, I blew a kiss to my family and pushed back the tears. This would be hard enough for them without having to see me cry. Waving goodbye, I took in my parent’s faces, my littler sister’s smile, trying to memorize every line, every curve, letting them see me excited and willing to serve the goddess I’d secretly grown to resent.

Declan reached for my hand, offering comfort. It poured from him, every ounce he could give mine for the taking. Grateful, I sipped only what I needed from the air. Sometimes, being an empath had its perks. With an almost imperceptible nod, I leaned back against the wooden seat as the carriage began to roll. I allowed myself to borrow Callie’s excitement, and we threw our hands in the air with a whoop of joy before dissolving into laughter that quickly turned to discussion of everything we would see in the Sacred City.

When we reached the bend that would take my childhood home out of sight, I granted myself one last look. My fate was set. When the carriage rounded the final bend, I didn’t look back.