William R Crosgrove

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

 

Edition 2.0

Copyright © 2018 William R. Crosgrove

Cover design

Copyright © 2016 Melanie Crosgrove, Darcydoll Art,

 

 

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. All rights reserved.

 

ISBN-10: 1537053728

ISBN-13: 978-1537053721

 

 

Celtic Shadow

​

Chapter 1

 

     Aed ducked as a thundering crash swept over him and cold, salty water rained down upon the boat. Darcy stood on the prow, arms still thrust high in the air. She turned just in time to see the massive flukes rise one last time before sliding beneath the waves. Aed, soaked to the skin, stood open-mouthed as he watched the great blue whale, tail high, plunge into the depths of the sea mere yards from the boat. Darcy laughed as Aed looked down at his sodden clothes.

     “Laugh, Darcy, but he is your god. You get to bail the water out of the boat.”

     Darcy stifled her smile and tried to look contrite. “Yes, Papa.” She watched the last remaining traces of surface disturbance melt away. “He came back for one last visit.”

     Aed, holding the rudder-oar and watching the sail, looked at the shoreline still miles away. “You are certain he likes us? There could not have been any misunderstanding about that? If he comes back a fourth time, we will be swimming to shore.” In his early to middle thirties, Aed was a large man, a blacksmith, his powerful muscles barely contained by his tunic.

     Darcy poised on the roof of a small shelter at the bow, steadying herself with one hand on the rising post that showed it to be a Celtic craft. Thin, tall for her 14 years, shoulder-length reddish-brown hair captured in a single loose braid, she kept her face in the wind, green eyes sweeping the coastline ahead.

     Scotland, and the town of Gretna, was just a day-and-a-half behind them. Darcy took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. It had been five years since her kidnapping by Irish raiders. She had served as a slave for two years before making her escape to Ellan Vannin and then to Scotland. Home was still hundreds of miles away on the small island of Albion, off the southern coast of Britannia.

     The late-summer sun blazed in a brilliant blue sky. Small, puffy, white clouds sped across the sky pushed by the same winds that drove the small sailboat down the western coast of Britannia. The sounds of the sail and rigging snapping in the wind beat regularly over the silence of the open ocean. Whitecaps lightly slapped the hull of the craft as it plowed the surface of Muir Éireann—the Irish Sea. Kiara, Darcy’s grandmother, would have called it Môr Iwerddon.

     Had Kiara given up hope? Kiara had adopted Darcy as her granddaughter after the death of Darcy’s mother, killed by Roman soldiers on the shores of Gaul. And Mavis had adopted Darcy as her daughter after her own infant son had died at the hands of those same soldiers. Now Mavis was dead, as well. So many dead, Darcy lamented. Does Kiara mourn my death, as well? I should have tried harder to get home. I should not have waited so long.

     Conflicting emotions washed over Darcy as she glanced back at Aed, the man she had adopted as her father. She loved him deeply. On Ellan Vannin, Aed had sat in his smithy, entranced as the twelve-year-old Darcy made arrows for a bow that was far too big for her. He gave up his life on the island to see that she got home. Darcy knew why he chose to do that—penance for his neglect of his younger sister some fifteen years earlier. She, too, had just wanted to go home, but he was busy with something so she left alone and died a terrible death at the hands of men. Still, to Darcy, this sacrifice on Aed’s part seemed to be more than she needed or deserved. She had been reluctant. It would slow her down. But he had put forth good arguments and she had agreed. She was glad she had, but it had cost her an extra year or more in Scotland.

     The shore loomed closer as the sun began its decline to the horizon. Ahead, a low, flat coastline was accented by a line of hills rising behind and an estuary where a river emptied into the sea. South of that lay a long, slender barrier island separated from the mainland by a narrow strait. A gentle landing on its sandy beach was their immediate goal.

     A collection of traditional Celtic round houses with their conical thatched crowns dotted the center of the island. They were of various sizes from small huts to large meeting halls. The buildings surrounded what appeared to be a large circle of trees. Druids, thought Darcy. She glanced at Aed who looked quizzically back.

     “Nothing to worry about,” she said. “We have been blessed by the leviathan god.”

     Aed wasn’t so sure. “Despite your evidence to the contrary, Darcy, you know I have never been a great believer in gods and spirits. I do not know what or who moves the sun, moon, and stars, or changes the seasons, or makes the wind blow, but I am sure that most of the world’s difficulties are brought on by people. You may not worry, being blessed by the gods themselves, but I remain suspicious of the mischief my own kind can cause.” Aed paused, then added, only half-joking, “Are you sure it was not just a big fish?”

     Glancing over the lightly rolling surface of the ocean behind them, Darcy searched for any sign of the great blue whale which had honored them with his presence. There was no sign of him, no swelling of the surface of the ocean, no flukes rising from the water, no telltale spout. But she could still see his great eye staring at her, communicating with her, relieving her soul of much of the burden gathered over the past few years. Then he had cleansed her with a towering spout of water.

     Darcy nodded, serious. “It was a god.”

     As they approached the shore, a crowd of 40 or 50 people gathered to receive them, clapping their hands together or jumping up and down in an excess of excitement and joy. Aed and Darcy looked at each other in puzzled amusement. Darcy dropped the sail and they coasted onto the beach. Many hands caught the prow and dragged the craft up the sand. More hands eagerly helped them to disembark. Individuals stepped forward and touched Darcy’s clothing, hair, hand, or arm and then quickly stepped away. Aed resisted his impulse to make them back off. Instead, he positioned himself behind Darcy with his hands on her shoulders and looked menacing. The crowd parted as an elderly woman, tall, slender, and white-haired, approached. She stopped in front of Darcy and, with a little difficulty, bent to one knee and kissed Darcy’s hand.

     “No! Mother, please. This is not right,” Darcy exclaimed, suddenly uneasy at the scene being made about her.

     “You are Darcy Morgan. It is right. We have heard your story. Welcome to Coeda. The gods smile upon you.”

     Darcy was startled. Hadn’t she just said the same thing to Aed? “Please, Mother, get up. I am not comfortable with this.”

     Aed reached down and lifted the woman to her feet.

     The woman turned to the crowd, laughing. “He is very strong.” She turned back and looked at Aed with more than a little twinkle in her eye and introduced herself as Dwerdna, ranking member of the local druid council.

     “How do you know about me, Mother?” asked Darcy. “I have never been here before.”

     The woman just smiled and patted Darcy’s shoulder. “Come,” she said. “Let us eat and talk. I am sure you are hungry.”

     Aed perked up at that. In response, his stomach gave a great growl and the crowd laughed. Red-faced, Aed pushed Darcy along toward the gathering circle.

     Across the narrow strait between the island and the mainland, Darcy could see the village proper and, beyond that, the tilled fields burgeoning with ripening wheat, oats, millet, and rye. An orchard heavy with fruit and a large field with thick, fibrous plants for weaving baskets and mats lay beyond the grain fields. A pig farm was located on the downwind edge of the village and a number of the smallish animals were contained within a fenced enclosure. On the grass-covered hills, herds of cattle and sheep roamed with the occasional attendant and his dog. Clearly, this was a prosperous, well-organized community.

     They entered the largest building and the crowd followed them in. Food and drink were brought and a fire was lit. The smoke rose and merged with the high thatched roof. There were perhaps 30 people in the room, all engaged in the business of eating and talking quietly. Every minute or two, one of them would rise and offer Darcy a small token of food. They would bow slightly, sometimes daring to reach out and touch her, before returning to their places. Darcy was bewildered by this attention.

     In the warmth of the room, Darcy pulled her deerskin top over her head, folded it, and set it next to her. There was much ado over her small tattoo, revealed on her left shoulder by her sleeveless tunic. It was a two inch diameter circle of cleverly interwoven, stylized thorns. As they sat and ate, Darcy told Dwerdna of their encounter out on the ocean.

     “Papa said he thought it was a leviathan from the legends,” Darcy told her. “But I think it was a god.”

     Dwerdna looked at her with awe, her eyes filling. “It was both, my blessed girl. You have met the Leviathan-of-the-Deep, the prince of the sea, and he is, indeed, a god.”

     The two talked further of the encounter and of all the adventures in her travels. As supper ended, Dwerdna announced that all should assemble outside in the druid circle.

     Darcy walked with Aed and Dwerdna into the grove of hardwood trees—oak, ash, birch, and others—which were, as she had thought, growing around a circle of cleared land. The center was large enough to accommodate the entire village and was filling fast. To one side, seven large stumps sat on the ground in a short arc. Dwerdna indicated Darcy should sit at the focus of the arc while she took the center stump. Three men and three women, all elderly, took the remaining stumps, sitting on them with their legs dangling down.

     Dwerdna invited Aed to take a place next to her stump but he declined, choosing to sit with Darcy instead. He did not see the flash of fire in Dwerdna’s eyes as he walked to the center. But Darcy did.

     She leaned into him as he sat next to her. “I think Dwerdna likes you.”

     “Or something,” replied Aed warily.

     Darcy smiled. She knew about sex. It was hard to live in a small village of one room houses and remain ignorant of it. She dug an elbow in Aed’s ribs and giggled. Aed said nothing, but he cast a quick, interested glance at the druid leader.

     Dwerdna, with the assistance of another young man, carefully stood up on her tree stump and called for attention. Silence fell over the grove. Dusk had grown deep. The sun had long set but it was summer and the sky remained light well into the evening. A waxing gibbous moon trailed the sun into the western horizon. Dwerdna asked Darcy to rise and face the crowd while she introduced her.

     She then recited Darcy’s story beginning with her kidnapping in Albion and ending with her arrival in their village. It was a long story and Dwerdna spent a great deal of energy emphasizing its supernatural aspects, each event tying in to some legendary figure or belief. The shepherd boy was a nymph, sent to hide her from the man on horseback. The man at the wharf was the ancient hero Lleu Llaw himself, helping her to escape. The bow was received from the hands of a dead warrior, his soul on its way to the otherworld, his need for vengeance unsated.

     Darcy winced as Dwerdna described her as being raised from the dead by the gods on Ellan Vannin. She was a warrior maiden of the ancient tales coming to the aide of the Celtic people in the north. And, finally, Dwerdna spoke of Darcy’s blessing that very day by the Leviathan-God-of-the-Deep, prince of the sea and son of the goddess Rhiannon.

     Dwerdna told a good story. Darcy was, herself, very nearly convinced. The following silence was slowly filled with a rising chant from the crowd. Darcy didn’t understand the words but she felt the power of the unified voices.

     “Look!” cried Dwerdna’s voice from behind Darcy.

     Darcy turned and looked at the woman whose face was turned up to the now-darkened sky. Sheets of vibrant green light hung in the air, undulating slowly. The northern lights. Darcy had seen them often, both on Ellan Vannin and in Scotland. She didn’t know what they were but Dwerdna was making the most of them.

     “The gods approve of her and crown her with Celtic green.”

     The other six wise, old heads bobbed up and down in agreement. Darcy frowned at the proclamation. With the leviathan it had just been the whale and them—nobody else. But couldn’t these mysterious green sheets of light be seen by people all across the land? Couldn’t they think, just as easily, that they were meant for them? And who were they for the previous night?

     Dwerdna meant well, Darcy was certain. Clearly, the woman was a strong druid leader, one who believed in handing down knowledge gained by her special place between the people and the gods. Like Bradán. But not. Despite the power of her position, she radiated great peace, sincerity, and goodness.

     Still, Darcy was irked. She preferred to discover religion for herself, find its signs and meanings, even its gods. How could people learn to find their religion if someone was always telling them where it was?

     “Darcy Morgan,” commanded Dwerdna.

     Darcy turned back to her.

     “Do you know your destiny, Darcy Morgan?”

     Aed’s head picked up at that and he looked around suspiciously.

     “No, Mother. I just want to go home.”

     “To Albion.”

     “Yes, to Albion.”

     “And you shall, Daughter. But a greater destiny awaits you. Your travels are not over. The gods have decreed that the time of the Celts has returned and you are their instrument.”

     Aed scrambled to his feet and put his arms protectively around Darcy. She turned in his arms and placed her hands on his massive chest. He shouted to the assembled council.

     “Do not put this on her. She is just a girl who wants to get back to her grandmother. I will not allow you to interfere with that.”

     Dwerdna replied, in a voice just loud enough to carry to Darcy and Aed. “She may be ‘just a girl,’ but she is a dangerous girl.”

     Both Darcy and Aed started at that. While sailing from Gretna, she had described herself to Aed using those same words. They glanced at each other questioningly and both shook their heads. Neither had mentioned those words to anyone.

     “And the Celts need such a girl. She is commanded to make a pilgrimage to Ynys Môn. The journey begins tomorrow. Already, ships of that sacred isle are arriving to receive her.”

     At this pronouncement, Darcy’s shoulders visibly slumped. Another delay. She leaned against Aed’s chest and shook her head. How dangerous could she be? She seemed to be drifting through the world at the whim of everyone and everything other than herself. She just wanted to go home. The world conspired to prevent her from doing so. And yet, why wasn’t she surprised by this sudden change in plans? It was as if she had known it was coming. Not specifically. But coming nonetheless. How?

     Oh, she thought, the Leviathan God. He had told her. Maybe. She wasn’t sure, but she thought so. It was hard to remember though it was only that morning. So much had passed between them while she had been entranced, staring deeply into the great eye.

     As the meeting ended, Dwerdna joined them.

     “So, when do we leave for this ‘sacred isle?’” asked Aed.

     Darcy glanced up at Aed, then looked away into the distance. She knew.

     “You do not,” replied Dwerdna. “Darcy leaves tomorrow.”

     “No,” declared the big man. “Not without me. She has been through too much already.”

     “It is not up to you, Aed. They will not allow you on their island. No outsiders.”

     “But she is …” started Aed.

     Darcy put her hand on Aed’s arm and he looked down at her. “I am going, Papa. I can feel it. There is something there for me.”

     Aed looked about helplessly. “Again? I have no voice in this? I am your father now, Darcy. You adopted me. Yet your life is out of my hands.” He looked from Darcy to Dwerdna. “How is this possible? Is she not an outsider? She has never been there before.” He looked unnecessarily to Darcy for confirmation.

     “She is not an outsider. She has the right to be there more than any other.”

     Darcy frowned at the words. They made no sense, but she knew Dwerdna wasn’t wrong. She wrapped her arms around Aed and hugged him tight. “Papa, if I do not come back here, just meet me in Londinium. I will find you there.”

     “Why would you not come back here?” he demanded, looking at Dwerdna.

     “I do not know, Papa. Maybe I will. But, if not, get Eala and Gwen and meet me there.”

     Aed shook his head miserably. Then he bent over and Darcy was swallowed up in his hug. The two walked back to the houses where she was given a place to sleep with a family in a small hut. The family all but fell over themselves trying to make the bedding arrangements and give her the proper adulation. There was a lot of touching, tugging, and light pinching.

     Darcy glanced at Aed standing in the doorway watching her while the preparations were made. She saw Dwerdna come up behind him and slip her arm through his and tug him away. Aed look back over his shoulder at Darcy who grinned and waved to him. She knew she would be gone by the time he awoke the next morning.

​

End of Chapter 1 of Celtic Shadow

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     Following a harrowing battle with a brutal assassin, Darcy Morgan escapes once more with the faithful Aed.  Join her, in Celtic Shadow, as she makes her way south through the Irish Sea to Ynys Mon, a Druid island off the coast of Wales, where she comes face-to-face with the legacy that awaits her. Darcy just wants to go home. Destiny has other plans.