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Prologue

"Tall, glimmering queen, come near, and let me see again the shadowy blossom of thy dim hair."

W.B. Yeats

The Celtic Twilight

May, AD 87:

Something unnatural stirred in the black-winged night.

The raven spread her wings, and flew as if a raging fire licked at her glistening tail feathers. She landed on a twisted oak in a forest of ancient trees and stone cairns. Voices of powerful spirits whispered to her, barely audible above the roar of the nearby river. What they told her quickened her heartbeat. She waited patiently, watching the river with sharp dark eyes.

Coated with a light mist, the river glowed silver in a moonless night. The shining mist wavered, parting like a doorway. On the mossy shore lay a woman, naked and shivering.

The raven hopped down from her perch, and changed into a woman with hair like fire and darkness. She reached beneath a tree and pulled out two cloaks of bright red. One she lay across her own naked shoulders, the other she gently placed on the unconscious woman.

"Welcome back, sister. Soon you will have your strength back." Smiling, she sat down, watching over her sister with sharp dark eyes.

PART I

Chapter One

AD 87, 21 December, The Mountains of Northern Caledonia:

A murder of crows flew into the air from a nearby tree in a sudden rush of feathers, causing a cacophony of fluttering wings.

Ambiorix froze. His soldier instinct warned him that something or someone had startled them. He grabbed the sword that he always kept near him, and turned around, gripping the smooth ivory handle with the confidence of a seasoned warrior.

Eerie silence filled the forest. The day had been dark and gray, the clouds filled with winter rain or snow. But as night closed in, the shadows deepened, crawling like creeping black vines across the forest floor. He saw nothing unusual and hurried back toward the cave to make sure Nemu was safe. Their cave home was built into the side of a hill and looked like a common mound of earth to anyone passing by. It was a safe place for them to hide from predators--animal or human. But his senses tingled that something was not as it should be.

"Nemu!" he shouted down into the dim cave. The strong smell of herbs wafted up from below. There was no reply so he hurried, stumbling down the steep stone steps, his heart racing.

She sat on the dirt floor clutching her rounded belly. Her lungs expanded, expelling harsh gasps and sweat lined her pain-filled face. "Th-the baby. It is coming!" A shrill cry rose from her lips.

His sword dropped with a thud onto the dirt floor. 'The gods be damned!' he thought. The baby could not come now. Ceri had not arrived yet to assist with the birthing. "The baby...the baby cannot come now," he stammered, rubbing his hands frantically through his hair.

"The...baby...is...coming!" Her green eyes took on the crazed stare of a forest beast.

"What do I do?" He tried to help her up onto the bed, but she pelted his arm with her small fists.

"Do not touch me!"

"Nemu, I have to touch you. How am I supposed to help you?"

She let out another shriek. Now he knew what had frightened the crows.

He had commanded soldiers on the battlefield, but he had never witnessed a woman giving birth before. Rubbing his hands frantically through his hair again, he tried to think of what to do, and then it hit him like a fiery arrow. He had helped mares give birth many times! He thought it must be similar to humans giving birth.

He gently lifted Nemu up into a crouching position, placing soft animal pelts beneath her. Then he grabbed a clay jar filled with water, and an old tunic, which he tore into thin strips.

Nemu was a healer and probably assisted in many births so he figured she knew what she was supposed to do. He would just help the baby out.

Her breathing quickened and she shrieked again. The shriek raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck. It was the sound of a beansidhe, the death scream, ear splitting and frightening. Ambiorix's brow furrowed with worry at the thought she might die. Many women died in childbirth, and Nemu was no longer immortal--she was vulnerable. His soldier instinct kicked in and he concentrated on delivering his baby.

He stayed by her side, wiping her brow with a cold cloth. She gripped his arm in a tight grip, her knuckles white. "You are strong, my sweet, you can do this," he murmured. Her answer was a loud scream.

After what seemed like the day had passed into night, a small dark head protruded from her nether regions. He was horrified and touched at the same time. He was helping to bring his own child into the world!

"Push again, my little white dove. I can see his head!" His heart filled with joy. The babe, covered in a coating of placenta, blood, and gore, slid out into the cold world. 'Just like a baby foal', he thought. With a sharp knife, he cut the umbilical cord. He took one of the cloth strips, dipped it into the fresh water, and wiped the gore off of the baby's nose and mouth. The babe sputtered and cried with amazing power.

Ambiorix wrapped the babe in animal furs, noticing the large male parts. Swelling with pride, he exclaimed, "What a set of lungs he has!"

Exhausted, Nemu perked her head up. "H-he? We have a boy?" Tears welled up inside her eyes, eyes that had changed from crazed to tender.

"Aye, my sweet, a boy." He gazed with loving eyes down at his son and at Nemu. Carefully, he laid the babe on her chest. He reached down, gently brushing her sweat-dampened hair from her face, and could not take his eyes off mother and son. He thought, 'I will take care of both of you, and I will never leave either of you.'

* * *

My eyes welled with tears of happiness as I held my babe for the first time. I moved over so Ambiorix could lie beside us on the bed. He stretched out facing us, wrapping his arm around me, snuggling against my body. I saw the light of joy brighten his eyes as he gazed down at our newborn babe, beaming with pride that I had given him a son. He touched the babe's tiny fingers and toes.

"He is perfect, Nemu," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

"I was fearful that he might be born with wings." I kissed the top of his tiny dark head.

The babe turned his head, fussing, and let out a hearty cry. I sensed he was hungry. Ambiorix helped me into a sitting position so I could feed him.

"Well, I see that he has a healthy appetite." Ambiorix grinned with delight.

Smiling, I gazed down at his dark full head of hair as he suckled at my breast. His skin was fair like mine and I wondered if the faery blood flowed through his veins. He favored me except for the eyes. His eyes were like Ambiorix's; a deep blue like the summer skies after the morning mist dissipates. Never had I felt such closeness with anyone. I vowed to protect my child no matter what.

I rested, filled with exhaustion beyond anything I could ever imagine. Giving birth was an emotional as well as physical ordeal.

Ambiorix tended to my needs and to the baby's needs. I watched him tenderly lift our child, cradling him in his strong arms. The baby looked so tiny in his arms. He swaddled the babe like an expert. His large calloused hands--warrior's hands that had held a sword and killed many men--now tenderly handled his newborn son. Happiness filled my heart. I never imagined I could feel so much joy and love.

If only the dreams would stop tormenting me.

* * *

Ambiorix left the cave to check his trap. He had made a box trap from wooden sticks using raspberry twigs as bait. When the prey took the bait tied to the strip of leather, which was fastened to an upright stick in the center of the propped up box, it would be trapped inside. He spotted the trap, noticing that it had been tripped. A large hare looked at him with somber eyes from between the slats of the fallen trap. He smiled, silently giving thanks to the gods for their generous gift. They would have a nice meal tonight.

As he walked back to the clearing with the limp hare, he looked around at his surroundings. He thought it was a beautiful place even in the gloomy winter haze, but not a place that could be farmed or had grazing land for cows and horses. Now that the baby was born, they would have to find a better place to live. They had discussed going further north, but Nemu was reluctant for some reason. She would not tell him why. When he mentioned moving north, her eyes had that faraway haunted look that told him she was keeping a secret from him. He was not pleased that she still kept secrets from him.

He busied himself with the messy part of hunting, skinning and gutting the animal. When he was finished, he scooped water from the pond into a large clay pot, and then rinsed off his bloody hands and arms. He splashed some water onto his face, running his hands across his wet face and into his shoulder-length hair. The cold water was always a shock to him, and a shiver tore through his body. He had been used to hot Roman baths, and living in the cold mountain forest was still new to him. But he would go anywhere to be with Nemu, the love of his life.

* * *

A few days later, I was able to climb to the outside. Fresh air hit me like a spray of ocean water. Sunlight filtered through the thick forest cover like golden beams, stairways to the land of the gods above. I hurried to the pond, eager to have a bath despite the winter chill and frost-covered earth. Months of bathing with a basin of water and a cloth left me yearning for my beloved pond.

The water reflected the green foliage around the pond, giving it a green tint that reminded me of sparkling emeralds. Ambiorix held our baby while I bathed. My nipples hardened from the freezing water. Despite the cold, the water was refreshing. I had missed my daily baths in the emerald pond. Staring down at my body, I noticed I had lost most of my baby weight, but now my breasts were large, and my hips were a little wider than before. I looked up at Ambiorix and saw desire in his eyes, but it was too soon for coupling.

"I have been thinking about a name for our son," I said, floating dreamily in the pond.

"We have never discussed a name, have we?" The babe cooed with contentment in his strong arms.

"No. I just thought of one. He has dark hair the color of raven feathers. I want to call him Bran."

Ambiorix gazed down at his son. "The name pleases me. It means raven and is a fitting name for a warrior."

"A warrior? What makes you think he will be a warrior?" I gave him one of my glaring looks.

"Did you want him to be a druid instead?" Ambiorix gazed down at the babe.

"I think he should choose his own path."

"No true son of mine would want to be a druid."

"He is my son as well, you silly beast," I teased. "He might choose that path." I left the comfort of the water and quickly pulled on my tunic dress. The cold air bothered me more now that I was mortal.

"We will see, my stubborn woman. I doubt he will want to study the droll life of a druid."

I gave him a sly look. "Is that how you think of me? As droll?"

"Of course not! But you are a woman. Men should be warriors, not healers and such."

"You can be so arrogant sometimes." I rolled my eyes at him and walked back to the cave.

What I did not tell him was that I had sensed the power inside of Bran. He had the eyes of power.

* * *

While the baby slept peacefully in his birch wood crib, Ambiorix and Nemu reclined on the soft bed filled with bracken. She lay her head against his chest and he stroked her long black hair.

Her hand moved under his tunic, rubbing his wide chest, venturing lower, tracing the line of hair below his belly button and beyond.

His cock hardened. He reached down, stopping her. "It is too soon for us to couple."

"I know, but there are other ways I can give you pleasure," she cooed into his ear.

Smiling, he released her hand and relaxed.

Untying his trousers, she grasped his cock and surprised him by lowering her mouth onto him, something she had never done before. Her soft lips moved up and down his shaft, her tongue darting around his most sensitive part. His whole body tingled as her skillful tongue caressed him. Fisting her hair, he thrust himself deeper.

She sucked and licked him until the waves of pleasure that tore throughout his body threatened to explode. Her mouth and hands were used on his body in ways he had never experienced before. "Don't stop," he groaned, his whole body quivering. Her eyes were closed and she made moaning sounds as she sucked him. Watching her move her mouth over him made him even more excited.

A loud groan escaped his lips. The skillful way she used her silken tongue was almost supernatural. His whole body twitched as shock waves of pleasure overcame him and he cried out her name, spilling his seed.

Nemu lay back, resting her head on his chest. "Did that please you?"

"Of course it pleased me. How could it not?" He looked down at her with an expression of awe. She was always full of surprises and that was one of the reasons he loved her so much. "By the gods, woman, where did you learn how to do that?"

"From farm animals."

"Very amusing." He gave her a hard look.

"Why are you so angry?"

"I am not."

But his eyes were green, the color of anger, and she knew he was lying. "Are you disappointed that I am not a virgin?"

"I guess it bothers me somewhat that you have lain with other men and a woman." He turned his face away from her. Rhonwyn was gone, but he still fumed at the thought of them together. Rhonwyn had saved his life, but she did not do it for him. She did it for Nemu.

"Look at me," she demanded. "What is it with men and their stubborn pride?" she muttered under her breath.

He shifted his gaze back to her, frowning.

"You think I have done what I just did to you with others. Is that why you are so angry?"

"Perhaps." He sulked, tying his trousers.

"Well, it is foolish of you to think I should be a virgin when I have lived a long time. I have not been with many men, unlike you, who have probably had dozens of women, and I have never done that to another man before. I wanted to pleasure you and I acted on instinct."

"Really?" His eyes softened to blue.

"Yes, you silly beast," she smiled with sincerity.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "You are the love of my life and though I have been with a few women, none hold a light to you. You are the moon while they were mere flickers of starlight." He reached down and gently turned her face upward. "Will you tell me what has been bothering you?"

"What do you mean?"

He felt her bristle. "I know you Nemu. Something has been bothering you. I can see it in your eyes."

"Oh. It is nothing. I did not want to trouble you."

"We are a family now even though we have not wed yet, but I plan to remedy that as soon as possible." He kissed her lips, savoring their sweetness, and pulled away staring into her eyes. "I want to make you my wife, Nemu. I love you more than I have ever loved another woman and I do not want you to think you cannot tell me your thoughts." Candlelight flickered in her green eyes like golden sunlight dancing on the surface of the pond.

She smiled, love filling her eyes. "I would be honored to be your wife," she said, lightly touching his cheek. Her eyes took on a faraway look. "I was having these strange dreams about my mother, but they have stopped since Bran was born. I do not know what they meant."

"Recurring dreams usually mean something, do they not? Mine certainly did." He remembered that the dreams he had about leading the Celts in battle were visions of the future.

"Usually. I think she was calling me, but I have no knowledge why."

"Your mother is a faery, is she not?"

"Yes. She went away when I was young, and my father warned me never to try to find her." Her eyes turned somber.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. The dreams have stopped so I will let it be for now."

"We need to decide where we will go. We cannot stay here. We need a larger home with land for grazing. And I fear the Roman legions are still searching for me."

She turned anxious eyes on him. "Do you think they will come this far again?"

"It is possible. They are very stubborn and may try to invade again. I think we should go further to the northwest." He studied her face, noticing the shift of her eyes. She was hiding something from him. "Nemu, what are you hiding from me?"

"My mother and her kind are in the far north somewhere under the northern sea."

He took her hand. "We do not have to go that far north. You worry too much, my pet." He kissed the tiny worry lines in the middle of her forehead.

She relaxed under his tender kiss. "I suppose I do worry too much sometimes. More so now that I am mortal." She gazed at him with admiration. "You are so courageous, my love. You are my sturdy rock that gives me strength."

"Nemu, you need to stop keeping secrets from me. Let me share in your concerns. Let me in." He held her close.

"I am still getting used to sharing my life with someone." She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I lived for nearly a thousand turns of a year, most of it alone here in this forest, but I promise to try harder to let you in."

"That is all I ask of you."

She nestled into the crook of his arm.

Bran started to cry, interrupting their discussion.

"He must be hungry." Nemu stood and walked over to the crib.

He admired her soft curves under the thin fabric of her tunic. He watched her lift Bran in her arms and cross the room to the leather chair. She cradled him in one arm and with the other, untied the front of her tunic to expose her milk-filled breast. His tiny mouth found her breast and eagerly feasted. Nemu sang to Bran a tender, haunting melody in a language Ambiorix did not recognize. He had forgotten how enchanting her voice was. He remembered back to when they had crossed the mountains together and she was still a faery. He had spied on her as she bathed in the pond, singing and making music with her wings. She had him under her spell then, and he was still spellbound by her beauty and mystery.

Pausing in her singing, she looked up, smiling with love for him.

"That was a beautiful song you were singing. What was it? It was in a strange language."

"My mother used to sing it to me. It was my favorite song. It is a song about a mother that loses her child and freezes the earth until her child is returned to her. She is so happy to have her child back that the land is bathed is sunlight and wild flowers, fruit and wheat grow in abundance."

She resumed her singing. Ambiorix watched with wonder at the bond between mother and child, an unbreakable, infinite bond.

* * *

The she-wolf was alone and starving. It was hard to hunt alone. She could only catch small creatures by herself. The other wolves would not accept her. They sensed that she was different, but she had no idea why she was different. She could not remember. She lifted her snout high in the air. The scent of meat was nearby. Food.

She saw the hare sitting alone in the meadow, unaware. Creeping quietly through the grass, she stopped when she was within striking distance, careful to stay upwind from her prey. The hare stayed still as stone. The she-wolf's hunger almost caused her to leap too soon. Patience. She had to be patient. The hare dropped his guard, moving forward to forage in the grass. This was the moment the she-wolf had been waiting for. Leaping high in the air, she pounced on the prey, sinking her sharp fangs into the soft flesh of the hare's neck. She would not go hungry tonight.

Chapter Two

AD 94, The territory of the Caitt (Cat People):

Colorful woodlands filled with oak, birch and aspen trees surrounded a rolling green pasture. Cattle grazed in the pasture, their tails swishing back and forth, swatting at pesky flies.

A fall breeze brushed through my braided hair, and with it a hint of the cold winter to come. Dazzling russet and gold leaves on the woodland trees danced in the gentle breeze.

Smiling, I watched Bran run through the pasture, trying to coax a reaction out of the lazy cattle. They watched him with curiosity, but resumed their grazing. He was almost seven winters old, and full of so much energy I could hardly keep up with him. Our goose followed behind Bran, honking at him for disturbing the cattle. Most people had dogs, but we had a goose. She gave us plenty of eggs, and she guarded the pastures, causing a great ruckus if any predators came near the cattle or our home.

Beyond the patch of woodlands, and high on a ridge to my right, stood the dark, brooding broch that belonged to Nechtan, chieftain of the Caitt. It loomed over the loch like a huge, menacing shadow. From where I stood I could only see the tip of the high stone building and the outer stone walls. It reeked of wealth among the noble class of the Caitt. Beyond Nechtan's broch were the dark pine forests and glens of the Caitt, which was home to wildcats, martens, and wild boar.

Across the wide loch rose mountains of majestic height. Their snow-capped peaks reflected in ripples on the dark waters. Beneath the snow-capped mountains lived the druids. A wisp of smoke from their hearth fire rose, swirling in the air. I watched the smoke with pensive eyes as I thought of my time as High Druid of the Caledonii. Though I was a mortal woman now, the spirit realm still lived inside of me.

"Bran, come here! It is time to eat!"

"Eat, eat, time to eat!" he shouted as he ran wildly through the cattle one last time and toward me with the goose nipping at his heels.

I smiled at his youthful mischief. "Now go to the stables and fetch your da."

He ran across the timber gangway that led to our island home, his small boots thudding on the wooden boards. Our home was on a large island out in the loch. To reach the pasture, we used a gangway that could be dropped in times of danger. The island was large enough for the main house, a storage room, a small herb garden, and stables for our two horses and a goat. It had once been the home of the mysterious priestess of the Caitt. No one else wanted to live where a powerful priestess had once lived, and there were rumors of an eich uisge living in the water nearby. People said they had heard the thunderous sound of its tail striking the water, and the lightning flashes as it disappeared into the water. The eich uisge was temperamental and had been known to drown people, but it could also be a gentle being. Tales of the creature did not frighten us, and I felt safe on the island under its protection.

Walking the gangway behind Bran, I breathed in fresh air that smelled faintly of fish. The main house sat behind a curtain of willow and oak trees on a carpet of rock and heather. A fluttering sound erupted behind me. Our goose followed me like an obedient dog, her head rustling my skirt. I shooed her away from the front door.

The house Ambiorix had built for us was in the Roman style, rectangular in shape and made of a stone base, timber walls and a thatch roof. Animal skins lay scattered around the floor and herbs scented the air, masking the smell of the fresh skinned animals. There were windows, but no glass. Wooden shutters were used to keep out the wind and rain. A roundhouse once stood where our house was, but the only part of it left was the central stone hearth. Ambiorix did not want to live in a dark, cramped roundhouse. He was used to living in comfort and had once lived in a grand villa in northern Britannia.

Sadness filled my heart when I thought of how I had ordered my warriors to burn down his villa. It was an act of desperation, but one I have always regretted. I did not foresee the death of his wife nor had I known she was with child. The act almost cost me Ambiorix's love.

My thoughts turned to the present and humming to myself, I went into the kitchen area and prepared the beef stew with herbs of marjoram and thyme taken from our gardens. The honey bread I baked smelled so enticing that my stomach protested in a loud rumble.

The stew simmered in a bronze kettle, which hung in the central stone hearth from a bronze chain. The stew was ready and Ambiorix and Bran had not appeared yet. It seemed to be taking them a long time to come to the house. Usually when I mentioned food, they appeared in an instant.

I walked out back in the direction of the stables, but they were not there so I walked past the stables to the compost ditch that was surrounded by willow, ash, and hazel. I found them standing at the compost ditch relieving themselves. Their backs were turned to me, but I heard Bran giggling as he crossed his stream with his father's. It was a child's game he liked to play. I smiled in wonder at their male bonding. Bran was too young to wear the trousers of a man, and still wore the knee length tunic, but instead of simply lifting the tunic in front he had taken it off.

Ambiorix heard me approaching and turned his head, grinning at me.

"The food is ready and growing cold."

Bran finished his business and ran toward me, forgetting his tunic.

"Young man, have you forgotten something? You will catch a chill," I scolded, pointing to his discarded tunic.

"But it itches me," he whined, his lips forming a pout.

I gave him a hard look and pointed to the tunic again.

He knew not to challenge me and retrieved his tunic, slipping it on haphazardly.

"Come Bran, we have to hurry and wash up or your mother will have us sleeping in the stable tonight." Ambiorix shot me a playful smile, and led him down the gentle sloped shoreline to the water.

I shook my head in wonder at them. Bran was a lot like his father, but I knew that the power was within him. For now, it slept.

* * *

Samhain cast its dark shadow on the land as the afternoon light faded. Ambiorix waited for Nemu and Bran so they could join the annual gathering of tribes near Nechtan's broch. The Samhain gathering was an important religious event, but also an important time for the chieftains to discuss important tribal affairs.

Something stirred the fall air. He could feel the change and a feeling of dread came over him. As a soldier who had killed many people at the druid stronghold on Mona and at the battle of Mons Graupius, Ambiorix always felt uneasy at Samhain when the veil was thin between the world of the living and the dead. Ghosts from his past threatened to haunt him for the killing he did in the name of Rome.

Ambiorix shivered as he looked around at the surrounding forests and mountains. The land of the Caitt was wild, its mist-filled hidden glens untouched by Roman hands, and the trampling boots of marching Roman legions. Here, the whispers of the ancients could be heard in the deep running waters, and the twisted oaks rustling in the gentle winds. Rock formations decorated with unknown symbols told stories of the long lost people who mysteriously vanished before the Celts arrived on the island. The Caitt were as mysterious as the land they lived in, hiding within the thick forests that covered the mountains and gorges within their territory. Their territory was the perfect place to hide from the Roman legions and begin a new life, but it was not so easy to forget his past and his life as a warrior.

He was grateful that the Caitt chieftain had welcomed him and Nemu, giving them a piece of land and a few cattle so they could start their own herds. Ambiorix wanted to stay out of their affairs and put his warrior days behind him, but if the chieftain asked something of him he could not turn him down. In exchange for the land and cattle, Ambiorix had offered his sword if the need arose.

Bran ran across the timber gangway. Nemu trailed behind him. The goose followed her, and Ambiorix watched with an amused smile as Nemu pointed her finger and scolded the goose. "You cannot come with me tonight. You will end up becoming someone's meal." The goose stretched her long neck out in defiance, but did as she was told and stopped following Nemu.

Ambiorix, Nemu and Bran crossed through the woodlands and made their way up the gentle green slope to Nechtan's broch where the gathering would take place.

Below the ominous looking broch were pastures and the farmlands of the tribe. The wheat fields had already been reaped and gathered for the coming winter, the headless stalks dying with the last of the summer light.

Settlements of roundhouses surrounded by ring ditches dotted the valley. The low hum of buzzing bees rumbled in the background. At the far end of the pasture in a small meadow sat rows of beehives made out of bark. Poppies and creeping thyme surrounded the beehives, which produced honey for food, medicine, and offerings to the gods. Wax produced by the honey was an important ingredient in the casting of metal and in making candles.

One large enclosed area housed the village blacksmith. Black smoke curled from the kiln where raw metal was heated to make weapons, jewelry, cooking utensils, wagon wheels and tools that sustained the village. Next to this was the leather tanner, and the large round vats used for tanning the leather.

Bran crunched his nose, looking up at Ambiorix. "It stinks here."

Smiling, Ambiorix patted Bran on the top of his head. "They use urine to tan the leather."

The acrid scent of the urine combined with the thick smoke of the blacksmith rose into the air, creating a menacing black cloud that was thankfully swept away on a sudden blustery fall breeze.

Children and dogs ran around the meadow while their parents talked and laughed with their neighbors. People greeted Ambiorix and Nemu with friendly smiles.

Ambiorix turned to Nemu. "Everyone looks happy. There must have been a good harvest this year." His own herds were expanding and there would be plentiful meat to last through the winter after Nechtan was given his tribute.

Clusters of oak and elm trees adorned the hillside, their leaves painted in autumn shades of russet, scarlet and gold. Children scrambled up and down the hillside, gathering acorns that lay scattered beneath the oak trees. Bran broke away from his parents to frolic with the other children.

A light mist began to form on the top of the water, trailing like long phantom serpents, floating in every direction.

Ambiorix gazed down at Nemu, admiring her in the deep afternoon light. She wore her long black hair in two thick plaits that touched the small of her back. The silver streak braided into her dark strands was a constant reminder of the powerful magic she wielded and what it had taken from her. Her bright purple and gold tunic dress stretched tight across her breasts and a silver chain belt circled her small waist. His gaze stopped at her breasts. Since giving birth to Bran, her breasts had retained their fullness.

She caught his gaze. "What are you looking at?" She flashed him a coquettish smile.

"We should find a dark corner tonight to celebrate the coming new year alone," he whispered in her ear.

"This is Samhain, not Beltaine. This is not the night to think of such things as coupling," she remarked.

Her eyes had that faraway look in them. On Samhain, the night of spirits, she usually withdrew from the earthly realm. He knew of the powers awakened on Samhain and he had his own strange experience in the past. He shuddered, remembering that night when a spectral old woman, at the standing stones near Luguvallium in northwest Britannia, had showed him the past before the Roman legions defeated the Celtic tribes. He had seen people with happiness in their eyes and it had cast doubt on his own allegiance to Rome.

He noticed that the cloud-filled sky changed, turning pink from the dying sun, setting the loch ablaze in an unearthly glow. The feasting would begin soon so they moved to take their places in the circle near the fire where low tables had been set out. Bran sat with the other small children near the back. Ambiorix and Nemu went to take their place near the back with the other farmers, but Nechtan waved them up to the front where the elite warrior classes sat. Ambiorix and Nemu exchanged perplexed looks, but accepted the chieftain's invitation to sit with the nobles above the block of salt.

Ambiorix glanced at the druids who sat near the warrior elite. He always felt uncomfortable in the presence of the mystifying druids.

He thought that these druids looked darker and more dangerous than the druids he had known from the Caledonii tribe of the Great Glen. He caught Nemu staring at the druids with a solemn look in her eyes. He knew she still missed that part of herself. Ambiorix reached over and held her hand, giving her a reassuring smile.

The smell of roasting pork made his mouth water. A fair maiden served honey mead in elegant silver cups. Ambiorix took a long drink, savoring the sweet honey flavor that was unlike any other he had ever tasted.

The uneasy feeling he had on Samhain rose up inside of him as he looked upon the people he had raised his sword against in the name of Rome. Though he had atoned for what he did by uniting the Celtic tribes, he still felt guilt for those he had killed. He tightened his grip on Nemu's hand.

She looked up at him, a knowing and comforting look in her eyes. "I understand," she whispered.

Ambiorix had first seen the fierce tribes of Caledonia from afar on the battlefield as a Roman cavalry commander, and later at the gathering of tribes. On the battlefield, the Caledonians were a frightening sight with their heavily tattooed skin, limed hair standing up like bull's horns, and ferocious war cries that sounded like snarling woodland demons. They had shown him respect when he had commanded the Celtic army, and they were not so frightening to him now. But he was in their territory, and it made him uneasy even though they had lived in their territory for three turns of a year. He glanced at Nemu. She seemed to feel at home with the Caitt. She was well respected by all the tribes and the Caitt revered her for her strong magic and healing powers.

More tribes had joined the gathering this Samhain. Some of the other tribes that had gathered were the Lugi or People of the Raven, the Epidii or Horse People, the Cornovii or Horned Ones, the Careni and the Smertae, or Smeared Ones. To the Romans, the Careni and the Smertae were known for being especially savage because they were known to smear the blood of their enemies all over their bodies, and drown them in vats filled with blood. They did not look so savage to him now as they sat drinking and laughing with the other tribes. Also present were the fierce Brannovices, the Raven Folk. Their chieftain was a female. She had auburn hair that flicked around her like licking flames, and eyes like the darkest loch. Ambiorix did not know her because the Brannovices lived further to the south.

He watched the mysterious auburn-haired warrior woman talking with Nechtan and Nechtan's druid, Aodh, in the shadows away from the gathering. Their conversation appeared to be a heated one, and Ambiorix quickly averted his eyes when he thought they all looked in his direction.

All the tribes had tattoos of blue entwining vines over their entire bodies, and tattoos of their totem animals. Even the women were tattooed, and many women were also skilled in the art of warfare. One of these warrior women caught his attention. Her small body was encased in a doeskin cloak lined with wildcat skins. Gormal caught him staring at her and flashed him a wicked smile. She looked ferocious with the tattoo of a cat's claw on her neck and tiny blue interlocking rings around her eyes.

They wore their tattoos like body armor, and it showed in their fighting for they were fearless in battle and other matters. Despite the tattoos, the Pictii, or Painted Ones, as the Roman soldiers sometimes called them, were very focused on their appearance. These tribes did not deserve the title of 'barbarian hordes' given to them by the Romans. They were clean and well dressed in brightly colored tunics and trousers, and their arms were adorned with gold, silver, or bronze armlets. The women wore brightly colored skirts or embroidered tunics. The nobles and warriors wore golden torcs around their necks. Ambiorix had on his finest tunic and pair of trousers, and he proudly wore the dragon torc that was given to him by the druids of the Caledonii tribe of the Great Glen.

Looking around the circle, he noticed some unfamiliar faces. They stared at him with open hostility. The food was served and Ambiorix turned his attention elsewhere.

* * *

Samhain always made me sad because I was reminded of those that I had lost and the wood-scented crisp air always brought tears to my eyes. I thought of my mother and father. My father had caught my mother, a water faery, in his fishing net, and they had fallen in love, but my mother could not stay with him. My father never told me why she had to leave and he warned me not to try to find her. I knew of a curse on the Ashrays, but the story had been lost to the ravages of time.

I thought of Cathbad, Arch Druid of the Carnutes, my teacher and for a short time, my lover. My heart still hurt when I thought of how I had betrayed him by failing to raise the dragon against the Roman army, resulting in the death of thousands of Celtic Gauls. Rhonwyn filled my heart for she was my one regret. Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of how much she had loved me, but I had been unable to return her love. And Aberth, my dear friend, and druid, who helped me redeem my past failure. I had finally succeeded in raising the dragon, stopping the Roman legions from conquering more lands.

But this Samhain eve made me uneasy and my senses were on high alert. I saw the heated look that passed between Ambiorix and the two strangers. Their accent was strange and I knew they were from the mysterious island called Eriu, named for an ancient Danaan queen. The two strangers looked like brothers. Both had the same curly black hair and chiseled features. They wore dark gray cloaks and tunics embroidered in red. In the gathering darkness, I saw their white battle shields and five-pointed spears lying next to them.

People talked and laughed all around me, but I was deep in thought. Roasted pork, venison, honey bread and bowls of wild cherries and raspberries were set out on the table. I was busy searching my belt for my bronze dagger with which to cut my pork and did not see what happened next. Ambiorix tensed up next to me and slowly stood. One of the strangers held onto the hindquarters of the pork, staring hard at Ambiorix. He was challenging him for the 'hero's portion' of the pork. Warriors used to fight to the death for it. I knew Ambiorix would have to fight. Cold fear struck my heart. Now I knew why Nechtan had invited us to sit with the warrior elite.

Black rage filled Ambiorix's eyes. I had only witnessed that look once before when he accused me of murdering his wife and unborn child. He looked deadly, but so did the warrior who challenged him.

Ambiorix still carried himself in the proud way of a warrior. He was in excellent shape, his body toned from all the hard work it takes to keep a farmstead running every day, and he still practiced fighting with his sword. The only signs of aging were small wrinkles around his eyes. The wrinkles made him even more handsome to me, and gave him the look of a seasoned warrior.

Nechtan stood and clapped his hands once to draw their attention. "This will be a fight without weapons," he commanded, his voice booming like a clap of thunder.

Silence descended on the gathering as the two warriors prepared to do battle over a piece of meat. Men were so foolish at times.

I had never seen Ambiorix fight, but I knew he had been a high-ranking soldier, and had killed many innocent people for Rome, which still wracked his heart with guilt. I only knew the part of him that was not the warrior, and the Ambiorix I saw now was a little frightening to behold. The muscles in his arms and neck bulged as he readied himself to fight. There was also something quite exciting about this side of Ambiorix that sent a pleasing chill through my lower belly.

Ambiorix stood taller than the other warrior, but the stranger was much younger, and had a dangerous look to him that I did not care for.

They circled each other, sizing each other up. Feigning a move to the left, Ambiorix tripped the stranger so that he fell flat on his back. Laughter arose from those gathered around the circle. As if guided by an otherworldly hand, the stranger leaped into the air and over Ambiorix. Gasps of surprise erupted around the circle. A shudder tore through me for this was no ordinary warrior, and I feared for Ambiorix's life.

The stranger, head down, lunged at Ambiorix, striking him in the midsection. Uttering a grunt, Ambiorix went down hard. They rolled around in the dirt, barely missing the bonfire. I cringed, but I could do nothing. Somehow Ambiorix was able to overpower the stranger and he straddled him, pounding him with his fists. The stranger threw him off and they were both standing once again. The stranger leaped high, but Ambiorix was ready for him. Ducking, he swung his arm up and punched the stranger in the face. The stranger landed with a loud thud. He lay sprawled out in the dirt, unconscious.

Cheers arose from the circle and Nechtan awarded Ambiorix the hero's portion. I glanced over and spotted Bran, staring in wonder at his father. Maybe he was destined to be a warrior after all, I lamented.

Nechtan barked an order and an attendant scurried over, pouring water on the unconscious stranger. He awoke sputtering and moaning, and crawled off into the darkness, defeated.

Once the feasting was over, servants cleared the food and made room for the Samhain dance. Drums beat out a hypnotic rhythm and rattles shook like musical bones. Half naked dancers covered in blue paint moved to the beat, casting unnatural shadows on the flame-lit ground. They looked like spirits of disconsolate souls, and my heart stirred as I thought again of those I had lost.

I took Ambiorix's hand, leading him down to the loch. Tearing off a piece of my under-tunic, I wiped the blood and dirt from his face. "I was frightened for you. He is no ordinary warrior."

He took me in his arms, kissing me. "You have no cause to worry. I can handle myself just fine."

"I noticed. The hero's portion was well-deserved."

"I have been waiting to get you alone all night, my sweet wife," he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver through my body. He smelled of wood smoke and raw maleness. His wild scent drove me mad with want. I pressed my body into his, and felt his hard male part. We had no time to ourselves with Bran around.

We were alone. Everyone was at the circle watching the Samhain dance. Watching him fight had raised a passionate fire inside of me, which needed quenching. Pulling him into the nearby bushes, I kissed him with my lips parted. His moustache brushed against my lips, tickling me. My tongue darted into his mouth in a passionate dance. He returned my passionate kiss and held me tight in his strong arms. His raw maleness and the image of him fighting like a skilled warrior sent quivers of desire to my sex. My body throbbed, screaming with anticipation and need. I yearned to feel his skillful hands caressing me in my secret places.

"Lie down. I will not have nettles up my arse," I commanded.

"I adore you even more when you take command." He winked at me, tearing his trousers off, and pulled me down on top of him.

With his finger he probed my sex, smiling with wicked pleasure when his finger easily slid into my wet folds.

"Watching you fight ignited my heat," I panted, eager to have him inside of me.

Grinning, he pulled his finger out and I plunged onto his heated shaft. A shudder tore through my body. Taking in his entire length, I leaned back, squeezing my thighs as if I rode astride an untamed steed.

"Ooh. It pleases me when you ride me." He pulled my tunic up and fondled my breasts, teasing my sensitive nipples. My nipples reacted by hardening to knife points, sending blissful shivers down my belly.

The cold air chilled me, but soon my body was consumed by a roaring inferno of unimaginable pleasure.

Our gentle movements changed into wild pent up passion, building to the faint beat of the drums. I leaned down, kissing him. He gripped my hips, pushing himself deeper. We claimed each other in a fiery, urgent kiss as our orgasms built and exploded. Our cries of pleasure mingled as one heated cry.

"I love you, Nemu," he whispered when we were spent.

With my hand, I gently brushed his long golden hair from his face, and I knew I would love no other as I loved him. "And I love you, my virile husband."

We dressed and rejoined the others at the circle. Ambiorix winked at me and reached over, pulling out a sprig that had tangled in my hair.

The first dance was over and it was time to choose the two lovers who would represent the god and goddess. Usually one of the druids would pick the lovers, but this Samhain was different.

The circle parted and the priestess of the Caitt appeared. She had more power than the druids. I looked on in anticipation for I had never seen the priestess. The fire rose higher and silence filled the circle. She appeared like an apparition, her robes billowing out behind her in the windless night, the skins of a wildcat draped around her. Accompanying her were nine maidens dressed in white robes the color of the moon, and of death. The daughters of the moon each bore a crescent moon tattoo on their brows. Something stirred within me as I gazed upon the maidens, but the feeling soon passed.

I could not see the priestess's feet, for she seemed to glide on the air. Her tawny hair was filled with gray and I knew she was older than she looked. Few people had ever seen her. She rarely left her perch high in the pines. She was one of the Ancient Ones, mother of the druids, and as her eyes searched in the darkness, she met my gaze. She had eyes of great power.

Without speaking she glided around the circle, searching for the sacred pair. Some backed away in fear for she was known as Grainne, 'she who inspires terror.' She pointed to the ones who would be lovers for the night, and without a word, disappeared into the shadows.

Ambiorix nudged me, gesturing toward the Samhain lovers. In the brilliant light cast by the bonfire, I recognized the young warrior from Eriu who had fought Ambiorix for the hero's portion. He had cleaned up and I could not see any traces of the fight on his face. The young girl was of the Caitt and the daughter of one of the priestess's maidens. She was said to have the Sight. I remembered her name was Sorcha.

Nechtan stood behind the Samhain couple. He was very young for a chieftain, but his skills as a warrior were legendary.

"Do you believe the stories that Nechtan killed his rival by shooting him with a flaming arrow and watching him burn to death?" I whispered to Ambiorix.

"Not only do I believe it to be true, but I have seen the hand, the only body part left of the unfortunate man. Nechtan keeps it in his kist and is happy to show it to anyone who asks." He leaned closer. "I would not want to fall out of favor with a man such as he."

His words caused me to shiver. "Was it really his uncle that he killed?" If he were willing to kill his uncle, he would have no qualms about killing anyone. I knew that these tribes claimed descent through their mother and kingship usually went to her brothers, nephews or cousins, not the sons. So maybe he had no other choice to take his rightful place as chieftain.

"Aye and that is the most sinister part of the story, but such is the way of these untamed tribes." Ambiorix wrapped his arms around me. "Do not think on such ghastly thoughts, my little white dove."

"I just wonder if we made the right decision to come here." Nechtan turned to stare at me as if he knew my thoughts. Firelight flickered over his face, revealing the blue interlocking rings tattooed around his eyes and a cat's claw tattoo adorning his neck, the totem of his tribe. The warriors had the 'eyes of the Sidhe' tattooed around their eyes and everyone in the tribe was marked with the cat's claw. These tribes believed they were descended from their totem animals, and it was forbidden to kill or eat the flesh of the totem animal except for certain ceremonies. This seemed true to me for Nechtan resembled an otherworldly cat beast with his tawny hair and feral pale green piercing eyes.

"Wipe the worry from your mind. I will protect you and Bran." Ambiorix leaned down and gave me a reassuring kiss on my cheek.

Despite his wicked nature, Nechtan was an ally to the Caledonii, and he had invited us into his tribe. Still, I could never trust a man like Nechtan. I watched as he turned his gaze on the Samhain couple. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes blazed with jealous anger.

I knew he was not pleased with the priestess's matchmaking. The fierce chieftain would not dare to offend the priestess whose powers rippled through the clearing, but I knew there to be another reason why he kept silent. The Caitt and other totem tribes had strict rules about marrying within their own tribe, and that was one sacred rule even Nechtan would not dare to break.

Nechtan's wife, Malamhin, watched him with angry eyes as she cradled their newborn babe. I was fortunate to have a man like Ambiorix who did not have a wandering eye.

The drums started beating a slow hypnotic beat, and the dancers walked to the center of the circle. Their faces and bodies were painted white like the moon goddess.

We took our places around the circle, waiting for the sacred ritual to begin.

A hush fell over the gathering as attendants escorted Sorcha from the small hut where she had been prepared for the ritual, bathed in a warm bath of sweet myrtle to calm her nerves. The young warrior was dressed in deerskins, and a mask with horns concealed part of his face. This represented Cernunnos, a warrior, and protector of the herds and flocks.

Darkness and light shifted as the dancers slowly circled the sacred couple. Cernunnos stalked and pounced on his prey, the virginal goddess, their bodies moving in rhythm to the beat. His magnificent naked body was painted blue and the maiden was painted with ochre, the blood of the moon goddess. They coupled, writhing like serpents, the white dancers bouncing and dipping to the quickening beat of the drums like spinning moons. The dancers closed in on the Samhain couple, forming an archway with their outstretched arms. The drums reached a crescendo, the dancers falling to their knees, shielding the blessed couple with their bodies.

The sacred Samhain ritual dance always moved me. Their joining would bring fertility to the land and plentiful herds when the dark nights of winter had ended. As if reading my thoughts, Ambiorix reached over, gently squeezing my hand.

My attention was diverted to the dark woods where the priestess had disappeared. I shuddered, watching the nine maidens who had accompanied the priestess, as they slithered off into the shadows. I wondered what other ancient dark rites would spill innocent blood on the night of the willow moon.

I thought I saw a blue light bouncing from tree to tree as if it were trying to attract my attention. Ambiorix was drinking and talking with the other warriors, and Bran was sitting with a group of children. I decided to follow the blue light.

The blue light bobbed from tree to tree and I soon found myself in the thick forest that surrounded the loch. An eerie full moon glowed red in the crisp fall sky. The further I ventured into the forest, the dimmer the moonlight and then it was swallowed up by the thick cover of oaks, beech, ash, and pine. The scent of pine needles filled the crisp air.

She waited for me in the deepest shadows. She gestured for me to sit beside her on a flat rock. "You are one of the Ancient Ones." Her voice sounded hollow, ringing through the pines and into the night.

"As are you." I searched her eyes for the truth, but she could mask her thoughts well. "Why have you sent for me?"

The head of the skinned wildcat sat on her head like a hood, the fangs flashing sharp and deadly like twin crescent moons. The priestess's eyes were the eyes of a cat, unblinking, and yellow in the darkness. "Do you know why you came to me?"

A nighthawk screeched nearby. "You know about my dreams." I looked away.

"Do not follow the raven. Follow the wolf. The wolf will show you the way." Her cryptic words were swallowed by the night.

"And I will know what the dreams mean?"

"You will know who you really are." Her eyes softened for a moment, gazing at me with what I thought to be pity.

I looked away for a moment and when I turned back to her, I found myself sitting alone, the space beside me cold and empty.

* * *

Something stirred her senses. She was compelled to go south. Fragments of memories rushed through the she-wolf's head. Whimpering, she lay down, resting her head on her large forepaws. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear the jumbled thoughts. They made no sense to her at all. But somewhere in the south, someone could help her. This she somehow knew. Just like she knew that tonight was a special night. Her heightened senses picked up subtle sounds of night creatures and something else...sounds that did not belong there.

She stalked through the forest, foraging for something to eat. Her hackles rose on her white back and she stopped; ears pulled back, fangs bared.

It stood just ahead of her, in the thick bushes lining the forest floor. A large black cat with long ears hissed at her, hunching its back. Dark green eyes glimmered in the darkness, watching her with dislike and something akin to fear.

The she-wolf searched her scattered memory, but could not remember what this being was. The strange cat did not belong here. That much she knew. And she knew she did not like this cat.

The she-wolf charged at the black cat. The cat, green eyes flashing, hissed and clawed at the she-wolf. The she-wolf howled in pain as the sharp long cat claws raked her sensitive nose. She bared her fangs, backing the cat into the bushes. The she-wolf turned and left, deciding that the cat was not worth the trouble. She continued her journey to the south.

* * *

He was unaware that I watched him. I did not want to disturb his work. Ambiorix was working with a horse that Nechtan had marked as 'not right in the head' and ordered the beast destroyed. Ambiorix offered to try and train it. Nechtan had laughed, giving the horse to him.

I admired how handsome he was. He shaved his cheeks, but kept a long mustache, the ends reaching his cheeks. His face was a golden brown from extended time spent outdoors and his body was all hard muscle. His deep but gentle voice, as he ran his hands along the horse's neck, almost lulled me into a trance. The horse that would not let anyone touch him was allowing Ambiorix to touch him. The wild eyes of the beast had changed to calm and trusting eyes. I was amazed at Ambiorix's talent with the beast. It was his brand of magic.

He had whispered gentle words in my ear, brushing my skin with his strong but tender hands. In a sense he had tamed me like he was taming the horse.

I turned to go, and must have made a sound because Ambiorix called my name. "Nemu, I did not know you were standing there."

"I did not want to disturb your work." I kept my distance from the horse. I did not have Ambiorix's magic touch with the beasts. My magic had been my voice that could enchant man or beast, but I had lost that magic when I performed the dark ritual of raising the dragon. "You have accomplished much with him. Nechtan will be pleased." I nodded toward the horse.

He sighed. "Nechtan will never be pleased with me. He is always challenging me."

"And you always pass his challenges. It frustrates him, but he does respect you." I smiled at him, admiration filling my heart. "I will leave you to your work. The evening meal will be ready soon."

He stared at me and love filled his eyes. "Have I ever told you what a good woman you are to me?"

"Why? Because I know how to cook?" I teased.

"That...and other things." He winked at me.

"Does that mean you want me to put Bran to bed early tonight?" I flirted with him, batting my eyelashes.

He flashed a playful grin at me. "You know me too well, woman."

"The sooner you finish, the sooner I can put Bran to bed."

"I am almost finished. He has had enough of me for one day." He motioned for me to approach him. Cupping my face in his hand, he gave me a fiery kiss. My sex throbbed with anticipation. Pulling away, he said, "There will be more of that later, my sweet." He turned his attention back to the horse, his soothing voice floating on the air.

I left the stable, my face flushed from his kiss.

A frigid breeze blew off the loch rustling the large oak tree near the stables, a hint of the coming winter. I thought I heard whispers fill the air, perhaps the spirits of the island. They followed me back to the house, benign and somewhat comforting.

* * *

Winter winds rolled off the loch, rattling the thatch roof. Ambiorix stood and made sure the shutters were closed tight. He glanced over at Nemu and Bran snuggled together before the blazing fire. They had been stuck inside for four days now because of freezing rain and winds.

It was not as luxurious as his old villa, the one that had burned to the ground, but it was cozy and warm inside. Sitting on his leather chair near the fire, he looked around, searching the ceiling for leaks in the thatch roof. He had built the rectangular house with wooden floors because he refused to live in a cramped, dark roundhouse with dirt floors. The stone hearth separated the kitchen area from the sitting area, and rooms were partitioned off with wickerwork screens in the back for sleeping. Missing were the beautiful mosaic floors of his old villa. Instead, sheep and cow skins were used as floor coverings. The faint scent of animal skins lingered in the air, but the herbs hanging in the kitchen rafters overpowered most of the unpleasant smells.

Ambiorix stood and paced around the room.

"What are you doing?" Nemu looked up at him. Bran still lay sleeping in her arms.

"I cannot stand being stuck inside any longer." He ran his hand through his hair, causing the ends to stick out like ruffled feathers.

"Put Bran to bed and we can talk."

He bent and took Bran from her arms. Bran was getting heavy, no longer a small babe. Ambiorix gently laid him down on his soft bed filled with heather, kissing his forehead. Bran never stirred.

Nemu waited for him, sitting on a pile of furs. She patted the space beside her. He sat down and she gestured for him to lay with his head in her lap.

"Let me help you relax." She glided her fingers through his hair and rubbed his temples.

He immediately relaxed under the touch of her magic healing hands.

"Now, tell me what is bothering you." Her voice soothed him like the sound of gentle flowing water.

"I do not like being cooped up for days on end."

"Ambiorix, you cannot deceive me. I know you too well." She bent down, kissing his forehead, her long hair unbound and touching his neck. He smelled lavender and chamomile in her hair along with spring flowers. Her hair had a distinctive scent that drove him wild with arousal. It reminded him of when they first met.

"I am not sure that a cattle farmer's life is for me. At least when I ran the remount depot in Britannia, I was still involved with the military, and I knew my place as a Roman officer. I am not so sure of myself here. Sometimes I miss a soldier's life." He touched her free hand, glancing up to see her reaction.

She paused in rubbing his forehead, looking away. "I knew you would not be content to live this kind of life." She looked down at him with sad green eyes. "I saw the look of joy on your face when you defeated the warrior on Samhain. I know you put down your sword to protect us, but could the Roman legions truly find us here?"

"Rome has spies everywhere, possibly even embedded in the tribes. As a cattle farmer, I will not draw attention to myself. And that keeps you and Bran safe."

She smiled, but her eyes looked worried.

He sat up, pulling her close to him. "Nemu, I will not leave you and Bran. I promise. My sullen nature will pass when the weather clears." She stiffened in his arms. "Nemu?"

"The truth is I have been feeling restless myself. I thought I could live in contentment as wife and mother, but...I still have one foot in the spirit realm." She rested her head on his wide shoulder. "Sometimes I stare across the loch to where the druids live, and wonder..."

"You miss the life of a druid?"

"Sometimes, yes, but I would not give up what I have now for that life again." She tilted her head up towards him, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Have you been having the dreams again?"

"No, but at Samhain the priestess spoke to me." She rested her head on his shoulder again.

"What did she say?"

"Her words did not make any sense to me, but she said I would find out who I really am."

"Who you really are? Why would she say that?"

"I am not sure. Her words made no sense to me, but my heart is filled with worry."

He pulled her tighter to his chest, his heart beating with a sense of foreboding. What did it all mean?

* * *

The raven hopped down from her perch on the window ledge. She had overheard them talking through a small crack in the shutters.

The black cat sat waiting for her in the shelter of nearby bushes. Rain battered the top of the thick cover. "Are you sure she is the one we are searching for?" She thought the words, sending them to the raven. The cat's eyes glittered like green fire.

"She looks a little older, her body softer and wingless, and her eyes not so hard. But from what information I have gathered, I am positive she is the one. From what I just overheard, she does not remember who she is." The raven ruffled her glistening wings that were drenched with rain.

"I want her to remember who she is just before..." The cat burrowed further into the bushes as the wind shrieked off the loch. "But we cannot harm her here. She is protected by the charms of an ancient being. You need to lure her somewhere else where the lines of magic run through the earth, a place where I can harness the powers."

"I have already taken care of that." The raven's dark eyes twinkled with cunning.

"Then we need not wait any longer." The cat stretched, hunching her back, her shell choker tinkling like silver bells.

"I will make it so." Heedless of the storm, the raven spread her wings, and headed north to her own realm to work the necessary magic.

* * *

I watched Ambiorix and Bran at play with their wooden practice swords. Bran barely came to Ambiorix's waist, but he was fearless as he charged at his father. We had not spoken any more about the priestess's strange words since that cold winter night.

"Bran, you must not leave your left side so wide open," Ambiorix scolded. "Here, watch how I position my body." He showed his son how to slightly turn his body so as not to leave himself open to his opponent's thrust. "Now, do it again like I just showed you."

Bran charged at him.

Ambiorix rapped him on the shoulder with the end of the dull but hard wood sword. "You just lost your arm, son."

Bran started wailing.

"Ambiorix, must you be so hard on him? He is just a child." I went toward Bran and he ran to me, clutching my woolen skirt in his little hands.

"You are turning him into a coward, Nemu." Ambiorix ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head, frowning.

I could tell he was frustrated. "He is too young to be learning the art of war." I gave him a glaring look.

"I was a year younger than him when I started learning how to wield a sword." He gave me a hard look. "I think it is time to talk about fostering him out so he can grow up to be a man. As long as he can hide in your skirts, he will not grow up and this world is very cruel towards cowards."

I gazed down at my son. His dark head was buried in my skirt. "Perhaps you speak true." I had been putting the discussion off because I had not seen any signs that Bran had what it takes for druid training, but I could not put it off any longer. "Bran, please go up to the house and fetch my cloak."

He looked up at me with tearstains and dirt on his cheeks--so innocent it broke my heart to send him away, but I knew it was for his own good.

Bran nodded and ran toward the house.

"I know this is difficult. I don't want to send him away, but this is the way of the Celts and the Romans. I was sent away to school in Rome." He walked over to me and put his arms around me.

I knew that Nechtan's older children lived with different members of their tribe to cement the bonds within the tribe. "Where should we send him?" I pulled him over to sit on a fallen log beneath a stand of ash trees. The spring air rippled with fresh blooming flowers along with farmyard smells of hay and manure.

"I thought about sending him to Cavarinus since you and I have no relations in any of the tribes."

I remembered that Cavarinus was the Brigante noble friend of Ambiorix's, the father of the girl Ambiorix almost wed.

"I think that is the best choice. We can leave in a few days to take him there. We can find someone to care for the animals while we are gone."

"I will have Dearbhail tend to the animals while we are away." Dearbhail was Nechtan's niece and my apprentice to the healing arts.

Bran ran towards us, my cloak billowing out behind him like wings. "Look, I am a bird." He giggled and plopped down between us, the altercation with his father already forgotten.

Ambiorix and I gazed at each other with solemn eyes. Now we had to explain it to Bran, who amused himself with my cloak, unaware of his future.

How I wished to have the carefree mind of a child again, to not feel the weight of the world upon my shoulders. I feared for a future without Bran because I knew the dreams would return when he was gone, and I thought of the strange, foreboding words of the priestess.

* * *

Ambiorix admired the early morning scenery and how the newborn sunlight played on the mountains and loch. Snow-capped mountains filled the sky in the south, but the weather in the valley had turned warm and balmy with the arrival of spring. Rain was common in the west highlands, which made the hills such a rich shade of green. An early morning chill filled the air, and mist clung to the loch and the nearby forest, glistening like starlight.

As he tended to the animals in the stable, he heard the galloping sound of horses in the pasture. The goose honked a warning that someone approached. Ambiorix jogged to the front of the house. Breaking out of the woodlands were six cloaked riders. They carried spears, bows, and arrow quivers. He recognized the two warriors that Nemu said were from Eriu, the island known to the Romans as Hibernia. Nechtan rode with them. Gormal and Nechtan's brothers, Ciniod and Taraghlan, were also there. Ciniod and Taraghlan looked nothing like Nechtan who resembled a wildcat with his tawny hair and pale green eyes. They had swarthy skin with dark hair and eyes like a raven.

Nechtan signaled to the other riders and broke away to greet Ambiorix.

Ambiorix walked to the end of the gangway. The goose stood next to him with her neck stretched out in a threatening manner. He wondered if they were going to raid cattle from their neighbors, the Lugi. They were on friendly terms, but still raided each other's cattle on occasion. It was the only way for the warriors to have some fun.

"The weather is perfect for hunting. Will you ride with us?" There was a glimmer of mischief in the chieftain's eyes. Hunting was a main part of the life of an elite warrior. Warriors were exempt from menial duties such as farming, and spent their time hunting, raiding cattle, and working on their fighting skills.

The young chieftain had many battle scars on his face and chest that blended in with his dark tattoos. Ambiorix noticed that he had the small leather pouch on his belt that was believed to hold the fingers of his enemies. The bag was nearly full.

"I was just thinking to myself that today is the perfect day for a hunt, but I have cattle to tend to."

Nechtan smiled. "I have already sent for one of Torgal's sons to tend to your cattle."

Ambiorix's heart thudded with anticipation. Hunting did sound much better than tending the cattle. "Then I accept your offer to go hunting."

Ambiorix went to the stables and saddled his horse. He had to go into the house to gather his weapons.

Nemu stared at him with a puzzled look on her face.

"I am going hunting with Nechtan. One of Torgal's sons will be by to tend to the cattle."

"Will you take me hunting?" Bran appeared from the other room.

"Not today Bran." He turned to Nemu. "I do not know when I will be back." He pulled his brightly colored wool tunic off and foraged in the large kist for his pigskin tunic. The supple pigskin caressed his skin and would help him blend into the woodlands.

"Be careful, husband." She handed him a skin filled with wine that Cavarinus had given them, and a bag filled with hazel nuts and raspberries.

"Thank you, my sweet." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Wrapping his cloak around his shoulders, he vaulted onto his horse.

The six riders waited for him at the edge of the forest. The two strangers nodded at him, the one he had beat in the fight gave him a friendly stare. Nechtan led the way through the forest, which was dark even in the daylight. Ancient oak trees with huge twisted trunks filled the forest. A hawk shrieked from far above.

They had traveled for most of the day, and Ambiorix wondered why they had to go so far to hunt, but he kept quiet. He also thought it strange that Nechtan's two hunting hounds were not accompanying the hunting party.

"Maybe we will see the Cait Sith today," Gormal remarked, shooting a glance at Ambiorix. Her deep blue eyes were filled with mirth. She reminded him of Rhonwyn, the one female who had always challenged him.

"You'd best plead to the gods we do not run into the Cait Sith today. Now keep quiet. We are almost there." Nechtan glared at Gormal.

Gormal returned his glare, but kept silent. Taraghlan shot Nechtan a warning look, but Nechtan ignored them both.

Ambiorix thought her to be brave or impudent to challenge such a man as Nechtan, but she had a dangerous look about her with her wild hair and tattooed body. Maybe Nechtan was not the only warrior to be feared among the Caitt. Gormal was called 'little cat with the sharp claws' and Ambiorix had witnessed her skill with a bow.

Though the Romans saw them as savages, Ambiorix knew they were highly intelligent and not to be underestimated, especially a man such as Nechtan. Their only weakness, albeit a strong one, was that they fought too much amongst themselves and their neighboring clans. If Rome should decide to send a multitude of legions into their territory, the Caitt and other tribes would be crushed beneath her invincible heel.

They rode toward the west where the forest thinned out. The warriors were silent and alert. The only sounds were the plodding of the horses, and the occasional songbird.

"We stop here." Nechtan dismounted and motioned for them to follow him. They left the horses and made their way on what Ambiorix thought was a ridge. Nechtan motioned for them to be quiet.

Staying hidden in the bushes, Nechtan crept out to the edge of the cliff. He signaled the others to follow.

Ambiorix crept to the edge and his heart almost stopped when he looked down. He stared down at a sandy cove and deep blue water. His eyes were drawn to the two long, narrow Roman warships anchored in the bay, and the leather tents lined up in perfect rows on the beach. He ducked back into the bushes.

Gormal muffled laughter into her cloak.

"You said we were going hunting." Ambiorix spoke in a harsh whisper so the Roman sentries would not hear him.

"We are," Nechtan answered with a wicked gleam in his eye. "I never said what we were hunting for."

The other five warriors muffled their laughter.

"You are not afraid, are you?" The warrior he had fought challenged him.

Ambiorix gave them all a hard look.

He knew Nechtan was challenging him again.

"We will make camp and wait until dark," Nechtan ordered.

Ambiorix glanced at Nechtan's leather pouch and shivered.

They could not build a fire so Ambiorix was glad he had taken the pouch of food Nemu had offered him. He passed the wine around to the other men and Gormal.

"This is Falernian wine," the warrior from Eriu commented, impressed with the fine quality.

"What do they call you?" Ambiorix never had learned his name.

"I am Conall and this is my brother, Caoilte. Do not mind my brother, he is a man of few words."

"And ye say enough for the both of us." Caoilte smirked.

"I am called Ambiorix." He reached over to offer them the wine again. His tunic sleeve moved up his right arm, revealing the large blue dragon tattoo that wound up and around his forearm.

"Ye wear the mark of the dragon--like us." Conall and Caoilte rolled up their sleeves to show Ambiorix. "That is why I wanted to fight ye on Samhain. Ye fight very well."

Ambiorix nodded. "As do you."

They laughed and talked until the sun began to set.

"It is time." Nechtan stood and grabbed his weapons.

"What is our plan?" Ambiorix asked.

"Our plan? You are going to go down there alone and steal something off of a Roman soldier."

Ambiorix did not like this challenge of Nechtan's.

"We will see if you truly are the legendary Ravenwolf and not a mere cattle farmer." Gormal's eyes twinkled in the fading light. Taraghlan stood possessively near Gormal, his dark eyes focused on Ambiorix.

Ambiorix cursed to himself. He would always have to live up to that accursed name.

"I will watch your back," Conall said, sounding sincere.

Shoving past Nechtan, Ambiorix took the lead. He crept to the edge of the cliff and studied the marching camp below. It was set up like all the other marching camps. There were four entrances with guards posted at each entrance. Most of the soldiers were in the center of the camp eating their evening meal. The smell of roasted pork wafted up the cliff-face.

Ambiorix glanced at the night sky, noting the crescent moon. Large clouds scurried toward it like a massive fleet of ships. Forming his plan, he waited for the clouds to cover the moon.

When the clouds hid the moon in darkness, he made his way down the ridge. He moved slow, quiet as a spirit on the wind. He felt the presence of the other warriors on his tail. Gormal, silent as a shadow, climbed up a wind-swept oak tree with her bow in one hand and her quivers slung across her shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, he clutched his spear and moved toward the guard. Ambiorix took him from behind, squeezing the breath from him with his spear pressed flat against the guard's throat. The guard slumped against him, unconscious. Ambiorix tried to pull the legionary ring from his finger, but it was stuck.

"Gods be damned," he muttered.

Swoosh. Something whizzed past his head, barely missing him.

He looked up to see an arrow sticking in the throat of a Roman soldier who stood only two arm lengths away from him. Without a sound, the soldier slid to the ground, dead.

Ambiorix rushed forward and pulled the legionary ring off the fallen soldier's finger. This one easily slid off. He turned, fleeing to the safety of the ridge.

"I told ye I would watch your back." Conall grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the top.

"Excellent shot. You saved my life."

They ran for their horses and raced away into the safety of the thick forest. Off in the distance they heard the Roman battle horns blow like heralds from the Otherworld.

When they were at a safe distance, they hooted and hollered, stirring the night creatures. A raven cawed loudly as if scolding them for their rousing behavior.

It was too dark to travel all the way back home so they camped for the night. The wine was passed around from warrior to warrior and Ambiorix showed off his prize. Nechtan and the others looked at him with newfound respect.

The night had turned a bitter cold. He wished he were snuggled in his warm bed with Nemu. Ambiorix lay back, wrapping his cloak around him. Before he dozed off he saw a raven sitting on an outstretched branch. He thought he heard it whisper his name, but shrugged it off, blaming the wine spirits.

* * *

The day before we were to leave for the Caledonii hillfort near the Great Glen, I was blessed with the answer I had been waiting for.

The spring air stirred with the buzzing of honeybees and birdsong. The shaggy highland cattle even seemed to be enjoying the spring day, mooing with contentment in the green meadow. I waited for Bran to finish helping Ambiorix with the animals.

Sitting in the meadow, I thought back to when Ambiorix had returned from his 'hunt.' I was angry with him at first when he told me about his dangerous game. But he had such happiness in his eyes that I kept quiet. The restlessness in him had eased since that night. What bothered me most was why were the Roman legions camped in the cove only a day's journey from our home? And who were these warriors from Eriu with the mark of the blue dragon?

Bran joined me in the meadow. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him before we left. I pointed out different birds to him and told him their names. A large raven sat on an outstretched branch watching us with its piercing dark eyes. I pointed to the raven, "Bran."

Bran giggled. "That is my name!"

"Yes, it is. You were named after this bird because of your black hair. It matches the color of its feathers."

Something dark shifted behind his eyes, and he stared up at the raven. "She says that the wolf is coming." Then Bran's eyes lost the darkness behind them and once more returned to normal as he looked up at me, smiling with innocence.

I nearly fell over in shock. I should have been thrilled that he had shown promise as drui. He had the gift of prophecy, a coveted gift. His words could have had many meanings, but my thoughts turned back to the priestess, and a wintry hand gripped my heart.

Chapter Three

The Great Glen, AD 95:

Thrushes sang a heartfelt song, welcoming the new day.

"The day is perfect for traveling. We are blessed by the gods," Nemu mused, pointing toward the meadow. "The early morning dew covering the meadow sparkles like silver stars."

Ambiorix paused beside her. "Nectar from the gods is a good portend."

While they finished packing, Ambiorix's stallion nipped playfully at Nemu's brown mare. Bran ran around, excited about the trip to the Great Glen.

"Bran, come here! It is time to leave," Ambiorix said, growing impatient with the boy.

Nemu gave Ambiorix one of her 'he is only a child' looks, which he ignored.

"Well, I think everything is packed." Nemu climbed up onto her mare. She rode one of the small highland ponies while Ambiorix rode a taller Numidian horse that had longer legs, but could maneuver through the rough terrain of the Highlands. Bran sat in front of Ambiorix in the saddle.

It would be a three-day journey to the Great Glen.

They rode along the loch. Mist clung to the water and mountains in an otherworldly glow. Ambiorix watched a majestic eagle fly down from the mountains and soar over the loch, its sharp eyes searching for fish.

It was spring, but as soon as they ascended the mountain range in the south, the air took on a bitter chill and cloaks were pulled tight and hoods up. They passed through heavy stands of pines that led to the deep gorge with a waterfall that plunged into a deep abyss. The horses were guided a safe distance along the deep gorge. Glimpses of strange mosses and ferns grew from the craggy, steep sides of the chasm and the air felt balmy, tropical. The waterfall roared like thunder as they passed by.

They entered into a thick pine forest filled with sparrows, finches, and roe deer. The ascension into the mountains gradually gave way to sparse forests near the plateau. Barren green and brown land ascended to hills covered in purple heather. A steep stony path slowed the horses down, and they were forced to stop to rest near a tree-lined loch on the other side of the mountains.

Bran jumped down from Ambiorix's arms, running and jumping like a young foal.

"Do not wander off," Nemu warned.

"He has been squirming around since we ascended the mountains. Maybe he could ride with you for awhile."

"I have to go! Da, I have to go!" Bran squirmed around.

Nemu smiled, shaking her head. "He is your son."

Ambiorix and Bran disappeared behind a stand of ash trees.

When they returned, Nemu was spreading out a woolen blanket and setting out the dried meat and hazel nuts. She sat staring at the loch, a look of melancholy on her face.

Ambiorix sat next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. "You look sad, Nemu."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I was just thinking about my old home in the mountains. I did not realize how much I missed it until now."

"I miss it sometimes too. It was our little piece of paradise."

"Where is Bran?" Nemu turned her head to see if he was behind them.

"He is...Bran!" Bran was not where Ambiorix had left him.

"I see him over there by the loch." Nemu pointed toward him.

Bran was bending down, picking up something red growing in the marshland surrounded by small leafed green plants.

"Bran, no! Those are poisonous!" Nemu ran to him.

It was too late. He had already put them in his mouth.

* * *

She had been following them for some time now, staying hidden in the trees. There was something familiar about the dark-haired woman, but she could not remember what it was. Being trapped in this body had made her forget a lot of things. Like who she was. She could not even remember her own name. The woman fascinated her so she kept following them, careful to stay upwind of the horses so they would not be spooked by her presence. She sensed that this woman might be the one who would be able to help her.

Certain memories would pop up out of nowhere, frightening her. She knew she had not always been a wolf. Many jumbled images rushed through her mind. Blue green waters, white sand, rolling green hills and stones of power flashed before her. And she remembered great pain and then darkness.

She saw the boy put something red in his mouth. She thought she remembered that they were mushrooms and red with white spots meant they were poisonous. The dark-haired woman was too far away to help him, but she was not. Leaping from her hiding place in the bushes, she knocked the boy to the ground with such force that the poisonous mushrooms spilled from his mouth.

She stood over the stunned boy, and did not see the man with the spear until it was too late.

* * *

I reached Bran just as Ambiorix's spear hit the she-wolf in the hindquarters. The wolf leapt at the last second and was spared a gruesome wound, but she yipped and crawled into the bushes, bleeding. The spear lay on the ground, red with the she-wolf's blood.

Bran sat up, stunned from the wolf's charge, but he was unhurt. The poisonous mushrooms lay scattered on the ground. To be sure, I ran with Bran in my arms to the loch and rinsed his mouth with water.

He sputtered and shook his head, struggling in my arms.

"Bran, what were you doing? I taught you about the mushrooms, remember?" I scolded him, my limbs shaking from almost losing him.

He had a confused look on his face.

I held him in a tight embrace, my body still shaking. "Do not ever frighten me again like that."

Ambiorix appeared next to us. "Is he unharmed?"

"Yes. He did not swallow the mushrooms." I looked around. "Where is the wolf?"

"I don't know, but I will find it and kill it. It attacked Bran."

"No. The wolf did not attack him. The wolf saved his life." I remembered the words of the priestess.

He looked at me with a look of dismay on his face.

"The priestess mentioned a wolf to me." I peeked into the bushes, but did not see the wolf. I noticed tiny droplets of blood on the green foliage, bright red in the sunlight. The wolf would survive its wound.

"Well, I am not allowing a wolf to come near you or Bran until we know more about it."

"Very well. Just please do not go hunting for it." I looked at the spot where the mushrooms had been. Something was wrong. "Those mushrooms were not there when we first arrived."

"What?"

"They were not there!" Anger rose inside of me at the thought of someone trying to harm Bran.

"Who do you think placed them there?" Ambiorix touched my arm, attempting to calm me.

"I wish I knew, but I will find out."

I looked again at the spot and I was sure that they were not there before. I would remember something like that. But what otherworldly, malevolent hand had placed them there? This thought stayed with me as we continued our journey to the Great Glen.

* * *

The huge hillfort came into view, spread like a great brown dragon sitting coiled on a mountaintop, guarding its cache of treasure. This had been the location of the gathering of all the highland tribes. The vast green valley, surrounded by forests and a deep dark loch to the north, bustled with activity. Ambiorix, Nemu, and Bran rode past children at play, while a man repaired the timber fence that surrounded his roundhouse. Highland cows, sheep and goats roamed free, grazing in the lush valley. Pigs grunted at them from a nearby enclosure, the strong smell of animal dung thickened the air.

They were spotted by sentries and welcomed into the fortress.

Inside the massive gates lived the noble families and the druids. One hundred wooden roundhouses with thatch roofs were spread across the summit. They rode past a blacksmith covered in black soot, pounding out the slag, forming a weapon of some kind. Children laughed and dogs barked in the village on top of the hill. The pleasant spring day brought the women outside, where they sat in groups working at their looms.

The Caledonii were similar to the northwest highland tribes with tattoos covering most of their bodies, but most of them were tall with reddish blond hair and light skin while the other tribes had darker hair and skin. A confederation of many different tribes, the Caledonii did not adhere to the strict rules concerning lineage and totem animals like the Caitt and other tribes of the northwest highlands.

Ambiorix searched for familiar faces, but did not see any. They rode on, to the stables in the center of the hillfort.

When the horses were taken care of, Ambiorix turned to Nemu. "I want to find Cavarinus."

"I need to see Ceri and the other druids. I will take Bran with me. We can meet up later tonight."

He pulled her into his arms. They had ridden most of the day, but her hair and skin still smelled fresh. "I do not know if I can be away from you that long," he whispered into her ear.

"You are not tired of me yet?" Her tone was light and playful.

"Never." Her small body fit perfectly in his arms. In her riding clothes, snug tan trousers and a belted long green tunic with slits on the sides, he could feel the outline of her slender but curvaceous body. With reluctance, he let her go. "You behave yourself, little man." He patted the top of Bran's dark head.

He watched them walk toward the back of the fort where the druids lived, noticing how their matching dark heads gleamed like raven wings in the daylight. After they disappeared from his sight, he went in search of Cavarinus.

Brigid came to the doorway. "Ambiorix! What a pleasant surprise." She had a rosy glow on her face. Ambiorix noticed the curve of her belly. She was with child.

"Brigid. You look well. Is Cavarinus here?"

She shook her head. "He went hunting. You are welcome to stay and wait for him." She moved aside to allow him entry.

The roundhouse walls were covered with luxurious wall hangings. Embroidered scenes of boar hunts and otherworldly gods and goddesses surrounded him. Brigid offered him a bowl of fresh water to wash with, and she brought him a cup of Falernian wine.

Brigid had been a young girl when he first met and almost wed her to bind his loyalty to the tribes. She had grown into a beautiful voluptuous woman, her snug tunic revealing wide hips and full breasts. Her long fawn-colored hair was pulled back, braided.

"Is Nemu and your son here? He was just a babe when I saw him last."

"Aye. They are here visiting with the druids. I see you are about to have one of your own."

"My first." Her eyes lit up with joy.

"And who is the fortunate man?"

She blushed, smiling shyly at him. "Conare."

He nodded. "Conare is a fine man." He had rescued Conare from a slave trader and the boy had been loyal to him. Conare was like a son to him. Now he was a man. Ambiorix suddenly felt old.

"He is down in the valley building our new house. I am certain he would want to see you."

Ambiorix finished his wine. "I will take a walk down there." He felt a little uneasy being around Brigid alone even though there was nothing between them anymore.

"He is on the west side of the valley."

Ambiorix thanked her and left. He barely noticed the raven that watched him from the top of the pointed rooftop.

* * *

The she-wolf lay in thick cover not far from the huge hillfort, licking her wound. She would have to stay clear of the tall man with the spear. If she had not leaped at the last second, she would be dead. The dark-haired woman had defended her. The she-wolf had understood her words. She would have to be careful and approach the dark-haired woman when she was alone.

A raven landed nearby. The she-wolf ignored it because ravens always traveled with the wolves. The ravens would find a carcass and call to the wolves to come and tear off the thick skin, impenetrable to the ravens. The wolves and ravens would feast together. But the she-wolf stopped her licking, and looked up at the raven with inquisitive blue eyes. The raven stared at her with cunning eyes. Like the large black cat, this raven was different. But the raven did not fear her like the cat had. The she-wolf watched the raven. It seemed to be trying to tell the she-wolf that it was almost time to go to the dark-haired woman. The raven spread its wings, flying off toward the hillfort.

* * *

The High Druid, Cartagh, greeted me with a warm smile, carrying the familiar oak staff with an eagle carved into the top. It was not always like that between us. But after I had proven my loyalty, he accepted me. I had passed on the great staff to him when I left the druids, relinquishing my status as High Druid.

"This must be Bran."

Bran smiled up at the old druid, his eyes filled with awe.

"Well, what brings you here, Nemu?" He gestured for us to sit on leather chairs arranged under a wide oak tree. Then he motioned for an attendant to bring us something to drink.

"Bran shows signs of drui. He has the Sight."

"Ah, he has the raven's knowledge. That does not surprise me, considering his bloodline. Ceri can tutor him since they share the same special gift." He gave her a quizzical look, his thick brows arched. "I must ask, though, why not have one of the druids near your home teach him?"

"Ambiorix and I came to an agreement. Bran is to be taught by the druids and the warriors. When he is old enough, he can choose his own path. Ambiorix wants Cavarinus to foster him."

Cartagh nodded. "It is rare, but not unheard of to teach both to the worthy. I can arrange to have him spend half his time here and half with the warriors."

"Thank you." I shifted in my seat. "There is something else on my mind that I need your help with."

His round head tilted toward her. "Anything for you, Nemu. After all, you did save us all." His words were sincere.

I looked down at Bran. I did not want him to hear what I was going to say.

Cartagh called for the attendant. "Bran, go with Caoinihe. She might have something sweet for you to eat."

Bran looked up at me. I nodded. He went with the young girl.

"Something strange happened on the way here. Bran almost ate some poisonous mushrooms. What was strange is I am positive that they were not there when I looked the first time. I know I would have noticed them. But how did they get there? And there is something else. I have been losing my healing powers. I lost many that were sick with the fever, a fever that I have healed many times before. I have not even confided in Ambiorix about this." My heart pounded out a fearful pattern because I knew that these events were somehow connected.

Cartagh cleared his throat. "I was concerned about this. When you awakened the dragon, you might have awakened other malevolent spirits. Dark magic is not without risks."

"But I used it for good."

"It does not matter what you used it for. Dark magic is dark magic. You may also have angered the war goddess or some other being equally dangerous." He thought a moment. "We may be able to help you though. We can perform a ceremony called Spirit Walking to help you find the answer you are looking for."

"How soon?"

"We can do it tonight."

* * *

Ambiorix walked with Conare up to the hillfort to see if Cavarinus was back from hunting. He could not believe how much the boy had grown. Conare was nearly as tall as he was.

"I saw Brigid. I see you have been busy since I saw you last." Ambiorix winked at the boy.

Conare blushed, his eyes filled with happiness. "The druids think we are having a boy."

Ambiorix looked at Conare with pride shining in his blue eyes. Conare had come far since Ambiorix rescued him from the slave trader. He had proved himself a brave warrior, winning Brigid's heart. "So, you have decided to live outside of the hillfort?"

"There does not seem to be a reason anymore to stay behind the walls, and Brigid wants us to have our own home." He frowned. "It is not easy being a farmer though. I always dreamed of being a warrior, not chasing squealing pigs around a mud-sodden pen."

"You can still be a warrior."

"It is not the same. With most of the tribes at peace now, there is no one to fight anymore."

"Is that not what you want? A peaceful existence for your family?" Ambiorix understood what the boy was saying. He, too was torn between the soldier inside of him and keeping his family safe.

"Aye, but I feel restless sometimes."

"Well, you will soon be busy supporting your new family." Ambiorix gave him an encouraging smile. Conare was not of the noble class, and had no wealth to give Brigid, so he would have to work to support his family.

"Aye, that is true enough."

They approached Cavarinus's house.

Cavarinus greeted them at the doorway. "Ambiorix! Brigid told me you were here." He slapped Ambiorix on the back. "Sweet Brigantia, it is good to see you again. It has been too long." Cavarinus was as strong as ever, the only change was a few gray hairs in his shaggy reddish blond hair and moustache.

"You look well, my old friend." They gripped each other on the forearm in greeting.

"Where are your woman and child? Will they be joining us for the evening meal? There is plenty to eat."

"Nemu had business with the druids. I doubt they will be joining us."

"Come in and sit you down." He gestured toward the leather chairs around the fire pit.

Brigid had started the meal. Roasted pork sizzled on the spit. Fionnaghal, Cavarinus's wife of four summers, helped Brigid prepare the meal. Fionnaghal smiled at Ambiorix. Her pale green eyes resembled her brother, Nechtan's, eyes. It was a little unnerving to Ambiorix how much she resembled her brother.

Cavarinus offered him some wine. Conare joined them.

"To old friends." Cavarinus raised his cup in a toast. "To old friends," they said in unison, raising their cups in a toast.

"I am here to ask you a favor." Ambiorix turned to his old friend. "Since Nemu and I have no relations in any of the tribes, we would be honored if you would foster our son."

"I am the one who is honored. I will teach the boy the true way to fight." His robust laughter filled the house. "He will fight like a fierce Celt and not like a gutless Roman, eh?"

Ambiorix smiled, amused at his friend's jest.

"I'm glad that you are here because I have something to tell you." Cavarinus leaned forward in his chair. "A stranger was here asking about you. I think he was from one of the southern tribes, the Selgovae, but I did not trust him. He had a shifty look in his eyes that I did not care for."

Fear struck Ambiorix like a fist to his gut.

"No need to be worried. He is gone. He asked where you were and I told him I had no knowledge of your whereabouts." Cavarinus stood and walked to a cherry wood kist carved with intricate spirals. He opened the lid, taking something out of it and brought the item to Ambiorix. "He said to give you this if I were to see you." Cavarinus handed him a silver bracelet with interlocking circles.

Ambiorix's face turned ashen at the sight of the bracelet. "Where did he get this?" His hand shook as he reached for the bracelet.

Cavarinus looked at Ambiorix with concern. "He did not say."

Conare quietly watched the exchange.

"This bracelet belonged to my mother. It was a gift from my father and I know she would not part with it willingly." His mother had told him that his father gave it to her just before Roman soldiers killed him. She was supposed to be safe in her homeland, the territory of the Dumnonii. "I need to go find her. When did this man leave?"

"A day and a half ago."

"Then I cannot waste another day. I must leave immediately."

"Wait. You cannot go after him. The Roman legions might still be searching for you. They will kill you for betraying them."

"I cannot let my mother die because of my actions."

"I will go with you. I still trade with the southern tribes, even the ones that are loyal to Rome. We can take a small band of men so as not to attract attention."

"I want to go with you." Conare looked at him with bold blue eyes. Brigid looked at Conare with a look of disapproval in her eyes, but she said nothing.

"No, I cannot put either of you in danger."

"You cannot stop us either. We want to help you."

Ambiorix nodded.

"After we eat I will gather some men while you go tell your wife what you are up to."

He hurried through his meal and left to find Nemu and Bran.

The druids' houses were empty except for one. A young girl came to the doorway. "Are you Ambiorix?"

"Aye. Where are Nemu and my son?"

"I am called Caoinihe and your son is here with me. He has been fed and is sleeping now." She gestured toward a bed in the back of the house.

"And Nemu? Where is she?"

"She told me to tell you that she had business with the druids, and that she would be back sometime tomorrow."

"Where are they?" He tried to keep his voice down, but he grew impatient with the girl.

"I have no knowledge of where they went. It is a secret place known only to the druids." She looked up at him with innocent eyes.

He knew she was telling him the truth. Fuming inside, he cursed Nemu for her headstrong ways.

"May I?" He wanted to see his son.

"Of course." She moved aside to allow him entry.

He bent down near his sleeping son, stroking his dark hair. "I must go away for a while, Bran," he whispered so as not to wake Bran. "I will be back as soon as possible." He kissed his son on the forehead.

He motioned for the girl to follow him outside. "Tell Nemu that I had to leave because my mother is in danger. Tell her I regret that I could not wait for her, but I will send word as soon as I can."

Caoinihe nodded. "I will give her your message. May the moon and sun guide you safely on your journey."

"Thank you." Ambiorix turned and walked away. He looked upward and saw a raven sitting on an outstretched oak branch. The raven stared hard at him and then it flew up and down toward the end of the fort, resting on another branch. It looked back at him, sending a chill up his spine. Ravens were known as messengers from the Otherworld and as symbols of death and battle. Ambiorix took this as a sign. He was confident that he was making the right decision. He could not wait until tomorrow to leave. If they had a chance of catching up to the man, they had to leave tonight.

* * *

Familiar faces surrounded me and I felt the energy move through me like a lightning strike. Cartagh, Ceri, Roric, Mohdra, and the others I knew as initiates, but were now druids, sat in a circle around me, chanting, to help me on my Spirit Walk.

Moonlight bathed the sacred grove, casting a blue glow onto the thick-leaved oaks, ashes, and yews. Thin strands of mist crept up, twisting around the ancient stone cairns that held the remains of the mysterious race of people who inhabited the area long before the Celts.

I sat close to the small fire. Cartagh stood and threw some seeds on the fire. The seeds roasted, crackling in the heat, creating a cloud of thick sweet smelling smoke. He gestured for me to breathe the smoke and returned to his seat in the circle.

Some of the druids continued chanting while some shook rattles made of bones and covered in animal skin.

The sweet smelling smoke made me feel light-headed and my body felt light as a feather. I closed my eyes and felt my body lift into the air, floating among the stars. Images moved through my mind like fast moving clouds. I saw myself on that moonless night, awakening the dragon from the deep loch. I felt something brush against me, but nothing was there. Small red eyes stared at me from a dark void, but I could not see what they belonged to. Then something was pecking my skin, but I could not see that either. I saw the dark northern sea crashing against tall, jagged rocks. Mist swirled on the surface of the dark water and strange shadowy figures stood motionless on the rocks. A wolf's face appeared in front of me and then I saw something that made me cry out, "Ambiorix!" bringing me out of my trance state.

Ceri stood above me, concern filling her blue eyes. "Nemu, Nemu, can you hear me?"

I blinked to keep my eyes focused. "Yes, but what I saw..."

Ceri and Cartagh helped me to stand, moving me away from the fire and into fresh air.

"Here, rest against this rock. I will bring you some water to drink." A look passed between her and Cartagh.

With a gentle hand, he touched my shoulder. "I do not think the Spirit Walk was supposed to end that way. It is usually a pleasant experience for most."

"Well, I am not usual, am I?" I managed a weak smile. Then I remembered the last image and my look turned to one of panic. I tried to stand, but Cartagh gently pushed me back down.

"You are in no condition to travel yet. Please rest."

I felt dizzy so I complied and leaned back against the rock. Ambiorix would be at the hillfort when we returned and I could warn him then.

I stared up at the night sky. A thin veil of clouds hid the moon, but the rest of the raven-winged sky was clear. Stars twinkled like faery lights on a sunset meadow. The twinkling stars comforted me and I relaxed, closing my eyes. Before I knew it I was fast asleep, dreaming of when I had wings, and soaring high like an eagle with the moon and stars as my guides.

* * *

The she-wolf and the raven sat near the sacred grove of the druids. There was something familiar about the chants of the druids to the she-wolf. Broken images filled her mind, pain shot through her head. Whimpering, she pawed at her head. Darkness, fire, blood, and an image of a human baby flashed by, but she could make no sense of it all. The raven said that she would know soon enough. The she-wolf laid her head down, closing her eyes.

It was not time yet.

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