Waves in the Wind Read Online Free Page B

ritual’s opening mantra,
    O Gods of my fathers,
    O Mighty Lords of the Sidhe,
    Defenders of Ancient Mysteries,
    Purveyors of the Everlasting.
    See this poor mortal,
    See his unworthy fire of admiration,
    And take pity upon him,
    Hear his undeserving plea.
    The ritual went on, time passed, darkness fell, and with it continuing rain. My tiny flame spit, sizzled and flickered but continued to burn valiantly, keeping the lengthy ceremony alive.
    During the lateness of the night a vision came, a motionless painting in colorful, remarkable detail hovering in the air before me. There comes a point where weary eyes see though the mind refuses to serve its purpose. I forced myself to concentrate on the image, to press it within the folds of my memory for later study.
    The ritual ended with the coming of the vision, and I muttered the prescribed closing, thanking the gods for it. Then, as though by magic, the rain stopped, the clouds cleared and stars bejeweled the night sky. I staggered to my feet and gathered my few belongings. Polaris sparkled high above to show me the way, and I began the long, mindless, muddy trek back to my bed at Dún Ailinne.
    * * *
    I awoke in my dormitory with sunlight streaming through the windows. Someone was shaking my foot. It was Earnán.
    “Ossian, wake up. The Master calls for you.”
    A groan escaped me as I sat up, and he smiled as he handed me two barley cakes. “The kitchen is long closed for the morning. I thought you might like these before climbing the hill.”
    It was a kind act, and I thanked him for it before he left the empty dormitory. My robe was still damp and mud spattered. I donned it in disgust. The barley cakes were delicious, and I devoured them as I began a slow ascent up Knockaulin.
    Upon my arrival, the Master was seated behind his table.
    He cocked an eyebrow. “You built your fire?”
    “Yes, Master Tóla. I burned that which cannot burn.”
    “And that was?”
    “A wet sheep.”
    Humor glinted in his eyes, a currency he spent sparingly, as he nodded. “Lanolin. Yes, I hoped you would discover that solution. Now tell me, there was a vision?”
    “Yes, Master, a vision came and I saw it clearly, but found no meaning in it. Within the vision were twin white sails upon a large curragh far at sea.”
    “Twin sails on one of our Irish boats, you say?” He frowned in thought, and shook his head, bewildered. “It seems a small thing.”
    “There was more. Centered on the sails was a large red cross, the cross of the Christians.”
    His questioning eyes stared into mine for a long moment before he asked, “Were you aboard the boat?”
    “I don’t know…that is, I’m not sure. The vision was so very plain, yet the gods’ message behind it, if there was one, altogether obscure. Can you see the importance of it?”
    He continued staring into my eyes; did I detect doubt or even accusation in his? If so, why? I saw no reason for it.
    Finally, he shook his head. “No, but I am troubled by the symbolism. You have learned many Christian ways and beliefs in your religious studies. Perhaps that is all there is behind it.” He sighed and relaxed in his chair. “One thing I promise you, Ossian. The vision sent you by the Lordly Ones, vague though it may be as to its true meaning, foretold a significant event. Someday, somewhere, you will see that boat again, and when you do you will face the greatest decision of your life.”

Chapter 4
    The Darkening

    Laoidheach sat with his back against the bole of a tree idly strumming a lyre, his long legs stretched before him. A promising, straggling goatee sprouted from his chin.
    I lazed in the grass nearby, my mind as idle as his fingers. I sat up, yawned, stretched and uttered an equally idle thought. “Are you aware we’ve known one another for four years?”
    He didn’t look up. “No.”
    “And do you realize we’ve wasted much of our time together on shameful adventures among the maidens in Kilcullen?”
    His fingers