She was absolutely certain of it.
Ronan was almost certain he’d made a grave error.
His little skiff, scarce more than a cockleshell, tossed and pitched in the cold, choppy waters of Loch Dubh. The small, black-watered loch vexed and bedeviled him, giving itself as dark as its benighted name.
Scowling, he set his jaw against the pain in his ribs when the skiff plunged into yet another deep trough, but struggle as he would, the tossing waves and icy, spray-filled air undid each hard-won ply of his carefully wielded oars.
A driving wet mist drove up the loch and low clouds raced across the surrounding hills. The gusting wind blew in his face, making it ever harder to reach the little islet standing out so blackly against the thick gray fog shrouding the fine, rolling sweeps of Dare’s highest moorland.
But a dark-cloaked figure stood waiting on the islet’s stone jetty, the man’s penetrating stare piercing the whirling mist and keeping him on course.
Tall, white-maned, and wind-beaten, the berobed observer could only be Dungal Tarnach.
Or so Ronan hoped.
He tightened his grip on the oars, almost sure of it.
No one else save Valdar knew his true whereabouts.
And the power of the man shone bright against the islet’s thickly wooded foreshore, his mere silhouette edged with a shifting orangey-red glow that lit the tall ash and scarlet-berried rowan trees behind him.
The glow brightened as Ronan drew near, the wind swinging round to buffet him from behind and send the little skiff racing across the foaming waves, directly toward the old stone pier and the slick, weed-hung rocks lining the strand.
“So you came — Raven.” The man nodded in greeting, then held out a hand to aid him ashore when the skiff bumped against the jetty.
Ronan gripped the extended hand, pride not letting him refuse the courtesy. “I would hear what you have to say,” he said simply, stepping up onto the pier. “I trust I will not have cause to regret meeting with you.”
The Holder looked at him, his eyes like smoldering coals. “Come with me to the Tobar Ghorm and you can decide what you make of my tidings.”
“There are tales told in my family of the Blue Well,” Ronan said as they left the jetty to follow a narrow track through the trees. “The well was sacred to the Ancients. A place where folk no longer remembered gathered on certain days to drink the water and leave offerings in the hope of securing good fortune or curing ills. The Old Ones —”
“Still hold Tobar Ghorm as hallowed.”
Ronan frowned. “Then I find it an odd trysting place for a Holder.”
Dungal Tarnach turned to face him. “The well’s sanctity is the reason I chose it,” he said, the strange glow edging his robes gone now.
Even his eyes no longer glimmered eerily but appeared a faded light blue.
They’d left the trees and now stood in a small clearing overgrown with dead heather and thigh-high, autumn-red bracken. The Holder glanced at the Tobar Ghorm, his almost-ordinary gaze fixing on the barely discernible well in the center of the little glade.
Of very great antiquity indeed, little remained of the well save a tumble of toppled stones. Some were covered with early Celtic carvings, while others appeared simply moss-grown or riddled with lichen.
Even so, cloaked in soft mist as the clearing now was, it was all too easy to imagine ancient rites taking place there. Perhaps, too, that those so gifted might use the well’sDruidechtto pass easily between this world and those beyond.
Ronan shuddered and drew his plaid closer about his shoulders. The Tobar Ghorm’s pagan magic yet pulsed here, untouched by the centuries, itslife forceseizing him like a fist clenched around his soul.
Unthinkable that a turned druid would dare risk treading here.
Yet Dungal Tarnach stood proud, not a trace of shame or humility on his face.
He looked at Ronan then and for one brief moment a trace of sadness flickered in his eyes. “You think one such as I cannot hold a place such as this in high honor?”
“I did not say that.” Ronan frowned, feeling oddly chastised.
“You did not have to.”
“I —” Ronan bit off the words, not even sure what he meant to say.
