Emily's House: Book 1 of the Akasha Chronicles

Chapter 39: Macha's Promise

Chapter 39: Macha’s Promise

 Cian returned to Dughall’s cottage that night with a basket full of linen strips, vials of potions, and herbs and other plants. It was just a few hours after dusk and Cian found Dughall sleeping fitfully. He was still alive, but his breath was shallow.

Macha was by Dughall’s side. Her wings, always reflective of her mood, were a muted blue and grey. As Cian walked in Macha brightened a little.

“Do you have all that you need to do my master’s bidding?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s all here. Why you stand by his side all these years is beyond me,” Cian replied.

“I would ask the same of you, antediluvian one,” Macha retorted.

Cian ignored her taunt and moved quickly about his work. He took a stick of sage that had been wound tightly, lit it in the fire, and then walked slowly around the room in a sunwise direction three times. Cian swirled the smoke above his head as he walked and muttered incantations.

Once he had purified the air of the cottage, Cian pulled fine linen cloth out of his bag and dipped it into a bowl that had been filled with water that he had blessed and prepared with purifying herbs. He took the cloth and wiped Dughall’s face and body with it, doing his best to purify Dughall’s body before it drew its last breath.

He could see that Dughall undoubtedly was near his end, as he did not protest being touched and bathed by Cian. In his fragile state, Cian thought Dughall looked much like any other man about to die. There was no trace upon his face of the sadness and fear he had inflicted on others. There was no evidence of the battles he had waged and the lives he had taken. There was only an aged man, skin greying and sallow, overtaken by the illness that raged in his body.

Cian knew that he had to wake Dughall so that he could get him to drink the tonic he had prepared. He was hesitant to do so. Perhaps I should just let him die. It would be best for the fellow anyway – to pass to whatever realm best befit a man who had lived the life Dughall had chosen. That fate would be better for him than the Umbra Nihili, would it not?

But Macha was right. Cian had a strange allegiance to this wretched man lying before him. He did not know the reason a brilliant former Druid and dark wizard spent so many of his precious years in the company of Dughall and his deceitful, ever-present companion Macha. Perhaps the allegiance was forged out of a shared quest to achieve the domination and power each sought.

Cian had no time for philosophy. He had to make a choice, and he knew he would honor the request of his longtime companion.

“Macha,” he said, “the time has come. Wake your master and have him drink this tonic. Make certain that he drinks it to the last drop.”

Macha did as he requested and the small vial of bitter tonic seemed large in her small faerie hands. She woke Dughall and ordered him to drink the tonic. In his weakened state, he did not protest.

As soon as he had swallowed the last bit his head fell back against the pillow. “Trying to poison me again, hey Cian?” he asked.

“The tonic will prepare your body to more easily allow a portion of your soul to depart to the Umbra Nihili,” replied Cian. “Rest now.”

Dughall kept his eyes open. He was tired but felt warmth coursing through his veins. His body felt as though every fiber tingled. There was certain aliveness in him that he had not felt in years.