Page 32 of A Celtic Vow
“Pretty darn real memory.” Her brows whipped together. “Not to mention a very real nightmare minus the vicious dragon this time.”
“Then, as you intended all along, mayhap ‘tis time to put your nightmare to rest?” He steered her along the path toward King’s Fall. “To see the good in it rather than the bad?”
“Which is what exactly?” She frowned at him. “I was terrified of you, Aodh. Running for my life. A complete coward until I finally wasn’t.”
“Then might that be the message we take from what we just saw?” He arched a brow at her, hopeful she saw things as he did. “That you were not a coward in the end. That you faced your greatest fear rather than ran from it.”
“I suppose that’s not a bad way to look at it.” Yet she seemed unconvinced. Worried. “The best way I,we, can look at it right now, I guess.”
She was about to say more but trailed off when the tree-covered pathway led to what he had been eager to show her.
“Oh, my dear God.” Constance put a hand to her heart and stared wide-eyed at the huge waterfall cascading into a massive rock formation that looked like a king’s crown. “I see why it’s called King’s Fall.”
He knew by her thoughts she could also see why they would have enjoyed it here as kids.
“’Tis quite the sight, is it not?” he asked.
“It really is.” She shook her head and took in the trees growing along the rock face beside it. The mist that rose off the fall from the sheer power of the water.
“Only one other place is like this,” he said. “’Tis close to King’s Heart.”
“Where Cian and Madison found the best part of their magic,” she murmured. “A pond not all that different than this one.”
“Ta,” he replied, not surprised she knew as much whether Madison had told her or not. “Much like that location, locals feel this place is touched by the gods. Magical in its own way.”
“I can see why.” She drifted toward the water’s edge. “It’s enchanting here.” She took in the cliffs and the trees surrounding it. “And well-protected.” Her voice dropped an octave in what sounded like reverence. “Loved by nature and God.” She nodded at him once, sounding certain. “And your gods.” Her gaze returned to the waterfall. “By all deities everywhere.”
Although tempted to argue this was a spot for his gods alone, something about the way she took everything in made him hold his tongue. Again, he didn’t feel this was the time to argue. If anything, it was a time for them to remain open to each other.
Accepting of one another.
“Yet we should talk,” Constance said softly, following his thoughts. She looked at him with both worry and earnestness. “I have a feeling if we have any hope of moving forward together, we need to push past our religious differences.”
“And how do we do that?” he wondered, agreeing with her.
“By talking,” she repeated, sitting on a rock by the shore. She patted the spot beside her and echoed his sentiments. “And being open-minded, I suppose.”
He joined her. “I agree.”
“The question is,” she fingered her cross and eyed him, “do we have it in us?”
“I would have said nay even a day ago.” He pulled out skins of water for them. “But now,” he handed one to her, and his gaze lingered on her lovely face, “ ‘twould be nothing less than ignorant of me not to hear your side of the story.”
“My side of the story?” Mild amusement lit her eyes. “You mean the bible?”
“I mean how you interpret the bible, for surely everyone takes something different from it.” He shrugged. “Then I will share what I take from my gods. How they exist not just around me but at times within me.”
“Well, so does my God.” Constance went on to explain how he resided in her during difficult times. She gestured at the trees around her. “And while I always knew He resided in nature, I feel Him more strongly than ever since traveling here. In the sunlight dancing through the brush.” She gestured at the pond. “Trickling over the water.”
While he wasn’t particularly pleased to hear that, he couldn’t dislike her for it. If he did, he would have to dislike his own people who had chosen to follow the intrusive deity.
Instead, he spoke of his Celtic gods. All of which were tattooed on him one way or another. From the horned god, Cernunnos, who connected him to nature and the wildlife around him, to Dagda, who kept him connected not just to his inner strength and magic but a sense of humor that had become harder to harness in more recent years. Above all, though, was Eriu, or Eire as she was known nowadays, a goddess to whom Ireland owed its name.
“’Tis said Eriu symbolized the legacy of theTuatha Dé Danann,a race of gods that far predate your Christian god after they were defeated by the Milesians,” he explained. “When the Milesians invaded Ireland from Galicia, Eriu and her two sistersBanbaandFotlawent forth and greeted the newcomers.”
He paused a moment and sent a silent prayer up to Eriu before he continued. “As a courtesy, the Milesians promised to name the land after her, which they did.” He sighed. “Unfortunately for theTuatha Dé Danann, they were only given the underground to dwell in by the victorious Milesians. This realm was perceived as the passage to the Celtic Otherworld. Thus, the Otherworld is associated with the supernatural, a mystical world where fairies and gods lived.” He shook his head. “We now know, however, fairies are still amongst us as are the gods, so I’m certain Eriu is too, lending our country strength and goodwill at every turn.”
“I imagine she must be,” Constance said softly. Respectfully.
