Forgotten Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2017 by Mia Pride

  Forgotten Fate

  Published by: Mia Pride

  www.miapride.com

  https://www.facebook.com/miaprideauthor

  Edited by Liz Watson

  Proofread by Bethannee Witczak

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  This book is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1546624448

  ISBN-10: 1546624449

  Contents

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Sisters of the Danu Family Tree

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Authors Note

  Acknowledgements

  About the author

  To my mom, who never stops believing in me and is more excited about my books than I am!

  To my dad, who always encouraged my love for writing, even as a little girl.

  Prologue

  68 AD- Samhain Festival

  “You will never catch me, Duncan! I am much faster than you!”

  “Aye, I will, Aislin! You are naught but a lass! I will catch you!” Little Duncan huffed while he ran full speed after his cousin, her red hair streaming behind her as she ran into the blackness of the winter night.

  “Nay! Lassies are just as fast as lads! Besides, I am older!” Aislin panted as she ran past another hawthorn tree, glittery white powder hanging from its slumbering limbs. The chill was sharp in the air and snow crunched underneath her feet, but Aislin would never allow a wee lad to outrun her.

  “Rubbish!” Duncan declared as he held onto the pinch in his sides. “Nay fair, Aislin.” He came to a skidding stop, slipping on the packed ice beneath his leather boots as he realized Aislin was nowhere to be seen. “Alright. You win…this time. Now come out,” he panted.

  Bent over holding his aching side, Duncan used his free hand to wipe his loose brown hair off his sweaty forehead, a move he often saw his papa do. At just five summers of age, Little Duncan was the spitting image of his father, Liam, only he had the beaming green eyes of his mama, Gwynneth, one of the legendary Sisters of Danu.

  “Did you hear me? I said you win. Come out now.” Duncan swiveled around looking between the frozen trees for any sign of Aislin’s bright red locks. “Aislin? Tis not amusing.” Up high in a branch, an owl hooted above his head and made him squeal with fear. Looking up, all he could see were the gnarled branches of the surrounding trees, the snow glowing with a bluish hue from the full moon. “Come out or I will tell Auntie Ceara! Your mama will be so cross!”

  “Duuuuuncaaaaaan…” an eerie voice called into the night sky.

  “Who is that? Aislin? You are not frightening me!”

  “Whooooo iiiiis Aiiiisliiiiin?” the voice echoed.

  “Stop it!” Little Duncan squealed, holding his hands over his ears and taking blind steps backwards into the forest. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed him by the back of his red tunic, jerking him until he fell onto his rear, cold snow soaking through his wool trousers.

  He let out a blood curdling scream just as the hand came down and covered his mouth with a stinging slap, stifling his cries. “Hush, you fool! Want to get us into trouble? Tis only me. Stop believing in those mystical stories of spirits and faeries our mamas always tell us!” Aislin helped Duncan back up to his feet, smacking the rump of his trousers to remove whatever snow had not yet melted into the fabric. “Has Auntie Gwynn been telling you more of her ridiculous stories?”

  Obviously taking offense at the implication that his mother told false tales, Little Duncan puffed out his chest and slicked his long brown hair back like his papa again. “My mama is a Sister of Danu, just like yours. Has Auntie Ceara not told you about when Grandpapa Doran came on Samhain once to prove to them who they are?”

  With a rude guffaw, Aislin flipped her wavy red locks back and flashed her emerald eyes at Duncan with a sassy smirk, looking just like her mother. “Aye, my mama has told me all the stories, but that is all they are: stories. Have you seen any evidence to suggest otherwise?”

  Looking wounded once again, he wrinkled his little nose and put his hands on his hips. “Aye! My mama can make rivers. I have seen it!”

  With another wave of dismissal, Aislin shrugged off the very notion. “Nothing more than an illusion. Trickery of the eyes, to be sure. Your mama controls water, my mama controls fire, and auntie Una controls earth,” she rolled her eyes as she waved her hands in the air. “Tis utter nonsense, Little Dun. Best you learn it now. In my seven whole summers of life, I have seen nothing convincing. Only tales.”

  Duncan rubbed his temples with his fingers in frustration, another habit he learned from his papa over the years. “You women are so stubborn! That is what papa always says!”

  “Aye! Stubbornness is a female trait in our family. Best you learn that now, as well,” Aislin said with a quirk of her brow.

  Finally looking away from Aislin to observe his surroundings, he realized they were in some sort of cavern. “What is this place, anyway?” he asked, wrapping his arms around himself, staving off the sudden chill.

  “Tis a cavern I found once while playing out here with the others. Is it not mysterious?”

  The “others” Aislin referred to were her brother and many older cousins. Aislin’s older brother was Eoin, now ten summers of age. He was the same age as Treasa, Leannan, and Alyson, who were Duncan’s older sisters. Their last two cousins, Brennain and Flynn, ages ten and nine, arrived earlier today with Uncle Brocc and Auntie Una just in time for the Samhain festival.

  With fourteen of them in their family, it was always chaos when they came together for festivals. The adults would share stories with the children, who would all eventually run off and find mischief of a sort. This cavern was discovered during one of those many nights of mischief. This Samhain, the entire family was meeting here at Coraindt, where Aislin’s parents, Garreth and Ceara, were the king and queen of their tuath.

  “Speaking of mysterious…I think we should get back to the Samhain festival. The veil between this world and the Otherworld is thin today, and I do not wish to get caught by any spirits…or faeries. I think we should head back.” Duncan shivered as his imagination ran wild and his eyes roamed the dark depths of the cave.

  As he turned to head back into the village, Aislin grabbed a hold of his tunic sleeve. “There you go again, Dun. There is nay such thing. Nay spirits and certainly nay faeries.”

  “Think what you want, Aislin, but I am going back. And I cannot leave you…Uncle Garreth would have my neck!”

  “Listen to him, Lin,” boomed a more authoritative voice from the caverns entrance. “Papa will have all our necks.” It was Eoin, Aislin’s older brother. His blonde hair was almost glowing blue in the dim moon light shining through the entrance, but his straight back and stern voice made sure to always remind her that he was in charge. Standing beside him were their cousins Brennain and Flynn. Both brothers had their mother Una’s deep green eyes and father Brocc’s jet black hair. They were only one summer apart in age and could pass for twins, except Brennain stood half a hand taller.

  Aislin rolled her green eyes and stomped her foot in irritation. “You lads are always together, are you not?”

  “Is that a problem?” Eoin squinted at his sister in consternation.

  “Aye! It is. Because you act as if you are my elders.”

  “We are your elders, and we are men. We know what is best,” Brennain said with a proud lift of his chin.

  An unladylike snort escaped Aislin’s nose as she stepped closer to her cousin. “Has Auntie Una heard you speak like that? I do not think she would agree, nor would Uncle Brocc for that matter. All our papas know better…and someday, you all will, as well. Besides, I hardly think that you being three summers older than me qualifies you as my elder!” She lifted her chin up to them and put her hands on her hips. “When I am twenty summers, you will be three and twenty. Hardly a difference. Besides,” she said with her usual mischievous smirk as she turned her gaze on her older brother, “I do not think Eoin believes he is better than Treasa…do you Eoin?”

  A hot flush covered Eoin’s cheeks as all the blood rushed to his head, his hazel eyes avoiding her gaze as he ran a finger through his trim blonde hair. “What a thing to say, Lin! She is my cousin!”

  “But not by blood, and well you know it…very well, I believe.” She winked knowingly and he blushed further. Treasa may have been raised by their Auntie Gwynn and Uncle Liam, but she was the daughter of Gwynn’s previous husband and Liam’s former lover, of no blo
od relation to any of them. Though everyone loved Treasa like family, Aislin knew Eoin loved her in a different way. A way that would make all the blood rush to his face at the mere mention of her name…

  Just as Eoin was about to argue, he seemed to see something move in the depths of the cave. He startled and stepped back, pointing into the darkness. “Wh-what was that?” he uttered in a low whisper.

  Aislin and Duncan both turned to look behind them, but Aislin looked back over to her brother quickly and scowled. “I am not falling for that, Eoin! You are only trying to distract me from talking about Treasa!”

  “Nay! I saw it, as well!” Flynn said with a shiver. “Something hunched and grayish looking. Blech!”

  That set Aislin on edge. Flynn was the quiet one of the bunch, and certainly not prone to exaggeration or trickery. If Flynn said he saw something, then something, indeed, he saw. But what? She spun around again quickly and backed up against her older brother, feeling his arms tighten protectively around her shoulders. For all their squabbling, she always knew she could count on all four lads, even Little Duncan, when she needed them.

  “P-perhaps we have heard too many stories about faeries, druids, and the Sisters of Danu. We must be losing our minds. Let us all get back to our parents,” Brennain suggested. Everyone nodded silently as they started quickly back into the forests of Coraindt.

  There was a strong gust of wind just as they began to take their first step out into the night. “Sisters of Danu, did ye say, hmmm?” The gravelly voice came from the very back of the cavern and all the children stopped in their tracks, afraid to move forward, but much more afraid to look back. His shrill voice boomed again, echoing all around. “Ye do not believe in the faery folk?” the croaking voice asked skeptically, but as they all turned around, no source for the voice could yet be seen.

  Mustering up all her courage, Aislin spun her leather slippers around on the loose dirt of the earthen floor and faced the voice’s direction. “N-nay,” she forced, failing to sound at all certain, clinging to her older brother’s tunic as she shook.

  They all turned now to look into the darkness, ready to flee any second. Slowly, a foot stepped out of the black depths of the cave. It was a gray, dirty foot, one that had not been washed in what looked like ages. It was wrinkly as well, with small folds traveling from foot to ankle and all the way up to the now exposed ashen leg. As the matching leg stepped forward, the entire creature came into full relief, the moon’s silvery light only adding to its grayish hue.

  The creature looked almost human, yet a touch too short. He had a very long white beard that also appeared not to have been groomed for a profound length of time. A very dingy, torn tunic hung past his knees. He had a slight hunch to his back and a balding head at its crown, the sides overgrown with wild tufts of white hair. The strange creature smiled at them, almost too emphatically, showing off crooked yellow teeth.

  Unsure if his awkward smile was sincere or sinister, the lads all backed away, taking Aislin back a step with them.

  “Speak then, s-sir.” Eoin stuttered, clearly unsure how to address this…man? Troll? Spirit? Eoin clearly did not know how to address the creature, but Aislin could see him grasp at all the respect he could muster, not wanting to cause offense.

  “Awe, sir. I have nay been called that in, well…ever!” He chuckled and rocked back and forth on his heels, as if truly delighted by his new title. “Aye, call me sir and I will gladly speak.”

  But then he did not speak. He became quiet again and the children gaped at him wondering what he was, yet too afraid to ask.

  “Sir…” Aislin tried to step forward, but Eoin had a tight grasp on the flowing sleeve of her green gown. “May we ask your name?”

  “Name? I am not so sure…do I have a name?” He tilted his head quizzically at the children, as if he genuinely expected them to know if he ever once had a name.

  They all stared at him with wide-eyed awe, and he looked at each pair carefully. “I see eyes,” he said with an excited nod of his head, again very exaggerated in movement.

  Still, the children remained silent, having no idea how to respond to this creature standing before them. He decided to elaborate on what, he apparently believed, was an obvious statement. With a frustrated wave of his hand he said enthusiastically, “Eyes! Green eyes! Emerald green eyes! The eyes of Dana!” He smiled that crooked toothy smile again, and then his smile suddenly went slack.

  “Aye, many of us have green eyes…our mamas have them as well.” Aislin nodded slowly at the creature. “Dana you say?” She recognized that name. Was that not the faery her mama insisted they all descended from? Surely that was all a jest, if not an utter falsehood. Who was this creature and why did he care about their eye color?

  “Aye! Eye!” he giggled into his wrinkly gray palm, his long beard dragging on the dirt floor. “Eyes of Dana. Your mamas have the eyes of Dana…all three of them.”

  A gasp escaped loudly and simultaneously from the mouths of all five children, echoing off the cavern walls. “Tis correct, sir.” Brennain tried to sound stern. “How do you know our mothers?”

  “Och, I know not your mothers, son. But I do know Dana…or I did, aye…eye.” He laughed again, harder this time, as if he, himself, were the most humorous of creatures in all the land. “Your mothers have her eyes. As do ye. Ye are all descendants of Dana. Nay doubt. There are nay others in this human realm with eyes like hers. Faery eyes, they are.” He sighed sadly, as if he felt a great loss.

  Suddenly, Aislin felt emboldened. She was no longer afraid of this creature standing before her. He was quite old…and quite mad. But if he meant to harm them, surely he would have done so by now. She stepped forward, yanking her sleeve out of Eoin’s grasp. “Your name, sir?” she asked of him again. “Mine is Aislin. Yours is…?”

  “Sir?” he questioned. “My name is Sir!” he nodded with confidence. “For, it has been so long since I spoke to another, I fear, if ever I had a name, I can nay longer recall it.” Again, his features shifted from overly enthusiastic to forlorn.

  She was feeling almost fond of the elderly…troll? She still did not know what to call him. “Very well, Sir,” she tipped her head to him. “Tell us how you know Dana, if you please.”

  “Dana…” he sighed the name as if the sound of it triggered some deep-seated pain, and his face crumbled into a mass of squished wrinkles. “Dana was my love, before she ran off to the human world.”

  Aha! He was not human! Was he? “Did she meet you here, in this world?” Aislin was desperate to drag details out of this poor confused man.

  “Nay. We met in our world, the world of the faeries, under the mounds where we were sent after being defeated by the Milesians. Ye,” he pointed at them almost accusingly, “are descendants of the Tuatha de Danann, aye? The people sent underground to live in the darkness. The people whose descendants became known as faeries. Ye are us.” He nodded with finality.

  He was so very certain of himself. And he reiterated exactly what their parents had told them their entire lives. Could it be true? Before openly accepting his words as truth, Aislin had to ask the last lingering question on her mind. “So, you are a faery, then?” she quirked her red brow and looked at him with her usual skeptical stare. “You certainly do not look like a faery…”

  “And ye have seen many, have ye child?” he questioned with a smirk.

  “Well, actually…nay.” She could feel her cheeks turn pink. Despite her usually assured confidence, she was known to give away her lack thereof with an unmistakable flush of the cheeks.

  “Faeries take many shapes, my child. If I were a faery on a flower mound, mayhap I would be all rosy cheeked with bright red hair and shiny little wings,” he laughed as he pretended to flutter around the cavern. “But I am not. I am a faery in a cursed cavern!” He suddenly looked angry, as if he loathed his own existence. “Nay. I am gray, dry and wrinkly, like this horrible cave!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls.

  He began to pace and mumble under his breath. Aislin could not hear all his jumbled words, but she swore she heard him say something about aging too quickly and being trapped in the land of humans. Trapped? Could he not simply leave the cave? Were there rules to how often one could cross the veil? Before she could ask, he suddenly perked up as he raised a finger in the air. “But, it does have its advantages!” His crooked teeth flashed in delight once more.