Michelle Willingham - Surrender to An Irish Warrior

Ireland1180

T he autumn wind was frigid, cutting through his cloak in a dark warning that he needed to seek shelter. Yet Trahern MacEgan hardly felt the cold. For the past season, hed felt nothing at all, his emotions as frigid as the surrounding air.

Vengeance consumed him now, along with the fierce need to find the men who had killed Ciara. Hed left his home and family, returning to the southwest of ireann, where the Reilly tribe dwelled at Glen Omrigh.

His brothers didnt know of his intent to find the raiders. They believed he was travelling again, to visit with friends and tell his stories. As a bard, he rarely stayed in one place for very long, so they werent at all suspicious.

But for this journey, hed wanted to be alone. His brothers had their wives and children to guard. Hed never risk their safety, not when they had so much to lose. He had no one, and he preferred it that way.

The land was more mountainous here, with green hills rising from the mist. A narrow road snaked through the valley, and misty warm clouds released from his horses nostrils. The emptiness suited him, for hed never expected to lose the woman hed loved.

Earlier in the summer, Ciaras brother, ron, had sent word that the cashel had been attacked by Viking raiders. Ciara had been caught in the middle of the battle, struck down and killed when shed tried to flee.

The devastating news had kept him from Glen Omrigh for months. He didnt want to see Ciaras grave or hear the sympathy from friends. More than anything, he needed to forget.

But time hadnt dulled his pain, it had only heightened it. He shouldnt have left her. The guilt consumed him, eating away at the man he was.

Hatred flowed within his veins now, suffocating the pain of loss. The anguish had been replaced with rage, a sense of purpose. He was going to find the raiders, and when he did, they would suffer the same fate Ciara had endured.

When the sun had grown lower in the sky, he set up a fire and unpacked the tent. Though he could have finished his journey to Glen Omrigh, had he continued to ride for another few hours, he preferred to spend the night alone.

The flames licked at the wood, flaring bright orange against the night sky. Tomorrow, he would reach the cashel and begin tracking his enemy.

Trahern stretched out upon his cloak, watching the fire and listening to the sounds of the evening while he ate. In the distance, he heard the faint rustling of leaves against the forest floor. Likely animals. Even so, he reached for his blade.

The movement was heavier than a squirrel or a fox. No, this was human, not an animal. Trahern clenched his sword, waiting for the person to draw closer.