The Draoidh and the Dryad make plans
Chapter 6 - Part 3 (Voyage of the Dawn Breaker)
O'Cuire leaned against the rail, mentally guessing the height above the treetops based on the sails' temperature, airflow, and shape as the wind lessened. It should be about sixteen fathoms. “Cailin Ixa, can you give me our height above the trees?”
The air elemental looked up, “Captain?” She was still partially wrapped around Rembran, who dipped his head and repeated O'Cuire's request. “Oh … “her eyes grew unfocused as she gauged the distance to the ground below. “Around six hundred feet, more or less.” She snuggled back into Rembran, who had taken the opportunity to put on a thick leather duster. Much better, she thought. “Andros could give you an exact figure,” she commented as she tried to slip inside the front of the coat.
“Tis true,” the Earth elemental replied, quickly looking under the keel. “It is exactly sixteen and three-quarters fathoms from the keel to the ground.”
“Stop that,” Rembran whispered as Ixa curled against him.
“It's so cold,” Ixa whimpered.
Rembran sighed as he rested his hand on Ixa's lower back. “I did suggest that you change into something warmer. Why didn't you?”
Ixa glanced up, “This is the most beautiful thing I've ever worn. I don't want to take it off,” she paused, grinning playfully, “until you take it off of me.”
“You can wear it tonight, and I promise that I'll strip it from your body, veil by silky veil,” Rembran replied as he cupped her derrière. “Now, change into something warmer,” he commanded.
“Is that an order, Maighstir?” She whispered after catching her breath.
“It is,” he stated with an edge to his voice.
“Yes, Maighstir,” she bantered as she stepped back and closed her eyes. Her bare feet were covered by thick leather moccasin shoes that crept up her legs, stopping just under the woolen skirt that fell to her knees. A long-sleeved cotton blouse just as quickly replaced the thin, silky veils. “Better, Maighstir?” She turned in place, showing herself to Rembran.
“Much,” he affirmed, “now if you two would level us off.”
The two worked together to balance the ship. Rembran closed his eyes and followed the flow of magic as the two elementals redistributed the weight along the keel until the boat settled into level flight. Ixa and Andros worked together and did in one minute what would have taken a team of sailors several hours to complete.
When they finished, Ixa slipped under Rembran's right arm and leaned into him, softly purring as he adjusted the duster to cover her with a “Spoiled brat.”
Her playful laughter echoed through the air. The two of them watched as the sailors adjusted the sails to catch the light wind that blew through the clouds.
“That door,” Rhyslin stated with calm amusement, “leads to my great cabin.” When Ilyriatri arched a brow, he continued, “Your cabin and the two next to it are guest cabins. The one to the right is where my servant would sleep.” He paused, “Knowing Natolie, that's where she put Flur.”
Ilyriatri glanced at the door and then back at Rhyslin with a slight blush. “And your cabin?” What am I thinking?
Rhyslin arched a brow and calmly replied, “My cabin is on the far side of the great cabin.”
Vuuroena's eyes widened in shock, “Mathair, what are you doing?”
“I don't have to explain myself to you, young lady,” Ilyriatri replied.
“But, but ...” You know Flur gave herself to him, and in time, so will I. Vuuroena thought.
“But nothing,” Ilyriatri stated, then turned back to Rhyslin. “If you will excuse us, Maighstir Darkblade, I must talk with my daughter.” She offered him a half-courtesy, even though she wanted to kneel before him and give herself to him. She took a deep breath to regain her calm. When she felt the heat leave her cheeks, she looked up to discover that he and the dryad had left the cabin. Forgive me, daughter, but you aren't going to like what I'm about to say. She closed her eyes briefly before turning to her moping daughter. “Mo nighean, we need to talk.”
To her credit, Vuuroena didn't yell or scream, even though she looked like she wanted to cry. “About what?”
“About men and women and how the Ciad-Ghin lived in the past,” Ilyriatri explained as she crossed the room and lowered the bed frame into place. After climbing onto the bed, she invited her daughter to join her by patting the mattress. When Vuuroena joined her, she wrapped an arm around her daughter. “How much do you remember about our history and the way we used to live?”
With a nod, Rhyslin beckoned to Keisha, who followed him into the great cabin. “Make yourself at home,” he invited as he placed the staff on the wall and sat in the wing-backed chair.
Keisha waited until he was comfortable and then padded and knelt before him. Her green eyes flashed in the afternoon light when she looked up at him. “Is something wrong with the grove mistress?” she inquired, leaning forward on her knees. “She's been there longer than you've been alive.”
“That's very true,” Rhyslin agreed. “She's been the grove mistress for almost three linntean[1].” He leaned back, “She's the one who gave me permission to build my manse.” He smiled fondly as a memory came to mind. “She said that I could only build my house if I made the glade a part of my property and enclosed it.”
Keisha listened as she watched him intently. When he grew quiet, she gave him time to savor the memory before asking, “Why is Matron Foghar going away?”
“Hmm?” Rhyslin leaned forward in his chair. “Before we left, she mentioned that she felt A òran cadal buan[2],” he said as he rested his hand on his chest.
Keisha's eyes widened in awe. “A òran cadal buanir,” she whispered reverently. “How long until she goes to An Gàradh sìorraidh[3]?”
“She has enough time to start training the new grove mistress.”
Keisha blinked in surprise, “The new grove mistress,” she mouthed. Why is he staring at me like that? She wondered as she met his eyes, eyes that looked into her soul. She rocked back on her knees when a knowing smile crossed his lips.
“Me?” A single nod of his head shook her. “I can't be a grove mistress. I'm not old enough.”
Rhyslin arched his right brow. “Oddly enough, thanks to Mathair, you are old enough to become a grove mistress in training,” he stated calmly.
“But Keitha and I are twins. We are the same age.” She tried to reason.
Rhyslin nodded in understanding but didn't feel like arguing with her. Instead, he let her bluster for a few minutes and then asked, “How old does a nighean na coille have to be to become a grove mistress?”
“At least twenty-two summers,” Keisha replied, watching as Rhyslin very carefully used the art to create a life-like duplicate of her and placed it where she could see it.
“Is this you?” He gestured to the image.
Keisha silently walked over and gazed at her image. After circling it, she drew a slow breath and examined herself. It took some time for her to accept what Mathair na coille had given her. “It is,” she finally admitted. “I look as if I'm twenty-two summers old.” She blinked, using a minor spell to look inwards.
“Oh my, I am twenty-two summers old.” She was awestruck. “Do you think that I will make a good grove mistress?”
Rhyslin could tell she wanted the truth, “If I didn't think so, I wouldn't have invited you.”
“Maighstir Darkblade, if I become a grove mistress, would you be my Grove-Master?”
“Considering that I have enclosed the grove and protected the land around it, that technically makes me the grove master,” Rhyslin explained with a wry grin.
Keisha watched him intently. “Have you and Matron Foghar ever … you know … “A slow blush crawled up her body.
The draoidh arched a brow and let her fidget momentarily before laughing softly. “By the time I met her, she had passed beyond fruit-bearing years.”
His explanation caught her by surprise. Why am I suddenly so hot? She wondered. Why do I want to gabh ri feise leis? The longer she stared at him, the more heated she became. Faced with the sudden loss of control, she stammered an apology and ran out the door, leaving a bemused Rhyslin alone in his cabin.
[1] centuries
[2] The song of eternal sleep
[3] The eternal garden
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There's nothing more magical than a flying ship, fathoms above the ground.