though she found the suggestion odd.
Her father saw nothing wrong with it though, because he did exactly as Eirik suggested. Wielding the sword through the pattern of movement she had seen many times before, he yet managed to make the dance something more than it had ever been.
And Ciara realized the stones in the hilt were glowing now.
Talorc stopped and held the sword like it had been made for him. “The handle is hot.”
“I was taught that none but those of my line could wield the sword given me upon my father’s death,” Eirik said. “That it would accept only a Chrechte of righteous heart as its master.”
“It’s a sword, not a horse,” Ciara’s adopted father said with some disbelief.
Chapter 14
Learning carries within itself certain dangers because out of necessity one has to learn from one’s enemies.
—LEON TROTSKY
“Aye, but it is connected to your Faolchú Chridhe through the stones in the hilt,” Eirik claimed. “Our tradition says that the original sacred stone was cut into the large stone used in our ceremonies, and a series of smaller ones.”
“I have never heard of such,” her father replied.
Eirik shrugged, clearly unsurprised. “Originally these stones were held by different members of the family that had been entrusted with the protection and use of the Clach Gealach Gra on behalf of our people. Later, some of the smaller stones were lost while others were used in jewelry to decorate weapons that became as important as bloodlines in claiming the title of spiritual leader or king.”
“You believe it was the same among the Faol?” Ciara asked, thinking it sounded right.
Eirik looked down at her. “Aye.”
“So, he is feeling the heat in the handle because he is also of the bloodline.”
“Aye.” Eirik touched her temple as if imparting a truth directly to her. “Fate sent you to this home for a reason when you lost the last of the family of your birth.”
“I have always believed that.” Abigail reached out to take Ciara’s hand and squeezed. “You were meant to be my daughter.”
The lump in Ciara’s throat prevented her from replying.
“You are saying any other warrior could not wield this sword just as easily?” her father demanded of Eirik, clearly uncomfortable with the overt emotion swirling around them.
“Exactly.”
“I do not believe it.”
“Call another warrior inside.”
Guaire jumped up. “I’ll find Niall and ask him to send a soldier to the great hall.”
Talorc inclined his head in acknowledgment and the seneschal left the great hall. Her father laid the sword on the table. “Was that your question, Ciara?”
“What?”
“Whether I could wield the sword, or not?”
“Oh…uh…no. I did not realize Eirik thought you could, or that some could not. The sword has nothing to do with my question.”
“Directly,” Eirik interjected.
And she nodded in agreement. She could not deny the connection between it and the Faolchú Chridhe, not after her waking vision.
When her father just gave her a look of question, she swallowed and prepared to share more of the secrets she’d kept held so close for so long.
“Is this about your dreams?” Abigail asked, clearly trying to help Ciara get the words out.
Ciara swallowed again and then forced the words from her tight throat. “In my dreams, I see the Faolchú Chridhe in a vast cavern that glows with a strange green light. It’s not torches, but almost as if the walls themselves put off the light. Do you know of caves or a cavern such as this?”
Saying it out loud made it sound even more fanciful than when she thought about it.
Before her father had a chance to answer, Guaire came in with Everett, one of the Chrechte soldiers.
Abigail smiled in welcome, but Talorc wasted no time in indicating the sword on the table. “Use that to demonstrate the beginning sword movements taught to all warriors.”
Everett did not ask why but simply obeyed his laird. However, it was quickly obvious he did not like the sword he was using. His movements lacked grace and the sword looked more like a heavy boulder in his hand the way it moved than a weapon of such impressive craftsmanship.
Nevertheless, Everett finished his demonstration before setting the sword back on the table with a frown.
“It is beautiful, but the weight is all wrong. I’d probably end up cutting my own arm off if I tried to use this sword in battle. Was it a gift sent north by our lady’s family?” he asked in confusion.
“Nay. You may leave, Everett.”
Everett shrugged and did so, showing no reluctance to get back to his training.
Eirik