Rundimahair: A new hero for a new adventure by Larry Forkner (summer books .TXT) 📗

voice is sounding stronger. I slipped a bit of home-grown remedy into your water. It always does the trick,” she said, smiling.

He was going to complain, but he realized that his voice was stronger and his aching throat felt better too. It was past time to trust Ashling and her amazing healing gift.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re very welcome, I’m sure,” Ashling said.

“Actually, it’s time to trust me in all things, Sean,” she said chuckling. “I have many amazing gifts you still know nothing about.”

“I take it I’m still broadcasting my thoughts for all the magical world to hear,” he said.

“Loud and clear,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t fret, we’ll work on that in the days ahead.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” he said.

She smiled mischievously and said, “I’d worry more about those dreams of yours. We wouldn’t want some of your dreams about you and me getting out for public consumption.”

“What?” he asked miserably. “I don’t even recall any dreams.”

“Not surprising, my dear. Although I must say I won’t soon forget some of your dreams of romance. It’s not hard to believe that you’re a red dragon. Even your dreams are very fiery.”

“Just shoot me now, Ashling, before I die of humiliation,” Sean grumbled miserably.

Ashling burst into happy laughter and said, “I’m just having a bit of fun with you, Sean. No one can see or hear your dreams unless they climb into your mind while you’re dreaming.”

“Which you promised faithfully not to do,” Sean reminded her.

“I did indeed, so rest easy.”

“At least this time I didn’t blush like a school boy when you teased me,” he said.

“Will wonders never cease,” she said cheerfully.

“I love that smile,” he said. “I figured I might as well say it out loud, since you’d hear my thoughts anyway.”

“Very practical and very Irish of you, dear Sean,” Ashling said.

Chapter Nine

May your troubles be less

And your blessings be more.

And nothing but happiness

Come through your door.

~ Old Irish Saying ~

“But we have no record of seeing vile, dark creatures like these since we brought Rundimahair here centuries ago,” an average height woman with a shapely figure said. “How is it possible they were able to pass through our protective shields?”

The woman who spoke appeared to be in her thirties, and she seemed to wear a perpetual frown. Her name was Shannon Tiernay, and her shoulder-length, dark-black hair was full of soft curls. Shannon’s large brown eyes were her best feature, although they were clouded with frustration and anger tonight.

This was an emergency meeting of the council of twelve, who were charged with keeping Rundimahair safe, prosperous, and fair for all. Among those in attendance were Ashling and Eamon, along with Ailbe’s grandfather, Aengus.

For one of the few times in history, a thirteenth individual was attending the very private meeting. Because he had been a primary participant in the aerial battle of magical creatures, Sean Quinn was an honored guest.

“Dear Shannon, you almost make it sound like we invited them in for dinner,” Aengus said, in his usual calm manner. “None of us are certain how they managed to find their way into Rundimahair.”

“Is that so, Aengus?” Shannon asked doubtfully.

“Unless you’ve discovered a deep and dark secret you aren’t sharing with the rest of the council,” Aengus said patiently.

“I’ve no deep-dark secrets I’m keeping from everyone,” she said indignantly. “Perhaps you’re asking the wrong person about secrets being kept close to the vest,” Shannon added, glaring at Ashling.

“If you’ve got any facts to share with the council, you’d best get them said, Shannon,” Eamon said patiently. “Otherwise, we’ll live without the insinuations and your usual huffy tone.”

“Huffy or no, Eamon, perhaps I’m the only one with the courage to speak their mind,” Shannon said indignantly.

“Sure, and it’s true that you speak your mind often enough, dearie, but it’s also true it’s usually smoke and wind with nary a fact to be found in that head of yours,” a heavy-set, older woman said impatiently.

“You’ll not be talkin’ to me in that tone, Margaret,” Shannon shouted. “Just because you’re happy to kiss their backsides and follow along with the council leadership, it doesn’t mean I’ll be kissin’ along with you.”

“I’m wondering, in my heart of hearts, if the lack of kissing-of any kind-is why you’re such a sour old goat,” Margaret said, smiling wickedly.

Fergus, the aged head of the council, banged his ancient gavel down on his desk and said, “Enough from both of you now. We’re not here to reignite old disagreements. Let’s get back to our purpose and keep it civil,” he added forcefully. “Now is there anyone who has anything pertinent to the discussion at hand?”

“I’m sure I still have the floor!” Shannon shouted indignantly.

“You’ve had your say, such as it is,” Fergus said while staring hard at Shannon. “Take your seat or I’ll have you removed from the meeting, so I will.”

“Well, I’ve never been treated in such a way!” Shannon huffed.

“Therein lies the problem,” Margaret said quietly. Several quiet chuckles could be heard from council members sitting close by.

When Shannon continued to stand defiantly, Fergus sighed and said, “Take your seat or be escorted from the room, Shannon.”

“Wait until my husband hears of this!” Shannon said furiously.

“Better him than us,” Aengus said.

Shannon glared hatefully at Aengus as she grabbed her purse and coat. “You haven’t heard the end of this,” she said haughtily, as she stomped toward the exit doors.

“We all know that well enough,” Eamon said, sighing deeply.

“Why not vote her off the council and be done with it,” Margaret said wearily.

“You know very well that we cannot do any such thing, Margaret, dear,” Fergus said. “Each of the founding clans must be represented on the council.”

“But does it have to be the grumpiest, evil-minded sharpie in the entire O‘Quin clan?” Margaret asked.

“Not if we had a say in it, Fergus said. “But you know as well as I that each clan chooses their own member on the council.”

“Oh aye, we know that well enough,” Margaret said. “I’m convinced they