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Over a thousand years ago a brave band of Knights of the Round Table agreed to enter Morganna’s castle and remove an ancient spell that allowed the sorceress the ability to travel in time. But they had been betrayed, Morganna caught the young men and despite Merlin’s protection, cast a spell upon them that would age them a year for every day they lived as men. Merlin did the only thing he could; he changed the men to horses so they could roam as immortals until someone could break the spell.
For more than one thousand years, the Herdin family was charged with the duty to help the horses and break the spell. Once every hundred years, the signs aligned and another Herdin risked their life to free the knights. This time, Meaghan Herdin’s father, Lord John, is the last surviving male heir in the Herdin line. Will he be able to break the spell or will Morganna and her followers destroy Meaghan’s family?
Set in Ireland in the 18th century, Eochaidh – The Legend of the Horseman, is filled with love, adventure, loyalty and magic.
Chapter Two
The forest was
old, and the magic hidden underneath ancient boughs and wisping over the
rushing rivers and thick meadows was even older. It thrummed beneath
the earth’s surface like a beating drum, and it glistened like early
morning dew on the plants and rocks within its domain. It was alive and
powerful, and sixteen-year-old Meaghan could feel the magic beckon her
as she stood just outside the forest’s borders in the predawn morning.
Dressed
in a loose linen tunic, a plaited leather belt and boy’s tweed breeches
with her auburn tresses braided and tucked up tight in a woolen cap,
she could have passed for a wood nymph—slender, petite and nearly
blending into the forest around her. But, upon a closer examination, you
could see she was not tranquil enough to be a creature of the forest. A
few copper strands of hair escaped her cap, and her green eyes sparkled
like the mist-covered moss. Her skin was fair, and she had a smattering
of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She held a long, sturdy
walking stick in her hand, and her feet were bound in fine leather boots
that helped her move soundlessly in her surroundings.
Shivering
in the cool morning air, she inhaled the sweet nectar of the old magic,
but waited carefully outside its borders. She looked up impatiently,
watching as the sky above her transformed from night to day, turning
from dark grey to soft lavender, as thin shrouds of clouds replaced the
last few stars. Turning, she looked back across the path she had just
taken. The spires of the stone manor house were beginning to glow with
the pinkish-gold hue of sunrise. Slowly the shadows of night withdrew
as the tide of light made its way over the slate tiles, like a wave
slipping onto the shore. It swept over the house and onto the manicured
grounds. Spilling forward, it followed her path across the lawn, over
the fence and across the meadow. It revealed her walking path through
the thick wild flowers and clover, a thin line of darker green where the
grass had been crushed. Finally, it reached the edge of the forest.
Meaghan lifted her face, closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun
seep into her skin. She inhaled deeply. She loved the unique scent of
the forest, the moist, rich smell of earth, the spicy scent of pine and
the musty combination of old and new plant growth. Slowly opening her
eyes, like a sleepy cat, she sighed with the pleasure of the moment.
But
a rustle in the woods behind her reminded her of her task, and, with a
little regret, she turned from the warmth and faced the woods. Waiting
until the glow of the early morning sunlight glimmered on the path and
gilded the leaves of the trees in front of her, she finally took her
first step inside. She knew enough of the stories and legends of the
forest to not enter its lands until the sun had lit the sky. Those fae
creatures that dwelled here, although harmless enough during the day,
were focused on mischief and mayhem when the lesser stars and the moon
ruled the sky.
She smiled to
herself. With her leather satchel of supplies hitched over her shoulder,
she had set out early that morning to construct a little mischief and
mayhem of her own.
Moving farther
into the forest, she felt the same welcoming sensation she always felt
within the borders of the dark woods. Although most from the village
avoided the mystic area, Meaghan had always felt a protective spirit
within its confines, as if she was coming home.
Birds
swept through the sky above her, darting from tree to tree, welcoming
the new day. From the high-pitched trill of a waxwing to the soft
purring of the turtledove to the hoarse call of a crow, their songs
filled the air in a discordant symphony that reminded Meaghan of the
ware-hawkers at the village market. Cherries for sale, cherries for sale. Buy a posy for your lady, buy a posy for your lady. Cold ale, cold ale. Grinning
as she pictured the villagers’ reactions to the birds wearing aprons
and hopping around the square selling their goods, she decided it would
probably be wiser for them to remain in their forest home.
As she moved farther in, timid but curious forest dwellers, like deer
and rabbit, paused for just a moment to observe the intruder and then
darted away into the thick old growth leaving no trace of having been
there a moment ago.
Although the
main path through the forest was well used, a wide, worn strip of brown
pounded earth, the path Meaghan choose was covered with a green carpet
of moss that rolled over stones, logs and ground and with very little
evidence of being used at all. She walked carefully but quickly on the
grassy moss, moving from stone to log to stone again with a dancer’s
dexterity, grabbing onto tree trunks and thick vines to help her keep
her balance.
The path angled
downward, heading toward the bank of the river. That was her goal, the
clearing just before the river. There was a score to settle that
morning, and, she decided with a determined nod, she would be the one to
do it.
Pausing in her walk, she
felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and realized that everything
around her was now silent. All of the birds that had just moments
before filled the air with a cacophony all their own, had hushed their
calls. Even the wind had slowed. The forest seemed to be holding its
breath. Meaghan paused in her descent and waited for a moment. Then she
heard it and understood. The faint tinkling sound was carried on the
barest of breezes, like bells disturbed by the wind.
Her
heart pounded in excitement. No wonder the earthly creatures had
hushed. The fae were speaking. Green fairies were about. She had been
told about the green fairies, how they tended to the flowers and plants
in the forest. They sang as they worked, their voices like tiny pure
chimes, and their morning song was a rare treat. Watching them work was
even more rare. She looked back over her shoulder to the rising sun.
Surely she had time enough to find them before she put forth her plan.
Placing
her satchel and walking stick at the base of a giant, old oak, she
walked to the edge of the path. The green fell away to a small ravine,
its sides covered with browning vines and exposed roots. Because of the
thick vegetation below, she really couldn’t judge the distance down but
guessed it was about twelve feet, too far to jump. Sitting down on the
edge, her feet dangling, she grabbed hold of a root and tugged. It
seemed solid enough.
Turning so
her belly was against the edge, she dug her feet into the dirt wall and,
using the root like a rope, began to lower herself down. Her first
couple of steps down were easy, and Meaghan felt her confidence grow. “Not so bad,” she thought, sliding her hands slowly down the moss-slick root. “I can handle this.”
Just
then, one of her feet slipped, and she found herself slapped against
the wall of the ravine. Her face crushed against dirt and rock, and she
lost her grip on the root. Tumbling down, she desperately grabbed onto
anything to slow her descent. Leaves, pebbles, dirt and brush scraped
against her hands and face as she fell. Finally, she wrapped her hand
around a thick vine and slowed her fall. She desperately reached for
the vine with her other hand and then dangled in mid-air for a moment
while she caught her breath and spit dirt and twigs from her mouth.
“Well, that was not quite what I had in mind,” she said, taking a deep
breath. “I wonder how far down I still have to go.”
Testing
her grasp on the vine before she moved, she finally glanced down and
sighed. She released the vine and jumped the six inches down to the
bottom of the ravine. “That was brilliant,” she whispered, mocking
herself. “I’m sure the fairy folk enjoyed that display immensely.”
But,
not all the fairy folk had been paying attention to her escapade
because, once paused, Meaghan could still hear the green fairy song.
They were still busy at work. Creeping slowly forward, Meaghan slipped
inside a patch of tall ferns. Sliding between the feathery leaves and
dodging the large rocks on the ground, she moved closer to the sound.
She had never seen a green fairy before. She had only heard their songs
in the distance.
She had seen
other members of the fae before; the wood elves were a fairly common
sighting with their copper skin and mahogany hair as were the water
sprites, although they were a little harder to find with their
translucent blue skin and dark green hair that looked like seaweed. She
thought she saw a goblin once, but she turned and ran before she could
be sure. And she knew she had heard a banshee just before her old nanny
had died.
Even though she was
excited about possibly catching a glimpse of the green fairies, there
was one creature she longed to see more than any of the others. The
Eochaidh. The enchanted wild horses who legend tells had once been men.
But no one, not even the woodsmen in the village, talked about seeing
them in their travels. Perhaps they were just a legend and not as real
as the other fae in the woods.
Unlike
most of Britain, the people in this Irish village spoke of the fae on a
regular basis, simply because there were all kinds of fae that actually
lived in the woods and the surrounding countryside. Meaghan learned as a
child it was because these woods used to be a favorite of Merlin the
wizard, when he was not near Camelot. The older villagers said he left
some of his magic in it when he disappeared thousands of years ago. She
liked that she could feel the magic; it was like Merlin was still there.
The
plants had thinned out in front of her; she was closer to the clearing.
Carefully, spreading the final bunch of leaves apart, she peered into
it. Something making a buzzing sound like a bumblebee flew at her, and
she nearly jumped back. But, at the last moment, she froze as the
creature hung in the air, pausing not more than four inches in front of
her face, its wings flitting so quickly she could only see a blur.
Human and fairy gazed at each other, both staring in awe at this
wonderful discovery.
Meaghan’s
eyes widened in delight and her smile broadened in wonderment. The tiny
creature looked like a miniature woman, dressed in a leaf-green sheath
and tiny shoes the color of tree bark. Her skin was light green, her
large eyes were the color of oak leaves in the fall, and her hair was
maple-leaf red.
The fairy flitted
closer, one tiny hand extended, and lightly touched Meaghan’s nose and
then darted quickly back. Meaghan stood still and waited, her breathing
measured and slow. She didn’t want to frighten it off. The tiny fairy
buzzed around her, uncertain of this unfamiliar forest creature, and
then finally approached the girl again. Slowly, with both hands
extended, the fairy flew forward and touched Meaghan’s cheek, pushing
off immediately and flying back several feet. The touch was like a
butterfly’s kiss.
A smile lit on
the tiny face and she did it again, flying forward and pushing back. She
giggled, the sound like a tiny bell, and smiled at Meaghan. Delighted,
Meaghan smiled back wondering if the fairy would stand on her palm.
Slowly
lifting her hand and raising her palm to the sky, Meaghan waited,
holding her breath. The fairy came forward and hovered over her open
hand as if she was deciding. Finally she dove forward, pushed off from
Meaghan’s cheek and soared into the sky, her faint laughter echoing in
the trees.
Meaghan watched her
until she disappeared into the leaves of the trees. With a satisfied
sigh, she turned and quickly headed back to the path. She had a lot to
accomplish in a short amount of time.
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