Some of the story contains violence and sometimes, soft, sometimes harsh sex between women.
There is also rape of a woman by men. If you are under the age of 18, please leave now.
Beginning
By Morgan, Kaie, Nessa,
Caitlin, Killian
July, 2004
New Direction on an Old Road
By Nessa
The forest was alive with buzzes and bird trills. Nessa sat on the ground, her back against the large trunk of an old
oak. Sometimes she felt like the forest was all she could really trust. There was no escape in sleep these days.
Memory made a stand and would not move away. The warrior knew what she had to live with. Why was she plagued so
by her own thoughts now?
Nessa rolled her wild-haired head back and let it rest against the gnarled trunk. She chose to spend most of the
Spring-time riding Tuttle and walking the mountain trails. She wrapped herself in the aloneness she understood.
Nessa felt there was little to trust in the people of this world where cruelty sprang from the hearts of those most
close. Killian never meant that Nessa should suffer. The warrior was sure of that. Perhaps it was because of that
sureness that she now allowed herself the memory of deliberate betrayals. The pain, pounded within her. The Celt
closed her eyes in quiet homage to the Goddess of memory and entered a silent plea. She did not know if it was sleep
that took her or if her petition for an answer was heard.
In her mind, Nessa was back in her younger days as a newly trained warrior and Druid. The Druid training was chosen
for her by Aife, the great teacher of horsewomen and Warrior Queen of the Scottish Isle of Shadow. Warrior
status was much more exciting and fitting for Nessa. Still, Aife insisted that the young Celt needed the teachings of
the Druids to maintain a balance in her skills. Aife was legendary as invulnerable to everything but fast horses and
horsewomen. A smile touched the sleeping Celt’s lips as she recalled the pleasures of being taken in Aife’s bed.
But war drew Nessa and Aife knew it. She sent the strapping young warrior to Brigantes, the largest tribe in
Brittania where Cartimandua ruled as Queen and resisted the pressing forces of the Romans. The Queen’s Gaelic
name, Cartimandua meant “sleek pony” for she too was trained by Aife.
It was not long before Nessa’s ferocity and skill in battle was noticed by the Queen who summoned the young warrior
to her. Cartimandua was drawn by the dark sexuality of this one and was soon finding her face in the pillow while being
brutally fucked in her own tender ass. This was after a sound strapping of her behind to ready them both for further
pleasure and pain.
Nessa knew that Cartimandua was not to be owned and she did not try it. Theirs was but a trivial affair while all-
important battles were planned and fought and won, for the most part. Still, Nessa felt a closeness she thought of as
love in a way only those who faced death each day could know it. It was also quite the most wonderful thing to her that
she could return from battle in that haze brought on by the fighting and was able to storm the Queen with the rage of
it.
Nessa was stunned when the incredible Queen Boudicca of the Iceni was refused her request that the Brigantes join
forces with her against the Romans. The young warrior watched the proud Boudicca turn from where Cartimandua
sat in the Queen’s hall. Boudicca walked with a straight back and never cast a glance toward the ground. Later, in the
Queen’s bed chambers, Nessa challenged Cartimandua. “Why, Cart? The Iceni are a proud and noble tribe. They
fight the enemy with valor and never give up.”
“They are in my way. That Queen of theirs is too power-hungry. Once you share it, more and more is wanted.”
“What? They are Celts with their own lands. Together we could crush the Roman forces.” Nessa said. But a bitter
shadow crossed over the face of the Queen and Nessa knew she spoke outside her place. Just then, the Queen’s
handmaiden came in. She carried a basin filled with fresh water and towels draped over an arm. Nessa held her tongue
while the lass put these things down and asked the Queen if there was anything else she could do for her.
Cart shifted her angry gaze from Nessa to the young woman. The girl’s name was Morgan. Her services came as a gift
from Caracticus, a rebel from a neighboring tribe, who also wanted an alliance with the Queen. Cart accepted the gift
but held Caracticus at bay with the promise to consider an alliance. Meanwhile, Morgan served the Queen well. In
fact she became as close to this Queen as any ever had. The two shared confidences and laughter and other things
known to friends. Morgan’s love for Cartimandua was built on trust and what she thought was mutual caring. But
these were misconceptions in the extreme. Queen Cartimandua actually hated Morgan for the trust the young
handmaiden felt and gave with unchallenged love, even after numerous cruelties.
“Yes” answered the Queen, “there is something more you can do.” Cart lifted a corner of her mouth in a sneer and
said, “I want you to strip for me and my warrior.” She turned to the astonished Nessa and said, “Get the strap,
warrior. Whip her hard and long. I need entertainment.” Cart moved to the pile of furs on her bed and sat to watch the
now trembling Morgan bare her sweet young body.
Nessa was not sure if this was something she wanted. She always saw a different side to Cart. It seemed that lately,
the Queen was secretive and withdrawn. What was she thinking? But Nessa lost the questioning and the worry when
she saw the naked lass standing before her with head and eyes lowered in submission. Desire shot to the core of the
young warrior and pulsed hot through her veins. This new thought of whipping this beauty and fucking her hard in
front of Cart brought the basest sensations to new heights. Nessa walked to the edge of the room where the strap
she used on Cart hung on it’s hook awaiting a new young and naked ass to welt.
tbc
Nessa
PART 2
Morgan looked up from where she stood naked and shivering. She peered directly into the warrior’s steely gray eyes.
There was not yet anything Morgan would not forgive of her Queen and dear friend. But that may be about to
change if she was right about what was happening. Cartimandua was cruel on many levels but this, to the young Celtic
tribeswoman, was without comprehension. To allow this red-haired, phallus-wearing warrior to whip and violate her in
such a vile way spoke of disdain… not love. Morgan quickly rallied the pride of Self that was taught to every Celt from
birth. Her countenance changed from the look of a frightened deer to that of a wild, angry mare.
Nessa stopped her advance in mid-stride. Something dangerous emanated from the lass. A voice heard only by
Nessa said, “Druid, stand down. This Queen is traitorous and she has made us both puppets. Look at us. She is
playing as a cat plays with a captured mouse. Do you want to be a mouse, warrior?” Nessa remembered Boudicca and
why the Celtic nation was fighting. Realizing that Cartimandua was somehow aligning with the Romans while her
Celtic kin were dying, the warrior dropped the strap and drew her sword.
The Queen stood quickly when she saw Nessa’s action. “I said whip her, not kill her!” Apparently Cart was not aware
of the exchange between the two women nor the change in them. It was not until Nessa turned and held the blade
toward her that Cart understood. She shifted her gaze from Nessa to Morgan and back to Nessa. “You betray me?”
she said incredulous.
“You betray me and every Celt living and dying.” Nessa countered. “Quickly” she said to Morgan, “get dressed and
get horses. You will know mine. She will come at the mention of my name.”
Queen Cartimandua twisted her face in stifled rage and spat to Morgan, “Where do you think you will go, you
sniveling little slave? Maybe you think your brother, Caracticus will protect you. I forgot to mention, Morgan… his
head is propped on a Roman spear as we speak. He dances with the dead and you will join him for your impudence!”
Nessa heard the lass gasp in shock. They could not afford the time to grieve or argue. “She lies, Morgan, hurry!” she
said. She heard the lass move. She had to rely on her senses because she dared not take her eyes from Cartimandua.
Nessa held her sword close to the Queen’s breast.
“Why do you not kill me, dear warrior? Is it because you know I could make you mine and together we could rule under
the protection of Rome? Don’t you see, Nessa? Rome will have it’s way one way or another. We can join them and
prosper” Cart wheedled.
Nessa thought of something her Druid Master once said. There will be times, again and again, when you will struggle
with the effort to understand people. Remember this: To understand, you must go where they are… not where you
want them to be. The proud Celt saw who and what Cart was, at last. She felt pity but did not let go of the courage
to do what she had to do. Even if she could not see herself killing the Queen she once followed she would be a
renegade without a tribe in these lands.
Cart could not read the warrior’s face. “I could scream and all of my army would be here.”
“And you would lose your head before a sound escaped from your lying mouth” Nessa breathed. Suddenly the
warrior moved her sword aside and wrapped her free arm around Cartimandua, drawing the surprised Queen in. Nessa
kissed Cart long and hard then suddenly jammed the hilt of her sword into the base of the Queen’s head.
Cart’s body went limp in Nessa’s embrace. Nessa lowered the betrayer to the furs they once made love on. She
adjusted the body of the unconscious woman to make her appear to be sleeping. “Goodbye” she whispered and left
the chamber. Emotion stampeded through her. She was sad and she was enraged. She was hurt and she was afraid.
The fear was for her people. She felt that Cart’s claim of the death of Morgan’s brother was more than likely a true
one. The warrior stepped outside the Queen’s lodge into the bright sun. She grasped the arm of the Chief Warrior
of the Brigantes who was preparing to enter the Queen’s lodge and said, “I’d not be goin’ in there just yet. The
Queen is… restin’.” The younger warrior grinned broadly and winked. She watched understanding spread over the
face of the Chief who chuckled and assented that it may be best to wait a while.
Morgan was mounted on a beautiful black mare. She saw Nessa talking to the Chief in low tones and held back
before riding up with Nessa’s horse, Tuttle in tow. She wondered if the warrior killed Queen Cartimandua. The
tribeswoman truly hoped not. She would wait to see if her brother, Caracticus lived. If she found that he died at the
hands of the Romans through the betrayal of Cartimandua, she would fly on the wind to get back here and kill the
Queen herself.
tbc
Nessa
Part 3
Nessa kept as close behind Morgan as possible. The lass rode hard and seemed to know just where she was going.
They reached the top of a rise when Morgan reined in quickly. Just down on the other side was a small encampment.
Smoke swirled with the breeze. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Nessa realized from the look of stark horror on
the lass’ face, that this was where her brother must have been camped. Caracticus was not unknown among
Cartimandua’s ranks. He was respected as a loyal Celt and a fierce fighter.
Together the two riders cantered into the encampment. It was horrible. In the center, surrounded by burned out tents
and fallen debris, was a pile of burnt human flesh and bones. Just in front of the heinous collection of charred human
bodies was a spear sticking up from the earth with the head of Caracticus mounted on it’s blade. The face was
contorted as if agony was the last known experience. Morgan stared at the hideous thing for only a moment before
she let go of a keening wail that nearly lifted Nessa right off her saddle.
Nessa dismounted and pulled Morgan off the horse and into her arms. “Alright, lass I am here with ye.” The warrior
said in a low voice. She knew the pain of this kind of loss. But more, she knew the rage at the betrayal and the
betrayer. “We’ll not be letting this pass, Morgan. But for now we have to take care… of… the dead.” Nessa was
grateful that Morgan allowed her to lead her to a thicket just beyond the burned out compound. “Stay here” she
instructed as she lowered the bereaved young woman to the ground “I will take great care to prepare a proper pyre for
your brother and the other loyal Celts. But the enemy is all around, lass. Cartimandua will know we came here. She
will follow us. And her friends, the Romans will stand with her.”
“You did not kill her!” Morgan said suddenly, revealing her surprise at the welcome truth.
“No, I did not. Stay still now until I return.” Nessa turned away but stopped abruptly when stricken by the realization
that leaving Morgan alone with this shock may be foolish. She turned back. Already Morgan was on her feet to flee
toward Queen Cartimandua’s camp and slice the traitorous murderer down to her knees.
“Wait, lass!” Nessa yelled.
Morgan hesitated only a moment then spoke as she walked. “You can come to watch out for me while I kill her or you
may run another way. I care not, warrior.”
Nessa liked the bravery of the lass but not the rashness. “The brave Caracticus would not have you die at the hands
of the traitor queen, Morgan.” That stopped the grieving blaze of a woman for long enough. She turned back to face
this young woman warrior. Nessa saw the immensity of Morgan’s pain. “It is enough that he died by her betrayal” she
continued. “We must go to Queen Boudicca. She has force and she is loyal to the Celtic people. This betrayal will
not sit well with her, lass but first she must know.”
There was no time now to bury nor properly burn Caracticus. Cartimandua and her warriors would be getting close.
Nessa wondered if any of them even suspected betrayal from the queen they gave their loyalty to. Nessa’s own pain
swelled up in her. The entire Brigantes tribe was fighting and dying in token to the Romans. Brave warriors were
going down in bloody battle for a showing. Nessa remembered wondering more than once what reasoning Cart had
for sending out such small patrols. But the young warrior was enamored of her charms. It was not for Nessa to
question the Queen’s tactics. Meanwhile the Roman forces entered the land in secret.
Morgan allowed the sense of Nessa’s plan to filter through. She would have audience with Boudicca. Then she
would do what her heart told her she must do. She walked to what were the recognizable remains of Caracticus and
said, “You will be avenged, brother. I will go to my grave knowing that you are at last at peace. Our people will not die
out. We will rise and rise again through the ages. I will see you next time around.”
The two women quickly mounted and spurred off toward the cover of the forest and in the direction of Boudicca’s
people, the Iceni. They were out of sight before the angry Cartimandua brought her army down on the already
destroyed encampment.
Cartimandua seethed in heated rage. “Find them!” she bellowed. “Don’t come back without them.”
The Chief Warrior, McFinn dispersed parties of seven or eight warriors in every direction. He would go back to the
Brigantes camp with the sullen Cartimandua. He did not know how to comfort her except to show his loyalty.
McFinn was appalled at the sight of this horrid treatment of Celtic people. But he did not question his Queen even
after he witnessed her careless disregard of this slaughter while gazing all around for that red-headed fuck-piece of a
woman warrior who ran away with the tribeswoman, Morgan. He could never quite see beyond the magnificence of
Cartimandua. McFinn would see many more of his brave people die before he understood the treachery of this
Queen.
tbc
Nessa
Part 4
It was Morgan who knew the lay of this land. Nessa followed galloping behind through forest and over plain. Her own
home stood on the island somewhere south of Britannia, some called Eire as green and fair as the emerald. All Nessa
knew was that they were headed south toward Lutin where the Iceni dwelled in peace until the Romans came. Boudicca
ruled supreme with the aid and advisory of Druids. She held her people together with her belief in them and her love of
the race.
The young Celtic warrior, Nessa ached from the stab-wound of betrayal from Cartimandua. As the two horsewomen
thundered onward, Nessa tried hard to wrap her mind around this first real blow to her faith in another. It would color
all other loyalties with the tint of dark, brooding suspicion for a long time to come.
Grudgingly, the escaping duo stopped for no more than a short rest and a chance for their horses to drink from a
stream that ran through the Avon Forest. Morgan dipped a cupped hand in the clear running stream and drank it
down. She pulled the water-skin from her side and dunked it into the water for filling. All the while she felt the
wondering gaze from Nessa who stood at the edge of the stream with the horses as they drank. “You have questions
of me warrior?” Morgan asked without looking at Nessa, her hands and mind focused on the simple task of tying the
water-skin to her belt.
“You spoke to my mind and your mouth never moved. Your voice called me ‘Druid’ yet, I never once spoke with you or
any other in that company about my training on the Isle of Shadow. How did you know, Morgan?”
Now Morgan turned and stood to face the warrior. “I knew because the queen loved to talk about you while she was
pleasuring herself with me in her bed. She said you came to her from the Isle of Shadow where she believed you were
fully trained. Few warriors leave that island having come through the discipline of the Druids. Few are ‘fully trained’. It
was simple. Besides, I watched you more than once divining the outcome on the eve before a battle.” Morgan said
softly. She tossed her wild dark hair back and attempted to tame it with a strand of leather.
Nessa reached for the leather strand taking it from Morgan’s small, strong hand. “Let me braid your hair showing you
as the warrior you are, Morgan.” Nessa stepped behind Morgan and quickly weaved the shiny black tresses together
in the trade-mark braid of the Ancients. Then, turning the small, muscular woman around by her shoulders, she gazed
into the powerful eyes of a Celtic Warrior Priestess and said, “Perhaps I would have understood more about what I
was divining if I was not blinded by my hunger for the queen” Nessa said sadly.
Morgan’s demeanor softened. “None of us wanted to believe it, Nessa. Just look at the brave McFinn. He sends his
warriors out in small parties to be slaughtered by the Romans every day on the orders of Cartimandua. Still he does
this.” Morgan’s eyes seemed to shift in color from hazel to green. “In fact, there is one band of six approaching now.
We must hurry!”
As much as Nessa hated to run from a battle, especially one she knew she could not lose while Morgan was at her side,
she understood that these were not the enemy. They were Celts and honor-bound to their queen. Nessa would not
kill her own kind unless it became impossible to do otherwise. Quickly, the pair leaped to their horses and sped into the
stream. They rode upstream for a bit before turning onto the shore. It would slow anyone tracking them.
Together they rode as if carried on wings of wind. They reached the borders of the Iceni before the Sun settled
behind the Earth. After speaking to the border guards of the death of Caracticus and his entire tribe, Morgan and
Nessa were escorted through the territory of the Iceni to gain audience with Queen Boudicca.
They entered a large hut-like structure where they saw at least fifty warriors and people of high station sitting in a
large half circle. In the center of the Ark, lifting a goblet to her lips was Boudicca, Warrior Queen of the Iceni. She
stopped just short of drinking when she saw the two refugees enter. She leaned over to her side to hear the whisper of
the Druid beside her. Suddenly, Boudicca stood up and raised her goblet to the pair. The room fell silent watching
the queen. “Iceni… I give you Morgan, sister of Caracticus. She is the last of her tribe to survive the treachery of the
Romans.” Boudicca spoke softly to the younger woman before her. “We know of the treachery surrounding the
death of your brother. We were peaceful tribes before the Romans came.
Morgan stood proud before the Iceni Queen and said. “Do you know how the Romans found him and every other
small pocket of fighting Celts?”
“Tell us, Morgan”
“The queen of the Brigantes, Cartimandua, finds comfort and safety in the arms of the Roman armies while they
slaughter her people… and all Celtic tribes. She has betrayed us all.” Morgan’s proud eyes filled with tears as she
spoke.
Boudicca’s expressive face revealed her emotion but she kept her queenly composure long enough to turn to the
Druid who sat beside her with horrified question in her eyes. The tattoo covering half his face told of his high rank
among the priests of the Celts. He stood up after a moment of his spirit’s flight from the room and back again. Nessa
and Morgan may have been the only two in the company to recognize the action.
He was known as Albion “the mountain” loved and respected among the Iceni. He peered into Nessa and asked,
“She is vengeful toward you, young warrior, why?”
Nessa felt every eye in the large room on her. She felt ripped open by the question. The young lover of the traitor
queen saw no way out but to answer.
tbc
Nessa
Part 5
He was known as Albion “the mountain” loved and respected among the Iceni. He peered into Nessa and asked,
“She is vengeful toward you, young warrior, why?”
Nessa felt every eye in the large room on her. She felt ripped open by the question. The young lover of the traitor
queen saw no way out but to answer.
___***___
Nessa knew that Albion understood clearly why Cartimandua was seeking vengeance on her. He wanted to see how
the younger Druid would handle the question. Nessa decided on the truth before it was a question. She stepped
forward with shoulders straight and head high. “Cartimandua called me to her bed. She loves a rough hand and has
desire for pain in sex. I pleasured her and myself many times by fucking her from behind. She seeks vengeance because
I choose the lives of our people over her incessant screams for more.”
The silence of the room was marked by an almost palpable mass intake of this information. Beginning with a chuckle
from Albion, laughter from the crowd rose to near deafening heights. Boudicca wiped tears of laughter from her face
before raising a hand to demand silence. “Thank you for your… honesty and for your faithfulness to our people. Give
us your name, warrior.”
Nessa stepped forward, drew her sword, held it toward Boudicca and proudly answered “I am Nessa from Eire, taught
warfare and horse-skill by Aife from the Isle of Shadow.” She brought her fisted sword hilt to her heart and said “I
give my sword to your service, Queen of the great Iceni.”
The queen smiled and said, “Nessa ‘the ungentle’, aptly named I would say. I accept your sword and your service,
though not in the fashion of Cartimandua.” More laughter ensued. But then Boudicca spoke seriously. “This is not
an easy task we have before us. We cannot allow the Romans to continue to spill Celtic blood, yet how do we pull her
loyal ranks away?”
Morgan stepped forward. “May I offer a thought on the matter, Queen Boudicca?” The queen nodded her consent.
Morgan said, “The tribes who follow Cartimandua are not all made up of warriors. They are farmers and children and
mothers and sons and wives and husbands of warriors. They are left to contain the home-sites… the home-sites that
burn at the hands of the Romans. These people can be spoken to without fear of treachery. They already suspect
their queen’s betrayal. Get to them and bring them in, their warriors will follow.” Morgan’s rich voice resonated with
both sound and meaning.
Boudicca turned her eyes to her advisor. Albion stood quietly for a moment. Sorrow for Morgan’s pain was replaced
by respect for her reason. “She speaks wisely. We can send small emissaries to every village. If we can convince just a
few, we will be saving many more” he said. His eyes never left those of the warrior woman, Morgan, whose spirit shined
around her like a beacon from Avalon.
Boudicca dismissed the roomful of celebrants except for Cahan her Chief of Warriors, Albion, Morgan and Nessa.
The five Celts all sat on fur-lined chairs in a circle appearing somehow odd but fierce with common loyalty and waited
for Boudicca to speak. After a few moments she said, “If it is the common folk who must be convinced, it will be
common folk who will convince them.” She looked at Nessa and Cahan and said, “You will go with Morgan. You must
have your weapons hidden beneath the cloaks and furs of common dress except for the dagger that is a signature of
every Celt from childhood. Pick several of our warriors to do the same. Speak with the eldest of whatever village you
enter. Tell them who you are and why you are there. They must convince whomever they can to make haste to the lands
of the Iceni.” The queen paused and set her gaze on Morgan. “Once the people disperse from the lands of Brigantes
and come to us, the ranks of Cartimandua’s warriors will falter from their loyalty.” Boudicca’s eyes squinted slightly.
“I knew when I saw her she did not love her own people. It is comfort and power she loves” she said.
Albion spoke. “The alliance we desired from the Queen of the Brigantes will come from the Brigantes themselves
while their queen languishes in Roman luxury. She will lose all of her own spirit while she gains riches. Already, her
depravity eats her soul.” He looked at Nessa. “It is good that you are a Druid as well, Nessa the ungentle.
Otherwise, you might have sunken into the same emptiness of spirit. Go now and do your duty to your new and true
queen of Celts.”
tbc
Nessa
Part 6
Cahan was a fierce warrior with the pride that went with it. It was easy to see how difficult it was for him to wear the
plain clothes of the people after striving in battle to win his way to the place of Chief of Warriors to the Iceni. Never
the less, Cahan rode forth as a farmer because his queen asked it of him. The feel of hard steel hidden under his
ragged cloak was a comfort to him since Romans were plundering freely in Brigantes. How he would love to surprise a
few of them.
Nessa was grateful that the Celtic women, unlike the Roman women, more often than not, wore breeches and plaid
sashes across their chests. The foggy weather made cloaks suitable so that her sword, like Cahan’s and Morgan’s
could be well hidden beneath them. Morgan was less opposed to a long, full skirt. Her fur boots held her best
weapons, two daggers.
The three rode to the Brigantes border with four other parties of disguised warriors where they separated to seek
out their designated villages. Each party was instructed to be as discreet as possible and to return swiftly. None
were trained in this kind of warfare but all were aware of the reasoning. The Celts of Brigantes were being
slaughtered little by little, village by village and their queen was part of it.
The first village that Morgan and her two companions entered seemed empty until Cahan spotted a child in a doorway,
then a few people started to appear as it was apparent that the visitors were not Romans. An old woman with staff in
hand hobbled to the side of Morgan’s horse. She looked up at Morgan “You are Fianna! You have come for us!”
Nessa recognized the name, Fianna. It meant “warrior of the people” in the Ancient world. She was not surprised
when Morgan jumped from her horse and hugged the old one. “Yes, old mother. Gather the people of your village and
go to the Iceni border where you will be welcomed.” The old one kissed the hand of the mysterious Morgan and moved
on to call her people together.
Village after village it was the same. The countrymen and women were in hiding, awaiting new raids and slaughter with
no help from their own army. Some warriors walked away from Cartimandua’s ranks to return home in hope to help
however they could. Apparently the queen’s army was dissolving and losing loyalty to her while she bedded the Roman
aristocracy. This bitter disloyalty toward the traitorous queen proved all the better for Boudicca’s plan. They came
to Iceni willingly and in force. Mountain border guards worked in astonishment as they passed out bread and dried
meat to the hoards of refugees entering their land.
Cartimandua was sure it was the fault of Morgan and the warrior, Nessa that her people and her own army were
deserting her. When she sent her bands of warriors out to stop the exodus she lost those warriors too. These were
the warriors who came to their own villages and found them burned, sacked and destroyed. If they found anyone alive,
they heard the truth that the Romans came and killed at will while no Celtic warriors from Cartimandua were sent to
protect them. These were the warriors who were sent to false fronts in small bands to die at the hands of the Roman
army instead of protecting their own people. No wonder that they banded together and protected the line of
refugees from the disgruntled Roman raiders who came to find easy booty and instead, found fierce death growing
larger by the day.
Boudicca was overcome with joy at this display of loyalty to race. She ordered the Iceni to welcome the Brigantes in
every way possible. Large lodges were built to house the incoming Celts of Brigantes. Small portions of lands and
animals were given up so that planting grain and raising sheep could be easily done. The Iceni were gracious and in
return, every man, woman and child who could fight the Roman enemy would do it. The Queen of the Iceni asked for
loyalty so that they could crush the enemy. Within a season more than two thirds of the Brigantes became Iceni.
Another neighboring tribe from the North known as the Trinovantes also joined the warrior Queen of the Iceni.
At last, Queen Boudicca had an army numbering over 100,000. Boudicca made no secret that her hatred of the
Romans was due to the atrocities done, not only to the Celtic nations, but to her own family. First, when her husband,
Prasutagus died suddenly, the Romans tried to over-take Iceni land. When the queen resisted, Roman soldiers were
ordered to flog the queen and rape her two daughters, Comorra and Tasca in front of her. Yes, this was a queen out
for vengeance and now she would have it.
Morgan understood that need for vengeance but somewhere within her she saw no wisdom in it. She was indeed a
Fianna of the Ancients. This was only one body of so many that hosted her. Lifetime after lifetime she came and went
and came again for so very long even she could hardly remember when she started. Celts were still wearing fur on their
feet and covering their bodies with it. Stone was fashioned into weapons. They were nomadic and lived in caves. Now
they drove chariots and forged steel to kill with. Now they built huts and lodges for inhabiting. Now they claimed
little pieces of the Earth and went to war for their claims. The one saving grace as Morgan thought about it was their
belief in the Goddess of all life and revering Her. Druidism kept the faith alive and led the people with wisdom. The
Fianna’s thoughts were interrupted by one of the less wise but full-of-potential Druids, Nessa the ungentle.
“So quiet today, Morgan. The villages throughout the Iceni prepare for victory over the Romans and the traitorous
Cartimandua. Your brother’s death will be avenged at last and you sit alone by the stream as if it all meant nothing”
Nessa said softly. The warrior wanted Morgan. She never suggested anything but wanted her all the same.
“Oh, it means something” Morgan replied. “It means death and more death. But you are a warrior who loves battle as
do all good Celts.” Morgan stood and faced the tall woman before her. “Tomorrow you will ride with the army to
Comulodunum where you will slaughter every Roman in sight. None will be left alive. It will be a great victory and all
your training on the Isle of Shadow will have meaning at last.” Morgan saw the warrior gaze across her body. She felt
the lust pounding in that brave heart. “Why do you hesitate, Nessa? Will you not take me on the eve of such a battle?”
tbc
Nessa
Part 7
Morgan saw the warrior gaze across her body. She felt the lust pounding in that brave heart. “Why do you hesitate,
Nessa? Will you not take me on the eve of such a battle?”
___***___
Nessa was stunned. This one was an anomaly. At the warrior’s first sight of the woman, she appeared to be no more
than a handmaiden to a lust-driven, power-hungry queen. Then she turned out to be sister to a great tribal chief and
who could speak to Nessa’s mind. Next she was ready to strike Cartimandua to the ground in revenge and now spoke
of death as if it were a weight carried through centuries. When the opportunity came to speak to Queen Boudicca,
Morgan spoke with a wisdom that seemed beyond her age. Yet when they went to villages, the people referred to her
as Fianna. Fianna was the persona of the warrior spirit who protects the people. Living through centuries in different
bodies, meant she was wise and ancient.
Nessa did have to admit to herself that the body this Fianna chose was luscious. After weeks of watching her and
working to make the Brigantes at home in the land of the Iceni, the young warrior had a hankering that lingered into her
dreams at night. She woke up soaked in her breeches from the dreams she had of Morgan. Still, until this very moment,
Morgan never gave one sign that Nessa was anyone more than a worker among workers. Now she was actually
expecting the warrior to “take” her with all the desire she had built into a raging blaze.
Morgan lifted a hand up to cradle the side of Nessa’s face. The feel of it was like watching over the meadows of time,
like home and smells of fresh baked bread, like celebration at the birth of a new clan child, all happiness and comfort.
Nessa closed her eyes. She felt warm softness press against her while a small, powerful hand pulled her head down
from the back of her neck. She felt Morgan’s breath hot in her ear. She heard the whispering invitation calling to her
body and soul. Morgan moved away and walked toward her hut. Nessa followed like an enchanted child.
Once inside the hut, Nessa looked around. The simplicity was striking. She would have thought a woman this
beautiful would be more vain and have personal things like jewelry and polished goblets. Then she heard the voice in
her mind. “No, warrior, I learned long ago not to get caught in the trap of worshiping what one owns. I do have a simple
chair, however. Please sit and watch while I remove my clothes for you.” Nessa sunk down onto the chair.
Morgan began a tapping of her feet on the floor. She twirled around and clapped her hands. Slowly she removed this
and that as she danced and ancient dance of victory for the warrior she believed would help win this hideous war with
the Romans. This was also a Druid as yet filled with untapped potential. She would see what potential she could help
Nessa develop this night.
Nessa watched mesmerized, while Morgan revealed more and more. When the dance was over, Morgan took her sword
in both hands and thrust it downward burying it in the floor. She curled a hand around each cross hilt and bent over as
far as she could. She spread her legs wide and waited.
The warrior lost control of a certain withheld anger at this display since Morgan knew Nessa wanted to give pain with
sex. This felt like a slap. She stood up and walked slowly to the front of the naked and bent over woman. She spoke
with contained fury while she slowly slid the belt from her breeches. “Morgan, you know what pleases me. Do you
expect a simple hot fuck? No. If that is what you want you must stand now, dress and I will walk out from your hut.”
Morgan did not move.
All at once the warrior Druid felt a hot pure wind rush through her. She dropped to her knees before the beautiful
face and dangling breasts of the Ancient. Her heart filled with bliss and tears at what she saw in those intense eyes.
Morgan spoke softly. “You can do what you must to satisfy your need for giving pain. I will scream for you, my warrior
and I will love you all the same.”
Again, Nessa was stricken by words spoken to her heart. “You love me?” she whispered.
“Always have I loved you, Nessa the ungentle. I know who you are and one day you will too. Whip me now my warrior.
Invade my smallest opening. Hurt it, claim it and make me yours for just this night if never again.”
___***___
Nessa opened her eyes. The old Oak she lay against seemed to be cradling her. The words, “make me yours for just
this night if never again” replayed in her mind. She had her way with Morgan that night. It was the most monumental
experience of love she ever knew before or since, until Killian.
The battle in Brittania was victorious and many more were victorious until the Romans pulled out… at least for
recouping. Morgan disappeared without a trace. No one found her body on any battlefield. Nessa tore through
every hut and camp in search of the Fianna but to no avail. The fierce warrior lost her taste for battle in her grief and
sailed here to this country where she found a leaderless mountain home of women and animals where she could be useful
an and find peace.
Finally Nessa understood what it was about Killian that made her heart jump at the sight of the lass. Killian had some
of the ancient spirit within her. The Druid knew that Killian was not a Fianna… yet. All this time, Nessa was trying to
replace Morgan with the lass who had her own lover for life. The last vestige of anger and resentment toward the
Trader lifted from where it festered in Nessa’s battered heart. She would go home to her clan now. She would heal
and trust again. She whistled as she walked with her faithful horse, Tuttle down the winding trail to the Lodge. “I
wonder what is on for supper tonight” she said to no one in particular. Then, the voice she heard in her head so many
years ago came again. “It is of the Earth, Druid. You will satisfy your hunger… always.”
tbc
Nessa
Beginning
Family Reunion
By Kaie
Kaie struggled against the iron grips that held her arms tight. The big guy on her right had arms as big around as her
waist and stringy hair that fell below his shoulders in chunks of glistening grease and grime. He was breathing heavily
from the effort of chasing her, but for now his grip was tight enough she couldn’t hope to get away. The slightly
smaller one on her left smelled as bad as his partner, and he was panting, but it had nothing to do with being tired from
the chase. His eyes were mismatched, one brown and one green, and they already were undressing her. She prayed
that Picifico and Kratos would reach help in time as she felt herself pulled forward to face the woman she hoped to
never see alive again.
“Well, well. You were more clever then I thought Kaie. It seems the dear sweet prodigal niece has returned from the
dead.” Serrah looked anything but pleased to find her alive. She was dressed in impeccable tight brown leather
today, with a short cloak and hood. Even inside the hood Kaie could see the scar she left her Aunt almost burning it
stood out so brightly and if gave her some small satisfaction.
Kaie fought harder, her hatred burning bright in her eyes, but stayed silent.
“No hello’s for me dear? Very well then let’s skip the family reunion and talk about more important items. Where are my
gems?”
“Gems? I don’t have any damn gems bitch!” Obviously Serrah didn’t believe her because at a nod her two goons that
were so effectively numbing her arms with their hold began a very personal search of her body from head to toe. At
last Serrah was satisfied that Kaie had nothing on her. Both of them seemed to enjoy the search and made sure to
check some areas twice. Her simple blouse and short skirt couldn’t hide much. She didn’t even have her knives with her
since they were taken by Lady A and put up to prevent her from coming after this very woman.
“So one of your new friends has them hm? Tell me who it is dear and I will make sure you die fast and painless.” Serrah
was pacing now, a sure sign she was growing impatient, and nervous.
“I lost them! Way before I came here. You can go look for them somewhere else but they aren’t here!” Kaie was
seething from the invading touches she endured. She felt those leering eyes looking down her blouse even now.
“LIAR!” Serrah crossed the distance between them easily and Kaie felt her head rocked back from the blow, splitting
her lip. She backed away quickly fingering her scars, as if remembering how fast Kaie was the last time they were in such
close proximity.
“One thing you were never good at niece, was lying. Now I know one of the bitches inside that Lodge has MY gems,
and I plan to get them back. You will tell me everything you know about them, their weaknesses and their strengths,
whatever it takes.”
“I won’t tell you anything. They were just some shiny jewels. It isn’t like there aren’t more of them in the world.”
“I know the truth. I know you killed more than just father. You killed my mother too, and my nurse. Why? Why are they
that damn important to you? You have enough gold to buy all the damn gems in the world.”
“Yes yes, but not THOSE gems. They should have been MINE you know.” Serrah regarded her shrewdly for a
minute, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “So you know about your mother hm? That means you’ve met the horse
bitch.”
She leaned closer, signaling for her to be held tighter. “What did she tell you about them? Did she reveal how to use
them? You won’t take their power from me.”
Kaie set her jaw and refused to answer, instead she settled for glaring back at the bitch responsible for wiping out her
family. Other then a fast temper, there was little resemblance between Aunt and niece. Kaie was tanned and small, well
formed with muscle and lean with her short curly hair and vivid green eyes. Serrah was her opposite, tall and softly built,
far from fat but well rounded in all the places that counted. Her eyes were a dark blue with long blonde hair normally
pulled back into a severe knot, but today well hidden inside the hood.
Serrah ignored her lack of answers for the moment. “Epona was foolish to choose your mother over me, and now she
chooses you. You won’t live to see those gems again my dear. And soon, you will sing to my tune and answer every
question I ask of you.” Serrah turned away giving another signal to the men holding her.
Kaie counted a total of nine men in the small glen, one that she recognized easily. She glared at the smug smile Davon
wore even as she was roughly thrown against a tall oak. Her hands were tied and in short order she found them
stretched high above her head over a limb, causing her to stretch and stand on tip toe against the rough bark.
She turned her head the best she could and watched with growing horror as Serrah was handed an item. It’s handle
was just over twelve inches, and looked to be made of tightly woven rope. The nine tails each had five knots spread
along their length of cord. Her breath caught and she renewed her praying for help to come soon.
“I see you are familiar with the cat, this one is called a thieves cat actually. It’s perfect for a thief like yourself. Now
then, one last chance to tell me who holds those gems.” Serrah stepped behind Kaie as the men gathered around
nearly drooling with anticipation. Only a few looked less then anxious to watch the pain inflicted on this small woman.
Kaie closed her eyes tightly, determined to be brave. If she could just hold out a little while, Picifico would find the
warriors and bring help. She cursed to think their ruse sent them in the opposite direction earlier today which meant
they would have further to ride.
Her bravery nearly fled with the first painful THUD! Of cord against her back. She felt it ripping along her blouse
and the crushing pain drove the breath from her. The second blow drew blood and an agonized scream from Kaie’s
lips. After two more she didn’t try to stop the screams, she only knew the pain was unbearable, and she imagined
feeling each separate tail as it ripped its way into her skin, the knots along their length tearing and bruising.
Dimly she heard Serrah’s questions but the voice seemed far away. She shook her head, unable to speak for the pain
anyway. Again and again Serrah drilled her with questions. Who held the gems? How many warriors were there to
protect the lodge? What was the best time for attack? How much did she know of using the gems? Kaie bit her split lip
and stayed silent except for the ragged pants of her breath as she rested her cheek against the large oak.
It seemed to take forever. Serrah would deliver four strikes and then pause to question her again. For a soft woman of
leisure, her arm was strong. She was well used to whipping slaves and found it a pleasurable pastime. Kaie grew hoarse
with her screams, but she never spoke a word to answer Serrah’s questions.
Finally, after sixteen strikes Kaie was barely conscious. She still refused to speak and sagged against the tree, her
back bleeding heavily, its stickiness the only thing holding her shredded blouse in place.
When they cut her down she couldn’t stand, but found herself held up anyway. Her eyes still held their defiant spark
when she managed to raise her head and meet Serrah’s glare.
“You always were a disobedient and stubborn child Kaie. Did you know Jessia took after you so much after you left?
She became impossible to deal with, always voicing her opinions about slavery and protesting my search for your
head.”
“Of course she straightened up just fine after I removed her tongue.” Serrah smirked when Kaie suddenly came to life
in her captor’s arms and attempted to fight her way free again.
“I had her enslaved for awhile, so she would see up close the lifestyle she hated so much. Apparently she was not well
suited to it. She lasted only a few months before she died.”
Kaie felt the tears stinging her eyes again, one more of her blood family dead. Once Serrah was gone, she would have
no blood left.
“They are going to find you Aunt. And you will die, painfully just like you have caused so many others to die.”
Serrah laughed then, and turned to face her niece with an amused smile, “Really? I think they are weak just like you.
That is what love will do for you. Did you really think you could find another family so easily? They will betray you for
the gold I offer, and those that won’t, will die.”
“Bitch! You killed your own daughter? I can’t wait to see you dead!! You are wrong about the women there, they are
my true family, they won’t betray me, and you might find them harder to kill then you thought.”
“Now that I have you, I think they might be inclined to make a deal. Not that they will ever see you alive again.” Serrah
waved a hand towards a nearby large rock. “Put her there, hands down.”
Kaie didn’t have much energy left to struggle as she was shoved against the rock, her hands held down flat against its
rough surface. Each movement stretched her back painfully and sent new shocks of pain through her body. Serrah ran
a caressing hand along her arm, taking care to touch each and every finger as she spread them out. She wore a
grimacing smile, like one that greatly enjoys delivering pain.
“I nearly forgot I do owe you a little something for the reminder you left me with this very hand three years ago.” With
those words Kaie’s world exploded into a myriad of pain and screams when Serrah crushed her hand beneath a large
rock.
She heard and felt the crack of bones as her hand was crushed and she collapsed to the ground with it curled against
her. Her cries faded to whimpers as the pain became too much and she rolled to the side retching and choking. Once
her stomach was empty she stayed still, gasping for breath and fighting consciousness as she clutched the broken hand
close to her body.
Barely conscious she heard Serrah preparing to leave. “You five take the little cunt to the cave and keep her hidden.
If she escapes, you will pay dearly. I want her alive until I am ready to hang her by that pretty little neck again. You can
of course, have your fun with her but she WILL live.”
“The rest of you will go back to the ship with me, to prepare a nice little ransom note for the fools. I’ll have my gems
within the next day or so and you boys will have some entertainment for the trip back on the ship.”
She struggled for the energy to stand, ‘Serrah can’t leave yet! If I can just get up I can take her by surprise I could kill
her....’ Her thoughts faded into darkness when she was roughly pulled upright and slung over a horse. As the horse
moved forward she thought she caught a glimpse of golden eyes darting through the trees. ‘Sgàth go find them
please. Get me help.’ She hoped the wolf heard her thoughts even as the movement became too much for her pain and
her hopes of killing Serrah were lost when she slipped into oblivion.
When she woke the first thing she noticed were the trees around them. They were still deep in the woods. She tried to
move but groaned when the movement stretched the dried blood and strips of torn flesh on her back painfully. Her
hand throbbed still, the fingers bent and angled oddly.
“Look ‘ere boys. Sleeping beauty is wakin up.” Her vision blurred and then sharpened to reveal the odd-eyed goon
from earlier. She wished her vision had stayed blurred when he opened his mouth in a greedy leer and revealed rotted
stumps of what once were teeth.
They had left her outside the cave. It was too hot inside for what they planned. They hadn’t bothered with a campfire
yet, in fact they barely unsaddled their horses when she awoke.
Her mind screamed at her to run but her body refused to move. She turned her head to the side as they ripped the skirt
from her body, moaning softly with the pain it caused her back. Rough fingers held her thighs wide as they gathered
around for their fun.
There was an ant struggling to carry his heavy load back to his mound. She focused on him, watching him labor with the
large crumb even as the first of them entered her roughly. She screamed with the pain at first, but redoubled her
efforts to focus on the ant and let her mind separate herself from her body slowly. Again and again they shoved
themselves on top of her, rough hands twisting and pinching her breasts. One of them bit her hard enough to leave an
imprint of his teeth on her shoulder, but by then she barely registered the pain.
They rammed into her over and over, but could not bring another scream or reaction from her no matter how much they
abused her back, or left her thighs raw and bleeding. She refused to look at them, staring determinedly at the ant until
he at last succeeded in reaching his goal and disappeared inside the mound with his prize.
She turned her head then, as Davon knelt between her spread thighs, the last to have his turn with her.
“Remember me pretty?”
Her voice was hoarse from all her earlier screaming but she managed to answer him with her own smirk, “I remember
Davon. Are you sure you want to try this again? Last time you got first chance with me, I remember how one- ear
laughed at you then.”
He slapped her hard, re-opening the cut on her lip. “I would have been easy with you then, you were to be my first you
know. I wanted to keep the others from hurting you but you laughed at me.”
Kaie spit blood at him then. “What do I care how easy you would go? It was still to be rape. But you couldn’t quite
manage to fulfill you duty could you? You were pitiful trying to make love to me while they watched, cheering you on
for rape when you couldn’t even get your cock to stand.” She laughed again now with the memory.
“When they pulled you away in shame and beat you it left me free to crawl under the tent flap and escape, I suppose I
should thank you for that.” She managed to get herself caught once, over a year ago. One-ear and his group
intended to rape her but had given Davon first chance. He was young like her then, a smooth faced boy who never lay
with a woman before. When Kaie laughed at his attempts he wasn’t able to enter her, and the others laughed long and
hard at his limp member.
“Do you know what that was like for me?? It cost them a night between your thighs so it was ME they raped instead.
YOU cost me that. And now this time you will get just what you should have the first time.”
He entered her then, hard and rough. He grunted with each vicious jab against her and Kaie felt her head swimming
from the pain it caused her back against the rough ground. “That’s it moan for me like a little whore.”
Somewhere she heard it begin, a low warning growl. She recognized it and held onto her consciousness as the wolf
burst out of the wood snarling.
“And you will get what you deserved that first time too.” Davon was buried deep inside her now as his release hit hard
and strong. He couldn’t have stopped her then if he tried as she slipped his dagger from its sheath and buried it deep
in his side, twisting it upwards until he slumped forward against her, blood pooling around them both.
Chaos erupted then as all four remaining men scrambled to draw weapons and kill the wolf. She watched as Sgàth
tackled one, tearing his throat out with a vicious snarl. And then she heard the yell, its challenge and strength rang out
through the trees around them as the remaining three paled with a new fear.
She tried to move Davon from on top of her but the weight was too much and she sagged as her injured hand made
contact with his body. She could only watch helplessly, barely conscious as help arrived in a fierce form.
tbc
Morgan’s Tribe: the Beginning
Return of the Unseen
By Nessa
The day was getting cooler now as the sun moved. Nessa felt clean inside. Memories of Morgan brought the
realization that what she loved in Killian was what she loved in Morgan. That feeling of a squeeze around her heart
since Caitlin was found and restored to her true love, was gone now. Relief was sweet. Recalling the voice inside that
spoke the words, “It is of the Earth, Druid. You will satisfy your hunger… always” gave the Celt a hint of a smile as she
led Tuttle through the forest.
Before she could think another thought, a shadow charged through the Druid. It was filled with howling, anger and
urgency. A wolf shaped in her mind’s eye, a black wolf, killing for the survival of one of his own. Nessa understood the
connection immediately. The struggle for life was felt more than seen. She broke into a run allowing the sight of the
black wolf to lead her as she streaked through the forest. Blood ran and men scrambled. She heard the yelling from
outside her mind now. There was another, the one the wolf would die to protect and one Nessa recognized.
Fury now drove Nessa. She broke onto the scene bleating the battle cry of all Celtic warriors. Three men were left
standing and stunned to see the wild screaming warrior barreling upon them with a sword in one hand and a double
edged ax in the other. Fear paralyzed them all. The warrior was a blaze of movement. She cleaved the scull of the
closest buffoon with her ax then pivoted fast and hard to swing her sword across the shoulders of the next one, slicing
his head clean off. The last man fell to his knees before the savage Celt and began a plea for mercy. Nessa shot a
glance over at Kaie, naked and brutalized. The black wolf stood silently beside her. The animal’s stare gave Nessa
the answer she needed. She showed the man mercy by running her sword through his heart.
Tainted life made a quick exit to wherever such damaged spirits went and Nessa the warrior dropped her weapons.
Before making a move toward Kaie she acknowledged Sgath with reverence for his loyalty and wild power. The wolf
moved away from Kaie allowing the Druid to come close. She lifted the brute Kaie managed to kill and swung his
lifeless, stinking body aside. “Kaie” Nessa breathed. The lass was barely conscious. Nessa could see the swelling
and bulging bone of one of her hands. She was covered with blood and bruises. Her back was raw and bleeding. The
Druid knelt down and carefully lifted Kaie, cradling her gently. “You’ll be alright lass. You’ll be alright” she whispered.
Kaie struggled to focus on the face surrounded by that wild shock of red hair. “Nessa, I never see you at parties… so
glad you could make it” she managed to croak before she passed out.
Nessa carried Kaie through the forest. They were followed by the ever-faithful mare, Tuttle and the black wolf.
Finally they reached the stream Nessa searched for. She lay the lass down on the soft grass beside the trickling
water. Signs of shock were apparent now. Nessa grabbed a blanket from her saddle bag and covered Kaie while
Sgath and Tuttle drank from the stream.
While she knew enough to drape Kaie’s arm over the bank so that the icy stream covered and rolled over the broken
hand, Nessa was a Druid and a warrior, not a healer. The young girl’s face was a swollen mass of bruises and blood.
She was most likely injured on the inside, maybe even bleeding. Nessa was taught long ago to use her unseen
resources. She sat in silence beside the injured lass and closed her eyes. Subtle movement of the air flowed around
her like a gentle whirlwind. Suddenly she was standing in a tunnel facing Killian.
Killian’s face showed concern. “You have never come to me through these passages before, Nessa. Tell me what you
need.”
“The lass, Kaie lay by the stream outside the great oak grove. She has been raped and broken. I will stay with her but
you must come.”
“Is there still danger?”
“There is no one else but a black wolf. They were all men who died by my sword and the wolf’s teeth. The wolf is a
friend.”
Killian shook her head slightly then said, “I must tell Caitlin and the others. Then I shall be there as quickly as flame
can carry me. Stay with Kaie, sweet friend. We may have to take her between the worlds.”
tbc
Nessa
Morgan’s Tribe: the Beginning
Return of the unseen part 2,
by Killian
Killian turned to see Caitlin staring at her with concern.
"Caitlin, it is as bad as it could possibly be. Kaie lies at the brink of death, beaten and raped, at the hands of some
horrible men.
Nessa called me, Caitlin. If I do not get to her soon, she may die."
Caitlin's face contorted into disabling grief. She knew she should have shadowed the girl or insisted on keeping her
by her side. .
"Let's go."
"Caitlin, I didn't-"
"Leave it, lass, we have to fly now, Love. Kaie needs you. You did say Nessa killed the others?"
"Yes, all of them"
"Do you know where she is?"
"I will feel Nessa through the worlds. We will find her
Together they mounted their horses, streaking through the village to the outer forest where Killian was led by Nessa’
s thought.
~~
Killian and Caitlin rode hard through the forest. Finally coming to the scene where Kaie was hurt. Caitlin took in the
ground around them in a glance. The signs revealed a bloody battle, dead men killed without mercy and parts of Kaie's
clothes, but nothing else.
Killian closed her eyes, and saw Nessa in her mind. "We are close, Nessa. We are at the place where Kaie was first
taken. Guide me to you."
Killian felt Nessa's presence with her on Flame. "Let me have the reins, lass, I will take you to us in the quickest way."
Nessa spoke to Killian's mind.
"I understand, Nessa, do with me as ya need to."
With that Killian nudged Flame into a full gallop through the woods. In a short while Killian and Caitlin sat astride
their horses across the stream from Nessa, Kaie, and Sgath, who stood in the water blocking their way.
Killian nodded to the wolf, and he backed up, allowing Killian to pass. Caitlin followed closely behind.
Killian was off her horse and on the ground next to Kaie before Flame came to a full stop.
"Nessa" The two psychic's exchanged looks, and thoughts of Kaie's chances.
"Kaie, can you hear me? Killian took Kaie's good hand.
"Killy? You came? Am I dead?" Kaie's left eye was swollen shut. She was in shock.
"No, Kaie, sweetheart, and I don't plan to have you be the first one to die on me. Caitlin would have your ass for that,
you know."
Kaie managed a laugh.
"Nessa, Caitlin,” Killian said seriously, “I need valerian root, comfrey, and some elderberry. Can you find those?"
"Yes, lass, we will get them for you." Nessa responded, To Killian's mind she asked, “Does she have a chance?”
“Not in this world, Nessa. Not in this world. Maybe Mother Oak can save her. We will need to take her as soon as we
can move her
“Aye, lass, I was thinkin' the same thing. We will go build a litter after we get your herbs.”
Killian nodded to Nessa, thanking Grace they had the veil to cross through to save this girls life.
~~
While Nessa built the litter, Caitlin gathered as much soft moss as possible to lay on the tarp Nessa had with her
supplies. The Druid had a heavy fur from her nights out camping in the wild. They used that to warm Kaie, after Killian
managed to cover her back with a large poultice wrap, and set her wrist. The girl was in deep shock, and was bleeding
internally. Killian knew their only hope was to be allowed passage into the land of the Faery, and to have a special
healing done by the Great Mother Oak.
Nessa reminded Killian that she was considered royalty to the Faery folk and trees for returning their Sacred Stone
to them. Killian didn't care about this for herself, but hoped it may help get Kaie the healing she so desperately
needed.
"Kaie," Killian touched the girl's forehead as they reached the Sacred Maple, just outside the entrance to the Great
Circle of Oaks.
"Yes, Killy, I am here." Kaie held Killian's hand with strength as Killian psychically sensed the girl slipping into Shadow.
"I need you to hang on for me, sweetie. We are taking you into the Light, darling. You need to fight the Shadow. Will
you do that for me?" Killian held Kaie's hand and infused her with nearly all the energy Killian held in her being. The
Healer felt Kaie take in a deep breath.
"Nessa, we must go now, or it will be too late."
"Come, lass, it is you the Guardian Maple wishes to talk to."
Killian stepped up.
"Friend of the Faery, it is a great honor to have you back among us. I have been told by the Druid what is needed. Tell
me, do you wish to pass through the veil, friend of the Faery?”
"Yes, Great Maple, I wish to bring healing to my friend here, who is passing into Shadow. I humbly ask you to allow us
to enter.
"Very well friend. You, your mate, the Druid, the injured one, and wolf may enter.”
"Thank you, dear Maple." Killian whispered.
tbc
Killian
Morgan’s Tribe: the Beginning
Healings
By Killian and Nessa
The great guardian whispered through the breeze as Killian gazed up at her, "friend of the Faery, it is a great honor to
have you back among us. I have been told by the Druid what is needed. Tell me, do you wish to pass through the veil,
friend of the Faery?
"Yes, Great Maple, I wish to bring healing to my friend here, who is passing into Shadow as we speak. I humbly ask you
to allow us to enter.
"Very well friend. You, all may enter."
"Thank you, dear Maple." Killian hugged the Maple.
Nessa stood silently beside the injured Kaie and Sgath the black wolf. She was watching Killian. The way the Lass
cocked her head to one side as if she were listening to some invisible guide intrigued the Celt. Many mannerisms about
Killian were always strangely familiar to Nessa. But before this afternoon’s trance of memory about Morgan and all
that happened in Brittania, she could not place the resemblance. For the first time Nessa realized that except for
being slightly shorter and much more stubborn, the lass could almost be Morgan.
Killian took the hand of Caitlin and held the other out to Nessa and said, “We are ready now my friend.”
Nessa turned and raised her arms slowly, her eyes were closed as the veil lifted and the group was transported to the
center of the great circle of oaks. When she opened her eyes again she saw Killian already on her knees before
Mother Oak.
Killian whispered, "Great Mother. I humbly come before you, not for myself, but for my friend here, who lay dying. I
beseech your assistance, Mother." Killian heard the familiar tittering of the bustling small Faery creatures all around
them. She could feel the heavy cloak of warmth coming from the giant stand of Oaks. She felt a comfort in this place,
like no other. The entire glade waited as the Eldest Oak, the Great Mother of them all, considered her earth child.
The huge gnarly trunk seemed to shift in their vision. It became a floating sort of body within the trunk itself. A voice
so musical and beautiful it brought tears to the eyes of the three conscious women. It rang across the short distance
between the humans and the oldest living Spirit. “This is the work of great evil… the evil of men.” The face of the
Mother, though sad, was as soft as the air. She gazed upon the kneeling healer. “You brought this broken child to me,
psychic walker. What can I do that you cannot? Or do you not yet know who you are among the spirits of the Earth?”
Killian felt some confusion and yet a familiarity, almost a memory that came and faded quickly.
Nessa read the meaning behind the words of the Mother. Killian was obviously more than she yet knew she was. She
was also filled with her own illness from the burden of the fearweight tide she was now free from but still wore like a
scar. Killian took on all of the fear of her young friend Tris after the insane Dalton tortured Tris to near insanity,
herself. Killian felt it had to be done. She knew she was stronger than Tris in every way.
The Mother spoke sweetly through the air and into their hearts. “Of course I will heal this wounded young woman.
But you too must undergo a healing, psychic walker between the worlds.”
Killian felt a wave of energy float through that nearly knocked her flat down to the ground. A wave of nausea
followed, and the young psychic gave her stomach contents up to the moss she knelt on. The Aged Oaks words
about her own need for healing cut through her as if she stood bare in that cave in Denmark, her back being ripped
open by Dalton's psychic whip. Killian convulsed again. Caitlin came to her, laying her strong hands on Killian’s small
shoulders, steadying her with her powerful presence.
Killian felt Nessa's strength pouring into her as well. Her nausea subsided enough for her to speak. "Great Mother,
I will do anything you wish of me, for I trust in your guidance above all things. I feel selfish even considering myself at a
time when my friend lay dying, but since you have so graciously agreed to heal Kaie, I will undergo anything you see the
need for me to do." Killian broke down in tears, her ache felt centuries deep. It's weight felt on the verge of crushing
her. " Mother, I love you so. I am deeply humbled that you see me for all that I am” she said. Killian thought only Nessa
had any real sense of it. Not even Caitlin knew of this great burden. Killian tried to hide it from even herself. “I ache
with gladness for your knowing Spirit. Thank you for seeing me. I am ready to do anything you ask." She whispered
reverently. Killian bowed her head in complete surrender to the enlightened one who towered lovingly above her.
The great oak nodded in silent communication with the small folk around her. Killian stood there with Nessa and
Caitlin watching with trust as the Faery folk carried Kaie’s unconscious body away trailed by her faithful Sgath and
out of their sight. “Where are they taking her, Nessa?” Caitlin asked.
“They take her to the waters of Muirios. It means strength and vigor. She will be immersed and revitalized.” Nessa did
not wonder where Killian would be taken for her own healing. Nor did she offer what she knew. She didn’t have to.
Killian turned to Mother Oak and said, “Is there a lake of strength and vigor for me, Mother?”
The beautiful old tree seemed to be breathing with the sounds of the forest. “No, Shamaness… you will be healed by
another of your blood. She is arriving on the wind and has been waiting for this time so that she could come to you at
last.”
tbc
Nessa and Killian
Morgan’s Tribe: the Beginning
Morgan Returns Part 1
By Morgan
A breeze so faint it barely moved the auburn hair of the kneeling lass, passed between the three figures before the
ancient Oak. But something was different. Nessa knew it. She felt it in a part of her still left open and raw from loss.
Caitlin had her own experience with the presence as if she was under scrutiny and then approval. A scent like rain on
Cedar filled the air around them. Killian was still gazing at Mother Oak in wonder when a shape took form from out of
the air in front of her. She stared up into what looked like her own eyes.
“Killian, my sister, I have found you at last.” The voice was filled with natural cadence, hypnotic and rich. The Fianna
reached for the younger woman’s hands.
Killian felt like her hands were being moved by something other than her own will yet she would not resist. Four hands
clasped together and Killian was standing on her feet facing someone she knew once and lost in a dream somewhere.
“Who are you?” she asked, “and how do you know my name?”
“I am Morgan” answered the older woman. She stepped closer. Letting go of one hand she caressed the softness of
Killian’s face with her fingers. “I am your sister. You did not know me really. We lived in Brittania with our brother
Caracticus. But the tribes were warring and we sent you to Greece where the Amazons taught you to survive. I am so
sorry they could not love you.” Morgan shifted her dark eyes to Caitlin. “But you have found one who does.”
Killian shivered with something more than excitement or fear. “You are my sister? I have a sister? I never knew” she
whispered, thinking of all those days of loneliness during her teenage years, feeling so like an outcast and rebelling
because it was the best she could do in defense of her poor aching heart. She felt only a slight sense of bitterness
that dropped like a falling leaf, replaced by a joy unknown to her ever before. Tears rolled down her face as she
repeated Morgan’s name aloud as if to make a spell to keep the woman real.
“I will not leave you again, Killian” said Morgan wrapping her arms around her sister. She could feel the burden of the
Fearweight Tide within her sister. It was not an enviable burden, though it furnished a depth to psychic abilities few
would know in any lifetime. Nevertheless, Morgan estimated that her beloved sister had a depth of psychic skill enough
for several women. It was time to release her.
As Killian allowed Morgan to embrace her she felt a melting of something frozen inside her. It dripped away to soak
into the Earth where it would stay.
tbc
Morgan
Morgan Returns Part 2
By Killian
"My heart aches with the beauty and power of this telling, Morgan. I have been lost for so long, aching from emptiness
nothing, not even my profound love for Caitlin could fill. I am humbled by this most astonishing news. I want to hold
you, touch you, devour you in every way possible, hoping to not lose you again, after I have just now found I indeed
have YOU, of all people."
Killian fell into Morgan's arms, weeping heavily. She felt a sense of belonging she never understood until this very
moment in time.
Killian
Addition
By Caitlin
The two sisters broke the embrace of charm when Caitlin approached. The Fearweight Tide was now emptied from
her beloved and was replaced by a newness of being that made her more beautiful than ever. The trader glanced first
at Killian and then at Morgan. She knelt on one knee before them. Bringing Morgan’s hand to her own lips she kissed
it softly and said, “My heart belongs to your sister, Morgan. My sword is yours, great Fianna.”
Thus ends the beginning
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