The buck deer stood grazing gracefully amongst the trees, unaware of the two hunters who were concealed by a bush only a short distance away. Seeing her chance, Catlin silently fitted an arrow into her bow and raised the weapon. She took aim and prepared to shoot the arrow. Just as she was about to let it fly, the animal started and disappeared into the forest like a flash.
Lowering her weapon, Catlin sighed and turned to Conor, who was standing right behind her. "So much for that," she started to say, but Conor cut her off by placing a finger to his lips. She was immediately silent, noticing that her hunting partner was fully alert and listening carefully. Standing perfectly still, Catlin held her breath until she heard the sound that had alerted both Conor and the deer.
There was a distant rustle of bushes that was quickly growing louder and drawing closer. Very soon, the two warriors could make out the sound of approaching horses. Conor crouched down behind a bush and Catlin quickly joined him. "Romans?" She whispered the one word question under her breath.
With one hand resting on the hilt of his father's sword, Conor answered her with a look that said he desperately hoped it wasn't Roman soldiers. They both knew all too well that Roman soldiers could mean only one thing -- trouble.
Hardly breathing, Conor and Catlin watched through the foliage as the riders came into view. There were four horses, ridden by a man and three children who looked to be between the ages of seven and twelve. Conor let out the breath he had been holding, but didn't move from their hiding place. They weren't Romans but they were still strangers.
As the travelers passed before the warriors’ hiding place, Conor and Catlin heard the oldest child speak. "Da," the girl said to the man in a tired voice. "Please, can we stop here? We're so tired."
The man stopped his horse and looked back at his two daughters and his son. "All right, children," he sighed wearily. "You've done well. We can rest here until morning."
As the four strangers dismounted from their horses, Conor and Cat exchanged a look and slowly rose to their feet. They pushed through the brush toward the horses, Conor in the lead.
At the sound of their approach, the man and his children tensed and looked both scared and apprehensive. "Please," the man appealed as soon as he could see Conor, "we are just passing through."
Conor stopped a short distance away, not wanting to frighten the strangers any more, and he motioned for Catlin to do the same. "We're not here to harm you," Conor assured them. He looked carefully at the man and then at his children. They all looked exhausted and slightly ragged. He decided that they were most likely harmless. Having come to that conclusion, the young prince smiled at the strangers. "Your children look weary. Have you traveled a long way?"
The father of the children recognized the warmth in Conor's voice and eyes. Relaxing considerably, he smiled and replied, "Aye. We've been traveling four days with little rest. I'm afraid it has taken its toll on the young ones."
Conor looked about them. "This isn't a safe place to camp," he advised. "Roman patrols have been known to pass through here quite frequently."
Disheartened by this news, the eldest child spoke again, desperately. "Please, da, we can't go on." Her father looked at a loss for words, not wanting to force his children to go on but not wanting to place them in danger either.
"Don't worry," Conor said quickly. "You can come back to our village with us." Seeing that the man looked slightly apprehensive at the suggestion, the prince added, "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise you."
Looking and feeling extremely tired, the children's father decided to trust the young prince. He smiled again. "Thank you, friends. My name is Patrick and these are my children." He gestured to the three kids. "Eilis, Morgen, and Bevan."
"I'm Conor and this is Catlin," the prince returned, placing a hand on Cat's shoulder.
Bevan, the youngest of the children, hid shyly behind his eldest sister, Eilis. The middle child was a girl with long and wavy brown hair and big brown eyes to match. Evidently not quite as shy as her younger brother, she came forward and stood before Catlin. "I'm Morgen," the child whispered, looking up at the archer.
Catlin leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees so her face was level with the child’s. "Hello, Morgen," she said with a smile.
"You're very pretty," the girl said, losing any remaining shyness.
Catlin's smile widened. "So are you," she assured the child.
Delighted, Morgen took Catlin's hand and smiled up at her happily.
Having witnessed the exchange, Conor grinned at Catlin before turning to Patrick. "Come," he said kindly. "I'll show you the way to our home."
* * *
Soon after arriving at the Sanctuary, Conor showed their guests to a spare hut and they settled down to sleep almost immediately. Worn out from their journey, Patrick and his children only awoke in time for supper that evening. After eating, Morgen wandered over to where Catlin was sitting alone by one of the many fires.
"May I sit with you?" the child asked, hanging back a bit.
"Of course." Catlin smiled and patted the empty space on the log beside her.
Morgen came over and sat down next to her. She looked up at Catlin, her big eyes seeming to search the woman's face for a moment. "You have known much pain," she suddenly said in a soft voice.
Catlin was startled. "How do you know that?" she asked, feeling like Morgen had just looked inside her.
"I just know," the girl answered. She turned her head away, sensing that she had made Catlin feel a bit uncomfortable. "But we don't have to talk about it."
Cat looked at Morgen carefully, realizing for the first time that there was something different about her. She wasn't quite like other children. Feeling rather confused and not knowing what to say, Catlin decided to change the subject. "Where are you headed?"
As soon as she had asked the question, Catlin regretted it. A look of great sadness came over Morgen’s face and she stared into the fire as she replied, "Far, far away. To someplace where my ma won't be able to find us."
"You’re running from your mother?" Catlin was both surprised and puzzled. "Why?"
"Because..." Morgen spoke slowly and let the word trail off. Cocking her head to one side, she held her right hand out in front of her, the palm facing the fire. She looked at it as if the sight of it troubled her. "Because when I touch sick or hurt people, they get better."
Catlin was speechless. Morgen recognized that she was shocked and taken aback. "It's true," she assured her simply.
Cat tried to regain her voice. "And your mother?"
"My mother," Morgen echoed in a voice that suddenly sounded much older than her nine years. "She walks with demons."
Catlin would have asked her to clarify the last statement, but Patrick's voice interrupted her before she could speak again.
"Morgen!" he called from the doorway of the spare hut. "Time for bed."
"Coming, da!" his daughter called back, jumping up. She turned to Cat and gave her a quick hug. "Goodnight, Catlin."
"Goodnight," Cat said, returning the hug.
Without another word, Morgen turned and ran toward her father, leaving Catlin to stare after her.
* * *
It wasn't long before Conor, Fergus, and Tully joined Catlin by the fire. The three men started an idle and amicable conversation while Catlin stared silently into the fire, her thoughts churning.
"You're awfully quiet this evening, lass," Fergus observed after a while. "Anything the matter?"
Catlin tossed a log on the fire, watching the sparks fly out from the flames. "I was just thinking about something that Morgen said earlier," she replied.
"What's that?" Conor asked.
"She told me that she can heal people just by touching them."
Before anyone could respond, Patrick appeared in the circle of light cast out by the burning fire. "Aye," he said as everyone looked up at him. "That she can." He sat down on a vacant stump and sighed, everyone waiting to hear what he would say next. "We call it her gift but at times it seems more like a curse. She's just a child but sometimes her soul is as heavy as an adult's."
The men were silent, still digesting what had been said, but Catlin was curious about something else that Morgen had told her. "Why are you running from your wife?"
The others looked up, intrigued. Until then, they hadn't known whom Patrick and his children were running from. Patrick sighed once more. "Deirdre," he said, somewhat wistfully. "I married her fourteen years ago. She was a real beauty." A nostalgic smile spread across his face. "Hair as black as the raven and a tongue as sharp as a whip." He paused. "And she was ambitious." With his last statement, the smile disappeared completely from his face. "But it wasn't until after I had married Deirdre that I realized just how ambitious she really was. As the first few years of our marriage passed, her ambition grew until it reached the point where she was willing to do anything for power.
"Morgen started showing signs of her gift when she was five years old. Right from the start, I feared that if Deirdre found out, she wouldn't hesitate to use Morgen for her own selfish purposes, to gain power within the community, perhaps within the whole region. At the time, Eilis and I were the only ones who knew of Morgen's special abilities and I managed to persuade both Eilis and Morgen that we should keep it a secret. We were successful until recently when Bevan was thrown from a horse and cracked his head open on a rock. Morgen ran to him and healed him right in front of everyone."
"What happened then?" Tully asked, he and the others absorbed in the story.
Patrick looked up at him and replied, "Exactly what I feared. Not only did Deirdre want to take advantage of her abilities, she decided that Morgen would provide the ultimate power for our people and, more importantly, for Deirdre herself. Her idea was that, with Morgen's ability to heal, we would never lose a warrior in battle and would be able to conquer many of the neighbouring tribes.
"What she didn't seem to care about was that Morgen suffers greatly from using her gift. After healing Bevan she was dangerously ill and weak for days. There's no way she could handle what Deirdre was proposing, at least not at this stage of her life. My only choice was to take the children and flee."
The atmosphere around the fire was one of both sympathy and sadness, as the prince and all his friends had been deeply affected by Patrick's story. Conor looked across the flames at him. "We'll do whatever we can to help keep Morgen safe, I promise you," he said with sincerity. "I think it would be best to take her to see the Druid King. He'll know what to do next."
Morgen's father nodded, agreeing with the prince's idea.
"The four of us will accompany you, to ensure that you arrive there safely."
Patrick glanced around at the four warriors, giving them a grateful look. "Thank you, friends. All you have done for us is appreciated more than words could ever express." He stood up from his stump and addressed them all again. "I had better go and check on the children. May you rest well." With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the others by the fire.
* * *
The Roman Queen pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders, trying to ward off the night’s chill as she entered her candlelit bedchamber. The flames of the numerous candles flickered and danced, casting wavering shadows about the room. Diana paused by her bed, a dark shadow by the window catching her eye. "Is that you, Longinus?" she asked, slightly unnerved.
"Yes, my love," came the reply.
Diana moved closer to the window until she could make out Longinus’s form framed by the night sky. He was gazing out into the darkness with a look on his face that told Diana that he was sensing something, something that only a man like him could sense.
Pressing herself up against his chest, she put a hand on his arm and looked up into his face. A small current off excitement ran through her body. "What is it, Longinus?"
He looked down at her, his expression unchanging. "A child."
"A child? What child?"
"A child with great powers and a heavy heart," the Roman centurion said in his mysterious way.
A calculating smile slowly spread across Diana’s face. Power. That was what she desired, what she lusted after. If this child could bring her more power… "Is she near?"
"Quite near," he replied, his gaze unfaltering. Then, without another word, he turned and left the bedchamber.
"Where are you going?" Diana called after him. "Longinus?" But he did not answer. He was already gone.
* * *
The next day dawned clear and bright, the spring air fresh and subtly scented with lavender. Conor had decided to wait one day before heading off to see the Father, as Patrick and his children needed a day to rest before setting out on yet another journey. Conor stood and looked about him, watching the sanctuary come to life as people emerged from their huts and began cooking their morning meals over their fires. Having already eaten his own breakfast, Conor looked happily over at the fire where Fergus, Tully, and Catlin were sitting. Morgen was sticking close to them, clearly in awe of Catlin.
"We've only been here a very short time, but already my daughter holds your friend in high esteem."
Conor turned at the sound of Patrick's voice. The man had come up behind him and now stood at his side, watching the same scene as Conor. "She'd be hard pressed to find a better role model," the prince assured Patrick.
"Aye," the girl’s father agreed. "I think you're right."
Spotting Patrick and Conor, Morgen came running over. She tugged on her father’s sleeve, her face bright and happy. "When I'm older I'm going to be a warrior just like Catlin," she told her father. "Will you make me a bow and arrows, da?"
Patrick lightly scooped his daughter off the ground and into his arms. "We'll see, child," he replied, smiling.
Morgen put her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. "I want to pick her some flowers. May I?" She addressed the question to both her father and Conor.
The prince smiled at the young girl. "There's a meadow not far from here where many flowers grow. I could take you there, if you like."
Morgen's face lit up. "Can we go, da?"
"I don't see why not," Patrick replied, setting his daughter back down on the ground.
"I'll ask Catlin to come too," Morgan said happily. She ran off to fetch the archer.
Before long, the four of them were wandering through the woods at a leisurely pace. Conor and Catlin were listening to Patrick as he recounted stories about his children and the village where they were from, while Morgen darted back and forth, looking for flowers and chasing butterflies. One butterfly fluttered around her head before heading off into the trees. Captivated, Morgen followed it, losing sight of the adults. When she lost track of it few minutes later, she found herself standing alone in a small clearing.
Before she could become worried about being separated from the others, a tall yellow flower caught her eye. It stood on its own in the tall grass, bending slightly in the gentle breeze. Morgen smiled at the sight of it. Maybe Catlin would braid it into her hair for her. She reached out to pick the flower, but with her hand in midair she froze, sensing a strong presence behind her. Slowly, she straightened and turned around. A man stood in the trees watching her. His fair hair was long and he wore robes of a deep maroon. They stood silently, their eyes locked, both knowing more about the other than could be learned through words. After studying each other for a few moments, Morgen finally broke the silence.
"I cannot heal your pain."
The man's expression did not change. "Nor your own," he returned, his eyes still fastened on hers.
"No."
They continued to stare at each other silently until a rustle in the bush broke the trance-like atmosphere.
"Morgen?" Conor emerged from the bush. "There you --" he stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the four hundred year-old man. He quickly covered the distance between himself and Morgen, stepping protectively in front of her. "What are you doing here?" he demanded of Longinus.
The Roman remained unfazed. "I merely came to see the child. I have no desire to harm her."
At that moment, Patrick and Catlin appeared behind Conor. "What's going on, Conor?" Cat asked, worried by the sight of Longinus.
"He was just about to leave," the young prince replied, glaring steadily at the man he was referring to.
Scared by the tense atmosphere, Morgen slipped over to her father and into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
Longinus shifted his gaze from Conor to Patrick and said to him, "You will never truly know what you have."
Patrick was confused and troubled by the statement, but before he could say anything, Longinus turned and walked back into the forest. Nobody went after him.
"Who was that man?" Patrick asked, still holding Morgen.
"A Roman with a dangerous soul," Catlin answered, her eyes still on the place where Longinus had last been visible.
"Dangerous?" Patrick was alarmed. "But what did he want?" Then, without waiting for an answer, Patrick addressed his daughter. "Morgen, what did he say to you?"
"Nothing, da. Don't worry," the girl assured her father. "He didn't want to hurt me. I know he didn't."
Patrick, Conor, and Catlin exchanged a look, then started to head back to the Sanctuary. As her father carried her through the forest, Morgen said to him quietly, "Da, that man is very old."
"Not so old," her father disagreed, slightly puzzle at the statement. "Probably no older than me."
"No, da," Morgen said with conviction. "He’s much, much older than you.”
* * *
As Longinus entered the castle, Diana ran to him and took hold of his arm. "Is she here?" the Roman queen asked, her eyes flashing with anticipation. "Did you bring her back with you?"
"No," Longinus answered, motioning for a servant to pour him some wine.
Diana dropped his arm. "You didn't find her?"
Longinus did not reply. Instead, he took a drink of wine and placed the goblet on a nearby table.
Diana looked at him in disbelief, understanding what his silence meant. "You found her and didn't bring her to me?!" Her temper started to flare, but she still spoke to her lover in an appealing voice. "Longinus, don't you realize what she could do for me? The power she could bring me?"
"Not everything is about you, Diana," he said, fixing her with a steady look. Then he turned and left the room, leaving Diana to simmer with anger.
In her frustrated rage, the Roman queen grabbed the goblet of wine and threw it at the wall, letting out an infuriated scream as she did so. The goblet crashed hard into the rock wall, the red wine dripping down like freshly spilled blood.
Determined to get what she wanted, Diana ordered a servant to bring one of the head soldiers to her. When the man arrived before her, she snapped orders at him. "Take some of the other soldiers and go find me the girl. I want her here unharmed before sundown tomorrow."
"Yes, my queen." The man bowed and rushed off to fulfill his orders.
Partially satisfied for the time being, Diana moved out onto the balcony to watch the soldiers leave on their quest. As she looked down from her vantage point, her eyes flashed. She would do whatever it took to get her hands on that child.
* * *
The next morning, the Celts set out early on their trip to Cathbad. They hadn't been traveling long when they had to leave the cover of the forest for a short distance. As they rode along the top of a hill, Tully pulled his horse to a stop and called out, "Conor!"
The prince, followed by the others, rode over to where Tully had stopped. They followed his line of sight, down the hill to where a handful of people could be seen riding toward them on horses.
"Romans," Tully said grimly, looking to Conor.
"Get the children into the forest," the prince instructed quickly.
Kicking their horses into action, everybody headed back to the trees. At the edge of the woods, they all slipped off their horses and the three children were ushered into hiding by their father. The three men then pulled out their swords, ready to fight, while Catlin readied her bow and pulled an arrow out of her quiver.
It wasn't long before the pounding of hooves became audible and the Romans appeared on the hilltop. The Celts held their weapons ready as the horses approached and slowed to a stop not far away. Except for the leader, all the soldiers dismounted and brandished their swords. Before anyone moved, the head soldier addressed Conor. "We’ve come for the child," he said. "Hand her over to us and maybe we won’t kill you."
"You’ll have to kill all of us before you get anywhere near her," the prince returned in a hard voice.
"Have it your way." The Roman nodded at the other soldiers.
At the same moment, the Celts raised their weapons. Letting out a great roar, they rushed into battle. For several minutes, the clashing of swords and cries of pain and anger filled the air. The Celts were outnumbered by one man, but this was soon evened out when Fergus cut one soldier across the jugular and Catlin took out another with an arrow.
Reaching for a second arrow, Cat searched for a clear shot at one of the Romans. She aimed at the man who was fighting with Tully and was just about to release the arrow when a cry of pain distracted her. Turning to her left, Catlin saw Conor fall to the ground, clutching his left arm. Taking advantage of the moment, his adversary raised his sword, ready to finish off the prince.
Without hesitation, Catlin re-aimed her arrow and let it fly. It caught the Roman soldier in the neck. Emitting a sickly choking noise, he dropped to his knees and slowly crumpled to the ground, his life over.
Catlin immediately rushed over to where Conor had fallen. He had just managed to push himself up into a sitting position when she dropped to her knees beside him. "Conor, are you all right?" she asked in a worried voice as she reached out to inspect the wound in his arm.
"It’s nothing," he started to say, but cut himself off as he caught sight of another Roman approaching. "Catlin, behind you!" he yelled.
All in one movement she grabbed Conor’s sword, jumped to her feet, and swung around. But it was too late. By jumping back she was able to avoid the brunt of the blow, but the end of it caught her across the stomach.
As Catlin fell, Conor kicked out with one leg, knocking the Roman to the ground momentarily. Before the soldier could get back to his feet, Fergus appeared behind him and took a mighty swing at him with his sword. The blow left the Roman partially decapitated and completely harmless.
Only one Roman remained standing and, upon seeing that it was so, he jumped on the nearest horse and took off at a gallop. With all the enemies out of the way, Conor moved quickly to Catlin’s side. She was lying on her back, breathing quickly as blood oozed from the three inch wound on her belly.
"Sweet Brigid!" Fergus exclaimed as he knelt down on the other side of Catlin, taking in the sight of the blood and her pale face.
Patrick began ripping strips of material off his shirt and handed them to Conor, who formed a makeshift bandage over the wound. Catlin tried to lift her head but put it down again quickly, letting out a small moan. "Try to relax, Catlin," Conor told her gently.
Fergus took hold of one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, lass. You'll be all right." Although he tried to sound confident, he couldn't keep the worry out of his voice. As he looked up at Conor, their eyes met for a brief second and Fergus saw that his concern was mirrored in the eyes of the younger man.
"We have to get her back to the Sanctuary in case the Romans come back with reinforcements," Conor said.
The others agreed so Tully went to round up some horses and Patrick went to retrieve the children. As soon as Tully returned, Fergus swung himself up onto the back of a horse and reached down as Conor and Tully handed Catlin up to him. He tried to settle her as comfortably as possible in front of him, but he knew that she was in a lot of pain. "Hang on, lass," Fergus said quietly as she leaned heavily against him. "We'll get you home."
As they set off for the Sanctuary with Fergus trying to jolt Catlin as little as possible, everyone's heart was heavy.
* * *
"Try to get her to drink this," the woman said, handing Conor a steaming cup of tea. "It will help with the pain." The tone of her voice said clearly that she believed that was all they could do for Catlin now.
"Thank you, Sheena."
The woman put a compassionate hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad, sympathetic smile before turning to go.
Conor went back into the hut and returned to Catlin's bedside. She opened her eyes as he approached and smiled weakly at him. He smiled back at her, although it was a smile tinged with sadness. As he sat down on the edge of her bed, her eyes moved to the cup he was holding.
"What's that?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Tea from Sheena," he explained. "To help with the pain. You need to try and drink some."
She started to shake her head, but he stopped her. "Please, Catlin. It will help you rest."
She conceded so Conor slipped an arm around her back and helped her to sit up partway. She winced as she was hit with a strong pain from her wound, but made no noise. At Conor’s urging, she tried her best to drink the medicinal tea. After consuming half of it, Cat sank back against the prince's arm, exhausted.
Conor lowered her back onto the bed gently, then placed the leftover tea on the ground. As he turned back to her, Catlin reached out a hand and he took it in one of his own. With his other hand, he slowly stroked her hair away from her face.
Although worn out, she looked up at him and started to speak. "Conor, your arm...." she trailed off.
"I’m all right, Cat," Conor said, touched by the fact that she was still concerned about him when she was in so much pain herself. "It was just a small cut."
Relieved, Catlin gave him another weak smile. Her lip trembled slightly, and a tear leaked out of one of her eyes and started to run down her cheek. Conor wiped it away with his thumb, then carefully rested his hand against her cheek.
"Try to rest now."
Her eyes started to flutter closed, but then they opened again and she tightened her grip on Conor's hand.
"What's wrong?" he asked, worried.
She spoke softly but firmly. "I need you to promise me something, Conor."
"What’s that?" he inquired, ready to promise her anything.
"What ever happens," she said slowly, "promise me that you won't ask Morgen to help me."
The young prince looked at her sadly, fighting with conflicting emotions.
"Please, Conor," Catlin said as he hesitated. "Promise me."
He could tell how important this was to her so, after a moment, he nodded his head in agreement.
"Thank you," she whispered. She looked at him affectionately and reached up with a hand to touch his face.
Conor caught her hand in his and held it to his cheek for a moment before lowering it to rest on the bed once more.
With no energy left, Catlin closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Conor stayed by her side. He had no intention of leaving her.
* * *
In the middle of the afternoon, Catlin awoke. When she opened her eyes, Conor felt a great sense of relief and realized that he had been worried that she would never open them again. Yet, at the same time, his anxiety increased as he could tell that she was weaker than she had been earlier. Focusing her eyes on Conor’s face seemed to be a struggle for her and when she spoke, it was in a faint whisper.
"My throat is... so dry," she managed to tell him.
"I'll get you some water," the prince said. He brushed a few strands of damp hair off of her hot face and then got up from her bedside. Before leaving the hut, he turned and looked back at Catlin. Her eyes had closed again and her breathing was obviously becoming laboured. Conor closed his own eyes briefly, feeling the heavy pain in his heart. He could not bear to lose Catlin, but he reminded himself that he needed to be strong for her. With one last glance at his wounded friend, he turned and left the hut.
Conor blinked as he stepped out into the bright light of the afternoon. As he headed for the waterfall, Fergus and Tully appeared at his side, their faces full of anxiety and concern.
"How is she?" Fergus asked in a worried voice.
Conor sighed. "Weak," he replied. "Getting weaker all the time."
"Poor lass." Fergus shook his head sadly, his eyes shiny.
"Isn't there anything more that we can do?" Tully asked, not willing to give up.
The prince shook his head. There was a great lump in his throat making it hard for him to speak. He swallowed. "All we can do is make her as comfortable as possible and remind her that we love her." Conor took a deep breath. His heart felt as if it were being crushed in his chest. "I need to get her some water."
"I'll get it," Tully said quickly, anxious for a chance to do something to help. He ran off in search of a cup that would suit the purpose.
Fergus turned to Conor, placing a large hand on his shoulder. "How are you holding up, son?"
"I'll be all right," the prince tried to assure him, not feeling the least bit all right.
"Having you by her side is the greatest comfort that she could have right now," the older man said gently. Conor nodded, trying hard not to breakdown.
Tully returned with the water and handed the cup to Conor. Fergus squeezed his shoulder once more, then Conor turned and headed back to the hut where Catlin was resting.
Pushing back the hide flap that covered the entranceway, Conor was met with a sight that made his heart stand still. He dropped the cup he was holding and it fell to the ground, spilling water over his feet. "Fergus!" he yelled at the top of his lungs in a voice that brought both Fergus and Tully running at once. Conor rushed to Catlin's bedside as the other two men appeared at the hut’s entrance.
"Sweet Brigid," Fergus whispered in a horrified voice as he and Tully saw what had made Conor yell.
Morgen lay slumped over Catlin on the bed, her body completely limp. Beneath her, Catlin was still, her eyes closed. Conor pulled the child off his friend and cradled her in his arms, searching for signs of life. "Fergus..."
Fergus took Morgen from Conor, holding her in his own arms. He checked her over carefully, then looked up at the prince, shocked. "Sweet Brigid. She's dead."
Conor stared at him for second. Then he turned desperately to Catlin's body. "Cat?" he whispered, touching her face. Afraid that she too was dead, he held his hand close over her mouth. After a brief moment that seemed to stretch on for hours, he felt a gentle breath of air on his hand. The prince sighed with immense relief and he was about to tell the others that she was alive when something caught his eye. Gently, he touched the bare skin on Catlin’s abdomen with his fingers. Where there had been a mortal wound only minutes before, now there was only smooth, undamaged skin. Conor turned to Fergus and Tully, trying to take in what he had just witnessed.
"Is she...?" Tully didn't finish the question for fear of what the answer might be.
Conor shook his head. "No. She's healed."
Before Tully could respond, Patrick entered the hut. "Is anything wrong?" he started to ask, but then he noticed his daughter lying motionless in Fergus’s arms. "What happened?" Patrick came further into the hut, knowing that something was terribly wrong. When he saw his daughter’s face, the realization hit him. Grief stricken, he moaned Morgen's name and reached out for her.
"From this life to the next," Fergus said softly as he handed the child's body to her father.
With his daughter in his arms, Patrick dropped to his knees and began to cry, his face buried in her hair. Conor and Fergus exchanged a look, both of them momentarily at a loss about what they should do next. Then Fergus placed a comforting hand on Patrick’s shoulder and Conor checked on Catlin once more.
She seemed to be in a deep sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looked peaceful and at rest, unaware of what was happening around her. "Tully," Conor called quietly, and the young man appeared at his side in an instant. "Stay with her."
Tully nodded and took Conor's place at Catlin's bedside. With Fergus’s help, the prince helped Patrick too his feet and led him outside. He would do his best to console the devastated father, but he was unable to do what he wanted more than anything at that moment; he was unable to bring Morgen back to life.
* * *
Diana paced her chamber furiously, the skirts of her gown swooshing about her every time she turned. Her soldiers had failed her. Only one had returned and he had been empty-handed. He would receive his just punishment, but what about her? She still did not have the child, the child who could bring her the power that her cold, ambitious soul desired. Determined to get what she wanted, the Roman queen decided to send out another band of soldiers first thing the next morning.
"It's no use, Diana."
The queen swung about and found her lover standing in the doorway. "Longinus?"
He walked placidly into the room. "It would be fruitless to continue searching for the girl."
"Why?" Diana demanded to know, slightly unsettled by the way that Longinus had seemed to read her thoughts.
"Because she's dead."
"What?! Who killed her?"
"No one," Longinus said, gazing at her steadily. "She gave her own life for another. A selfless act that you could never understand."
"How can you say that?" Diana snapped at him. She wasn't really offended by the statement, but her lingering ill temper caused her to react.
"Because," Longinus replied, unfazed, "I know you, Diana." He moved closer until he was able to whisper in her ear. "I know every inch of you, inside and out."
The queen slipped her hand inside the centurion’s robes and smiled at him seductively. "Perhaps you should refamiliarize yourself anyway," she suggested. "I wouldn't want you to forget anything." She kissed him, but when he didn't react she pulled back a few inches, disappointed.
He looked at her, unmoved. "You are cold and empty inside."
A provocative smile curved on her lips. "That's never stopped you before." She kissed him again and this time he responded, as she knew he would, returning the kiss with fiery passion.
* * *
"Conor!" Tully ran down the slope of the creek bank to where Conor was talking with Fergus. Patrick was spending time alone with his two surviving children, leaving Conor and Fergus to witness the end of a tumultuous day as the sun sank beneath the trees.
As Tully approached, the other two men stopped talking and turned to meet him. "It's Catlin," Tully told them. "She's waking up."
Without waiting for another word, Conor set off for Catlin's hut. When he arrived at her side, Cat turned her head and smiled at him. Conor returned the smile, immensely relieved to see that she looked much better. He sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her fondly. "How do you feel?"
Catlin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, she opened her eyes again and answered, "Better. It doesn't hurt any more at all." With that thought, she raised herself up on one elbow and tried to get a look at her wound.
"Cat..." Conor started, realizing what she was doing.
She stared at the smooth, unbroken skin where the wound should have been. She ran her fingers over the area, then looked at Conor, the realization hitting her. "Conor, you promised." Her voice started to shake. "You promised me."
"Catlin, I didn't know. I swear," Conor told her desperately. "She came in while I was outside with Fergus and Tully."
"Where is she?" Catlin demanded, trying to get out of bed. "Is she all right?"
"Cat, please." Conor gently tried to keep her from getting up.
She stopped struggling but took hold of his arm and pleaded with him. "Please, Conor, I need to know that she’s all right."
Looking at her, he was unable to speak but Catlin didn't need to hear words; she could read the pain and sadness that was written across his face. "No," she said softly, not wanting it to be true.
"I'm sorry, Catlin," was all Conor could say.
Cat pulled away from him and tried to run out of the hut, but Conor caught hold of her arm and held her back. "Catlin, please..." he gently pulled her back so she was facing him. "She's gone. There's nothing any of us can do."
Catlin kept her eyes averted from his gaze. "I caused her death," she said in a pained voice.
Conor cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him so that their eyes met. "T’wasn’t your fault," he said sincerely.
"She was just a child," she whispered, crushed.
"I know." He touched her hair briefly, wishing he could take away her pain. Then he pulled her into a hug, kissing her temple and holding her tightly.
Devastated, Catlin didn't resist. She wrapped her arms around Conor and began to cry quietly into his shoulder.
* * *
Conor watched silently as Patrick finished harnessing one of his horses to the small cart that the people of the Sanctuary had given him. He wanted to burry Morgen in their home village so he was returning there with Eilis, Bevan, and his dead daughter’s remains. Seeing that their guests were nearly ready to leave, Conor went in search of Catlin.
He found her in her hut, sitting on the edge of her bed. As he entered, she quickly tried to wipe a tear off her cheek before he could notice it, but she was too late. "Oh, Catlin," he said sadly, taking a seat beside her and putting his arm around her.
"I'm all right," she assured the prince. She wiped her eyes dry while he quietly stroked her hair. After a moment, she closed her eyes and sighed. Opening them again, she looked up at Conor. "I just wish..." Her voice started to crack, so she took a deep breath and tried again. "I just wish..." She still could not voice her thoughts, but she didn't need to.
"I know," Conor said with understanding. He pulled her closer and rested his chin on the top of her head. She leaned into him gratefully, a few more tears running down her cheeks. After a few minutes, Catlin pulled back slowly and they both stood up.
Conor placed his hands on her shoulders and left them there for a moment before reaching one hand up to cup her jaw so he could wipe away her tears with his thumb. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. "It's time to say goodbye," he told her. "Are you ready?"
Catlin nodded her silent response and let him lead her out of the hut by the hand.
* * *
All ready to leave the Sanctuary, Patrick turned to say goodbye to the four warriors who had taken his family in. He shook hands with both Fergus and Tully before moving over to Conor.
"I wish things had turned out better for you and your children," the prince told him sincerely.
Still filled with grief, Patrick was unable to speak for moment. Finally, he swallowed and smiled gratefully at Conor. "Your kindness will not be forgotten." Then he gripped the prince's hand and shook it firmly. Conor placed his left hand over both their right hands and held it there for a brief moment until the two men nodded at each other and Patrick moved on.
Standing before Catlin, he looked at her without any hint of judgement or accusation in his eyes. "Please don't blame yourself, Catlin," Patrick said in a heartfelt voice. "She's free now." He pulled her into a brief hug, then released her. Without another word, he returned to his children. He helped Eilis up onto the back of her horse while Beathan climbed into the cart. He looked back at the four warriors once more before turning to leave. Then, leading the horse and cart on foot, Patrick and his children left the Sanctuary and disappeared into the forest.
Catlin watched them leave with a heavy heart. She thought she might break down and cry again, but then realized that she had no more tears left to shed. Fergus and Tully had already returned to the core of the Sanctuary, but Catlin knew that Conor was still there. She sensed his presence as he came and stood close behind her. Without hesitation, she turned to him and he took her in his arms once more. She let him hold her for several minutes, neither of them saying a word. Finally, she pulled back and looked up and him.
"Are you going to be all right?" Conor asked her, still holding her hands in his.
Looking into the warmth of his eyes, a smile slowly spread across her face. "Yes," she told him decidedly. "I'll be fine."
Relieved, Conor returned the smile wholeheartedly. Then he placed an arm about her shoulders and she slipped one around his waist. Together they began to walk slowly, following in Fergus and Tully's footsteps.
~*~The End~*~