Druantia's Braids

Druantia's Braids

Druantia's Children – Book One

L. S. Fayne

Copyright 2009 L. S. Fayne

Publication by Fayne Artists

ISBN-13: 978-1-60903-023-0

Smashwords Edition

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Some historic events are written into a fantasy forum. The author reserves the right to Freedom of Speech to express her views on some historic events. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

The Chronicles of Haidis

From the Author

BOOKS BY L. S. FAYNE

19th Century Series:  The O'Byrne Daughters

Budding Magic:  Book One

It's Just Magic!:  Book Two

Gathering of the Raven:  Book Three

20th Century Series: Druantia's Children

Christmas in the House of O'Byrne:  Book One

Druantia's Braids:  Book Two

There Can't Be Shadows Without Light:  Book Three

INTENDED AUDIENCE

L. S. Fayne writes for adults fourteen and up.

This book describes a new age birthing method. It is not in any way meant to belittle the pain of childbirth. I thought it was very beautiful. For more information please reference the following web address. http://www.orgasmicbirth.com/

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Prologue

The O'Byrne dynasty was established by the original seven O'Byrne sisters, who came to America in the 1840's. They were Druids, magically gifted and enhanced by Druantia herself—Queen of the Druids. They were young, beautiful, and wild. Their magic and energy created—what is today—one of the most powerful family dynasties in America.

Adell is the Matron for the O'Byrne Ancestral estate. She is one of Haley's—the seventh sister—descendents. She, and all Matrons before her, was chosen by the magical guardians of the property. The guardians were on the property long before the sisters set foot onto their hallowed grounds.

This year has brought some strange misadventures to the Christmas celebrations. Adell's family rode through these misadventures with humor and compassion, but what the family didn't know, was that there was a phantom enemy that had been plotting for years to overthrow the Haley family line of the O'Byrne, and take over the powerful and wealthy seat. Everything escalated at Tribunal when the Children of Vevila attacked the counsel and the family in residence. Two of the O'Byrne family died that day and others were injured. Unfortunately for the attackers, many of them were also killed, and those not killed were taken as prisoners.

Interpreted by Amber Rose O'Byrne - 1979

The Seven O'Byrne Sisters Were…

Birth/Death

Kellan Brenna O'Byrne - February 6th, 1824 – 1916

Alana Jace O'Byrne - April 19th, 1825 – 1926

Dara Rowan O'Byrne - April 19th, 1825 – 1911

Rhoswen Aidan O'Byrne - August 25th, 1827 – 1929

Vevila Erin O'Byrne - December 18th, 1828 – Still alive

Kane Rois O'Byrne - October 27th, 1829 – 1861

Haley Caitlin O'Byrne - June 2nd, 1838 – 1943

Diary of Aine Rowan O'Byrne – Last entries

May 29, 1838

I know that I will not outlive the birth of this daughter. I've known for most of my life that I would one day die bearing forth a daughter. I've accepted this. Keegan, my love, has been stolen from me and this will be our last child. I had not foreseen that he would be taken first.

I've tried to prepare my sister Caryn, but she will not listen. After I'm gone she will have no choice but to read that which I have seen, and prepare the people for what is to come. They think that war and the English are all that they need concern themselves about, they are wrong. For nature will make its own demands.

I will name her Haley, meaning ingenious one. I can see her avoiding most situations and settling others with talent as well as magic.

I've named all my daughters just days before they were to be born.

Kellan was the first. She would be strong, bold and would fight for what was right. I named her for the Warrior Princess. Kellan is living up to her name. She is only fourteen but is already showing the signs of being a leader. She definitely keeps her other sisters in line. She is not traditionally pretty, but her angular features are interesting. Her dark brown hair emphasizes her amethyst eyes. Those who dare in the village—call her witch.

Then there is Alana and Dara, the twins. Both girls have curly flaming red hair, blue eyes and big grins. Both could be caught getting into mischief on a daily basis. The name Alana means the bright fair one, and the name Dara means one with wisdom and compassion. Usually, people are first drawn to Alana's bright, friendly face, but then tend to drift over to Dara for her kindness and compassion. Dara has an old soul—eye contact with Dara could be very disconcerting. It was as if she knew things way beyond her age. The twins are thirteen now and have very distinct personalities. Most people do not mistake one twin for the other.

Rhoswen will be eleven in August. She and Kellan have the same coloring—dark hair and amethyst eyes—but Kellan looks hearty and strong, while Rhoswen looks very feminine and fragile. I know that the fragility is very deceptive. Rhoswen is exceptionally strong. Of all the daughters, Rhoswen is the most spiritual and pure. I have spied Rhoswen walking with Druantia in the meadow.

I get Goosebumps when I see the two together. Druantia is our Goddess and is the Queen of the Druids—she does not come to call on just anyone—that she visits directly with my eleven year old daughter is very unnerving.

All of us O'Byrne's that carry magic will meet Druantia at least once in our lifetime. That time will be during the initiation of our personal magic. It is said that we are descended directly from Druantia. I, in my heart believe it to be so, why else would one such as she, take such an interest in those such as ourselves.

Vevila is my fifth daughter. Vevila is only nine but is already on her way to becoming a vivacious, green eyed, auburn haired enchantress. She is a whirlwind of activity, and can sing as good as, and in my eyes better, than the angels can. Her voice is pure and delightful. It's a little early yet but I believe that when she matures into her magic, she will be able to trance groups of people with the sound of her voice.

I'm most concerned about Kane, my sixth daughter. Before she was born I had visions of turbulence, of battles, and even war. Kane was in the middle of those dreams. The name Kane means the bringer of war. Kane is tall for her age and the only daughter that has blond hair. She has intense, dark blue eyes that are typically stormy, and can flash to purple. She questions everything. She will not take anything at face value.

Kane is eight now and a little scrapper. She will not back down if she feels that she is in the right. I've been trying to teach her to see all sides of a conflict before jumping into the fray—so far I've had very little luck. Kellan is having more luck, she is teaching her strategy. In so doing, Kane is seeing that it is not strategic to fight about everything.

Return to TOC

Chapter One

The sleeper watched apprehensively as Druantia battled for her life—and the lives of all those whom she held dear. He tried to wake himself, he really did not want to be seeing this, but he couldn't break away from the dream. He was dragged in deeper. He was Druantia—no—that wasn't right—he was Randy—Randy.

Sweat ran into her eyes as she lunged out of the way of the sword. He was just toying with her. Would this battle never end? Would they ever find peace? Could she trust him with the truth? Probably not!

You know what I want! he bellowed, Why don't you just give it to me? Stop this foolishness!

I can't, she screamed back at him, her white pupils within the vivid green eyes flashed brightly, you don't know what you're asking.

Randy's dream self, held his breath as he watched the tall, dark haired angel lunge toward her heart with the huge blade. He let it out again as she sidestepped and smacked him on the back of the head with her own sword. Randy gasped as the transparent blade seared across the angels scull—exposing bone—but not blood. The wound quickly sealed itself. The angel snarled at her, his eyes were livid as they promised revenge for splitting open his head. He lunged at her again. She smoothly stepped aside. He stopped to stare at her.

They are my children, he stormed at her, his eyes blazing that eerie blue light, They are mine—and I want them.

"You just want to play with them—and to use them, she swung her blade at his legs. He jumped back. You don't understand the personal sacrifice that is involved with their care. They were given to me to protect."

Sacrifice, he scoffed, "of course I want to play with my children. They had no right giving them to you!"

"You lost that right long ago, Father, she stormed at him, When you turned your back on my Mother."

What do you know of such things? His voice was derisive.

"I remember!" she sneered at him.

He swung his blade towards her head, catching one of the vivid red braids.

She screamed in agony. He stopped and stared at her in confusion. One braid had been nicked and blood dripped from the individual hairs—her scalp had not been touched.

He frowned as he watched the small pool of blood. His kind—and now hers—did not bleed. She cried out in torment and anguish.

She cradled her braids as if they were living things—which they were. All the worlds and realities which Druantia influenced where bond up within her braids. She intimately knew the patterns of all her children.

In her torment, she dropped her sword, totally oblivious to the fact of her vulnerability. If he were to choose that moment—he could destroy her. Understanding dawned on him and he slowly lowered his sword.

They bound my children up within your hair, he stated with astonishment and reached toward her. She flinched back.

"They are my own children—closer to me than to you, she trembled. They are human—long removed from your influence. Would you have made such a sacrifice for them? her voice was low, he had to lean toward her to hear her words. Would you have committed such to them?" She insisted.

No, he said feeling nauseous. The mere thought of it was repugnant to him.

Sickened and wounded she withdrew to account the losses of those hairs. Rhebul withdrew thoughtfully—sorrowful for the pain that he had caused his true daughter. Maybe she was right—maybe he was too far removed from their humanity. He had loved her mother long ago. He turned away.

Randy fought his way back up from his forced rapport and cried himself back to sleep. His dream shifted to his sister Rachel, he could hear her crying out his name. He looked around toward the sound of her voice, but couldn't find her. He looked down at his feet—and found a hole.

Randy! Rachel's voice came from within the hole, get me out of here.

He could see her, and see that she was too big to come out of the small hole. He quickly got down on his knees and started pulling the dirt away with his hands. Rachel was crying for him to hurry—that it was dark—and she was scared. Every time he pulled the earth away—it grew back tighter.

Dad help me! he yelled.

He looked up from the hole to see his father laying in a bed, his eyes were open—but seeing nothing. He then remembered that his dad was dead. Tears were streaming down his face—Rachel was still trapped in the hole. He could see his mother off in the distance.

Mom! He yelled, Rachel is trapped, and I can't get her out. Mom! She turned to look at him, but didn't see him. She wandered off away from them.

Mother! he screamed as she disappeared from sight.

He was dreaming of the robed ones, those who tried to take over the house of O'Byrne at Christmas time. The three-eye was killing his people and he was running—only he was sunk to his knees in mud and couldn't really run.

Natilie was there with Druantia's great knife. She swirled cutting down the three-eye.

The dream shifted and he was watching Natilie dance. She was so beautiful. Her cheeks glowed with a healthy bloom, she smiled in delight, and her eyes sparkled with purple fire. Her dark curly hair bounced as she swirled about. Her gown was sheer creamy loveliness and twirled around her ankles. He could just see the beginnings of the bulge of her unborn baby. He was mesmerized and couldn't stop watching her dance. She swirled, and leapt, danced and swirled some more.

Kay heard his call from her bedroom. She placed the pillow over her ears trying to drown out the sounds from her tormented son. She was so afraid. She had thought she would find a haven with her husband's family. Instead she found herself a stranger amongst an immoral people who performed acts of magic and lived by some code she couldn't understand.

Just a few days ago the family had been attacked, and she had witnessed the brutal slayings as the family defended themselves. People died that night! Where were the police? Today, they went about their business, casually putting the house back in order. And what's that about Natilie? How could they possibly think that it was okay for a fourteen year old girl to be pregnant? She didn't even know who the father was.

Her youngest daughter Kelly was talking about seeing ghosts. Terrified that her daughter had witches powers like her brother, Kay questioned Leah about Kelly's ghosts. Leah had assured her that many young children could see ghosts, that neither Kelly nor Rachel had budding magics. She said that the ghosts would probably settle out once things settled into a natural pattern again. Leah's nonchalant explanation did not put Kay's mind at ease.

Kay had to get her kids out of this house—but how? She didn't have any money and had nowhere to go. She suddenly remembered the secret pool in the caverns below, and started making plans. She tormented back and forth about Randy. How could she leave her son? How could she possibly take him with her? It had been bad enough when he was diagnosed as autistic, now he had these visions—or hallucinations. How could she possibly manage him? She just could not deal with it all. She drifted into an uneasy sleep where she kept dreaming that Rachel was stuck down inside a hole.

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Chapter Two

The apprentice paused outside Andrew's door. He hated waking up the old man. Not from any concern about Andrew's health, or the cost from the lack of sleep, but because Andrew was just plain mean. Josh sighed as he pushed open the door. He stood in the doorway looking at Andrew. There wasn't much to see, just a bald, wrinkled old man snoring into his pillow as saliva pooled by his cheek.

Josh wrinkled up his nose as the smell of dirty, old man wafted toward the opening of the door. There was no telling when Andrew had last bathed. There had been a bet going on in the dorm for how long Andrew would go without bathing, but as days turned into weeks, then into months, the bet lost momentum. They simply stopped watching for that miraculous event.

Well, he thought, he might as well do it! He had drawn the short stick this time. Then he grinned. He might as well make it fun! He slowly closed the door behind him as he returned to his room to borrow Tiny's bell.

What are you doing? Tiny surprised Josh. Josh looked up and up into Tiny's angry eyes. Tiny wasn't tiny at all. He was the biggest kid Josh had ever seen. He was Stone's son—and a giant just like his father.

I was just borrowing it, Josh said nervously, I have to wake up Andrew.

Well, don't do it wearing your pajamas, Tiny grinned, wear your ninja Halloween costume. I'll help you. Josh ran to his own bunk area and pulled out the costume. He turned as Tiny smeared florescent yellow gunk all over his face, then pulled the hood over the mess.

Hey! Josh complained, but grew silent as Tiny smeared the gunk all over his own face. Tiny was just wearing black sweats and a dark hoodie—but the affect was eerie.

Let's go, Tiny said as he grabbed the big bell, holding the bell tong carefully with this hand so it wouldn't clatter.

They crept silently to Andrew's room and quietly opened the door. They stealthily made their way to both sides of Andrew's bed. Tiny suddenly rang the bell as loud as it would ring, while Josh shook and growled at the old man. They both sprinted back out the door. They heard Andrew's screams and the sound of his boots hitting the door.

I hate those kids! he could be heard muttering when he realized there was no real attack.

Louisa grinned as she spied the two tormentors sprinting from the room.

The two stormed back to their dorm room where they swiftly chucked the outfits and scrubbed down their faces. They grinned at each other as they made their way back down to the living quarters where everyone seemed to be gathering.

It was two o'clock in the morning when Andrew got belled. It would have been unfortunate for the apprentices if he had caught the little jerks. He would have had no remorse if one of those boots had stopped them dead. He sighed and turned over to go back to sleep. He punched his pillow in aggravation, frustrated with his weakening abilities. There was a time when no damn little snipes would catch him unprepared, sleeping or not. As he lay there, he started getting annoyed with all the noise coming from around the house. He threw off the covers and slammed out of his room. Someone was going to get an earful when he found out who let the brats out of their bedrooms.

He stomped down the stairs and stood still, surprised by all the ruckus. It wasn't just the little kids out of bed—everyone seemed to be out of bed.

You're finally here, Dillon frowned at him, We will be starting soon.

Andrew watched in confusion as Dillon made his way across the room. Andrew then stomped off to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. The room was buzzing with gossip. He could hear little groups around the table talking about the O'Byrne house. He took a second look at an unfamiliar woman. Another redhead—must be a Haley, he thought aggrieved. What now? She had her own special group around her, mainly the young men. Andrew snorted—they were making fools out of themselves.

He glanced around irritably, what the hell were all these people doing here! Even the littlest of the children were running around. Louisa should know better than allowing them out of their beds. Every since Ryan and Jake went to that damn house, that's all he'd been hearing about.

Andrew was startled to see Ben sitting along the wall talking earnestly to Dillon. That wasn't good. The two were up to something. He knew that Ben was supposed to still be at the O'Byrne house with the counsel. They were supposed to wrap everything up by tomorrow. Damn, he had made plans with Garry to squeeze off some rounds with the dark-matter particle guns. They never did get to test them after the last modifications. He thumped his coffee mug down irritably, cursing as the steaming coffee burnt his hand.

Elders, please report to the chapel. Dillon called out.

It was only then that Andrew saw the bruising around Ben's neck, and the burn marks streaking his hair and down his arm. Ben's normally immaculate clothes were dirty and crumpled. Andrew sighed and picked up his coffee to follow the others into the chapel. His bed seemed very far away. He quietly seated himself into the most comfortable chair and prepared to wait.

Andrew studied the men as they walked into the room. There were only seven elders left. There should have been nine, but no one had stepped into the two roles when Jarrod and then David made peace. There was some talk about Louisa taking one of the spots. Andrew scoffed at the idea of a woman filling in as an elder. That was just stupid. He looked around to see if Jacob had returned with Ben. He was the Kane arbiter, and had been at the O'Byrne tribunals. He didn't see him anywhere.

The first elder entering the room was Robert. He was the oldest, being ninety-seven. Andrew noticed that he still had a spring to his step, and knew from experience that he could still flay a person with that mind speech of his. Thomas entered more slowly—he was eighty-one, and was walking stiffly—feeling every jolt. Andrew could sympathize with him. Arty and Taylor, father and son, followed Thomas—both were talking loudly. Taylor was only fifty-seven and Arty was eighty-one. Garry, thirty-eight, claimed the seat next to Andrew. Ben closed the doors.

Our ancestral home has been attacked, Dillon started, I'll let Ben fill you in.

Ben tiredly made his way up to the front. Andrew stared at him with displeasure. Andrew found him utterly appalling. No black man, no matter if he is an O'Byrne, should have so much political power. They didn't even know for sure if Ben was a Kane. The baby had been abandoned on their front porch long ago. Jenny should never have brought the brat inside. So what if the baby turned out to be of O'Byrne blood—look at him. Andrew snarled to himself as he glanced around. Almost all the Kane's were fair with blond hair. Ben was big, powerfully muscled, and as black as they come. He looked up to see Ben staring down at him.

He raised his eyes up aggressively—his displeasure concerning Ben was no secret. He had contested Ben's presence since the day he had been brought inside the house. Only his apparent popularity, had given him the privilege of being the O'Byrne's adjudicator, the one to mediate over all tribunal matters. If he got himself trashed during the last tribunal—good!

"The Lost Children of Vevila are not any such thing, Ben's voice was raspy and he paused to drink from his mug of tea, They were actually a product created by Jack Byron."

The elders started with surprised recognition.

But we blocked his magic and cast him out, Thomas exclaimed. He should have been powerless!

His magic was blocked, Ben went on, "but he was determined to create another Keith—and he was successful."

A three-eye? Andrew spoke out in horror, Was he mad!

Andrew remembered Keith. He had been born between a father and his daughter. The result had been a three-eyed monster who had massacred a large number of the Kane, before he had taken his own life. There was no controlling him. He had every O'Byrne gift and protection carried in the gene pool. He was very demented and selfish. The only thing that had finally stopped him was his own hand when he realized, that in his rage, he had accidently killed his own mother—the only one who had ever loved him.

Successful you say? Garry frowned at him, how so?

A girl was born with three eyes, Ben continued after sipping his tea.

He was tired and sore from the battle that had almost stolen his life. He really did not want to be here explaining this, but felt that the Kane were the best group to take over. Jack Byron had been a Kane—this was their mess.

"Jack had kidnapped an O'Byrne female from the Haley line when she was just eleven years old. You may remember her, her name was Jewle. Lidia, the Haley matron, petitioned us to aid in the search. None of us could see Jewle. All the O'Byrne branches were looking for her, but could not find her. Someone very powerful was blocking us. Jewle was a very strongly, gifted child and became the base of Jacks experiments. Ben looked around at the assembled elders. There is no way he could have done this thing on his own. Someone was magically assisting him."

"Don't look at us! Arty said, appalled, none of us would want another Keith! We barely survived that night!"

What about the three-eye, another elder called out, How on earth do we kill it?

We have the particle guns, Garry grinned, they should be able to stop anything.

Andrew rolled his eyes, leave it to Garry to blab about their new weapons. His eye's got suspicious when Ben's snort turned into a coughing bout. Ben sipped some more tea and stared at Andrew.

"I guess it has passed your notice that the guns are no longer in your care. Ryan and Jake lifted them to help with the situation they found themselves in, Dillon informed Garry, a situation of which they had no business being in to begin with. We will definitely talk about that later."

Andrew could feel his blood boil. He glared over at Dillon. They were all against him, all plotting to make him look feeble. Ryan and Jake stole from him, and they were all looking like it was a simple prank. He took a deep breath. He stared down in surprise at his tightly clinched fists. He was getting too old for this. Maybe, he was feeble.

How did they work? Garry asked excitedly, Did they kill it?

No, Leah—Druantia's priestess—confiscated them before they could be used in the tunnels, Ben answered.

Tunnels, I didn't think about that, Garry frowned.

So how do we kill it? Robert asked fearfully. We couldn't kill Keith.

It—she—is dead. Ben answered, Brought down by a kid with Druantia's blade. Ben was not going to discuss Adell's daughter, Natilie with this group. A member of their family had aided in Jewle's kidnapping, and is also being held with the surviving raiders. Jack was killed before they attacked the house—by the three-eyed herself.

That's justice, Andrew's eye's glowed greedily, Druantia's blade, you say?

They are all being held at the O'Byrne house, Dillon ignored Andrew's question, "and the Kane are being requested to flush out the rest of these people. We need to question the survivors and find their home-place. We need to investigate possible problems and present evidence to the arbiters so they can be dispositioned."

Right now? Andrew argued, can't it wait for tomorrow.

It could, a feminine voice answered from the rear of the room, "but we don't know if there are anymore Keith's." The elders were astonished by the redheaded woman as she made her way up to the front of the room.

I'm Jeri, she continued, "I can take two people with me back to the house. Phillip, the Matrons husband, will fly the prisoners up here when someone has organized their security. Do not underestimate these people, Veniesha might be dead, but there are still others programmed to destroy our families. There is a lot of inbreeding with this bunch. They are very dangerous."

And yet a kid killed the three-eye. Garry scoffed.

Only because Veniesha thought she was invincible, Jeri stared him down, she nearly was!

I will go, Andrew surprised everybody by saying.

Not him! Jeri stated.

Now look miss, Arty started but stopped when Jeri turned to face him.

Her blue eye's reflected her unwavering attitude. Little purple flecks stirred within their midst. This was not the type of female who the Kane were used to dealing with. She was strong and confident. Her angular body toned by constant physical exertion. She was not by any description of the word—meek.

Jeri knew what was at stake. She was not going to let these bigoted old men tell her what-was-what. She, her friends, and family had nearly died this night. She had felt the flush of greed from that old man at the mention of Natilie's moon blade. She would not let him near her.

I will take you—Dillon, is it? You choose another to go with us, Jeri decided.

You can't just come in here and make demands, Robert pushed himself in front of her. We elders make the decisions around here!

 She just turned and walked from the room.

I believe—she just did, Dillon turned to follow her.

You aren't going anywhere! Robert bellowed as he grabbed Dillon's arm.

You forget yourself old man! Dillon told him, blistering the hand with a glance. "We—all of us—are free men and women.