Page 2 of Queen of the Hollow Hills (Eagles and Crows #3)

CHAPTER 1

T he sky above the henge of the three sisters shimmered in brilliant pink and violet hues. As the sun sank toward the horizon, the heavy feeling in my chest told me the year was drawing to a close. With the arrival of Samhain, the year would end—a year where I became queen of the Brigantes, lost both of my parents, became a wife, and took all that was mine into a firm grip. But the danger had not yet passed. A new year would begin, and with it, fear that the visions of threats from beyond our shores would come to fruition loomed large.

Rome was coming.

Everyone was asleep.

Except me.

Cormag, sensing I was growing tense, slipped his hand into mine. “Watch the fire spinners, my blackthorn queen,” he whispered.

Beside me, Cormag’s dog Fergus nosed my other hand. The dog and his master seemed determined to pull me from dark thoughts. I patted the dog, smiled gratefully at my husband, and then looked across the plain. We stood on a podium that looked over the mother’s ring, the middle of the three henges, watching the revelry that preceded the rites of Samhain.

At the center of the circle, drummers sat in a ring. Their thundering music drifted across the sacred plain. Not far from them, the fire spinners twirled flaming balls, making streaking lines of orange against the darkening skyline. Bonfires dotted the scene. The Brigantes sang, danced, and drank. Tonight was one of celebration and remembrance. This past year had seen so much loss, but I had also wed a man for whom my love grew tenfold in the months since we’d married. Amid darkness, there had been light.

I looked beyond the henges to the mounds that held my ancestors. There, the kings and queens of the Brigantes lay at rest. The site was so ancient, the mounds so old, that some names had been forgotten. But tonight… The veil would thin tonight, and the dead would mix with the living again.

My long black gown fluttered around me as a soft wind blew, lifting strands of my hair. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind’s caress, and listened. Once more, my mind drifted to the darkness beyond my shores.

I had sent spies to Rome to try to determine what was happening. In truth, I knew little of Rome save the old stories of Caesar’s invasion in the south. We did not fear Rome in Brigantes lands. They were like some imaginary monster from an old tale. But now… The Catuvellauni’s war with the Atrebates and Trinovantes had caused Celtic kings Verica and Aedd Mawr to flee to Rome for help. But to what end? Would Rome really help them? Everyone said that Roman Emperor Caligula was a madman. I honored my horse but would not have named him one of my counselors, as Caligula had done. Nor would I ever expect my people to revere me as a goddess. Would such a man even care about the fate of two small tribes from some far-off island?

I sighed heavily.

“The first star is on the horizon. Look, my love,” Cormag whispered, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Now, the moon shall rise, and I will see the year’s dawning at this sacred plane. Even in Votadini lands, they say there is nothing more beautiful than moonrise on Samhain at the henge of the three sisters.”

I gave my husband a grateful smile.

I had married Cormag to make an ally and because I had seen something in him. That instinct had proven true over and over again. Since our return from the chaos in Setantii lands and our hasty marriage, Cormag had proven himself a loving husband and tempered consort, slowly winning over the chieftains with his stoic manner and quiet eagerness to serve our tribe. The past months with him had proven my instinct right.

“Let us walk amongst the people before M?d calls,” I said.

Cormag gave me a soft smile. “As you wish.”

I looked back at Corva. The red-robed battle maiden of the Cailleach had been watching the crowd, her eyes looking for any sign of danger. Since joining my court, the priestess did not stray far from me.

“Any protest if we join them?” I asked her, gesturing to the crowd.

“None yet, but the night is young.”

“Corva needs an ale,” I told Cormag with a smirk.

He chuckled lightly.

“If you ply me with ale, then you cannot blame me if I miss an assassin’s blade.”

“If you miss an assassin’s blade, I don’t suppose I’ll be around long enough to blame you.”

Corva merely shook her head, and we joined the others.

I looked over my shoulder once more at the mounds, spotting the bonfire lit beside my father’s tomb. A brief smile rose, but my gaze fell on my mother’s tomb nearby. Dark thoughts swirled once more, and I looked away. I rolled my shoulders back, cleared my throat, and smiled as Cormag, Corva, and I worked through the crowd.

“My queen.”

“Queen Cartimandua.”

“King Consort Cormag.”

“Blessings upon you both.”

“Good Samhain tidings.”

Someone had passed Cormag and me mugs of ale at some point. True to her word, Corva drank nothing. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and she merely watched the crowd. But she was not the only one. A few paces behind us were Conall and a handful of Brigantes guards.

Along with them were two Votadini men who had joined my court alongside Cormag. Unlike Corva, who tried to move through the crowd unseen, Damhan and Brodi, towering in height, wide as two men, and painted in the manner of the Votadini, were hard to miss. The Votadini men were longtime companions of Cormag, friends since childhood. Black-haired Damhan wore a stern expression and eyed everyone with skepticism or annoyance. But Brodi, with a smattering of freckles on his cheeks and long, wavy, auburn hair, seemed far more pleased to be in Rigodonum—and amongst Brigantes ladies. As much as the people smiled and bowed to us, excited for the festivities and to see us amongst them, I still sensed an underlying feeling of disquiet. The Carvetti had been defeated and drawn into the Brigantes against their will, Parisii rage still simmered, and the Setantii… In the time since the insurrection, Ystradwel and Cam had done everything to set things back to right. But a question remained. How had Cam miscalculated the extent of the growing discontent amongst his people?

When we passed the drummers, a teenage girl rushed toward me, her cheeks red, her eyes shining.

Corva stepped forward, but I gestured for her to hold.

“My queen,” she said excitedly. “Won’t you and the king consort dance with us?” she asked, gesturing.

I smiled at her enthusiasm and then turned to my husband. “Well?”

He nodded in assent.

I turned to Corva. “Coming?”

She arched an eyebrow at me and gave me a knowing look.

I chuckled.

The girl paused and then looked to the two Votadini men. “And you, gentlemen? There are many ladies eager to dance. Won’t you join us?”

“Oh, aye. Thank you, lass,” Brodi agreed eagerly, going with the girl.

Damhan huffed an annoyed sigh, but Cormag gave him a good-natured clap on the back and led him forward.

We danced in a circle around the bonfire as the drummers played. Brodi locked arms with the young woman who had invited us, smiling brightly at her. Damhan did his best not to have fun, but eventually, a small smile lit up his features. My arm locked with Cormag’s on one side and the young girl on the other, we laughed and spun. Across the ring of dancers, I saw Chieftain Aedan and his warriors with several young ladies who’d noticed the young chieftain’s good looks.

Overhead, the sky grew a deep shade of purple, with orange hues trimming the skyline as the last of the sun faded from the horizon. We spun in circles, the drums beating so loudly that I could feel them pounding in my chest. As we did so, I looked across the landscape at the others gathered there—including Venu and Alys. The pair did not dance. Instead, they stayed in a crowd of former-Carvetti companions.

When my gaze fell on Venu, he smiled at me.

I hadn’t known what to expect from my new chieftain and former love. Part of me wanted to heed Eddin’s warning that Venu could not be trusted, but Venutiux was trying hard to show me his fidelity. While Alys treated me with feigned indifference at every turn, smothering hatred that lived just under the surface, Venu was making an honest effort. I had spared his life, and he was grateful. We would find our way forward.

Soon, the reel came to an end.

Before the next song could begin, a priestess sounded a carnyx.

I turned to see the white-robed priestesses of Brigantia and the black-robed ladies of the Cailleach making their way from the henge of the Crone, rejoining us at the center henge once more.

Moonrise was coming.

It would soon begin.

The trumpeting of the carnyx silenced the crowd as the priestesses climbed the narrow earthen steps to stand upon the banks of the henge.

M?d gestured for Cormag and me to join them.

The image of the black-robed priestesses of the Cailleach on one side of the henge opening, the white-robed priestesses of Brigantia on the other, was striking.

Leaving the others behind, Cormag and I joined the priestesses.

“My queen,” M?d said, bowing to me. “King Consort. Come. The wheel is turning.”

Onnen gave us a brief nod and joined her priestesses on the henge wall.

Following M?d, Cormag and I climbed to the top of the earthen bank. We could see the path between the henges to the north and south from that height.

The people cleared the pathway and stood to the side, watching and waiting.

I looked overhead, my eyes settling on the stars of the three sisters watching over my people.

M?d raised her hands and turned to face the people.

“The wheel of time has spun once more,” she called out loudly. “Tonight, we summon the Cailleach, lady of winter. Rise from the hollow hills, divine lady of darkness. With your wolves at your side, descend from the mountains. The harvest has been taken in. Brigantia sleeps, her womb full, growing throughout the winter to awake and give birth to new life come spring. Arise, Cailleach. The Brigantes call you. Arise. The wheel has turned. The new year has come. In these dark months, arise and guide us!”

The carnyx sounded once more.

We stood on the windy plain, our eyes toward the dark henge in the north. The last of the sun had gone. There was no sound save that of the whistling wind and the soft flicker of torches.

And then…

My breath caught in my throat.

The moon began to rise. Lifting from the horizon, a ball of pristine silver, the glowing orb’s light perfectly aligned with the northernmost henge’s gateways. As the moon rose slowly, the silvery beams reflected on the spearstone slurry that painted the henges and the landscape around us. With the precision of threading a needle, the moon rose, casting its light through the gateway of the northern henge, shimmering down through the henge of the mother and onward to that of the maiden.

All at once, the henge of the three sisters lit up like sunlight reflecting from polished metal.

I winced, the moonlight becoming as blinding as the sun, and then looked out at the plain. Dazzling with iridescent color, the entire henge glowed like the stars overhead.

I cast my gaze upward, seeing a shimmering iridescence cascading toward the sky. It was luminous. The light rose as if reaching out to the stars themselves.

I felt the henge’s magic deep in my chest. Whatever the mystery of the henge was, it was more than just the Cailleach and Brigantia. It was more than just our mortal realm. As the moonlight rose, those of us standing on the sacred plain had all stepped into an in-between realm.

While the priestesses held their mysteries close to their hearts, I knew that no one really remembered the true purpose of the three sisters henge anymore. Created so long ago, before we even called ourselves Brigantes, its true origin and use were lost. An ancient people lived in a world before ours. I did not know their names, but our rituals were echoes of theirs, our knowledge mere slivers of what they knew. As I watched the sky move with colorful light, I felt that ancient power.

I set my hand on my heart, touching the symbol emblazoned by the Cailleach on my skin. I knew with great certainty that the symbol was somehow tied to those ancient people, the Cailleach herself, and the magic of the hollow hills from which the little ones watched.

Standing on the edge of those mysteries, I could just feel their power. Like I was waiting outside of a great hall, swelling music playing inside, I could hear the rhythm but could not make out the details with clarity. Whatever that ancient power was, it resonated deep within me.

I glanced up at Cormag. His eyes were on the sky. I saw the colorful lights in the liquid pools of his eyes.

Child of the Cailleach.

My husband.

At that moment, I saw something luminous shimmering from within him, and my heart filled with love.

We stood in awe, watching as the moon climbed higher and higher in the sky. As it did so, the glow of the moonbeams on the spearstone began to fade, and the aurora over us dissipated like fading smoke.

As it dwindled, the heavy feeling dislodged from my chest.

I am queen of a mystery I do not understand, but I will honor and protect it with my dying breath.

Once the astral anomaly had passed, the carnyx sounded once more.

The sound of it made my shoulders tremble, a sensation like I was being pulled back within myself washing over me.

Cormag gently set his hand on my waist and pulled me close, kissing the top of my head.

The priestess sounded the horn once more and again a third time.

The sound echoed across the plain.

When it faded, Mod turned to the people.

“Brigantes! The Cailleach has risen. Winter has come. We honor the great lady of darkness. May your hearths give you warmth, your stores nourish you, and the moon’s light guide you. Brigantes, be blessed. Our lands have been watered with blood in this changeable year. Let the ground sleep, and come spring, we will begin anew. Blessed may you be.”

“Blessed may you be,” we all called in reply.

My eyes drifted to the sky once more.

Our lands watered with blood… What crops would such a thing bring?