Keeper Of The Light Read Free

light brown hair and clear blue eyes, and his easygoing manner almost made one forget the power in his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms.
    Even now he felt as strong and unmoving as one of the standing stones in the circle outside Sion. He seemed not to notice Rioghan’s sudden tight hold on his waist when, at last, the horses burst out of the forest and took up a gallop toward home.
    Rising before them, in the center of a wide meadow, surrounded by the tall black silhouettes of widely spaced holly trees, was the circular earth-and-stone fortress of Cahir Cullen. Its tall wooden gates opened as they approached, and the three warriors cantered their horses inside. Rioghan’s two dogs stayed right along with them.
    There were some twenty round houses, made with heavy wicker framework thickly covered with clay, scattered across the torchlit fortress grounds. As always, Rioghan could not help but think of how insubstantial they seemed compared to the cave that was her own home. Donaill jogged his black stallion in and out among the houses until he reached one near the rear of Cahir Cullen’s curving inner wall. Quickly Rioghan slid down to the ground.
    “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him. She could see him better now in the soft light of the torches. His fine features and strong jaw were quite familiar, for she had indeed seen him before at this place; but it was strange to see those same blue eyes and warm smile directed at her.
    “You are most welcome,” he said. “Thank you for coming here to help us.” And with that, he reined his horse in a half circle and rode away.
    Rioghan took a deep breath, lifted her black leather sack to one shoulder, then turned toward the house, signaling her dogs Scath and Cogar to stay outside.
    Two women opened the door as she approached it. “Rioghan, we are so glad that you are here,” the first one said, reaching out to take her by the shoulder.
    “Please, come in, come in,” said the other. “She is here, but we do not know what to do for her.”
    Rioghan followed them into the small round dwelling. A low fire burned in the central hearth, and a scattering of flat stone lamps held flickering flames of light.
    Three other women waited inside, two of them sitting on one of the fur-covered sleeping ledges and another standing near the main fire. All of them were clearly anxious. “Here,” said the one at the hearth, and gestured toward the floor.
    Rioghan stopped. She kept her face very still and calm, but could not stop the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    The young woman, Sabha, lay curled up like an infant on a bed of thick, clean straw. Someone had placed a blue-and-green plaid cloak over her, but she seemed not to notice. “Airt,” the woman whispered in a shaking voice. “Airt…”
    “Airt is her husband,” one of the others informed Rioghan. “But he is here at Cahir Cullen. He is well; nothing has happened. The men took him away from the house when she would not respond to him. He is nearly as distraught as she.”
    Rioghan nodded. “They have been married barely two years. Sabha has been a great help to me whenever I have come here.” She glanced around at the others, then nodded toward the door. “Please go now. Leave me with her. I will do what I can.”
    The women all looked at each other, and then, each with a final kiss for Sabha, they left the round house and quietly closed the door.
     
     
    Rioghan moved to sit down in the straw beside her patient. Throwing back the blue-and-green wool cloak covering the younger woman, she leaned down to speak to her. “Sabha, come now and help me. Help me to understand what has happened to you. Come now; sit up—sit up; there, that’s it. Sit beside me and tell me what has happened.”
    The two of them sat together against the sleeping ledge, though Sabha slumped over so that her head rested on Rioghan’s shoulder. “Let me help you,” Rioghan said again. “Tell me what has happened.”
    But