Emily's House: Book 1 of the Akasha Chronicles

Chapter 3: Saorla

Chapter 3: Saorla

 Like all Priestesses of the Order of Brighid before her, Saorla left her home when she was ten and entered the Sacred Grove. After much preparation, lessons and hard work, Saorla took her place as the High Priestess of the Order of Brighid.

But it was a difficult time for the Order. Much change came to ancient Ireland, known in those times as Érie. Because it was an island and well protected by its fearsome Celtic warriors, the ancient ways survived on the Emerald Isle far longer than in most of Europe. But in Saorla’s time, powerful invaders came from the south with large armies and ships.

More powerful than the soldiers and their weapons were the ways of thinking the newcomers brought with them. The strangers prayed to one male god rather than to the many gods both male and female of Saorla’s ancestors. The Druidic ways were being lost.

The raiders wiped out whole villages. Those that survived adapted to the new ways in order to avoid scrutiny, ridicule or worse – death to them or their family.

All over Ireland the old ways were forgotten. Priests replaced the Druids. Nuns replaced priestesses. Saorla’s Samhein became ‘All Hollow’s Eve.’ Alban Arthuan became the day of their god’s birth, Christmas. Imolc became the day of their god’s death and resurrection, Easter.

“I didn’t know that those holidays existed before Christians,” interrupted Fanny.

“Yes, most of what humans celebrate today existed in the ancient world. None of it is new. You just rename it from time to time. Now listen.”

Saorla’s most crucial task as High Priestess was to protect the golden torc, an object imbued with immense power. The torc was forged by faerie hands in the first days of the Order, in the time of the Great Pyramids. From the start, it was blessed with magickal power and wrapped while still warm around the upper arm of the first High Priestess of the Order. It was passed from High Priestess to High Priestess, each time imbued with the powerful energy of the wearer. Over the millennia, it became a most powerful object indeed.

“Wait a minute. A ‘torc’? What’s that?” I asked Hindergog.

“Ah, that is right. Humans no longer wear them. A torc is a piece of jewelry, usually worn around the neck but sometimes worn by warriors around their upper arms. The craftsman would twist many thin wires of precious metal around each other to form a ring that could be worn. The Torc of Brighid, worn by the High Priestess of the Order for millennia, was made of the purest gold.”

Saorla’s other role as High Priestess was to be the highest-ranking advisor to the High King of Ireland. She used the sight to seek out visions that could alert the king to any plots against him or his lands.

But by Saorla’s time, few knew that the Order of Brighid existed. The Order had been held secret by so many for so long in order to protect it that there were few to believe in it. In the minds of the common folk, the Order of Brighid and the Sacred Grove were considered myth.

While Saorla was the highest and most trusted advisor to the King, Saorla’s most trusted advisor was Cathaír. Cathaír was the liaison between the High Priestess and the King. Cathaír was also charged with the duty to protect the Sacred Grove and the Order of Brighid from outsiders. Cathaír was, in fact, the only living human man to know of the exact location of the Sacred Grove.

“You mean no men lived there at all?” asked Jake.

“That is correct. And once a young girl was inducted into the Order, she never left the Sacred Grove again.”

“So they were like nuns,” said Fanny.

“Are you saying that Emily has to become a nun?” asked Jake.

“Settle yourselves. Times, of course, are different now. The order no longer exists. Please listen as you learn what happened to my fair mistress Saorla.”

One day, Saorla summoned Cathaír to her.

“Cathaír, you must ride to the King at once. I have foreseen an army, large in numbers, and with a most fierce leader. They plan to invade our fair land in the coming months.”

“I trust your vision my Priestess, but we have survived many invaders in the past. I will tell the High King, and he will raise his armies to protect our fair land.”

“This invader is different, Cathaír. He is fork-tongued and will promise much to those who follow him. And I have foreseen a terrible plot against the King.”

“Then I will ride to the King at once and tell him what you have foreseen.”

“Cathaír, there is more. But this you must not tell the King.”

“What is it? What have you seen?”

“I have seen a dark invader here, Cathaír. At the Sacred Grove.”

“No, that is impossible. The protections are too strong. An army of men would never see the walls. Even if they did, the enchantments that have protected it for thousands of years will hold. And of course there is Lianhan Sídhe. She will not let any man enter. And if anyone did manage to find the gate, let alone get past Lianhan Sídhe, Madame Wong would dice them to pieces.”

“I know that it seems impossible, Cathaír. I do not know how it will happen. I wish that I did. I only know what I saw. A dark haired man with a large army will enter through the gates of our beloved Grove.”

“Your gift of sight is most powerful, your Highness, but I hope for the sake of our fair land that your vision has failed you this time.”

“I do too, Cathaír. I do too.”

That night Saorla took her usual evening stroll to the Moon Well to meditate and speak with the Goddess. As she looked into the Moon Well, she saw a vivid and violent scene. She wished with all her heart that she had not seen it. The second vision, from the sacred Moon Well itself, confirmed the first. There was no doubt of it. Her remaining days in the Sacred Grove were few.

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