Warrior, Opposed: Book One Of The Comhairle Chronicles

Chapter Twelve - Sacrifice

“I didn’t seek dispensation. I guess the shield maidens found me worthy...”

Raghnall’s snort interrupted her, but she ignored it and pressed on; after all, she did nothing more than state fact. The Taghadairean had a simple role; to separate the worthy from the unworthy. The personal beliefs of an individual warrior had no affect on that.

“I guess they found me worthy but knew the final challenge would be impossible for me. You see, when you enter the trials you face four tests. First, you select three out of four options; strength, endurance, combat, or sacrifice. Most candidates choose the first three, as I believe Tor did. Then you’re given a final test, and that tests your faith in the Comhairle, in the warriors you’ll stand with. I couldn’t do that.

“I was very young when I faced the trials, just sixteen, younger than anyone we’d consider letting into the proving grounds now. I’d been separated from my people and I was trapped, in what seemed like a very harsh world, so I wanted to fight. I wanted to protect other species from the suffering which had been forced on those who must surely starve beyond the veil. When I lost my world, I wanted to make sure no one else had their life turned on its head by some enemy’s scheme.

“However, being non-bhampair, the Council didn’t want me to enter the proving grounds. By rights the Taghadairean shouldn’t have let me take the trials, as tradition dictates that no non-bhampair can. Not that I knew that at the time.

“I was so naïve,” Deòthas admitted quietly, almost to herself.

What she’d done had been reckless, she’d pushed boundaries that weren’t meant to be pushed and made more enemies than she’d considered possible. She couldn't change that, so she continued with her tale.

“I snuck into the proving grounds during the day, when the warriors were asleep. No one but the Taghadairean knew I was there. They let me in, despite tradition, but they couldn’t test my faith in the Council’s warriors because the ghaisgich didn’t trust me, and quite frankly I didn’t trust them. For whatever reason, that didn’t seem to matter; the shield maidens didn’t require me to take what is usually a mandatory test. Instead they required me to face the trial most warriors avoid; sacrifice.

“After I did as required, they impaled me with the sword I’d taken from one of them during my combat trial, and bled me out. Everyone has to bleed out. Tancred found me in the proving grounds and made me into a bana-ghaisgeach. Some deny I’m really a Comhairle warrior.”

Glancing at Raghnall, Deòthas winced at his scorn, understanding it far better than he’d ever credit her with.

“Others begrudgingly accept that the Taghadairean made their decision, albeit an unconventional one,” she added, thinking of Tancred and Corvinus.

“What did you have to sacrifice?” one of the trainees enquired. “Was it someone, a person, or something you possessed?”

Deòthas studied her hands, hands which could wield a weapon but which couldn’t use the one gift her mother had given her.

“Something I possessed,” she admitted softly. “My magic.”

She felt Tor’s eyes on her, no doubt puzzled by such a statement considering he’d felt her innate sorcery when they met. Looking up at him, she hoped her honesty showed in her expression as she tried to explain.

“They allowed me to keep the tools I needed to hunt and protect our secrecy, the same tools all baobhan sith and bhampairean use. I still have the seductive magic we use to attract prey, and the ability to wipe human minds. However, when I came to this world I had more magic than that, although I kept it hidden. I should’ve been a geas-seinneadair, a spellsinger. I could’ve controlled the elements. I could have been a sorceress. I gave it up, gave away the ability, in order to be a Comhairle warrior, because I thought I’d have more to offer as part of a greater whole than if I remained on my own.”