Calgaich the Swordsman Read Online Free PDF

was manmade. Between the upright stones at one end of the mound were the remains of a paved open court that reached to the front of the mound. Slowly Cairenn perceived a rough doorway set into the end of the mound. It had uprights and a lintel of age-eaten, lichened granite. Bracken hung about the shadowed doorway like a ragged beard around the mouth of a toothless old man.
    She could not help herself. "Calgaich?” she cried.
    He did not move. He had been unafraid of the hungry sea between Hibernia and Caledonia. He had not feared to turn back the birlinn to face the pursuing Pictish reivers. He had not been fearful of casting himself into the watery domain of mighty Nodons. Now something deeply frightening had come silently through the overcast to roost on the broad back of the fian. It was something that had swiftly woven a slimy green thread of fear through the bright red fabric of his great courage.
    “Calgaich?” Cairenn drew closer to him.
    There was no sign of life within that foggy land-cup encircled by the gloomy hills. The only things that moved were the drifting mist and clouds, and the uneasy gray waters of the mysterious-looking sea loch.
    He turned slowly to look down at her, hidden fear lurking within his eyes. “It is a Holy Place,” he murmured.
    “Then there is nothing to fear.”
    He shook his head. “You don’t understand. It is a bar-row. The Ancient Ones, the Little Dark People, left such places. This is the place of the Horned One , woman.”
    A cold feeling like the tracing of a sharp icicle tip went down her spine. She hesitated, then said softly, “I did not think you feared the Old Ones, fian.”
    “It is not them!” he lied hastily. “It is the men who might still worship here that are to be feared.”
    “The Painted Ones?”
    He shook his head. “More likely the Damnonii. They came from the south long, long ago, and either killed or drove away the Little Dark People.” He looked beyond the mound toward the distant hills. “The Damnonii do not like trespassers,” he added.
    “I see no one.” Cairenn moved closer to him.
    Calgaich fingered his spear shaft. “No one that can be seen,” he murmured softly. “Can’t you smell the evil? There is a stench of old blood about this place.”
    “If the Damnonii think so much of it, why isn't it guarded?”
    Calgaich wet his dry lips. “It is guarded,” he whispered.
    “I see no one. I hear no one.”
    “The Horned One!”
    Cairenn asked no more questions. She knew by the tone of his voice that he felt something alive and evil lurking here, something he could not or would not explain to her. The faint howling of a wolf came from far across the great cup of land shielded by the mist-haunted hills. The howling did not sound real to her.
    Calgaich bent his head. His hands tightened on his spear shaft, as though in doing so he would gain spiritual strength from it. "Lugh of the Shining Spear,” he prayed, calling on his god. Cairenn waited quietly, her head bowed, for him to finish. The wolf howled again.
    Calgaich raised his head. He strode purposefully toward the mound as though he had gained that strength for which he had just prayed. Without hesitation he passed between two of the ancient ring stones. Cairenn came just behind him. Calgaich approached the furze-shrouded doorway of the barrow. An old hide studded with age-greened bronze bosses hung in the doorway. He thrust out his left hand with the first and little fingers extended and the two middle fingers bent within the palm—the sign to avert evil. He pulled aside the hide. The bronze bosses clashed dully together as he did so. Calgaich looked quickly about as though someone else other than Cairenn might have heard the sound. Then he motioned for her to follow him and disappeared inside. Cairenn glanced over her shoulder at the surrounding mist, which seemed to grow thicker, before moving forward. The bronze bosses felt rough to her touch as she pushed them aside to enter.