Overcomer - The Journey by Judy Colella (novels to improve english .txt) 📖

him of something, a new memory that had slid into his mind mere seconds after putting the pitcher back down – his first encounter with The Croghan.

“If you will, I’ll start my explanation.” Croghan took a sip and his eyes lit up. “My goodness, madam, this is magical!”

Mrs. Kelly’s response was a tiny smile, but nothing else.

“So.” Croghan slid a finger down the side of his glass leaving a track in the condensation “As Cian said, he’s from ancient Donegal. To be specific, he was born in A.D. 527. His lineage goes back to the early days of the Druids in 500 B.C. or so. Because of his family’s history and association with the Drunes, an evil sect of the Druids, Cian was chosen to pass through Time itself with my help and that of an angel named Celesta.”

As The Croghan spoke, Cian began to observe the power of the bard’s voice beginning to take control of the atmosphere in the room – he was, after all, a man who knew how to captivate an audience through song and story. Even without his harp, his rich tones were soothing, his use of words captivating. He also suspected that Celeste’s parents had been influenced in a subtle way to listen despite any natural objections.

“Now Celesta is a being whose strength is her ability to play the Songs of Light. These were created to shield all that belong to the Light from the effects and powers of the Darkness. Even in your world their effect if felt – whenever you hear certain harmonies, regardless of their context, or a melody that makes you relax even if you can’t imagine why. Now when I’m not doing things here, my destiny requires my presence in a wondrous place called The Hub of Time.” He stopped to take another sip of his tea.

“Where is this Hub?” asked Celeste.

“Not on Earth, but connected to it by Doors.”

“Doors, you say.” Mr. Kelly shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m participating in this discussion, just so you understand. What kind of doors would lead to your Hub?”

“Not the kind you would know, sir. You see, they are hidden, located in the most ancient places on this world. They also contain Portals, both of which lead to pathways that, when followed, bring the person who has entered through them to the Hub.”

Mrs. Kelly sighed. “What I really don’t understand is why I haven’t called the police on you, or why I am curious to find out what any of this has to do with my daughter.”

“I doubt you’ll be calling the police once you’ve heard everything. Of course, much more must be told before you can begin to comprehend Celeste’s part. To begin, I must take you into Cian’s past.”

Celeste crossed her arms. “Will it explain my trances, or how I’m able to understand and speak Gaelic, even though I’d never learned it?”

“You what?!” Mr. Kelly sat straighter, his eyes wider, back stiffening as his head jerked sideways to stare at his daughter.

Shaking her head, she put a hand on her father’s, which was flat on the table. “Let him talk.”

Cian needed an answer to those questions, too. He’d been told the “Celeste” he sought would play the harp and have a connection with Celesta, but…

“Yes, child, it will explain everything.” Croghan turned to Mrs. Kelly. “I sense great fear rising in you, and as a mother, you should feel that way, but I hope my words can allay that fear. Now. Cian MacDara – his ancestor was a priest of the anti-Druidic sect called the Drunes, as I said. They worshipped something they didn’t comprehend, but it’s thought that even if they did, they’d have worshipped it anyway. In their culture, this being went by the name ‘Crom-Cruach.’ In Eastern cultures, it had another name – Moloch.”

“I’ve heard of both,” said Mrs. Kelly. “People sacrificed their children to the second one. This is not helping.” She bit her lip.

Croghan shook his head. “Please, madam, not ‘he.’ ‘It’ – that monster does not deserve to be dignified with a gender.”

Mr. Kelly reached for the pitcher. “Well, I know the other name is that of an Irish god, and a horrid thing it is, too. People were sacrificed to it by being burned alive in a contraption called a Wicker Man.” He poured out some tea, his mouth twisted.

“Indeed,” Croghan said. “This being has also been called ‘the eater of children.’ Those who worshipped it as Moloch would sacrifice their children by tossing them alive into a fire burning within a head-shaped vessel with an open mouth, as well as in other ways.”

Celeste shivered. “That’s disgusting! How awful!”

“And Cian’s ancestor was a priest for those who practiced this religion?”

“He was, Mr. Kelly. But when he was asked to sacrifice his own child, he forsook his position and his faith. The other priests, of course, saw it as heresy and a betrayal of their god, a transgression punishable by a long, painful death. The man went to the Druids to speak with Amergin, a bard greatly loved and respected, whose words had weight among the people. Upon hearing the man’s plight, he agreed to help.

“In the Boyne Valley are a number of structures that at the time were already so old that no one knew who had built them. They had becomes centers of worship for the Druids, and the largest was called Dún Fhearghusa. Today, it’s more commonly known as Newgrange.”

Mr. Kelly nodded. “I’ve been there. It’s a passage tomb, built some time before the pyramids. Looks brand new.” He gave a short laugh. “They really don’t make things like they used to, eh? But how is this place important? Why did Amergin, who I’ve also heard of, by the way, take the priest there?”

“The priest, his wife and child, to be exact. Newgrange is one of those ancient places of which I spoke. At the end of the passage, as you know if you’ve been inside, is what looks like nothing but a circular stone chamber, but the Druids knew it for what it was – a Door into the Hub of Time.”

“So when our tour group went in there, we were staring at this Door?”

“You were.”

Throughout the conversation, Cian had been observing everyone’s behavior. By this point, Mr. Kelly seemed to have forgotten he didn’t trust Croghan. Mrs. Kelly had put an elbow on the table, her face cupped in her hand, nodding as Croghan spoke. Celeste, too, stared at the bard, her complexion no longer ashen. The blue of her eyes… he considered the blue of her eyes. Dark blue, like stormy water on a lake…

A moment later, Cian realized his focus had shifted from the story to Celeste alone. What was it about her that caused him to struggle with breathing? Maybe he was getting sick, but this odd shortness of breath only seemed to happen when he was looking at her.

“… Cian comes in.”

Hearing his name, Cian blinked, dragged his gaze and thoughts from the lovely girl who had at that moment turned her head to stare back at him, blushing.

“Cian?” Mrs. Kelly tapped her fingernails on the table.

“I… I’m… ” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“You do know my daughter is only sixteen, young man, yes?”

Uh-oh. Mr. Kelly was glaring once more – at Cian. “Yes, sir.”

“And you’re, what, fifteen hundred years old?”

Croghan chuckled. “He’s seventeen, Mr. Kelly. He’s merely living in a different time than the one into which he was born.”

“Dad! Please don’t go all lock-up-the-women-and-hide-the-silverware on me.”

Mr. Kelly stared at Celeste, pursing his lips. “Mm-hmm. So tell me, Celeste, what is your view on all these things we’re hearing?”

“I believe it.”

“Do you, now!”

“Yes. You haven’t been in class and seen what I have.” She took a deep breath and sat straighter. “Look – too many odd things have happened within the past few days, some even before that, and what Mr. Croghan is telling us is answering a lot of questions that have bothered me since, like, forever, and especially since Thursday.” She shifted to look more directly at her father. “Maybe Mom never told you, but I have these crazy trances once in a while. Did you know that? I couldn’t tell you what I see when I’m in that state, but almost every time I snap out of it, if that’s the right term, I suddenly know stuff I didn’t, or that I couldn’t. Like what happened Thursday – Cian said something in Gaelic, and Dad, I understood every word! Not only that, but I answered him in Gaelic! Tell me you can explain that!”

Mr. Kelly opened his mouth to reply, but she raised a finger, stopping him.

“Another thing. I know how to play the harp, even though I’ve never touched one before. Ask Mom.”

Her father shook his head. “No one tells me anything around here. But… all right, what about him? You were saying something about school?”

Celeste folded her hands on the table and took a quick breath through her nose. “Yes. There’s a bunch of stuff he doesn’t know about, like laser pointers, ‘Back To The Future,’ and… well, some of the things I’ve heard him say in class that he was obviously not doing on purpose, like saying ‘Germany’ as if he’d never used that word himself, or, uh, what was that other thing... oh, yeah. He called Donegal by another name, and when he was talking about his people, said something like ‘you call them’ instead of ‘they were called.’ See what I mean?”

Croghan sat forward and before her parents could respond, said, “Celeste, eist liom – Tá sé ceart go leor. An dtuigeann tú Gaelige?”

“Tá Gaelige agus Béarla agam...Ó, ar fheabhas!” She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Nábac leis,” said Mr. Croghan in a gentle voice, adding in English, “I understand your fear and frustration.”

Mrs. Kelly put a hand on Celeste’s arm. “It’s okay, Celeste.” She shook her head and glared around. “I have no idea what all of this means, so someone had better tell me what’s going on!” She turned to Cian. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what she said?”

“Of course. The Croghan said, ‘Listen to me, it’s all right. Do you speak Gaelic?’ and Celeste said, ‘I speak Gaelic and English… oh, excellent!’ So he said, ‘Never mind,’ or ‘don’t worry about it’ – it sort of means both. Anyway, that was all.”

“That’s all?” Mr. Kelly’s voice started rising. “I heard my daughter carry on a conversation in a language she doesn’t know and you say, ‘that’s all’?! And by the way, my wife may not have understood what they said, but I did – I speak that language too, even if the dialect is somewhat... odd.”

Celeste gaped. “You do? Why didn’t you ever say anything about it?”

“Why should I? We live in America, girl. What would I or any of us do with the Irish language here?”

“Nothing, I guess. It would’ve been cool to know about, though.”

Someone knocked on the side door.

“Katie! I forgot!” Jumping up, Celeste ran down the short hallway off the kitchen. A moment later she was back with her friend in tow.

“You know, Celeste, this really isn’t the best time,” her mother said.

“I disagree. I think she’s the perfect person to have here right now. Besides, she knows about some of this stuff, too, like the trances and me speaking Gaelic, so she should probably be a part of it.” She returned to her chair.

“A part of what?” Katie pulled out the chair next to Cian and sat, then pointed to Croghan. “Who’s that?”

“This is my new harp teacher, Mr. Croghan.”

“So what’s going on? Hey, so Cian – looks like you made it. But why is everyone so tense?”

“Cian?” Croghan raised an eyebrow.

With a slow shake of his head, Cian sat back. “You’re the harper, Croghan. You can tell the story better than anyone.”

Mr. Kelly thrust out his jaw and nodded at Croghan. “What year do you claim