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- Author: Larry Forkner
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Ashling nodded sympathetically and said, “Since we have the rare opportunity to have a discussion without her constant interruptions; I suggest we take advantage of it.
“Spot on with your observations as usual, Ashling,” Fergus said. “Do we have any idea how those gray devils found us?”
“It’s all guess work so far, but Da’ and I have a theory,” Ashling said.
“That’s more than the rest of us ornery Irish folk have if you added all our opinions together. Say on, lovely Ashling,” the eldest and presiding leader of the twelve said, in his usual gentle voice.
Ashling smiled at Fergus McCree, the longtime leader of the Council. He often said he was older than the hills surrounding Rundimahair, and Ashling thought it might be the truth. Fergus was long and lean with a full head of silver hair. His gray eyes were soft with age, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He usually let Eamon, Aengus and Ashling take the lead in council meetings, but when he did speak, it was always worth listening to.
Before she spoke, Ashling looked at the semi-circle of council members seated at their matching oak desks, in their gray, high-backed and well-cushioned chairs. Apart from the now absent Shannon Tiernay, she knew each of her fellow council members to be fair, open-minded people. They were also not the type to be easily frightened. She was grateful for this trait above all.
“You’ve all had the opportunity to meet our guest, Sean Quinn,” Ashling said, gesturing toward Sean, sitting in the chairs reserved for townsfolk, when they were invited to council meetings.
Sean looked as though he was going to stand, but at the last moment decided to stay in his seat and nod solemnly at the council. Ashling could feel his nervous energy churning just below the surface. She smiled at him and nodded back, hoping to calm his nerves.
“You’ve also heard the tale of how he came to Rundimahair. In a feat we thought impossible, he managed to tap into the ancient, incredibly powerful spells which have protected us for centuries.”
“Do we yet understand how a handsome young fellow barely out of his knickers managed such a stroke of magic?” Fergus asked softly.
“Truthfully, we don’t a clue,” she said. “If you’ll bear with my lengthy story, I’ll try to explain all that we know and all we don’t yet understand.”
“Carry on and forgive the interruption. We’re all anxious to hear every detail,” Fergus said, smiling.
“Nothing to forgive,” Ashling said, returning his smile. “From the beginning, we suspected Sean had latent gifts of white magic coursing through his veins. After some of the experiences we’ve shared, there is no doubt that he is a tremendously gifted wizard. We’re still working on his family history to discover where the magic came from.”
“How can you be so sure?” one of the council members asked.
Ashling launched into a discussion of the fight with the foul beasts they’d battled at the bed-and- breakfast. She could see the interest and fascination of the council grow as her story concluded. It had been centuries since anyone with such powers had been found.
Next, she went on to discuss in detail what had taken place during the battle with the deadly gray dragons. She heard Margaret gasp when she explained how he’d destroyed the dragon intent on killing her.
By the time she’d explained Sean’s heroic battle to help Eamon, everyone in the room was spellbound. After letting her tale sink into the council’s minds, she finally said, “I’m sure you can see that Sean is a tremendously gifted and powerful wizard. When you consider that he is only just now becoming aware of his powers, it is not unreasonable to assume that his potential may well be nearly unlimited.”
“Aye, it would be a fierce hard thing to argue with that,” Aengus said. “The young fella sure and true has the gift and there’s no doubt about it.”
“Amen to that, Aengus,” Margaret said solemnly. “How many generations have passed us by since the last red dragon appeared out of nowhere, roarin’ and ready to go in a fight to the death with the grays?”
“To my recollection, which I readily admit is not as sharp as it could be these days, it’s not happened in the long history of our race,” Fergus said.
“Taint nothin’ wrong with your recollection, dear Fergus,” an aged woman named Mona said. “I’ve been a student of our race’s history since I was no more than a wee little one at me mother’s knee. I can promise you there is not the like of Sean in our long and troubled history.”
Ashling nodded at the ancient woman and said, “I couldn’t agree more, Mona. While we know that he is a young man with great potential; none of us can say for certain where the ceiling on his powers might be.
“It is my belief that Sean’s presence is what brought the grays inside of our ancient, protective shield,” Ashling continued. We all know that Grainne has her dragons out searching for us constantly. I feel that Grainne’s gray dragons were searching in our area and were pulled into Rundimahair by the powers of the great Creator of us all.”
“Why in heaven’s name would the Creator do such a thing?” Fergus asked. “It could have been the end of us all!”
“Because it is the only way such a powerful red dragon could be called out,” Ashling said. “When Albie brought Sean to the high mountains, it was meant to be.”
“Because nothing but the possibility of you and Ashling dying, could call forth such a mighty red!” Fergus said.
“More likely it was the danger to his dear Ashling that caused his dragon self to roar into existence,” Eamon said, smiling.
“I was thinking the same thing, so I was,” Margaret said, glancing at Ashling.
It was Ashling’s turn to blush as she glanced at Sean and then
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