To Ride A Puca

By Heather McCorkle

Invaders are coming to Ireland to take what isn't theirs, again.

Neala wants to stand and fight for her homeland, but as one of the last druids, she may be standing alone.

Persecuted, hunted down, forced to live in obscurity, the druids have all but given up. Can the determination of a girl who has barely come into her power bring them together? Or, just when she finally finds her place among her kind, will they end up losing a homeland their very magic is tied to?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Compass Press
• Release date: Feb 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9780985180430

Heather McCorkle

I am an author of fantasy, in all its many sub-genres. Helping other writers and supporting fabulous authors is one of my passions. When I'm not writing or surfing my social networking sites, I can be found on the slopes, the hiking trails, or on horseback. As a native Oregonian, I enjoy the outdoors almost as much as the worlds I create on the pages. No need to travel to the Great Northwest though, you can find me here, on my blog, and Monday night's on Twitter where I co-moderate the #WritersRoad chat with my good friend TS Tate.

Book preview

With a trembling hand, Neala adjusted the spyglass to get a better look at the ship that marred the perfect blue horizon of the ocean. It was still too far away to tell much about it, save that it was large and imposing. A twist of the spyglass revealed the fierce figurehead on the prow. Fear rose up and clamped an icy grip on her throat.

Danes, oh no, she murmured.

Her heart began to thud with the intensity of a blacksmith’s hammer. Nervous energy hummed through her body. A hot summer wind blew a strand of her long brown hair across the spyglass, obscuring her view and shaking her from her paralyzed state. Her horse shifted beneath her and stomped his foot. She didn’t need any more urging, it was time to go.

The click the spyglass made as she compacted it made both her and her horse jump. It was silly to think the Danes could hear. Knowing that didn’t make the fear go away, though. The spyglass slipped from her hands and she fumbled with it, barely catching it before it fell.

No! she gasped. An entirely different kind of anxiety clutched at her chest. To lose her spyglass here, now—knowing what was coming—would be more irony than she could handle. She clutched it close to her heart for a moment, then carefully tucked it into a pouch at her waist, ensuring the ties on it were well secured.

Murmuring soothing words to her horse, she patted the arch of his muscular, black neck and took up the reins.

Easy Dubh, she said, not liking how loud her voice was out here on the deserted hilltop.

With no saddle between her and Dubh she easily felt his muscles bunch in preparation to run. A rustling sound drew her attention. She shifted her weight back, cuing Dubh to wait. A tiny creature that looked like a dangerously thin human but was no bigger than Neala’s hand, fluttered on iridescent wings above Dubh’s neck. It cocked its head and gave her a concerned look.

Go little fairy, it isn’t safe here, Neala told it.

The fairy cocked its head at her, and the look of concern that pinched its tiny features made Neala’s chest tighten. It floated to her shoulder and lingered there. Its delicate wings brushed her ear.

Please go, I’m beggin’ ye. Tell yer kind this town isn’t safe anymore, Neala said.

After a glance in the direction of the ship which was only a speck on the horizon, the fairy nodded and disappeared. The air glimmered green and blue for a moment, then all trace of her was gone. She must have understood the danger to some degree, but how much, Neala couldn’t be sure.

Turning Dubh toward the port town of Dublin, Neala let him go. He thundered down the green hillside, his massive feet with their long, black feathers of hair throwing up huge chunks of earth. Once they reached the cobblestone streets she had to slow him to a trot to maneuver through the horse-drawn carts and pedestrians. Dubh was so big that people moved quickly out of his way and a path was cleared.

It felt like an eternity before she reached the shop where her da was, though it took only moments. Their cart, with Dubh’s black and white brothers hitched to it, was parked in the alleyway next to the building. It was empty. Good, that meant her da had already unloaded the wool. Before Dubh came to a stop at the hitching post Neala leapt from his back. She didn’t bother to tie him. Though he stomped and snorted, he wouldn’t go anywhere without her.

Forgetting all propriety, Neala threw the door open and ran into the shop, darting around tables covered in bolts of material and wool. At the back of the shop her da was leaning upon a tall table engaged in conversation with the old man behind it.

Da, there’s a ship coming, she said as she came to a stop next to him.

His brow furrowed as his blue eyes flicked in her direction. The look he cast her from beneath his plain brown locks was filled with irritation.

Neala, we’re talkin’ business. Don’t be rude, he said.

Power crackled beneath her skin and it was all she could do to contain it. His words did not help, neither did the fact that he turned away to continue his conversation. They didn’t have time for delays.

Da, it’s a Dane ship, she said.

Ha! That’s daft. They’ve never come this far down the coast, the shopkeeper said.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the way his words prickled along her last nerve. All she got from her da was another glare, this one carrying weight and threat.

The power that crawled beneath her skin intensified and she let it, focusing it down into her fingers. She used it to heighten her strength as she grabbed her da’s forearm. He tried to pull away but all she had to do was call on more of her power and it was easy to hang onto him. Anger filled his eyes as he truly looked at her for the first time that afternoon. She hated to disrespect him by using her power, but he gave her no choice. They were running out of time.

Let go, he hissed.

His power flared beneath her hand but she snuffed it easily with her own. White shone around the blue of his eyes before they narrowed into a fierce glare. Reminding him of the differences in their power was a sure way to raise his ire. He gave her no choice, though. The pressure she was applying would bruise his arm. Unlike her—could use his power to heal it so she paid it no mind.

I’m not playin, da, she said.

Either he saw something in her face that indicated how desperate she was, or he just didn’t want to challenge her unpredictable power. He sighed in defeat and gave the merchant one of those tolerant looks grownups gave each other when dealing with an insolent child.

If ye’ll excuse me for a moment, I must remind me daughter of her manners, he told the merchant.

The man gave her da a gap-toothed smile that looked a bit strained. Don’t bruise yer hand, he said with a laugh.

Neala shot the man a look of warning and a bit of her power slipped out. The power struck him like a strong wind, shoving him back a step. His eyes widened as he made the sign of the evil eye at her; two fingers thrust up in a V shape.

Ye’re a druid, he said, spitting at the last word as though it tasted bad. He drew back, fear contorting his features. Get out of me shop an don’t come back.

She flinched at the sting of his words but right now the man and his superstitions didn’t matter, getting her da to safety did. Her kind were used to such attitudes from the townsfolk, and much worse.

Danes are coming, ye dolt. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll leave, she hissed.

A big part of her didn’t care if the man knew what was good for him. People like him sold her kind out to save their own hides time and time again. They were the very reason druids lived in hiding. Casting him a dark glare over her shoulder, she ran for the door, dragging her da with her.

If it’s true, they’re comin’ because of ye and ye’re filthy get, the shopkeeper said.

Her da pulled back from her and she had to pour more power into her arm to overcome his struggles. Ye’ve ruined our chance of ever selling here again. What is this nonsense? he demanded.

It won’t matter, da. These people will all be dead by nightfall, she said.

A tiny amount of the pressure building in her chest eased a little as they stepped out into the dim light of the overcast day

If ye had seen them from the hilltop then they’d be upon us now, her da said.

Opening the pouch at her side, Neala showed him the end of her spyglass. I used the druid’s spyglass that Lorcan made for me. I saw the ship, tis invaders.

Stubborn disbelief etched deep lines into his brow. They’ve never come this far down the coast.

The way he echoed the shopkeeper’s words made her twitch and grind her teeth. He tried to turn away, but Neala refused to let him go. Despite being a fit, strong man, she held him easily. As a druid, being a sixteen year old girl wasn’t a disadvantage for her.

Her da went very still. Are ye certain?

She nodded. Pain and terror swirled within her da’s eyes and his bottom jaw started to quiver.

Say nothin’, ride up front and use Dubh to clear a path for us, we need to leave as fast as we can without drawin’ attention, he said.

But Da, these people… she couldn’t finish the sentence.

No. We can’t afford to get trapped in the panic, he whispered then gave her a push toward her horse.

Neala shook her head. It didn’t matter that these people would give them up to the Danes in a heartbeat if they knew what they were. They didn’t know. Letting them all die would make her no better than them. She glanced at people milling about in the busy street.

If we don’t fight then what did Lorcan die for? she asked.

His eyes narrowed. Our kind are healers, that’s why yer brother died. His eyes softened and the crease between them smoothed out. We’ll spread the word as soon as we reach the edge of town, I promise.

There was no sense in arguing with him, he was right. Having her gentle da caught amidst a panic was the last thing she wanted. Neala focused her power down through her legs and used it to push off the ground, launching her onto Dubh’s tall back. Her da slapped her calf as he walked by.

Not in public Neala, he warned.

It hardly matters. Most of these people will be dead by sunset, she mumbled through a tightening throat.

Her da rushed to the cart and climbed into the driver’s seat. The black and white geldings perked up as he slapped the reins across their rumps. With a touch of her leg, Neala spun Dubh around and pranced out into the street. He was a bundle of excited energy beneath her. It was nothing like her own, just the nervous energy of a horse. That was exactly what she needed right now.

Snorting and shaking his head, Dubh moved along at a high stepping trot. People rushed to get out of his way. Children cried out and startled women scooped them aside while glaring at Neala. She bared her teeth and tried to use her fear to make her look ferocious. She was able to maintain a brisk trot with her da and the cart rolling steadily along behind her. Insults, threats, and curses were flung at them but Neala ignored them. She couldn’t blame these people, not when she knew what was coming.

The faces of the children, so innocent, fed the guilt that was growing inside of her. There were a lot of people in this town; chances were good they could fight off the Danes. But many of them would die, maybe even some of these children. Neala’s chest tighten at the thought and tears stung her eyes.

Da, we have to tell them, she called back over her shoulder. Please.

Not yet Neala, he called back, his harsh tone leaving no room for discussion.

Moisture filled her eyes as she bit down on her bottom lip to hold back an argument. The faces continued to assault her conscience while she pushed her way through the busy streets. People flinched away from her big, black horse, cursing at him and calling him names like púca. Even the insults to her horse couldn’t stir her ire today though, not knowing what was going to happen to these people. She didn’t have any more right to live than they did. The only thing that held her tongue was the need to get her da and Dubh to safety.

They soon left the busy main streets behind for the road leading out of town. Each face they passed sent a sickening wave of guilt through Neala. She was torn between wanting to stay and fight with them or flee to safety. Being a druid, she knew she was supposed to abhor fighting, but she didn’t, not when it was in defense of others. Every part of her ached to stay and fight. If her da knew how she felt, he would lecture her until she was an old maid.

Neala’s shoulders started to ache with the effort of holding Dubh back from running. She shifted her weight, cuing him to stop. He obeyed but stomped and tossed his head.

Easy boy, soon, she soothed him as her eyes scanned their surroundings.

To her right a woman knelt in a garden pulling weeds, and to the left a pair of men chatted as they leaned against a fence. Neala couldn’t just leave and let all these people be slaughtered, and she hoped her da couldn’t either. When she met his gaze there were tears in his eyes and his face was contorted with grief.

She knew he felt bad for these people but that his grief wasn’t for them. The impending attack probably reminded him of her brother, Lorcan. He had gone north to fight invaders three years ago and only his sword and Dubh had come back.

After an excruciatingly long moment, her da nodded. Neala was glad to turn away from the pain in his eyes but it followed her like a ghost, sinking its talons into her heart.

As her da called out to the men across the road, she guided Dubh up to the woman in the garden. The woman looked up with a pleasant smile that faded the second she laid eyes on Dubh. A big black horse with green eyes tended to have that effect on people. A mixture of caution and suspicion warred across the woman’s furrowed brow.

Take yer family and flee, Danes are nearly at the shores, Neala said.

The woman rose slowly and brushed dirt from her knees. Neala urged Dubh forward another step and the woman stumbled back from him.

Are ye daft woman? I said go! Neala yelled.

One hand went to her hip and she stared at Neala as if she were the one who was daft.

The racket of pounding hooves pulled Neala’s attention behind them. Three mounted people were riding hard in their direction. Dubh hopped on his hind legs a bit and spun in the direction of the noise. It took all of Neala’s strength to hold him back as the three riders thundered past them, leaving Neala in a cloud of dust. As the hoof beats faded and the dust settled, Neala saw people running through the streets, some coming her way, others just running to and fro.

Danes are coming! Danes are coming! people started yelling.

The woman turned and ran toward her home. Out of the corner of her eye Neala saw the men her da had been speaking to both take off running in opposite directions.

Let’s go Neala, we’ve done what we can, her da said. He slapped the reins on the horses’ rumps and hollered at them. They leapt into action, propelling him and the cart forward at a reckless speed.

Letting out an excited squeal, Dubh reared and pulled at the reins. Neala grabbed hold of his mane, squeezed with her legs, and released him into a canter. They caught up with the cart and passed it. She held him back as best she could, not wanting to get too far ahead of her da.

The rolling green hills in the distance swallowed the road and promised a safe escape. There was no doubt in Neala’s mind that she and her da would make it. She couldn’t stop thinking about how many innocent people in town were going to die, though. Riding away from that battle was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.

2

Neala hated seeing her ma cry. There was nothing she could say to make this better so she remained silent as she carried the dirty dishes into the kitchen. She removed a bucket of water from the top of the wood burning stove and poured half of it into the sink. Being as quiet as she could, she started to wash the dishes while trying to listen to her parents discuss the invaders.

They talked about how the ships coming so far down the coastline was a sign the Danes were spreading across Ireland. Upon hearing that Neala shivered despite the fact that her hands were submerged in warm water.

But we’ve been so careful. No one knows there are druids here, her ma said.

They know, they always know. And they always come to try and wipe us out, her da said, sounding exhausted and defeated. Soft footsteps padded across the wooden floors.

"Nil, me dear. Don’t think that way. We can’t feed into the fear," her ma said.

Leaning out around the wall, Neala peeked into the room. Her ma was kneeling beside her da’s chair, clutching one of his hands in both of hers.

Two days ride and the Slieve Bloom Mountains separate us from the port. Surely, no one there knows we exist, or that we’re here. Our own village doesn’t even know what we are, she said.

The last words made Neala cringe. Her parents were terribly naïve if they let themselves believe that lie. The children knew she was different, they had always known.

Listening to her parents talk about how the Danes wouldn’t come inland made Neala’s power burn. It was all she had heard her da say over the two days it had taken to return home. Her parents had talked about this all night after she and her da arrived. The fact that her ma had focused long enough to make them breakfast was a miracle.

Neala was tired of talk. People were threatening their land, it was time for action. Her parents were healers. She understood that and didn’t expect them to fight. But her power had never worked like theirs. She couldn’t even heal a scratch. All she seemed to be able to do with hers was push or pull on things. She wanted to be useful; she wanted to fight for her country like her brother had. It was more than that, she needed to.

Their conversation had gone so deep into the night that whispered bits of it had entered Neala’s nightmares. There had been talk of power and fighting, of her fighting with her power. Her ma had cried and argued that she didn’t want her baby fighting. Her da had insisted they tell Neala something but her ma forbid it. How much had been actual conversation and how much had been part of her dreams, Neala had no idea.

When she was finished with the dishes she went around the wall, crossed her arms over her chest, and watched her parents. Their meager home was small enough that she could hear every hushed word they said even though they were across the room. They must have felt the weight of her intense gaze because they stopped talking and turned to look at her. She knew they would feel it because her gaze carried the press of her useless power.

Tears had turned her ma’s beautiful green eyes red and it looked like she hadn’t even pulled a brush through her long, light brown hair yet. Looking at her was like seeing her own reflection in a pool but Neala felt pale and lacking in comparison. She wasn’t the powerful healer her ma was. That had always bothered her even though she had little interest in healing. It just didn’t feel like healing was in her. But today her ma looked like nothing more than a frightened, frail woman. Neala refused to let her vulnerable appearance deter her.

It’s time to let me learn how to fight, Neala said.

Her ma’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

Absolutely not, her da snapped. And don’t ye dare breathe a word of this to anyone. It would only create a panic.

Though she was prepared for an argument, his quick dismissal set her afire. If the invaders come here someone has to defend our home. They could be here with a sizable force in a little over a week. I must be able to fight, she said.

Her ma flew to her feet and shook her head. "No. Not ye, not me beag cailín."

The near hysterical look in her ma’s eyes wasn’t enough to stop her. Not this time, this was too important to give up on. Calling her a little girl in the old tongue didn’t help. She pushed away from the counter and took a step closer to her parents.

I’m hardly a little girl anymore. I’m of marryin’ age, in fact. If ye won’t let me learn to protect our land then let me learn to protect meself. Ye know what they do to women and girls, Neala said.

Horror filled her ma’s eyes before she turned away to hide her face in her hands. Guilt traced hot fingers across Neala’s heart. Her ma knew very well the horrible things invaders did. Her family was originally from the north end of the island and they had fled here when the Danes landed on their shores.

When she saw her da’s clenched jaw and felt the heat of his angry power, Neala started to question her choice of words.

How dare ye speak to yer ma that way. Remember yer place girl, he warned.

His attention shifted to his wife as he grasped her arm to help support her. Sit down Cecily, take it easy now, he soothed as he led her to a chair. He sat beside her and patted her head as she laid it on his shoulder.

His words fanned the flames of Neala’s anger until it felt like her skin was burning. Me place is on the battlefield. If Lorcan were here he would teach me how to use a sword, she snapped.

Just saying her brother’s name made it feel like someone had punched her in the stomach. She couldn’t help it, it had just come out. It was true, he would have taught her. In fact he had, to a point. Since she was little he had been teaching her hand-to-hand fighting so she could protect herself. But he’d never had the chance to teach her how to use a sword.

Neala O’Carroll, how dare ye! her da said as he shot her a dangerous glare.

His power prickled along her skin like hot coals but it was easy to banish by calling up her own. She thrust her chin up. Her pride faltered when her ma lifted her head from her da’s shoulder and Neala saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

But he’s not here. Lorcan is dead, and I couldn’t bear for ye to end up the same, her ma said.

A frustrated cry wrenched from Neala as she bolted for the door. Her da must have moved to follow her because she heard her ma call after him. Ardal, just let her go. She needs to be alone to think.

She slammed the door shut behind her and plunged into the bright light of morning. Despite the warm sun cowering below the clouds on the horizon, a thick mist clung to the grassy meadow where her home was nestled. The sweet, cloying scent of wet grass and clover filled her nostrils. Tall evergreens reaching like pillars toward the sky loomed close to their little meadow, holding the mist in. The feathery, cool touch of wet grass brushed her ankles as she ran for the barn.

The sight and sensations of the misty morning only upset her more. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing the place where she had grown up with Lorcan. What did he die for if they gave this up?

She threw the barn door open wide, making Dubh and his brothers jump in their stalls. While his brothers calmed and went back to eating, Dubh rushed to put his head out the stall opening. Not even he could comfort her right now. She ran past him, rounded the aisle that went between the stalls, and fell upon the hay bundles stored in the corner. Through her weeping she could hear Dubh pacing and nickering. After a moment she wiped her eyes and sat up. Crying would do her no good, she knew. Like she had told her parents, she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

Shoving hay aside, she exposed a floor board with a notch in it that allowed her to lift it out of place. The dark space was cool and clammy but the object she drew from within it was warm to the touch. It was a long box that pulsed as if what it held within was alive. Neala opened it and removed a bundle that was four feet long and heavy. Handling it carefully, she clutched it to her chest. Though it was secure in a leather sheath and wrapped in a blanket, she could still feel the energy that clung to it; her brother’s energy. It was his sword and aside from Dubh, it was the only thing that brought her any measure of comfort lately.

Today holding the sword only fueled her anger. It was ridiculous that her parents wouldn’t let her learn how to fight. Plenty of Celtic women fought to protect their homes and families, some even fought alongside the men in battle. She was really good at hand-to-hand fighting, she had to be. The other children of the nearby village didn’t like her. The thought made her lift her hand to her shoulder to touch the tiny scar there. Some part of them sensed that she was different.

Tears dripped onto the black wool blanket that encased the sword. The sight of them intensified her anger. They made her feel weak. Frustrated, she thrust the sword back into the box, put the lid on, and put the floorboard back in place. She jumped to her feet and dashed to Dubh’s stall. He ceased his pacing and bobbed his head up and down, making his long, black mane and forelock bounce.

As Neala grabbed his bridle off a hook on the wall she saw something moving in the bucket where they stored the horses’ grain. It was no more than eight inches tall and resembled a tiny human. Unlike fairies, this creature had no wings but it did have a long tail that ended in a puff of brown fur. In its hands was half an acorn shell that it was using it to scoop up the grain.

Ye little thief! Get out of there! Neala said.

It stuck its tongue out at her before leaping out of the bucket to scurry off with its treasure. The small menaces were always stealing something. She put the lid on the grain, making sure it was good and snug. If her da found out she’d forgotten to put it on he would have her mucking out stalls for a month solid. Given the chance, brownies would steal every bit of the grain.

Hooves prancing out a rhythm on the wooden floor, Dubh nickered as she entered his stall. He lowered his head the moment she lifted his bridle. When she was finished putting it on he gently pushed his head against her chest. The sadness in his green eyes made her think maybe he knew she was upset.

Yer a big help as always me friend. A good run through the woods is exactly what we need.

Using her energy, she pushed off from the ground and launched herself onto Dubh’s back. No amount of practice would enable her to mount that way without using her power, Dubh was simply too tall. The display of power was why her da had gotten so mad at her when she’d done it in town yesterday. Such a thing could expose them and that could be disastrous. The invaders killed her kind just because of what they were.

They shouldn’t have to hide what they are, Neala hated that.

Sliding into the most secure position on Dubh’s back, she took up the reins and urged him into a trot. Normally she couldn’t care less that she didn’t have a saddle but today even that bothered her. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it. Her family had plenty of coin. Her parents wouldn’t buy a saddle because it was a luxury item most people couldn’t afford. They didn’t want to draw attention to themselves.

Once they were clear of the barn Neala turned Dubh toward the misty forest and urged him into a canter. The moment they stepped into the trees the heady scent of pine and fertile ground enveloped them. The deeper they ran into the woods, the thicker the patchy mist became. It soon covered the ground, reaching up to Dubh’s ankles. While they could see the trees and dodge easily in and out of them, Neala couldn’t see the ground. Soon the mist was up to Dubh’s hocks but by then she was leaning into the damp wind, too immersed in the ride to care. She felt free with the wind whipping through her hair, almost as if she could fly.

The trees flashed by and the fog curled up around them, teasing her booted feet. Sunlight streamed through the massive pines where it could find an opening between the feathery boughs. The light bounced off the fog, making it harder to see. Just as she started to feel bad for her recklessness and picked up the reins to slow Dubh down, he slipped.

Time slowed in that terrible way it did when something bad happened. Dubh’s right front leg slid out from under him and he started to go down. Shifting her weight back, Neala pulled on the reins, trying to help him lift his head and regain his balance. For a moment it seemed like it was going to work. Then he toppled over onto his side. A sharp, intense pain shot through her right ankle as the huge stallion landed on her. She cried out and Dubh leapt off her, but the damage was done.

The pain made it hard to think. She reached for her ankle and cried out again as the touch sent slivers of agony lancing into her. It was broken, she was sure of it. With a boot on it was hard to tell how bad. Tears made tracks down her cheeks. She lay back onto a bed of cold, wet ferns and tried to slow her breathing. The last thing she needed was to pass out.

Dubh’s big black head poked through the mist and sniffed her face. His eyes were filled with a worried, almost guilty look. Concern for him shot through her.

Are ye all right? she asked him.

He proved he was by prancing about before putting his nose down to sniff her foot. He snorted, blowing horse snot all over her boot.

Lovely, just what I need, she gasped around the pain.

The fog swirled as Dubh lifted his head and looked around. Neala did the same, not liking the tension that rippled across him. It was hard to tell because of the white clouds of fog that hugged everything, but she knew she’d never been to this part of the forest. The ferns, vines, and trees were similar, but unlike the trees near her home the trunks of these were choked with moss. A river rushed along in the distance. There wasn’t a river within miles of her home. She was on another clan’s property. And she was forbidden to be here.

Fear gave her enough strength to brace against the tree near her in an attempt to get up. A searing pain shot through her ankle as she tried to move it. She screamed and tried to muffle the sound by clamping a hand over her mouth. Tears slid down her cheeks as she ground her teeth against sobs. She couldn’t take the chance of anyone hearing her. Other clans tolerated those that lived next to them but only if they didn’t come onto their land. People were killed and battles were started over such things.

Dubh went very still. Neala stiffened, knowing it wasn’t a good sign. Something was making him nervous. True, he was high-spirited but

Reviews for To Ride A Puca

[bhwrn1_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I would like to thank author Heather McCorkle for providing me with a digital copy of this book to read and give an honest review. I have heard such great things about Heather's books, I jumped at the chance to read and review this one!Blurb from Goodreads:Invaders are coming to take what isn't theirs, again. Neala wants to stand and fight for her homeland, but as one of the last druids, she may be standing alone. Persecuted, hunted down, forced to live in obscurity, the druids have all but given up. Can the determination of a girl who has barely come into her power bring them together? Or, just when she finally finds her place among her kind, will they end up losing a homeland their very magic is tied to?I will first off be honest and tell you that I did not read the blurb for this book, so I had no idea what it was about when I went into it. I had heard such great things about Heather's writing, I didn't feel the need to find out. Plus, I didn't want my reading experience to be skewed by anything I might have "assumed" through reading the blurb. I also did not read any reviews prior to this book, for the same reason as stated above.First, I would like to comment on this awesome cover. I just love the face of the horse. At first I did not understand why the horse had to be the main focus for the cover. I thought, as I was reading, that perhaps the main character should have been placed on the cover. But once things were revealed to me, I began to understand why it was important to have this very cover! It really does fit the story perfectly once you have read it.Second, can I just say that I love the names the author picked for the characters in this book. The book takes place in Ireland, so of course you figure there will be Irish names. However, I was not expecting older names, of course I did not know the time frame of the book, either. Once that was revealed, I was pleased to see that the author must have done her research to make sure the names were appropriate. The historical significance of the names really does give so much credit to the author. Now, for the characters. What can I say about Neala? She is such a great character. So well developed. her arc is awesome. You really see her grow and come into herself during the book. She is not your typical teenager, filled with angst and annoyance. She is independent and almost always self-assured (which I really loved). She easily recognized right from wrong and didn't put herself into situations she thought would be too hard for her to handle. She shows her love for family. And, despite, not having any friends for most of her life, she is able to easily accept people when they finally show an interest in befriending her. She stands up and fights for what she believes in, even when she knows those around her might be unhappy with that decision. The one thing that bothered me about her was her quickness to fall for a guy. During the course of the book, I could not believe how many romantic interests she had. What can I say about Bren. He is obviously sexy. He is confident, that is for sure. He knows what he wants and he pursues with such enthusiasm it is surprising he doesn't run right over everyone he thinks might be standing in his way! He does portray a typical teenage boy whose mind is filled with hormonal feelings and wonderings about the opposite sex. But he is also committed to his friends and loved ones, and would put his life right on the line for them when necessary.Dubh, what a horse! Big and strong. Beautiful and graceful. And completely protective of Neala. I love how he is not afraid to "stick his nose" into situations, literally, when he knows that things might not be right. He is definitely Neala's guardian angel!And what to say about Tyr, the sexy Dane. Well, just picturing him on his steed at the end made me want to cry for him. He is strong and lovable and makes certain that Neala knows he is unlike the other Danes from which he is descended.And to all the other characters, which are too many for me to name and describe, well, let's just say Ms. McCorkle really knew what she was doing by introducing them to us. They become Neala's family, if they are not already, and they help take us on a magical and mystical journey through the history of these Druids.All the characters are really well developed in this book. I could picture each and every one of them in my mind and felt a connection to all of them, good or evil. They lead you on an adventure that is unlike any other you have been on before.I don't read much fantasy, but I really enjoyed the mythology associated with this book. It was a new and completely unusual world for me. I was drawn into the hills of Ireland and overtaken by it's people and their way of life. The world building was really well thought out and described. I also loved that even tho Heather has written other stories in this series, there is no reason to read them to understand this particular book.I have to say that the multiple love interests of the main character got a little overwhelming and seemed a bit unrealistic. This was the only downfall I found with this book, and the reason why it did not get 5 stars from me.The book was engaging and, for me, a page turner. I really got immersed in the reading and didn't want to put it down. If you like books along the line of Percy Jackson, Harry Potter and other mythical type novels, then you will love this novel. It's a dark and sexy historical novel that will keep you enthralled from beginning to end!Bravo, Heather, for taking me on a journey I never knew existed!4 out of 5 stars from me!