Dark clouds moved across the sky, blocking out the sun. A fine mist fell on the windshield, barely enough for the driver to put on his wipers. He had the heat on full blast, since it was so damp and raw. On our way to pick up the cab, Liam had bought the three of us black Save Tara hoodies. We looked like ridiculous tourists, but at least we were warm.
We arrived at the entrance to the Hill of Tara just after four o’clock. Ethan and I walked up to the gate where a sign read Boyne Valley Visitors Center Open for Admission 31 October 17:00- 21:00.
“The gate is locked,” I said, giving it a shake.
“That won’t be a problem,” Liam said, strolling up to my side. His hair was a little wind-blown, but otherwise you’d never be able to tell he’d just run thirty miles.
“Oh, yeah?” Ethan said. “How’s that?”
Liam fixed a steady stare on us. “We’ll be glamoured. Rules of admission do not apply.”
Ethan grinned. “Even me?”
“Even you.”
“Nice,” Ethan said, looking down at his arms.
“Follow me,” Liam said as he walked around the visitors enter. There was a short fence, but we hopped over it easily.
A few people were scattered over the field stretched out before us. The land was dotted with burial mounds thousands of years old. I’d read a little about Tara and the Hill of Hostages before we came. This place was rich with legends of kings from hundreds and thousands of years ago.
“See that cross?” Liam asked, pointing to a large stone cross surrounded by a low iron fence.
“It marks the spot of the Battle of Tara Hill in the late eighteenth century. On top of that mound behind it is the Stone of Destiny. It was moved to this spot after the battle to honor the soldiers who died.”
“The Danaans brought the stone here, right?” I asked.
Liam nodded. “That’s what they say. I was brought up believing it was used as a coronation stone for the High Kings. But as it turns out, it was a gift from the Danaans to the High Kings. The properties of the fháillan increased their power, and they didn’t even know it.”
“Saoirse told me it’s the largest piece of fháillan in existence,” I said.
“Right,” Liam said, squinting at the stone. “Which is why Aoife needs to use it.”
“If Aoife were to show up here right now, we’d be screwed,” Ethan said.
“Yes. Let’s go across to that hedge,” Liam said, pointing toward another hill about five hundred yards behind the Stone. “We can keep out of sight over there.”
At the bottom of the hedge, pale pink, star-shaped wildflowers still held on to their blooms. We sat on the cold, damp ground, the fragrance from the flowers spreading with the chilly wind.
We stayed quiet. We wouldn’t be seen by the locals, but if by any chance Aoife was within earshot, we didn’t want to risk her overhearing us.
The clouds scattered, halting the cool, misty rain. As the sun lowered over the horizon, it cast the green hills around us in a glorious golden tone.
Every few minutes one of us peaked over the hedge to see what was going on with the festivities. There was a crew assembling four large, curved metal plates into a fire pit on the flat field between the burial mounds. Liam told me they weren’t allowed to light a bonfire directly on the ground.
A crowd of people gathered at the gate as the sky darkened. Men and women carried torches around, adding a sense of ancient mystery to the landscape.
When the gate opened, we stood, the cloak of darkness keeping us hidden. The bonfire was lit by the torchbearers, starting as a tiny flame but quickly igniting into a crackling blaze.
A group of musicians set up not far from where we hid. One held a large frame drum, another a set of pipes and the third a tin whistle like Aodhan’s. One of them did a count of three and the night was filled with the sounds of a haunting Irish tune.
A coil of panic seized my chest. I was so scared of what was in store, that my fingers started going numb. But there was no turning back now, this was what we’d been hoping and planning for since I’d first met Liam over the summer. It was bigger than me or the fear spreading through my limbs.
Ethan wrapped his arm around my waist, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “This is going to work,” he said.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, hoping a fraction of his confidence might rub off on me. Feeling his arm, firm and strong around my waist kept my fear under control.
Liam watched the bonfire, determined set to his jaw. The flames reflected in the clear blue of his eyes, and I could see that no matter what it cost him, he was ready. Ready to take back his freedom from the one who’d stolen it from him all those years ago. As I watched, it came to me that he was as much a prisoner as my mother.