Free Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles) by Natalie Wright Page A

said.
    “How kind of you,” Macha retorted.
    “What does it say?” asked Cian.
    “What does it say? It holds the key to the whole thing, old man. According to this, it wasn’t the torc at all. That sly minx. Putting all off the trail,” he said as he poured over the pages.
    “What is the key, then?” asked Cian.
    “A chalice,” replied Dughall.
    “A chalice?” asked Cian.
    “Yes, old fool. Is there an echo in here? A chalice. A cup,” replied Dughall.
    “That doesn’t sound right. It may be a trick,” said Cian. “When I was a Druid Priest, I don’t recall ever hearing about a sacred chalice. The torc yes, but not a chalice.”
    “Well, this was a well kept secret then, wasn’t it,” replied Dughall. “These deceitful women, they hid their secrets even from you Druids,” he said.
    “But if the key to the portal is a chalice, why did she hide the torc?” asked Cian.
    “Who knows, maybe it has some magic to it too. But I’m not interested in charming little spells. I will find this chalice,” Dughall said. “I will find it, and when I do, I will open the portal once again and then I will have all that I desire.”
    “A chalice? What is he talking about?” asked Jake.
    “Yeah, you never mentioned a chalice – whatever that is,” questioned Fanny.
    “A chalice is a large cup. But, ah my dear mistress, how clever she was,” Hindergog chortled. “She made this up, dear ones. There was no chalice.”
    “Oh my god, she lied,” I said.
    “Yes, she lied and what a beautiful lie it was. Dughall began a quest to find this ‘sacred’ cup, a quest that would last a lifetime,” said Hindergog.
    “This chalice, this isn’t the same chalice as they tried to find in the Crusades, is it?” asked Jake.
    “That young lad I do not know. I wish I could answer all your questions children, but sadly I cannot. Here is where my story comes to a close. My sight – all that I have seen – I could see because I am the keeper of the story of the High Priestess. When Saorla died and the torc hidden, my ability to see into your world faded.”
    “But I have so many questions Hindergog. Like how is it that this dude from over a thousand years ago is a threat to us now? And where is the torc? And when I find it, where is the portal and how do I get in?”
    “I don’t know, Emily,” Hindergog said sadly. “I wish I knew, my young Mistress, but I do not have the answers to all your questions.”
    “But you must have some idea,” said Jake. “Any clues you can give us. . .”
    “‘Us’,” I said.
    “Look, we’ve got to find this guy,” said Jake.
    “I don’t really see why ‘we’ need to do anything,” I said. “Look Hindergog, this is a gripping story and all. But I’m just a fourteen-year-old girl who’s flunking at least three subjects. I’m not really up for a quest to save the world and all,” I said.
    “Miss Emily, you may not have a choice,” replied Hindergog.
    “What do you mean, munchkin?” asked Fanny.
    “Dughall may be a killer, devoid of human emotion, but he is exceptionally smart. He may track you down, Emily. He won’t take any chances that Saorla’s descendant will outwit him this time,” was Hindergog’s answer.
    “What do you mean, ‘Saorla’s descendant?’” I asked.
    “Yeah, you never did explain exactly how Emily relates to all this,” said Jake.
    “Well you are Saorla's descendant, of course. You have Priestess blood running through your veins,” answered Hindergog.
    “But Saorla died,” I said.
    “Jeez Em, weren’t you paying attention?” asked Fanny. “Sorcha. She’s your ancestor. She lived.”
    We were all quiet for a moment as we reflected on all that Hindergog had said. Of course. Sorcha - the daughter of Saorla and Cathaír.
    I hurled questions at Hindergog. “Tell us more about Sorcha. What happened to Cathaír when he left the Grove? Did he go to Sorcha? Did he hide the torc?”
    “I know child, so many questions. But I do not have