by D. E. Morris
A few steps led down into the shop, with packed clay floors that had tables and anvils sitting on them in a placement that seemed random. Tools stuck out of buckets or lay across flat surfaces. There was a heat in here that was immediately enveloping, and smelled of sweat and sulfur. A large man with long black dreadlocks tied back behind his head was doubled over a flat sheet of metal he was hammering. Mairead looked to his right to see someone else standing there as well, watching. She realized it was Niam and opened her mouth to call down to him. At that moment someone else did something to a wide-open fire pit on the far side of the room, making the searing flames roar higher than necessary and spit sparks into the air and across the expanse.
The floor felt as though it had dropped out on Mairead. She lost all feeling in her body as images of the explosion came rushing back to her so violently that she was immobilized. The basket dropped from her hands and tumbled to the ground. It must have been the sound of the jar containing the oil breaking that turned attention her way. Someone said her name but it sounded as though it came from a long distance away. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything, even when hands framed her face in an effort to tear her eyes from the flames that had died back down but were still high and raging in her own mind. She was being pulled outside then, as the tremors of sheer panic took over. Her feet moved mechanically as she was led down a side street and made to sit, her back against the wall of some solid structure.
“Mairead. Mairead, you're safe. You're safe.”
She looked around, wild and fevered, until hands framed her face again. It was only when he made her look at him did she realize it was Niam that was crouched before her.
“I cannot...breathe...” She wanted to scream, though she couldn't fully understand the desire built up within her. Her hands clawed at her veil to tear it off, then fluttered anxiously at the neckline of her gown as though they were moving on their own.
“Okay,” he said, calmly removing her veil for her. He took one of her hands, gentle as he uncurled fingers that had clenched into a tight fist, and pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. “Feel that?” he asked. She nodded quickly, her shaking making her feel as though her bones would rattle to pieces, yet she also felt the slow and steady pulse of a heartbeat beneath her touch. “Good. Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered softly when she began to look around again. “Mairead, look at me. You need to take some slow, deep breaths.”
She couldn't fathom even taking a slow breath, let alone a deep one, and shook her head vigorously.
“Yes,” he coaxed. “We'll do it together, all right? Look at me. Ready? Breathe in with me.” He held her hand, keeping it pressed to his chest as he breathed in, encouraging her with his eyes. She did her best to follow but felt her lungs fill too quickly. “Breathe out. Try to control it. Slow down and pay attention to the way the air feels as it moves inside your chest and your throat. Good. Try again, breathe in through your nose.” She pressed her lips tightly together, forcing herself to follow instruction. Niam nodded, breathing with her, a hint of a smile on his face. “You're doing great,” he told her quietly. “One more time in and out; ready?” She nodded, making sure to concentrate on the steady beat against her palm and the feeling of her breath moving through her body.
They sat there together for a few minutes, silent, just breathing together. Eventually her pulse slowed and the tremors stopped. For a small, brief moment she felt calm and almost at peace, but as always, the serenity was elusive. Embarrassment and anger chased quickly behind, making her look down. It seemed that Niam was prepared for this as well, and rubbed his thumb over her hand that was still against him. “There is nothing to be ashamed about. Don't let those feelings take away your peace.” Again, they were silent as she returned to focusing on her breath. After a minute or two, Niam asked, “How do you feel?”
“Better.” It was an honest answer, despite the anger that bubbled deep down. She looked at his hand over hers, struck by the sudden realization that he was not wearing a shirt and she was touching his bare skin. Shocked, she flinched back, though Niam seemed reluctant to let her go. She looked at his tanned skin, her face burning until she noticed the ridged scars that crisscrossed not only over his chest, but his entire torso. It looked like they even reached up over his shoulders and made her wonder if they covered his back as well.
Taking notice of her wandering eyes and her alarm, Niam gave her a small smile and moved out of his crouch before her to sit down beside her. “I told you not everyone had scars you could see.”
“What...what happened?” She knew it wasn't proper to ask, but nothing about this moment had been proper.
He drew his knees up and draped his arms over them, linking his hands together. “It isn't a very happy tale.”
“I imagine one that culminates in injuries like that would not be.”
Niam shook his head. “This was my punishment for being selfish and irresponsible.” He pressed his lips together, his eyes fixed on his hands for a few breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “When I was a kid...about Lady Rowan's age...some of my siblings and I decided to go out and play. It was in the middle of a harsh winter, one of the longest we've had in the lowlands in my lifetime. It felt like it snowed all the time and icicles would freeze on noses as soon as we stepped outside. Every now and then we would see a clear day, one where the sun broke through the clouds and sparkled on snow and ice, making it look like we lived in a faery kingdom. My sister, three years my junior, desperately wanted to go skating on a pond in the woods, so we gathered supplies, all seven of my siblings and I, dressed in our warmest furs, and headed out against the warnings of our tutors. When we reached the pond, some of us cleared off the ice of the snow while the rest built a fire for us to warm ourselves by. We stayed out there for hours, taking turns on the ice and thawing ourselves out by our small little camp. We'd brought enough food to last us all day, and we took advantage of the freedom, staying even past the setting of the sun. Being the eldest of the group by one month – a half-sister was born right after me – I was responsible for the safety of everyone there. When we all started running into each other in the dark, I suggested we skate with torches.”
A flicker of a smile touched his lips. “You should have seen us, skating around with fire over our heads. Someone who happened upon us might have thought we were performing some pagan ritual for the way we must have looked. I can't remember whose idea it was to throw the torches into the middle of the pond to make a new fire for us to skate around, but everything happened so quickly after that. We were having the time of our lives; our area was well lit and we had not a care in the world. My littlest sister, the one who had wanted to go skating in the first place, got cold and wanted to warm herself. By that time, the fire had burned long and hot enough to melt some the ice away to form a pit under itself. Any moment it was either going to sink down into the water or be drowned by what was collecting under it. We saw her head toward the fire too late. The ice cracked and crumbled under her weight.”
Mairead gasped, her hands going to her lips. “Oh, good heavens!”
“My brothers and I tried to reach her but she couldn't swim. Her furs became a weight around her body, and try as she might to shed them, she only became more and more entangled in them until they eventually dragged her down one final time.” He paused, his gaze far away and his jaw clenched. “I loved my sister. I love all my siblings even if we only share one parent, and I would let no one else take the blame. She was my responsibility. They were all my responsibility. I took the beating, and when it should have ended, when enough of me was bleeding, it should have ended, but my father was a man inconsolable. I was whipped and beaten until I couldn't even lift my head, and I felt I deserved every lash. A part of me still does.”
“Niam...I am so sorry.”
He turned slowly to look at her. “For a great many years after her death, the smallest things would take me right back to that moment: a cold breeze, a t
ouch of ice, the sound of something breaking, a child screaming...even the smell of a fire. I would feel the panic, and the fear and despair rising up within me so quickly that I would literally be paralyzed.”
It was exactly how she had been feeling when the flames in the forge rushed up. He knew how to calm her because he'd experienced it before himself. There was an odd sense of relief in knowing she wasn't alone in this, but her heart hurt for his loss and knowing he'd been so captured by something like this before as well. “How did you cope?”
“My mother.” His sad, wistful smile returned, but he didn't look away. “She did for me what I just did for you far too many times for me to count. She was my saving grace.”
“You must miss her terribly.” He didn't have to tell her that he did. The way his shoulders slumped and he swallowed told her that he felt her loss now just as freshly as he had when she passed. Looking down, it was impossible to miss the large tattoo that covered his shoulder, especially as it was pressed close to hers. The marking made it look as though pieces of his skin had been torn and pulled back to reveal armor underneath, complete with rivets, buckles, straps, and plates, and a large, intricate multi-stranded knot on what would be his pauldron. “And your tattoo?” she asked softly. “What does it mean?”
The question brought more of a genuine smile to his lips as he glanced at the artwork in question. “It means that my flesh may be weak, but underneath, I'm tough as steel.” His eyes wandered over the design that he must have studied a thousand times before. Soon enough he lifted his gaze to meet Mairead's. “I used to wonder why the Giver would let me go through something like that, why He would let me feel the way I felt for so long after, but I think I get it now.”
She felt heat rush to her cheeks without fully understanding why. “You do?”
“I wouldn't have been able to help you if I didn't know exactly what you were going through. I'm just glad I was here.”
Feeling her pulse quicken again, Mairead told herself to get up or to at least look away, but she found she couldn't make herself do anything at all. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I never experienced anything like that after I was attacked in the carriage so many years ago. Of course, I locked myself away in my room for a long time after as well. How long will this last?”
“Awhile,” he answered honestly. “It will get better, though. You just have to remember to breathe. You can also come talk to me anytime you want. Just...make sure I'm not here so as to avoid any potential repeats of what just happened.”
She finally looked away with a chuckle, only to remember what she'd brought him and look up again with a gasp. “I brought you some special oil as a thank you, and your sachet...they must both be ruined now.”
Niam waved a hand. “You didn't have to bring me anything, least of all the sachet back. Was it helping you sleep?” She nodded. “Then you definitely should have kept it. I already made myself a new one. I can make another for you, if you'd like.” Once more she nodded, making him smile. “Then that will be my task for the morning.”
A shadow passed by overhead, making them both look up to see a large dragon blocking the sun as it flew by. The coloring was familiar enough so that Mairead knew who it was instantly, though she was confused to see the dragon carrying only one passenger and no one else following. “I should return to the castle.”
He nodded reluctantly. “The high queen may need you.” With a breath in, he got to his feet, then reached down to take Mairead's hand and help her up as well. Giving her the veil back, he said, “You shouldn't be walking through the village alone, not until things are more settled. All Gaels need to be more careful. Perhaps I should walk you back.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” she answered lightly. “I already pulled you away from whatever you were doing long enough. I will be perfectly fine. Besides, someone might get the wrong idea if they see us walking alone together.”
Niam looked at her carefully, as though to scrutinize her expression for some hidden meaning. At length, he seemed to come to some kind of understanding within himself and looked down with a nod. There was clear disappointment in his down-turned lips. “Of course. Forgive me for being so presumptuous.”
Mairead's brow wrinkled, unable to follow his line of thinking. “I do not think-”
“I should get back to my work, as you suggest. After all, a blacksmith is only as good as the product he puts out and spending my time in conversation has yet to pay me enough to live on.” His smile for her was no longer quite so friendly, but much more guarded. He bowed his head in respect. “Be well, Lady Mairead.”
She watched him hurry past her, at a loss for understanding what had just happened. “Be well,” she echoed, though he was most certainly out of hearing distance now. Affixing her veil over her head once more and draping it across her face, she couldn't help but feel a little sadness over the way her exchange with Niam ended. She knew, however, there was nothing to be done for it now, and hurried back through the village to make her way home.
Badru and Ashlynn walked side by side in the bailey, several feet behind where Cavalon walked with Lochlainn and Lucien, deep in conversation. “It is remarkable to me,” the old man commented quietly, “how much your son looks up to Cavalon, and how much Lucien obviously admires and respect Jaryn. I have never seen two families who lived so far apart so close.”
Ashlynn couldn't help but smile as she watched them. “It has been that way since they were babies. They are brothers in every sense of the word, and have two sets of parents. It helps that we visit Braemar often, just as Cavalon and Nuala come here.” She sighed. “Cavalon has been trying to help Lochlainn shift but nothing seems to be working. That was why I sent word to you. You are also someone he looks up to a great deal, and I was hoping the added presence of another strong male shifter would help him find his confidence.”
“I can certainly try. He is still so young. It is not a wonder that the change does not come to him easily.”
“I don't want to wait much longer,” Ashlynn said lowly.
“Then we will do our best to help him.”
All three of them offered nothing but words of instruction and encouragement as Lochlainn struggled to shift his body. Even at such a tender age, he was already a perfectionist, and each time the shift did not come, he would berate himself over his lack of skill. Ashlynn reminded him that it wasn't easy for any of them when they first learned how to transform, that none of them could call the change forth and complete it seamlessly their first few tries, but that did little to lift his spirits. Others came and went, curious and also hoping to lend some sort of encouragement, but before long, Lochlainn was in tears and ready to quit.
“Lynnie.”
As her son was being spoken to in a quiet, calming manner by Badru, Ashlynn turned at the sound of her sister's voice. Kenayde glanced past her at Lochlainn with a small frown, making Ashlynn shake her head. “Everything is fine. He's just having a hard time shifting.”
“I know,” Kenayde confessed softly. “I was watching from inside.” She bit her lip before asking, “May I?” With a sweep of her hand, Ashlynn stepped aside and allowed Kenayde to pass. She wasn't sure what her sister could do or say that hadn't already been offered, but at this point she was willing to try anything.
“Lochlainn?” Kenayde crouched beside her nephew, her skirt pooling around her. When he turned his tear stained face toward her, she gave him a kind smile and pushed a clump of sweaty hair from his face. Without another word, she pulled him in for a hug, cradling his head against her shoulder as though he were her own child. “I know,” she whispered when his tears came again. “It is not an easy thing, is it, to shift for the first time?”
“I can't do it,” he wailed.
“Yes, you can.” Pushing him away enough to be able to look into his face, her brows rose in challenge. “You know what a big responsibility it is to be a Gael.” He sniffled and nodded, scrubbing his knuckles into his eyes. “You also know you are not just anothe
r Gael.”
“Someday I'll be the Earth Elemental,” he hiccuped.
“Is that scary?” His bottom lip quivered and he nodded. “Is being a Gael scary, too?”
He nodded again. “People don't like Gaels.”
Ashlynn, Cavalon, and Badru exchanged regretful looks with one another, but Kenayde nodded at her nephew. “There are people who do not like Gaels. You are not wrong...but do you know how many people here at Altaine, in all of Siness, love and want to keep the Gaels safe?” He shook his head, mute. “So many more people than want to hurt them, especially here at the castle.”
“A lot of Gaels live in Siness, too,” Lucien added, standing beside Kenayde.
“They do,” she agreed. “I know being different feels unsafe right now, but you could never be more protected or secure than you are here with all of us. We are your family, Lochlainn. We will guard you and keep you out of harm's way to the best of our abilities.”
“Me and my father will, too, right Père?”
“You better believe it,” Cavalon affirmed.
Kenayde smiled and gave Lochlainn a little shake, bringing a tiny smile to his lips. “See?” she asked. “I will not tell you not to be afraid. Never let anyone tell you not to feel the way you feel. What I will tell you is that you cannot let your feelings keep you from living your life.” She looked at him with great seriousness. “Do you want to shift?”
“Yes.”
His answer was weak, which made her narrow an eye at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes...but I'm still scared.”
Kenayde nodded knowingly. “I was scared my first time, too, and I was a great deal older than you are. I tried and tried, and I kept failing. Do you know what finally helped me?”