Awakening the Gods
Page 25
She shifted her gaze to me. It faltered a moment and then it brightened. “Bríd,” she said softly. “So good to see you. I understood you walked among us again.”
I had no patience for pleasantries. “Do something,” I wailed. “You have to help him.”
Airmid glanced past me at the figure that lay beside me and I saw the disappointment and sorrow on her face a moment later. She looked at me, eyes filled with compassion. “There’s nothing that can be done now. Nothing I can do.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. It can’t be true. There must be something.”
Finn came to my side and tried to pull me up. “I know it’s difficult, Saoirse. We all loved Smithy. It seems impossible to let him go.”
I resisted his efforts. “No. We can’t let him go. I won’t let him go. There has to be something we can do. Anu didn’t bring me back for nothing. For this.”
“She didn’t plan for this,” said Finn. “It was something that happened.”
I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand across my nose. I rose and took a deep breath, glaring at Daghda. “If it’s as Anu says, then she brought me back. With your help. With the help of many of you.” I glanced at Finn and Airmid. “So if I could be brought back, after years of being dead and buried,” I said, my voice hard. “Then you can bring Smithy back. Goibhniu. You need him.” I held up the hiltless dagger, now safely replaced in my belt. “Don’t you agree, Finn? You’ve held this dagger. You know what we can do, the both of us. Smithy and me. Together. If you’ve any chance against Balor you know you need us. Both of us.”
Daghda looked at Finn. He gave a nod.
“Let me see the dagger,” said Daghda.
I strode across the room and placed the dagger in his hand. He clasped it, felt its weight, waved it in a circle and then looked at me, his eyes gleaming.
“I can’t deny its power,” he said.
“No,” I said. “It’s the only weapon we have so far. But there could be more.”
Daghda frowned.
I looked at Airmid. “Who was responsible for bringing me back? Was it you?”
“No,” said Airmid, softly. “Diancecht.”
“Then take me to him.” I cast my mind back, trying to remember the details of Anu’s explanation of what had happened with me. “Slane,” I said. “The Well of Slane. They bathed me in its waters.” I looked at Daghda. “Where’s the well?”
“It’s blocked,” said Daghda. “We blocked it up again after Diancecht dipped you in the well.”
“We’ll have to unblock it, then,” I said. I looked at them all, their expressions filled with scepticism and something else. Fear. I looked at each one. “What is it?”
Finn looked at Daghda and then spoke. “It’s an uncertain, the well. It may not succeed. And the outcome, well, it might not be all that you hoped.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded tersely. “Surely it’s better than being dead.”
Finn sighed. “He may not be all that he was. Half alive. His memory, his strength, his power could be gone.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll take that chance. I can’t accept the other alternative.”
Daghda heaved a weary sigh. “Very well. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“No,” I said. “We’ll leave now.”
“Shall I let Diancecht know to meet us there?” asked Finn, looking at Daghda.
“No,” he said. He glanced at Airmid. “Fetch him yourself. I would rather not allow him the freedom to move around unaccompanied. And he’ll understand better that just because we’re asking his help, his punishment still stands.”
Finn turned and gave some orders to the other warriors in the room. They left, I presumed to prepare for our journey. Airmid came over to me and we knelt beside Smithy.
“Here,” she said. “I’ll help you get him ready for the journey.
“Thank you,” I said.
We worked in silence for a little while, binding the wound at Smithy’s side and crossing his arms over his chest out of the way of the men who lifted him onto a makeshift litter.
“Why is Diancecht being punished? What did he do to his son?”
“He killed him,” said Airmid flatly.
I recoiled slightly in horror. “Killed him, but why?”
Airmid frowned. “Jealousy.”
“Jealousy? What was he jealous of?”
“His power. My brother was the most powerful man of medicine. He knew every herb and every treatment. Diancecht couldn’t live with that.”
I stared at her, digesting her words. “He was your brother? Diancecht is your father?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes awash with tears and a mixture of emotion. “Much to my shame, Diancecht is my father.”
I exhaled slowly, the connections nearly too much for me. This man, this healer, Diancecht, wasn’t all powerful as I’d thought. He was a man full of pettiness who could murder his own son. Was he the right person to give Smithy over to? I wasn’t certain at this point I could have faith in him to ensure Smithy came out of this whole and alive. I placed my face in my hands and sighed. What choice did I have?
34
Saoirse
Daghda sat silently up front, his eyes on the horizon. Directly behind him lay Smithy, grey and still, a blanket wrapped tightly around him. A sharp breeze created by the speed at which we travelled caught a lock of Smithy’s hair. It was enough to fool anyone who might glance at him for the first time to think he might be only be very ill, rather than beyond help.
But he wasn’t beyond help, I assured myself. It was an assurance I’d repeated the whole of the journey to the well. I pulled my jacket tighter and buttoned it up further. I was more than grateful for Maura’s jacket and that she had the foresight to give it to me. I was grateful to her for more than that and I could only hope that I would be able to return the jacket and favours with it.
“Is it much longer now?” I asked.
I’d refrained from asking this question for a good while, conscious that it sounded like the whiny cliché it was. But at this point I was beyond caring. My care of how it sounded had vanished several kilometres back. Now my patience had jumped ship as well.
Daghda looked back at me. “Not long. We should see the fort at Slane shortly.”
The fort. It was a landmark at least. I looked anxiously ahead. We’d travelled by boat for the most part, I’d realised, because the waterways would allow the speed the horses couldn’t. But even when we were mounted, with Smithy’s body slung across Daghda’s saddle, the horses suddenly appearing out of nowhere, the horses seemed to possess a speed and stamina I didn’t think was normal. I was no horsewoman. But somehow I was able to ride with grace and agility, as if the skill had been stored in my body, somehow.
But the boat had appeared when we reached the next river that would take us closer to our destination. The current seemed to favour us, even when it shouldn’t. I had stopped trying to question all of it, to forget any application of the rules and probabilities of the world I was used to and just accept it. But it wasn’t always easy. And that difficulty fed my own doubts about any success with Smithy. And the doubts about the truth of my own existence. I would have to just hope, trust and believe, like any good Wendy clapping for Tinkerbell.
“There it is,” said Daghda. “Slane Fort.”
I followed his gaze and could see a curved stone wall up ahead. Slane Fort, I presumed.
“Slane Fort,” I murmured. “Slane. As in Slane Castle?” I don’t know why I hadn’t linked it before, but since I hadn’t ever been to one of the famous concerts or even visited the area around Slane Castle, I hadn’t put it together before now.
“Yes. That’s what’s there, in the time across the water.”
“But here, in this world, Slane Fort is on that rise. And the well is there, too?”
Daghda nodded. “It’s in both worlds. And blocked in both worlds.”
“So, we’re in County Meath? Doesn’t that mean
Tara isn’t far away?”
Daghda turned and levelled a glance at me. “Yes, why?”
I smiled. “That means Diancecht wouldn’t have that far to travel.”
Daghda nodded. “He should be there when we arrive.”
I sat back, pleased, even though I knew that Daghda still had grave reservations about this whole undertaking.
We approached the bank near the fort and I could see figures standing there, waiting for us. Finn and a thin, bony man with a craggy face and long, white hair. His dark, piercing eyes glittered at Daghda. Diancecht, I presumed.
Finn pulled the boat in with the rope that Daghda tossed him, and secured it to a ring embedded in the bank. I stepped out of the boat with Finn’s help and watched as, between them, Daghda and Finn lifted Smithy to the riverbank.
Diancecht knelt down beside Smithy and began to examine him, lifting the bandage on his arm and the one at his side to see the extent of the wounds. All the while Smithy lay there, pale and grey. The skin had begun to sink into the body and the limbs were stiffer than they had been when Smithy was placed in the boat.
I looked at Diancecht and his face held nothing but annoyance.
“How long dead?” he said in English, looking at Daghda.
Daghda shrugged. “A few hours, maybe a little more.”
Diancecht nodded and pursed his lips. He spoke to Daghda in their own language and I watched, frustrated. Daghda’s tone was matter of fact. Diancecht raised his brows and then looked at me. I gave him as firm and stubborn a look as I could muster. He gazed down at Smithy, seeming to weigh the possible options.
Finally, he stood. “There’s a large risk with what you propose, given that it’s been such a long time. And the state of him. Some of those wounds had been festering for days.”
Daghda looked over at me, his expression telling me that he had concluded the same thing before we even started this journey.
“I want to try,” I said in a loud voice. But I wanted to make it a statement, not a debate. “We’ll do this.” I looked up at the fort. “Where’s the well? By the fort?”
Diancecht frowned and then looked at Daghda, who shrugged again and nodded. Diancecht sighed.
“If you’re set on this course, we should go quickly. It’s nearly dusk and we want to have the task complete by dusk. It’s the best time to recover his soul, to sing it back to his body.”
I paused a moment, his words startling me. Singing? There was music involved with bringing someone back to life? To call his soul back? It was a concept that was surprising and at the same time it seemed right. Especially to someone like Smithy. The Smithy part of Goibhniu who was filled with music that could enchant the soul.
“Come, child,” said Diancecht, sharply. “There’s little time to lose.”
I moved towards Smithy and helped them carry him towards the stone, using the blankets as a makeshift litter once again. We trudged to the fort and around it, towards the back, to a sheltered place. We headed for a clump of trees and the small clearing within it. Diancecht signalled for us to put Smithy on the ground. It was then that I could hear the faint sound of water and I spotted a small pool, half-filled with rocks. Across from the pool a pile of rocks was stacked in a haphazard manner. The pool itself was more of a spring, though it looked to be the height of my waist and not very wide.
“I started clearing the well before you arrived,” said Finn. “I think there’s enough in order to submerge Smithy.”
“Perhaps a few more,” said Daghda. “What do you think, Diancecht?”
Diancecht nodded. He looked across at me and frowned. “This is your last opportunity to change your mind. The man you know might not be the man that returns. You must be prepared for that.”
I straightened. I’d made up my mind. There was no turning back. There was no other choice. “I understand. We still go ahead.”
I watched as Finn and Daghda cleared more rocks from the pool, Finn submerged to his hips thrusting the rocks towards Daghda, who took them and placed them on the grass. After a little while Daghda called a halt. Already the light by the pool was growing dim and I could see to my left that the sun’s rays had just disappeared from the fort.
Diancecht issued his orders quickly, in their language and Finn, now out of the pool, helped Daghda lift Smithy into the water. Diancecht slid into the pool, robe hitched up around his waist to expose his bony legs, and aided Smithy’s body into the water. Finn came back down beside him to hold Smithy and on impulse, I decided to join him there, splashing them all in my haste.
Diancecht gave me a dark look but I faced him down, my own glare matching his. “I am going to be here whether you like it or not.” Somehow, I knew I needed to be part of this process to help Smithy’s soul return. That with my presence, my touch, he would find the true path back. That I would get the true Smithy back.
“I’m his anam cara,” I said.
The words didn’t feel trite or “New Age” on my lips. It was truth. I was his soul friend and he mine. I would help his soul come back, rather than ensure its journey from his body to its home at death.
Diancecht gave me a resigned look and then turned once again to Smithy. He raised his hands palms outward and began to chant. The chanting echoed around us and continued for a while. My body began to hum in response. I could feel the whirl and twirl of a tune. A rolling, lilting sound of a flute and fiddle. I began to sing it. Sing it as notes that were stretched and full like waves on a long and a calming shore. A lullaby of notes, a waltz of notes that echoed again and again. I’d closed my eyes without realising it, the whole experience was just unfolding and unfolding without an effort.
I had no thought to time or place, it just happened and continued and filled me until it stopped. It was then I opened my eyes. I looked over at Diancecht, whose arms were still raised upwards. He was silent. He lowered his arms and placed his hands on Smithy’s head and then pressed it down, so that his whole body was submerged. It lasted for what seemed an eternity as I watched anxiously, until suddenly, Smithy’s head burst through the water’s surface with his eyes open, his mouth spouting water. He was alive.
I threw my arms around him, uncaring for the others. “Smithy,” I cried. “Thank god.”
Smithy looked at me. “Thank God? Really?”
I laughed a laugh that was more hysteria than humour. “Thank Diancecht. Thank the Well of Slane.”
I kissed his mouth. It was cold and his lips were blue. “Let’s get you out of there, before you catch cold. I don’t want to go through this again.”
“There will be no ‘again’,” muttered Diancecht, stepping out of the pool with Daghda’s help.
I looked at him. “What do you mean?” I said tersely.
“This time and no more,” he said.
I looked at Smithy. “This time, then. I only need this time.”
Finn led Smithy to the edge of the pool and Daghda helped him out, followed by me and then Finn. Smithy stood there, shivering and I placed the blanket around his shoulders.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said.
“Your arm? Your side? Are they paining you?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. Really. There’s no pain.”
Diancecht moved the blanket aside and began to examine Smithy. He grunted a few times and then looked up at Smithy.
“You were lucky,” he said. “Everything seems to be healed.” He added a few words in their tongue and Smithy gave him a sour look but said nothing.
I pulled the blanket back around Smithy, thrilled at the news of his healed wounds.
“Come on, then,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
Smithy leaned over and gave me a squeeze. “Sounds perfect.”
I looked at Diancecht. “I can’t thank you enough. I know that you were reluctant to do all this, but I will be forever grateful to you for it.” I turned to Daghda. “And to you for supporting me in it as well, however much you were against it.”
Diancecht just gave a nod, his sour demeanour unchanged. Finn nodded and said it was no bother at all. Daghda placed a brief, bewildering kiss on my forehead and laid his hand on Smithy’s shoulder.
“Goibhniu,” he said, his voice grave. “You were returned for a reason. The time has come. We must all answer this call.”
Smithy looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I know,” he said finally.
“Tell Anu that we are preparing now,” said Daghda. “We will be ready when the battle is upon us.”
“I’ll tell her,” said Smithy.
“Now,” said Daghda. “The boat is waiting. We’ll leave you two to return across the water together. Finn and I will go to Tara with Diancecht.”
I took Smithy’s hand and led him to the boat where it sat moored, ready. We stepped in, one at a time, cast off and headed back across the water, towards whatever would await us there.
Epilogue
SMITHY
Smithy glanced around the table at the people listening to Anu attentively. He could hear her words, but they just weren’t that interesting. Bríd was sitting next to him, and even that didn’t give him comfort. Maura eyed him curiously, as if she suspected that something wasn’t right, but he didn’t care. She would never voice it to anyone else. Bríd placed her hand on his leg and began to rub it. It was all he could do not to flinch. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Or her touch. He longed for it in some ways, in his heart, but his body, well, it found it difficult. It found a lot of things difficult and it was all he could do in these few days since they’d returned to this side of the water, since they crossed, since he’d come back from the dead, to hide all of this from Bríd. From everyone.