Awakening the Gods
Page 26
What had come back from the dead? It didn’t seem like him. His limbs sometimes found themselves at odds. His hands didn’t feel able to understand what he wanted. And he felt distant from everything. Even Bríd.
“Smithy,” said Anu. “Are you listening?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Did you hear what I said about Balor?”
He frowned, shook his head. “Sorry, wool gathering.”
She sighed and gave him a concerned look. “He’s returned to America to try and get approval for his energy company’s expansion over there. Hopefully that will keep him busy while we can gather our resources. There’s much to do. We still haven’t found and retrieved all the treasures. And Lugh. He’s still a problem.”
“You haven’t found him yet?” asked Smithy.
“No. Maura has been out with the others, checking various places. All we know is that he’s here, somewhere.”
“That’s not much to go on,” said Maura.
Bríd remained silent, following the conversation with nods. She’d been overwhelmed with all the events and all that she was required to understand, now that Anu had let her in on the full picture of who we were and the challenges before us. She’d eagerly agreed when Anu had suggested this meeting to help her understand. But he could see she was floundering and the hand placed on his leg was a way for her to gain reassurance from him. But he had nothing to give. For so many reasons. The irony of his position didn’t escape him. After wanting Bríd for so long, after enduring the heartbreak and pain of her loss, he now had her, whole, intact and wanting him. And he could give her nothing. Hilarious. It would make a fine song, an air that would endure, but he wouldn’t be singing it. His music was dead.
This feeling had been with him since his return from the Otherworld. Had it become increasingly worse? It felt that way, as each day he was exposed to more parts of his old life, of who he was. His body was no longer familiar to him, as if he was managing the limbs with a remote control, or a puppet master.
He sighed and tried to concentrate once more. “When was the last time you saw Lugh?”
Anu, Maura and Finn all looked at him quizzically.
“Nothing in a long while. Not since, well, before the Gaels. Remember?” said Finn.
Smithy nodded. “Right. Just checking.”
In a way he wished Daghda was here. Somehow his presence would have helped. He understood Smithy. He knew his weaknesses and would have offered quiet support. At least he thought that was true. The memories were patchy at best. All he could remember was how he felt when Daghda had parted with Smithy and Bríd before their back here. Calm, strength, confidence. Díancecht, the fecker, had given him nothing. Just a sceptical look and a nod that only told Smithy he was on his own. And that was what he felt now, more than ever. On his own. Own, though. That implied he even knew the self that he was with. And that was far from the case. He wanted to stand, to excuse himself from this little gathering, but he didn’t even dare do that. Any sudden movements involving his legs especially could lead to catastrophic failure, and he couldn’t risk that. Or at least, he didn’t want to, not at the moment. He would leave the “when”, for now, because he knew the “when” would have to come. He couldn’t risk his life or anyone else’s because of his body’s failure. His days of being a warrior were over. His days of being anything were over. Blacksmithing, musician, everything. At least for now. How long he could safely fake it, until he could be certain the situation was permanent, he didn’t know.
Bríd leaned over to him. Or Saoirse. He should really think of her as Saoirse, because Goibhniu was gone at the moment, for all intents and purposes. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m grand,” he said and forced a smile. “I’m grand.”
He would try to believe it and hope that eventually it would become the truth.
Look for the next book in the trilogy:
In Search of the Hero God
COMING IN NOVEMBER 2021
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A Note on the Myths and Pronunciation
Some of the names can appear daunting to those not used to Irish or the names. And for those who like to know, I’ve just put a few here in case it increases the enjoyment of the novel.
* * *
Saoirse – SEER sha
Bríd – Breed
Aoife – EE fa
Anu – An New/An Na (ancient, so it varies)
Airmid – AIR med
Cían – KEE an
Cíara – Keer ah
Daghda – DAHG duh
Daragh – Da ruh
Díarmuid – Deer mud
Diancecht –Dee an kekt
Eilís – I leesh
Gearóid – Geh ROAD
Goibhniu – Gub New (another ancient one)
Líam – LEE um
Sinead – Shin aid
* * *
The Myths
The myths that are explained and interwoven in this novel are from The Book of Invasions (Leabhar Gabhala) part of the collection of Irish myths. I have kept true to the myths, with the exception of a few interpretations and a little embellishment in the case of Bríd and Goibhniu. There is nothing in the myths that say they were together, but they are both smith gods, one female one male, so it seemed natural to link them. Bríd’s fate after she married Bres is true, except for the embellishment of her rape. It isn’t clear but it seemed a possible interpretation. She did give birth to three sons and died as a result of that birth.
* * *
Local myths are also interwoven. On the Kerry/Cork border you will find the Paps of Anu, breast shaped mountains that are always climbed on May 1. At their foot on the Kerry side, it is said by some that the Tuatha de Danann settled there. The site of St. Gobnait’s burial and her well is also celebrated. St Gobnait was also known as a smith and there are remains of an ancient smithy there. It is my own view that it might have also been seen as a place where Goibhniu was either venerated or an ancient smith worked and invoked him there, and later became associated with the convent of religious women that was established later, led by a doubtlessly indomitable woman who came to be known as St Gobnait, a name very close to the god’s and one that has no English translation in truth. (You can see my idea of her in my novel, In Praise of the Bees.) Some see the translation as ‘Abby’ but that’s more than likely just an adaptation because of the ‘abbess’ aspect of St Gobnait’s role.
Acknowledgments
As usual I owe a great debt of thanks to my alpha team of readers, especially Jean, Jane, Claire and Babs and this time adding Lizzie, who gave a great fresh perspective. I also had a fantastic group of beta readers, Saorlaith, Eilín, Síleann, and Eileen who kept my Ireland real and ensured the fadas were all where they should be.
Also I want to thank my fantastic editor, Sandra, and my wonderful cover designer, Jane Dixon-Smith whose wonderful creative genius have gone a long way to help make my books a success.
And most of all, I want to thank my wonderful readers, whose support down the years has helped to make my writing such a wonderful experience.
Author’s Note
Originally from Philadelphia, Kristin Gleeson lives in Ireland, in the West Cork Gaeltacht, where she teaches art classes, plays harp, sings in a choir and runs two book clubs for the village library. She holds a Masters in Library Science and a Ph.D. in history and for a time was an administrator of a large archives, library and museum in America. She also served as a public librarian in America and in Ireland.
Kristin Gleeson has also published The Celtic Knot Series and The Renaissance Sojourner Series. A free e novelette prequel, A Trick of Fate is available free online. In addition to her novels, a biography on a First Nations Canadian woman, Anahareo, A Wilderness Spirit, is also available.
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If you go to the author website and join the mailing list to receive news of forthcoming releases, special offers and events, you’ll receive an e novelette A Treasure Beyond Worth, a FREE prequel novelette and its ebook novel Along the Far Shores at www.kristingleeson.com
Music is a big part of Kristin’s life and many of the books have music connected to them. Listen to the music while you read—go to www.kristingleeson.com/music and download the files. Keep checking back, as more pieces will be added to the library in the course of time.