“Thank you,” I whispered again. I put my hands on the boots.
The selkies had no use for footwear or apparel. As a human, I needed one more than the other but preferred both for protection from the elements. At least, I’d die with my boots on, as soon as they dried enough for me to wear again. I needed to dry out, too.
I turned and sat up. My back ached, and my feet had cuts on the bottom from walking for miles barefoot in unfamiliar terrain. I sat cross-legged and heard more movement around me, in the water and on the shore in the cave. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I continued to survive. Somehow, for some reason, I had a little luck on my side.
One of the selkie females rose from the shimmering black pool before me. I saw the dome of her head, hair matted to her scalp. She stared at me from the surface of the still water. When I saw more of her coming toward me, slow, confident, I saw a ripe scar across her shoulder where one of the marauders had abused her while captive. I saw more of her coming out of the water. Her unabashed naked form rose from the water in front of me. I gave her a knowing smile. I knew this was the selkie I managed to help get back into the water.
She leaned forward and extended her long, strong arm. I held out my hand. The selkie gently placed the dirk into my open palm. The blade and carved cover intact, it was one item I had missed, and now I had it once again.
“Thank you so much,” I said. I pulled my hands to my chest to show gratitude to her. I bowed my head slightly, leaning forward. I felt her fingers in my hair.
I didn’t stop her from touching my head. I had nothing left to lose. After everything I endured, I doubted she meant me any trouble if she found my knife at the bottom of the loch. The selkie pulled at strands of my hair. When I saw the ends of the hair, I realized she found more areas on my head where the hair had turned white.
I nodded.
“Yup, weird, I know.”
I moved slowing to stand up, using the knob of a stony pillar to pull myself upright. I saw the selkie pull herself from the water, too. I saw moderate human characteristics. The legs were substantial with flipper clawed feet, and her upper body had more mass. She looked a lot better. The plump face, dark eyes, and snub snout with long whiskers were the same features I remembered from our time together among our common enemies.
“I think Evander’s dead,” I said. “I hope you will get better.”
I felt the saturated water clinging to my jeans and sweatshirt. I felt the stiff muscles of my limbs. More of the cave came into view after some time within the dim purplish light.
The selkie shuttered, shaking her body, and water splashed on me. I saw some modulating and undulating of her skin. The seal-like characteristics changed enough that the selkie looked human-ish again. She squatted in front of me. The thin frame looked healthier, but I saw the white raw lines from the whipping on her back and at her wrists. She’d wear the scars of humans for the rest of her life. Even after the humiliation and pain, I found myself in awe of the selkies and their willingness to save me, a human.
I kneeled before the selkie as she continued to transform. I saw her head turn slightly, watching me. I saw the membrane of webbing pull back from the fingers, making separate digits over claws. It was a spectacular display of something I didn’t understand about the new world.
The newly formed fingers pressed against her mouth, and then she reached for my lips. The black fingernails scraped my cheek. I understood the gesture.
“If you’re trying to thank me for giving you water, you don’t have to do that.” I sighed, feeling obligated to her entire tribe in the cave under the loch. I got a better look around. I saw the translucent rock glowing lavender and the creatures moving within its light. I saw what looked like crystals poking out from the cave walls and ceiling. I saw so many sets of eyes watching me. I shook my head. “I’m sorry those men tortured you. You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that kind of treatment.” The creatures lived a life of fear from humans, and for a good reason. I knew the essential act of saving one life of the selkie set up something between her and me. The others saw it, but it was a tense silence that enveloped me. I didn’t hear oral communication, but I felt they looked on me with some trepidation, thinking that saving my life was possibly a mistake.
I stood up and looked around. I knew I was a stranger in their midst. I knew they needed me to leave because the selkie were creatures of the loch, and I was a being of the land. I suspected they probably migrated or ventured from different bodies of water when they mated or mingled. The selkie I helped escape was welcomed among the others of the loch, but I felt like an outsider who needed to leave before they decided to get rid of me.
“Is there another way out of here?” I asked and added, “please.” Trying to hold my breath again and feeling the intense pressure of the water crushing the life out of my tired lungs didn’t help.
The girl remained crouched on the cave floor. I saw her hand lift, and a few fingers pointed in a direction. When I turned to look, I saw the cave pressed together in that direction. The ceiling curved down to meet the floor. But I saw a distinct black slice between the rocks—the carved tunnel surrounded by the collapsed and collided piles of mineral deposits. The opening looked big enough for a medium-sized dog.
Regretting it, but necessary, I stepped into my soggy boots. I laced up the eyeholes in the leather as best I could with the remaining pieces of string. I stood and sighed with the boots on and walked to the area of the cave where she pointed. I felt cold air rushing to meet me. I saw through the other side of the collapsed tunnel. There was an opening big enough to let in or out small animals, but not big enough to take me out of the cave.
I began working to pull away the small bits of rock from the mouth of the tunnel. I felt the breeze push at my wet bare flesh. I felt the selkies gathering behind to watch but not join in pulling away the debris from the tunnel. It was a hopeless cause. I hadn’t managed to move enough stone to make a hole big enough for me to get out. Open air and daylight was teasing me just beyond reach.
I turned back to see the selkies waiting, watching. I saw the female approach. She had a distinct familiarity now. I knew her among the others, and I recognized her in a way I could pick out a person in a crowd.
She watched me, and I saw her eyebrows furrow. She pointed to my middle. Her hands went together and pulled apart. It was a well-defined movement, like sign language.
“I’m not sure what that means,” I said.
The second time she did it, I knew she understood my language. I even saw her rolling her eyes a little. It made me feel better, lightened my spirit. She pointed at my middle. I had the dagger in the center pocket of my maroon hooded sweatshirt. She made the motion again, hands joined together, and separating again.
I removed the dirk from my center pocket.
“I can’t cut the stones with my knife,” I said.
She took several steps back. Other selkie dove into the pool, while more hid behind the stalagmites. I held the wooden sheath and grabbed the handle. When the blade withdrew from the cover, the fire erupted from the knife. The intense arcing blue flame burst from the dirk. It was the long impossible burning rope that cut Broken Toe in half. I’d forgotten how it worked with all the craziness.
It took me by surprise, but the rest of the selkies knew the dagger had power. I flicked my wrist. The end of the fire rope lashed out and cut a chunk of granite from the cave. The massive piece dropped to the floor in a whomp. It was uncalculated and almost collapsed on my foot.
“Oops, sorry,” I said. I felt embarrassed but extremely excited. I stood before a group of aliens in their world, and I held something impossible in my world. It was an ordinary dagger in an ornamental case, yet it had immense and uncalculated power. It was a power that I managed to bend to my will.
If it had that same influence in the selkie’s hand, would she return it to me? I felt she underst
ood the magic contained inside the dirk better than I ever would. It was alive with a blue flaming rope or whip that went a few meters beyond the hilt. Its subtle strength felt nothing like the weight of a dagger that could cut through granite and people like smoke.
I had the sheath in my left hand, the dagger in my right. With my hand relaxed, the blue arc remained idle, sort of limp a half meter from the hilt. I managed to remove the cover without feeling the heat or flame. It made me believe that the power of the fire whip meant I had control of it, and it wasn’t something that could hurt me. But I needed to test that theory.
I figured what better place to know if I lost a finger than near water. With the little delay and a lot of trepidation, I ran my left hand through the blue arc.
When I opened my eyes, I saw I still held the dagger cover and still kept my fingers. I sheathed the dagger again, snuffling out the blue fire. It was like switching off the light in a dark room. My eyes grew accustomed to the view from the fire whip.
When I took a breath and drew the dagger from the sheath, I felt the dirk understood more about me at that moment than I recognized in myself. The fire erupted from the casing with fervor, like it needed freedom. The blue blaze flared and made me squint. I faced the blocked tunnel, twisted my wrist left to right, and the fire whip snapped across the granite and sediment. The massive boulders that covered the tube turned to molten and sliced gravel. After a few more sweeps with the strap, I cleared the opening and kicked away the debris.
With my way out cleared, I returned the dagger to its case and slipped it into my center pocket in the sweatshirt. I looked back in the dark. I had to wait a little for my eyes to pick up the violet glow from the amethysts in the cave. I saw fewer of the selkies waiting for me to leave. Many slipped back into the loch to do whatever it was selkies did in the alien loch. I saw my selkie watching me, waiting for my departure from her new home. She gave me a look that suggested we were kin because we shared something between us that no one could take away. I lifted my hand, showing her my palm. She repeated the gesture and added a little wiggle of the black nails. I smiled and did the same, wiggling my fingers at her.
I had to lay flat on my belly and crawl through the tunnel. The spill of daylight at the mouth encouraged me. I did my best not to panic and considered a bout of claustrophobia wouldn’t look cool. I had to ignore the millions of tons of mountain around me that scraped my shoulders and banged against my head when I lifted it too high.
Air blew in my face when I reached the mouth of the passage. I saw only tall grass covering the opening. I pushed at another blockage that barred me from squeezing through the end. Sedimentary sandstone and bits of granite rained on my face and head. I crawled the last of the way through the opening and groaned as I rolled in the soft grass.
I stared at the blue sky overhead. How long had I been in the new world? How far away from home was I now? I had a notion that Dad missed me and had to bear another woman in his life abandoning him. At least, he had Shelia, his new woman. I knew she loved Dad. I knew she wasn’t about to fall into a strange world, too. I thought about Mom. Somewhere, Mom had spent eight years in the same place as me. I wondered if she experienced as much as I did in my tenure. I wondered if she had a special gift bestowed on her.
“I mean, did Alastair know what it was when he gave it to me?” I asked the sky. The wispy white clouds that ran away didn’t give up their secrets. “He said it belonged to his mother.” I got the impression he felt it was an ordinary dagger, something to help me get by in the Highlands.
“Now what?” I asked. Nothing answered.
I heard the switching of something nearby in the underbrush, like something scurrying. It startled me, and I rolled and hopped up. I grabbed the dagger but left it inside the carved cover. I waited, watching the nearby bracken and brush. I saw the swish of a black tail.
“Oh, you again.” I breathed with relief. I stared at the area where I saw the Cat Sìth. But it had already scuttled away. “Thank you for this.” I lifted the dagger to the heather and creeping azalea.
There was so much I didn’t understand, and yet I felt, for the first time since I arrived, like I had something going in my favor.
“So, where to now?” I asked.
I waited. The Cat Sìth wasn’t interested in giving direction. Somehow, it knew me and where to find me, and I felt that if I learned to pay attention, I’d understand my surroundings better.
I had the mountain at my back. I saw a slim valley before me. The selkie lived in the loch, and the underground pool with the tunnel exit put me on the far side of the loch. I was well away from the bad guys. I felt terrible about Evander. Yet, something told me that if anyone else had reason to live, it was him.
I began marching through the peaty soil along the mountainside. I suspected I walked south, but I didn’t know for sure until I got a better reference with the sun. I felt there were still a few adventures ahead, and I knew with a magic dagger, at least, I had a fighting chance for survival.
Epilogue
Nicneven’s court buzzed with rousing murmurs and hushed whispers. Morgan Goodlet, summoned by the queen, understood better than most when something changed within the realm. It was Nicneven who showed Morgan that she was more than someone’s plaything. She had retained her red hair and fiery disposition, and the queen of the fairies bestowed the greatest gift to the girl over any other subject. Forever in Nicneven’s favor, Morgan learned that she had more worth and purpose in Elphame than she ever experienced in Scotland.
When the courtiers and courtesans saw Morgan appear within the throne room, they knew better than to say anything or look at Morgan in the eyes. Nicneven restored Morgan’s life, removed the bullet from her back, and lifted her higher than anyone ever tried on earth. The queen, her surrogate mother, understood the hardships of the ruling class. She had her subjects, and her people needed their queen. But Nicneven never had a daughter. To have an offspring, Nicneven needed a counterpart, and she had never found any man worthy enough of her favor or to share her bed. Nicneven’s resilience reminded Morgan of a British queen she learned about in primary school.
“Come, Morrigan,” Nicneven said. She rose from the throne, and the creature at its base, coiled beside the ancient platform and dais, stirred with the queen’s movement.
She took the name because Nicneven had said in order to be a part of her dynasty, Morgan had to let go of everything that had made her human, including the name, Morgan Goodlet. In Elphame, she was Morrigan, and she was the Black Hand of the Queen.
The queen offered Morgan a trade, her life for a place at her side. She was the queen’s messenger, her envoy, and ambassador. She was the embodiment of what Nicneven wanted for her subjects, a great warrior who had the power of death in her hands. She was Morrigan forevermore, a bringer of death to all who opposed Nicneven. It was a placement that gave Morgan a place.
They walked side by side along the corridor of rippling stone and bright amethysts. It was impossible to look upon Nicneven and not think about her everlasting beauty. She had the shape of a human female, and Morrigan felt to have all the power of the realm at her whim, why keep the form of something that the queen openly despised?
“I learned there was a breach into our lands,” Nicneven said. Her voice sounded like the whisper of Scots pine needles when the summer wind blew through them. “It is a place, you know.”
“Is it?” Morrigan asked.
“Aye, I found you there.”
“Oh, yeah, the fairy mound.”
Nicneven clicked her tongue. “Such a vulgar term,” she said. “I learn that men with weapons, tools, and machines are preparing to march.”
“What will you have me do, My Queen?” Morrigan’s faith in Nicneven never wavered. Everything good that happened to her came from the arms of the queen. If Nicneven wanted Morrigan to throw herself on flaming swords, she’d do it without question or he
sitation.
“We shall amass an army, unlike anything Elphame or the realm of man has ever experienced.”
They walked together for some distance through a part of the underground castle unfamiliar to Morrigan. Various beings occupied the darkness, and the caverns of the castle turned away from Morrigan or bowed to the queen. They passed through several chambers, all illuminated with the beautiful and calming purplish hues of the glowing amethysts. It was always enchantment and bliss when Morrigan entered the rooms of the queen.
It wasn’t a traditional castle. Nicneven was a creature of the realm. Her strength came from Elphame. Morrigan understood that without Nicneven, Elphame didn’t exist, and without Elphame, the queen withered and perished. They were linked forever and drew life as two parts of the same internal puzzle. The castle went on for kilometers. The creatures that occupied the tunnels and underground passageways were much more than part of an interlacing defense network. They were extensions of Elphame. Many of the subterranean and nocturnal beasts gave Morrigan nightmares.
They arrived at a chamber with an archway and curtains made with the web of caoineags. The creatures had a strange existence in Elphame, and most people of the lands rarely glimpsed the white forest banshees. As a child in Scotland, Morrigan had learned about many of these things through fairytales. Nothing was as it seemed in Elphame.
Nicneven waited outside the webbing curtains. She looked at Morrigan and smiled lovingly. Her stunning violet eyes made Morrigan feel loved.
“There is a human waiting for an audience. I will let you question him. We must know what men of Scotland plan in Elphame. I do not know if he will give us what we need.”
Morrigan nodded slowly and understood. Sometimes pain provided clarity.
“I believe we must consider how to handle the greed of humans. I believe it is time for us to turn the tables. For us to know what awaits us in your world, I need him to give us all the secrets he has,” Nicneven said. She turned away from Morrigan. The gossamer gown swished on the flagstones in the corridor. The queen slipped away into the lavender light.
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