by Moira Young
I say what needs sayin to them I love. To those I’ll carry always in my heart. I tell the truth, at last. All of what I did, to all of them, all together. None of it’s easy. I don’t come off well. I ask fergiveness from that bigger place within them.
Lugh’s part in this, I don’t say. I tell them he took Nero, in the hope I’d be frightened an give up. His care was only fer Emmi an me. Everythin he done was fer love of us, to keep us safe. That’s all they ever need to know.
I spend a long time with Tommo. Jest the two of us, alone. He tells me of his life before Ike. What he remembers of his years with his father. I tell him what good things I can of Seth. We talk of Lugh an Emmi. We talk of his feelins fer me. An of my deep care fer him. He tells me how he asked Creed fer advice on how to win me. By the end, he’s emptied his dark eyes of secrets. By the end, we’ve reached some kinda peace.
Then we go to the hilltop meadow where Seth lies. Tommo buried his father hisself. Jest him, with his own hands. That’s how he wanted it to be. Together we plant a young ash tree at the grave. Its roots will grow strong among his bones.
Molly seeks me out. It was Lugh that she lay with in the woods. How strange. How very strange. That them two should come together. He, who hated Jack, an she, who loves him. It started between them jest after Resurrection. Their hurt brought them together. They never spoke of Jack. It warn’t no great love match, but they cared sweetly fer each other.
I’m glad Lugh had Molly in his life. That he knew her light an her strength. She tells me of his tenderness to her. How it fell like balm upon her soul. I’m glad that she knew him to be kind an good. An I’m the first to be told her secret. She’s with child. Lugh’s child. He never knew. She never got the chance to tell him.
A tiny spark of hope lights within me.
When I’ve made my farewells an packed Hermes up, I do the one thing I’ve left until last.
I go to the twisted old oak where they lie. My golden heart, Lugh. An my Emmi. I loved her well. But too late.
The children of my mother an father. Dead an buried in the short days of the year. When the light fails early an things perish.
I’ve bin told an now I see it fer myself. Their cairns are covered with tributes. Posies of late flowers. Bunches of berries an autumn leaves. Grasses an ivies an polished stones. Beautiful things of the earth. I could wish they’d bin burnt on a pyre so their souls could rise free to the stars. But I know they’ll find their way there somehow. An it’s fittin that they be in the ground. Since they gave their lives fer this land.
I cain’t leave them here without me. We three must lie together, somehow.
I scrape a narrow pit between them. In it, I bury the Angel of Death. I lay my armour that never saw a fight. My metal-plate jerkin an armbands. An, obedient to the dream that’s haunted me so long, I put Auriel’s red shawl on top. I cover it with earth an pile stones above. Nero watches from the top of Lugh’s cairn.
Auriel’s voice comes from behind me. Her cool, clear voice, like a mountain stream. Every people need a place of visitation. Every people need a story, she says.
I git to my feet. They’ve all gathered quietly while I bin workin. Auriel. Mercy an Tracker. Molly. Ash. Creed. Slim. An Tommo. Tommo, of course.
A long time ago, says Auriel, when the land was sick an hope lay dyin there was twins born at midwinter. A girl, dark as the night. A boy, light as the day. An so it goes, she says with a smile. I can tell you, that cairn in the middle will soon rise high above the other two.
That ain’t a sight I wanna see, I says. It’s time fer me to go.
I cain’t look at their dear faces. I give Tracker a last kiss on his head. Then I go over to Hermes, sayin, No long goodbyes. We already said what needs sayin.
No fuss, we promise, says Slim. We knew you’d try to sneak off. We’re jest here to wave you on yer way.
I swing myself onto Hermes’ back. I steel myself to look at them. One long last time.
Ash is red-eyed from cryin. Gawdamnmit, Saba, she says.
Molly rests one hand on her belly where my brother’s child now grows. Creed stands next to her, a few foot away. Their bodies incline towards each other. Neether one of ’em realize.
The heartstone hangs cool around my neck. You don’t own a heartstone. You jest become its keeper fer a time. When it’s led you to yer heart’s desire, you pass it on to someone else.
I pull it over my head. Molly, I says. This is yers now.
I throw it to her. She catches an looks startled. It’s hot, she says. What does that mean?
Look beside you, I says. Then pass it on.
We raise hands in farewell. Hermes moves out. An I ride away from my life.
A league gone from Weepin Water, I take pause at the first crossroads I come to. Nero circles above.
I ain’t got no plan. No more plans.
The day’s fine an warm. The sun’s soft an kind. The wind blows strong from the south.
With the wind at yer back, you go further, faster.
I turn Hermes to the north. To the top of the map. Then I dig in my heels. An we fly.
I FIND THE RIVER ALL RIGHT. THE ONE THAT FLOWS NORTH to wide water. I follow till it opens to the sea. I stop when I run outta land. On a harsh granite cliff on a sunny afternoon with a view that rolls on to ferever.
I jest wanna see where he’s gone.
I jump down from Hermes an walk to the cliff edge.
I had no idea. I didn’t know. How the air of the sea would smell. That I would taste it, fresh an alive. That my blood would quicken at the sight of great water. How it hisses an bucks where it meets the land.
Flocks of white seabirds wheel an call. Nero replies from the landward side. I take out the looker an set it to my eyes. I jest wanna see where he’s gone.
The sun tips the water with fiery dazzle. I squint as I scan the view.
An my heart trembles in my throat. A white boat. A white sail. It’s him. It’s Jack. I never thought to see him. I was sure he’d be long gone. He’s makin slow but steady headway, west to the sunset. Two miles out from where I stand.
Jack, I whisper his name. Then I’m runnin along the cliff-tops. The sudden fire of hope speeds my feet. Jack! Jack! I cry. I’m shoutin an wavin. But on he sails. He cain’t hear me. I slow to a halt.
In sight. Outta reach. What would I of said to him anyways? Nuthin that could make much difference.
Hermes followed me. He shoves me gently with his head. My timin always did stink when it comes to him, I says.
I take the reins. We start walkin back inland. Nero soars above the rough rocky shield. All at once, he starts to caw. Then he spears on ahead an disappears from sight.
Soon a shrill clamour splits the quiet. A dark cloud appears on the horizon. Movin steady in this direction. It looks like a flock of birds. I stop an lift the looker to my eyes.
It’s a flock of birds, right enough. A vast swarm of songbirds. An, right in the middle, the biggest bird of all. Peg the Flight, in helmet an goggles. She flies with the birds in her flyin machine.
You should let ’em go. Birds need to fly.
Soon, girlie, soon. Me an them.
She did it, I says. I don’t believe it!
I leap onto Hermes an we gallop to meet them. She spots us comin an waves. When we reach her, I turn Hermes an we keep pace below. She ain’t more’n thirty foot overhead, movin above. I look up at her. Peg! I yell. Peg! Where you goin?
She cups a hand to her ear an shakes her head. She cain’t hear above the racket of the birds. A wild notion grabs hold of me.
I point to the water. I point to my chest. She shakes her head agin. She don’t git it. The water. Me. The water. Me. Then she gits it. Thumbs up. She rummages at her feet an tosses down a thin rope. It’s tied to somethin at her end.
I race on ahead. I step a ways back from the edge of the cliff. Jump down from Hermes, dump my gear an quickly strip off all his kit. His bridle an reins, the mat on his back. Good thing I know how to s
wim, I says.
I throw my arms around his neck. Thank you, I says. Iwon’t ferget you. Not ever.
Peg an her flock pass above us. Headin seaward. Nero leads the way.
I snatch my bag an bow an chase after them. The rope flies jest above the ground. I’m runnin an runnin Peg’s shoutin gonna miss it she clears the cliff edge an I’m runnin hit the edge an I
leap
fly
reach
gonna miss gonna
stretch reach reach
I grab it. I got it. The rope. The flyer jolts as my weight pulls it down. It wobbles. Dips. Falters. There’s a sudden roar as Peg slams some gear into play. The flyer steadies an we’re headin out to sea.
An I’m free. I’m flyin with the birds. Nero flaps along beside me. He caws to let me know his opinion of my madness.
No wonder you do this, I says.
I can see Jack’s sail in the distance. I shout up to Peg. She peers down at me. I motion her in his direction. We bank around slowly an head west in pursuit.
I look back at the land one last time. Hermes stands where I left him. He’s watchin us go. I wave. He waits a moment, then gallops away.
Down below, in his boat, Jack hears the racket of the birds behind him. He turns to look. He gapes as we pass overhead.
I give the rope a tug. Let Peg know I’m gittin off.
Holdin tight to my gear, I jump. The water’s cold. My boots heavy. But it turns out my skinbag makes a float. Peg leans out, looks back to check I made it. I wave. She waves back. Then her an her flock turn landward.
Jack’s dropped the sail. I kick my way to the boat. Soon I’m alongside. I look up at him.
What a coincidence, he says. Not a hint of a welcome in his voice, on his face.
No coincidence, I says. I followed the road. It brought me here.
If I pull you in, that’ll make it three to me, he says.
Save someone’s life three times, their life belongs to you. The Rule of Three.
It’s yer call, Jack, I says.
How did you find me? The heartstone? he says.
I look into his eyes. His silver moonlight eyes. The still calmwater heart of him.
I don’t need no stone to find you. I’d find you anywhere, I says.
He hesitates. Then he reaches down an hauls me aboard. While he raises the sail an gits us unnerway, I empty my boots, strip to my skivvies an wring my clothes over the side.
As I lay all my gear out to dry, Nero flutters down to the prow. He spreads his wings wide an caws.
I didn’t figger on it bein so social out here. Not to mention domestic, says Jack.
I thought you’d be long gone, I says.
So did I. Turns out boats ain’t so easy to come by, he says. I had to play a two-day dice game fer this tub. I lost all my clothes four times. If I hadn’t of cheated, I’d still be there. Bare an boatless.
Now there’s a picture, I says.
A smile lurks in his eyes. If yer after a husband, fergit it, he says. I seen what you did to the last one.
No husband, I says. Jest drive the boat, Jack.
Drive the boat, he says. Aye aye, captain.
I settle back an lift my face to the sun. The bands that bind my heart will break soon. I know that. What better place to cry a sea of tears than the sea.
Jack steers our boat on with steady hands.
He looks at me over his shoulder. You got any particular direction in mind? he says. The wind’s changeable this time of year.
We’ll go where it takes us, I says.
An we do.
Him an me.
We do.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Sophie McKenzie, Melanie Edge, Gaby Halberstam, and Julie Mackenzie—friends and companions of the road—my ever-grateful thanks.
Thank you to my excellent Dustlands editors: Helen Thomas at Scholastic Children’s Books, Karen Wojtyla at Margaret K. McElderry Books, and Marion Lloyd. Thanks to Doubleday Canada for their wonderful support and encouragement; also Gallimard Jeunesse, S. Fischer Verlag, Otava, Gyldendal Norsk, and Raben & Sjögren and all at Aitken Alexander.
Special thanks to Gillie Russell and Andrew Beacham. I’m grateful to John McLay, Gill McLay and Julia Green for giving me a push when I needed it most.
Above all, thanks to Paul Stansall. For everything. Always.