I’d only ever spent a short time there, once as a child when the vast medieval stone fortress inspired a fixation with all things knightly, and once last year, as a tourist. My trustees managed the place as a bed-and-breakfast and wedding venue that did a roaring trade and earned enough to cover its upkeep. I’d spent two weeks there during school holidays, unrecognised and under a false name, learning my own family history from the lectures and tours, savouring a deep connection with my father and enjoying a sense of belonging I’d never experienced.
So I recreated the thick stone walls of the medieval section around my deepest self, adding later Elizabethan and Georgian extensions, with their leaded-glass or sash windows, to protect my surface thoughts. The thick door to the lower levels protected what I saw as my innermost self. And I relegated the chained, bound thing that lurked in the depths of my mind to the dungeon. Perhaps now it would stay entombed and never emerge again. I reviewed the castle, pleased with the result. I opened my eyes.
Maeve watched me, her expression one of curiosity and surprise. ‘You do make very clear pictures, Rowan. Did it block out the voices? I can see it perfectly and it looks like it should be an excellent sanctum. Somewhere you’re familiar with?’
I nodded, but kept the name of it locked away, not wanting to share the key to my security with anyone. Had it worked? I listened. Nothing. Not a single intrusive thought or voice; not even a connection with the plants close by the dojo. After a moment of relief, that troubled me. Even in the short time since Logan had connected me, I’d become used to being aware of the natural world. It was an extension of self that felt perfectly normal. Now it was gone, leaving me bereft and lonelier than ever.
How did I get it back without losing the safety of the walls? Closing my eyes, I pictured the buildings again and saw the answer. Of course. How stupid. I ripped up some of the flagstone floor in the great hall, connecting myself, symbolically, to the Earth. It worked. Silver-green energy from the sianfath glowed through the floor. It seeped in through my feet; warm and cool at the same time; comforting.
‘Goodness,’ Maeve murmured, ‘how original.’
Logan, who watched from a window seat in the dojo, arms folded, silent, shifted in his seat.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘Nothing at all, my dear. You simply have a somewhat unique approach to these things.’ She smiled. ‘I foresee you’ll be teaching me as much as the reverse. Shall we begin?’
More capable of thought now the onslaught of half-heard voices had stopped, I sat up straight and agreed.
‘We have a great deal to do in quite a short time if you are to learn what’s required to protect yourself,’ Maeve said briskly. ‘However, to release your gifts, we must first remove the blocks your father constructed. It is, unfortunately, the only way to stop the headaches. I also want to teach you how to modify memories, so if you do err in your dealings with humans, you can cover your tracks.’
‘Is that what Logan did last night at the docks?’ I leaned away from her. ‘I don’t know, it seems…wrong somehow to mess with people’s heads.’
‘I know what you mean. But if you recall who I am you’ll understand.’ Maeve swept back her long hair. ‘I’ve lived this life for almost three hundred years and I know how to protect my family. I’ll “mess with people’s heads”, as you put it, to protect you and them and us, nothing more. We’re such an impossible secret to keep I’d rather not let anyone be tempted.’
She cast me a quick, narrow glance. ‘Your mother, for example. She’s being courted by her boss, who seems to be one of the most influential men in this town. If you told her, she might unburden herself to him. The information could then find its way to the wrong person. That would be a death sentence to all of us, including Anna. Please believe I know what I’m doing. The Mors Ferrum have a long reach and huge resources.’
Her sincerity was real although the drama seemed a little over the top. Isolated as we were in this little regional Australian town, it was hard to imagine my mother’s love life could be the cause of a catastrophe. On the other hand, Anna was in love. Love had a tendency to loosen anyone’s tongue, even one schooled in secret-keeping. Maeve was right. I sighed.
‘You are young and this has all come as a shock.’ Maeve patted my leg. ‘Don’t reproach yourself, you’re handling it all beautifully. Let’s begin, shall we? I want to understand what your father did. I believe he was attempting to protect you but, knowing Calain as I did, I’m not entirely certain he knew what he was doing. His own origins and upbringing were...unusual.’
‘You knew him? You know about his past?’ I gaped at her, not sure whether she spoke truth or simply dangled information as bait to keep me around.
‘A little. Suffice to say I knew him well, for a short time.’ She sent me a mischievous smile. ‘Well enough that you have a half-brother, Dante, who’s ohh…I think a hundred and fifty and lives in Italy. He’s quite a gifted Hunter, with a skill for collaborative telepathy – what we call the lorntinn – and finding sidhe abducted by the Mors Ferrum. Calain didn’t know of him, of course.’ Her smile turned pensive. ‘It’s a story for another time, my dear. Right now, we need to see what he did to your past.’
Stunned, I could only nod weakly.
I found it difficult to relax as Maeve slowly, painfully unpicked the psychic blocks placed there by my father so many years ago. Having someone play inside my mind was a disturbing, unnerving feeling. The lack of control, and a niggling concern about what else Maeve might feel inclined to tweak or might find, troubled me. I kept the door holding my deepest self – and the dungeon – firmly closed against her.
At one point, she straightened and frowned at me. ‘This would go much faster if you’d allow me to connect on a deeper level. That door you’ve created to hide your inner self also protects the strongest of Calain’s blocks. I can’t force you to open it, but trusting me a little would make this less painful for both of us.’
I said nothing, merely staring levelly at her. She sighed and resumed work.
The process left me drained and shaking, in pain and nauseated. After an hour, having removed two blocks, Maeve siphoned the pain away.
She eyed me, frowning, one hand still hovering near my head. ‘You really do have a remarkable physiology, my dear.’
‘What does that mean?’ I rubbed at my temples, weary beyond belief.
Maeve touched her own throat. ‘You’re missing a small organ we call the reollid. It wraps around the thyroid and acts as a control and regulator for the flow of energy to and from the sianfath.’
‘Is that bad?’ I stroked the base of my throat.
She tilted her head. ‘I’m not really sure. Theoretically it means you could draw, store and release much more power than normal. But it also means you could easily drain your own body completely and exhaust yourself. Possibly beyond recovery if you’re not careful. Normally our bodies automatically retain enough energy to function. You’ll have to regulate it consciously; always hold a little in reserve to keep your body alive.’
‘But how?’ Panic lodged in my throat. ‘I have no idea how to do that.’
Maeve patted my leg again. ‘It’s alright, dear. We’ll work it out, I promise. We aren’t talking about huge amounts of energy, so you’ll be fine.’
She sent me to eat and rest awhile. I did little of either, worry distracting me.
After breakfast, Jennifer taught me the rudiments of control of my shields and abilities. I felt like a fool, fumbling through exercises Jennifer had learned as a five year old. I gathered the basics of telepathy quickly, but the key to telekinesis eluded me. After an hour’s frustration, we were forced to conclude I didn’t have the gene for it. It was a bitter disappointment as, of all the skills, it seemed the most useful. Not to have it was a blow to the ego.
Working with Logan came as a relief. His cool distance and calm good sense exercised a soothing influence on my overstretched nerves and temper. We sat in the garden, learning
how to merge with the plants and understanding how they connected intimately within the greater matrix of the sianfath. In that moment, I felt most relaxed and peaceful, the most able to control myself. With the trees and with Logan I dared to open up and let the green tendrils of the sianfath do their work on my tension. Once I’d learned now to keep hold of myself, regulate the energy flow, and not stretch too thin again, it all seemed so simple and clean.
After that, we ate lunch and Maeve went to work again on the remaining blocks in my mind. At the end of that session, German, Italian, Spanish and Mandarin tripped off my tongue as though I were a native-born speaker of each. It was bizarre and my brain felt both full and lighter.
Early in the evening, as the sun blazed its way behind a glory of pink clouds to hide behind the western mountains, I sat holding my head, waiting for the pain and nausea to subside after removal of one more block. Maeve asked me a question.
‘Do you recollect anything more about your father in the days before he left?’
I stared at the floor, determined not to succumb to illness. ‘Not really. Just that he stared at me for ages and he looked sad.’ I smiled bleakly. ‘He said he hoped my stories would never be challenged, as his were. And then he told me that if they were, survival was more important than proving the stories right. I remember that.’
Maeve gasped. ‘What language did you just speak?’
‘I...I don’t know. Wasn’t it English?’ I squinted up at her.
‘No,’ she whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘It was the language of the Daoine. It hasn’t been spoken as a living language for over a thousand years. I barely understood you. It’s called Henath.’
19
This is invaluable.
There is so much we can learn from her!
Then don’t. Take down only what is necessary to stop the pain.
…
Outside the dojo, crickets began their evensong, competing with a chorus of hoarse-throated frogs singing an invitation to the inevitable evening rains. The warm, humid air barely stirred as a breeze shuffled leaves high overhead. A high-pitched squeak and the leathery flutter of wings spoke of the passage of enormous fruitbats in their nightly search for food. A car swooshed past outside, muffled in the silence of the sheltered dojo.
Sitting up, I stared at Maeve in bewilderment. ‘If the Henath hasn’t been spoken in that long, how do I know it? How do you know it? Why do telepaths need a language anyway?’
Maeve laughed, tucking long hairs behind her ears. ‘Even telepaths want to keep secrets. Language is still a part of the culture, although admittedly Henath is quite a simple verbal syntax, as it’s always nuanced by telepathy.’ She sank back onto the heels of her hands, staring up at the dark timbered ceiling. ‘As to where I acquired it? Some from my parents and some from Calain in the short time we were together. I assume he taught you. He never told me where he learned it and he would never Gift me the whole language, mind to mind. My parents both lacked the ability to do so.’
She studied me thoughtfully. ‘It is possible you and I are some of the last few who speak it at all. Will you teach Logan and Jennifer?’
I measured the suggestion against an increasing sense of indebtedness. I disliked owing anyone and if I could repay Maeve’s work in this small way, I wanted to.
‘Sure.’ I shrugged. ‘But it’ll take some time and my life isn’t exactly settled or easy at the moment.’
Maeve’s seemed both amused and little sad. ‘It will only take a moment. The whole language is there in your mind, I saw it. You can pass it on as a Gift, the same way Jennifer taught you telekinesis. It is a pity you don’t seem to have telekinesis, isn’t it? Don’t take it too hard. It does run in families. We may find you have other skills.’ She patted me lightly on the knee. ‘Gifting will be your next lesson. Go now, you’re tired and so am I. This is proving more challenging than I thought. Your father was heavy-handed. We are down to the last two, one of which is the strongest. You’ll have to let me into your innermost shield to work on that one, though.’ She stretched her elegant neck. ‘You do have other, weaker ones, but I suspect they are ones Calain taught you to put in place as a child.’
‘What for?’
She shrugged. ‘Why do any of us block things from our conscious mind? Things we don’t wish to remember, perhaps? You’ll learn, in time, to access and release them if you wish.’
‘What if they’re hiding something important?’ I asked.
‘Unlikely,’ Maeve said, her smile condescending. ‘What could a four year old know that was so important, really?’ She waved dismissively. ‘We’ll work on Calain’s last two blocks next. The second-last is masking your precognitive abilities. Once it is removed you’ll be able to control when you receive the visions, and touch people without fear. Behind the other one – the one you’ve hidden behind your inner shield and the dungeon door – lies…well, I’m not certain what it is. Another ability, as well as what appears to be all Calain’s memories of his life.’
I sat back, overwhelmed by the enormity of Maeve’s words. ‘What does that mean? What happens when it comes down?’
In the car, when Logan had found me: those flickering images of someone else’s life, they must have belonged to Calain. If his life held as much trauma as Maeve implied, would I be able to live with his memories active? Would they overwhelm me and subsume my life beneath his until I couldn’t distinguish my history from his?
And what else lay behind that block? Would taking it down release everything caged in the depths of my head?
With a shrug, Maeve arched her back and stretched. ‘Calain’s memories I can teach you to keep locked away until you’re ready to deal with them. As to your abilities, I’m not certain exactly what you’ll be able to do.’
She touched my wrist lightly. ‘But perhaps we should take a short respite before we attempt the last two. You look fatigued and even Logan is getting restive after being compelled to remain inside all day. Why don’t I go out, buy some dinner and leave you two to make use of the dojo?
She smiled benignly and rose to her feet, moving more like a thirty-eight year old than someone of two hundred and eighty. A significant look passed between Maeve and Logan as she left. What was that about?
The last golden afternoon shaft of sunlight faded away, leaving the dojo in deepening darkness and soft humidity. Logan rose from his place on the window seat and flicked a switch. Around the edge of the ceiling, a line of dim, yellow bulbs illuminated the space with an easy, indirect light. He moved around the edges of the mat, silent on bare feet.
I rose and stretched the kinks out of my back and neck, eyeing him curiously. He wore a tight-fitting black t-shirt and loose kneelength shorts. I couldn’t help but admire his lithe physique as he circled slowly around the dojo, watching me. His expression was enigmatic, his mental shields so solid it was as though he didn’t exist, belied by the fact he stood right in front of me.
Truth be told, I was relieved to be done with the mentally exhausting work with Maeve for a while. I welcomed the prospect of a good workout.
I shifted into an open, relaxed fighting stance, hands up, feet apart for balance, waiting. Logan altered his stance to mirror mine, his face still impassive. He jerked his chin and lifted an eyebrow.
‘Let’s see what you’ve got, Red. No holding back, no hiding. Just you and me and no-
one breakable to worry about.’ His teeth showed white against the olive of his skin.
I hesitated, watching him move. I’d never had a full-on session. Never met anyone who wouldn’t break when I let fly. I’d been restrained my whole life. I wasn’t sure what my true limits were. Logan, though, grew up knowing who he was and what he could do. He’d also probably had a few years more training than I had. Perhaps my only advantage lay in him not knowing what styles I’d learned. Then again, I didn’t know what he’d done either.
‘We could just stand here and watch each other, but someone has to make a move.’ He flashed out with a punch so fast it almost took me by surprise.
Some instinct made me slap it aside just in time. I continued the motion with a backfisted flick to his nose – meant to sting and cause his eyes to water, rather than injuring.
He jerked his head aside and caught my hand. Twisting it into a lock he pulled me close. Before I could retaliate or break free he pushed me away, out of reach.
‘Too slow.’ He wagged a finger. ‘Too soft, and too predictable. I can take your best. You’ve held back you whole life; trained for self-discipline and to learn human limits. You’ve trained to not hurt anyone.’ He flexed his neck, circling me smoothly. ‘And not hurting anyone will be your result if you don’t let go of the social niceties. You can be sure the Mors Ferrum will not restrain themselves. Let go now. Show me what you’ve got.’
I glared at him. ‘Really?’
His answer was to lunge for my arm. Too obvious. I relaxed my peripheral vision. His foot lashed out at my knee. I shin-blocked, stepped inside his guard and grabbed his arm. He countered the armlock, moving faster than I’d ever seen.
He hauled me up against his body, slid a hand behind my neck and planted a kiss on my mouth. Then he let go and thrust me away again. I staggered back, stunned into immobility.
‘You need more training in dealing with the unanticipated.’ His tone was sardonic. ‘We’ll have to work on that.’
Relics and Runes Anthology Page 78