Wolfking The Omnibus: Books 1-4

by Sarah Rayne

  Flynn did not speak.

  “I am still the Leader of the Great Council of the Keepers,” said Amairgen, “and as such I may expect from you obedience.” He smiled. “And that, my dear, goes uneasily with you, I think. Finn of the Fiana would not bow to the authority of another, and neither will you.” He leaned back in his chair. “We vowed to return, you and I.”

  Unless death or mutilation should prevent us … The words formed themselves on to the silence, and Flynn waited. He thought: but I cannot go back. I belong here.

  And with that thought, came another: you must go back. You promised.

  Even though I made that promise in another world, and in another life?

  Even then.

  But I did not know how it would be! cried Flynn in silent anguish. I did not know what I would find here! Surely a promise made under such circumstances —

  But a promise is a promise, said his mind sternly. You do not qualify a promise. You do not say, “I promise, but only if this does not happen or that.” You do not promise and then discover extenuating circumstances when the time comes to make the promise good. It is all or nothing.

  Amairgen said softly, “We both promised, Flynn. To return unless death or mutilation should intervene.” Not by the smallest gesture did Amairgen draw attention to his blindness, but Flynn felt it as never before; he felt the terrible weight of Amairgen’s eternal sightlessness descend about his shoulders, and he thought: after all, it might have been me the sidh took that night. It is his burden, but it is a burden that I might so easily have had to shoulder. And then — perhaps I can shoulder a little of it, thought Flynn. If I return to Tugaim and the Keepers, I am fulfilling our promise. I am making it possible for him to remain here. Where he belongs. Amairgen the Traveller, the Voyager, come to rest …

  There was something else as well. Amairgen could have no easy place in Tugaim now. He would be unable to make any contribution to the world that was the Apocalypse’s legacy to mankind and that was the Letheans’ bequest to their descendants. But perhaps I am being harsh to them, thought Flynn. Perhaps they, also, discovered extenuating circumstances.

  In Tugaim, Amairgen would be useless. Perhaps he would be a burden. An intolerable thought. Flynn could not allow it to happen. As for Portan — his mind flinched away from the memory of Portan’s life inside the Gealtacht. Certainly, whatever happened to the rest of them, Portan must stay here. At Scáthach? Yes, why not? Flynn remembered the night that Portan had talked to him, and he remembered as well that Portan had talked of dissolving the sadness and the despair that Scáthach held within its walls. Seated here, like this, he could feel that it was happening already. The patches of desolation are fading, thought Flynn, and they are being replaced by peace and tranquillity, and by a calm quiet happiness. Portan’s long-ago dream of a little community where she could work and be useful and accepted, would happen. Scáthach would become a part of Cormac’s world and of Cormac’s kingdom; Amairgen and Portan would be welcomed at Tara, they would be sought out by the men and women of the Court who liked to discuss philosophy and travel and the teachings of the great scholars of the world as they had hoped. Flynn thought that Joanna had unlocked the Enchantment of Captivity that had held Cormac, but in doing so, she had also unlocked something else. She had let the sunlight into Scáthach, so that in years to come it would no longer be known as the Fortress of Shadow, but something quite different. He thought it would happen. Amairgen would make it happen, and Portan would help him.

  And so I must go back. Because I promised, and the promise has to be all or nothing. And because I am whole and well, and he is not …

  None of it needed to be said. Yet when Amairgen touched Flynn’s hand and said, “You understand, Flynn,” Flynn bowed his head … Amairgen said softly, “You must go back through the Time Curtain, Flynn. You and Joanna. Cormac’s sorcerers will help you.”

  Because you do not qualify a promise. And after all, thought Flynn, perhaps I owe it to the Keepers as well. And he remembered the silent watchers on Tara’s Hill, cloaked and faceless, and yet genuinely friendly — a brotherhood — curiously comforting. He remembered, as well, how those unknown men had guarded the Secret of the Time Curtain for several centuries, quietly and staunchly, never once attempting to break the vow, never once attempting to go back into the Deep Past. Yes, for sure he owed it to the Keepers to return.

  As if a decision had been reached, Amairgen said, “Yes, you must return to the Keepers, Flynn,” and as he spoke, Flynn felt the quality of his voice change. In the flickering light, Amairgen lifted the hand that still wore the ornate ring, the Leader’s symbol of office, and Flynn saw it catch the light.

  Amairgen said, “You remember this also, Flynn? That the office of Leader is a hereditary one?”

  “Yes.”

  The cool heavy gold of the ring brushed Flynn’s hand, and as it did so, something as yet unidentified and certainly unidentifiable stirred deep within him.

  “I have no son,” said Amairgen, and Flynn felt panic disturb the surface of his mind. He thought: No. Oh no! I don’t want this!

  Or do I? He remembered again the other-world feeling of Tara’s Hill, and he remembered the faint elusive music that haunted the place. Had he not foreseen this when he stood on the Hill that night? When he made that vow to go through the Time Curtain to find Joanna and then return? And with the vow had there not been something else?

  And you no more qualified a vow than you did a promise.

  Amairgen’s fingers closed about his wrist, and Flynn felt the steady flow of the other man’s thoughts. For a breath-space, panic welled up in him again, and then beneath it came something much deeper and stronger. Acceptance of an old old authority? Yes, perhaps. He heard again the out-of-hearing music and he saw again the out-of-sight shapes. The sidh guarding the Gateway to the Deep Past? Probably. So after all this Ireland is not so very far away from that other one. And with that thought came another:

  Imagine being a part of a Secret so immense, so magical that only a few people in the course of the entire world will ever know of it. And imagine, as well, being a Guardian of that Secret, knowing the Secret from within.

  Wouldn’t that be the most exhilarating experience of all? said his mind, and despite himself, Flynn felt a thrill of anticipation.

  When Amairgen said again, “I have no son,” Flynn felt excitement well up inside him.

  Hereditary Leader of the Council of Keepers … Guiding the Brotherhood, ruling them, safeguarding the Secret from the rest of the world. All that, knowing more than any of them the great truth of the Time Curtain. And in time handing on the ancient symbolic gold ring to his own son …

  His son and Joanna’s … Flynn would welcome the child that Joanna would bear, and he would love it for her sake and for the memory of Cormac as well. But there would be other children, and delight opened up within him at the thought.

  When Amairgen said, “Well? Will you do it, Flynn? Return with Joanna and lead in my stead?” Flynn bowed his head again, and this time there was genuine submission in the gesture.

  In the silence that followed, he felt Amairgen’s hand close about his.

  *

  So after all, there was to be no reneging on the promise he had made. After all they would return, himself and Joanna.

  And the child with them.

  Flynn examined the idea of the child, Cormac’s child, born out of strong magic and Cormac’s enchantment.

  “He wanted me with him,” said Joanna. “He needed me to release him from Scáthach.”

  Open locks, to the Human’s hand …

  “I was fascinated and bewitched,” said Joanna, and then, in answer to the question Flynn would not have asked, “And a part of me did love him, Flynn. But it was the part that was once Dierdriu, I think.” She regarded him steadily. “There will always be the memory,” she said. “But you do not need to mind about it.”

  For I was always yours, my love …

  “You knew that I
was,” said Joanna, and grinned, and said, “As much as you were mine, even on that night inside Tara with Mab.”

  Flynn grinned back at her, and thought: yes, she understands, just as I do. And remembered that he, also, had been a little bewitched, and a little fascinated, and that he, in his turn, would always have the memory of a wild unprincipled lady who was not quite human, and who loved well, if not always wisely. Aloud, he said thoughtfully, “I do not think she will be in exile forever that one.”

  “Cormac will not let her be forever in exile,” said Joanna.

  “Because he once loved her?” said Flynn, who thought he could understand Cormac in this.

  Joanna said, “No. Because he does not love her any more.”

  “Of course,” Flynn said and remembered that Cormac would be left with nothing at all of Joanna, that the child would be going with them. He thought he could easily accept the idea of Cormac’s son, and he thought that Cormac would always be a little with them.

  But for Cormac it would not be so easy.

  *

  They were together a great deal, Joanna and Cormac, in the weeks and then the months that followed, for the sorcerers consulted by Cormac and by Amairgen had been wary of allowing Joanna to journey back through the Time Curtain before her child was born.

  “Not meet,” they said. “For the unborn soul to journey in such a way would be unwise.”

  “Downright dangerous,” said one of them firmly. “Her Majesty should remain here until after the birth, Sire.”

  It was a curious restless time; “Although,” Joanna was to say afterwards, “it was a peaceful time as well. A healing time after the battles and the dangers.”

  Flynn hunted and fished and rode with Conaire and the others, and talked long and deep into the nights with Amairgen and Portan. “Acquiring a little of their wisdom,” he said. “A very little.”

  They all attended the wedding ceremonies of Etain and Cait Fian at Gallan — “So beautiful,” said Joanna, gazing around her. “I should have been sorry to miss this. And it is one more memory to take back.”

  The wedding was splendid, and the feasting went on for days. “Of course it did,” said Conaire.

  “It was very lavish,” said Oscar, and, “I have to say,” added Conaire, “that Sean excelled himself over the entertainments.”

  “He prepared for them long enough,” said Midir, which seemed to be voicing the thoughts of them all.

  But in the main, they were alone together, Joanna and Cormac, walking in the forests that surrounded Tara, and over the hills and through the meadows. “Talk to me,” said Cormac. “Enough to last me for a lifetime. Leave me as much as you can, Joanna. Make me know you so well that I shall never forget you. Let me store you in my mind, so that when you are back in your own world, I can unravel the memories and spread them at my feet. I shall never see you again in this life, Joanna.” He grasped her hands. “Give me memories,” cried Cormac, his eyes hard and slanting and golden, and Joanna could feel that he was being wrenched apart with longing.

  Cormac had closed his mind to her, for it was not to be thought of that she should see his agony. But he knew that she did see it, and he knew that she shared in it.

  He wanted to say, “Leave me something, Joanna. I shall bear losing you if I can have something of you to remember. I shall never see you again in this life, my dear sweet brave girl, but I shall bear it because I must.”

  Joanna was crying. She reached up to take his face between her hands. “Cormac, you will have other women.”

  Oh yes, my dear, and often … A smile lifted his lips, and Joanna managed a smile in return. The moment lengthened, and Cormac thought: if I asked her now, truly asked her, would she stay with me?

  He drew in breath to speak, and then Joanna gasped and bent over.

  *

  Afterwards, she was to think that it was entirely natural and somehow very right that the birth should happen there, only the two of them amongst the ancient trees.

  She had staggered and almost fallen with that first tearing-apart pain, and Cormac had supported her as far as the grassy bank beneath a huge oak tree. She thought she had gasped out a plea for help; she certainly had expected him to go running towards the Palace to summon some of the women.

  “But there was no time,” she said later. “And Cormac was all the help I needed.”

  There had been a tremendous feeling of excitement and anticipation all about them. “As if,” Joanna said later, “the trees knew that something momentous was about to happen and as if they were helping me.”

  She had felt, as never before, Cormac’s strength, and there had been a great serenity from the listening trees; “And that was all I needed.”

  Cormac’s thoughts had surrounded her then: be calm. There is no pain. This is as it was meant to be, my dear. And I am here with you.

  Cormac’s child, born within sight of Tara, born beneath the ancient trees that Joanna alone had woken from their long sleep …

  The birthpain had suddenly become something to be beaten, something to thrust back into the shadows so that it should not interfere with the excitement and the anticipation of the moment.

  “And I was tremendously excited,” said Joanna.

  She remembered that the survivors of Devastation had given birth almost like this, amidst smoking ruins, in tunnels and caves, and she had drawn great comfort from the knowledge.

  “And the trees were there,” she said again. “Weren’t they?”

  “Yes,” said Cormac. “For you had woken them. Do you think they would not have helped you?”

  There had been the warm woodsy scents of the forest and there had been the softness of the pine needles at her back like a carpet, and the pain had been easy to bear. Sunlight had filtered in through the branches above them, and at last Joanna felt a final wrenching, as if her body was being torn apart, and there had been the warm living breathing child between her thighs. And then there had been the pain again, sharper this time, deeper, and Cormac’s hands closed about her, and then Cormac had said in an odd, unfamiliar voice: “Twins!” and Joanna heard the mingled cries of two babies.

  Twins. A boy and a girl.

  *

  Flynn stood at the very centre of the light that was pouring into the Sun Chamber.

  "Dawn,” said Amairgen. “The rebirth. The renewal. A traditional time for new beginnings. And the time of day when the Leadership has always been handed on.” He smiled. “I cannot give you the full ceremony, Flynn, since for that we need the full Council. But we will do our best.”

  “The trappings don’t matter,” said Flynn.

  But the trappings were there all the same. They were in the watchful faces of the courtiers, all of whom had gathered to witness the ceremony. “And it was not,” said Sean afterwards, busy with an entirely new ballad, “it was not just vulgar curiosity.”

  “I was curious,” said Midir. “I don’t mind who knows it.”

  “It was extremely interesting,” said Oscar.

  As the sun rose slowly over the horizon, the clear new light began to spill into the Sun Chamber, so that prisms of colour danced off the walls and irradiated the great Throne of Niall of the Nine Hostages. Several of the watchers saw Amairgen turn his face to feel the warmth of the new day, and watchers saw Amairgen turn his face to feel the warmth of the new day, and Sean, who would not have admitted to being the smallest bit sentimental, even under threat of extreme torture, had to wipe away a tear. “Nor,” said Conaire, “was he the only one. Amairgen could feel the light but we all of us knew he would never see it again. A terrible thing for him to bear.”

  “But his loss will be Tara’s gain,” Oscar had said quietly, for already Amairgen was becoming known and revered.

  Joanna stood with the others, fascinated and intrigued. “For,” she said sadly, “this is perhaps the last time we shall all be together in this way. This is the beginning of our return to Tugaim.”

  “Shall you mind so much?” Conaire aske
d.

  “Yes,” said Joanna softly, “yes I shall mind.”

  Cormac stood a little apart from them, watching the ceremony, his face unreadable. Joanna thought that he was already distancing himself from them, and felt again the ache of loss. The twins lay nearby, with Portan at their side. They were warmly wrapped and lightly covered, and Joanna glanced at them. Was it only imagination that made her think that the girl — dark-haired and pointed-faced — was fascinated by the patterns of the light? And was it only imagination to think that the boy — golden-eyed and patrician-featured — was more interested in the ceremony and the people?

  Ridiculous of course, for they were only a few weeks old, but — “Remember that they are not wholly Human,” Oscar had said to her. “There will be differences.” Joanna thought that already she could see those differences.

  Flynn was still at the exact centre of the dawnlight, he was becoming bathed in the pure colour, and as they waited, the sun came wholly into sight, a great glistening globe of fire and light and life. Delight burst in Joanna’s heart and she saw Flynn turn slowly and reach out both his hands to Amairgen. Amairgen moved forward and Flynn took the other man’s hands in his. Something flashed between them, and those of the Court who possessed the Samhailt saw with deep contentment the slender white light.

  Amairgen said very clearly, “Flynn O’Connor. Son of Michael, son of Liam, son of Patrick, son of Seamus, son of Donal, the First Keeper of the O’Connors. To you, by right of my Ancient Office and by right of the powers vested in me by my own ancestor, I vouchsafe the Ring of the Leader of the Council. You will sit at its head, and to you the Brotherhood of the Keepers will swear allegiance. To you falls the weight and honour of guarding the Secret of the Glowing Lands. Do you accept this?”

  Flynn said in a low voice, “I accept it.”

  “And will you promise to keep the Secret from the world at all costs?”

  “I promise it.”

  “Will you promise, also, never to use the knowledge of the Secret for your own purposes, and will you promise never to travel again beyond the Time Curtain into the Deep Past, unless it should be to rescue another?”