by Kildare
The city looked like a painting, so much so that Cillian felt as if he were looking at a vision of Claude Monet come to life. Was any of it real or was it all an illusion, too? Every time he thought things couldn’t get much stranger, he was confronted with some new marvel or oddity to ponder.
Cillian visually traced his path back to where he had emerged from the wooded hills, now many miles away. Beyond, sunlight shimmered on snowy peaks. The chatter in his head faded until only the acceptance of his own insignificance in the face of such grandeur remained. The question of how this invisible world existed no longer seemed so daunting. How did mountains of such sheer enormity exist? How did his own body and all its complexity exist? How did existence itself exist? His whole reality was based on the acceptance of things he didn’t understand, couldn’t begin to comprehend. Not truly. What was one more?
The plain and encircling mountains were the exact same on both sides of the divide. The only difference he could spot was the city. He had strolled past miles of unseen buildings without the slightest suspicion of their presence. He had probably walked right through many of them. How was that possible? He started to work on the implications of the physics behind the parallel worlds of the humans and Tuath Dé, thought better of it, and moved on. The city presented more than enough material to puzzle over.
He still couldn’t believe that he was looking at an actual city of the Tuath Dé, creatures straight out of legends and fairy tales. He had learned of many strange beings meddling in the affairs of mankind through a life spent poring over every fragment of mythic lore he could lay his hands on—some for good and some for evil, but he found none more intriguing than the Tuath Dé. Their race most closely resembled a perfected human.
The idea of meeting an actual fairy or dwarf or elf had always been a fanciful flight from reality. Such creatures didn’t exist. Or so he had thought. That was before he had stolen a sword from a dwarf and captured a leprechaun. Not to mention the dragons.
The elation that had stricken him while walking through the woods had abated, replaced by a serenity unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He felt as if he hadn’t a care in the world, despite Aodhreal’s threats.
“Cathair an tSolais is the center of our kingdom.” Aodhreal pointed to the tower spiking the sky. “That’s Túr na Réaltaí.”
The City of Light and the Tower of Stars.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” Cillian said. “It seems like heaven.”
“Our lands are but a gray shadow of heaven.”
“How is your race here on this planet?” Cillian asked, only half-listeniong to his own question, too lost in the scenery to gather all his thoughts in the same place.
“You mean how are we here and not still on Earth?”
Cillian’s thoughts coalesced upon hearing this answer. “You’ve been to Earth?”
Aodhreal looked wistful, as if he recalled a bittersweet memory. “Many times, though it’s been ages since I was there last. Probably a good thing. I’ve heard you humans have destroyed much of its natural beauty. I’d weep to behold such blight.” Aothreal turned and descended the hillside in long strides that Cillian couldn’t match without quickening to a jog.
“We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”
A river flowed at the bottom of the hill, aflame with the sun’s yellow light. Aodhreal walked out onto the water and to Cillian’s surprise didn’t sink, but tread upon the surface as if it were solid. Cillian paused at the water’s edge. Though the surface looked like water, it was smooth as glass and ran within perfectly straight borders. Now he wondered if this was in fact a road. He took a hesitant step out onto the strange material and found it held his weight, too. After a few more hesitant steps, he felt confident enough he wouldn’t plunge through the surface that he jogged to catch up to Aodhreal, who hadn’t noticed his confusion.
What kind of material was as solid as rock but shimmered like water? More remarkable were the buildings that shone as if they were wreathed in flickering light. Only after he touched their walls did he accept they were solid. The colors all around him shifted and changed from building to building and here light shone as if through a forest canopy and there shadows flickered among lights like the gold of grain fields and another burned like the northern lights dancing among the stars. Each building seemed more remarkable than the last and all unlike anything he had ever witnessed before. He felt like a caveman who was transported to the center of the Las Vegas Strip. Since departing the doctor’s office, this was the strangest vision he had seen yet.
He wished he could stop and appreciate the astonishing sights of the City of Light. His mind simply couldn’t make sense of it all in such rapid succession. If not for Aodhreal, he would still be standing at the base of the hill trying to figure out the street.
As if reading his mind, Aodhreal said, “If I let you stop, I may never get you started again.”
The road ended at the base of the Tower of the Stars, a structure so immense it didn’t seem real. The circular base was supported by four massive supports upholding a column that tapered to a point Cillian guessed must rise seven thousand feet above the plain. Four roads passed beneath four arches and converged beneath the center of the tower. A thirty-story building could fit beneath each arch with room to spare. On closer inspection, the tower wasn’t made of ice, but a material closer to glass.
Aodhreal stopped where the four roads converged beneath the center of the tower. Above them a shaft bored up through the center of the structure. The walls of the shaft seemed to converge on a single point thousands of feet above. Whether they actually converged, he couldn’t tell. His mind was so preoccupied with trying to discern the answer that the ground had dropped fifty feet before he realized a large section of the floor was rising toward the entrance of the shaft.
“I imagine this is all quite overwhelming,” Aodhreal said with a smirk. “What do you think of our fair kingdom so far?”
Cillian realized his mouth hung open. Normally, he would have felt foolish, but he was too stunned to feel anything more than overwhelming awe. He tried to respond, stammered, and took a moment to gather his thoughts before trying again. “I don’t know. This feels more like a dream than any dream I’ve ever had before.”
“Only a handful of your race has ever been granted entrance into our kingdom. You’d be killed for the attempt without our blessing. It isn’t that we desire killing. Our law protects us from the Doom of Lú.”
“What’s the Doom of Lú?”
“That will soon be explained.”
The walls of the shaft were the shocking blue of a glacier’s heart and emanated a soft glow as if they were infused with light. Even with no other source of light, Cillian had no problem seeing Aodhreal’s features. He closed his eyes and shifted his focus to his hearing. He couldn’t discern the slightest noise by which the floor was being sent upward. It was as if they floated on air. The Tuath Dé’s technology was so much more advanced than anything he had ever seen that he understood how it could have been considered magic by ancient humans.
The calm, stable color of the tower shaft was a welcome lull from the visual overload witnessed outside. It allowed time for his senses to adjust. His thoughts collected and his mind turned toward the purpose of this elevator ride. “Where are we going?”
“To see Nuadha and Éadaoin. They’re the wisest of my people.”
IX
-------
27
The floor stopped at the top of the shaft and they stepped off into a circular chamber lit only by the glow of the walls. His mind drifted back to the cave where he had released Loki. That chamber had been lit by the multi-colored runes carved into the walls. A similar technology seemed to be at work here. The lighting system was built right into the rock-like material of the walls.
A staircase wound higher up into the tower, ending at a second chamber. Higher and higher they climbed, until Cillian began to wonder if they would ever rea
ch the top or if the staircase continued upward forever. Surprisingly, he felt no weariness from the effort, though the altitude alone should have winded him. Another oddity of this place. Was even the air different?
The staircase ended at last in a much smaller chamber than the one below and now he was truly perplexed. The ceiling appeared to float, unattached to the rest of the structure. Or so it appeared. He approached the edge to see if his eyes deceived him. Perhaps the walls were invisible. He waved his hand along the chamber’s edge and touched nothing but air. Only after circling the entire perimeter was he satisfied that the top of the building was suspended on air.
How this was possible was forgotten the moment he glanced down at the city below. The other buildings appeared as little smudges now, like the paint of many colors drippled and mingled onto a canvas. Even the mountains that had seemed so imposing from below had lost some of their magnificence. He had to be somewhere near the peak of the tower, an elevation as high as some of the lower mountain peaks. No wonder he felt as if he had been ascending the stairs for ages.
He stepped back. One look was enough. He wasn’t going anywhere near the edge again. All it would take was a single strong gust of wind to pass through and he would be reminded that he couldn’t fly.
“The pinnacle of the tower is held in place by magnets,” Aodhreal explained. “It isn’t magic.”
“Either way, it’s impressive,” Cillian said.
“Even more impressive is the sight of an American cowboy in our world,” a third voice responded. “Stranger still must be the tale that brought you here.”
Cillian turned at the sound of this unfamiliar voice. Standing behind him were a pair of male and female Tuath Dé, similar in height and build to Aodhreal, but not in features. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air—the same manner in which the Tuath Dé warriors had appeared in the mountain pass.
Cillian had never seen a more beautiful woman before. Her eyes sparkled bright as two emerald stars. Auburn hair spilled down her shoulders; her skin glowed bronze. An aura of grace seemed to surround her. Something in her smile set him at ease. Melted some of the tension.
The man maintained a sterner visage, his striking gray eyes keenly intent on Cillian. His hair was also gray, yet like Aodhreal, had an appearance of youth. His pose was rigid and commanding, and though he presented none of the woman’s warmth, Cillian felt no menace in his glance. Both wore tunics blue as a mountain sky. If any part of the Tuath Dé’s figures were less than perfectly proportional, he couldn’t detect the flaw.
“Welcome, Cillian Rysgaard,” the man said. “We’ve been expecting you, though you’re overlong in your arrival.” They both bowed. “I am Nuadha. This is Éadaoin.”
Cillian returned the bow. “An honor to meet you. I understand your laws regarding my entrance into your kingdom, so I thank you for listening to my appeal.”
Aodhreal handed Anbhás to Nuadha. Cillian noticed then that Nuadha’s right arm was artificial, some kind of shiny, metallic-looking material with all the range of motion of the real arm. He looked exactly as told in the Irish myths in which Nuada, the first king of the Tuatha Dé, fought in the great battle at Maighe Tuireadh and lost his arm in combat against the Fir Bolg warrior Sreng. The name and features were too similar to be coincidence.
Nuadha withdrew the sword from its sheath, examined the blade, and tested its weight and motion. “Anbhás—the sword that slew the dragon Kur. Dragon’s fire was its creator and dragon’s fire will be its destroyer.”
Nuadha handed Anbhás to Éadaoin. She swung the blade so rapidly its motion was a blur. She was clearly skilled with a sword. No mortal would stand a chance in a sword fight against her.
Éadaoin sheathed Anbhás and spoke for the first time. “You’re correct that you’ve taken a great risk in entering our domain.”
“The severity of my situation demands such a risk. You may be the only ones on this planet who can help me.”
“And how may we do that?”
Cillian related the events that had transpired since freeing Loki, pruning away any unnecessary parts, including his meeting with Evelyn. He couldn’t risk exposing her involvement. The longer these dreams continued, the less he trusted anyone. He had no idea what motives might compel the Tuath Dé.
The three listened to his story without expression or comment. After Cillian had finished, Nuadha broke the silence first. “So he’s already involved. As we suspected.”
“Do you think she knows, too?” Éadaoin asked.
Nuadha shrugged. They exchanged a silent message in their glances. Something important. Cillian wished he knew what it was. And who were this pair—a he and she—they spoke of? Loki and the Dread Queen? They clearly had their own secrets to hide.
“Little of your travels in this world are news to us,” Éadaoin said. “Only why you are here has been a mystery. We should’ve guessed at Loki’s involvement now that he’s escaped.”
“What do you know about the Dread Queen?” Nuadha asked.
“Not much,” Cillian said. “She was once a member of the Tuath Dé, and the people of this world hate and fear her.”
“Long before she was called the Dread Queen, her name was Úna, and she was my wife. After the War of the Angels, Yahweh decreed judgment on all the angels, for none had avoided being drawn into its calamity. His edict forever split the angels into three factions. Those who had followed Satan in his rebellion were cast into the darkness, and the rest were given the choice of living among the gods or the mortals. Those of us who chose to dwell in the mortal lands became the Tuath Dé.
“Yahweh erected a border between the mortal and immortal lands to prevent us from reasserting lordship over mankind, and as a further deterrent, gave us a warning, now called the Doom of Lú, though it wasn’t called that at the time. Any Tuath Dé who ventures into the mortal lands will themselves becomes mortal, and should a mortal be allowed into the immortal lands, if the mortal touches any Tuath Dé, they will become mortal while in the immortal’s presence. For this reason, we rarely allow humans entry into our realm.
“One of the defining differences between the angels and the Tuath Dé is that we possess a physical body, bound by many of the same limitations as your race. Whereas the angels have no sex, we do, and after taking our new forms, most of the Tuath Dé joined together in pairs, one man and one woman. Úna and I chose each other. I would’ve chosen differently had I any inclination of what she’d become.”
Nuadha glanced at Éadaoin, confusing Cillian. Was she the different choice or was he looking to her for sympathy?
Nuada resumed, “I suspect Úna’s descent into darkness was another of the seeds of mischief that Loki sowed. What began as a quest for knowledge was corrupted into a search for power for its own sake. By the time I learned of her pursuits, her power had grown dangerous. Alarmed, I brought her deeds before the ruling counsel and demanded a verdict, removing myself from the decision. After a long deliberation, the council ruled in favor of banishment, and Úna was cast out of our kingdom to fend for herself in the mortal lands. We soon learned the error of the council’s decision.
“Úna became consumed with revenge. She enslaved human children and forced them to construct Dún na Fola, a fortress from which to rule over her own kingdom. When we realized her intentions, a great army was assembled. Numerous Tuath Dé were killed in the assault on the Blood Fortress, but her defenses held. I realized the futility of our position and ordered our forces to retreat in defeat. Úna had become the most powerful force on this planet. Úna had become the Dread Queen.
“Behind the walls of the Blood Fortress, Úna used her powers to alter the ever-fire of men and beasts alike, creating abominations, neither man nor animal, but a perversion of the two. The Trolls, Anubians, and Khnumars were all created in this manner. They are hateful monsters, bred solely for war.
“The Dread Queen assembled a great army of her monsters and human slaves to assail our kingdom, destroying most of what w
e’d built on the mortal side of the divide. She thought her attacks would convince us to retreat from this world, leaving her to rule it uncontested. In this she underestimated our own resolve. As her army marched back through the mountain pass bordering this realm, they were ambushed and annihilated. The Dread Queen barely escaped from the carnage alive. We pursued her to the gates of the Blood Fortress, but her defenses saved her once again.
“Since then a stalemate has endured between our two sides. We lack the power to overthrow her defenses, and she lacks the forces to invade our lands. Though she rarely ventures out of her fortress, her armies periodically raid south of the mountains to the great sorrow of those who dwell at the feet the Shining Mountains.”
“What does the Dread Queen want with me?” Cillian asked.
“We suspect she wants to use you for ransom,” Éadaoin said, “though we don’t know for what, or for whom.” She stepped forward. “Do you mind if I examine your pendant?”
Cillian removed the necklace from around his neck and dropped it into her palm. She turned the pendant over and over, examining it from every angle, before handing it back to Cillian.
“As I suspected, this pendant is Satan’s craftsmanship. It allows you to pass through the portal stones. It isn’t a real stone, but an extremely advanced piece of technology. Your hands, like all matter, are mostly empty space, yet when you clasp them together they don’t pass through each other because of their electromagnetism. Electromagnetism is what gives objects their shape and holds them together. It’s what prevents object from disintegrating like salt dissolves in water. Without it, you couldn’t exist. When a mortal passes through a portal gate, it temporarily destroys their electromagnetic force, resulting in instant death. That pendant locks your electromagnetic force, allowing you to pass through intact. Without it your mortal body would disintegrate upon stepping through the gate.
“The pendant also allowed you to enter Loki’s prison. Without it, you would’ve opened an ordinary book in Sindri’s cave. Anbhás works by the same process, only in reverse. Wherever it touches an object, it shatters the electromagnetic bounds, allowing it to pass clean through. It’s highly advanced weaponry, not magic.”