The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

  He thought back to the tingling on his back and the air tickling the plumage on his neck as he focused on a target down range, then the imagined sensation on his back became real. At the same time, he felt Ionga’s veins creeping into his hand and wrist. He looked down to see a stream of Fuil wrapping itself around the bow, glistening like liquid copper as it flowed into Ionga’s veins. The stream cut off after only a few seconds.

  “Well done,” said Ollamh. “You might be even brighter than your mother was.”

  Hazel said, “I wish I could see what it feels like.”

  “You will soon. Just need to keep practicing,” said Ollamh, “but first, I’d like you to try one more thing, Cameron. Ollamh pulled an arrow from his cart. It looked plain at first, but after Ollamh handed it to Cameron and he got a closer look, he could see that the shaft of the arrow had a similar, sinewy appearance to Ionga’s cured arrows. This arrow, however, was devoid of any Fuil.

  “I’d like to see if you can cure it now that you’ve felt both Ionga and it’s arrows. It won’t be perfect, but if you can get any Fuil in the arrow, it will be no small accomplishment.”

  After a needle prick and a couple of drops of blood spilt onto the Sphere, Cameron said, “Where do I start?”

  “Touch them together, then see what you feel.”

  Cameron shook his head and did as he was told. As he concentrated, he focused on the same sensations, but nothing happened. “It’s not working.”

  Ollamh said, “It helps to change.”

  Cameron closed his eyes and focused, and he felt the familiar scratchiness in his eyes and the goose bumps on his neck. Then he concentrated, and he felt the chill up his spine, he even thought he felt a rush of wind as he focused hard. He opened his eyes and saw the arrow, cured.

  “Incredible...” said Ollamh.

  “Your eyes, Cameron... they’re beautiful, and those aren’t bad either!” said Hazel pointing to the tuft of feathers on his neck. “I like this look on you!” she said with a big smile.

  Cameron felt his eyes changing back and the feathers retracting back into his neck. He examined the arrow, the veins were much thinner than Ionga’s other arrows, and they only ran a few inches past the fletching. As he set it in Ionga’s case next to the bone tipped signaling arrow, he had an idea. “Do you have any beaks back there?”

  Hazel and Ollamh were working with the Sphere. Strands of hair poked out of Hazel’s head, and she tapped her foot as she palmed the Sphere with her hand and wore a cured glove on her other hand. Nothing was happening.

  Cameron whittled away the last bit of bone from the slot he had cut into the small beak of a bird’s skull. He had tried his best to replicate the slots on the other signaling arrow. “Any luck?” asked Cameron.

  “Nah,” said Hazel, disgruntled.

  “Do you mind if I try to cure this?”

  “Not at all, that sounds much more exciting.”

  Cameron traded stools with Hazel at the cart and rested the back of his hand on the surface as he cupped the bird skull. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he touched the Sphere, then he let himself change again. He thought of the white-tailed eagle squawking at him on the range and felt an itch in his throat. The Fuil coursed over the skull, and the sensations faded. The coppery veins contrasted the pale bone.

  While Cameron was fastening the arrow head to his new shaft with twine and glue, the door to the Nest opened and Ayalon entered.

  He had bags under his eyes, and he was unshaven. He said without a greeting, “Have you been working with the shield and the comb?” Cameron could smell liquor on his breath.

  Hazel said, “Not today. Cameron’s just cured an arrow, it was...”

  Ayalon said, “There is no need to waste Fuil on lessons anymore. From now on, focus on the shield and the comb. I want you to meet with Ollamh every day to examine them until we know what they do. That will be the only topic of your sessions.” Ayalon spoke with more authority than he had upon their arrival at the village.

  Cameron chose not to object. Ayalon was right after all. Finding the Sphere should be their priority, though he wondered what else could be done to make the gifts from their mother work.

  Hazel looked shocked.

  Ayalon said, “Do you have them with you now?”

  Hazel pulled her comb out from under her shirt where it had hung on a string of leather at all times.

  Ayalon looked to Cameron expectantly.

  “I don’t have it.”

  Ayalon said, “Don’t forget it again.”

  20

  HAZEL

  Fergus ran his fingers over the engraving on the thick blade. It was longer than Crúbail with a leather wrapped hilt.

  Hazel should have brought him to the armory sooner, it would take him days to admire all the weapons at the rate he was going.

  Daniel was over by the bows, bending one of them.

  Fergus said, “It looks like it was made yesterday. Only a few of these Viking swords have ever been found, and they’re all just shabby hunks of metal now. They were cherished, family heirlooms, they say some men loved them more than their wives.” Fergus chuckled to himself. “These engravings were a sort of early trademark, usually the blacksmith’s name.”

  Hazel read the letters, VLFBERHT.

  Fergus returned the sword and picked up another similar sword, though it did not have an engraving, and the blade was a bit longer and thinner. “They inspired these knightly swords. They just kept getting bigger and bigger.” With his free hand he tried to pick up a long sword with a two handed hilt, and failed, dropping it to the stone floor with a clang.”

  One of the Laochra on guard glared at him.

  Fergus gave an apologetic wave and picked it up with both hands to return it to the rack. “Not the most practical weapons... that’s why they started getting smaller again.”

  Fergus picked up a rapier and pretended to fence with it, ending his display with a dramatic lunge.

  Hazel laughed.

  The Laochra was staring at him again.

  Fergus noticed and quickly racked the weapon. “So much history in this one room from all over Europe. Ancient empires warred on these lands, the Celts, the Romans, the Norsemen... and the Ladder was kept hidden in Talamh through it all. The influences are everywhere, Celtic especially, they’ve been on the isles the longest. It’s all over the village. The architecture, the language, even their names.”

  Daniel said, “That’s enough lecturing for today, Fergus.” He picked up a pair of batons and slung his arm around Fergus’s back. “You owe me a spar.”

  Hazel smiled as she watched Fergus and Daniel clumsily swinging their batons at each other.

  Daniel planted a strike on Fergus’s shoulder, and Fergus dropped his baton. He rubbed his shoulder. “Bollocks, this is harder than it looks.”

  Hazel got up from the stone perimeter of the ring and went over to them. She picked up Fergus’s baton and said, “Two important things Faron told me. Keep your grip firm and your feet planted when you strike, doesn’t mean stay still, but make sure to do it before you swing.”

  Fergus was looking down out Hazel’s waist. “Have you tried your sword out yet?”

  Hazel looked down and touched the hilt of Crúbail. She had been wearing it everywhere, but she had yet to swing it once. “Not yet.”

  Daniel said, “Go on, show us how it’s done.” He held out his baton.

  Hazel drew the sword carefully. She gripped it tight and rolled her wrist in a circle. Then she felt a strange sensation in her hand. Veins of Fuil were creeping over her hand and wrist. The sword felt lighter in her hand.

  Fergus and Daniel stared with wide eyes.

  She hopped lightly on her feet, then quickly planted them as she swung hard at the baton. The blade sliced through the air much faster than she thought herself capable of, as if it were eager to reach her target. It went straight through the Baton.

  “Bloody hell,” said Daniel.

  Hazel l
ooked down at her wrist and watched the Fuil retract into the hilt. She handed it to Fergus. “Give it a try, careful though.”

  Fergus took Crúbail and watched in awe as his hand and wrist was enveloped by the Fuil. He began to casually move it down through the air. The sword flew from his hand and straight into the ground, embedding itself deep into the dirt at Daniel’s feet.

  Daniel jumped back and looked up, aghast. He shook his head at Fergus.

  Hazel rested the back of her head on the warm stone as she soaked in a room-sized bath. Up above, there was only a black ceiling full of stars. It had gotten cooler by the day, and the air was crisp out that night, but the rising steam kept her face warm.

  The baths were impressive structures, each of them large and square, filled with spring water, and surrounded by stone columns. Hazel and Daniel had the entire bath to themselves. Fergus was supposed to be there, but he had yet to show up.

  Daniel was floating on his back in the middle of the bath, wearing only a pair of breeches. “You don’t think she’s stood me up, has she? I thought we were getting on well, she’s been so... physical.”

  “Don’t fret, if she doesn’t show, I’m sure she’s got a good reason.” He had been talking about Alviva non-stop since he’d met her.

  Hazel heard someone approaching with hasty steps and saw Fergus through the columns. He was fully dressed with a large book in one hand and a lantern in the other.

  Daniel said, “Oh, just you... I told you to bring a towel, not a book.”

  Fergus ignored Daniel and crouched down next to Hazel. “You’ll want to have a look at this.” He opened the book and flipped it toward her. “Don’t get it wet.”

  There was a scrap of paper on top of the parchment pages of the book, a list was handwritten on it. The handwriting seemed familiar. Hazel did not understand the words, but she could make out the name at the top of the list. Sophia Plantagenet.

  “Your mother’s name was Sophia, wasn’t it?” said Fergus.

  “Where did you find this?” she asked, exasperated.

  “In the library, it was right there between those pages.”

  “Do you know what these words mean?”

  “No, it looks like Celtic.”

  Hazel looked at the pages of the book. They were beautifully illustrated with colorful ink that glistened off the page, even in the dim light of Fergus’s lantern. The illustrations included a school of fish swimming around a whale and seals floating amongst starfish. Beautiful swirls of blue bordered the drawings. There was calligraphy amongst the images that Hazel could not understand. “What is this book?”

  He showed her the cover. The title read Athraithe na Fharraige. “It’s about Athraithe that have Cineáls from the sea, they live on Ellan Vannin, the Isle of Man. It’s a beautiful book, it’s illuminated, I’ve never seen insular art quite like it.”

  “Insular art?”

  “Aye, these drawings, some of ’em are done with silver and gold. The Celtic Christians used them after the Romans left. They helped to preserve work that would’ve otherwise been lost in the dark ages after the Viking Raids. People like pretty pictures and shiny things, even Vikings... gave ’em a reason to hold on to the books and the lessons they held.” Fergus caressed the page. “The parchment is high quality as well. Reckon it’s vellum, the finest skin you’ll… see.” Fergus was distracted by something behind Hazel.

  She turned around and saw Alviva approaching the bath wearing nothing but a small towel that left most of her exposed. Alviva dropped the towel to the ground and stepped into the bath.

  Daniel was staring at her with his mouth hanging open as she submerged herself.

  “Something wrong?” she asked innocently.

  Daniel shook his head, speechless.

  “Glad you could join us, Alviva,” Hazel said. “I actually have a question for you.” She looked down to her mother’s list and took it from the book. She waded over toward Alviva, her shift billowing out beside her in the water, and said, “Can you read Celtic?”

  Alviva shook her head. “Not very well, but I can take a look.”

  Hazel held the list out in front of her, careful not to dip it in the water.

  “I recognize a few of these, they’re Cineáls...”

  “Do you know which?”

  “I’m not certain. I think one of them is whale, another is lobster, not sure about the rest.”

  “That’s alright, thank you.”

  “Who wrote that?” Alviva asked.

  “My mother, and I’ve no idea why,” said Hazel.

  “Oh. I imagine it must have had something to do with the voyage. My father told me about it, he knew her.”

  “Really?” said Hazel eagerly.

  Alviva nodded. “She must’ve been taking notes before she left. My father said once that she was fascinated by the Athraithe on Mann, the way they lived in the open.” Alviva must have recognized Hazel’s confusion, and explained, “The Athraithe on the isle don’t live in a small community like ours. They blend in with the unchanged, the sea is their shroud.”

  “I thought all the Athraithe were unified here in Talamh?” asked Daniel.

  “They still cooperate with us, helping with trade, visiting during the seasonal festivals, though they won’t be coming to the Samhain this year. Ayalon’s worried it’ll be too dangerous.”

  “How did your father know her?” said Hazel.

  “Through Faron mostly, they were best friends growing up. They still are.”

  21

  CAMERON

  Alviva critiqued Daniel’s form as he took aim at a nearby target on the range. She stood close to him, her hands lingered as she touched him to correct his form.

  Cameron was glad he thought of acquainting them. Daniel had seen her every day since their introduction at the tavern the week prior.

  When Alviva was satisfied with Daniel’s form, he released a shot. It hit the right edge of the hay bail, sending out a puff of dust and hay. The end of the arrow stuck out of the side of the bail at a crooked angle.

  “Well, at least you’re not getting worse,” said Alviva playfully.

  Cameron smiled as he fired his own arrow at a target farther down range.

  The arrow sunk into the center of the target.

  Daniel said, “Hey, Cameron, Alviva told me about the targets that her kite drops, says you’ve gotten the hang of it. I’m curious to see.”

  “Sure,” replied Cameron.

  Alviva looked toward her red kite. He was perched on a branch.

  Cameron noticed his persistent observer, the larger white tailed eagle, circling above and said, “Hold on, Alviva.”

  She broke her focus on the bird.

  The eagle had been coming to watch him at the range, often coming close to Cameron when he was alone. He had not tried calling him since the first time he met him. “Hold on.”

  Cameron focused, and with hardly a thought, the eagle dove down toward him and landed a few feet in front of him.

  “He’s magnificent,” said Daniel.

  Cameron crouched down beside the eagle and touched the long feathers of his dark brown wing. He focused on the targets that he wanted the eagle to drop for him.

  The eagle looked to the wooden blocks hanging on the branch as he contemplated Cameron’s request. He looked back at Cameron for a moment, then flew toward the targets.

  “Have you named him?” asked Alviva.

  Cameron had not thought of him as a pet. He shook his head.

  The eagle picked up one of the blocks and made a large circle to sweep back across the range. He was moving faster than Alviva’s kite typically did when dropping the blocks.

  Cameron focused on the eagle and aimed as the block was hurled from his talons. He led the block instinctively and released the arrow. It struck the block.

  “Blimey!” Daniel looked to Alviva. “You weren’t exaggerating!”

  Cameron summoned the eagle and stroked his wing, requesting that he search for the bl
ock and the arrow. The eagle squawked at him and flapped his wings at him, then took off in the opposite direction of the block.

  “What was that about?” asked Alviva.

  “I asked him to fetch the target,” replied Cameron.

  Daniel laughed. “It’s a start.”

  Cameron went into the woods to search for the block. Just as he spotted it, he heard squawking above. He looked up and saw his eagle flying in circles, then he noticed another approaching him. They began darting toward and away each other, flipping in midair.

  “Alviva! You see that! There’s another one, they’re fighting!”

  Alviva and Daniel ran over and watched with Cameron.

  The eagles locked their talons and began cartwheeling through the air, spinning faster and faster as they plummeted to the ground.

  “They’re pairing!” shouted Alviva.

  The birds split apart before they reached the canopy, then glided their separate ways.

  Daniel said incredulously, “What? Mating? They do it in midair?”

  “No,” Alviva shook her head with a smile. “They pair for life. Those two Eagles will nest every year from now on until one of them dies, devoted to each other and their young. I’ve never seen it in person before! We’re lucky to have witnessed it,” said Alviva.

  Daniel smirked and said, “Seems like an odd wedding, eh? Not exactly romantic, is it?”

  Alviva said, “Isn’t it though? Placing complete trust in one another like that, not letting go. True love is perilous after all.”

  “Well, when you put it that way.”

  Cameron laughed at Daniel’s submission. He had a lot of experience doing the same with Alexandra when the wrong words slipped his mouth.

  They returned to the range and found Faron waiting. “Good afternoon, Cameron. I’ve been given permission by Ayalon to take you hunting.”

  “I never requested it,” replied Cameron, confused.

  Faron nodded toward Daniel.

  Daniel shrugged. “I thought it would be nice.”

  Faron said, “We won’t be allowed to stray far from the walls. We’ll be accompanied by Laochra as well.”