Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3)

by J. M. Hofer

  “Taliesin. Where am I?”

  “This place has many names, but to me, it is simply home. You seem happy here.”

  “You’ve been watching me?” Taliesin felt unnerved. How could I not have sensed her?

  “Yes,” she admitted shamelessly. “I’m glad you’re here. Come with me.” She motioned to him and began walking off. Eager to learn more about where he was, he scrambled to his feet to follow her. He was about to ask her name, when she turned around and announced, “I am Nimue. I watch over this land.”

  A guardian of the land or forest had only one name that Taliesin knew of. “You’re a druidess, then?”

  She looked at him, her brows knit. “What’s that?”

  Taliesin felt surprised she was not familiar with the title. “A woman who understands the teachings of the trees and the meaning of the movements of heavens—and the art of healing and deep magic.”

  She nodded in understanding. “Oh—then, yes. I am that, among other things.”

  What other things? “What kingdom is this? Who rules your land?”

  She looked back at him and laughed. “There are no rulers here.”

  She led him through a grove of apple trees he had not yet discovered. They were unlike any apple trees he had ever seen before. They bore apples of a silver color that shimmered slightly in the morning light, with leaves of a similar quality. He walked slower, wanting to linger, for they gave off an irresistible fragrance.

  Nimue noticed he was lagging behind and came back for him. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” He reached up to pluck one that caught his eye and then stopped, realizing he might not be welcome to do so. “May I?”

  “Please.”

  Delighted, he plucked one off a silver bough, bit into it and sighed with pleasure. Nimue smiled at him, offering her hand. He took it, and, like the fruit of the apple, her touch filled him with bliss.

  They spent the day in the orchard, walking through the trees and enjoying their splendor. The largest tree in the middle of the orchard stood quite tall, flaunting several perfect perches in her limbs. He could not resist scrambling up to sit in one. The scent of its fruit was even more intoxicating from there and left him giddy. He threw his head back and looked up through the Apple’s branches at the sky, overwhelmed. He took deep, greedy breaths of her perfume, and then sighed loudly with an open mouth. “Ahhhhhhhhh! It’s like smelling honesty! And beauty! And music! And love!” He felt dizzy, drunk on their fragrance. She looked up at him and laughed, and then climbed up to join him.

  When night began pulling its purple cloak across the sky, Nimue led him back to the Willow.

  Nimue turned to him. “You don’t remember this place?”

  Taliesin looked around and shook his head. “No.” Although it felt eerily familiar, he could not remember ever having been there before. Perhaps he had dreamed of it, or glimpsed it in the Brisingamen.

  “Would you like to remember? And to know where you have come from?”

  “Yes.” He felt the weight of her question building up within him, as if it were a river, anxious to overflow a dam and rush freely to the sea of who he truly was. This is why you’re here, his heart told him. “Yes,” he repeated with more conviction. “I want to know.”

  “Then you must ask my mistress, Arianrhod. She lives in the place where all souls come from. She has witnessed every soul’s journey within this world. She will know who gave you birth in this lifetime, and all women who gave birth to you before.”

  A thrill shot through Taliesin at the prospect. Such knowledge was beyond even the druids.

  Nimue reached over and touched his hand. “I must warn you, this type of knowledge can be maddening—and there is a chance you will not return.”

  “What do you mean? I might die?” He looked skyward, his heart pounding with nervous excitement.

  Nimue wrinkled her brow and shook her head. “There is no such thing, truly. To go to the center of the Silver Wheel is to go to the place where all things end and all things begin. In finding yourself, you may forget yourself, and therefore, in a way, not return.” She paused a moment, and then shook her head again and sighed. “I cannot explain it any better than that.”

  Taliesin understood well that nothing ever truly died, it simply returned in a new form. Perhaps Nimue was speaking of something else—something Islwyn called, “the unknowable.”

  “But if you wish it,” Nimue continued, “I shall show you the way there. You shall find my mistress in Caer Sidi. It rests at the center of the Silver Wheel, within that crown of stars.” Nimue pointed to a cluster of stars in the northern sky.

  Taliesin had gazed up at that crown of stars many times. “Yes, I know them well.”

  “As do I.” Nimue smiled. “Think well on this, and the dangers I have foretold. We must wait until the moon is full. At that time, if you still wish to go, I shall show you the way.”

  Taliesin felt a chill run down his spine.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ascent to Caer Sidi

  Taliesin had never met anyone he enjoyed being with as much as Nimue. They spent their days exploring whatever part of the island she wished to show him. It reminded him of exploring the woods around Mynyth Aur with Arhianna and Gareth when they were children. At night, they built a fire under the Willow tree and sang until the wee hours of the morning. She did not know the lyrics to any of his songs, but he had only to sing them for her once, and she remembered them the following night.

  The days leading up to the full moon felt increasingly more enchanted for him. At times, he felt so close to Nimue, he feared going to sleep. Fretful thoughts kept him awake at night. What if I wake, and she’s gone? Or I find myself back under the Ash, or the Oak, and can never find my way back? His heart ached at the thought of being separated from her. He had felt such an ache only once before, when his father told him his mother had returned to the sea and would not be living with them anymore. He had felt devastated, drowning in a sadness as deep and wide as the ocean itself. With time, he had come to understand why she left, but the heart is not the mind. Its longings cannot be tempered or swayed by reason, nor its pain healed by it.

  Now, his heart and mind were once more at odds, pulling him in separate directions—his heart toward his growing love for Nimue, and his mind toward knowing all he could about the mysteries of the world. He found himself both dreading and anticipating the fateful night looming on the horizon.

  At last, the moon waxed full. They both ignored it until it hung directly overhead, round and bright, demanding their attention. Nimue sighed and gazed at him from across the fire. “I will show you the way to Caer Sidi, if you still wish to go, but I do not want you to.”

  Taliesin’s heart leapt at her words. “You don’t?”

  She shook her head. “No, I told you, there is a chance you may not return.”

  “And you want me to return?”

  “Yes. I feel as if I might die of sorrow if you do not.”

  His heart soared at her confession. “Then I shall. I swear it to you.” He was surprised to see she was trembling. He took her hands and kissed them. “I have something I wish for you to watch over until I return, if you are willing.”

  Nimue nodded. “What?”

  He pulled the Brisingamen out of his pocket and put it in her hands.

  It flashed like fire in her palms, glowing in the night. Her eyes widened, bewildered by its beauty. “What is it?”

  “Something precious to my people. It may choose to show you things.”

  She tilted it back and forth, her eyes opening wider and wider as if they were trying to swallow the sight of it. “I will keep it safe.”

  Taliesin nodded. “Then I’m ready. Show me the way.”

  Nimue stood up and led the way along the brook, through the forest, and down to the lake’s edge. “We must swim. Do not surface until I do.” She stripped off her dress and tied a rope between them so they could not be separated. She took hi
s hand and waded into the lake. “Remember, do not surface until I do. I will tug on the rope when we are there.” She dove under the water, and Taliesin swam after her, unconcerned about surfacing, for he could stay under water longer than any of the children at Maes Gwythno or Mynyth Aur. Even longer than Arhianna.

  The lake was cold but not unbearable. Taliesin opened his eyes. The rays of the moon reached deep into the water, lighting their way. Nimue surged powerfully down into the lake, her long hair flowing behind her like a swath of silk, until she reached the mouth of an underwater cave. She disappeared within it, and he followed. Complete darkness swallowed them, except for a blue light beckoning from afar. Nimue swam toward it until the light illuminated the water around them, and then turned back to look at him, pointing to the surface.

  They emerged in a cavern. A white column of moonlight shone down from a large opening above. It illuminated a million crystals embedded in the cavern walls. The water within the cavern reflected the light, causing it to dance. He gasped at the sight, looking around in wonder. “This is beautiful! I’ve heard stories of such caves before. They say Cerridwen lived in one, and that’s where she kept the Sacred Cauldron hidden.”

  “This cave is a mysterious place. It can be reached by many different paths but none will you find on any map.” She swam to a small bank, climbed out of the water and untied the rope between them. She led him out of the cavern and back into the moonlit night. Just outside the cave stood a perfect circle of birch trees surrounding a spiraling column of silver moonlight that stretched from the heavens down to the earth.

  Nimue pointed to the pillar. “That is the way. Climb until you can climb no further, and do not look back.” She took his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Never look back. Only up.”

  The pillar seemed to go on for eternity. Fear churned in Taliesin’s gut. “Have you ever been there?”

  “We all have. Some of us many, many times. We simply do not remember her realm when we make the descent.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Forever and never. There is no time here. Now, you must decide.”

  Taliesin wanted to hold her, for she looked very sad. “I will come back. I promise.”

  She smiled at him the way a mother smiles at a young child and then walked away, leaving him to figure out how to ascend to the heavens alone.

  Taliesin shivered as he approached the column of light, wishing he had his clothes as he stepped into it. He knew nothing of where he was going. He reached into the light where it would let him. His hands grasped for ledges that could not be seen, and his feet found footholds that could only be felt. He sang to the Lady Arianrhod as he began his ascent.

  Oh, Lady of the Silver Wheel,

  whose country is the summer stars,

  who knows their names from north to south

  and reigns within their lofty bowers;

  Hand over hand he climbed, never looking down, always fixed upon his destination.

  Oh, White Star in the northern sky,

  raise me with your graceful hand,

  see me with your piercing eye,

  and guide my journey to your land.

  Over and over, he sang the incantation, until all other thoughts disappeared. Nothing existed but his breath within the rhythm of the song and the movement of his hands and feet as he climbed, higher and higher, into the heavens.

  Three days and three nights passed below him on the earth, but he did not know of them. He felt aware of nothing but his song, until, at last, his hands reached up and gripped flesh instead of light. He looked to see his hand resting upon the smallest toe of a woman, who was at least twenty times his size, gazing down upon him. The northern star he had been fixated upon for three days and nights was the central gem in her crown, shining forth from the center of her forehead.

  Trembling, he pulled himself up to stand beside her toe. From there, he looked out across the firmament. She stood at the center of a vast silver wheel, around which the divinities of the sky turned in an eternal celestial procession. Overwhelmed, he sat down at her foot and watched as the ram, the bull, the twins and the crab, the lion and virgin, the scales and the scorpion, the archer and the sea-goat, the water-bearer and, finally, the fish passed before her ever-watchful eyes. She did not speak but instead pointed to places on the wheel. He watched as beings billowed forth, taking shape within the distant stars.

  From the darkest reaches of his past, his former lives came forth, like once beloved, forgotten ancestors. From each segment of the sky they came, floating like specters toward him from all directions upon the spokes of the Silver Wheel. They entered his body, one by one, filling him with all the pain and love they had experienced in their lifetime, until he cried out in terror and slumped down beneath Arianrhod’s ankle.

  His mind fought to stay afloat upon the relentless river of memories, like a child’s paper boat in a flood. He clung to memories of his mother, of Nimue, of the twins and Islwyn and the Oak, but it was no use. They were all wrenched from him. Soon, he could no longer distinguish any of his lives or memories from the others. His mind was frantic, grasping as if it were drowning, until the current inevitably pulled it under. The more it gasped for breath, the more it filled with the water of his soul’s memories, until, finally, he surrendered. He was no longer Taliesin. He was no longer anyone.

  A merciful darkness enveloped him, and Arianrhod spoke:

  As above, so below,

  all that rises, falls,

  all that turns upon my wheel

  must answer Arawn’s call—

  all that whispers, all that grows

  all that comes to be,

  yet, all that answers Arawn’s call,

  must then return to me.

  You are a drop within the sea,

  a star, who fell to earth,

  a flame of endless light and power,

  that burns with spirit’s truth.

  The silence returned, and he slept.

  ***

  When Taliesin woke, he carried the collective memories and wisdom of hundreds of earthly lifetimes. He knew what it was to live as a woman or a man and what it was to live as a fish, a bird or an oak. He knew the honor of dying by the sword and the agony of dying by hunger. He knew what it was to father a child and how it felt to give birth to one.

  Arianrhod looked down at him. Do you remember now?

  And Taliesin remembered:

  My birthplace is the summer stars;

  I know their names from north to south.

  There is nothing I have not been,

  I know the secrets of the tomb,

  I have been the bane of Cerridwen,

  then nine moons in her womb.

  I am a stag of seven tines,

  I am a wide flood on a plain,

  I am a hawk above a cliff,

  and a shining tear of sun.

  I have been forged within the fire,

  I am a god of fiery head,

  I am a battle-waging spear,

  I am a boar, ruthless and red.

  I am a salmon in a pool,

  I am the roaring wave at sea,

  I am the crash upon the shore,

  I am a mount of poetry.

  I have been the word within the book,

  the sword within the hand,

  the string within the harp that plays

  the songs of Gods to Man.

  Taliesin knew the next place he must go, for there was a dark place in his past that begged exhuming—a mother who was unlike all mothers before her, and a father who was not of the earth. He stood beside Arianrhod and peered down upon the earth. “Show me where Cerridwen dwells. I must reconcile with her.”

  Arianrhod said nothing in response to his request. Instead, she changed into an owl, as was her customary way of visiting the world of men, and spread her vast wings. She gathered Taliesin up into her great talons and soared down from her fortress in the sky, carrying him through the moonlit night.
Spiraling down through the firmament, a creeping sense of fear began to flow through Taliesin’s blood, invading his bones, but he concentrated instead upon the approaching terrain below.

  Arianrhod soared silently over a chain of sharp mountains that encircled a vast lake, smooth as glass, lined with thousands of skulls.

  Reconciliation with Cerridwen will demand great sacrifice from you. You will be forever changed, and may forget what you discovered upon the Wheel.

  “I understand. I accept.”

  Arianrhod flew down to a black forest at the edge of the lake and gently released her grip. He lowered himself down from her talons, still naked and shivering, and stood upon what he knew was the Otherworld. He wished again he had some clothing.

  Arianrhod returned to her womanly form except for one wing, which remained that of an owl. She looked as if she were wearing a cloak of feathers draped over her left shoulder.

  She pointed into the woods. That is where you shall find her.

  She plucked a single feather from her wing and gave it to him. So that you remember.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  One Slaver for Another

  “I don’t understand!” Arhianna exclaimed in frustration, losing her temper with her husband. “You wouldn’t follow my father because you didn’t wish to leave your own land, yet, now, you wish to follow Hengist to Kent?”

  “I must do as the clan wishes, Arhianna,” Jørren said. “The Danes press us ruthlessly. They come in ever greater numbers, and the clan is weary of fighting. We’re not cowards, but we’ll soon have nothing to fight for. We hold on to our land at great peril. The attacks have left our crops destroyed and livestock depleted. We must leave now, before it’s too late.”

  It was true. The Danes raided mercilessly, bearing down from the north, destroying everything in their wake and selling any survivors into slavery.

  “Let’s go to my father, then,” she suggested, softening. “He’ll let us settle at Mynyth Aur.”

  “No.” Jørren shook his head. “We have decided. We will pledge fealty to Hengist, one of our own chieftains. He is of my own blood. Your father, though he’s Hraban’s son, is not one of us.”