by J. M. Hofer
“I’m glad.” Arhianna finished the apple. “I’ve told you all I can think of. If it’s not enough to free him, can you at least help me get back to my body? That is, if I’m not dead—which I don’t think I am.”
Nimue shook her head. “No, you are not dead. That much, I can tell you. And though I wish I could help you find your body, I cannot. I have no way of knowing where it is. Take heart in this, however—you’re no longer hidden behind the veil of the Daoine Sídhe, nor suffering under Myrthin’s curse. There’s nothing stopping you from returning to your body, but only you can find it.”
Arhianna nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to leave but paused. “Can I have your word you’ll do everything you can to free Taliesin from Knockma?”
Nimue felt a bit offended but answered anyway. “Yes, you have my word.”
Arhianna smiled. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”
Nimue again felt a wave of irritation. “No. I do not do things for profit or favors. I will endeavor to free Taliesin from Knockma for my own reasons.”
Arhianna must have realized that she was upsetting her, for she gave her a quick nod, turned, and wandered off into the apple grove.
Nimue watched her walk away until she could no longer see her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Oh, Myrthin. What web are you weaving now?
***
Arhianna emerged from the apple grove to find herself in a meadow. She found a deer path that crossed through it and then sloped steeply downward on the other side. She stopped to take in the view before descending. Clouds drifted lazily across the landscape below, revealing glimpses of soft green hills surrounded by water. And this one must be the tallest of them all—I see no other peaks above the clouds. Gods, Taliesin—where am I? Will I ever get home? Will I ever see you again? She sighed, resolving to keep her spirits up. She picked her steps carefully as she moved down the slope. The path wound back and forth and ended at a sandy shore. Not wishing to go for a swim, she wandered along the water’s edge until she encountered a welcome-looking willow tree. She sat down within its shelter and closed her eyes. So, I’m not dead, but how am I to return to my body? I suppose they would have taken it back to Mynyth Aur. She shuddered, thinking of how upset her mother must have been. I’ve caused her so much grief.
Arhianna did not know much about shadow-walking but had learned enough from her mother to have some idea of how it worked. She sat and pictured her home in as much detail as she could. She chose to focus on the motherhouse, hoping she might succeed in spiriting herself there. For hours, she forced herself to focus but her mind kept wandering away like a sheep without a shepherd. Her impatience eventually won out, unraveling her efforts. Damn the gods—I can’t do this! Oh, I wish I still had your Brisingamen, mighty Freya. Perhaps it could get me home. She knew she had never been able to get it to work for her before, but, perhaps in this world, it might work. She would at least have had a tool to help her. I’ve got nothing here! She sighed in defeat, tilting her head back and staring around at the veil of the willow branches draped around her.
Taliesin showed you how to get home, Arhianna. You don’t need the Brisingamen. You can do it.
Arhianna’s heart bolted like a startled horse and took off. “Freya?” She froze, listening for an answer, but heard nothing more. He showed me how to get home? Arhianna thought back to her last encounter with Taliesin. The apple? Encouraged, she pulled the apple out of her pocket. Full of hope, she pictured the motherhouse and her mother and father standing in its doorway. When she felt ready, she took a bite. Again, the rush of pleasure she had experienced before overtook her. She kept her eyes shut, concentrating on her vision. With unwavering focus she finished the fruit and opened her eyes.
All the joy the apple had filled her with promptly drained away. I’m still here. Her eyes filled with tears and her throat choked up. Damn the gods! Why isn’t this working? Frustrated, she cried out and shot a burst of flames over the water. “Now, what, Taliesin?” She cried out. She thought of him and what had happened between them. Did he make love to me because he knew we would never see each other again? Perhaps he knew we wouldn’t. Perhaps that was goodbye, forever.
Their encounter suddenly felt like no more than a dream to her, causing her to doubt whether or not it had really happened. She leaned against the willow and wept.
***
Arhianna woke to the sound of snapping twigs. She opened her eyes and sat up to see a family of deer had come to the lake’s edge to drink. Dawn kissed the water and a faint mist rose off the lake’s surface in response. Birds began rustling in the trees, filling the fresh loamy air with their morning song. She breathed in deep, letting it all renew her.
She took off her robe and swam in the lake, encouraging herself with every stroke. Don’t give up. You can do this. You’re going home today. She had been telling herself that for three days, refusing to give up. When she felt ready to try again, she climbed out and returned to the sheltering umbrella of the willow’s branches. Good morning, Willow. Have you any advice for me? She always wished she could talk to trees the way Taliesin could. He can do so many things I wish I could—talk to trees, use the Brisingamen, sing and play the harp like no one else, stay under water for longer than even Mother can. She felt a pang of sorrow. Gods, what if I never see him again? Great Mother, Freya—please, let me see him again. Help Nimue release him from the Daoine Sídhe. She felt tears welling up but banished them. No, no, no—no more damn crying.
She leaned her head against the Willow’s trunk and looked up at the sky through the canopy. She thought back to the last time she and Taliesin had said goodbye to one another. Saying goodbye to him then had been terrible but, this time, things were different. This time, I feel like I’m losing everything.
She thought of the day he had taken her to the Ash and showed her the way to the Oak in the Sacred Grove. Then, as if she had been poked by a sharp stick, she knew what to do. She recalled Freya’s words: “Taliesin showed you how to get home, Arhianna. You don’t need the Brisingamen. You can do it.”
She smiled, stood up and put her arms around the Willow. If there’s a passage from this world back home, it will lead to the Oak. “Willow, help me find your sister, the Oak.” She squeezed the tree, pressing her cheek against its bark. “I need you. Please, help me.”
She closed her eyes, imagining the grove, thinking back to the day Taliesin had taken them there. I can do it. It works the same way. I can do it. She feared opening her eyes and finding herself still standing beneath the Willow, so she kept them closed, blocking out everything but the mantra she chanted. So intent was she on the words she spoke, she did not hear her name being called.
“Arhianna!” She felt a hand on her shoulder and whipped around, startled from her trance.
“Oh, thank the gods!” Her mother wrapped her up in an embrace, holding her close.
Arhianna looked around, expecting herself to be in the grove, but found she still stood beneath the Willow. “Oh, no—we’re still here!”
“Not for long, love.” Her mother placed her left hand on the middle of Arhianna’s chest. When she pulled her hand away, a strand of white energy clung to her palm. She connected it to a silver cord she held in her other hand. The two swirled around each other into a helix, which then tightened, sealing them together.
Arhianna smiled, relief washing over her as she felt her soul reconnect to her body.
Her mother took her hand. “Come, child. Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Regret
Nimue prepared herself to depart for Knockma. Though she had not worn them in years, she did own fine clothes. They lay forgotten in a chest along with her jewels and gold. Such things had no value in Affalon. But they will in Knockma. She pulled out a white linen dress and put it on. She scooped a few handfuls of gold coins into a leather bag with a sturdy loop, threaded an embroidered sash through the loop, and then belted her dress with it. Over this, sh
e donned a finely-spun blue wool robe. Though she felt as if she would suffocate beneath the weight of it all, she resisted the impulse to tear it off. You’ll get used to it.
She filled a basket with the apples of the Mother Tree and went down to the grotto. The boat she had sailed to Affalon in still rested inside it, forgotten with the rest of her possessions until now. She stepped in, took up the oar still lying inside it, and rowed out into the marshes.
She could not remember the last time she had left Affalon or why. Perhaps I never have. She could scarcely remember anything about the life she led before. Nothing but shadows and whispers.
The marshes led her out to the sea. The sea was kind to her. Porpoises guarded her boat from rocks, guiding her along the safest currents out into the open water. She bid the waters carry her to Eire, and they obeyed.
When night fell, Arianrhod watched over her, pulling her boat through the water on trails of moonlight. Nimue reached the rocky shores of Eire in two days. She left her boat upon the beach in the care of a rookery of seals and set out on foot for Knockma, her basket of apples on her arm.
She widened her eyes, eager to take in the new beauty of the landscape. Her heart beat faster, not only with the exertion of climbing the steep cliff to the unknown land above but with the anticipation of what awaited her there. What secrets does this land hold?
She knew all of Affalon’s secrets. She had walked every inch of it. She knew every tree, every rock and every blade of grass. She knew how every curve of the land looked at every hour of the day and night, in every season, and under sun, rain, and even snow. She was aware of every creature that shared the isle with her, and her heart never failed to leap every time a new fawn was born, a baby bird hatched, or a butterfly crawled from its cocoon and spread its wings for the first time. She knew Affalon as well as she knew her own body. But I don’t know Eire.
She reached the top of the cliff and looked out across the landscape. Fishing villages dotted the coastline. Green hills grew into mountains in the distance. No, I do not know Eire, but I do know you, Taliesin. She could feel a hum in her body that grew stronger whenever she moved in the right direction. That hum became her guiding star.
She walked all day, drinking in the smells and sights around her. She felt stronger and somehow more beautiful with every breath, as if the air of Eire were enchanted. But she knew it was not the air that was responsible for her happiness. At last, my love. At last, we’ll be together again.
***
Night fell, but Nimue would not sleep. She continued on. The hum in her breast led her to the edge of a forest and grew stronger when she entered. Though the moon was nearly full, the wood grew so thick she could no longer see what was around her. Still, she did not stop. She traveled on by virtue of her nose and ears, like the creatures of the forest did. She smelled dark black soil, moss and mushrooms, blackberries, and the damp wood of oak, ash, and hazel trees. She caught the scent of a fox from time to time and could sense the owls above her, listening for the scurry of mice below.
The moon greeted her when she reached the other side of the forest. From there, the land grew steeper. The hum led her up the slope and around to the west. She kept on, until, to her surprise, the hum weakened for the first time. I’ve passed it.
She backtracked slowly, until she found the exact point where, no matter which way she turned or stepped, the hum would weaken. I know you’re here, my love. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.
She sat down and chose an apple from her basket. She took one bite and sighed with pleasure. Though she had been eating them for hundreds of years, she never tired of them. There was no taste more divine. Its skin now broken, she set it down next to her, allowing its scent to perfume the air around her. Then, she took a handful of gold from her leather pouch. She poured the coins from one hand to the other, letting the clinking, bell-like sound ring out into the night sky.
It was not long before she heard the sound of a man’s voice. “Beautiful lady, what brings you to Knockma?”
Nimue smiled and looked up. “Ho, mighty Finbheara.”
Finbheara grinned. “I am he.”
She stood up and bowed her head. “I am Lady Nimue of Affalon. I wish to speak with you and your noble queen. I have brought gifts for you both. It is my deepest desire they shall please you.”
Finbheara’s eyes had strayed to the apples and the gold many times, but that was not the only thing they rested on. Nimue could tell he desired her, as well.
“Then, come inside, gentle Lady Nimue of Affalon. You’ve had a long journey. Eat and dance with us.”
The rocks in the hillside fell away as if the ground beneath them had given way. A strange light shone from deep within the mound.
Finbheara offered her his hand. She took it, noting his long graceful fingers, and felt a rush at his touch. She studied his face, now clearly visible for the first time by the light shining out of the hill. Such beauty she had only ever seen upon a woman, and rarely, at that. His features were fine and luminous, angled in a way that reminded her of a bird or a butterfly.
He motioned toward the basket with his other hand. “May I?”
“Yes, please. It is for you.”
“I look forward to tasting your fruit.” He looked at her in a way that gave her stomach a jolt, swept the basket up, and led her inside.
Once within the Sídhe, everything in their surroundings changed. It was far from the cave-like atmosphere she had expected. The space overhead could not possibly have been contained within the mound she had climbed. In fact, it was as if they had not entered a mountain at all. All around them trees grew, stretching up into the sky overhead, where the moon and stars still shone. Yet, there was no question they walked within a different world. The quality of the light was softer and the smell of the air more verdant. It was warmer, the breeze a perfect temperature that encouraged the shedding of clothing. Trees flanked the path they walked along. Their branches had grown together over their heads, twisting and winding in and out of one another, forming an elaborate archway. At the end of the Hall of Trees (as Finbheara called it) Nimue beheld the full scope of Knockma. The land rose up all around her, climbing toward the sky. In between the trees, perched on outcroppings of rock or nestled in the folds of the land stood pale, white structures, built mostly of pillars and platforms with wide balconies open to the air. Water flowed down the mountainside between these structures, occasionally forming pools. It then continued its journey, sometimes bubbling and dancing over rocks, sometimes plummeting as a waterfall into another pool below.
Above it all, on a high plateau, burned several bonfires. Behind them, she could make out what looked like a castle as delicate as a spider’s web.
“Caer Knockma,” Finbheara told her. “Don’t worry. It looks farther than it is.” He whistled, and a white horse looked up from where it was grazing. It came over and nuzzled Finbheara’s shoulder, quickly noticing the basket of apples in his hand. He tried stealing one. “No, no…” Finbheara backed away, holding the basket aloft.
Nimue laughed. “Oh, please. Can’t she have one?”
“Not before I do, she can’t.” He winked and lifted Nimue up onto the horse’s back, letting his hands linger on her hips a moment. He handed her the basket and climbed up behind her.
The path wound through the trees and sometimes along the water, passing by the charming houses of Knockma. Those who saw them kneeled as they went by, sometimes smiling, sometimes eyeing Nimue with curiosity.
Nimue began to hear strains of music on the air, floating down from the plateau overhead, and chills ran through her blood. “Wait until you hear Taliesin,” Finbheara boasted. “No bard, living or dead, in my world or yours, can play and sing as he does. The man is a craftsman of rapture.”
Nimue’s heart quickened at the sound of her true love’s name. “I cannot wait. I love to dance.”
“Do you?” Finbheara leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I cannot wait to see you dance. The only thing
that makes beauty more beautiful is to watch it dance. Do you know what I speak of?”
She smiled. “Of course. A bird is never more beautiful than when it soars through the sky, nor a fish than when it glides through the water.”
He reached down and patted his horse. “Nor a horse, when she runs.”
“Nor the stag, when he leaps.”
“Ah, you do understand.”
They left the path and crested the plateau. A sudden gust of wind blew Nimue’s hair free. Finbheara took it up in his hands and gently bound it up again. His warm breath on the back of her neck gave her chills.
Music and woodsmoke came floating across the plateau. The humming in Nimue’s chest became so strong she feared Finbheara would mistake it for desire. Then again, perhaps that’s good. The more I have that he wants, the better.
She realized the structure she had seen from below was an enormous circular cathedral of ash trees, with yet another hall of trees leading from the open plateau into the center of it. Finbheara dismounted, relieved her of the basket, and then helped her down. “Come, follow me.”
He led her through the living hallway through a sea of dancers, then through yet another ring of trees to the very center. There, beautiful, fine-featured revelers sat at long banquet tables formed from slabs of blue stone laid across boulders. Fires burned in four directions, each of them tended by four women. The floor was a carpet of several dozen varieties of wildflowers, all of different shades. Two thrones stood side by side in the west, across from the entrance, and next to them lay great piles of what looked to be items made of gold. In the trees were giant nests connected by a network of bridges.
Nimue gasped. “Do you have birds of that size here in Knockma?”
Finbheara laughed so hard, heads began turning. “Oh, my lady. No, no. That is where we sleep. I would be happy to show you the inside of one, if you wish.”
She ignored his proposition. “I’d prefer to see a bird of that size. Can you imagine what it would be like to ride upon a bird as we ride upon a horse? What magic it would be to see the world like that, from so far above.”