by J. M. Hofer
The notion seemed to distract him sufficiently. “Yes, what a thought. I can do many things, but to fly like a bird upon the wind—that would be something, indeed.”
She smiled, looking up at the stars. “Or to swim beneath the sea and never need to come up for air.”
“Yes, that too,” Finbheara uttered in a soft, low tone. “Are you certain you don’t want to see…”
The music stopped. Something’s happening. Nimue looked up to see a woman with a crown of butterflies enter the hall. The breeze picked up, as if on command, gently blowing her see-through gown against her slender body. Several yards of silk danced behind her, floating up and down in a mesmerizing display. The women who had been tending the fire went to walk by her side, escorting her up the stairs to her throne.
“I think your queen has arrived,” Nimue managed to say.
“So she has.” Finbheara offered his hand. “Come, Lady Nimue. I shall take you to meet Queen Oonagh.”
Nimue picked up her basket and walked behind Finbheara to where his empty throne awaited him. There, he released her hand, climbed the stairs and took his place beside his queen. Nimue longed to look around for Taliesin but dared not move.
“Who is this?” Oonagh asked.
“Lady Nimue. She has brought us a gift. She wishes to speak to us about an important matter.”
Nimue felt grateful for the apples. The gold she possessed was nothing compared to the piles she saw on either side of the thrones.
Oonagh eyed the basket. “I adore gifts! Especially from the outside.” She gave her husband a look that Nimue did not completely understand. “Come then, Lady Nimue. Let me see what you’ve brought.”
Nimue climbed the stairs and kneeled. She held up her basket. “I offer you and your noble husband the fruit of my isle, the thing I value most precious in all the world, in the hopes that you will receive me in private. I desire to speak with you both about a matter very dear to me.”
Nimue longed to see Oonagh’s reaction but opted to keep her head down as a sign of respect. She waited until she felt both Oonagh and Finbheara take an apple from the basket and bite into them before she looked up again.
Oonagh moaned shamelessly, like a woman in the hands of a masterful lover. Finbheara seemed to take as much pleasure in watching his wife enjoy herself as he did from his own experience.
The perfume of the apples came wafting down the dais and into the crowd. A symphony of sighs rose up in response. Overwhelmed, couples began to kiss and embrace. Finbheara did not finish his apple. He stood up, went to his queen, lifted her from her throne and locked his mouth on hers. Her apple fell from her hand and bounced down the stairs. Finbheara carried her off into the trees, her gown trailing behind her like a river dancing in the moonlight.
Soon, everyone had paired up and their curious visitor was forgotten.
That worked a bit too well. She had nearly resigned herself to finding somewhere to sleep when the hum in her breast jolted as if she had been struck by lightning. She whirled around to see Taliesin’s smiling face.
“Nimue.”
A wave of emotion rose up in her, pulling her into its current. She threw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. I knew you’d come.” He pulled away and took her by the shoulders. “How is Arhianna? Is she home safe?”
Nimue answered honestly. “Perhaps. All I can tell you for certain is that she is no longer in Affalon.”
“Did she tell you what happened to us?”
“Yes.” She thought back to when Myrthin first came to the shores of Affalon. He was a young man of sixteen, halfway through his training. He had not yet been tempted to explore the power of binding magic. That dark fascination had not come until much later. Why, when, or how it had crept into his heart, she did not know. She sighed. They had been lovers then. Oh, how long ago that was. She looked up at the moon. Please, Mistress. Don’t let that happen to Taliesin. Guide him. Watch over him.”
“I must return home, Nimue. Can you help me?”
Nimue wished desperately he would take her in his arms and kiss her, but he seemed unaffected by the spirit of love-making in the air. She felt hurt. This isn’t the reunion I imagined.
She glanced down at the crane bag hanging by his side, wondering if he still possessed the feather Arianrhod had given him. She dared not ask, for she feared he might realize he did not need her help at all. If he still has it, he could leave anytime he wished. She dared not take that risk. For some reason, she sensed a distance between them. Is it because we’re not in Affalon? She did not know, but she had to win him back, whatever the cost. To do that, she needed time. “Yes, I can help you. I’ll return tomorrow.” She bent down, picked up her basket and walked away. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“Wait—“ He reached out and grabbed her arm.
She turned around, hope replacing sorrow.
“Why are you weeping?” He wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “Please, don’t cry.” He took her in his arms and held her.
She squeezed him tightly around the waist, pressing her face against his chest. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
He kissed her forehead. “Please, don’t cry.”
She released him and stepped back. Just then, a young woman approached. “Lady Nimue?” she said, her voice smooth and woody.
Nimue turned. “Yes?”
“The Lord and Lady have retired for the night. They promise you music and dancing tomorrow but tonight is for love-making. Do you wish to sleep by Master Taliesin’s side or would you prefer another companion?”
As much as Nimue desired to lay with Taliesin, she knew she risked losing Finbheara’s favor if she took a lover. “I have journeyed many miles and cannot keep my eyes from closing. Perhaps tomorrow I shall take a lover, when I can enjoy him.” She looked into Taliesin’s eyes and kissed him tenderly on the lips, lingering long enough to let him know how much she wanted him. “But tonight, I must sleep.”
“As you wish, Fair Nimue. Please, follow me.”
The girl led her into the forest and up a staircase that wound around one of the largest ash trees. She took the third of nine bridges that encircled it, moving deeper and deeper into the woods. They passed many nests holding pairs of lovers, their breath and sighs rising into the night. Lantern light flickered out from between the branches the nests were woven from, casting a latticework of warm color and shadow into the surrounding forest.
The girl stopped beneath one of the nests and pointed. “Does it please you?”
Nimue looked up. The nest was built high in the treetop, cradled between several strong boughs, with a clear view of the moon above. “Oh, yes.” She smiled. “This will do very well.”
The girl nodded and led the way up the staircase. She waited for Nimue upon a wide platform and then helped her undress. Nimue climbed inside, where a deep pile of furs and cushions awaited her. She lay down, letting them close in around her. “Ohhhhhh.”
The girl smiled down at her. She hung Nimue’s basket of apples on one of several hooks that hung over the nest and the lantern on another. “Shall I leave the lantern lit for you, my lady, or would you prefer I blow it out?”
“Blow it out, sweet girl. I shall sleep now.”
“As you wish, my lady. I bid you a good night.”
She heard the girl blow out the flame, leaving nothing but the moon’s light. She gazed up at the now full face of her mistress, smiled, and closed her eyes. All will be well.
***
Her nest was so comfortable, Nimue slept through daybreak, only mildly aware of the birds singing around her. On she slept as the sun made his journey overhead and even as he began to descend once more. She did not wake until twilight the following evening. When she sat up, the girl who had attended her the night before stood up and peered into the nest.
“Have you been there all this time, child?” Nimue asked, feeling guilty.
“I am here only
for you, my lady. It is my pleasure. My lord and lady will be happy you’ve awoken. They conceived a child last night. There is to be a feast and dancing tonight, to celebrate.” She reached down into the nest and helped Nimue climb up onto the platform. A dress hung upon one of the many branches that surrounded it. “Finbheara does not like your clothes. He chose this for you. He wishes to see you dance in it.” She helped Nimue put it on. It was the color of the sky and floated down around her as light as butterfly wings. “Does it please you?”
After struggling with the coarseness and weight of her old clothes for the past few days, Nimue could scarcely contain her joy. “Oh, yes. Yes, it pleases me well—as does the happy news of the queen’s condition.”
The girl gave a contented nod and motioned toward the hall and courtyard. “Then, let us go. They are waiting for you.”
Nimue followed the girl along the bridge back to the hall, swinging her basket of apples as she walked. She had long dreamed of watching over Affalon with Taliesin by her side, just as Finbheara ruled Knockma with Oonagh. Why not, Mistress?
The hall was again a sea of revelry, this time beneath a clear sky with a full moon. The fires had been lit, and honey mead poured from a thousand golden pitchers. If I cannot rekindle our love here, it surely cannot be rekindled at all.
The folk of Knockma began to notice she had arrived. They pointed and clapped as she walked toward the dais where Finbheara and Oonagh were seated.
Finbheara rose from his throne, beckoning toward a single open seat beside him. There were perhaps ten to twelve others at the table, including the queen. The girl escorted her to her seat, placed her apples in front of her, and then stood nearby where Nimue could see her. Finbheara looked at her and smiled. “Has Erin been taking good care of you?”
Nimue felt terrible. She had not thought to ask the girl’s name. “Yes, she has.”
Finbheara nodded with satisfaction. “Good. You belong here in Knockma with us. You look radiant—like a morning star.”
She bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Now, music!” he cried, with a fierce clap of his hands. The musicians, Taliesin leading them, broke into a tune that none could resist. Everyone stood up and formed a wide circle. As the music changed, some of the dancers moved out of the circle, starting a pattern that became more and more complex, weaving in and out. Arms went up, heads went down, and laughing dancers moved through one another as if they were threads upon a loom. The queen stood up and grabbed a handsome man from the end of the table. Thrilled to be her chosen partner, he escorted her into the dance. They were soon swept up as if they had jumped into a swift river.
Finbheara offered his hand to Nimue. “Come, you have kept me waiting long enough.”
She smiled and took his hand, feeling as if she were floating down the dais. They, too, were quickly swept up in the twisting, rotating spiral. Nimue let the current carry her, hooking arms with partner after partner, until, at last, she was reunited with Finbheara.
The music changed, and so did the dance. Finbheara lifted her up, turned with her in his arms and set her down again, just in time for another to lift her up and do the same. Her gossamer dress swirled around her body, caressing her skin as it floated up and down. For hours, they danced, until the moon shone directly overhead. Finbheara gave a signal to the musicians, who gradually slowed the tempo down until it stopped.
Nimue noticed the tables had all been laden with food while they had been dancing.
Finbheara raised his hands in the air. “Let us eat!”
Everyone took their seats and feasted on nuts, cakes, berries and honeycomb while the wine continued to flow.
The queen turned to Nimue, her face flushed from dancing. “My dear Lady Nimue…” She motioned toward the table. “Please, you must eat.”
Nimue had heard many stories about the danger of eating and drinking in the realm of the Daoine Sídhe but decided the risk of refusing their hospitality would be more terrible. “Thank you.” She ate berries until the queen seemed satisfied and then reached for a piece of honeycomb. She put it in her mouth, letting its thick, amber sweetness drip down her tongue. Erin placed a goblet of mead in front of her. “I see you like honey, my lady. I think this will please you as well.” Nimue drank and abandoned all her reservations about Fae food and drink.
After a few hours, Finbheara stood and raised his hands to speak. The hall fell silent, except for the sound of the crickets and a soft evening breeze. “My queen shall bear me another child, and I am just as happy as the day she told me she carried our first, so many hundreds of years ago. Raise your cups in honor of the new life she carries within her womb!”
Hundreds of gold goblets flashed in the firelight as they were raised above a sea of smiles and cheering.
Finbheara drained his cup, set it down, and put his hand on Nimue’s shoulder. He leaned down and said, “It was your apple that did it.” He winked.
The queen turned to Nimue once more. “Do you have children, Lady Nimue?”
Nimue felt a pang of sadness. She had never conceived a child. She had taken lovers over the years but their seed had never taken root inside her. “I think of the animals and birds who share my home as my children.”
The queen smiled. “Ah, yes. Affalon. It must surely be a paradise.” She glanced at the apples. “Never in a thousand years have I tasted anything as divine as your apples. I cannot imagine how beautiful the trees must be.”
“They are wondrous to behold, my queen.”
“Tell me what they look like.”
Nimue smiled. “I am not gifted with words, I fear, but your bard, Taliesin, has been to my home. He has walked in the grove where the apples grow and seen the streams they drink from. Bid him sing a song of Affalon, that we might all travel there together in spirit.”
Oonagh smiled. “Oh, yes—that’s a wonderful idea!” She turned to her handmaiden and sent her to fetch him. “Tell him enough dancing music, for now.”
Oonagh’s handmaiden soon returned with Taliesin. He bowed. “How can I serve my queen?”
“Dear Taliesin, sing us a song of Affalon.”
Taliesin glanced at Nimue. “Of Affalon?”
“Yes, I wish to know what it is like—the trees, the streams, the animals—everything.”
Taliesin nodded. “Then I shall endeavor to take you there.” He sat down on the stool brought for him and took up his harp. Nimue studied his face as he sang, knowing he would need to summon every memory he had of Affalon to sing it justice. He cannot sing of Affalon without remembering our love.
Taliesin did do Affalon justice. By the time he finished his song, all cheeks were wet with tears. None were as pleased as Oonagh, however. “Oh, such a voice! Such lyrics! Oh, he must never leave us like the terrible derry Rowan.” She lowered her voice so Taliesin could not hear her. “Fie upon her! Fie upon her for turning her back on his love! And with child, no less!”
Nimue dropped the honeycomb she was holding. The berries she had eaten turned in her stomach as if they had suddenly become poisonous.
Finbheara was the only one who noticed the change in her countenance. He put his hand on hers. “What is it, my beauty? What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, unable to do anything else. I was a fool to come here. He’s forsaken me.
“Ah, I see. You love Taliesin, do you? Is that why you came?” Finbheara reached into her basket and chose an apple. He sliced it open with a silver knife and handed her a piece. “Eat and forget him. All will be well. Come and dance with me.” She took his hand again, though, this time, with a heavy heart. The apple helped ease the pain, it was true, yet she knew it was a lie. She danced, but only because the circle would take her spinning past Taliesin. As she did, she reached into his crane bag and took Arianrhod’s feather. She looked up at the moon and whispered to her mistress. Within moments, a dark shadow crept across the circle of dancers, blocking out the moonlight. Startled, the folk of Knockma looked skyward. They cried out
and ran for the trees, all of them terrified by what they saw—all, except for Nimue.
Nimue stood in the center of the courtyard, her arms outstretched, tears streaming down her face. She felt her mistress’ talons grip her arms and crawled up to sit within them.
Bear me home to Affalon, Mistress. I should never have left.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Awakening
Why can’t I move? My head and arms are so heavy. All Arhianna could manage was to open her eyes. Her mother sat by her side. She wanted to smile but could scarcely move her lips. Ugh! Come on! Speak! She summoned all her strength and mumbled, “Can’t move.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’s been ten moons since you left for Eire. It will take time for your body to wake. This will help, though.” She took a tincture and rubbed it on Arhianna’s lips and gums. “It will help your blood flow again.”
Ten moons? Arhianna felt a surge of panic. Ten moons? No, no. That can’t be! She felt a tingling sensation and surrendered herself to the process.
“I know you can hear me, so I’m going to tell you what has happened while you’ve been ill—I’m certain you’re burning with questions. Taliesin has been taken to Gwythno. He still lives, but has not yet awoken. Lord Elffin, as you can imagine, is as distraught as we’ve been. Many healers and druids have tried to bring him back, but none have succeeded—not even the sisters of the isle. However, now that you’ve recovered, I’m sure he’ll take heart. When you’ve regained your speech, you can tell us how you managed to return. I’m certain that will help bring him back.” She stroked Arhianna’s hair. “Your brother is up north with Uthyr’s garrison and has earned himself the title of Master Blacksmith. Your father’s so proud of him, he never stops talking about it. He loves that Gareth has outranked Aelhaearn in that respect. Your father and Maur are seeing to the needs of the clan and getting goods ready for the summer trading voyages. I know your father wants to go, but I’ll not have it this year. Not until Gareth and the rest of the men are home.”