by Annie Bellet
Her kindness hurt, since Emyr knew by the feeling in his blood that it would be he who gnawed the remaining meat from that bone. He took it from her with a pained smile and left the hall with Urien following close behind.
“Watch the old woman,” he said to Urien.
The crone looked up from her bowl of broth as the two men emerged from the hall into the courtyard. Her face lit up with the same mix of determination and recognition that he’d noticed before and Emyr glared at her. He didn’t have time for any more of her strange antics. The tingling in his blood had become a clarion call to shift and the sun rode very low, dropping behind the houses.
Another huge crash sounded from the stable and Emyr saw the barred door splinter and buckle outward.
“Cy, I’m coming, stop,” Emyr cried out to his brother as he walked across the courtyard.
He wanted to run, but there were people from both cantrefi seated around, watching the chief with curious faces. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stride calmly as though he were only seeing to his dog, gripping the lamb bone like a weapon in his fist.
“Woman, no!” Urien’s cry stopped Emyr.
He turned and saw the crone had risen from her seat and was trying to get to him, her hands at her neck. Urien grabbed her around her waist and she kicked at him viciously, with more strength than Emyr would have given her credit for. Tears streamed down the old woman’s face and her eyes were full of so much pain and despair that Emyr froze, watching her in wonderment.
* * *
Áine winced with each crash as Idrys threw himself against the stable doors and she looked pointedly at Urien where the bluff man leaned against the eave support of the smithy. He sighed and, with a clear warning glare to behave herself, took off for the hall. Áine watched and debated going to open to the stable doors, but there was still a score of people talking and eating in the courtyard and the stable was just far enough off that she worried she might fall before she reached it without her branch for support.
With a sigh she sat back and waited. The sun had dropped precariously low in the sky. Emyr would come, would go to Idrys and Áine would need to be ready.
Emyr emerged from the hall a few moments later with Urien in tow.
“Watch the old woman,” he said to Urien and Áine grimaced.
It would be harder to get to them in time with that great oaf breathing down her neck. She carefully gathered her feet underneath herself, knowing she’d need to find a way to move more quickly than her old body would want. She had to be ready, had to get to the stable before the sun set, Urien be damned.
Tears burned her eyes and she took a deep breath. Tears. Áine suddenly wondered if her tears would turn to pearls while she was in this form. Could she manage to make Emyr see? Would he remember? She shuddered but let the tears well in her eyes. I must take any chance.
Idrys threw himself into the door again and this time it splintered, buckling outward. Áine started to her feet and angled toward the stable, reaching for the necklaces with both hands.
“Cy, I’m coming, stop!” Emyr cried.
Áine tried to duck Urien’s arms as he reached her, throwing her body forward toward Emyr.
“Woman, no!” Urien’s strong arms closed around her waist and she silently screamed in frustration.
He was going to ruin everything. With strength born of desperation, Áine kicked at the man and his grip loosened. I cannot be so close and fail, release me, Urien, damnit let go.
Tears of rage and despair flowed from her eyes and ran off her chin. A few hit the ground, turning to pearls and bouncing. Áine wanted to shout with triumph, praying that Emyr would notice. She had nothing to lose any more, not if she couldn’t get to the twins before the sun dropped completely out of the sky.
Emyr froze, staring at her with a haunted and pained look. He opened his mouth as though to speak but with another huge crash, Idrys broke through the stable door and rolled into the courtyard with a mournful howl.
Did he see? Áine could not tell and tore her gaze from Emyr to Idrys’s dark hound body lying in the ruins of the stable doors.
* * *
Idrys knew he would be too late to stop the wedding but still he chewed on the rope that bound him. He had to get out, to try. He could at least perhaps protect Áine, though from what he wasn’t certain. A terrible foreboding rode his heart and so he gnawed and gnawed at the coarse rope until his teeth hurt and his gums bled freely.
After what felt far too long, the rope snapped and he was loose in the stable. The few horses not out on summer pasture whickered nervously and danced in their stalls as Idrys leapt free of his own enclosure and made for the stable door. It was barred from the outside and he howled his frustration to the dark stable. The tingling in his blood warned him that it was nearly sunset and a more rational part of him told him that Emyr would come for him before dark.
Áine was out there and Idrys wasn’t about to listen to any rational side. He’d waited years for her and now he was supposed to be married to another. Every thought of future happiness lay in the memory of the strange wisewoman he’d fallen in love with. Áine had returned, as she’d promised. He would find a way to keep himself true for her.
He threw his body into the door and felt it give a little. Idrys backed up down the stable’s aisle and raced at the door, leaping high at the last second to slam his full body into the thick wood. It buckled. With a growl, he raced back down the aisle to try again.
And again. And again. Splinters dug into his fur and his shoulders protested with a deep ache. The fire in his blood grew, the need to shift becoming stronger and stronger with each passing moment.
Emyr? Where are you? Idrys thrust his body against the door again and this time felt it give more than a little.
“Cy, I’m coming, stop!” Emyr’s voice pierced the door and Idrys paused.
Then he heard Urien yell something and the sounds of a struggle in the courtyard. With a final leap, Idrys broke through the door and fell out into the courtyard, rolling hard with the impact. He scrabbled to his feet, dazed.
The prickling of his blood became a fiery roar. The change was nearly on them. Idrys twisted his head and saw Áine battling with Urien. Halfway between the hall and the stable stood Emyr, who was staring at Áine with a strange look on his face. Idrys started toward them, caught between going to this brother or going to help his love.
Áine saw Idrys’s dark body roll into the courtyard and she feared he might be seriously hurt. She kicked at Urien again but the man had gotten his grip back.
No, no, you stupid man, let me free. She screamed silently, her mouth open as she struggled.
Idrys rose and shook himself, then started toward his brother, paused, and turned toward her. The shadows had grown very long and Áine knew that time was nearly run out. She dragged the necklaces over her head, managing to keep her arms free from Urien’s grip.
Idrys hesitated. Áine had pulled something out of her ragged robe, something iridescent that reeked of otherworldly power to his keen senses. Hope and fear burned through him. Had she found a way to break the curse? He looked between her and his brother.
Emyr jerked as Idrys broke through the stable door and he too worried for a moment that his twin was seriously injured. The crowd was forgotten as he turned toward Idrys, but his brother rose and shook himself off, then started for him before hesitating and turning to the crone.
Emyr, too, turned back toward the crone as a glint caught his eye. Her tears poured down her face, some dripping to the ground. She hauled a pendant, no, two pendants from underneath her rags and they glimmered in the dying light, iridescent and strange. But there was something else, something Other and odd about the scene that Emyr could not place for a moment. The feeling of the change in his blood distracted him and he shook his head to clear it, dropping his gaze.
Áine drew a desperate breath and with a final prayer, threw the curse-breaking pendants as the sun sank below the horizon. She threw th
e one in her right hand at Emyr and the one in her left toward the advancing hound. They arced through the air in a moment that seemed to last for eternity.
“Áine?” Emyr said and lifted his head just as the necklace descended.
Twenty-eight
Emyr watched a tear fall to the ground as though the whole world had slowed. The tear touched the packed earth and stone of the courtyard and bounced away in a shining spin as a perfect pearl. A pearl just like the ones he kept hidden away in his belt.
Everything came together then in his mind. The crone’s gestures, Idrys’s strange behavior. His heart beat hollowly and he looked up at the old woman as she tossed the shining pendants into the air.
“Áine?” he said.
Oh Áine, what have I done?
The necklace slipped over his head and a terrible shivering wave washed over him, clearing his blood of the burning rush of the change. The sun dropped below the horizon and for the first time in ten years, Emyr did not turn into a hound.
Idrys saw the necklace arc toward him and realized it wouldn’t make it. He jumped, snapping his jaws to catch at the gossamer pendant. He heard Emyr cry Áine’s name just as the necklace slipped between his teeth.
The strand broke and its pieces fell to the ground, dissolving into an iridescent mist even as the sun set and the change took him. Fur and bone flowed upward to form his human shape and blood rushed in his ears even as horrible despair took hold in his heart. The curse was unbroken; he’d failed to get the necklace.
Áine watched the pendant slip over Emyr’s head and saw the full-body shiver that took him in that moment. She had a moment to feel triumph before she heard the snap of jaws as Idrys tried to catch his own pendant.
Turning her head, she watched in horror as the necklace snapped and fell to the ground, disintegrating into mist as it touched the earth. The hound’s dark eyes met her own and then he shifted, pouring upward into the shape of a man. Her own body spasmed and she cried out, surprised when sound issued from her lips.
Urien released her, falling backward onto the ground. A deep, twisting pain wrenched at Áine’s limbs as her ancient body straightened and her rags were transformed back to the shredded and bloody dress she’d been wearing in Seren’s clearing. Her limbs turned milk-pale and strong again and blood-red hair fell over her eyes. She brought familiar hands up to her face, feeling the tiny ridges of healing wounds across her own features.
Her twins had both known her before it was too late. Her body was restored and she was free.
Silence owned the courtyard as everyone stared in shock. Idrys looked down at his own naked body and then to his brother who stood as a man before him, still clothed in his wedding finery. With aching steps he walked to Emyr and the two men clasped arms, each staring into the other’s face.
“Emyr,” Idrys said softly.
“Idrys,” Emyr responded.
Too many years of pain and silence between them. They stared at one another, unable to find the words for all that each wanted to say. After a long moment, they turned as one and looked at the woman who had freed them.
“Áine.”
She stumbled toward them and they took her in their arms. Her hair was still short around her cheeks but she looked very much changed. Her torn, light blue dress was soaked with dried blood and every bit of exposed skin was covered in pink healing gashes that looked as though they’d scar. Her leaf-green eyes held shadows behind their joy and the twins wondered what this miracle had cost her.
“Idrys, Emyr. My loves. I’ve freed you and you freed me.” She smiled at them, tears streaming down her cheeks. “How did you know me, Emyr?”
“Your tears,” he answered with a laugh. “I’ve kept your pearl tears with me all this time, secret and safe. I saw you crying there in Urien’s arms and one of your tears fell and bounced and I knew it must be you, for only my dearest love had tears so strange.”
“You call me your dearest love,” Áine said softly. “But you married another.”
Before Emyr could respond, as if on cue, the wedding party emerged from the hall and the crowd around them lost their reluctance to speak. People surrounded the three, calling out questions and exclaiming.
Many of Clun Cadair’s fold recognized Idrys, and others had heard his brother call his name. Nearly everyone, both of Llynwg and of Rhufon, knew the story of the tragic rockfall and Emyr’s twin’s horrible death ten years before.
“What is this? Who is here?” Gwideon cried, his voice cutting through the babble of the amazed crowd.
Instinctively, Urien and Llew pushed through to their friend’s side, and though they too threw troubled glances at the twins, their posture made it clear they would stand firm for their chief and friend, no matter the strange circumstance. It warmed Idrys and Emyr’s hearts.
“It’s her!” A new voice said, and an old bald man crept to the edge of the circle of people. Madoc Moel pointed an accusing hand at Áine. “That Fey bitch. It’s a trick somehow, I told them before that she’s up to no good and now she’s cast some terrible fairy spell.”
“Hush you, Madoc Moel.” Hafwyn appeared, her eyes ablaze with joy and relief. Eirian followed behind her with a very confused look on her face as she stared between the twins.
“Mother,” Idrys said softly and smiled.
“Idrys. Áine.” Hafwyn smiled back and then raised her voice. “Hear me, people of Llynwg and people of Rhufon. We will have no more secrets now, no more lies. They were necessary once for peace, but now I think the truth is needed.”
“But that Fey bitch, look! She’s covered in blood. It’s a curse I tell you, turning that dog into a likeness of the chief. I saw it myself with my own damn eyes.” Madoc charged forward, waving his arms.
“Judging by her scars, I’d say there’s a fair chance that blood is hers,” Eirian said as she stepped forward to lay a hand on Emyr’s arm. “Please.” Her eyes fixed on Emyr’s face and a flush crept up her neck. “Let us go within and sort this out. I think you all have a very interesting story for us, do you not?”
Emyr nodded and bit his lip. He looked to Áine who shrugged.
“All right, everyone, into the hall.” Emyr said and turned, pushing down the emotion clogging his throat. He was chief here and his people were worried. He could find the words to talk to his brother and Áine afterward.
The people parted for the three as they walked together into the hall. Caron, having gotten over her initial shock, had taken the initiative to grab a tunic from the chief’s room for Idrys and he smiled at her warily when she handed it to him and murmured his thanks.
Áine tugged at her ragged dress as she sat awkwardly on a bench near the great hearth. Idrys, having hastily covered his naked body with a tunic, sat next to her, taking one of her hands in his. Emyr seated himself on the other side of Idrys, leaning slightly against his brother.
They waited, sharing glances between them, as the people slowly filed into the hall and settled on every available seat, some, like Urien and Llew, standing or leaning against the walls. After some long moments it was quiet and every eye in the hall was turned toward the twins and the strange woman who had appeared in their midst.
“Ten years ago,” Emyr began “My twin brother and I went hunting alone in the forests. There was a rockfall, that much is true, but neither of us died in it. We were mostly uninjured but lost our gear. Not wishing to go home empty-handed, when we spied a lovely white deer the next morning, we gave chase.”
“I gave chase, Emyr had little choice.” Idrys cut in. He ducked his head for a moment and took a deep breath. “The deer led us to the glen of a Fair One, a Lady. There we fell under her spell and were trapped. After a few days, or so it seemed to us, we escaped, but she hunted us down and commanded one of us to stay with her. Commanded that I stay. I refused, as did Emyr. For our apparent insult, the Lady cursed us. By day I would be a hound, by night Emyr would have that fate. We returned home and let it be known that I had died rather than risk ill w
ill by having it known the Brychan’s heirs were cursed.”
When Idrys’s voice turned guttural with emotion, Emyr took up the thread.
“Over three years ago, we met a wisewoman injured in a flood, Áine here. With her knowledge and wisdom she managed to figure out the curse, and today returned and somehow broke it. I think from here the story is hers to tell.” Emyr turned and looked at her. Every other set of eyes followed his and Áine flushed.
She swallowed, then nodded. “There is not much to tell. I was gifted with a dream, as wisewomen sometimes are, and traveled to see the Lady who had cursed the twins.” She hesitated and a shadow grew in her eyes. “After. . .” She took a deep breath. “After some time I convinced her to give me the means to break the curse. The Fair Folk ever love their sport, and so to make the task more difficult, she cursed me that I should appear in the guise of a mute crone and not change back until both my loves had recognized me. The curse had to be broken at sunset on the longest day of the year, today. And so we come to where we are.”
Idrys looked at Áine and squeezed her hand. She’s leaving a great deal out, isn’t she? But then again, so are Emyr and I. It seems some secrets are not for sharing, not here at least.
Hafwyn stood and raised her arms to quiet the wave of questions and comments that started to build as it became clear the story was finished. “And so the terrible shadow over us is lifted. If our actions here cannot be understood, at least accept that the curse is gone, thanks to the strength and bravery of the wisewoman, Áine.” She smiled at Áine. “She has performed a remarkable gift of healing here this eve.”
“Mother,” Idrys said and he rose. “The curse is not lifted, not wholly.”
“What? What do you mean?” Hafwyn said.
“Idrys?” Emyr looked up at his brother. “But you stand before us, both of us men.”