The Darkness of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  Mara examined her closely. Annora was such a pretty young girl, but she could see that Annora didn’t have the same striking eyes as Malcolm and Corbin. And Mara didn’t get the same feeling around Annora that she got when she had been near Corbin, Malcolm, or Rowan. “What do you mean by descendant?” Mara asked.

  Annora smiled. “I think I should leave the questions for Rowan. He has a way of explaining things so that they don’t seem so overwhelming.” She stood up and moved towards the door. “Come, let’s get you into a bath and dressed.”

  Mara waited until Annora’s back was turned, and slid her dagger between the mattress and the bed. Then she followed Annora from the little room down a long hallway lined with doors every few feet.

  “This is the chamber hall,” Annora said. “Corbin’s room is at the top, Malcolm’s is at the end, and this is mine.” She pointed as they passed a door. They walked another few doors down to a room with a large iron tub, lined with a linen sheet, and filled with steaming hot water. When Annora left her, Mara removed her under tunic and slid into the tub, almost becoming lost in the blissful heat. Annora swayed back into the room with a copper pot in her hand. “No need to be shy,” she giggled when Mara shrunk into the tub. “I brought you some rose oil for your hair.” She removed the lid and handed it to Mara as the aroma of hundreds of roses surrounded her.

  When the water was tepid, Mara wrapped herself in clean linen and walked back to her chamber. She picked up the red dress Annora had laid out and stepped into it. Then she pulled the dagger from under the mattress and hid it beneath the sash.

  The tray of food on her bed was still untouched, and she began to eat when Annora returned. She stopped with a jolt and her jaw fell as she looked at Mara. “You look stunning,” she said. “Come, Rowan is waiting for you.”

  Mara suddenly felt panicked, unsure if she was ready to hear whatever Rowan had to say.

  Annora put a hand on Mara’s arm. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

  Mara nodded quickly and followed Annora down the corridor to the great hall she’d come through the night before. Stepping left down a dim passage, they walked through a large doorway that led to a vast rectangular room. There was a large opening in the ceiling that let in sunlight, and in the center of the room stood a long oak table with six high-backed chairs running the length of each side and one placed at either end. Mara looked around, wondering how such a structure could exist. It was as though the rock had been shaped instead of built.

  At the head of the table sat Rowan with a small child on his lap. The little girl had a full head of chestnut curls and a round cherub face. Malcolm and Corbin sat on opposite sides of the table dressed in dark woolen tunics. The room went quiet as soon as they saw Mara and Annora standing in the doorway.

  Mara shifted uncomfortably as they looked at her in the lavish red dress. After an eternity of torturous silence, Rowan broke his captivated gaze, pushed back his chair and stood up. Mara couldn’t deny that he looked like her mother, though to her it seemed they would have been at least a decade apart in age. He smiled and approached her with a welcoming air. “Mara, I trust you are feeling rested?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

  “Yes, thank you,” she responded.

  Rowan looked to Annora. “I appreciate you looking after Mara this morning. Would you please take Isa with you down to the kitchen?”

  The little girl with the bouncing curls jumped down from her chair and ran up to Mara. “My name is Isabel,” she said, holding out her hand. “But you can call me Isa. That’s what Papa calls me.”

  Mara bent down to meet the child’s large amber eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isa. My name is Mara.”

  Isa giggled. “You have pretty hair. Papa told me you’d be pretty.”

  “Well thank you. You are very pretty yourself. How old are you, Isa?” Mara asked.

  Isa held out her chubby little fingers and counted. “Five years,” she said.

  Rowan put an affectionate hand on the top of Isa’s head. “Why don’t you go with Annora to the kitchen and give me some time to get acquainted with Mara.”

  Isa pouted. “Oh, but papa, I want to stay.”

  He shook his head with a slight reprimand. “You can spend some time with her later.”

  Isa reluctantly agreed. “Fine, but maybe later Mara can play horses with me. Corbin made me some pretty wooden horses.”

  Mara laughed. “I would love to play horses with you.”

  That seemed enough to satisfy Isa, who skipped off with Annora from the room.

  “She’s your daughter?” Mara asked Rowan.

  Rowan shook his head. “Not by blood. But I consider her mine nevertheless.” He motioned towards the table. “Please, come and sit with us.” Rowan led her to the table. Corbin rose and moved down a spot, leaving the seat closest to Rowan empty. When Mara sat, she clutched her hands tightly in her lap to prevent anyone from seeing them shake.

  Rowan looked at her a long moment. “It truly is remarkable, how much you resemble her. I feel as though I’m staring right at her.”

  Mara frowned, suddenly feeling an anger rise up inside her. “But I am not her,” she said, struck by the sense of contention she felt. If Rowan suspected something would happen to her mother, why hadn’t he come to warn her? She also couldn’t forget that for some reason, her mother ran from him.

  Rowan’s eyes fell as he nodded. “That is true. You are not her. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I did not come sooner. I will have to live the rest of my life knowing that had I trusted my visions, I might have saved her. But I swear to you Mara, I didn’t know for certain.”

  He glanced at Malcolm. “I am aware that you read the letter I sent to your mother, and I am sorry you were forced to confront so many unanswered questions. I would have preferred if it came directly from me. But Malcolm and Corbin have assured me that you would not have gone with them otherwise, and I can only consider your judgment to be wise.”

  Corbin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There was a price put on her head, Rowan. We don’t know why, but just before we left the village, it seemed apparent that the magistrate wanted her back.”

  Rowan wrinkled his brow. “A price on her head? Did he charge her with anything?”

  Corbin shook his head. “They tried to grab her when she begged for her mother’s life. I would imagine they intended to imprison her as a witch, though putting a price on her head seems strange to me, don’t you agree?”

  Rowan nodded thoughtfully. “So it does.” He turned to Mara. “Do you know why they would go so far as to put up a reward for your capture?”

  “No,” Mara lied, not wanting to tell Rowan that she thought they might know about her fire. “I did nothing but ask for my mother’s freedom.”

  Rowan put a hand to his chin. “Well, we will have to look into this further. Until then, Mara, stay close to Valenia and don’t go to any village without one of us present.”

  Mara’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that I’m staying here. And if I do, I don’t see why I need an escort wherever I go.”

  Rowan let out an exasperated sigh and looked at Malcolm and Corbin. “Will you two excuse us please?” Corbin gave Mara a quick smile, but Malcolm was unreadable, watching her with his icy gray eyes.

  When they were alone, Rowan reached for the jug in front of him, poured its contents into a silver cup and handed it to Mara. She took a sip and pursed her lips when it touched her tongue. Wine. She’d tasted wine before, but never one so strong. Rowan smiled at her reaction and poured one for himself. “You may not want to hear how like your mother you are. I am sure it’s very painful for you right now. But even her stubbornness is reflected in you. It might be a useful way to avoid the things that frighten you, but in the end it will bring you nothing but loneliness and sorrow.”

  Mara took a long draft of the wine, feeling it glide down her throat. Then she took a deep breath and looked Rowan straight in the eye. “My apologies if
I seem hostile. However, you must realize that in the last three days my mother has been murdered, I have been hunted down by outlaws, and I have learned I have an uncle.” She downed the rest of the wine and filled the cup again.

  Rowan nodded. “I am aware this has not been easy for you, but you are not alone. I have lost my only sister. If I don’t seem as saddened as you think I should, it’s not because I am indifferent. It’s because I am happy to know that my niece has survived, and I am grateful that she has come here safely.” He looked down at her ankle. “Well, relatively safely. I heard about your accident.”

  “Indeed,” Mara said dryly. She watched him, trying to see beyond his eyes. Something about him unnerved her. Though he looked young, there was something deeper about him, an air of sagacity that stretched far beyond his youthful face.

  Rowan clasped his hands in front of him and sat back. “I assume you have many questions for me?”

  Mara nodded.

  “And you’re wondering why your mother wouldn’t see me? Is that what makes you uneasy?”

  “Yes,” she said, taking another gulp of wine.

  “I can assure you that your mother certainly wasn’t running from me. She and I were close in the years before she left, and there were no ill words exchanged between us at any time. I think she got herself into a situation she couldn’t face. One day, 20 years ago she simply left me a letter, asking me not to search for her. I loved my sister dearly and respected her wishes.”

  Mara wanted to believe him, but the uncertainty wouldn’t leave her. “Then tell me, why would my mother keep so many secrets from me? What are we?”

  A shrewd smirk crossed Rowan’s lips. “You and I, dear niece, come from a race of beings for which all earthly memory has been forgotten. We are what the ancients called, Dia.”

  Mara searched her memory, trying to recall the distantly familiar word when it came to her. “Gods?” she asked.

  Rowan nodded. “You know the language, I see.”

  Mara shook her head as her mind wandered. “No. I mean, not really. I’ve seen it before in one of mother’s books.” She had indeed read the word before. It was a written legend of a race of people that once ruled Ireland, known as the Tuatha Dé Danann. They were ancient demigods, mortals with god-like abilities. “But that can’t be,” she whispered to herself.

  Rowan’s lip curled. “Don’t fool yourself, Mara. You can feel the Light within you, and you’ve known it since you were a young girl, you just didn’t know how to define it. Perhaps you’ve felt your heightened senses? You can hear things others can’t, see things others don’t, and you can manifest things, strange things that you’ve kept hidden?”

  Mara was stunned. “Like the fire…”

  “Yes. Like the fire,” Rowan said, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “This has been a terrible burden, this secret, hasn’t it?” His eyes seemed to flash with light.

  “Yes,” she said. “I thought that’s why they killed my mother.”

  “That’s not why, Mara. Humans don’t know about us. They killed your mother because of their silly superstitions. But I can’t understand why she allowed it to happen.” His eyes turned away in thought, and then he pushed himself away from the table. “Follow me,” he said with an extended hand. “Let’s get some air.”

  He led her to the far end of the room, through a doorway, and down a narrow set of stone steps. Mara’s legs felt wobbly as she walked down each step, lifting the folds of her dress with one hand and steadying herself on the wall with the other. As they neared the bottom, there was a door lined with sunlight seeping through the cracks. Rowan pulled back the latch and led Mara outside.

  They emerged onto the beach. The sun was high, covered in only a few white clouds. The door from which they had come was at the base of the large cliff, on the opposite side of where she had entered the night before. Mara was awestruck when she looked out onto the water. It was so vast and the gentle waves danced like liquid glass, with pockets of sunlight reflecting off each swell. Rowan let her gaze upon it a moment longer and then he said, “Let’s walk. There is something I want to show you.”

  She followed him further down the beach towards the mouth of a cave at the edge of the inlet. It was so deep that the sunlight didn’t reach far enough to reveal what lay beyond the darkness. Mara’s heart thudded with warning, but before she could step back from the cave, she was pulled in and everything around her went dark. “What is this?” she demanded. “Let me out!” She searched for the opening and felt for the cave walls, but there was nothing around her.

  “Trust yourself.” Rowan’s voice seemed to echo as if it were all around her.

  “I’ve had enough of this!” she screamed, feeling the fury well up inside her. She focused her mind, trying to calm herself and summon the fire, when the warmth began to rise within her. A small orb of fire emerged from the palm of her hand, giving her only enough light to see a foot in front of her.

  Suddenly she felt something rush past her, and the sound of metal hitting stone reverberated throughout the cave. She froze and listened as another hiss moved past her head. The fire she held grew stronger, brighter, until it burst into a large white-green ball of light. She looked around just as the tip of a sharp blade barreled towards her. As if moved by some secondary force, she lifted her hand and without thinking, she caught it.

  In an instant the cave returned to normal and Rowan emerged from the darkness. Mara’s entire body shook, enraged to the point of blindness, and before she knew what she was doing, she hurled the ball of fire at him. His eyes widened and he jumped back, catching the fire in his hands. He held the sphere of light with a look of shock, and then he closed his fingers to extinguish it. “Impressive,” he finally said. Mara had no words. She clenched her fists and stormed out of the cave, drawing the dagger from her sash. There was a rush of energy running through her. Every part of her felt heightened, and on the verge of bursting.

  She sat down to catch her breath just as Rowan appeared as if from the air beside her. She glared up at him, clutching the dagger. “Are you mad?” she demanded.

  Rowan sat down beside her. “I did it to bring forth the power inside you. Clearly you didn’t know how strong it is.” He paused. “I wasn’t trying to harm you, Mara. But at the moment, your anger is the only way to bring out your Light.”

  “What Light?” she snapped.

  “It’s the reason your mother deceived you,” he said in a whisper.

  Mara twisted her hands around the handle of the dagger in frustration. “I wish all of you would stop speaking in riddles. Just tell me what is going on!”

  Rowan’s attention was drawn to the dagger in her hand. “May I see that?” he asked.

  Mara held it close to her.

  “I promise, I won’t do anything to frighten you,” Rowan assured.

  She hesitated a moment, but then handed it to him. Her palms were still burning with heat. If he tried anything, she was sure she could defend herself.

  Rowan examined the round emerald and amber jewels on the hilt. “This is an expensive weapon. It looks to be a lord’s dagger. How did you come to have it?”

  “The guard who helped me escape Moorthrop gave it to me for protection.”

  “I see.” Rowan looked at it a while longer and then handed it back. He took a deep breath and looked out onto the sea. “Our people come from there,” he said, pointing out onto the water. “Our ancestors once ruled Ireland long before the Christian God ever existed. But as is with all kingdoms, the rulers never go unchallenged. There were wars, and not even their powers could secure their kingdom.” He sighed, almost longingly. “Many that survived crossed the sea, leaving the island forever. Some chose to live with mortals, breeding with them, until their bloodline was so diluted through the generations, they ceased to exist. Others went into sidhes, like Valenia, protected from mortal eyes.”

  “Were they not mortal as well?” Mara asked, feeling her anger give way to her curiosity.

  R
owan looked at her, his eyes alight. “How old do I look to you? Thirty perhaps?”

  Mara nodded.

  “The truth is I am nearly two hundred and ninety-two years old.”

  Mara took in a quick breath and looked at him harder. “My mother couldn’t have been that old,” she said.

  Rowan ran his fingers through his hair. “She was. Your mother was three hundred years old.”

  Mara found herself holding her breath. “But how?” she finally asked, still unsure whether she believed him.

  “Most Dia spend more than a thousand years on earth before our perpetually youthful bodies die. Sickness will not affect us, hunger will not emaciate us, and thirst will not desiccate us. Only the passing of centuries, fire, and a fatal blow from steel can kill us. Until then, we live as you see me now.”

  “My mother didn’t look as young as you do,” Mara said.

  “That’s because Ethnea chose to appear older. We have the ability to alter our appearance. We can look older, less ethereal, and some of us can even shift to look like completely different people. But I think there were other reasons for your mother’s transformation and demise.” Rowan’s tone became low.

  “What reasons?”

  “I think she was the Keeper,” Rowan said.

  “The Keeper of what?”

  Rowan paused and then spoke the words with great care. “The coire.”

  “Kor-yuh,”Mara enunciated. “What is that?”

  “It is a gift from the gods. But it has not been seen since the death of our king and final wars that ended our kingdom. It is said to have great power, and can bring our kind back from the Otherworld.”

  “The Otherworld?”

  “It’s where our kind go when we die. No mortal can go there. It’s like our heaven. But the coire brings us back, and that can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. The Keeper is the protector of it. And being that your mother had such a strong Light, I believe she was the protector, and that she ran to hide herself from those who might wish to take it. That’s why she didn’t tell you what you are. By keeping you ignorant of it, she masked your Light.”