by Pat O'Shea
There he stopped. He placed his wand under his arm and then he held his cupped hands out to the children, low enough for Brigit to see.
‘Look!’ he said.
In the cup of his hands there seemed to be a rippling movement and a drop of water was there. In the drop of water they saw something that was green and pink. In a moment they saw a rosebud and it split and unfolded until a complete rose was there, with all its wonderful enfoldings of soft petals. In a second it was gone and Cathbad’s hands held a vision of the blue and purple sea, where snow-white seagulls wheeled and dived and the sleek heads of seals and the smiling faces of dolphins appeared in the shining water. The vision rippled away and now there was a thrush on its nest in Cathbad’s hands. She flew away and the sky-blue eggs with black spots were there. The eggs cracked and four naked babies came into the world. Another moment, they were fully feathered; and testing their wings, they flew away. Now there was a field with a mare and her foal, and the foal did marvellous things with its unsteady legs and its wild little head, tossing its mane and biting at the empty sky. They saw snow falling and the green spike of a daffodil rising through the whiteness of the ground and then, underneath it all, they saw the humble worm turning the earth and keeping it sweet.
And while they were watching, Cathbad’s voice asked:
‘What lies within my hands?’
‘Magic,’ Brigit whispered.
‘An enchantment,’ Pidge said softly.
‘What is the battle?’
‘An enchantment,’ Pidge said again, and he squeezed Brigit’s hand gently.
Again there was a rippling in the hands and in the drop of water a minnow swam. It was perfect in its littleness and, when it turned sideways to look out at them, they saw the wonder that was a minnow’s eye. A peacock came next and he spread his splendid tail and rattled it for them proudly. The tail shivered and the peacock was gone and now they saw the children on the swings in Eyre Square, laughing and carefee. Another moment came and they saw again the people on the bridge in Galway and it seemed that children from the whole world walked there, smiling and hopeful.
Now in the hands were two flowers fast asleep. The white flower opened and Patsy, the God Angus Óg, stood on the thick yellow carpet that was the heart of a daisy; and the yellow flower opened and Boodie, who was the Goddess Brigit, stood on the tongue-shaped petals of the dandelion. They held out their arms to Pidge and Brigit and it was an appeal and a sign of love. Boodie’s hat was still covered with flowers and butterflies and, at the front, there was a little moth with a jet-black body of velvet; his wings were red with black spots and he showed them off to the children. One of the spots grew bigger and bigger until it filled Cathbad’s hands making a cup of soft blackness. They gazed into it, and it seemed to be as deep and never-ending as space. In it there were suddenly tiny pinpoints of light and the light was brilliant white. All at once the lights were shivering and twinkling stars and they showered out of Cathbad’s hands like fireworks. They filled the air a little way above with white sparks, and there was the smell of carnations. Some drew together to write the word:
A shudder of happiness ran through Pidge and Brigit.
‘You have not lost your courage,’ said Cathbad.
The stars winked for a few seconds before fading away.
‘Cooroo waits by the waterfall,’ Cathbad said. ‘Keep your courage. The Mórrígan will follow you, but she will be patient until you lead her to Olc-Glas. The Lord Of The Waters will rise only to your bidding—Olc Glas is in his jaws. I leave you now, to go back among the wounded with my healing powers. After you find Cooroo, go home.’
He was gone and the green haze was gone.
Brigit looked at Pidge and she gave him a sudden smile.
‘We got the pebble,’ she said.
Chapter 9
THEY began to run.
Down the snaking grey thread of a path they ran, going faster as it broadened. Before very long they were on level ground and running through the Second Valley.
They went over the patch of dandelions where the Goddess Brigit had made her fire, and elation was rising in them at every step. By the time they found Cooroo, they were bright-eyed and flushed. At the waterfall he was waiting patiently; keeping out of sight in the small hazel-thicket that grew beside the joyous pool.
‘You’re safe!’ Brigit shouted; and she threw herself on him and hugged him.
‘So are you!’ the fox exclaimed, and he licked her enthusiastically.
‘Oh Cooroo!’ Pidge cried. ‘I’m so pleased to see you! You don’t know the dreadful things that have happened!’
Cooroo glanced quickly at Brigit.
‘Don’t try to tell me, Pidge,’ he said prudently. ‘You’re both safe and that’s what matters. Are you bitten, cut or wounded? Are you hurt in any way? Are you lame in any leg? Tell me that?’
‘No,’ they said.
‘You haven’t been touched! I can tell by your faces that you got that pebble you were after—you did, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ they said.
‘Good! Then the work hasn’t been wasted,’ the fox said with a quiet satisfaction. ‘Not wounded, not lamed, and fresh as the morning. When these things exist together, it’s always a new day.’
It was now that Pidge grasped at an understanding of Cooroo’s life; they were free, they were unhurt, their legs worked and there was always hope.
‘Listen to me now,’ Cooroo said, giving a serious weight to his words. ‘The hounds are lying in ambush at One Man’s Pass. Can you smell them?’
They shook their heads.
Cooroo looked amused.
‘What poor examples of noses you have!’ he laughed, and then went on: ‘They believe they have you trapped because they think that there is only one way out of this valley.’
‘There is only one way, isn’t there?’ Pidge asked, instantly attentive.
‘No. I’ve found another way.’
‘Where?’ Brigit asked, conspiratorially.
‘There’s a small passage behind the waterfall. It’s dark in there; but while you were gone, I went all the way through it, and it will bring us out on the east side of these mountains. East is the way to Lough Corrib and your home—is that not right?’
‘Yes,’ Pidge told him.
‘We don’t have to go over the Pass and out through the First Valley after all,’ Cooroo said. His eyes were twinkling again when he added: ‘And if I may say so, the hounds are foxed nicely, this time!’
Pidge smiled broadly. Cooroo seemed able to make anything seem normal.
‘Now, as we go through,’ the fox went on, ‘keep one hand stretched out above and ahead of you, Pidge. You’re the tallest, and I don’t know how high the roof is, so you must explore ahead by touch. Everything else is all right. It’s a bit wet underfoot but you’d expect that. The air is good and it’s quite a short way through.’
With Cooroo taking charge like this, the relief to Pidge was wonderful. It was just so comforting to have someone he could trust, who would simply take charge and give his mind a rest.
‘All right?’ the fox asked.
‘Yes,’ they answered; and then they followed him in under the waterfall.
They were in a niche or small chamber that was narrow but high enough for a full-grown man to stand upright. Facing them now, a short way in, was an apparently blank wall that was the rising mass of the mountain itself, the niche being only a tiny bite out of the living rock. They went directly to this wall.
There Cooroo made a sharp turn to the right and slipped into a division in the rock and the children followed him in. It was dark almost directly, so Pidge did as Cooroo had suggested and, with one hand upraised, he carefully searched the way ahead for any lowering of the ceiling, while his other hand gripped the pebble tightly. Brigit came last. She clutched at the hem of Pidge’s jacket and kept as close as she could to him without treading on his heels. They went in silence. Sometimes there was a drip of cold water fallin
g unpleasantly on their necks. Occasionally they splashed in small pools that felt cold. Now and then they kicked a stone or a pebble and it clattered. Always there was the sound of Cooroo’s paws padding and splashing ahead of them.
The tunnel didn’t go through the wide base of the mountain. It was like a slice cutting across the curve of a great irregular circle, and so, very soon, there was a greyness in the dark and then a lightness in the grey and then an opening that brought them out into sunshine and the three valleys were at their backs, and left behind.
Brigit heaved a huge sigh of relief and she wiped the water from the back of her neck with her hand.
‘We’ve fooled them all,’ she said, and she skipped.
Pidge looked around him in bewilderment.
The open countryside was before them now; but another range of mountains stood ahead of them, not very many miles away.
He had quite lost his bearings and he didn’t know which way to go; but Cooroo nudged him and said:
‘Those are the Maamturks!’
And in Pidge there was conflict. His heart leaped with happiness because he knew these mountains so well by sight. He could see them every day from his home. Once they were past them, there would only be seven or eight miles to cover before they reached Loch Corrib; and at the same time he was thinking—not more mountains, haven’t we done enough?
‘On we go,’ said Cooroo.
As before, they ran through countryside that was lake-dotted and stone-walled and wooded. They stopped once to look back; but as yet no one followed them. The fox urged them on; and presently they reached the rising ground of the Maamturks. Cooroo studied the way up, moved along a bit, and he wasn’t satisfied until he found a dried-up gully, and then he said that this was a good place to start the climb—as Pidge and Brigit had only two legs each.
‘It’s no use worrying about our scent—so we won’t bother our heads about it,’ he declared. ‘The main thing now is for us to gain distance.’
Flat stones projected from the floor of the gully where the water had long ago washed the soil away; and they stood out like steps and were climbed without much difficulty. They found a sheep path then and Cooroo led them upwards as they followed it. After a long climb on this path, they found a broad shoulder of heathery ground that led them easily to the high top. Now that they were at the very top, they stopped and looked back again.
‘The Twelve Pins look like ghosts of mountains instead of real mountains now,’ Brigit remarked, wonderingly.
They examined the countryside that they had already covered and they were pleased when there was no sign of anyone moving there.
Cooroo faced about and he took in a deep breath of air. And although there was no wind to carry scent to them, he said:
‘I can smell the fresh water of the lake; its softness comes across to me in the air! On we go, again!’
They began their descent.
It took a fair bit of time as they had to be careful—not so much of falling, as the going was quite easy, but of twisting an ankle. Near the bottom, they found a grassy slope and they half-ran, half-slid down it. Then, over a last bit of tufty, heathery land and across a stream by stepping-stones, and they could really run again.
With no other great natural obstacle between themselves and the lake, they went light-heartedly and easily. They ran so well that they almost danced over the ground. Elation was rising in them again and their eyes sparkled. They felt that they could bite and taste the air. Again, now that they wanted to go fast, they found that they were very fast indeed. Cooroo was overjoyed at his wonderful new speed. Pidge knew that it was entirely because of the herbs they had eaten, of course; and he wondered, fleetingly, if it were all too easy. But he was exhilarated by his swiftness and he felt a sense of power.
Once Brigit said:
‘Is there anything in sight?’
And they stopped for some seconds and stared hard at everything behind them.
‘No,’ Cooroo decided; and they ran on.
Another time, Pidge said:
‘What now? Is there anything in sight, this time?’
Again they stopped and searched the distance between themselves and the Maamturks. Nothing moved, so they ran on.
Now they were laughing and full of hope.
Chapter 10
EMBROILED in the battle, The Mórrígan did not see them go.
It was a long time and they were a long way off before she missed them and knew that they had gone away with the pebble. For a moment she stood amongst the carnage, before going swiftly to stand with Macha and Bodbh. She communicated with them rapidly; they listened intently—and in the next moment, they had melted into her and become one with her again; their three shadows combining into a single dark shape.
For a few seconds, she stood with the blood lust gone from her and her beauty was even greater than before; for she had been greatly refreshed.
She gave a soft call and her six and twenty she-warriors struggled to her side. Bunched around her, they fought their way into the second cavern where each one grasped a shuddering horse by its dangling reins.
Dragging the screaming horses after them, The Mórrígan and her warriors gave a leap into the sunbeam and escaped into the motes. No one could tell which of the millions of particles they had now become.
Presently before the mouth of the cave, a troop of horsewomen descended from the sky and started along the valley with a clatter of hooves over grey slabs. At breakneck speed the frightened horses raced, swerving as best they could to avoid the sharp daggers of rock that stood up from the ground. Every living thing scattered before them as they rode in a wild burst towards the Eye Of The Needle. The Mórrígan was smelling the way that Pidge and Brigit had gone. Her purpose was to follow their trail exactly. Her reason was simple—it was in case that, in their great fear, the children might have cast the pebble away, to be rid of her. She knew that the blood on the pebble would not allow her to pass by, without revealing itself to her; and as she and her warriors galloped crazily along, she was ready to receive its silent message.
She charged ahead to take the lead as they approached the way out of the valley; and in single file, they dashed up the path and swept through the Eye of the Needle and thundered down the snaking, grey path, regardless of danger to the horses or themselves.
They rode boldly through the deserted Second Valley.
Their pace was the incredible hurry of a race. The horses’ ears were laid back, their nostrils flared widely and their tails streamed out behind them. Great veins stood throbbing on their heads and necks, and their manes were like flames of fire. Still, the riders wished for even greater speed and they kicked into the horses’ flanks with their heels. Before very long, they were wheeling past the base of the mountain where the water fell; and there, The Mórrígan pulled cruelly on her reins. Her horse reared madly, plunged and reared again and then stood, quivering and snorting, while the other horses milled about in panic.
The Mórrígan called her hounds.
Slim shapes appeared on the crest of the far mountain where the pass led over into the First Valley; and they ran in haste to obey her.
Again there was rapid communication.
Smell! was the command when they arrived. What means this?
The hounds scented the children and the fox, and were too confused to answer. They abased themselves before her.
My enemies have slipped through here with the fox—is this how you watch? she questioned, her face impassive.
The hounds rushed to explain that One Man’s Pass was the only known way out of the valley.
Who guards One Man’s Pass now? she wanted to know.
‘It is unguarded—we, all of us, came in answer to your call, to serve you’ Greymuzzle explained.
Fools! This could be a trick of The Dagda’s. At this very second, the brats and their companion could be out of hiding and sneaking through the unguarded Pass above. You, Findepath! Take one other and follow the scent that is
here. If my enemies have found a way through at this place, do likewise. Wait on the other side until we arrive. Mind! Keep your noses sharp in case my bloodstone lies discarded on the way. And woe betide you all for this piece of stupidity.
‘Yes, Great Queen,’ the hounds answered, lying in abasement on the ground.
Findepath and Fowler then went behind the waterfall. As they left the main party, one of the she-warriors leaned from her horse and gave Fowler a slap on the hindquarters with the flat of her sword, to encourage him in his duty.
Once he was in the dark, he bared his teeth briefly but plodded on after Findepath as he had been ordered.
Again the riders drummed the horses’ sweating flanks with their heels; and, followed by the remaining hounds, they charged on through the Second Valley. They sped past the huge boulder and urged their horses up the sash-like path. Sensing extra carefully, The Mórrígan led her forces at unbroken speed through the Pass and they followed the line of the mountain and poured down, into, and through the First Valley.
Where the cottage of Sonny Earley had stood, there now grew a wide and thick ring of daisies. The Mórrígan’s eyes flashed fire and there was a deep scowl on her lovely face as they galloped past.
Soon they had reached the far end of the horse-shoe shaped valley and they charged out into the open. They turned sharp left, still driving their horses unmercifully. On they went, obsessed with hurry, until they at last had raced parallel with the mountains to the place where Findepath and Fowler had emerged from the rock passage, and where they now stood waiting.
They reined in for a little time while she questioned as to whether the pebble had been abandoned by Pidge in the tunnel. On hearing that it had not, she scowled; and they all set off again following the trail.
Now that they were in open country, the hounds kept pace with the galloping horses. In time, they reached the point that Cooroo had chosen as an easy way over the Maamturks. Only The Mórrígan and the hounds used the gully as a path upwards. But the she-warriors kept in line with her and forced their horses to throw themselves at a rougher ascent. Without a definite path to follow, the horses laboured up the slope, digging in their powerful back legs to thrust their bodies forwards and upwards, while the she-warriors beat them with the flats of their swords. The horses’ hooves knocked down stones that clattered like falling slates in a high wind. Fowler looked at the cruelly-used horses with something like pity.