Muse

by Kylie Quillinan

  I slowly cracked open the back door, hesitating as it creaked, but nobody came to investigate. I set off towards the barn, wanting to be alone for a short while. The late winter night was colder than I had expected and I swiftly regretted not bringing a coat. The ground shone silver in the moonlight and remnants of the last snowfall crackled underfoot. Distant fir trees stood like sentinels, silent witnesses to the night's events.

  Suddenly a figure in a dark cloak trod soundlessly beside me. I greeted Fiachra with a nod. There seemed no need for words. He returned my nod and we walked together without speaking. The only noise was the crunching of my boots against the snow and the sighing of the trees as the night breeze whipped through them.

  I opened the barn door and by the time I secured it again, Fiachra had a lamp lit.

  "Events are occurring, Diarmuid," he said. "The time of evil has arrived. The only question remaining is what will you do about it?"

  "Me?" I squawked. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "You do not know?" Fiachra's face was solemn and I could read nothing in his eyes.

  I shook my head.

  "But surely you suspect?"

  I hesitated, not wanting to voice aloud my silly superstition.

  "All you tell me will be held in confidence, brother."

  "I wondered…" My courage failed but he waited patiently as I sought the words to admit what I barely believed. "The witch… I thought… I think she may be my fault."

  Fiachra held my gaze and waited. If he judged me, it did not show on his face.

  "I created a woman. In my mind. A muse. She was just another tale really. I pretended she whispered ideas to me and I told my tales to her. The more I thought about her, the more real she seemed to become. Then one night I dreamed she left my head and walked away. I think she might be the witch everyone has been talking about."

  It sounded as ridiculous as I had expected but Fiachra nodded gravely.

  "So what do you intend to do?" he asked.

  Courage increased, flooding through my body like warm soup. "I guess I have to stop her," I said, although I had not actually considered this until now. "If I created her and somehow brought her to life, I can't leave her to… People have died. If this is my fault…"

  My voice trailed off. Fiachra stretched out a hand and laid it gently on my shoulder. Like the last time he touched me, a warm tingle passed through my body.

  "You must do what you must do, Diarmuid. If you believe you have created this creature, you must stop her."

  "But how? How can I stop a witch? I'm just a bard."

  "You tell me. How did you create her?"

  "I thought of her. And then she was there, in my mind."

  "If you created her in your mind, then your mind can also devise a way to stop her."

  "I suppose I should go to Crow's Nest. Find the witch. See if she really is Ida."

  Fiachra nodded and gently pressed his fingertips against my forehead in a final benediction. "My blessing be on you, brother. Be brave. Be cautious of whom you trust. You will find companions on this journey but they will not all be what they seem."

  "You already know what will happen? Will I…" I couldn't put into words all I wanted to ask.

  "I can tell you nothing further, Diarmuid. You must be free to choose your own way. Indeed, I do not know the outcome of your journey. There are options, choices, paths. Each leads to a different result. But which one you will choose, I do not know."

  "When should I leave?"

  "As soon as possible, tomorrow if you can. Creatures such as these are often strongest with the dark of the moon. She has already had one darkness. Two or three may make her unstoppable."

  "The new moon was just a couple of days ago so I have almost four sevennights until the next."

  "Less, for her strength will grow as the moon waxes and its darkness draws nearer."

  "I'll leave tomorrow morning." My voice was somewhat thready for this gave me little time to prepare.

  Fiachra nodded and his eyes were solemn. "I will be watching you on your journey, brother. There may be little I can do to aid you but if you have need of me, call and I will come if I can."

  "How will you hear me?"

  He smiled briefly. "I will hear. Do not fear that I won't."

  "Mother. Will you tell her something? Enough that she won't worry but perhaps not the whole truth?"

  "Do not worry about our mother. With all else happening here, she will barely notice your absence."

  The thought was discomfiting.

  "I wish you well, brother. May your journey be successful and may you return home with both mind and body intact."

  The moon was well on its odyssey across the night sky before I went to bed. I bundled up the items I thought I might need into an oilcloth and stowed them in a deep pack. Two clean shirts and a spare pair of socks. Flint. A small dagger. Two blankets for the nights were yet cold. A surreptitious trip to the kitchen after the servants had retired for the night secured several days' supply of food: bread, cheese, water, some dried meat, pork perhaps but it was hard to tell. I had little in the way of coin but all I had went into the pack. Caedmon sometimes gave me a coin or two before he returned to the campaign and I had rarely had need of them.

  By the time I was done, the pack was far heavier than I liked. I emptied it and started again. Spare boots weren't necessary for I could buy them on my way. The needle and thread I kept, and after all, they weighed little. The second blanket was surely a luxury. I hesitated over the spare water flask but I could ration my supplies and fill my flask at every opportunity. I weighed the purse in my hand. It wasn't that heavy and I might need every coin.

  And so it went on, until the pack was reduced to a weight I thought I could carry all day. It looked piteously small now for I had discarded more than I kept. I could only hope those summer expeditions with Caedmon had prepared me for this journey.

  16

  Ida

  WITH FREEDOM COMES joy and pain, pleasure and sorrow. Pride, rage, passion, remorse. So many emotions. I feel them all and know I am truly alive. They flow into me, strengthening my body, fuelling my power. I draw them into me, more and more and more, until all that remains of the source is an empty and lifeless shell. It is of no matter. There are plenty of other sources. And they all have such a wonderful array of emotions. I can hardly believe how much, and how deeply, they feel.

  I grow stronger with every day and soon I discover fear. That is the most powerful emotion of all. Once I find it, I crave more and more. The power is like nothing I have ever imagined.

  If only I had known what waited out here for me, I might have left sooner. But I needed to wait. I had to bide my time until I was strong enough.

  If he was not so full of darkness, perhaps I would yet still be too weak. I might still be waiting, siphoning off his emotions, piece by piece, encouraging his darkest thoughts and dreams, and drawing all of that power into myself.

  If he was weaker or his soul was lighter, I might never have gained the power to leave.

  17

  Brigit

  AS WINTER BEGAN her slow withdrawal, the intensity of the visions increased. At night, I tossed sleeplessly while images of the boy, the white dog and the woman filled my mind. By day, I was anxious and tired, as irritable as a honeybee smoked out of its hive, and unable to concentrate on anything. Signs of spring were everywhere the day Mother sent me to gather herbs for her. Perhaps she had Seen my fate, for after I had recited the list of herbs she wanted, she gently placed her palm on my forehead.

  "My blessing on you, my child," she said. "Travel safe."

  I scowled, in no mood for blessings and benedictions. I snatched up a basket and my coat and left without a word to her. She stood in the doorway, watching after me for the longest time.

  My mood lifted as I stomped across the fields under a sky blanketed with fluffy white clouds. No breeze ruffled the branch of birch or beech. The snow underfoot was thinner now for the days were startin
g to warm. I walked with purpose for I knew exactly where I needed to go. Two of the herbs Mother wanted could be found by a particular stream; for another, I would need to venture into the nearby woods. I watched for the fourth as I walked, for its leaves preferred sunlight and open air.

  By the time I reached the woods, I had found all but one of the herbs. My legs were tiring and I was hungry, for in my bad temper I had not thought to bring any food. The air was colder within the shelter of the woods and smelled of moss and dampness. Little snow had reached these depths. Fir trees grew close together, fighting to grow tallest and reach the sunlight first. I picked my way around fallen branches and between mossy rocks, trying not to tread on the small mushrooms growing in the shadows.

  At first I had ignored the fey girl as she slipped from tree to tree, almost invisible in the gloom, but now I was hungry and tired and more than a little fed up with being spied on.

  "Why do you follow me?" I asked as I clambered over a toppled fir that blocked my path. My voice echoed through the woods, louder than I had intended. There was no response, not that I expected any. However, as I rounded a bend in the barely-visible path I followed, more sense than sight, she stood there.

  Slight and fey, she had long dark hair that curled and tangled around her shoulders. Her skin was milky white and her lips far too red. Her eyes were what startled me the most for they were as blue as a summer sky and seemed to pierce my soul as she stared at me. She stood awkwardly, hip jutting out to the side, and waited. For what, I wasn't sure.

  It was I who spoke first. "Hello." She continued to stare. "Why do you now stand there after trying to be invisible for so many days?"

  "Had I wanted to be invisible," she retorted haughtily, "you would have known naught of my presence."

  "Why do you follow me then?"

  "To watch you."

  "Why?"

  "So that we know what you do and what you don't."

  "Why do you need to know?"

  "Because you will be important, in as much as a mortal can be."

  "Important to what?"

  "To everything," she said. "And so you must do as I say."

  "I shall not," I said indignantly, before realising she hadn't yet said what she wanted from me.

  She glared, clearly unused to anyone refusing her instructions. "You shall. For you have no choice. Everything in your life has led you towards today, towards here and now."

  I reined in my temper. Perhaps it was better if I at least appeared to consider her demands. "What is it you want from me?"

  "You will leave here immediately and set out on a journey."

  "And where would I travel to?"

  "It is not important that you know the destination." Her tone was dismissive and my annoyance rose again. "All that is important is your obedience."

  "You expect me to leave my home and my life to journey towards some end you will not even share with me?"

  "Yes."

  "Ludicrous," I said. "You do not know much about mortals if you think I will do this merely because you tell me to."

  She frowned and stamped her foot in the leaf litter. "I know everything about mortals. Have I not watched you, learnt all about you? I know what you like, what you don't, what you dream, what you fear. I have watched you as you worked, as you played, as you slept. I know everything about you."

  "You clearly know nothing about me if you think I will depart on some mysterious journey just because you tell me to." I resisted the urge to stamp my own foot. "What use has your watching been if you know so little?"

  Her pretty face turned ugly and she glared at me. "You will do as I say. Whether you do it willingly or no, I care not. My task is to ensure you go, and go you will."

  "I refuse."

  "You cannot refuse. You have no idea of the consequences."

  "Then tell me the consequences. Let me make an informed decision."

  "You do not need to know," she said. "All you need to know is that you are required to go. And go you shall."

  "No. I will not. And that is my final word on the matter."

  I continued picking my way towards the place where the final herb was wont to grow.

  "This is your last chance," she said and her voice held a warning I blithely ignored. "You will be sorry if you do not obey willingly."

  I focused my attention on the path ahead. I heard a huff of exasperation and then the ground rose up to meet my face. The smell of the woods intensified and yet colours became strangely muted. Perhaps I had fainted, hit my head. I thrust my hands into soft fir needles, trying to clutch at the ground, but seemed merely to scrabble fruitlessly.

  My hands looked… odd. White, furry. I raised them to see them more clearly and promptly fell flat on my face in the leaves.

  As I picked myself up, my entire body felt strange. I was hunched over in an unaccustomed position with both hands and feet on the ground, yet it felt strangely natural. My behind trembled and when I looked back over my shoulder, I saw an expanse of silky white hair and a short, stubby tail that flicked from side to side. It stopped when I glared at it but started again as soon as I looked away.

  I realised I was panting with my tongue hanging out. I closed my mouth but suddenly I was suffocating. I opened my mouth and panted, tongue lolling out again. I sat in the leaf litter and studied the white paws at the end of my arms. Four claws plus a fifth, shorter. Thick white hair, which almost obscured the shiny black claws. Between my eyes I could just make out a black nose, which seemed to stick out far further than it should.

  Memories of visions flooded my mind and I trembled. There had been a blood-soaked dog in many of them, a small, white terrier, its eyes filled with pain. I had wondered what connection to me the dog would have and now I knew. I looked back towards the fey girl but she was gone.

  I wasted much time sitting in the leaves, staring at my new paws, until I finally realised the day was swiftly passing. My only hope was to find my way home. Mother would surely know what to do, for she was a wise woman and had much arcane knowledge. I did not let myself think about what I would do if she did not recognise me. I tried to speak, to say Mother, it is I, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate and all that came out was a strangled moan.

  I had no way of carrying the basket. I tried to lift it in my mouth but choked on the plaited handle, so the herbs I had gathered would go to waste. I might have expected it to take some time to get used to walking on four legs, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Provided I didn't think about which paw went where, the body I was in seemed to know what to do.

  The tail — I could hardly consider it my tail — twitched from side to side whenever I thought about it. I couldn't quite figure out how it worked or what its purpose was. I had a vague idea that a wagging tail meant a happy dog but this tail moved with the slightest thought. I had never realised how little I knew about dogs.

  I headed towards home but the path seemed different. For starters, I was at the wrong height and so the markers I had noted that would have told me I travelled in the right direction weren't where I expected them to be. After a while, I realised I was following the faint scent of myself. I had walked through here recently. All I had to do to find my way home was follow my own scent. It is harder than it sounds, particularly when one is new to being a dog. Once I started focusing on scent, my sensitive nose became overwhelmed and I froze, paralysed with indecision about which smell to follow. There was moss and water and decay. Mushrooms, mould and some sort of furry creature. I walked without any definite direction for some time, getting used to my new nose and form. By the time I regained my senses, I had lost my own trail.

  I was completely lost, alone in the woods, and not in my own body.

  18

  Brigit

  I SEARCHED THE woods desperately, trying to find my own scent. But no matter how I sniffed and snuffed, it was all earth and dampness, leaves and decay. I paused for a short rest and scrambled up onto a low rock, hoping the height would allow me to
recognise something familiar.

  My new ears heard every whisper and rustle and I didn't dare let myself wonder what manner of creature made such noises. As soon as my legs felt somewhat rested, I continued my search. Had I been able to weep, I would have but it seemed my new eyes could cry no tears.

  I searched and searched, growing increasingly frantic and trying not to think about tales of folk who wandered into the woods and never returned. Soon the little light that seeped this far into the woods began to slip away.

  I redoubled my efforts, running from fir tree to shrubby chestnut, from rock to leafy patch, desperate to find some familiar scent or sight to point me towards home. My whole body trembled and the tail was tucked firmly between my back legs. Had I been in my own form, being lost in the woods would not be quite so bad. I knew exactly what I could do with my own hands and feet and, if nothing else, I could have screamed or cried or yelled. In this form, I was helpless.

  When finally the light had all but disappeared, I had to admit there was no chance of finding my way home today. I was hungry and thirsty but didn't trust my new eyes and nose. I knew almost every food source growing in the woods for Mother had ensured I learnt all a girl destined to become a wise woman should. In my own form, I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have known whether those nuts dangling tantalisingly just out of reach were edible, or whether the roots of the plant by my foot were nutritious, or whether the mushrooms growing in the shade of the rocks were safe to eat. In my own form, I could have made a substantial meal out of the foodstuffs around me.

  But in this strange new form, I doubted myself. The change from woman to dog might have affected my senses or my brain. I no longer knew whether I could rely on my knowledge and I wasn't familiar enough with this nose to trust it. So tonight, I would go hungry, but it wouldn't be for long. Tomorrow, I would find my way home.