Muse

by Kylie Quillinan

  "Owain? Owain!"

  "Rhiwallon's gone." His voice broke and the lamplight shone on the tear tracks on his cheeks.

  "Gone where?"

  He seemed to stumble blindly. He almost fell and the lamp dipped precariously close to the ground, but he regained his balance and kept moving.

  "Owain, stop. Tell me what happened."

  Bramble's trembles started to ease. Her face was still burrowed into my chest and she didn't seem inclined to move. I kept my arms around her, stroking her back. Owain finally set down the lamp and collapsed onto his blanket, head in his hands and his shoulders slumped. He seemed smaller than he usually did.

  "Something was standing over her when I woke," he said hoarsely. "It took her."

  A few moments passed before my mouth would work. "Who? Why?" I hardly knew where to start.

  "Couldn't move, couldn't speak."

  My mouth framed questions I couldn't say. Finally, I managed to squeak, "The fey?"

  He shrugged. "You're the bard."

  "But… What would they want with Rhiwallon?" A horrible thought occurred to me. "It wasn't Rhiwallon they wanted. They want to stop me from getting to Crow's Nest. Or delay me. It's a distraction. Like how they led me off the path last time."

  Fiachra had said I would have companions and that one would not be what they seemed, but he hadn't said I wouldn't need each of them. I tried to remember his exact words, whether he had said my companions would still be with me when I faced Ida, but I couldn't think clearly. There was a possibility I would need all three to stop her.

  "We have to go after her," I said. Owain nodded his agreement.

  I packed some provisions while Owain untethered the oxen. They would have to fend for themselves until we returned.

  "Do you know much about the fey?" I asked. I didn't wait for his reply. "We must not eat or drink anything offered to us within their territory. Time may not pass the same way as it does here. We might seem to be there a week and find only an hour has passed here, or it might seem no time there and weeks here."

  Owain grunted, intent on sharpening his daggers.

  "We should make sure we don't get separated. And we shouldn't believe anything the fey say, be it good or bad. They won't lie, or at least the old tales say they won't, but they may twist the truth and make things seem what they are not."

  Owain handed me a dagger. Moonlight glinted off steel as he slid another into his boot. He slung his pack over his shoulder and hefted his axe. I tested the dagger's weight. It was larger than my own and more finely made. When I ran my thumb along the blade, the skin parted effortlessly and a bead of blood appeared. My own small dagger was already in my boot; the experience in the woods, when I didn't know it was only Bramble behind the bush, had taught me the value of being armed better than Caedmon's lectures ever did. I slid Owain's dagger into my other boot. It didn't sit quite as comfortably as my own.

  Owain strode over to where Rhiwallon had been sleeping. Her blanket was empty and rumpled. Beside the blanket lay her bow and quiver. She wouldn't have left willingly without them. Owain picked them up and slung them over his other shoulder.

  "She'll want these when we find her," he said.

  I nodded, unwilling to voice my fear that the fey might have taken Rhiwallon somewhere we couldn't follow. I looked around for Bramble. For one heart-stopping moment I feared she too had been taken. Then I saw a streak of white some distance from our camp. She dashed around, nose to the ground.

  "Come on, Bramble," I called, and then to Owain, "Which way do you think?"

  He nodded towards Bramble who still circled, sniffing at the ground. "Follow Bramble."

  Indeed, as soon as we looked at her, Bramble gave a short, sharp bark. It was a definite follow me. I hesitated but Bramble barked again. Owain started towards her. Still she waited, looking to me.

  "All right, I'm coming." I picked up my pack. "But I hope you know where you're going."

  Bramble trotted off, following a path only she could identify. She paused, looking back over her shoulder to make sure we were following. Branches crunched beneath Owain's heavy boots and I hurried after him, anxious to keep myself within the light of the lamp he bore. She led us on a winding path around bush, up hill and then down, over rock and through a dry creek. We walked in circles and doubled back on our path. Finally, Bramble paused at a low mound, mostly still snow-covered but with a few eager strands of grass poking through.

  "This is where the path leads?" I asked. "What are we supposed to do now?"

  Bramble gave me a disdainful stare and turned back to the mound. She barked three times and an opening appeared. It was large enough to admit a grown man. Inside was shrouded in darkness. I was so shocked that my legs almost gave out beneath me. It was a coincidence, of course, the opening appearing right as Bramble barked. Likely our presence had somehow activated it.

  "Good girl," Owain said.

  Bramble flicked her tail at him and glared at me.

  "Well done, Bramble." I leaned down to rub her ears. "I don't know how you did that, but well done."

  She ducked her head out of my reach and stepped away. If she wasn't just a dog, I would have thought she was angry with me.

  Owain held the axe in front of him, gripping it in one hand and the lamp with the other. "I'll go first."

  I was only too glad to agree. He stepped into the barrow, ducking his head in order to fit, and I followed. The moment I passed through the entrance, one of my boots began to feel warm. Then suddenly it was hot. Burning hot. Owain threw both axe and lamp outside onto the snow and ran out of the mound. The lamp's flame sputtered and died. My foot felt like it was on fire. I dived through the opening and flung myself to the ground to pull off the boot. Owain's dagger dropped out and sizzled in the snow. I reached for it but burnt my fingers.

  "Hot," Owain said.

  "Yours too?" I looked from his axe to the dagger and knew what I had forgotten. Almost every tale I knew of the fey told of this. "Cold iron. The fey can't stand to be near it. There must be a charm on this place to prevent us from entering with cold iron."

  "No weapons?"

  My little bronze dagger was still safely tucked into my other boot. I opened my mouth to tell Owain but hesitated. If there was a charm to prevent us entering with cold iron, there may be other charms on this place. Perhaps even now the fey watched or listened.

  "No, no weapons," I said and pulled my boot back on.

  Bramble watched from the entrance to the mound, one front paw slightly raised. With the tip of one finger, I touched Owain's dagger. It was still warm but cooling rapidly. Definitely there was a charm at work for I had never seen iron cool so swiftly. Owain gingerly picked up his axe and hefted it, then lay it back down on the ground with a regretful look.

  "Let's go," I said. "Slowly, and stick together. Bramble, you stay right next me."

  She glanced at me and sniffed. We marched back into the mound. Once inside, a faint green light lit the darkness, just enough to see our path. There was no obvious source of light but it seemed we would have no need for a lamp. The tunnel passed through firmly-compacted earth and sloped sharply down. I tried not to think about the earthen ceiling or its lack of visible supports. The air smelled like moist earth, the kind that's good for planting crops in.

  Owain went first, clenched hands indicating he was less than comfortable without the familiar weight of his axe. I took up the rear with Bramble between us. Was it better to be first or last? The first was most likely to run into any trap or ambush. But the last was at risk of something sneaking up on him from behind. I was somewhat comforted by the weight of the small dagger in my boot.

  We had gone barely twenty paces before the path took an abrupt turn to the right and the last shimmers of moonlight disappeared, leaving the pale green light as our only source of illumination. I stepped carefully to avoid treading on Bramble who scurried with her tail tucked between her legs. How much did she understand? Clearly she knew we searched for Rhiwa
llon and she was afraid. Likely that was all she knew.

  We walked and walked. Sometimes the path sloped down; at other times, it veered uphill. It would turn to the right then to the left and at one stage even wound back in the direction from which we had come. In no time at all, I was completely disorientated. And still we walked. The only sounds were those we made ourselves.

  The air was warm and still, scented with dirt and moss. I was soon covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. We paused briefly to drink. Bramble began holding up her injured paw, hopping along on three legs. Owain scooped her up and tucked her under his arm.

  In the dim green light, I had no sense of time. The path inclined upwards again and we trudged on, going up and up until I felt sure we must soon emerge from the earth into the fresh air above. By the time the path levelled again, my muscles quivered and I could hardly lift my feet. I gritted my teeth and plodded on, not wanting to be the first to admit I couldn't continue. Eventually, Owain stopped and set Bramble down.

  "May as well take a break," he said. "Been walking a long time."

  "How long can this tunnel possibly be?"

  I didn't expect an answer and he didn't reply. I set down my pack and slid to the ground in relief. The path stretched ahead of us, dimly lit with sickly green for as far as I could see. I leaned against the cool earthen wall and sighed. Bramble curled up next to me, resting her head on my thigh, and I stroked her ears.

  Owain lowered his huge frame down next to me and rummaged in the pack. He offered me an apple and Bramble a strip of dried meat.

  "How long do you think we've been walking?" I asked.

  Owain shrugged.

  "It must be dawn, at least."

  "Prob'ly later."

  Having eaten, we each took a small drink from the flask — Owain poured a portion into his cupped hand for Bramble — and then sat in silence for some time. Eventually Owain stirred.

  "May as well push on," he said.

  I hauled myself to my feet, stifling a groan as tired muscles protested. We walked and walked. Several times we stopped to rest and twice more to eat. I was so tired, I could no longer even think. I walked when Owain told me to, stopped when he stopped, ate when he handed me food. He seemed tireless and kept moving steadily, legs pumping up and down at the same pace. He had long since been carrying my pack and I was too tired to object.

  I had fallen behind, plodding along. There was an idea rattling around in my exhausted brain but I was too tired to make sense of it. There was… something. Something I should do. Or try. I was almost too tired to care what it was but it seemed there was possibly some hope in the idea, whatever it was.

  Ahead of me, Owain waited at a turning of the tunnel. Perhaps once we reached the corner, there would be something else up ahead. Rhiwallon maybe, or an exit. But when I reached Owain, the only thing around the corner was more of the green-lit tunnel.

  They were never-ending, these fey tunnels. Were we the first mortals to become lost in them? Would we eventually come across other folk, or perhaps only their bones? Was this what happened to some of those the tales told of, ones who disappeared from their lives and never returned?

  Tales. I finally understood the idea my mind had been trying to suggest.

  "I should tell a tale." My voice was thin, thready and didn't sound much like me at all.

  Owain looked back at me but said nothing. Perhaps he was too tired to speak. Indeed, it seemed like such an effort. I could barely keep myself on my feet anymore, let alone spare the energy to talk.

  "Perhaps a tale can get us out of here," I said.

  "Go on." He set Bramble down on the ground and she immediately curled up into a ball, head draped across her paws, eyes closed. Owain leaned against the tunnel wall and waited.

  A tale. If it was true that I could bring my tales to life, then I could use that ability to get us out of here. I needed to tell a tale about a group of friends who become separated when one of them is abducted and who find themselves trapped in the land of the fey. Haltingly, I began to speak. My thoughts were confused and at first my words made little sense. But slowly the familiar act of tale telling took over and the words came more easily, despite my exhaustion.

  I told of how the group searched for their friend, becoming more and more tired and unable to find either their friend or a way out of the tunnels. At last, exhausted and close to collapse, the bard tells a tale in which the group find themselves suddenly standing before a door in the tunnel wall, a door that wasn't there before. They open the door and find themselves outside in the sunshine and fresh air. And their missing friend waits to greet them as they stumble out, weary and heartsore. I concluded the tale and searched the walls, waiting for the door to appear. But nothing happened.

  "I don't understand," I said. "Why didn't it work?"

  Owain peeled himself off the wall. "Better keep walking then," he said.

  At some stage we stopped to rest and I fell asleep, curled up on the dirt with Bramble beside me and my pack beneath my head. Owain slept sitting against the wall. I woke to the same steady green light and the never-ending tunnel. We ate and sipped small portions of water. There wasn't much left, certainly not enough to last while we retraced our steps. As we set off again, it was all I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, following Owain and Bramble. My legs wobbled, my feet were blistered and my back ached.

  Some time later, the tunnel finally ended. We came around a bend and into an enormous cavern, its high ceiling lost in the depths of the dim green light. The walls shimmered with bands of different coloured rocks: gold and red and brown. The entry through which we passed was the only exit. We would have to retrace our steps, all the way back along the green-lit path.

  I dropped my pack and followed it down to the floor. Bramble climbed onto my lap, which was uncharacteristic of her. Although she slept with me each night, it was usually Owain's lap she sought during the day. I pulled out the water flask. Only a few drops remained and we shared them amongst the three of us.

  Owain remained standing although he set down his pack and Rhiwallon's bow and quiver. I wondered that he could bear to stay on his feet another moment. My own feet ached and my ankle, so recently injured, was tender. It wouldn't hold up much longer. I started to unlace my boots when Bramble sat up abruptly, ears pricked.

  We were no longer alone.

  31

  Diarmuid

  A HOST OF beings filled the cavern. They resembled humans, appearing in a variety of sizes from child to adult but their milk-white skin and ruby-red lips left me in no doubt that they were fey. I pushed Bramble off my lap and clambered to my feet without lacing up my boots. The fey stared at us in eerie silence, their faces devoid of expression.

  My eyes were drawn to a particular couple. She was beautiful with long dark hair and a cold stare, and he was even taller than their fellows. Eventually, my tired brain realised that these beings I was so rudely staring at were probably their rulers. They featured in so many tales that every child knew their names: Oberon and Titania.

  At my feet, Bramble stood with ears alert and her tail drooping. Owain's face was white, his hands clenched. The fey seemed content to stand and stare at us. Despite their numbers, which must have been in the hundreds, there was not a noise from any of them.

  I cleared my throat, the sound awkwardly loud in the silence of the cavern, and when I spoke my voice was thready. "We are looking for Rhiwallon."

  Titania raised an eyebrow and her lips curled just the tiniest bit. "Indeed," she said.

  I waited but she did not seem inclined to volunteer anything further. "Have you taken her?" I asked.

  Titania raised graceful hands and indicated I should look around the cavern. "Do you see her here amongst us?"

  I started to reply but stopped. The tales say the fey cannot lie but they will willingly mislead, answering with trickery and riddles. I could read nothing in Titania's cold gaze. I searched for a question she could not mislead me with. "Will
you take us to her?" I asked.

  Titania laughed but there was no amusement in the sound. Others laughed also and then, abruptly, they all fell silent in the same moment. "No," she said. "I will not take you to her. If you want to find the human girl, you must seek her yourselves."

  I opened my mouth but Titania forestalled my words with a raised finger. "One question further," she said. "And then I will answer no more."

  I closed my mouth with a snap. Three questions. How could I, steeped in tales as I was, not have anticipated this? I should have known, should have considered my words more carefully. I could ask whether Rhiwallon was safe but that would give no clue as to her location.

  "How can we find Rhiwallon?" I asked.

  Titania's eyes glittered and when she spoke, her lips twisted cruelly and her voice rang through the cavern. "One will bear another's coat until the final round. One will face their greatest fear, wearing a gossamer gown. One may pass the fiery depths and only once may go. Locate the key to leave this place. In plain view it will be found."

  My heart sank down into my boots. It was a riddle and it made little sense. Obviously, it was Rhiwallon who would face her greatest fear although I didn't understand the reference to a gossamer gown. I had no idea who might wear somebody else's coat for neither Owain nor I had brought such an item into the mound. I didn't want to even think about what might be meant by passing the fiery depths. And then there was the key: it needed to be found but wouldn't really be hidden?

  In the time I had spent thinking, the fey had left. One moment they stood there, staring at us in silence, and in the blink of an eye they were gone. Not so much as a rustle or a murmur betrayed their exit and afterward, the only evidence of their presence was a single leaf, blood-red against the brown stone of the cavern floor. It hadn't been there before.

  Owain bent to pick up the leaf. It lay lightly on his palm and, together, we stared at it. I had never before seen such a leaf. Its edges were straight, the corners pointed. It shimmered with a red so deep, it was almost black. Lying on Owain's palm, it looked like a triangle sliced into his skin exposing the blood beneath.