"Watch for the beast," I said. Not exactly a bard-worthy final comment.
Clutching the dagger in my sweaty palm, heart thudding so loudly that surely the beast must hear even if it hadn't noticed the damage to its home, I stepped through the web.
Far above me, the sticky strands held Rhiwallon upright but her head was tipped forward and hair obscured her face. I couldn't tell whether she was unconscious or asleep.
"Diarmuid, what are you doing?" Owain's voice was soft and urgent.
"I'm about to start climbing." I tucked the dagger into my boot.
"Hurry," he said and his voice caught on the word.
Sweat trickled down the side of my face as I stared up at Rhiwallon's limp form and wished it was Owain here rather than me. I took a deep breath and prepared to climb.
Most of the rocks were only knee-high to me, so as long as the tower was stable, I should be able to climb it. I stepped up onto the first rock and scrabbled for a grip, my fingers slick with sweat. I hesitated but my purchase seemed steady so far. Another step up, then another. Slowly, slowly, agonisingly slowly. Step, grip, pull, pause.
I kept my eyes focused on the rocks around me. I didn't dare look up or down for fear of losing my balance and falling. Step, grip, pull. A heart-stopping moment as a rock shifted beneath me. I caught my breath and dug my fingers in so hard that a fingernail cracked. I eased up onto the next rock. Step, grip, pull. Rock by rock. Another fingernail broke. I was leaving scarlet smears on the rocks. Time seemed to stop. There was no end to this tower. I would climb forever and never reach the top.
Finally, I hauled myself over the edge and wiped bloody fingers on my pants. My hands throbbed but there was no time to check the damage. The beast could be on its way back. Rhiwallon was tied to a tall rock. Thick strands of sticky web held her upright.
"Rhiwallon," I whispered. "It's me, Diarmuid."
She moaned and twitched. With one trembling hand, I drew the hair back from her face. I had expected her to be bruised and bloodied but she appeared uninjured, although very pale.
"Rhiwallon." I patted her cheek, leaving smudges of blood. "Come on, Rhiwallon, you need to wake up."
Finally her eyes opened. They fixed on me, seemingly unknowing but then her eyes focused. "Diarmuid?" she croaked.
"It's all right." I tried to sound more confident than I felt. "I'm going to get you out of here. Just be quiet."
Rhiwallon looked around. I knew the exact moment she understood where she was for she moaned again, louder this time, and began to pull frantically at her sticky bonds.
"Hold still," I whispered. "I can cut the web but I need you to hold still."
"No, no." She thrashed and kicked but had little room to move. Her head cracked against the rock and she was still again.
"Rhiwallon? Come on, stay awake."
She moaned.
"Don't move," I whispered. "And be quiet. I don't know where the beast is."
She didn't respond. I took a deep breath, trying not to panic. When I sliced through the sticky strands, she collapsed at my feet, her eyes open and staring blankly. I patted her on the shoulder but she didn't seem to notice.
"Rhiwallon, get up." I poked her in the ribs and then, when she still didn't respond, slapped her lightly on the cheek. "Come on."
Rhiwallon blinked, her eyes dazed. I tugged on her arm and managed to get my shoulder partially under her. She made some effort to stand as I hauled her to her feet. Once I got her up, she could stand without assistance.
"I need you to listen to me." I grabbed her chin and turned her face towards me. She looked in my direction, if not directly at me. "Concentrate."
Her eyes were blank.
"We have to climb down these rocks. I can't carry you down. You have to climb. Do you understand?"
Rhiwallon blinked.
I dragged her over to the edge. "Look down."
Slowly, she tipped her head down.
"Can you see where we have to go? We need to climb down these rocks, all the way to the bottom. Owain and Bramble are waiting down there for us."
"Bramble?" she whispered.
"Yes, Bramble. She's at the bottom. You need to climb down to her."
"Climb."
"That's right. Let's go."
Somehow I got Rhiwallon down onto her belly and edged her, feet first, over the side. I could hardly breathe as I waited to see whether she would simply let go and fall.
"You have to climb," I said. "Go down."
Rhiwallon didn't move, didn't respond. Did she even know where she was? Neither of us would survive a fall from this height.
"Move." I made my voice as harsh as I could. "Go on, move. Now."
She hesitated, wavered, and I thought she would surely fall. But then her fingers flexed, taking hold of a rock and clinging to it as she lowered herself down onto the next one. I could have cried with relief. As soon as Rhiwallon had progressed far enough that she couldn't grab me if she panicked, I followed her down.
Our progress was slow for I had to continually prompt her. She kept stopping as if she had forgotten what she was doing. So I told her to move, to go down, to get to the next rock. I followed slowly, staying well out of her reach and trying not to worry about how slowly we were moving. We were halfway down when Owain's cry echoed through the cavern.
"Diarmuid, it comes."
"Go, Rhiwallon." I dropped down onto the next rock and almost landed on her fingers.
She started and looked up at me. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of comprehension and then it was gone, replaced by the vacant stare.
"Move," I snarled.
Then I heard Owain again, a ringing call of challenge, which was answered by a low hiss. There was a crash like rocks smashing together. I gritted my teeth and moved faster. Another clash of rocks. Another yell from Owain. We were almost at the bottom.
"Faster," I hissed.
Almost there. One rock to go.
Then I saw the beast. It was on our side of the web and far too close to the rocks on which we perched. It was easily twice my height with a furry black body and too many legs to count. I cowered as it reared up on its back legs, hissing, and all eight eyes looked directly at me. Venom dripped from its fangs and sizzled on the rocky floor. Time seemed to blur and disappear. The beast hissed again. Owain yelled and a rock slammed into the beast's side. It yowled.
I dropped down from the rocks, landing heavily. Pain shot through my injured ankle and I smothered a cry. Rhiwallon still hesitated on the last rock.
"Come on, Rhiwallon."
She climbed down, moving far too slowly. As soon as her feet touched the ground, I grabbed her hand and we ran. My ankle burned with every step but it held my weight. The beast was blocking our access to the hole I had cut so I ran towards the far end of the web. If Owain could keep the beast occupied long enough, I could cut a new hole. Rhiwallon stumbled and fell. I hauled her back to her feet, ignoring the blood on her knees and palms.
Another hiss came from behind us. As we reached the far corner, I looked back and the sight of the enormous creature leaping towards us, legs outstretched, was worse than any nightmare. Its mouth gaped open, red and terrifying and far too large.
Rhiwallon stumbled again and fell, dragging me with her. The last thing I saw was furry black underbelly. Then I was squashed beneath it, still clutching Rhiwallon's hand with everything I had. The world went black.
35
Diarmuid
THE CAVERN FLOOR was hard beneath me, smooth but unforgiving on my sore body. I opened my eyes. Rocks towered above me and the enormous web was motionless. I lifted my arms, expecting the resistance of gossamer bonds. My arms weren't tied, but they were slick with blood and a putrid greyish goo.
I licked my dry lips, tasted something foul, and tried to speak. My first attempt was an incoherent mumble but it was enough to bring Bramble to my side. She sniffed me, her nose close to my face, dark eyes worried.
"Hey girl," I tried to say. What ca
me out was another moan but Bramble wagged her tail and gave a short bark.
Owain was by my side in an instant. His solemn face chilled me.
"Rhiwallon?" My voice was hoarse and my throat hurt to say even that much. Owain's face stilled and my heart dropped.
"Alive," he said. "But not well."
I tried to sit up but my body wouldn't cooperate and my bloodied hands couldn't grip the rocky floor. Owain helped me, his shoulder strong and sturdy beneath my arm.
"What is this stuff all over me?" My head throbbed and the cavern shifted.
"Beast exploded."
"It's dead?"
Owain's face was grim. "Dead all right."
"Where is it?"
He shook his head. "Don't need to see."
"Where's Rhiwallon?"
"Behind you. I'll help, when you're ready." His mouth was set in a grim line.
Once the cavern stopped spinning, Owain helped me to my feet, gripping my shoulders tightly. My injured ankle throbbed. My head felt like thistledown and my whole body hurt. My hands were sticky but I couldn't find a clean place on either pants or shirt to wipe them, and we had no water. My stomach rolled and I clenched my jaw, fighting not to add vomit to the mess covering me.
Rhiwallon sat on a rock a dozen or so paces behind where I had lain, her shoulders hunched and hair hanging down over her face. She too was covered in blood and mess. Owain held me up as I staggered over to her. Bramble was right by my side, pressing her nose against my calf each time I paused. When we reached Rhiwallon, Bramble sat beside her, close but not touching, looking up at her with troubled eyes and lowered ears.
"Rhiwallon?" I croaked.
She sat perfectly still, hands clasped loosely in her lap. I reached out one hand to part her hair, pushing it away from her face. I wouldn't have touched her, covered in the sticky mess as I was, except that it was all over her too. Globs of the stuff hung in her hair and on her cheeks. Rhiwallon's face was blank, her eyes open but empty.
Snatches of tales ran through my mind, stories of those who had returned from the lands of the fey with their minds damaged, their lives forever changed. I swallowed hard. She wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for me.
"Has she spoken?" I asked.
Owain shook his head.
"She's—" I couldn't put it into words.
"Gone," Owain supplied.
"I think so. She's… she's traumatised."
"Will she come back?"
I waved a hand in front of her eyes. Owain's face was hopeful, his voice tentative. Bramble put her front paws on Rhiwallon's knees and leaned in to sniff her. I gently rested a hand on the top of Bramble's head and she leaned into my touch. At least she was unharmed.
"It was too much for her." I chose my words carefully. "More than she could handle. I think…" His face fell. I took a deep breath. "I think she's lost her mind."
"But she'll get better, won't she?" he asked, fiercely.
"I don't know, Owain. I'm not a healer, just a bard."
Owain crouched in front of Rhiwallon and wrapped his large hands around her tiny ones. "It's over, Rhiwallon. The beast is dead. It's all over."
Rhiwallon didn't move. Owain released her hands and stood. His face showed remorse and guilt. "It's my fault," he said. "I didn't protect her."
"It's not—"
He stopped me with an abrupt motion of his hand. "I'll look after her. Won't let her down again."
"What do you mean?"
He nodded towards Rhiwallon. "I'll look after her till she comes back to herself. Then I'll handfast with her, if she'll have me. I can protect her, look after her. She'll never want for anything."
"What about Maeve?" The words were out of my mouth before I thought twice.
Owain gave me a tight smile. "She's free to go her own way. Me and Rhiwallon will start somewhere else. A new life."
I looked back at Rhiwallon, so still and silent. This was more my fault than Owain's but it never would have occurred to me to offer to bind myself to her.
"We need to move on," I said. "The beast might have a mate."
Owain nodded and slung his pack and the bow and quiver over his shoulders. Then he lifted Rhiwallon. She hung limply in his arms, like a broken doll.
I had avoided looking at the gaping hole at the end of the cavern until now. As we walked towards the opening, my heart was as heavy as the rocks surrounding us. Whatever we faced next might well be worse.
36
Ida
WHERE ONCE I felt the shining spark of Diarmuid's life, somewhere in my breast, now there is nothing. For days, I have felt nothing.
I hardly know what to do. I am not myself. The thought that he might be dead fills my body with… with something I cannot name. My stomach clenches, my throat aches, and strangest of all, my eyes fill with liquid.
Emotions. I thought I understood them, but I find that although I know their names, I don't know how they feel. Is this fear? Sadness? Grief? Horror? Diarmuid's tales speak of all these things but I cannot tell one from the other. My eyes burn when I think of Diarmuid and my hands tremble at the thought that he might be dead.
I sit alone in the living room of the house I inhabit. Its former inhabitants left when I announced I would live here. What else was I to do? I needed somewhere to live and this is a fine house. They needn't have left, though. I think I would have welcomed their company. Perhaps I would not feel quite so alone had I some distraction from wondering whether Diarmuid is dead.
A companion is what I need. A diversion. If he is strong and handsome, even better. I do not want to dwell on the reason for these strange feelings. For I suspect I know what it is and I am not yet prepared to admit it, even to myself. So I shall choose a companion and he will come here to live with me. He will be a pleasant distraction from these feelings I do not know how to deal with.
37
Brigit
THE BEAST LAY dead on the cavern floor and we walked away, albeit somewhat unsteadily. The smell of flowers and rotting leaves clung to the beast's body, the scent I had tracked to locate Rhiwallon. I wanted to tuck my tail between my legs and flatten my ears back against my head and run as fast as I could. Where to, it didn't matter, as long as it was far away from here.
Despite the fey companions of my younger years, most of my knowledge about their race came from ancient tales, and from the wisdom passed down from wise woman to apprentice. Although the tasks of the fey might seem unachievable, the laws of balance meant that there must be a way for it to be completed, however unlikely. I clutched this thought tightly in my heart and prayed that such ancient wisdom wasn't wrong. There had to be a way out of this place.
As we walked through yet another green-lit tunnel, I felt someone watching. I sniffed the air, searching for the watcher's scent, but the only odours I detected belonged to our party: sweat, the unmistakable stink of fear, and the dead beast, whose fetid insides coated Diarmuid and Rhiwallon. If the beast had a mate, I scented no trace of it nearby. Even the fey, whom I thought I had detected from time to time, were now absent. I had mostly come to trust that this body understood the world in a way my human brain never could. And right now, even thought I could identify no other scent, I knew we were not alone.
As we reached the opening, a new scent finally reached my nose and the fear that something terrible awaited us on the other side became overpowering. It smelled like the coals of a dead fire mixed with rotting eggs and utter desperation. Shudders wracked my body and my paws refused to move.
Diarmuid caressed the back of my head and, despite the ooze coating his fingers, I leaned into his hand. The warmth of his fingers soothed me somewhat and a tiniest bit of terror unwrapped itself from my heart.
"Come, Bramble," he said. "We have no choice."
I willed myself to move but my paws felt like they had sunk roots down through the rocky floor. Diarmuid scooped me up. This close to him, the stench of the dead beast was overwhelming and I gagged. He held me to his chest and I could fe
el his heart beating rapidly.
As we passed through the opening, I rested my head against Diarmuid's shoulder. In the safety of his arms my terror faded, and as my heartbeat calmed, our two hearts beat together for a few moments. And I suddenly knew, deep in my soul, that he was the reason I was here.
How did I not see this earlier? My sense of smell had been useful in locating Rhiwallon but there was little else I could contribute to Diarmuid's quest. But he was part of some pattern the fey intended to weave in my life. Or perhaps I was meant as part of his pattern. No matter. The fey intended we be together and they were determined to ensure it happened. So determined they cared little what form I was in.
Before I could think further on this revelation, I realised I was hot. Not merely uncomfortably warm but so hot that my skin burned. Sweat dripped down my back and over my belly, leaving my hair damp. My mouth was dry and sticky. As we reached the opening, the feeling of dread surged again. I whimpered and Diarmuid's arm tightened around me. Ahead of us, Owain stopped, his large frame blocking my view.
"What is it?" Diarmuid whispered.
I tried hard not to tremble. Owain stepped aside so we could see. Another cavern, even larger than the last. Not far ahead of us, the floor dropped away into a yawning crevice, a smoky haze obscuring its depths. It stretched all the way across the cavern, an insurmountable obstacle between this side and the other.
If I could have spoken, I would have begged Diarmuid to never let me go, but he set me down on the rocky ground. I chided myself. I was forgetting who I really was. I, Brigit, should not be intimidated by these events. My mother would be ashamed. I gave myself a good shake then strode forward. I peered down into the depths of the crevice, holding my breath for the stench smelled like rotten eggs months. The crevice was exactly what it seemed from Diarmuid's arms: inconceivably deep, hot, and smoky. I stepped back from the edge and it was well that I did, for a wave of heat surged up and blasted my face. I stumbled back, eyes and skin burning. A massive tongue of fire followed the heat and a low grumble shook the ground, throwing me off my feet.
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