Muse

by Kylie Quillinan

  "What is it?" Owain asked. His face was ruddy and his shirt was drenched in sweat. He clutched Rhiwallon's limp body to his chest and I wished it were me there instead of her.

  "There are tales of such places," Diarmuid said, "where the ground parts and shakes, where fire and flames leap up from below. Sometimes, the fire pours out like ale flows from an overfilled mug."

  Yet within the boundaries of the fey lands, things might not be what they seemed. The heat on my face and the burning in my lungs seemed fierce and real but this might prove to be our exit if we trusted enough to ignore the illusion and walk over the chasm.

  "What do we do?" Owain asked. "Can we go back?"

  Diarmuid shook his head. "Not if I know anything about the fey's rules. If we don't continue, they might well snatch Rhiwallon away again. We have to keep moving forward and let the fey take us where they will."

  The rising steam shifted and we now saw a rocky bridge. Its tenuous span passed from one edge of the gaping hole in the ground to the other, stretching right across the cavern. There was no visible means of support and it would likely crumble the moment someone stepped foot on it.

  Diarmuid nodded towards it. "That's our way out."

  The words from Titania's rhyme already ran through my mind. One may pass the fiery depths and only once may go.

  "A trap," Owain said.

  Another ground tremor was accompanied by the rankness of rotting eggs. The stench wormed into my lungs and I felt like I was choking.

  Diarmuid held his hand over his nose. "There's always a way through the tasks set by the fey. We have to think."

  "One may pass and only once," Owain said. "Clear enough. Go. We'll wait here."

  Diarmuid glared at him. "Nobody is staying behind. We came in here together and we leave together. We just have to figure out what we're missing. There's a way out."

  The answer seemed obvious to me. Owain could carry all of us. His presence was no accident any more than mine was. But how could I tell them? Owain would listen but not understand. Diarmuid would understand but not listen. My tail drooped.

  Diarmuid's face showed determination. He was considering crossing the bridge with the intention of seeking help for the rest of us. The ground trembled and grumbled, and I was nearly thrown off my feet. My mind spun as I slunk after Diarmuid and Owain. I couldn't think of a single way I might convey the solution. I had to stop Diarmuid before he stepped onto the bridge. I barked, short and sharp. They turned to look at me.

  "What is it, girl?" Diarmuid asked, a distant look in his eyes.

  Owain met my eyes. I held his gaze and he slowly nodded. "Bramble wants us to listen."

  Diarmuid looked out at the bridge. "There's got to be another way around."

  "Bramble knows it," Owain said.

  "Huh?" Diarmuid shot him a puzzled look. "What? She's just—"

  Owain cut him off, but I knew what Diarmuid had been about to say and my heart burned. "We need to listen to Bramble."

  Diarmuid shook his head. "Owain, we don't have time for this. We've got one chance. There has to be another way across."

  Owain still held my gaze and now he nodded at me. "Go on, Bramble."

  Frustration mounting, I barked again. Why would the fey send me on this journey in such a useless form? Surely they foresaw this. They knew that at some point, I would desperately need to speak.

  Diarmuid sighed. "I don't think now is the time—"

  "Course now is the time." Owain's voice, although placid as ever, was underlaid with tension. "Bramble needs to tell us something and we need to listen."

  Diarmuid opened his mouth to argue but Owain stood his ground.

  "You're a bard," he said. "You must know tales where things like this happen."

  "Things like what?"

  "Folk trapped in other forms."

  Diarmuid looked at him blankly and Owain motioned towards me. Diarmuid's mouth opened and closed. "She… I found her… She's just…"

  My heart shattered into a million pieces. After all the time Diarmuid and I had spent together, all the secrets he had confided in me, he still had no idea. I had hoped that perhaps somewhere deep inside, he suspected there was more to me than there seemed. That he would understand once he finally let himself see.

  Owain shrugged, adjusting his grip on Rhiwallon who still hung, unresponsive, in his arms. "P'rhaps I'm wrong. I'm just a simple man. Seems to me a bard would know more about these things than me."

  Diarmuid eyed me closely and I met his gaze, not trying to hide the hurt flaring in my eyes. It wasn't like he would see it anyway. Owain would though. If his arms weren't full of Rhiwallon, he would have given me a comforting rub and some soft words. But it wasn't Owain I wanted to comfort me.

  As Diarmuid looked me in the eyes — really looked at me for the first time — I saw his disbelief and yet also the tiniest spark of doubt. He was examining himself, wondering whether it was true, whether he might have missed some clue to my Otherworldly state. But mostly, he simply didn't believe. Eventually he shook his head.

  "We don't have time for this." His tone was conciliatory. "The longer we spend in here, the stronger Ida becomes. Whatever you think Bramble may or may not be, what we need to worry about right now is finding a way out of here."

  The look Owain gave him was the closest to disgust I had ever seen on the big man's face. Then he turned his back to Diarmuid and looked right at me. "Tell us, Bramble."

  Diarmuid sighed and I knew he probably rolled his eyes but I tried hard to ignore both him and the hurt in my heart. How could I convey the idea of carrying us? A horse. Horses carry people. In my mind, I saw a horse stretch out its neck. It shook its mane and extended a foreleg before prancing around. I tried to copy its action but my body was all wrong. My neck didn't stretch elegantly like a horse's and I probably looked like I was shaking water off myself, not shaking a mane. When I extended one of my front legs, it didn't seem to bend the way I wanted it to and my prancing made Diarmuid raise his eyebrows as if I had suddenly lost my mind.

  Owain nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

  Diarmuid's eyes went blank. He wasn't even paying attention any more. My heart plummeted. How else could I tell them? My gaze landed on Rhiwallon, still held firmly in Owain's arms. Even now, after bearing her for so long, he showed not the slightest sign of tiredness. That gave me an idea.

  I trotted over to Owain and stood beside him, arching my back as if he was lifting me with a hand beneath my chest. He looked down at me and waited, his face patient. I stood up on my back legs, front paws resting on his knees like I did when I wanted to sit on his lap, and still Owain merely stared. Diarmuid wasn't even watching.

  "Keep going, Bramble," Owain said. "What else can you show me?"

  I voiced my frustration with a bark and Diarmuid glanced at me.

  "She wants you to pick her up," he said absently, before turning back to contemplate the bridge.

  I barked again — yes, yes! — and comprehension filtered into Owain's eyes.

  "Clever Bramble!" he said.

  I let my tongue hang out, panting a little.

  "Don't you see, Diarmuid," Owain said. "That's the solution. We can all cross the bridge."

  Diarmuid spun around. "What?"

  "Bramble figured it out."

  Diarmuid's face showed brief incredulity before he schooled it to politeness. Perhaps it was better I was a dog than a woman, for at least in this form I was under no illusion as to my future with Diarmuid. It simply didn't exist.

  "I'll carry you across," Owain said. "All of you, all at once."

  "One may pass the fiery depths and only once may go," Diarmuid said. He nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, it could work."

  Owain smiled down at me and his plain face looked quite handsome. He might not recognise me for what I truly was but at least he knew I was more than I seemed.

  "Well done, Bramble," Owain said.

  "I suppose Bramble gave us the key, by asking you to pick her up," Diarmuid sai
d. "We would have figured it out sooner or later."

  I raised my lips and snarled at him. Diarmuid, of all people, should have been the first to know. Instead, it was Owain with his simple mind and his open heart who was willing to listen.

  Diarmuid raised his eyebrows in surprise. He extended a hand towards me, his face cautious. "Bramble, take it easy, girl."

  I snarled again and turned my back on him. I sat, the cavern floor warm beneath my rump.

  "Leave her, Diarmuid," Owain said. "You can't fix it 'til you see the truth."

  "See what truth?" Diarmuid asked, a frustrated edge in his voice.

  "Look at her," Owain said gently. "Really look at her.

  I didn't need to look back over my shoulder to know that Diarmuid didn't so much as even glance at me. His attention was already focused again on the bridge.

  38

  Diarmuid

  MY SOUL FINALLY felt the truth of Owain's words even as my eyes saw only the familiar scruffy terrier. Shame and utter disappointment welled up in me as I turned back to face the bridge.

  I was the bard, the one who knew the ancient tales. Here was one living an ancient archetype of tale and I had never even noticed. It should have been me who recognised Bramble first. Not Owain, whose occupation called not for delicate words, filled with symbolism and meaning and truth, but rather brute force and the delivery of blood and death. I heard Titania's words again: One will bear another's coat until the final round.

  "It's Bramble, isn't it?" I said. "The riddle. The one who bears another's coat."

  Owain barely glanced at me. He shrugged.

  "So what is she?" I muttered, eying Bramble who sat with her back to me. "Human? Fey? Is she sent to spy on us or to aid us?"

  Bramble huffed but didn't turn to face me. Owain scowled and shame coloured my cheeks. Bramble had never given me any reason to doubt her and, indeed, hadn't she deciphered the riddle's clue to crossing the chasm?

  "We should go," I said. My mind was all awhirl and I didn't know what else to say.

  In silence, the three of us stepped up to the place where the bridge began and my already-doubtful heart sank. The bridge was barely a handspan across, a continuation of the same rocky floor we had traversed for so long. It looked as if the living rock had simply grown and stretched from one side of the chasm all the way across to the other. There was no visible means of support and the rock was so thin it could not possibly hold even Bramble's slight weight.

  Owain still carried Rhiwallon as easily as if she weighed no more than Bramble but was he strong enough to carry all three of us across? The bridge must be two hundred paces or more. And what if the tongues of fire rose up again? There would be no escape.

  "I don't think this is possible," I said. "There must be another way across."

  "You can climb onto my back. Bramble will have to sit on Rhiwallon." Owain's voice was calm and certain. He nodded towards the terrier. "Lift her up."

  I was slightly reassured that Owain at least thought this would work. If I could have thought of another option, anything at all, I would have suggested it but my mind was blank. I felt a deep certainty that this was the solution Titania intended us to find.

  Bramble trembled as I grasped her around the middle. If Rhiwallon panicked, she would knock Bramble right off her lap. Under other circumstances, I would have given Bramble a gentle stroke or said something comforting but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I released her abruptly, almost dropping her onto Rhiwallon.

  With Rhiwallon and Bramble in his arms, Owain planted his feet wide apart and waited for me to gain purchase on his back, between his pack and Rhiwallon's bow. My first two attempts resulted in hard landings on the rocky floor. With both tailbone and pride bruised, my third attempt was more successful and I managed to clamber up high enough up to wrap my arms around Owain's neck. My legs grasped his waist tightly.

  Owain shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on Rhiwallon. If he was nervous, he did not quiver, but was as sturdy as ever. He stepped right up to the chasm. I felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. Then he placed one foot on the narrow bridge.

  I held my breath, heart pounding wildly, as Owain leaned forward. His muscles tensed beneath me and he hesitated, testing the bridge's strength. The moment seemed to last forever. Finally, he stepped forward. Now that he had committed to the crossing, he had no option other than to keep going until he reached the other side. If not, he may as well throw us all over the edge right now. Over the chasm the heat was even fiercer. It flooded up from the depths, the air so hot it almost burned my face.

  Owain strode confidently across the bridge, carrying four lives with every step. I kept my gaze locked on the far side of the chasm, not daring even the smallest glance down for fear I would panic and lose my grip. If I let go, Owain couldn't catch me, not without dropping Rhiwallon and Bramble, and they were both precious to him. Certainly more precious than I. I stared at the end of the bridge, praying with every step that Owain would have the strength to get us there.

  Halfway across, he wobbled briefly before regaining his balance. I tightened my grip on his neck a little too much and his shoulders twitched as he started to gasp for air. I forced my fingers to relax and he was able to breathe again. We crept towards the end of the bridge with excruciating slowness. I was aware of every beat of my heart and of every breath Owain took. He laboured now, drawing in big gulps of air and his neck gleamed with sweat. My limbs began to shake with the effort of holding on and the heat made my head spin.

  We were barely a dozen paces from safety when a roar shattered the air. Images flashed through my mind: griffins, harpies, banshees. Owain's foot slipped and he teetered. Moments passed and my heart seemed to stop beating as I clung to his back. In my mind, I saw the four of us plunging down into the chasm. The image was so vivid that it took several moments before I realised we weren't plummeting towards the bottom after all.

  Owain continued, step by step, bringing us steadily closer to the other side. A muscle in my thigh developed a cramp and the prospect of waiting even another few moments became almost unbearable. It took every scrap of my willpower to hold on as Owain made those last perilous steps. As his foot touched solid safety, my leg began to spasm. Owain stepped off the bridge as I slid down his back and tumbled onto the rocky surface, landing mere finger widths from the edge.

  He crouched with a grunt to deposit Rhiwallon, still insensible, on the ground. Bramble tumbled off Rhiwallon's lap, trembling convulsively, tongue hanging out as she panted. Owain sat, abruptly, beside Rhiwallon's prone form, his legs splayed out in front of him. His shirt was drenched with sweat and he raised his shaking hands to cover his face.

  I rolled onto my hands and knees and scurried away from the edge, then lay on my belly on the warm rocky floor. Right now, it was all I could do to lie here. I could not have done what Owain did, even if I had the physical strength. Only the tremble in his hands now betrayed how terrified he had been.

  "What was that noise?" I asked. "It sounded like…"

  In truth, I didn't know what it sounded like but I didn't need to identify the creature to know danger lurked nearby.

  And it made me think of another winged beast: the raven I had dreamed of for so many years. Ebony feathers, beady eyes, midnight-dark blood glistening on its beak. Perhaps as I drew closer to a confrontation with Ida, I also came nearer to discovering the meaning of the raven.

  Bramble stumbled over to Owain. She licked him on the knee and gazed up at him. Owain met her eyes and it seemed some wordless communication passed between them. How could I have ever thought of Bramble as mine? I had often fallen asleep at night imagining myself roaming the fields of Silver Downs, creating my tales while Bramble ran at my side, jumping streams and scrambling onto rocks to find a sunny place to nap. It had been many days since I had considered trying to find her previous owner, but perhaps staying with me was never her intention. I had no claim over her. For reasons known only to her, Bramble had decided to journ
ey with me this far. It was clearly Owain she was fond of. Owain she would depart with once this was over. Perhaps it was better that way for I likely wouldn't survive the coming confrontation with Ida. Still, it was like a little piece of my heart had crumbled away. I scrambled gracelessly to my feet, my thigh muscles still spasming.

  "We should keep moving," I said. "I would prefer not to wait until whatever creature made that sound arrives."

  Owain's hauled himself to his feet. He winced and held his shoulders oddly as he gathered Rhiwallon up again.

  "Are you hurt?" I asked.

  He shook his head but didn't meet my eyes. The roar came again, ringing through the cavern. Was it a sound of challenge? Of alarm?

  "Let's go." I turned to the opening at the far end of the cavern. "Maybe this path will lead outside."

  I stepped forward, feeling more alone than I had since the day I first found Bramble in the woods. Behind me, Owain followed, bearing Rhiwallon. Bramble trotted beside him. When I reached the opening, the tunnel stretched ahead of me, dark and ominous, smelling of damp and something I couldn't identify, like a cross between a wild boar and the new sparks from a tinder.

  "Diarmuid?" Owain spoke quietly and I heard both hesitance and exhaustion in his voice.

  I took a deep breath. "Let's go."

  "We're right behind you."

  We had been walking for only moments when I spotted light up ahead.

  "I think the tunnel's ending," I said.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white near the ground. Bramble, moving ahead of me.

  "Bramble, wait," I hissed. "It might not be safe."

  A sniff of disgust.

  I trudged faster. I could not let her go alone into unknown danger. Not now that I knew. We reached the end of the tunnel together and entered a small cavern illuminated by clean, white light. There were three doors.

  Like the bridge, the doors belonged to this place, melding into the surrounding rock as if they had grown out of it. The doors were identical: smooth panels of wood stretching from side to side, arced at the top, their sides fitting cleanly into the rocks without hinge or latch.