The sun had completely disappeared, leaving us in darkness except for the glow of the fire. Rhiwallon began passing around the sticks of skewered hare. For a moment, I hesitated, expecting Owain to cut the meat for me and drop it into my bowl. Then I remembered and reached for a stick. The meat was sweet and tender. When I was finished, I tossed the stick back into the fire and watched it crumble into ash.
The herb tea was ready and I wrapped a cloth around my hand to remove the pot from the fire. I portioned the tea into mugs and handed them around, then returned to my spot on the blanket. I wrapped my fingers around my mug, relishing the warmth as I waited for the tea to cool a little. Normally, I would either sit on Owain's lap or curl up in my basket and it felt strange to sit in front of the fire in my human form.
"Tell us a tale, Diarmuid," Rhiwallon said, her tone studiously casual.
Diarmuid flinched and shook his head. "I don't tell tales anymore."
"But you know how it works now, don't you?" she asked. "You figured out how to make them come true."
"To an extent," he said. "But there might be more parts to the puzzle. Other ways to bring them to life. I won't risk it."
"Then tell the right sort of tale," I said. "One that won't hurt anyone if it comes true."
Diarmuid's gaze flicked up to meet mine ever so briefly. He was tempted, I knew. It must hurt to feel like he couldn't tell tales anymore. After all, he had always expected barding would be his livelihood once he became accomplished enough. What would he do now?
"Try it," I said. "Keep your emotions in check, watch what you are thinking, and tell only a tale that won't hurt anyone. Learn how it really works."
If I was honest with myself, I wasn't encouraging Diarmuid solely for his own benefit. I wanted to hear a tale, something grand and adventurous. I had now tasted three of the four things I had always wanted. Danger, mystery, adventure. I had yet to experience romance but I could live with three out of four. My appetite wasn't dampened in the slightest. True, they weren't what I had expected. Instead of adventure being a glorious thing where I was filled with courage and fire and recklessness, it was wet and cold, dirty and hungry, and sometimes miserable. There were times I didn't know whether I would live through it. But it was also exhilarating and fabulous. My skin tingled and my feet itched to start walking, go somewhere, have another adventure. But I couldn't. It was time to resume the life intended for me. Time to go back to possets and charms, potions and cures. But perhaps the tales of a good bard might give me adventure and mystery and danger once more.
"I don't think so," Diarmuid said, at last. "Not tonight anyway."
55
Diarmuid
I AVOIDED BRIGIT as best I could on the journey home although I was always conscious of exactly where she was. Each night as I wrapped a blanket around me and stared up at the stars, I missed having Bramble's warm body beside me. The ache inside of me seemed much larger than the absence of a dog. From time to time, I considered approaching her but my cheeks heated at the very thought and I didn't know what I wanted to say anyway. It just seemed there was something between us left unsaid.
The four of us travelled together as far as Tors. Owain and Rhiwallon intended to branch off from there, heading to a larger town some days travel away. Although neither he nor Rhiwallon mentioned an intention to stay together, it seemed that was the case. I was sad to part ways with them. Owain wrapped me in his big arms, almost crushing my ribs with his hug. Rhiwallon surprised me with a quick kiss on the cheek. I blushed fiercely, remembering that the last time she had kissed me, my hands had explored her bare breasts. Brigit gave me an odd look.
Brigit took Rhiwallon aside and spoke to her quietly. She handed Rhiwallon a small packet and they hugged. I couldn't be sure but I thought Rhiwallon might have been crying.
"What did you give her?" I asked later.
Brigit's face was shuttered. "Nothing you need be concerned about."
Brigit and I departed from Tors on horses purchased at Owain's expense. One day, when I had money of my own, I would pay him back. The horses were somewhat old and not terribly fast but they were quicker than travelling on foot. We spoke little as the day passed although Brigit seemed to spend an awful lot of time glaring at me. I spent the hours concentrating on Ida's box. I caught myself questioning every thought, wondering whether it was my own or hers. I still didn't know whether she could hear my thoughts but in case she could, I was ensuring there would be nothing that would give her any power over me. How much of what I had thought was myself had really been Ida?
Despite everything, I found it hard to wish Ida away entirely. She had been my constant companion since my tenth summer, but I did regret bringing her to life, and I regretted that I hadn't tried to learn about my ability earlier. I realised I was sinking down into melancholy and quickly changed my line of thought. I couldn't afford to linger over thoughts like that anymore.
As we drew closer to home, the landscape became more familiar. The snow on the distant hills was melting and grass had started to grow in the fields. Birds circled high overhead, too high up to tell what species they were. I could smell just the faintest trace of a familiar scent that I had always associated with home.
We reached the start of the woods stretching all the way to the edge of Silver Downs and Brigit reined in her horse.
"There is where I leave you," she said, with another glare in my direction.
I stammered something incoherent. She rode away without another word.
"Wait," I called.
Brigit turned her horse and came back. She paused in front of me, one hand holding the reins, the other on her hip, her eyes flashing. I recognised that look.
"Why are you angry at me?" I asked.
"For a bard, you don't seem to know much." Her horse stomped and snorted, as eager to be away as she.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"How could you not know, Diarmuid? You were surprised when you saw me."
"I didn't know you were…" A woman, my mind supplied. The very same woman I was trying to find the courage to speak to all those weeks ago. "Human."
"What exactly did you think I was then?"
I must have looked like a fool, my mouth opening and closing uselessly. "I don't know," I said, eventually. "I just knew you were something else. Something more."
"And yet Owain had to point out even that much to you." Brigit's tone was bitter. "I would have thought all those tales might have taught you something."
"They did. I just didn't expect to find something straight out of a tale right in front of me."
Brigit gave me an incredulous look. "What has this whole journey been if not something straight out of a tale? You create a creature in your mind that somehow comes to life, one of our party gets abducted by a beast that most certainly shouldn't exist, we spend days searching bewitched tunnels, and answer a dragon's riddles. Is this not exactly like a tale? Even without what happened to me?"
"Well, yes, but…" It was clear there was nothing I could say that would make this better.
Brigit rolled her eyes.
"You could have tried to tell me," I said. "Why didn't you?"
My feelings were a confused mix. Hurt that the little terrier who had been my companion for weeks was not what she seemed to be. Surprise that she was really this fierce creature who glared at me until I wanted to sink into the ground. Amazement that it was really a woman with whom I had shared my darkest secrets and deepest hurts. Hope that perhaps, despite everything, there might be a tiny chance of a future for us.
"Why didn't I tell you, Diarmuid?" Brigit's tone rang with sarcasm. "Do you know how many times I tried? Every time I communicated with you, I was hoping you would realise I was no ordinary dog. And you know what? You never noticed. You were too busy being wrapped up in yourself and your quest. The noble bard who releases evil into the world and goes on a heroic journey to redeem himself and humanity."
"You make me sound pathetic. But I did release evil
into the world and I did have to do something about it."
"Yes, yes, I know." Brigit sounded tired suddenly, as if all of the fight was gone out of her and there was nothing else left. "You know what, Diarmuid, just go."
My heart fluttered anxiously. If I left now without saying what I needed to, I would never have the courage to try again. I took a deep breath as she started to turn her horse around. "Brigit, there's something I need to say."
She paused but didn't turn around. I took a deep breath. I had to do it.
"No," she said.
"But I have to—"
"I'm not interested." Her voice was calm and indifferent. "Whatever you want to say, it can go unsaid."
"No, it can't." I surprised myself but suddenly I couldn't leave without knowing I had at least tried.
She turned back to face me and I was struck by the lack of emotion in her face. She didn't care. Despite all we had been through together, Brigit didn't care about me. I flicked my horse's reins and fled. There was no point saying anything. She was right. There was nothing left to say. At least I hadn't humiliated myself by telling her that I thought I loved her. My eyes filled with tears and I dashed them away with an impatient hand. This would not be the homecoming I had hoped for, returning with Bramble, or Brigit, at my side.
Of course it won't be, Ida said. You didn't really think it would be anything like you imagined, did you? Oh, poor little Diarmuid, you really did. What a shame.
I ignored her taunts and redoubled my focus on keeping her box secure. Ida fought back, briefly, but seemed to have little fight in her yet. That would change. She would regain her strength and it would be harder to keep her locked away. But I would become stronger too, Fiachra had said. And with time and practice, it would be easier to keep Ida in her box. Maybe one day I would hardly even know she was there.
56
Diarmuid
THE SUN WAS already sinking by the time the horse brought me in sight of the Silver Downs lodge. Lamplight shone from the windows and I could just make out a stream of smoke from the chimney against the red-streaked sky. My family would be sitting down to eat soon. If I hurried, I might be home in time for dinner.
I anticipated a raucous greeting with my brothers crowding around and Mother fussing over me. There should be news by now of whether Caedmon had arrived safely at the campaign front and I would finally learn whether Grainne had been injured.
Would they find me changed? I didn't know how to account for my journey. Ida had been defeated, that was obvious. But they would expect she had been destroyed. How would I explain I had made her a part of me again? They would see only evil when they looked at me, Ida staring out through my eyes.
By the time I dismounted, my hands were trembling so hard, I could barely hold the reins. I led the horse into the stable and busied myself with rubbing her down and filling the grain and water bins. I knew well enough what Papa would say if he discovered I had gone inside without tending to my horse.
I approached the lodge, my heart pounding. Never before had I been nervous about entering my own home. Ivy was creeping up over the grey stone again now that the frosts had passed but otherwise the lodge looked the same as ever, from the outside at least.
As I reached the front door, I hesitated. What if it was locked? Should I knock? Wait for someone to come out? There was no reason for anyone to come outside until morning. I turned the knob and the door swung open with the smallest creak. A flood of warmth and home rushed out over me. Dinner, the smoky scent of a fireplace, a faintly astringent smell I had always associated with the house being cleaned. I was home at last. I strode in and made my way to the dining room.
Fiachra was the first to notice me as I stood in the doorway. He inclined his head very slightly towards me, almost a well done motion, and I nodded back. Next to him was Mother. She half stood as I entered and then paused with a hand held over her heart. She looked tired and worn and I regretted that I had caused her grief. Beside her sat Papa, reaching out his hand to her. He looked older than I remembered.
On Papa's other side was Eremon with Niamh beside him. The children were absent, likely already put to bed and watched over by a servant. Eremon's face was grave but Niamh was pale and her eyes wide. Eremon wrapped an arm around her, as if to protect her.
My eyes stung and for a moment I thought I might cry in front of all of them. Then Ida stirred. I slammed the lid back down on her box and locked away my emotions. My brothers were all there, all except for Caedmon. It was Eithne who was missing, her and Grainne.
"Where's Eithne?" I asked.
Mother blanched and fled the room. Papa rose but Fiachra stopped him with a hand on his arm and a few soft words. Papa slowly lowered himself to his seat while Fiachra followed after Mother.
"What happened? Where's Eithne?"
Silence stretched while my brothers all looked towards Papa. His mouth opened but nothing came out.
"She's gone away for a while," Eremon said finally.
Away? Eithne never went away. The look on Papa's face told me this was not the time for questions about my sister.
"Is there enough dinner for me?" I asked instead, sharpening my focus on Ida's box as she stirred again.
"Of course, son." Papa seemed relieved that this at least was a question he could answer. "Come, sit."
There were several spare chairs and I chose one next to Marrec. He said nothing, only passed me a bowl of new potatoes. I never expected him to say much and it was comforting to find that Marrec, at least, was the same as ever.
Someone handed me a platter of mutton and I served myself a large portion. The meal tasted exactly as it always had. The meat was juicy, the vegetables crisp and fresh — a far better meal than I had eaten for weeks.
There was silence at the table as we ate. Neither Mother nor Fiachra returned and Papa merely picked at his meal. My stomach clenched and my appetite fled. I caught the eye of Sitric, who sat opposite me.
"Have you started scribing yet?" I asked.
He flinched and almost dropped his mug. "Yes. It's… fine." He swiftly crammed a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.
As I looked around the table from brother to brother, they all avoided my eyes, and I finally realised what was wrong. They were scared of me. Scared that whatever had happened to Papa's brothers would happen to them too. I pushed away my half-eaten meal and stood, almost knocking over the chair in my haste.
"I'm going to get some sleep," I muttered.
My bedchamber looked the same as ever, a little dustier perhaps and somewhat musty. I flung open the window and leaned out, taking a deep breath of the evening air. The sun had fully set now and everything was shadows and darkness. Nobody had asked about my journey but perhaps Fiachra had already told them.
I took another deep breath of cold air and the faint scent of fire tingled in my nose. The moon was full, shining white and cold. Far beneath my second floor window was hard earth, grassy but devoid of rock or fence. I leaned out a little further. Would I die if I fell from this height?
A knock at the door interrupted my morose thoughts just as Ida roused. Fiachra didn't wait for an invitation. By the time I had closed the window, he was leaning against the wall.
"They're afraid of me, aren't they?" Bitterness edged my voice.
He met my eyes evenly. "They fear what they don't understand."
"I'm still me. This has always been a part of me. They just didn't know before."
"You need to show them."
"Haven't I already done enough?" I disliked the whine in my voice but was too tired to conceal it.
"In a way, you've done too much. And they fear what else you can do."
"Can she hear everything I say?"
"Does it make any difference?"
"I suppose not. Where is Eithne? And Grainne?"
"Eithne has her own destiny to fulfil. And she has gone to do it. Grainne too has her fate. They are together and, so far, they are safe enough."
"But where are
they?"
He didn't look away but I knew he wouldn't tell me.
"Is there any way to get rid of her?" Perhaps speaking Ida's name would have no effect but there was a chance, a small one, that it might give her strength. I would never again speak her name.
"In truth, Diarmuid, I don't know."
57
Ida
HOW DID HE trap me in here? I am stronger than he, yet here I am. Is this to be my world now? Confined to a plain wooden box somewhere inside Diarmuid's mind? I cannot survive like this. Not after I have become accustomed to the smells and sounds and sensations of the world outside. In here I can feel nothing. Not the gentle kiss of the breeze in my hair or the warmth of the sun on my arms. Not the crunch of ice under my feet or the wetness of water against my skin.
I am strangely weakened. I used so much energy to fight him that it seems there is nothing left. I am smaller, shrivelled, drained.
Before, I could roam his mind. Explore his thoughts and feelings. Now the box in which he has contained me blocks almost everything. I can still, if I concentrate, hear his thoughts, feel his emotions. But it is muted, distant, and it takes all of my energy.
Time passes. Or perhaps it doesn't. I sleep or maybe I stop existing for a while. When a little strength returns, I try to claw my way out of the box. But he too has grown stronger and he holds the lid down with a strength I can't yet match.
So I am trapped. But I will bide my time and conserve my strength. When I am stronger, I will escape again. And this time I will destroy him before he can contain me again.
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