Misfortune of Time

by Christy Nicholas

  She spent her days trying to master Fae magic, with mixed success. Étaín learned to train plants to grow the way she liked, but couldn’t for the life of her master the glamor magic. She made select animals understand her, but only slightly.

  Flidaisínn studied her one morning as Étaín worked to train a vine to grow in braids. The Fae girl stood with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.

  Étaín looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Am I not working the magic correctly?”

  “No, you’re doing well. But I had a thought this morning. Perhaps I‘ll make you an artifact.”

  Adhna joined them while eating a piece of yellow fruit. The juices dripped in his beard. “What sort of an artifact?”

  “I thought about a Growing Stone, but that might be too obvious. If she’s caught using it in the mortal world…”

  The older Fae bit several times into his fruit before he answered, chewing each bite with relish. “Hmm. Quite. Ah, perhaps we can disguise it!”

  “A hag-stone, perhaps? Many mortals carry hag-stones.”

  “The precise thing.”

  Étaín didn’t feel part of this conversation. She guessed what a Growing Stone might be, but didn’t want to make any assumptions. So few things were as they appeared in Faerie.

  Flidaisínn grabbed Étaín’s hand and pulled her up from the garden bed. “Come, let’s find your base stone!”

  With no other explanation, she dragged Étaín across the landscape. Relieved she’d at least had her shoes on, Étaín tripped after her with only a few stumbling steps before she got the rhythm of the run.

  They headed in a new direction, one Étaín hadn’t explored before. They didn’t travel toward the darker area of Fae, the parts Adhna had warned her about, nor toward the dangerous Faerie Court. Étaín sensed the bubbling mad laughter niggle at her mind at the thought of the Faerie Queen and her terrifying voice, but she pushed it aside and concentrated on where she placed her feet.

  The hills grew lower, and soon they approached almost flat land. The trees became bushes, and Étaín smelled water. Not just pond or river water, either. It seemed to be an ocean breeze. She knew that odor well, from countless nights spent watching the moon sparkle over the sea. The twinkling of the moonbeams on ocean waves had been a favorite sight in her youth. Perhaps that’s where she grew to love talking to the full moon.

  Flidaisínn slowed as they approached the shore. The water which lapped upon the black sand looked white as milk and yet translucent as any water. Étaín blinked several times to make certain she saw no illusion. Her companion laughed. “It’s not the ocean you know, but you realized that from the color. It’s an ocean still ruled over by Manannán mac Lir, an ocean full of water horses and sea serpents.”

  “Might we see one? I’ve always wanted to see a serpent.”

  She shook her head. “Alas, they are sleeping this season. Perhaps next time. However, I didn’t bring you here to see the sights or meet the creatures of the sea. I came to find you a stone for artifact-crafting.”

  “It sounds obvious, but what exactly will a Growing Stone do? And what sort of stone must we find?”

  Her friend stared at her. “Have you never seen a hag-stone before, child? What do they teach humans these days?”

  “A stone with a hole in the middle? Certainly, I’ve seen one. They’re wish-stones. Something to hold for good fortune. They aren’t truly magic, are they?”

  With an abrupt shake of her head, Flidaisínn said, “No more than good wishes are. Still, there is always some magic in a strong belief. However, this one will hold true magic, should you use it properly. It will help you grow plants beyond your natural talent, such as it is.”

  After some searching, Étaín held up her discovered stone. Flidaisínn approved, and they returned to the cottages at a more sedate pace.

  With Adhna’s help, Flidaisínn enchanted the stone and placed it in Étaín’s hand. “Keep this safe and secret, Étaín. Should any of your mortal zealots discover its true nature, you might be judged poorly in their eyes.”

  Étaín nodded and held the now warm stone. The surface seemed smooth against her palm. Sparkles of green and blue glinted in the non-light, casting faint rainbows on her hand. She then returned to her work in the gardens, using the stone to help her efforts.

  After an arduous day of practice, she slept deeply. However, the queen’s voice cut through her rather pleasant dream of her third husband, and she bolted upright, awake and panting.

  She’d gotten no rest. In fact, she’d grown wearier than before she slept. She rubbed her hands against her face several times to wipe the fatigue away, but it did little good. A splash of cold water helped, as did the sweet green apple she ate. When she emerged from her cottage, Adhna and Flidaisínn had gone. The enormous black raven perched on Adhna’s roof and cawed to her.

  “And a good morning to you, Tawnith. Will Adhna be back soon?” Not that morning, or night, or noon existed here. It was just… now.

  He fluttered his wings and shook his head. She sighed and cast about for something to do. She felt reluctant to practice her magic lessons, as futile as they’d become, without one of the Fae nearby. Just one twisted disaster with her own poor abilities would be too much.

  Instead, she retrieved a basket she had been making from dried reeds. The reeds didn’t have the normal beige color from her realm, but instead a rich honey-color, almost like a brilliant sunset. She’d found several in varying shades, and looked forward to how the basket would have graduated shades when finished.

  She bent over her task, concentrating fully on the project. When a voice hummed in her ear, she jumped and spun around, looking for the source.

  A Fae man stood, with snow-white skin and ink-black hair. He smiled with ragged teeth and hummed again. “You are an interesting pet, indeed. Adhna chose well, I think. Who knew the old one had such a discriminating palate?”

  He stepped closer to her, his hand out, almost touching her shoulder. Red, flaking paint covered his pointed nails. Mindful of Adhna’s admonition, she backed up as he approached. With a glance to Tawnith, she asked, “Who are you? Adhna should be back soon.”

  He laughed, a sound like salt upon raw nerves. “He will not be back soon. I have made certain of that. Will you not let me touch you, human girl-child? I should like to discover how tasty your skin is.”

  Étaín shivered and backed up several more steps, holding her half-finished basket up like a shield. “I do not wish for you to touch me.”

  “But I shall not hurt you, pet. Not much, at any rate. I want to taste you. You would grow to enjoy it. You look temptingly sweet.” His smile showed even more teeth, spiked and with more flaking red on the tips. Her heels splashed, and she realized she had backed up to the pond. She’d become trapped.

  A caw from above made her hope against hope Adhna had returned, but she spied Tawnith unfurling his wings. The sound echoed across the glade and made the Fae creature stop inching forward, but only for a moment.

  He gave the bird a half-smile. “Protest all you like, raven. You know well you cannot stop me.”

  Tawnith flew away, and Étaín sincerely hoped he went to fetch either Adhna or Flidaisínn.

  She repeated her statement with all the confidence and strength she could muster. “I do not wish for you to touch me.”

  The Fae frowned, his brow furrowed. He cocked his head as if listening to the wind. His face twitched several times with jerky, abrupt movements. “But I can show you all manner of pleasure, little human. All I need is one touch. Wouldn’t you like to know pleasure?”

  Every fiber of her being told her to shout no; to run away and save herself. At the same time, the urge to say yes, and to the devil with all caution, grew almost overpowering. That gibbering part of her mind which became terrified beyond belief screeched, turning her bowels to liquid and screaming at her to flee in peril of her soul.

  Paralyzed by indecision, she swallowed and stared at the Fae. With one redde
ned nail, he traced her chin. The nail didn’t touch her, but her skin prickled into goosebumps and her breath grew shallow and ragged. His presence increased her desire for him, a desire not of the mind, but a visceral need of the body, a desire she had no control over. Warmth bloomed from her belly, tingled below, and she closed her eyes and prayed that God might save her from this peril.

  The laugh which echoed across the glade sounded harsh and musical at the same time. “You call upon your God? Here? Do you actually expect him to answer? Your dead God has no power here, human child. You are alone and bereft of your protectors. It is so much easier if you simply say yesssss.”

  Another nail traced her arm, around the elbow, along her forearm, and along each finger. It still did not touch her, but her primitive reaction became stronger than mere physical touch. She quivered with horror and desire too strong to define.

  With clenched teeth, she steeled her quavering spine and said for the third time, “I do not wish for you to touch me.”

  The howl of frustration which swept by blew her hair like a gale storm. She closed her eyes against the onslaught. The wind whipped past her into the pond, the trees, and the whole glade. Leaves and flowers plastered against her face in the storm and when she finally dared to open her eyes, the Fae had gone. Vanished like a puff of smoke, with no trace or proof of his presence.

  Étaín collapsed where she stood, a pile of bones and skin with no energy. Her defiance had drained all power from her, physically and mentally. She became aware when someone approached, but had no strength to open her eyes to see if the mad Fae had returned. However, her soul eased when Adhna’s unmistakable cough echoed across the pond.

  “Étaín? Étaín? Tawnith pulled me away from a most urgent matter with definite prejudice… Étaín? Oh, my dear, my dear, my dear. What has happened to you?”

  Gently but firmly he lifted her from the soggy pond bank. Her clothing dripped, and still, she couldn’t move a muscle. She shivered in abject terror and mute paralysis. He carried her into her roundhouse and laid her upon her cot.

  “Tsk. I’ll have to remove your clothing, Étaín. You are quite soaked and muddy. Whatever possessed you to fall asleep in the pond? It’s a quite silly task, to be certain. Here, now, a clean léine is right here. Can you lift your arms? Dear me. What in the name of Danu happened to you today?”

  Étaín tried to speak, tried to warn him of Ammatán’s visit, but no sound emerged from her parched throat. She only croaked, which caused Adhna to tsk several more times and leave, returning with a waterskin. “Drink, child. You’re quite dry. No, swallow first. Now drink again. Very well, now you may talk.”

  She still had difficulty forming the words. Her mind had been packed in cotton. “It was… a Fae…”

  “What? What? What Fae? What are you talking about, girl?”

  Flidaisínn’s musical voice cut over Adhna’s querulous tones. “Do be quiet and let Étaín speak, Adhna. In your own time, my dear. What did the Fae look like?”

  Étaín swallowed and tried once again. “He had wh-white skin. Black hair. Ragged teeth. He … terrified …” She wiped at her tears, but they were too much for her weak efforts. Flidaisínn handed her a small cloth and Étaín mopped them away. Her chest still heaved with anguish and terror.

  Adhna swore. “Blood and iron! Ammatán.”

  Flidaisínn nodded. “It could be no other. Did my brother touch you, Étaín? Anywhere?”

  She shook her head, wiping her face again with the now-soaked cloth. “I told him three times I didn’t want him to touch me. He didn’t care for that.”

  Adhna laughed so loud the thatch shook. “No, I can imagine he did not! You did exactly right, child! Precisely what you should have done. Three times, no less! Well done, well done indeed. Here, you need some calming, I think.”

  The older Fae placed a hand on Étaín’s shoulder. The warmth of healing magic flowed through his hand and into her blood, and Étaín relaxed with the delightful release. She hadn’t realized how tense her entire body had become until it was gone.

  Flidaisínn narrowed her eyes and frowned. “As amusing as this is, it complicates matters.”

  Étaín’s voice came more easily now. “Complicate matters how?”

  His laugh now a rueful chuckle, Adhna said, “Indeed it does. I’m afraid your sanctuary here must come to an end. If Ammatán is sniffing after you, and if you’ve angered him, his first action will be to inform the queen.”

  Étaín’s throat closed again in fear. The Faerie Queen. He would complain to the Faerie Queen. She retreated from her fear, into a dark corner of her mind. It took Adhna shaking her several times to re-emerge from her haven. Some terror still screamed in a hidden corner of her mind. She suffered the hideous voice within her soul, and yet, with Adhna’s help, she learned to shut it away from her waking thoughts.

  “Étaín, wake, now! We will need to take you back into your world. Do you understand? Gather what you’ll need. Quickly now!”

  Still in a daze, Étaín gathered clothing, her brooch, the bronze mirror, and whatever other small pieces she’d gathered over her time in Faerie. How long had she been here? The days melded together. Had it been days? Certainly. A fortnight? Moons? Possibly.

  Her stupor did not clear before Flidaisínn drew her from the roundhouse. “Adhna, go to the Court. Make certain there is no action called for yet. If you need to, distract them. I’ll get her to safety.”

  Safety. Such a deceptive word. Safety. There is no safety this side of the grave. There is no safety in this world or the next. She would never be safe. There would always be danger from men, from women, from Fae, from life.

  Étaín imagined she’d been running for her entire, long life. She grew tired of running. For one, mad instant, she considered planting herself in place, refusing to move. Let the mad Fae come for her. Let him rip out her soul and taste of her flesh. She no longer cared. At least it would mean peace.

  “No, it would not, Étaín. Submission to Ammatán’s twisted desires would never mean peace. He is a creature who enjoys torment and pain, not a quick death. Do not deceive yourself into complacence with him, ever.”

  “What… what would he do to me? Why?”

  “It is best you cannot imagine, Étaín. Truly. Trust me on this. As to why… he was not always thus.” The Fae girl shivered herself. “Once, he was a sweet young Fae, given to idealism and delight. That all changed many years ago. His story is not mine to tell.”

  Étaín swallowed and nodded. “Where will you take me?”

  “I have contacts with a ringfort in the west. I can take you there and get you a position in the kitchens. It won’t be your own farm, and you will be a servant, but you will be anonymous and safe. It is a lonely place, but Ammatán is not good at tracking humans in their world.”

  Nodding, Étaín shouldered her bag. “I’m ready.”

  PART V

  Chapter 11

  Cathair Chonaill, late summer, 1073AD

  Étaín looked up at the looming walls, several times the height of a tall man. The limestone walls loomed massively, jutting out of the landscape, rising on a broad hill and offering an unimpeded view of the surrounding lands.

  None approached this place with secrecy.

  Flidaisínn squeezed her hand, and she remembered to breathe. The Fae girl had told her over eighteen winters had passed since she had lived in the mortal realm. She had never been this far west, to this barren place far from anyone. No one would recognize her. After taking a deep breath, she nodded to Flidaisínn. Étaín was ready.

  “There is a woman who works in the kitchens. She is mortal, but owes me a favor. I shall introduce you and leave you in her care. You can cook well, so your tasks should be easy to learn.”

  “Does this woman know my nature? Or yours?”

  Flidaisínn shook her head. “Not yours, no. As far as she knows, you are a plain mortal with no magical talents at all. I did not explain why I helped you, and you can tell her there is a geis
on telling anyone. It should be enough explanation for her.”

  Flidaisínn led her into the wide eastern gate and through the thick walls. The area inside looked enormous, larger than any ringfort she’d been in, almost as big as the abbey grounds. She noticed very little wear and tear on the walls or the structures inside. Several looked rectangular like the Ostmen houses, rather than the normal roundhouses. Churches had adapted the shape, but she’d never seen Gaelic living quarters built so.

  Well over two hundred people must live in this fort, and more so during celebrations. They passed a bakery, smithy, and a jeweler. The stink of the tanner proved the workshop stood downriver and outside the fort.

  The main hall loomed huge, as befitted the place, but they didn’t go inside. Instead, the Fae girl led her around to the back, where the kitchen garden lay.

  And what a garden! Besides the expected leeks, garlic and onions, celery, kale and rosemary, Étaín saw radishes, mint, maybe some bog myrtle, and dill. Many more herbs arrayed behind those, but she couldn’t readily identify them without closer examination. Did she see sorrel? And betony?

  She’d just discovered a treasure-trove, a true wealth of ingredients which she ached to play with. Airtre had been so stingy with his resources, she’d never been able to cultivate the rarer, more expensive herbs.

  The small bit of magic she’d managed to learn from Flidaisínn would help her with growing things. She hadn’t mastered it by any stretch of the imagination, but her small success should be useful.

  A creak of wood snapped Étaín out of her reverie, and she spun to discover what had made the odd sound. She had to shift her gaze down to see an older woman sitting on a backed stool on what looked like sled runners. The younger woman who had pushed her out into the garden nodded once and returned to the nearby roundhouse. From the sounds inside, it must be the kitchen.

  Flidaisínn clapped her hands. “Searlait, there you are! I began to despair of finding you. I have a young woman to help you. Meet Étaín. She comes highly recommended by both me and Adhna.”