Awakening the Gods

by Kristin Gleeson

  I nodded. “Balor. Poison. So now is the time for all good men to rise up.” I thought of the rebel song. “The West Awake.”

  “The West Awake,” she murmured.

  “So why do you need Smithy? I mean Goibhniu,” I said, hastily correcting myself.

  “Because he must forge the weapons that will defeat Balor. No one else can do that.”

  “So what’s the problem?” I suddenly thought of all the discarded blades and weapons that were hanging on the wall of his forge.

  “He won’t even talk to me. To us. He doesn’t know how much we need him. Every time Morrigan or I have tried to contact him and explain, he cuts us off. He rejects us.”

  “Are you certain that he doesn’t know how much you need him?” I asked cautiously.

  She studied me carefully. “Why, what do you know, what did you see when you were there with him the last few days?”

  I blushed, unsure what it was that I was thinking, or if I even wanted to give voice to any of it.

  She leaned forward. “Please. You have to tell me.”

  I wasn’t certain if it was her tone, her words, or the combination of the two, but I suddenly found myself saying, “In his forge, there were lots of blades lying around, incomplete. Some complete ones were hanging on the wall, though,” I added hastily. “And I mean, he made a blade when I was there and later, we made one together. They seemed fine. Perfect.”

  She looked at me thoughtfully. A moment later she smiled, her face filled with joy. “Really? Oh, Bríd, that’s wonderful news.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “Not Bríd, remember? Saoirse. I’m Saoirse.”

  She became still and slowly shook her head. “No, Bríd, there is no Saoirse. Saoirse was an invention, a glamour to put on you to protect you from Balor.”

  “Balor? Why would I need protection from him?”

  “So he wouldn’t go after you, hold you hostage. Because of your power, because of me, because of Goibhniu and everyone else who cares for you and loves you.”

  “But you said Bríd was dead.” My voice was flat, severe, reminding her of the details of her own tale and to prove her story false.

  “You were. But I brought you back.”

  I laughed then. Long and hard. “Let me guess. The Well of Slane. But, sorry, I’m forgetting, the Fomorians filled it with stones. Oh, and let’s not forget that no one knew where I was buried?”

  “Yes. All of that is true. And what is also true is that it has taken us this long to find out where they’d put you. A tomb, only recently excavated. Perfectly preserved. It took a bit of doing to get you from them.”

  “Let me guess, you used magic?” It was sarcasm now, colouring my words. Not the wittiest approach.

  “Yes. Of a sort. A glamour. Morrigan did it. She loves those kinds of things. She is a shapeshifter, after all. She posed as an expert. And with a van and some convincing explanations she spirited you away.”

  “Spirited me away? Really?” I didn’t know if she realised the word choice.

  She nodded. “And then we managed to get you up to the Well of Slane, and with the help of Diancecht and his son, we immersed you in the waters.”

  “And I miraculously came back to life?”

  “Well it wasn’t instant, but eventually, yes. And as I said before, I cleansed your mind, to protect you. Placed a glamour on you so that you looked different and younger. I arranged for you to be put in a boarding school and given experiences so that you could safely blend in with people, until the time was right.”

  “And now the time is right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what do expect for me to do?”

  “To help Goibhniu, to help us secure the magic treasures so that we can fight Balor on all levels.”

  I looked at her steadily. The tale had unfolded, and like any good seanchie she’d told it well. It had held my interest. It had all the qualities. Love, war, death, sorrow. She scored on all points. Ah, so she had.

  I rose. “Right, so. Thanks for that.”

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “To pack. I think it’s time to return to Dublin. My father’s will should be sorted enough that I should be able to move into the house.”

  16

  Saoirse

  It was easy enough to gather my clothes, shoes and other items and stuff them in my backpack. It was easy enough to leave the bedroom and go downstairs. The ease lessened and disappeared altogether when I reached the kitchen and found Anu waiting there.

  “Ah, Bríd, now. Won’t you give it some time? Let it settle on you. At least stay the night.”

  “Saoirse. I’m Saoirse. Not Bríd, or anyone else. I am not a goddess, or whatever you say I am and I have no power. I think, in view of that, it’s best I leave. I want no part in your fantasies, your conspiracy theories, or what you think is going on.”

  “Don’t leave now, please. At least have something to eat, first.”

  “No, thank you,” I said forcing the politeness. “I’d just as soon be on my way now.”

  I walked across the kitchen towards the door.

  “At least let me take you to the train station. Or even the village where you can take the bus into the city. There should be one along in about a half hour.”

  “No, no, you’re fine. I’ve ordered a taxi,” I said, lying. I had no idea how to find a taxi here. “I’ll meet him down the bottom of the road. He should be there by then.”

  “Bríd,” said Anu, her voice loud and firm. “That’s unnecessary. You can ring now and cancel. Let me take you.”

  “No.” I reached for the door handle and looked at her. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  I left then and it wasn’t easy.

  I walked down to the main road, trying to get my thoughts in order and at the same time get those thoughts out of my head. I put my earbuds in and began to listen to music on my phone, waiting for the lilting tones of Fidil 3 to get me out of my head and the reminders of the craziness I’d just encountered. I wouldn’t even dream of thinking of the hurt and betrayal that threatened to overwhelm me and push out all of the crazy scenes afterward. They were all crazy here, I told myself. Crazy, crazy. Smithy just as much. Who could act that way? Why had he rejected me? It seemed too bizarre to think that it was for the reasons Anu gave. Or whatever her name was. Anna. Smithy had seemed so sane, so down to earth. His craft and his music, no one who could play that well and create such beautiful objects could enter into Anna’s crazy ideas.

  “Saoirse!”

  I looked up, startled. I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts I didn’t realise I was passing Maura’s house.

  I gave her a wan smile. “Hello, how are you?”

  “More importantly, how are you?” She nodded to my backpack. “You can’t be leaving us, can you? It’s too soon.”

  “I’m afraid so. It’s time for me to go.”

  “Ah, no, stay. You’ve been great to have around.”

  “Thanks, Maura. It’s nice of you to say so, but I still have to go.”

  “What’s happened? What’s made you leave?”

  There was a gleam in her eyes, and the way she looked at me it was as though she understood everything. But there wasn’t any remote possibility that was true. Quirky as she was, I can only imagine what she would make of all that had happened in the past few hours.

  “It’s not Smithy, is it?”

  I stared at her. “Smithy? Why would you ask that?”

  She gave me a playful smile. “Well…a little birdie told me that you and he…became closely acquainted.”

  I snorted. “You need to tell your little birdie that it’s wrong and should keep his beak out of things.”

  She laughed. “Like that is it? Well, give him a few days. He’ll snap out of it. He can be a temperamental old bastard.”

  I shook my head. “I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need for it. It’s fine. Nothing happened and I won’t change my mind. I have to get back up to Dublin.”
/>
  “Oh, why’s that?”

  I sighed. “I have some matters to sort out. To do with my father’s death,” It was as good excuse as any.

  “Matters to sort out,” Maura echoed. “I suppose you do have matters to sort out.” She gave me a sly grin. “Maybe more than you expect.”

  I gave her a puzzled look then pasted a smile on my face. “Thanks for everything, Maura. I enjoyed meeting you and the time we spent together. Don’t make yourself a stranger if you’re ever in Dublin. You can always find me at the session in the Mangle Pit in Stonybatter.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I won’t be a stranger.”

  I nodded. “Well I have to get on. There’s a taxi waiting for me at the bottom of the road.”

  “Taxi? Where did you get a taxi at this time of day? Do you even know who drives a taxi around here?”

  I reddened, caught out. Maura laughed.

  “Just wait a moment. I’ll give you a spin. Don’t argue and I won’t either. We can even maintain a silent truce.”

  I sighed and waited, knowing that she made more sense than I would arguing against it. When I finally climbed into the car she only had a slightly amused expression on her face to show. I held my peace and the rest of my words on the journey down. The music was no longer remotely able to distract my thoughts. For some reason they returned to Smithy. Maybe it was Maura’s remarks calling up my emotions as though conjured by a demon. A demon that agitated and shook them, made the anger and then sheer rage come to the fore at the unjust and cruel manner he’d treated me. I felt used. Not just in body, but in every other way too. I would let the anger boil, I would let it help me get on that bus and take that train back to Dublin.

  Part II

  The West Awakes

  17

  Saoirse

  I put the key in the lock and listened to the mechanism turn. It was a satisfying feeling and I treasured it in a world that had lately given me so few satisfactions. I entered the house, went through to the lounge and put my bag on the floor. It was a mid-sized three bedroom Georgian house with high ceilings and plaster detailing. The decor was modern enough, though I wasn’t sure what the kitchen was like. Old fashioned, if I remembered right from the last time I was here.

  “This is amazing,” said Jilly, following behind me. “I had no idea you were so well off.”

  “I hardly know the place,” I said. “I think I’ve been here only a handful of times. It doesn’t feel like mine. It never has.”

  Jilly looked at me incredulously. “You’ve only been here a handful of times?”

  I shrugged. “I spent most of my time at boarding school. My father travelled a lot of the time.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Something in business. International developments or something along those lines. We never really talked about it. We never really talked.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Saoirse,” said Jilly. She came up and rubbed my shoulder. “That must have been hard.”

  I shrugged again. “I didn’t really know anything else. And we didn’t have much in common. He with his business and me with my music and English. He never really approved of the things I chose to do. Well, at least the few times he bothered to express an opinion.”

  “Well now you have this house and whatever else he’s left you. That’s not half bad to make up for all the previous years. No worries about rent anymore.”

  “Just the bills,” I muttered.

  I know I should have been glad, overjoyed that the probate had gone far enough that I was allowed to have the keys to the house so soon from the solicitor. And that, despite the adoption, it seemed as if I was entitled to it. As much as I was grateful to Jilly for putting me up for a few days, not to mention storing the things that I’d retrieved from what was no longer my flat, I would be glad to have my own place again.

  She nudged me. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll sort the rest of the will soon and you’ll have money to pay those bills. Besides, you can always let out the other two rooms. They’ll go for a price, no doubt about that.”

  I nodded, though I knew that it would be a while before I’d look for housemates. For as long as I was able, I would live on my own, enjoy the ease and comfort of only having to deal with my own idiosyncrasies and habits. And I needed this time on my own to find a way back to my old self, away from Smithy, away from all the craziness that had happened in Cork.

  The pain felt so fresh. I had to remind myself it had been only a week since I’d left. It was bound to be raw. I’d barely had time to catch my breath. The thoughts and images of him and our time together were still crowding my mind almost interminably. And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t fought it. I’d watched films on my tablet, I’d gone on walks and out for drinks with Jilly when she’d come home from work. I even went out looking for work, but had lost heart after half a day because I couldn’t focus.

  In the end I decided the best thing was to face it head on. To gather up the images and memories and go through them one by one and refute each in turn. Get out the ice cream, the cake or whatever else you were meant to do to get over an event. A person.

  “Come on,” said Jilly. “Let’s get the rest of your things from the car and then we’ll make a cup of tea. And after that I’ll help you unpack and settle in. How’s that sound?”

  I nodded. “Good. Fine.” Because that’s what it had to be. That’s what I would make it be.

  I stared out the window and watched Jilly’s car pull away, the taillights disappearing in the gathering dusk. She’d stayed longer than I expected and been more of a friend than I would have thought for someone who hardly knew me before I’d rung her up and asked if I could stay with her until I got the keys to the house. She’d been both surprised and happy that I had thought of her and I wondered what she’d initially thought about the fact that I had no other person to ask but her. My circle of friends had whittled down considerably after I’d left Trinity, and virtually disappeared once I got a job and they got, well, careers. Whether it was at a literary firm in London or writing for various magazines and even teaching, it took up their time and moved them into a new social realm in which I had no part.

  Why hadn’t I found a career? It was something I’d hadn’t fully questioned because my father and others made me feel so defensive about it. I had done well in my degree. Excellently in fact. Praise from my teachers. Encouragements to pursue different literary paths. But I had done nothing. Was it because I got more out of writing my poetry and playing music than I did the thought of spending endless time in an office, or in a classroom? Or writing journal articles, or writing for newspapers or even attempting a novel? Maybe I could write a novel now, I thought sourly. Recast that tale Anu told me.

  I pushed the thought away and scanned the road outside. The sun had gone and it was approaching dusk. I knew I should try and get something sorted for dinner, but at the moment, I had no great desire to. I watched a few people walk down the road, returning commuters, mothers with a child clutched in each hand. Or were they nannies? You wouldn’t know in this area of Dublin.

  I sighed and was just about to turn away when I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye, emerging from the shadows. It was them. The feckin’ Twa’ Corbies. They were moving towards the house. This house. A moment later, a large crow landed beside them and began to caw loudly. Startled, they moved back, staring at it. They looked at each other, turned around and retreated. The crow flew off.

  I watched the exchange, stunned and confused. These men, who I’d seen on and off throughout my life and whose appearance no one else seemed to take note of, leaving me to believe I somehow imagined them each time, had just been confronted by a large crow. Unless that was part of my imagination too, I thought sardonically. Or not. Because someone else had seen these men, I realised. Smithy.

  I pulled away from the window, angry that my thoughts had returned to him, even when I didn’t want them to. Even when I was reflecting on something that I had no in
tention of connecting with him. Why had he seen them? In fact, what was he doing talking to them? Having a conversation with them? I’d never come close enough, or seen them long enough to speak, let alone have a conversation with them.

  I shook the uneasy feelings from me. I didn’t want to pursue any path that was connected to Smithy, and most especially not that path. It prompted too many questions and uneasy theories. I’d had enough of that. I wanted my old life back. Even if it was working in a glorified coffee shop, living from month to month, at least I got to enjoy playing at the sessions, exchanging the banter there and at the coffee shop. I could count on that. It provided no strange circumstances. It was safe.

  But I hadn’t gone to a session since I’d returned. I hadn’t seriously looked for work in a coffee shop and now I had this house. It was a house that would generate bills, though, and I had no real income at the moment. The solicitor had promised to release some funds for me, but I had no idea when that would be. So there was the plan, presented to me. A plan that would see off those silly men with as much tenacity as that crow had.

  18

  Saoirse

  I let the door to the coffee shop close on my back, feeling the force of its pressure on me. It was like a spanking, a punishment for my lazy, irresponsible behaviour since I’d left uni. A punishment that had been meted out over the past several hours as I traipsed the streets of Dublin searching for a job. Well a job that I could manage. In the few places where I had got as far as putting in an application, I could tell by the looks on their faces when they saw that I had been let go from my previous job as a “barista” they really had no interest. I’d even tried to stretch the truth at one point, but I knew it would have been only a matter of time before they’d find out the reason I was fired. The “let go, my arse” look they gave me told me everything I needed to know about whether I’d get the job.