He smiled at her. “Yes,” he said, softly. “Not so bad.”
The boat jolted slightly and he looked up to check, though he knew what had happened, he was still just hoping it wasn’t time. But it was. Time was taking them now. They’d hit shore.
Slowly, he rose up in the boat and steadied it against the bank. Bríd sat up, and he thought of her now as Bríd. If only it gave him the courage and will that he needed. He stepped up on the bank. This “if only” joined the other “if onlys” he’d accumulated.
Bríd started to rise up and reach for his shoulder, but he stopped her.
“No,” he said. “Stay in the boat.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean? Are you returning to the boat?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m staying here, but you have to go back to the other bank. To the world we just came from.”
“No,” she said, her brows lowering. “No. I’m going with you.” She started to get out of the boat but he pressed firmly on her shoulder.
“Bríd, you can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous. Balor will look for us both here first. He’ll know that’s where we’ll go.”
“He can come here?”
“Yes. With help from those who have Tuatha de Danann blood, yes.” He kept his voice neutral, even. He wouldn’t tell her any details. “But he can’t access Time Between Time. Only those of Tuatha de Danann blood can.”
“Then return with me to the other side. Time will have moved on enough that he will think we’re gone. We can go north, away from Cork. We could travel to another country.”
He shook his head. “No. This is the safest way. For me to lead him away from you. He would know that I would never willingly leave you once I found you.”
“Then why are you leaving me now?”
The pain and fear in her voice almost broke him. Especially the pain. Was it for him, did she have enough of him woven in her soul still that it could make her feel pain at the thought of losing him?
“Because it’s best,” he said. “Because I have to.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. I didn’t save you last time, but I can do it now.”
“I don’t care about then. I don’t even remember it, so it doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice rising, urgent.
“It does matter, Bríd. I let you go, and I never went to you even when I knew I should. And then when they told me you were dead it broke me, hollowed me out, so that I was nothing. I’ve been nothing for too long. Until now.” He looked at her, pleading in his eyes. “I have to do this, Bríd. Not just for you, but for me, too. For us.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she finally nodded. Slowly, she sat down in the boat. Smithy leaned over her and kissed her on the lips, sliding his hand around the back of her head. It was a bittersweet moment for him, her lips so soft and willing, so tender and full. Eventually, he pulled away and stroked her hair. After one final kiss to her head, he pushed the boat off with all his love for her tucked inside it, and he prayed to all the gods and Anu that it would be enough.
25
Saoirse
Once I hit the bank I crawled out of the boat, a Lady of Shalott returned, bedraggled and heartbroken, the mirror assuredly cracked, a curse definitely come upon me. I felt a wail rise up inside me. A caoine pure and perfect that would put any keening banshee to shame.
I could see some walkers in the distance, heading towards me on a winding path and I hastily moved away from the bank and made for the trees that were scattered over to the side of the path. Once there, I leaned against a tree to catch my breath and orient myself. Another wail rose silently up inside me. A wail born of confusion, despair, fear and grief.
I was caught up in something that wove a web so tight around me I could hardly breathe. The fantastical fantasy of events I’d experienced since my father’s death were just too overwhelming for me. Had he even been my father? Had he even died? Was he ever real? All those questions so unthinkable a few months before were so very plausible now. But worse than contemplating all that, was the very real ache inside my heart when I thought of Smithy. Goibhniu. Even as the name Goibhniu echoed in my mind, I knew it was true. He was true.
I stood back from the tree, only now noticing it was an oak, a young one, but still an oak. Fitting enough I thought. Strength, wasn’t it? Or perhaps more fitting as the tree everyone leaned back on in every folk song that had heartbreak in it. Well, not every song, came the retort in my head. That voice would have to get me to Anu. That voice would help me find my way to the bus so that I could take it to her village and eventually to her. Bus was all the few notes stuffed in my jeans would get me. For a brief moment I wished a different action when Luke had thrown the money in my direction in his SUV, but it was only fleeting and I didn’t really mean it. Luke seemed long ago now and almost, the “feckin’ shit head” feeling, a distant memory.
I dragged myself to the path, flute case in hand, the voice of reason filled with oaken strength pulling me forward. One foot placed in front of the other, a two-four rhythm with whole notes wanting to be quarter/quavers, take your pick, hoping and wishing for a reel, but getting a march. A tune came, placed by something other than the oaken voice. The phone, lost long ago in the mad dash was not its source. The source was outside, yet inside. Around me, yet in me. It wove around me and wrapped me up, set my pace. The pace was a happier, faster one and I found a road. The road led me to another, turned me right and then left, went uphill then down, and eventually, I recognised the buildings. The church spire. Capitalise all the letters of the church that made Cork its own. Bells and all. I hadn’t heard them, those Shandon bells, but I knew I wasn’t far from a place I could find my way. At least to the bus. The rest would have to wait.
Once safely boarded on the bus heading west, I sat back and leaned my head against the window and cradled my flute case. My head was crowded with the thoughts that had overtaken me once I’d reached the bus station and seen the date. Two weeks. A fortnight. Fourteen days. All of them had lapsed since I’d stood outside Balor’s office building. Goibhniu had been right. It didn’t seem possible. I laughed at the thought of those words. None of it seemed possible, but yet it was. And nothing could change the fact of the date. And even though a fortnight had passed, my heart was still aching. Another fact that hadn’t changed.
I glanced out of the window, even now looking for signs of Balor, or someone who might be connected with him. It was stupid, I knew that, because how would I know? All I could really check was that it wasn’t Balor. No one could miss that man in a crowd, especially with the eye patch. Eye patch. Ah, the sin of it. Jaysus. How had I been so dim? Dim of course, because who would think that someone with an eye patch would be an actual mythic enemy from a past lost in the mists of time? And the fecker had been so confident he hadn’t even thought to change his name, for feck’s sake. Balor of the Evil Eye. Sure, it was one of the myths Anu had mentioned. Or had I read it in a book? The poisoned eye that was so powerful it would strike dead anyone within its sight. And me, the numpty, had even joked about “poison eye”, or something along those lines.
The train of recrimination and “should haves” which was long and contained many cars of baggage, kept winding through my mind as the houses passed and became open space and bypass. It continued on through the open rural spaces and little villages along the main route. It was a distraction, all of those “I should haves” cars especially slow, with its passengers even waving as they lumbered through my mind.
It was a thought train that kept on going, even as I stepped down from the bus and began the trudge to Anu’s house, with no possession but my flute case and no phone to keep me company. Just that endless train. And the main passenger now on that train was the thought that I had to go back. Go to the Otherworld. Find Goibhniu, because something inside me, something deep and woven so inextricably into all of me was saying, screaming that it wouldn’t be all right. That Goibhniu wouldn’t be all right.<
br />
I climbed the road that led up to the house. I passed Maura’s house with its crow filled trees and was thankful that there was no sign of her lurking about. I walked at a fierce clip to minimise the chance she might pop out suddenly and waylay me. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t see on my face, and at this moment, I didn’t want her advice, her comments or her questions.
Once safely past her house, I hurried onward towards Anu, so anxious now to arrive I could hardly fight the urge to run. It was the feeling inside of me, grown so large now it nearly jumped ahead of me, leaping in great bounds.
When I arrived at Anu’s I could see some of the cows in the nearest field milling around, but there was no sign of her. A quick nip past the house to see if she was in the milking shed. It seemed about the right time, but again, no sign. I backtracked and made for the door to the house and nearly fell through it when she opened it just as I was about to.
“Bríd,” she said.
Her voice held no surprise and her intonation left no doubt that she was done with any pretence about my name. Pity I hadn’t her certainty. Pity many things. Pity the state of circumstances that brought me to her door, asking for help. It wasn’t pity that had me thinking of Goibhniu, the reason why I was here. That reason had me squaring my shoulders.
“You know why I’ve come? You know what happened to Goibhniu?”
“Come in, child. Don’t stand there on the threshold.”
Her words held meaning, they always held meaning, I realised. I just never knew that meaning and felt equally helpless now. But I did feel “threshold” hang heavy and thick in the air as I stepped across or through the doorway to Anu’s home. At that moment it was more “across,” but in time, it would become more “through” as I slid into the life that was and would be.
The mug of tea was a formality, a thought gatherer, a calming pause. Whatever it was, it didn’t suit me in the slightest, but Anu made us go through it. Wait for the kettle to boil, wait for the tea to steep. Wait for it to be poured and then handed out and then to sit at the table. A ritual I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate, especially in the silence in which it was conducted.
“Oh, Bríd,” she said with a gentle smile. “A few moments in this world mean very little when laid aside the momentousness of the subject matter. A subject that must be given all the care and understanding that can be brought to it.”
I frowned and gave her a frustrated look. “Sorry, now. But cryptic talk isn’t what I’m after. Do you know what happened with Goibhniu?”
Anu sighed. “I know that he went over to the Otherworld.”
I leaned closer. “Do you know the circumstances that took him there?”
She cocked them slightly. “No, not directly.”
“Well, let me tell you…directly.” I took a deep breath, wondering where to start.
“Start at the beginning,” Anu said, as if hearing my thoughts.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, well. The beginning. Funny that, isn’t it? There are so many beginnings. But this is the one I’ll choose. I was in Galway, on the coast. I was with someone, but we had a falling out. He left me at the railway station in Galway and I decided to come here because I somehow wanted to lay some of my issues with you and all that’s happened to rest. I was angry at him, but really, I think it had much more to do with you and all that had happened recently. When I arrived at Cork I was caught up in some group protest outside of an office building. Balor’s office building.”
She raised her brows, a mixture of horror and sorrow on her face. “Balor’s? Oh in the name of all that’s sacred.”
I looked at her after her remark and cleared my throat. “As you say. Balor. That Balor. And he was there, emerging from his building. And just when he did, Goibhniu saw me. I have no idea how he knew I’d be there, but he did. He grabbed me, but I was so startled…” I trailed off, another train of recriminations bundled with “what ifs” trundled through my head. “Balor saw us. We ran. Goibhniu took me through a maze of shops, paths and eventually we came to the riverbank.”
“And he summoned the boat,” Anu said.
I nodded. “We drifted for a bit. And then he told me.” I stopped, suddenly unable to complete the sentence.
“He left you at the bank of the Otherworld and told you to return here.”
I nodded again, words still impossible. She leaned across and took my hand away from the mug of undrunk tea and held it. She murmured softly, words of endearments I thought, though they were uttered in a language I didn’t recognise, let alone understand.
I breathed deeply. “Why?”
“Why?”
“Why did he have to go on his own? I mean he gave reasons. Balor would expect us to go there and it was safer for him to go and me to come here. But I don’t see how I am any safer.” I gestured to myself. “I’m not even the me I know anymore. Not really.”
Anu stood up, came over to me and pulled me in her arms. “He was right. There is much we can do to protect you here and there is much to do here. We have to prepare, Bríd.”
I allowed her embrace for a moment only. A moment to derive comfort and strength. A moment to reach down for the anger I knew was there. The anger would see me through, would draw me across and through that threshold to where I needed to begin.
I pulled away. “Prepare what? Prepare to let Goibhniu get killed? Prepare to let Goibhniu sacrifice himself for me? We have to bring him back. That’s what we need to do.”
She shook her head. “No. Goibhniu is better where he is.”
“You must be joking. He could be at the mercy of Balor or one of his henchmen at any moment. He could be under threat from who knows what over there.” I had no idea of the perils of the fairy mounds, the Otherworld, but if the tales held any particle of truth, danger in the most unexpected forms existed there.
“You underestimate Goibhniu. And you forget that he’s inhabited that world on and off for centuries. Since the banishment. He has friends and allies there. He’ll enlist their help. We need their help, now the time is upon us. We need every advantage here and in the Otherworld.”
She was so calm, her voice and words so reasonable, but my instinct shouted against it all.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but this time it isn’t enough. I know it.” I knew it so deeply, so truly and I couldn’t find the words, because the words weren’t enough to describe the depth of the knowing that I felt.
Her eyes filled with compassion and she tried to embrace me again, but I resisted.
“Bríd, there is so much import in the tasks ahead of us. Tasks that must be completed soon. Now. You are key in these tasks in ways you can’t imagine. And you must trust me to know that this is right. This choice for you to come here.”
I shook my head, still resistant. “I can’t believe that. I won’t believe that.”
“Oh, Bríd, you have no choice.” She kissed my head. “Now, why don’t you go have a rest? You must be exhausted.”
I looked at her. “I have no things with me. No phone. My backpack and everything else are gone. All I have is what I’m wearing.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll find you something until we can get all of that sorted out.”
I let her lead me to the stairs and take me up to the bedroom I’d used before. I sat on the bed and waited as she made her way back downstairs. I went to the window and stared out to the yard with its milking shed, the piggery, and the field to the side of it, but my eyes didn’t see anything but the images in my head of Goibhniu. Smithy. Anu could try all she wanted to convince me that he would be fine. I had noticed, though, she’d said nothing about Goibhniu returning at any point. But I would make it happen. Because the knowing had become stronger than ever and it reached across the worlds, grabbed me hard and wouldn’t let me go. Goibhniu needed me. He was in danger and I was the only one who could help him.
26
Saoirse
The morning was filled with well-meaning words and comforting pats from Anu. I
just went along, my shoulders sagged and my smile resigned, though I wanted to scream my fury, my desire for action. How could I manage this journey? The knowing was there, but the abilities, the craft, the steps that would get me to his side were so very elusive and complicated.
I was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and top that belonged to Anu’s wardrobe, though I could never imagine her wearing them, so different was it from her size and her usual clothes. My Doc Martens suited the look and the mood, dark, dark, dark and I’d felt a grim satisfaction when I pulled them on earlier.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said, pulling on my dark jacket. The weather was fine, but I knew there would be a breeze this early in the morning. “Unless you need my help.”
“Ah, no you’re grand. Go get some fresh air. You’ll feel better for it.”
I nodded, found a wan smile and put it on. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
She nodded. “I’ll see if I can get another phone for you, in the meantime.”
“That would be good,” I said, though I had no interest in a phone. And for now, I didn’t care. I had no one I wanted to contact and no interest in social media or any Internet exploration. Unless it told me how to get to the Otherworld. And if it did, that advice would lead nowhere.
I could see the house from the distance as I walked down the winding road. I walked faster, my destination in sight, until the road dipped below and it was no longer visible, and then I broke into a trot. There was an urgency on me now. I couldn’t explain it, I could only feel it. It was as if the house drew me to it like a magnet, even though I knew he wouldn’t be there and the tiny kernel of hope that he would be was foolish.
My steps slowed as I neared the house. It looked quiet, silent. No smoke emitting from the chimney, no hammer ringing its beats against the anvil. I opened the gate to the yard and walked across it, noting the closed door to the forge and the other sheds. Once I reached the back door, I tried it, but it was locked. I looked around for a place to hide a spare key, hoping against hope he was of that ilk. I lifted a few rocks nearby, a spare bucket and found nothing. I spied a pair of wellies tucked under a little stone outcrop protected from the elements, held my breath as I reached in and felt around the inside of the right and then the left. It was in the left that I found it. I broke into a grin.
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