Legend of the Lakes

by Clara O'Connor

  “I will close the door while you interact with the line. When the latents are brought here, there is a spike above ground in the deaths of those afflicted with the Maledictio. I don’t know if it helps, but…” Kasen trailed off, exiting the room. “Knock when you’re done.”

  Fidelma looked haggard, every bit of the toll that tending the line had had on her over the last twenty years etched on her face. Marina held her hand, even as she lifted her chin to face the battle ahead.

  Gideon watched me intently as I sat down on the ground and closed my eyes to prepare to descend.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said to him… or to myself – I wasn’t sure or entirely convinced. I reached out and took Marina’s hand, which clutched at mine, while on my left Fidelma held a steady hand out for me to take.

  “I feared we would be too late,” she said, almost to herself.

  “Maybe we are,” I replied, as I compared this damaged and corrupted thing that flowed under the city to the slightly fractured harmony of the Belinus line or even the pain-twisted May line as it had been before Avebury. They had been damaged but this, this thing was unrecognisably mangled. No wonder lines across Europe had died. Better death than this, this thing that sucked at us.

  I braced my body and then let my spirit free, let myself float down or let the ley line float up to me. The slimy, foetid, corrupt energy swirled around me, over me, testing me, judging me. There was no song, no flow, only a deep pool into which I sank.

  I recoiled from the line that tangled and caught at the souls of those who died above it. As we descended, the horror of what had been done here swirled around us. The mawing pull wasn’t from the line but from the hundreds upon hundreds of darkly brittle souls trapped here at this node. Trapped, sacrificed, they were the souls of the latents who had been fed to the ley line. For that was the only way to describe what had happened to them. The souls felt burnt from the inside out, empty, hollow things detached from the lives they had led, from the people they had been. Their energy, their magic, had been given as sustenance to the deeply corrupted, coiling ley line that pulled at us as if we too were to be consumed.

  Marina’s white light was the one pure thing in this sludge; Fidelma’s battered golden light was wavering, so many years of holding this line where it intersected at Glastonbury had made her energy brittle as it damaged her defences.

  I could help it, and so I sang to it as I had sung at Keswick, giving the malevolent notes a new essence, a cleansing tone. I sent wave after wave into the abyss, which took me further and further in as I tried to untwist the line.

  It pulled me further and further adrift from the shore of my life. So quickly… Devastatingly malevolent, overwhelmingly swift currents… The mists engulfed me, obscuring the line that connected me to who I was, to who I am, to who I wanted to be.

  Everything was corrupted, nothing was clean here. The taint spread its darkness over my life.

  The lies and deceit clawed at me, the swirling contempt and fear, whispering that the world was there for me to use, that I should take what I could get, that the other was to be distrusted, that my beliefs, my needs, my wants were all there were.

  My mother had betrayed me. She had disregarded my safety and for what? I had been left alone, undefended. Taken in by others who wanted me for their own purposes.

  My parents had raised me, had tucked me in and fed me, and told me they would be there for me. Then they had quickly left me when my beliefs and needs had diverted from their own.

  My protector had come for me, had risked everything for me. He had loved me, I was sure of it. But had he really? He had wanted me to go to his home, to be with his people, to save his people, to restore his honour, to be the proof of his worth. But he had rejected me again and again. How had I not seen the truth? He had never wanted me, had never loved me. He had left me and allowed himself to be taken, to die, his mission accomplished. He had left me.

  My friend had deceived me, had accused me of not being more, of being selfish and of only seeing the world for what it could do for me. Of letting my own needs and desires lead me. Of failing the gifts with which I had been bestowed, by not putting them into the service of others, that I was not worthy of them. That I did not deserve them. I did not deserve anything. And then he had deceived me. Abandoned me.

  My brother had lived the life his birthright had promised him; he was connected to the life and land of our ancestors in a way I could never be. In a way of which I was not worthy. He was loved, by the friends who would do anything for him, by the people who he served and who loved him in return. He had everything, was everything, that I had never had, could never be. When I had returned to him broken, he had failed me. I was only useful to him as a piece on his chessboard. He used me.

  The waves of self-loathing and disconnection swept over me, pulling me down deeper and deeper. My worst fears, my deepest, darkest thoughts wound their claws into me, digging in, drawing blood, taking hold.

  I had to fight it off, to push it back even as I allowed the corruption in the line to go through me, a cycle of negativity swirling inside my mind, my heart, my soul. I pushed out towards the line all the light, the clarity, the positivity, the love, the synergy of a better world, a kinder world.

  And there, in the darkness, was the flicker of Marina’s light.

  A light that still shone.

  Devyn had risked his life for Marina. He hadn’t done it for duty, for his oath. He had helped her because he could. He had loved me. I knew it. He hadn’t wanted to leave me and he had died protecting me. He had loved me.

  The poverty and pain of the city had seeped deep into the line. Despair and hopelessness were the core of the corruption, the lies and manipulations of the powerful were both the symptoms and the cause.

  The burned-out, dark flickers were trapped in the deep – tied here, but not here. The connection that held them was not to the circle here and I could not reach it. So much pain. So much loss.

  My daughter’s soft baby smell, her sweet touch… I had been a terrible mother. I had never had a mother, so what chance had I had? She had turned to another for love, for care. I felt the bitter twist of seeing her in Gideon’s arms, snuggling in for comfort, never looking to me. I didn’t deserve her love. I hadn’t been there for her. I had failed her.

  Marina’s light pulsed in the grime. It was white, bright in the darkness. The world was made up of light, and sun, and clean, clear water, cleansing, purifying. I had to stay in the light where the energy felt less fractured, less brittle. I focussed on the simplicity of that.

  Light.

  White.

  Hope.

  Joy.

  Clarity.

  Fading in the shadows.

  The thread I held felt gossamer-thin, it wasn’t enough but maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe none of it mattered. I floated suspended in darkness. The ley needed me and it wanted me to stay. None of it mattered.

  I felt the energies of the ley flow, cycle through me and around me.

  There was a tug on the thread. A touch. A call. It nagged at me.

  It was pain, and I didn’t care for that. I didn’t care for anything. All of the fractured shards had floated away. I was free.

  Gideon’s touch seared through. He didn’t care for me. I used him, I needed him. Féile needed him.

  My name twined around the rope that secured me to shore. I didn’t need it. Didn’t need him. He didn’t need anyone. Didn’t care for anyone.

  Not true. Féile. He cared for Féile. I cared for Féile.

  I should follow the thread.

  I didn’t want to.

  I could just let go and float free.

  But he had been there for me time after time. I didn’t deserve it.

  And yet he had done it anyway.

  I could sense my body, my being… worthless, and I sank in the familiar dark. It had always been there pulling me down. I should just let it.

  And then he called me again.

  I owed him,
didn’t I? He had earned my response. But the effort was too much.

  It didn’t matter, nothing mattered.

  The flow was life and life was eternal, endless. This was why I felt so little when I returned. It wasn’t that the energy didn’t care, it was just beyond such things. Bigger than such things.

  Féile sitting on my lap. After everything I had done, Féile coming to me and curling her warm body into mine.

  She needed me.

  Warmth inside. A spark, a connection.

  Gideon calling me.

  Pleading. Why?

  I felt no pain, no weakness here. The corruption and despair were truth.

  The dark shadows, I couldn’t help them.

  My skin, my arm, a warm body embracing mine.

  Warm lips on my cold ones.

  My name.

  They didn’t belong here.

  I didn’t belong here.

  I frowned. I held on to the tether.

  The darkness wasn’t all there was.

  It was substantial. It was real.

  I hadn’t set them free.

  All that power and I couldn’t set them free. I was needed back there.

  The ley line had calmed, its fraught greed had lessened, the song was clearer, but the poor souls were caught fast.

  I couldn’t help them.

  “Come back.”

  “Come back.”

  “Please, don’t leave us.”

  “Come back.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  Whispered urgent words were pulling me back, luring me up. I couldn’t feel anything, didn’t need anything, but I followed that voice. Felt the warmth of that touch. A body curled around mine. Hands on my face.

  It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

  I existed. The thread was there to help me find my way home. I loved. I needed those on the other side.

  I was loved. I was needed.

  That was the truth. That was my truth.

  I had to hold on. The thread flowed on in the darkness.

  I had given all that Avalon had shared with me back into the line. I could do no more. The shadows railed against their fate. I couldn’t reach them.

  The rest was me. I was giving myself up to it.

  If I did that they would be lost.

  I would be lost.

  I held the line.

  For them.

  People gave to each other all the time.

  Oban had given up the future for which he had risked everything so that his sister could have a new life.

  Gideon had given up his independence from others, first for me and then for my daughter.

  Rion had given everything to make a better future for his people. When his family had come back to him, he hadn’t disregarded my feelings in insisting I marry Marcus. He had disregarded his own.

  And Devyn. He had loved me; I had come before everything for him. He had given his life for me. And left me with a precious gift.

  Féile, my darling brave, beloved daughter. Despite years of neglect, she had let me back in.

  I opened my eyes.

  Gideon.

  His face swam into focus. Desperation in his eyes… loss… pain.

  I put my hand up to touch the man in front of me.

  He hurt.

  I hurt. The darkness called me back.

  No.

  I snapped out of it.

  And drew breath.

  I pulled out of the arms that held me, too in my space, too needy. I needed to breathe.

  The room was still as I sat there, looking at the three pairs of eyes that watched me.

  Marina’s eyes filled with the horror at the trapped souls we had left behind.

  Fidelma was busy assessing what had been achieved.

  Gideon watchful, evaluating. Why was he evaluating? What did he see?

  “It wasn’t enough.” Fidelma’s voice was disappointed.

  Our one chance.

  We had failed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Arms wrapped around me, holding me, keeping the pain and sorrow that filled me from breaking me apart. Thousands of souls left behind…

  Gideon’s strength and determination poured into me. Around me.

  He so often appeared to be utterly uncaring about everything around him, disengaged from the outcome of any given situation, but at his core, at the truth of him, he was determined. Focussed. Caring.

  I let it pour over me, through me, I let it heat the cold recesses of my tattered soul. Was this what love felt like?

  Remote. I was too remote. I could recognise it now. Beyond pain, beyond fear, I could feel him. I would hold on to him. He would bring me back.

  It was enough for now. We had things to do. I squirmed out of his touch. He released me, and turned, lying flat on his back.

  “Good evening.”

  “Evening?” I had lost a day then.

  His eyes slanted to mine, assessing.

  “Yes, evening,” he said. “The masquerade ball starts in an hour.”

  The ball, the last-night ball. I had lost a day and a half. I sat up. We needed to get ready. My body was unable to respond to my demand so quickly and I swayed. I stopped and gave myself a moment. The room was softly lit with lanterns and candles.

  “There was a major power outage. Most of the city is restored now, save here and I believe the Strand area.”

  I nodded, familiar with the outages that were a regular occurrence during the Treaty Renewal.

  “Have you spoken to Marcus? Is it all arranged?”

  His jaw hardened. “We haven’t spoken to him.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?” I felt panicked; we were out of time. We needed Marcus to uphold his end of the bargain and it was the last night. We would have to leave tomorrow. And we possibly wouldn’t be back until spring, until our army was ready, and both Londinium’s great walls and an army stood between my daughter and me.

  “Nobody has seen him since the other night.”

  “You can’t track him?”

  “Maybe. I couldn’t look for him because you needed me.”

  “I didn’t need you.”

  His face tightened.

  “Really?” he asked. “Are you sure about that? How do you feel, Cat?”

  I searched inside myself. I felt drained, exhausted. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure that I could stand. But I did feel. I was worried for Féile. I was angry at him for putting me first.

  He had put me first. That’s why I could feel at all. The line had exhausted me but hadn’t burned me out. I still needed him – not as much as before, but Nimue had said that I would need him as much as I should, and so I did. Not fatally so as before. But I needed him. His presence strengthened me; that was our reality, our truth.

  “Thank you.”

  His eyes softened, and an almost smile put some fullness back in his thinned lips.

  “You came back,” he said. The simple worlds held a depth that I had never known from him.

  I felt raw. Flashes of the fractured corruption that had washed through me hit me. I pushed them away.

  “It wasn’t enough.” I hadn’t been able to free those souls. Time was running out. I wasn’t strong enough.

  We needed to find Féile. There was so little time.

  “You did all you could.”

  But not enough. I pulled away to get ready for the night ahead.

  I stared at the unfamiliar features of the Mercian stranger in the mirror, clothed in shimmering silks that left my shoulders and arms bare. My skin felt like porcelain once the heat of his touch wore off. Delicate and cold, fragile, like I would shatter if touched.

  That was the lie.

  I almost flinched at his touch as he placed a torc around my neck. He ran steel-calloused hands across my shoulders and down my arms, threading his fingers through mine, and the pressure eased. I gripped tightly and then relaxed.

  I
threw him a tight smile.

  “I’m not fully myself yet. Stay close,” I said, and then I took a mental step towards where I wanted to be. “I need you. You are all that connects me to the world right now.”

  His eyes widened but otherwise he kept his expression carefully blank.

  “I feel like a balloon on a string.” Another deep mental breath. “Don’t let go.”

  His eyes locked with mine, unblinking. He lifted our entwined hands and pressed his lips to the back of mine. They were gentle and warm.

  Was this his truth, and not the indifferent facade he so often presented? Rion was right; Gideon’s actions said more than his words. He had selflessly been what I needed time after time.

  “Do you mind?” I asked, looking down at the cosmetics spread on the dressing table in front of me, the elegant glass bottles and myriad creams. I plucked at a nonexistent mark on the silks of my dress, weaving the cloth between my fingers. I had done what I could to set him free, to ask Avalon to make me independent of him. The corruption of the line had been more than I could handle alone – he knew that. Was he angry to learn I still depended on him to restore my strength?

  He shook his head, not following my question.

  “I tried to set you free,” I reminded him, guilt knotting me. He came to my side. His fingers cupped my chin, lifting it so I had to meet his eyes.

  “I never asked you to do so,” he said in a hard voice. His lips descended, pressing warmly against mine. “Now, let’s go and hunt Marcus.”

  I stepped forward into Marcus’s waiting arms slowly, not looking around for Gideon or Rion. Where had he been all evening before he had invited me to dance? The night was nearly at an end; we had only hours until our departure in the morning. He had sworn he would make it right, that he would deliver Féile to us, but there had been no sign of him since I had tended the line. Rion and Bronwyn had tried everything to locate him. Had he deceived us into getting what he wanted? Had he never had any intention of giving my daughter back to me?