The Raven Lady

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  The queen and Finvara agreed that two hundred soldiers would be sent aboard Corvus. He believed that no more could safely travel in a vessel of her size, especially since we would be cruising into battle. As I listened to them discussing plans for the siege, I began to worry.

  My father had brought half his warriors—five hundred strong. I had left Treig behind at Knock Ma after she assured me she would be able to avoid the elves by moving in and out of Faery—while Doro had ordered the fairies to disperse from the castle at the king’s request, it had not suited his purposes to cast the shielding spell that he had promised. That gave us hope that Treig would be able to speak to her people and unravel their alliance with Doro—and that the rest of the fairies would follow. But she’d had very little time.

  The elves were fierce fighters—well-seasoned in hand-to-hand combat. We anticipated the Morrigan would be able to shield her Irish crew from spells, but once they disembarked, their rifles could be easily disabled. Finvara’s fighting force would have only two advantages: the element of surprise—though even that was reduced by the fact my father would be expecting us at some point—and the Morrigan’s cannons.

  It would not be enough. Had the Morrigan’s powers not been reduced by her transmutation, she would certainly have been a match for Alfakonung. As it was, I feared we would be charging to our deaths.

  knock ma has other defenses.

  The voice exploded in my skull, shattering my thoughts and sending spasms down my body.

  What other defenses?

  the trees.

  I felt a tear squeeze from the corner of my eye. The others were deep in their strategy discussions and hadn’t yet noticed my distress. I wasn’t sure how long I could endure the goddess’s attention, but before anyone interfered, I needed to understand. What had she meant by “the trees”?

  they are protectors of the house of finvara.

  But how?

  ask oisin to speak to them.

  Odin’s eye, if she would only speak plainly. Who is Oisin!

  the poet!

  All of it was nonsensical, or so it seemed, and I knew that outwardly as well as inwardly I was beginning to fall apart.

  Yet from the beginning I had been uneasy about the forest around Knock Ma.

  The face of Mr. Yeats then rose in my mind unbidden.

  oisin, repeated the Morrigan.

  The poet. It would explain the scribbling. But why was she calling him “Oisin”? And why did she think he could talk to the trees?

  the druid’s gap gate. it leads to the forest.

  It did! And the Morrigan—Corvus—using the navigator device, could take us to Doro’s gate. But what would passing through it again do to me? And how could I lead another through it? Mr. Yeats was a red-blooded creature, so the experiments thus far suggested he would survive it. What would be the cost?

  ask him, insisted the Morrigan.

  “Koli, what ails you?”

  Finvara’s voice came to me from a thousand miles away. I felt his hand on my cheek but my eyes would not focus on his face.

  What the Morrigan was proposing—it would allow us to flank my father’s army. If she was right about the trees, they could attack from the west while the elves were occupied with Corvus and the queen’s army to the east.

  The queen had told Finvara to tidy up his mess. These words might have just as fairly been spoken to me.

  As my husband’s face came into focus and I saw the worry plainly written there, I wondered how I was going to get him to agree to this plan—especially when it had been proposed by the Morrigan. He didn’t trust her. There was uncertainty. There was risk. I might be “comfortable with chaos,” but could he be?

  The affection and concern in his eyes—it was a warming balm. I had not felt this mortal, this human, in decades. Yet I had married him out of a desire to protect him, not so that he would protect me. And I had not made the dangerous decision to betray Doro and my father only to set up another man as my lord and master—however the intensity of his gaze might stir my blood.

  Another tear slipped down my cheek. I could still feel the pulses moving through my body, though the pain was starting to fade.

  “Is it her?” he asked, his thumb stopping the tear in its path. “What is she saying to you?”

  Making a decision, I forced a smile. “I have gotten an earful about how she would make my father and Doro pay, were she her old self.”

  Thunderclouds gathered on my husband’s brow, and I continued, “I think she will give me some peace now, but I would like to rest.”

  My request to retire ended the luncheon, and after I’d convinced Finvara that rest was all I needed, he asked to accompany General Varma so he might speak to the men who would return to Knock Ma with us. He left the navigator device in the care of Mr. Yeats.

  Claiming to have forgotten the way back to our chamber, I asked Mr. Yeats if he would take me. The young man was happy to help, and as I took his arm, I noticed he was made of stronger stuff than his outward appearance suggested. Though he was not as tall as Finvara, his bespectacled brown eyes were on a level with mine. There was an awkwardness—an uncertainty—to his bearing that was not surprising in one so young.

  “Mr. Yeats,” I began, “may I ask what you are always writing?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answered brightly. “But please call me Will.”

  “And you should call me Koli. There are too many Your Majesties under this roof.”

  “You’ve a point,” he said with an easy laugh. “Still, I’m only a Sligo lad, the son of a painter, and I would not choose to insult either you or your husband. May we compromise at ‘my lady’?”

  I nodded my assent. “Do you care to tell me about your writing?”

  “Certainly, if it interests you. I write poems, and I collect stories about Ireland’s ancient peoples.”

  “Were you writing a poem today?”

  “Today I was simply making notes.” He steered me down an adjoining corridor. “Someday I intend to return to my grandparents’ cottage near Ben Bulben and write a memoir about the things I have experienced in the company of a number of Ireland’s important personages. I hope you won’t mind—there are quite a few passages devoted to Your Ladyship. I have always been curious about your people, and I am fascinated by the recent alteration to your physique. Perhaps on the return trip to Knock Ma I might ask a few questions?”

  We halted at the door to my chamber, and I turned to him. “As many as you like.” I wondered that he didn’t seem to be anxious about the upcoming battle. “I have another one for you—have you heard of someone called Oisin?”

  “Indeed! Oisin was a warrior of the Tuatha De Danaan, as well as a poet and historian. He wrote much about the people of Faery, and you can read it in the library at Trinity College. I had begun to write a poem about him before I joined Grace O’Malley’s crew. Though so much has happened since then, I wonder whether I shall ever finish it.”

  “Oisin sounds much like yourself,” I said, better understanding why the Morrigan might have referred to him this way.

  A glimmer of mirth lit his large brown eyes. “I am no warrior, lady.”

  “Would you like to be?”

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t know that I am cut out to be one. I’m quite studious by nature. Why do you ask?”

  Should I confide in him? What if he went to Finvara? But the Morrigan had directed me to ask, and without him my scheme had no hope of succeeding.

  “I will be honest with you,” I said. “I have a dangerous business to undertake. A business my husband knows nothing about, and which he would likely forbid me to pursue. Yet it is necessary, and I cannot do it without your help. The Morrigan has suggested you might be willing.”

  The poor boy’s expression was utter shock. “My help? Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand her?
”

  “Quite sure.”

  I explained to him what the Morrigan had proposed while he continued to watch me with wide eyes. Gradually other emotions took over the shock in his countenance. A spark of curiosity. A glint of excitement. And pride, unmistakably. After all, not everyone was recommended for a job by the goddess of war.

  “I’m afraid you will have no time to consider it,” I said. “We would have to leave immediately, pass through the Gap gate, and send Corvus back to Dublin so that the king may—”

  “I will do it.”

  I studied him. He appeared in earnest, and quite determined.

  “I can’t imagine why she believes I can talk to trees,” he continued, “but I am willing to try.”

  I laid my hand on his arm. “Listen to me, Will. Before you agree, it is very important that you understand—I cannot say what will happen to you when you pass through Doro’s Gap gate. You are likely to be altered in some way, as I was. Some of the creatures that passed through the gate are no longer living, though there is reason to believe you will at least survive. I cannot even be sure what will happen to me. I am willing to undertake the risk to help my husband. You . . . you have no one to protect.”

  “Respectfully, my lady,” he replied, straightening, “I disagree.” His thick, brown hair fell over his eyes and he swept it out of the way. “I have family in the west of Ireland. My home is there. I cannot but think that they will suffer, and so too all of Ireland, if you and your husband do not prevail. Besides, I like to think that I am loyal to both queen and country.”

  Relief washed over me. I squeezed his arm. “I thank you. I will do all I can to ensure your safe return. You have my word.”

  Finvara

  I had meant to check on my bride after leaving the soldier barracks, but General Varma suggested I accompany her to the armory. All the soldiers would need to be equipped with both modern and traditional weaponry—plus round shot for Corvus’s cannons—and Varma told me they had been struggling to replenish the queen’s stores since the Battle of Ben Bulben. We sat down with the armory chief to hammer out requisitions for my men as well as hers.

  Though there were many such details to attend to before our departure, which had been set for the following afternoon, I was increasingly uneasy about having left Koli alone. The castle was safe enough; it was the voices in her head that worried me. The more I thought over our last exchange, the more I suspected she was holding something back. What might the goddess have told her that she would feel she needed to keep from me?

  By the time I had concluded my business with Varma, the sun had gone down and it was time to dress for dinner with the queen.

  I stole into our bedchamber quietly in case Koli was sleeping. The lamps had been lit, so I called to her softly.

  The chamber was empty. She had likely gotten tired of waiting and gone off to amuse herself until dinner. And yet my heart tapped out an anxious rhythm.

  The queen had promised to send a servant with more clothing, and indeed the wardrobe stood open and stuffed to capacity. I selected a few items that looked like they would fit and carried them to the bed.

  As I unbuttoned my shirt, I noticed that none of the bed clothes had been disturbed, nor was there an imprint of a head on any of the pillows.

  Heart pounding, I grew impatient and ripped open my shirt the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor. I grabbed the fresh one and put it on, along with fresh trousers. I had just slipped on a jacket when I heard footsteps in the corridor, accompanied by a rising murmur of anxious voices.

  My jaw clenched as someone rapped on the door.

  “What is it?” I called, shoving my foot into a boot.

  Rather than answering, the visitor pushed open the door—General Varma. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” she said urgently, “but I have it from my men that your queen and Mr. Yeats have absconded with Corvus.”

  For a moment I could do nothing but stare at her.

  “A note was given to a servant,” she continued. “I have opened it—I’m sure you understand.”

  I reached for the note and carried it to a lamp table.

  Corvus will return for you and your men. We will see you again at Knock Ma. I have not betrayed you.

  Koli

  I wanted to trust her. With all my heart I wanted to trust her. How could I, when she so obviously didn’t trust me? This message offered not even a hint of what she was planning.

  And she had no real understanding of what the Morrigan was capable of.

  MIND THE GAP

  Koli

  So anxious had I been about my discussion with Will, I had given no thought to the difficulty of the task ahead. Stealing the ship had been easy enough. There were guards in the tower, but I had arrived in the ship and Yeats was trusted, so when we told them we were going aboard to make preparations for King Finvara’s departure, no eyebrow was raised. We simply pulled up the ladder and left the rest to the Morrigan. We knew no one would dare fire on us without orders to do so. Most of the guards stood shouting after us, while others ran to sound the alarm.

  Leaving Finvara without an explanation or even a proper goodbye . . . deceiving him again, after what we’d already been through? That had been much harder. There’d been no time to explain myself properly in the note I’d left him—putting it all down in Elvish would have been challenging enough, but English or Irish? A more thorough explanation would not likely have reassured him anyway.

  Would he accept what I’d written in the note? In my heart, I believed that he would want to trust me. But had I been in his position, I wasn’t sure that I could have. I had been his wife for a couple of days. I had been my father’s daughter for nearly a century. Reflecting now on how much my life had changed in the time I had been at Knock Ma with Finvara made me wonder if risking the loss of that was worth it.

  It was a fool’s speculation. I could lose him forever with or without the risk. And his life was more important to me than his approval.

  “Are you ready, my lady?”

  I glanced at Will, and he raised the navigator device.

  I nodded and followed him across the deck and up the stairs to the helm.

  Will took a cord from his pocket and, setting the device on the rail that crossed in front of the wheel, he ran the cord through metal rings at the base of the device and tied it down.

  “It’s inelegant,” he said, “but it will have to do. Now, to use the device to fold the distance between two geographical points, you need to know the coordinates of both points. Errors in configuring the device can result in missing your destination and even losing time.”

  I frowned. “Losing time?”

  “Arriving a day later than you intended, for example. Or a week.”

  From his expression, I got the sense that he spoke from experience, and I offered a silent prayer to Freyja that he knew what he was doing.

  He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a map. “So the first thing we—”

  The navigation device suddenly issued a series of clicks, and its gears and levers began moving of their own accord.

  stand clear.

  “I’m not sure what’s happening,” said Will, sounding more curious than alarmed.

  “It’s the Morrigan,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh!” replied Will, continuing to stare at the busy thing.

  The vapor in the globe lost its color and began to look like normal fog. Glancing at the bow, I noticed a vertical line had appeared directly in the path of the ship. As we approached, the line widened to a slit, and finally to an oval shape—a dark opening filled with stars.

  Will looked at me. “Mind the Gap, my lady.”

  He curled an arm around the rail, grabbing his fist to lock his hold. The boards beneath my feet began to creak and pop, and I followed his example. As w
e nosed into the opening, the bow of the ship lifted enough that I would have stumbled had Will not warned me. The tilt increased, and we soon found ourselves hanging from the rail.

  “Is this expected?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Aye,” he replied. “I envy you your wings, lady.”

  I tightened my grip as the rail dug painfully into my elbow joint. The ship was now halfway through the Gap opening and halfway still floating in the sky above Dublin. Wings or no wings, the idea of a fall from this height was enough to turn my stomach. I was amazed by the lack of disquiet on my traveling companion’s face. I was about to ask him how long we might expect to hold this position when the bow began to dip. By the time the stern passed into the Gap, the ship was again cruising levelly.

  Glancing back, I watched the window of blue sky closing behind us. Then the balloon burner suddenly cut out.

  Will released the rail and stood, tugging his waistcoat back in place. “Captain O’Malley herself could do no better,” he said cheerfully.

  The reference to Finvara’s ancestress both stabbed at my conscience and made me long for my own Captain O’Malley. Everything had seemed so clear back at Dublin Castle, but had I made the right decision? Should it not have been a decision we made together? I was grateful for Will’s aid and company, but I would far prefer to have my husband by my side.

  Finvara did not trust the Morrigan, and he had good reason for it.

  I am terrified of my father’s power, and I have good reason for it, I reminded myself.

  We had been cruising through the Gap only a few minutes when Doro’s Black Swan came into view. It was still positioned below the Gap gate. The decision to pass again through the gate was another one that had made more sense from the safety of Dublin Castle.

  Turning to Will, I said, “Are you sure you want to do this? I must. You still have a choice.” In truth, I didn’t know what I would do if he changed his mind. But I couldn’t let him do this half-heartedly.