‘Must we kill every foe we come across in this war? Does Alan feel this way? Is there no possibility of compromise?’
‘The enemy has ever been obdurate in terms that might have mitigated suffering or ended hostilities.’
Mo hesitated, the fingers of her right hand subconsciously caressing the Torus that dangled on a thong around her neck. In her memory she saw the Torus around the neck of an old aboriginal woman caught in the rays of the setting Australian sun, its elongated shadows throwing her naked skin into relief. The old woman had been carrying a long cylindrical basket. She had reached into the basket and raised a stick with a rattling pod at the end of it, then addressed a young woman whose name was Mala, and who was seated, cross-legged, by a dark, still pond. The old woman had rattled the pod before Mala and said, ‘Tjitji’, which Mo understood to mean child. Mala, as Mo now knew, was her natural mother and Mo was the tjitji – the child developing in Mala’s womb. She had seen the old woman transfer the Torus to the neck of Mala. Now, Mo looked down at it. It was a ring, maybe two inches diameter, of strange grey-coloured rock, aglow with efflorescences of blues and greens, ultramarines and turquoise. It was . . . alive with . . . with power. Mo had increasingly come to realise that the Torus was similar to the oracula her friends bore – she could sense the most intimate thoughts and feelings of other minds, other hearts.
She sighed. It was hard to believe that they had learned no lessons from the two and a half days of carnage. The ferociousness of the fighting had so shocked Mo that it disturbed her sleep now. She intended to take it up at her meeting with Alan and Kate later in the day. Surely she would find support with Kate, who must be every bit as shocked by the violence and bloodshed as Mo was?
She was so relieved that her friend Kate was back. Mo had deeply missed her company. They had met, hugged one another, rejoiced, but that joy had been marred by the sight of flaming buildings and the continuing efforts of the Shee to winkle out the last outposts of legionary resistance. Since then there had been no time for the two of them to sit down and talk.
Mo felt that she desperately needed to talk. That was why she had sent a message to Alan and Kate suggesting the meeting. She also needed, of course, to hear every detail of what had happened to Kate on her mission to rescue the Cill, but there was a deeper, more urgent, reason she needed to meet up with her friends.
I need to tell them everything. I need to explain what has been happening to me and why it so frightens me.
That was why the birdsong had been such a welcome intrusion: it had been the reminder that joy still existed in the world.
Mo turned her face to the sunshine, appreciating the faint fragrance of flowers in the cool morning air. She saw two children nearby chasing butterflies, a scene so heart-warming and charming Mo couldn’t help but watch them. Oh, how she would have loved to join them! They looked like a couple of Olhyiu ragamuffins, a boy and a girl, perhaps ten and nine years of age. Then she wondered: What parent could have been so careless as to expose such innocents to the fury of a war zone? It was a wonder that they had survived the arduous journey here, never mind the recent battles.
Her curiosity aroused, Mo walked across the gritty dirt to speak to them, ignoring the towering shadow of Usrua who followed close on her heels. ‘Why, hello! Who might you two be?’
The girl, who was the elder, cast a wary glance in the direction of the Shee, whose nostrils were visibly twitching, sniffing the air around the two children.
‘Beggin’ pardon, Milady, but I’se Moonrise an’ this is me brudder, Hsst.’
Mo laughed. ‘Hsst is a funny kind of name.’
‘It’s on account of ’e’s deaf.’
‘He’s deaf? Oh, dear! I think I’m beginning to get the picture.’ Mo lifted her eyebrows in sympathy, but also bemusement.
‘Where are your parents?’
‘We ain’t got none.’
‘So you look after your brother?’
‘I looks to ’im an’ ’e looks to me.’
‘When did you last have something to eat?’
‘We gets a bit o’ soup, from Soup Scully Oops.’
‘When was the last time you had a bowl of soup?’
‘Only . . . Well . . . mebbe . . .’
Mo could see from the marks on their faces and limbs that the children had been ill-treated, and not just recently – there were bruises of various shades that suggested earlier mistreatment. Mo had experienced such brutality at the hands of her adoptive parents, Grimstone and his wife Bethel, so she remembered it only too well. The little girl also had a swollen eye, caked in pus.
‘Moonrise. You have a huge stye there.’
The little girl rubbed at the inflamed eyelid with a filthy hand.
‘It looks really sore.’
Moonrise squinted down at her brother, who was barely above her shoulder. Tears moistened his eyes as he alternately looked up at her and threw fearful glances at the Shee. He inserted his hand into that of his sister and sucked on his free thumb.
Mo said: ‘Please don’t be frightened by Usrua. She’s just taking care of me. She won’t harm you, not unless you try to harm me.’ Mo laughed, taking a gentle hold of the girl’s free hand. ‘I don’t think you are planning to harm me, are you, Moonrise?’
Moonrise shook her head.
‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’m going to send Usrua to find an aides. The aides will know how to treat your eye. She’ll also find you something to eat.’
Moonrise looked up at Mo with alarm. She attempted to retrieve her hand from Mo’s, but Mo resisted.
‘I’s all right. I’s okay, Milady . . .’ she said.
Mo kept her voice gentle but insistent. ‘No, it really isn’t. You’re both starving. And your eye is infected.’
Usrua, who had been observing all this with statuesque stillness, now inclined her head to purr quietly into Mo’s ear, ‘The Mage Lord, Alan, approaches, together with the Kyra, Kate and the dwarf mage. You had requested a private conversation with them, if you remember.’
‘Yes, of course. I really need to talk with them, but I don’t want to do so on my own. See if you can find the magician, Magtokk.’
Usrua nodded, but she hesitated as she looked down at the children.
‘Don’t worry. They’ll hardly understand what I’m about to discuss. And the little girl really needs attention for that eye.’
The Shee stretched to her full height and her eyes narrowed. ‘I shall inform an aides of the children’s needs, and meanwhile find the monkey trickster as you command. But beware, Mistress! Danger comes in many guises. This is not the first time I have noticed these same urchins at play nearby. Even in the most innocent of circumstances you must anticipate treachery.’
*
Mo watched the approach of Alan and Kate with some trepidation, noticing Alan still carried the Ogham-runed Spear of Lug in his right hand. She sensed the same heightened wariness in Alan’s heart and mind as she had in Usrua’s. Was he still wary of pockets of enemy that might suddenly spring out of a cleft in the rocks, or some hidden tunnel, and attack them? Was he being overly protective of Kate, now she was back with him? Judging from his expression, Mo saw that he was very distracted. How her childhood friend had changed! How all four friends had changed since their arrival here as naïve teenagers from Earth.
Alan was now very tall. She guessed he was almost the same height as his beanpole grandfather, Padraig. But then, Mo herself had also grown exceptionally tall. It was scary to feel, and see, things happen to oneself without having any control over them. Mo knew that people were now somewhat daunted by Alan. Even the Shee treated him with respect and the Olhyiu appeared to regard him as semi-divine, much as the Gargs regarded Kate. But Mo didn’t fear either of her friends, no matter what legends were now growing up about them.
She and Kate flung themselves into one another�
��s arms, promising to find hours and hours to gossip all by themselves, but this was not the moment. As Mo hugged Alan in turn, she was surprised at her own palpable nervousness when she whispered the words into his ear: ‘We need to talk. There’s something I must tell you and Kate.’
Alan held her by her shoulders at arm’s length, as if to fully appraise the changes he must see in her. There was the suggestion of a smile on his lips. ‘What is it, Mo? Are you still worrying about Mark?’
‘I can’t help worrying about him.’
Alan spoke, quietly. ‘I guess all of us have been wondering if Mark got there – if the Temple Ship took him back to Earth.’
Kate and Mo nodded. All three of them were still thinking the same thoughts. Their friend, and Mo’s adoptive brother, Mark, had been unsure if he was alive or dead after he was reduced to a soul spirit by Mórígán. He had been so haunted by the uncertainty he was determined to return to Earth and find out.
‘I am worried about Mark, but that’s not why I asked for the meeting. I have something important to tell you.’
Mo grabbed hold of Kate’s hand.
‘Mo! What on earth is it?’
‘I hardly dare to speak of it. Not on my own.’
But then she was relieved to see Usrua returning in the company of Magtokk, who was knuckle walking in an attempt to keep pace with the strides of the Shee. He resembled a great ball of fur, dragging locks of it through the dirt behind him. The deep-set orang-utan eyes furrowed as they gazed into Mo’s, and then she saw his face lift, sensing her state of heightened emotion.
Kate said: ‘Mo’s about to tell us a secret, but she refused to say a word until you’re here.’
Magtokk blew out a sigh through those huge rounded cheeks and then raised his enormous sausage-fingered hand to stroke his gingery-orange beard.
‘I take it you’re going to talk about your mother?’
Mo said: ‘I’m going to tell them everything.’
*
Alan sat directly opposite Mo, his head dipped and eyes slightly narrowed against the flurries of wind that blew sandy grit into his eyes. Kate sat beside him, her hand squeezing Mo’s. They were clustered together on a dry ledge of tufa, with a ring of Shee guardians keeping to a discreet distance of fifty or so yards away. Magtokk and Qwenqwo completed the circle. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mo spoke in a voice just above a whisper. ‘I was supposed to keep it a secret from you for now, but I can’t stay quiet about it any longer. I think you both should know right away.’ Mo took a deep breath. ‘Magtokk took me to see my birth mother.’
Alan’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘He did what?’
‘I wanted him to. It was something I desperately needed to do.’
Qwenqwo toyed with an unlit pipe in his gnarled hands. He lifted his emerald green eyes to look directly into Mo’s. ‘I can see that it meant everything to you, Mo. But how was this possible?’
‘Oh, Qwenqwo, there has always been so much that was never fully explained to us. We were drawn into Tír and expected to do whatever the various powers demanded of us. And we’re still doing what they demand of us, as if we have no choice in the matter. Magtokk was very helpful to me. He recruited Thesau – the eagle you will recall from our journey down the Snowmelt River. It seems that Thesau is not an eagle, and was not protecting you, Qwenqwo, or your runestone. It’s a True Believer and it is still up there, or somewhere close by anyway, and its purpose was ever to protect me.’
Qwenqwo snorted. He busied himself with the pantomime of lighting his pipe, refusing on this occasion to do Magtokk the favour of lighting a second. Then he puffed away, but with hardly his customary contentment, imbuing the faint stink of the distant toxic exhalations of the volcanic lava with the more pleasant aroma of his pipe tobacco.
In looking across at his friend, Alan could hardly fail to notice how Mo was changing. Her face was lengthening and her eyes were turning up at the outer edges. She had always been stunningly beautiful, but now she looked curiously different, even a little alien. Every time she looked into a mirror, it would probably make her wonder about her own nature. It was a feeling he had become familiar with himself.
Kate spoke: ‘But you haven’t answered Qwenqwo’s question, Mo. How could Magtokk possibly take you to meet your birth mother when we know, or at least we think we know, that your mother is dead?’
‘Magtokk helped me to make a dream journey into the past, like when you, Qwenqwo, took us back to the destruction of Ossierel and the death of Ussha de Danaan.’
Alan was increasingly shocked by what he was hearing. ‘Magtokk, you’ve been playing games behind our backs.’
‘No, my friend. I have never lied or played games with regard to my position. When Mo asked for my help, I felt obliged to help her.’
‘I doubt that it was like that. You’ve had your eye on Mo since you first appeared. None of us could fail to notice your obsessive attentions.’
‘I do not deny it.’
‘Oh, Alan, none of you really understands! Magtokk is one of them. He’s a True Believer.’
Mo’s words provoked a flurry of exclamations.
An enraged Alan turned on Magtokk: ‘Is this true?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
Mo put her hand on Alan’s shoulder. ‘It would explain how he disappears and reappears. The True Believers don’t have any corporeal reality. They can come and go through Dromenon.’
‘They can cross between worlds? They can journey back in time?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is this true, Magtokk?’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘You took Mo on a dream journey to meet her birth mother?’
‘Not merely to meet, to witness.’
Alan shook his head, even more bewildered. ‘Why?’
‘Is it not obvious? So she could understand who, and what, she truly is.’
‘What did she discover then?’ Alan turned from his fierce interrogation of Magtokk to look at Mo. ‘Do you really know yourself better now?’
Mo’s face fell. She looked so bewildered that Alan regretted raising his voice. ‘I’m sorry, Mo. Forgive me. It’s just that—’
Kate put her arm around Mo’s shoulders and embraced her. ‘Hush, Alan. Allow Mo a moment or two.’
Alan sighed, nodded. Magtokk’s great shaggy arm reached out to hug Mo on the opposite side. His other arm reached out to tap Qwenqwo on the shoulder, his huge face putting on such a comical expression of pleading that the dwarf mage couldn’t help but smile, however much he disapproved. Qwenqwo filled a second pipe, lighting it and passing it over. The flagon wasn’t too long delayed in appearing after that.
‘Magtokk! Will you, for goodness’ sake, tell us what’s really going on?’ Alan said.
‘Of course,’ he puffed, with his eyes closing in a look of contentment. Then he sighed and opened his wise old eyes again. ‘Like you, Alan – and like Kate and Mark – Mo’s role in the big picture was fated. She serves a greater purpose in this world. I was appointed by my fellow True Believers to help protect Mo. Such has ever been my purpose, and privilege, among you. There was neither deceit, nor treachery, merely the determination to protect and enable her. And Mo’s purpose draws nearer.’
Kate clasped Mo’s hand between her two. ‘Mo!’
Mo smiled at Kate. ‘It’s true, Kate. Magtokk has been wonderful to me. It was so beautiful to meet my birth mother, Mala. She looked so young and vulnerable. Just an aboriginal girl, so lovely to meet and so innocent.’ Mo hesitated. ‘I hope Magtokk won’t mind my telling you. She is – she was – my virgin mother.’
Mo’s words astonished Alan and Kate.
Alan couldn’t speak for several moments just studying Mo, who had always been the strangest of the four friends. She was the only one who had not been given a crystal by Gra
nny Dew in the cave of the Whitestar Mountains. Right now she was pursing her lips, the way she had done on the first day he had met her, together with her adoptive brother, Mark, after Padraig had caught them trespassing in his woods. Even then there had been something special, something different, about Maureen Grimstone – a difference Padraig appeared to sense right away. Padraig had taken her under his wing, just as Qwenqwo and now Magtokk had done here on Tír.
Alan took a deep breath. ‘Mo, we may soon be under attack again. We’ve all been under tremendous stress. Stress does things to your mind. This journey, riding these bone-shaking onkkh. I wonder at times if I’m going slightly bonkers myself. Those black blots invading my mind. I have nightmares in which I wake from sleep tormented by those vile shapes, spinning and changing inside my head, but I’ve come to the conclusion it’s just being stupid to allow them to trouble me. They’re just stress hallucinations.’
‘I don’t think I’m hallucinating, Alan.’
‘You really believe your mother was a virgin?’
Mo nodded.
‘Virgin pregnancies don’t happen, Mo. Not in the real world.’
‘By real world, you mean Earth. But Tír is not Earth. And whatever happened with my mother, no matter that it happened in Australia, the presence of the True Believers tells me that it didn’t follow the rules of Earth.’
‘Mo, you need to be sceptical of everything you see and hear. Isn’t it possible your thoughts, your dreams, are being manipulated?’
Magtokk interrupted: ‘It is you who are being naïve, Alan, if you think that every child is born of man and woman. Have you forgotten your friends, the Shee? What if the pregnancy was placed within Mala in a manner beyond her capacity to understand?’
The Return of the Arinn Page 7
