by Lucy Fear
“We’re getting close, aren’t we?” she asked, unconsciously tightening her arms around his neck.
We’re in the unclaimed lands. It will probably be another hour before we reach the Court of Bones, he said, his voice gentle in her mind. I’ll keep you safe. With any luck, no one will even know we were there.
She wanted not to be afraid, to be able to put her trust in Idris and his words. But Maeve couldn’t put her faith in luck. After all, they’d already had an inordinate amount of good fortune. She could’ve been eaten by predators, or starved, or frozen alone in the forest, but Idris had found her. And then, not just he, but his whole family, had taken her in and helped her, shielding her from her brother and father. He had taken a risk, giving her his blood, and it had worked. He loved her, and she loved him. Relying on luck alone, she was worried that they were overdue for something bad to happen.
The sky grew darker as it grew grayer, and then she felt it, a change, a tingle on her skin. She didn’t need Idris to tell her. “We’re in the Court of Bones now, aren’t we?”
We are, he said, swiveling his head this way and that. Your father could use a better decorator. Maeve laughed, a bit hysterical on the edge of fear, but she knew what he meant. The clouds roiled above them with flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, but it never rained. The ground below was dark rock, broken only by the twisted forms of dead trees. A lifeless and desolate landscape. She found herself wondering what it would look like if the sun was shining. If rain was allowed to fall and grass was allowed to grow. There had been times in her childhood, she thought, when the sun had shined, but she couldn’t really remember when that had changed. She pondered this, wondering if it had any significance, as Idris veered toward a valley she could dimly see on the horizon.
Her body vibrated with tension as she counted every wingbeat, but nothing moved below them. The only sound was the wind and the occasional ominous rumble of thunder. Idris was right, this really was on the edge of nowhere. She had heard the very few members of the court lived outside the fortress, and she could see why. Who would want to live in such a depressing place?
Finally, she could feel Idris angling them downward. Almost there, love, he said, and she gave him a squeeze around the neck, warmed by the endearment even through her anxiety. As they approached the valley, she could see a dark opening at the opposite end. It was a cave, a huge cave, if she was any judge of distance.
“Is that it? The cave?” she asked. They were close to the ground now, and she thought she saw the flicker of an ethereal glow from somewhere deep inside the cavern.
That’s it. Hold on tight for the landing. His wings flapped quickly, in a strange swiveling motion, and their speed slowed until they were hovering in place just a few inches above the ground. They landed with a soft bump. A chill air blew from inside the cave that yawned before them. This was the entrance to the Underworld, and they would have to go inside.
CHAPTER TEN
Maeve unfastened all the luggage from Idris and removed the harness so he could return to his usual form. They embraced the moment he was back to himself. “You see? We got here perfectly safe. There’s no sign we were seen by anyone,” he said into her hair. She was too relieved to even protest the point, and she let herself enjoy his embrace for a long moment, his body solid and reassuring. “We should get the stuff inside the cave, at least,” he said. “Then, we can rest.”
They carried their things inside, a little cautiously at first. The cavern was spacious and echoing, but it appeared to narrow as it traveled back and downward. Though perfectly normal to every sense, there was a feeling of uncanniness about the place, as if they were being watched by a thousand unseen eyes. But in the center of the first chamber, there was a spot that had obviously been used for camping many times in millennia past. A worn circle of blackened rocks was surrounded by a wide flat area, and a small stream of water trickled nearby. It was both comforting and extremely suspicious. Who would camp in the entrance to the Underworld? It didn’t seem like it could be anyone friendly.
But they sat down together and ate and drank. Maeve stretched her legs, and Idris sorted out their bags and enchanted everything to be smaller and nearly weightless. “Why didn’t you do that before we left?” she asked, curious as to why he would make the journey harder on himself.
“Sometimes, spells can go a little strange when passing between courts. Since I was already managing such a big transformation, I didn’t want to be burdened with a bunch of other magic to keep watch over, should I have to make adjustments,” he said, handing her the now extremely light satchel. She slipped it over her shoulder and nodded, acknowledging the sense of his explanation. The courts were very different places, each having their own magical rules. They were almost different realities all together.
During her lesson with Fenella, Oisin had asked why there were three courts. Maeve had never thought about it before, but it did seem somewhat arbitrary. Fenella had explained the origin of the courts in mortal mythology, but admitted that the true reason was because it had worked. In times long passed, there had been many courts, appearing and disappearing as wars were won or treaties made. Three was, it seemed, the magic number for reducing conflict and promoting stability, but Fenella had opined that if the courts could ever reach a sort of unified consensus on magical law, they might merge as well. It would save a lot of unnecessary magic, which some believed might be in shorter and shorter supply in the future.
Maeve doubted her father or her brother would have any interest merging with the other courts. She had no knowledge of the Court of Waves except what Fenella had taught her, but she knew Lord Cian despised the Court of the Heavens for many reasons, their formerly mortal queen and reforms regarding the treatment of their subjects being high on his list of grievances. He thought it might give his people ideas. But if the chance, however unlikely, came for Maeve to inherit the throne, what would she do? It could be a chance to make a real difference. She wondered what Idris would think, but it didn’t seem the time to talk about the far away and impossible future. He shouldered his own bag and took her hand. “Ready to go?”
“As ready as I can be,” she agreed, swallowing. They strode together into the unknown.
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The tunnel was dark, the only light coming from luminescent fungus that grew from the ceiling like a galaxy of false stars. Idris tried to illuminate the way with magic, because the footing was uneven, but the small globe of light blinked and fizzled out almost the moment he cast it. “There’s something about the magic of this place that doesn’t like the light,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. The deeper they went into the cave, the more stifling the atmosphere became, as if it resented anything that went against its nature. For this was the land of the dead, to which light, sound, and movement were anathema. Maeve felt very unwelcome.
The passage narrowed, and they were forced to walk single file, hands clasped in the darkness. A chill wind whistled through the stalactites high above them, and mist eddied around their feet. Maeve could have sworn she heard voices whispering in her ear, words just outside the range of hearing that nonetheless made her shiver. Idris squeezed her hand, and then the chamber opened wide, soaring above and below them in a vast, echoing emptiness littered with glowing crystals. She could hear the sound of water rushing below them, and ahead, a narrow wooden and rope bridge served as the only way across. It didn’t look at all safe. Idris paused at the edge, peering into the distance.
“I think we have to walk across. There’s a power here, suppressing magic. If it grows too much stronger, it might end up undoing the spell I put on our bags as well. We’ll just have to be careful.” Though it might perhaps have been wiser to go separately, she was glad that he didn’t let go of her hand. The wooden planks creaked ominously when he put his foot on them, but they held. Wind howled through the chasm below them, driving up great gouts of spray that made the wood slippery and dangerous. Their movement was slow,
and Maeve’s stomach fluttered every time the bridge swayed under their feet, but even so, when they made it halfway across, she relaxed, sure that the worst was over.
A CRACK reverberated off the walls, and they were falling. There was no time to think; she screamed, and she felt a spell surround them, but it only slowed their fall enough so that their plunge into the icy water was shocking rather than actually painful. Idris’s hand still grasped hers as the current yanked them forward. She came up to the surface with a gasp only to be pulled under again. All was darkness and water roaring in her ears as she was spun around and thrown against rocks, helpless and bruised, her lungs burning. Of course, she had lost Idris sometime in the interim, and when she came up for air again, she looked for him, half-panicked, half-exhausted. He emerged beside her, choking on water, but as soon as he saw her, his eyes shone with relief, and his hand gripped hers again, so tight it was almost painful. They could barely swim hard enough to keep their heads above the surface, and they were too tired and preoccupied to notice the noise of rushing water getting louder. Perhaps they allowed themselves to ignore it so as not to shatter the illusion of momentary safety. Then they were flung over the edge of a cliff and out into empty space. Maeve somehow had the presence of mind to take a breath before she was once again driven into the cold depths.
Their momentum sent them deep into the water, but for some reason, she could see a faint light against her eyelids. When she opened her eyes, she saw below them a rippling silver light, like moonlight shining through the surface of the water. It made no sense, but she could feel the power radiating from it, so when Idris, or the shadow of him against the light, motioned for her to swim downward, she did so without question. In her mind, she thanked Conall for his insistence in teaching her how to swim at a young age, seeing a flash of regret-tinged memory, images of a summer spent in sunlight and laughter. She felt the moment that the world twisted around her, when she was no longer struggling with gravity against her body’s natural buoyancy and was suddenly shooting toward the surface, still moving in the direction of the silver light.
Her head broke through the water, and sweet air filled her lungs again. She didn’t even question the apparent paradox of finding air at the bottom of a lake. For one thing, she was exhausted, and for another, when you lived in the world of magic and were traveling through the Underworld to remove a curse, a little reversal of gravity was hardly anything to remark upon. Maeve swam forward as best she could with her tired limbs and sodden clothes, and Idris sloshed into the water and pulled her forward until they were both on the shore. She had lost her bag, but somehow all of their luggage was sitting on the ground next to them, undamaged. Idris pulled out some blankets, and after a couple of tries, he managed to conjure a fire.
“Whatever had been working against my magic seems to have weakened,” he said almost to himself, and then he looked up at her. “Let’s get out of our wet clothes, so we can warm up properly.” They helped each other, shivering as they pulled off the wet leather, peeled the fabric from their skin and spread the whole mess beside the fire before huddling together in the blankets. Even in the somewhat dangerous and frightening situation she found herself in, the sensation of Idris’s skin against hers was soothing. They dozed, not waking until the fire was nothing but embers, and their clothing was stiff, but dry. As Maeve was trying to smooth the wrinkles out her tunic, Idris suddenly embraced her tightly. She looked up at him in surprise. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m just grateful you’re all right,” he murmured against her hair. “I was too tired to think about it before, but I keep remembering the moment that the bridge broke. I thought we were done for. We really should have died.”
Maeve shivered and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I was trying not to think about it, but it was honestly terrifying. I’m glad we’re both all right, but still, do you think we’ll be able to get to the Underworld after such a wild detour?” The whole experience would be even worse if it prevented them from accomplishing what they’d come to do.
“There’s no way to know for sure,” Idris said, “as there aren’t any maps or directions, but I don’t think we’ve gone off course. I think it was some sort of test, though of what I have no idea. We both lost our bags, yet when we came ashore, they were sitting right here, not even wet. I feel like, as scary as it was, the cave itself is leading us where we need to go.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, sighing. “But I suppose there’s nothing to do but keep going.” He nodded and pulled away to hand her the bag. It was still as light as ever, so at least the spells were intact.
“You’re right,” he said, and he took her hand. “All we can do is move forward. But if we come to any more bridges, I think I might try to fly over first,” he added with a wry smile. They both took a last look around the chamber, filing it in their memory for the trip back. It was mostly filled with water; the ceiling was low and speckled with crystals that shone dully in a rainbow of colors. The water was still as glass, reflecting the colors above like a mirror made of jet. Now that she wasn’t half-drowned, Maeve was struck by the cavern’s ethereal beauty. There was only one exit, a narrow tunnel, barely more than a crack in the wall, right beside the remains of their little fire. They went inside, moving cautiously. Even though they walked single file, they had to turn sideways sometimes to avoid bumping into the walls. She decided it was a good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic.
The tunnel sloped sharply downward, and the mist, which had before been only a few wisps around their feet, began to fill the area, until they could see nothing but gray. “Don’t let go of my hand,” Idris said, his voice echoing oddly, but it was a warning Maeve didn’t hesitate to heed. Once again, she felt like she heard voices in the fog, whispering secrets in her ear that she couldn’t quite understand. Goosebumps prickled on the back of her neck as they moved even more slowly over the uneven ground. A gust of wind chilled her skin as it swept the fog away.
They both gasped at the enormous cavern before their eyes. It was larger even than the throne room in her father’s fortress, the ceiling soaring above their heads glowing with thousands of colored crystals like stained glass. Mist still swirled around their feet, but they could see a large pedestal in the center of the chamber. Maeve moved toward it, feeling drawn and knowing, somehow, that it was important. “It’s a fire pit,” she said after a moment, frowning.
“That is a little strange,” Idris agreed, crouching down next to the stones and wiping off a layer of soot. He drew in a sharp breath, rocking back on his heels.
“What is it?” she asked with some concern.
“Well, we’ve definitely arrived in the Underworld,” he said, his face set in a grim line. “The carvings say, ‘Behold the fire of Fate which warms the Cauldron of Life and Death.’ This must be where the Cauldron of Rebirth belongs.”
“Oh.” That explained why there would be a fire pit but opened up another slew of questions. “But if the Cauldron isn’t here, where is it? You don’t think…?” A horrible thought came into her mind. It couldn’t be true, but it made too much sense.
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Idris said, standing again and putting his hand on her shoulder. “We assumed that your grandfather only tried to steal the Cauldron, but what if he actually succeeded? It could still be in the Court of Bones, even now. Though, in that case, you have to wonder why they haven’t been using it.”
Maeve shivered. “But if my father still has the Cauldron, I can’t imagine the Cailleach would ever agree to undo the curse until it’s returned,” she said, her heart racing with growing panic even as a weight of despair seemed to hang itself around her neck.
Idris slid his arm around her waist and kissed her hair. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right by your side. But let’s not give up yet. We haven’t even spoken to the Cailleach.”
She knew he was right, but it was difficult to stay calm in this situation. The idea of stealing the Cauldr
on was so wrong she could barely comprehend it. It wasn’t just a useful object, but a mythological treasure that had created the very fabric of the world. No wonder the Cailleach had cursed them. “But she doesn’t seem to be here. I don’t see anyone.” There appeared to be a sort of dais on the other side of the chamber, and a throne carved in the side of a massive tree root that was growing through the wall, but it was covered in dust and cobwebs. Whoever was meant to sit there had been gone a long time.
“You’re right. And there doesn’t seem to be any entrances or exits. Even where we came from has disappeared,” he said, standing up and looking all around. Maeve realized he was right, and it only added to her feelings of unease. “Hello? Is anyone here?” Idris called out. She wasn’t sure whether she imagined an answering whisper from the mist. Otherwise, there was no sign of movement. “I wonder what would happen if we lit the fire? If I’m reading the inscription correctly, even the fire pit has a power of its own.”
“In that case, do we really want to disturb it? What if it curses you too?” Maeve protested. That was the last thing they needed. She was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to drink his own blood, and hers certainly wouldn’t do anything to cure him.
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I don’t think we need to worry about that. We won’t be stealing anything. Plus, there’s no one here to do the cursing. The worst that can happen is that nothing happens. Either the magic here won’t allow us to the light the fire, or the fire will do nothing for us but keep us warm.”
