by Lindsay
Just as he needed to take his own mind off the traitorous feelings he"d experienced in the Humans" prison cell. He nudged her with his shoulder and nodded toward the land in the distance. “Do you see that? Those cliffs, and the beach below?”
Cerridwen nodded mutely.
“That is the scene of a very important battle. The last battle against the Human invaders on Éire.” He glanced quickly at the Empath, and saw that she studied him with suspicion. “You have seen the tapestry of Amergin"s defeat of the Tuatha De Danann in your mother"s Throne Room?”
“I did not pay attention to the tapestries,” Cerridwen said flatly.
“You should have,” he said, jovial, as if they were on their way to a pleasant destination and not a likely execution. “You would have learned something.”
She stared at him as though he"d gone mad.
“You see, those cliffs, right there, are the very same cliffs that the Mílseans approached in their boats when they came to avenge the death of Ith.” He paused, remembering the approach of those boats as if it had been only a few years before. He"d been young then, excited to be a part of Queene Banbha"s Court, and ready to fight the fragile Humans who sought to take their land. If he had known then that it would not be the first time he would defend his race from Humans, that there would be a time in the future, under a much different Queene, he would not have relished the battle so. “When the battle terms were drawn, it was agreed that Amergin would lead his ships nine wave lengths from the shore, to give the De Danann time to assemble their forces. To give them a fair chance. When they returned at the agreed upon time, we raised such a storm as you could not imagine.”
“I cannot imagine any storm. I was born underground,” she reminded him sullenly. Then, as if resigned to her history lesson, she asked, “What happened then?”
“The Old Gods were not with us that day. Amergin charmed them with his words, and they gave over the battle to him.” The failure stung as much as the failure to contain the Humans underground, hundreds of years later.
The Empath slapped the water with her oar, startling them both. “Liar!”
“Were you there?” he asked, knowing that she had not been. He remembered the faces of each and every Faery that had stood on those cliffs. “If you were not, how can you know the tale in its truth?”
She brandished the oar like a weapon. “The Fae are never defeated! Queene Danae will not tolerate such insolence!”
Young, then. Perhaps younger than Cerridwen, if she was so naive as to believe revised history from a false ruler. He let her feel pity, twisted with disdain for her foolishness. “The Fae have been defeated before. Many times, in cities all around the world. They have been forced underground, like rats. You might choose to ignore that, but that does not make your delusions true.”
She cursed and beat the oar against the side of the boat, but she did not pursue the matter further.
“Listen to the wind, and the water,” Cedric said softly, recapturing Cerridwen"s attention.
The fear in her made her eyes dark, the rapid beat of her heart visible in the black pools within them. “They will tell you so much here.”
She shook her head. “They have never spoken to me before. Why should they now?”
“Because you were never here before. This place is magic. There is not magic in it. It is magic.” He closed his eyes and saw the winds, shimmering, rose-colored, as they twined playfully together above the waves, which stabbed up, more blue than any color he could have seen with his eyes, as though they sought to steal the sky"s place above the horizon.
And, in the distance, the green of Éire, pulsing like a beating heart. “Can you not feel it?”
When he opened his eyes, he saw that hers were closed. Her sightless face lifted to the sky, and her eyelids, creased with concentration, smoothed as her mouth curved into a smile.
“Yes!” She looked at him, stars of amazement replacing the fear in her eyes. “Yes, I can feel it!”
“Enjoy it,” the Empath snapped. “You will not have a chance once Queene Danae passes sentence on you.”
Cedric concentrated on his annoyance, so that the Faery would feel it, and not realize that he knew she was right.
It seemed they waited hours in the blinding sunlight for the rest of the Faeries to depart from the Human ship. They squeezed into the boats, five, six of them, with all of their belongings, so that the carved wooden hulls dipped low in the water.
“They will fly, once they are close enough to the shore,” Cedric had told Cerridwen when she expressed her concern at this. “Some of them have not flown for hundreds of years, and will not pass up the opportunity.”
She watched as the Faeries who had come aboard as her guard retinue jumped down to the boats, bearing packs on their backs. She wondered how much of what she had brought aboard had been recovered, but it seemed a small concern, knowing they would likely die for her actions. Once all of the Faeries were off the ship, the boats began to move, theirs leading the procession, toward the land in the distance.
The boat she and Cedric occupied was much the same as the other boats, carved from wood so thick that it appeared as though it should be too heavy to float, with intricate designs of chains and knot work etched into the surface. The center scooped low to the surface of the water, and the two ends rose up into high, curved points. They looked like something out of the tapestries in the Palace. She had paid attention to them, though she would not admit it to Cedric. In truth, she"d wiled away many hours staring at the picture-stories of the heroes who"d come from the island they now approached, and she felt a particular shame at coming to the place as a prisoner.
The boats cut through the water with surprising speed, considering that only one Faery manned the oars in each. The water grew more treacherous as they came nearer to the land, and each wave tossed them a bit higher before dropping them down again. Keeping her balance became difficult, with her arms bound.
Cedric did not appear to be having the same difficulty. “Lean against me,” he said quietly, and she complied, though not just for the stability. His wings rustled and snapped open, providing surprising strength at her back, as fragile as they appeared.
“I don"t want to break you,” she whispered, laying her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes. It intensified the feeling of rising and falling as they battled the waves, but it was less disorienting.
He chuckled at that. “You will not break me. And if you did, it would not be worse than if you fell into the sea.”
A phantom of what she"d felt in the prison cell teased at her. She"d been so sure then that he had been close to disclosing something, something that she did not wish to hear. Now, that seemed foolish, and egotistical of her to think that…that what? That he had fallen in love with her? So soon after losing his Human love? After the Faery Court had been destroyed?
How stupid, to think that anyone had time for something so frivolous as love.
And how stupid to believe that, even if they were in the Underground, and they were truly mates, he would love her, anyway. She was a spoiled child. He was wise, anciently so. He would have no reason to feel that way toward her.
Even less so now that she had all but condemned them to death.
The feeling that someone was watching her pricked the back of her head, and she turned to find the Empath"s piercing violet eyes fixed on her. She knew. Cerridwen"s heart dropped to her stomach and she turned away, mind racing with panic that was only made worse by the knowledge that the Empath felt it, too. Was nothing safe?
She forced her mind to what lay ahead, but tried to view it with cool and calm. When they arrived, there was sure to be some sort of trial. She had never had to address a Queene who was not her mother. That might work in her favor. If she were to die, she would like to do so with a dignity she could paradoxically muster through youthful impertinence, and that dignity would likely contribute to a death sentence, as it would be gained by not cowering in the face of a False Que
ene. But it had not been Cedric"s hand that had wielded the dagger that killed Bauchan. He should not be punished, but her angry words might condemn him, as well. Or, according to her own logic, being seen as an enemy, Cedric would likely be killed in any event.
She wished there were some way to communicate with him, some moment they could have alone to plan what was to come. It was almost certain they would not have that time.
The Empath shook her head and shot an angry glare at them. “Enough of your confusion!
Can your simple minds comprehend anything?”
“She is angry because her gift cannot be turned off as she wishes,” Cedric said with a smirk.
“Whatever you are feeling overwhelms her.”
“As if you are not feeling the same as she is right now.” The Empath turned back to her rowing, her head held high.
“I am not.” Cedric spoke with such certainty that Cerridwen was left with no doubt. He knew what she felt for him, and he did not reciprocate those feelings.
The land in the distance grew steadily from a gray line to a gray line that radiated green above and gold below, finally coming into shape before Cerridwen"s eyes. The cliffs looked more like wood than rock, grained as they were with lines of different color. The dominant gray layered with shimmering tan, brilliant white, and the dull green of wet moss. Dots of black flickered over the surface of the cliffs in some places, and Cerridwen rubbed her eyes.
“What is that?” she asked, wishing she could point, not caring how childlike that would seem.
“A bird that nests in the rocks.” Cedric looked down at her with an expression of sadness.
“Much different than the ones you would have seen in the Underground.”
It was as if it had struck him just now that she had never been in the Upworld, had never seen animals beyond those companions to the Humans in the Underground. She was not certain if she should be pleased by this ability to surprise him, or just embarrassed. She did not like to appear foolish, but somehow, it seemed she should not feel foolish when it was him noticing how little she knew about the world above.
An unexpected pang of sadness came over her. She had expected to be separated from him when they reached the Upworld settlement. Had looked forward to it, even. But she had not foreseen that it would be so painful, so terribly lonely.
It was almost a comfort that she would probably be put to death. She thought she might prefer that to being cast into this new world alone.
It seemed there would be no place for the boats to land. What had appeared at first to be a beach was quickly swallowed up by the water. “The tide has come in,” the Empath said, whether to them or herself, Cerridwen could not tell. “We must increase our pace.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot help you,” Cedric replied serenely. “Perhaps if you untied us—”
“Untie him!” Cerridwen shouted, too eager, she knew in hindsight. She swallowed and licked her lips, tried to calm the hysteria she felt. “He did not kill Bauchan. It was my hand that held the blade. He is no danger to you.”
“Cerridwen—” Cedric began, but something in his face registered that he suspected she might have thought her action through, no matter how quickly those thoughts would have had to have come.
Trust me, she pleaded with him silently. Just trust me.
He stopped himself and turned to present his bound hands to the Empath. “She speaks the truth. If you wish to reach the beach before the tide comes in, I suggest you cut me free.”
After a reluctant moment, she did, setting aside the oar and pulling a sharpened stone blade from the belt at her waist. Her hand moved fast, imprecise, and Cedric winced. When he brought his freed hands in front of him, blood dripped from a slice along his arm.
But he was free.
If they walked into the settlement bound as prisoners, neither of them would be heard, not in seriousness, and both of them would face the executioner. If Cedric were free, walking straight and tall, trusted by someone who was obviously important to the Queene—important enough to retrieve Bauchan—he might save himself. A wild part of her dared to hope he might be able to save her, as well.
Cedric reached for her and pulled her to sit on the floor of the craft, so that she would not pitch over the side as they rowed over the increasingly hostile waves. She met his gaze as he did, urging him silently once again to trust her, and, as if understanding, he nodded.
They sped for the beach, tossing more perilously with every stroke of the oars. Before, it seemed the waves carried them closer to shore. Now, they prevented them from coming closer.
“We have reached the ninth wave!” the Empath shouted as a violent swell broke over the front of the boat. Above them, the sky turned to menacing darkness.
“Look!” Cerridwen shouted, at once afraid of and enthralled by the surge of power that split the sky like white fire. “Cedric, look!”
“Lightning,” he called back to her. “Éire welcomes you home!”
As if he had forgotten about the death sentences that hung over them, he turned his face to the sky, and lifted his arm in greeting, waving to the black clouds that boiled through the air like ink in water.
No, not to the clouds, she saw as she followed his gaze. A figure, robed in white, stood on the cliff above, waving back.
“It cannot be,” Cedric said, gaping in amazement. The Empath gave him a distrustful, sidelong glare, but said nothing.
As quickly as they had risen, the clouds rolled back, following the exact pattern they had fanned out in. The waves calmed and died. The sea became as flat as glass, and the wind became so silent that the voice of the robed figure could be heard, even as far away as they floated. “Hurry! I cannot stop the tide forever! She is far too insistent today!”
“I cannot believe my eyes,” Cedric said, taking up his oar with renewed fervor.
His excitement was not mimicked by the Empath. “Believe it. There are many of them. So many, we are overrun, even as we rule this island.”
When they reached the shallow waters near the beach, Cedric and the Empath jumped out, splashing into the sea up to their knees to pull the boat ashore. Thick chains protruded from the bottom of the cliff, and they strained to pull the craft over the sand.
“This is far enough,” the Empath said, out of breath. She attached a chain to the boat while Cedric lifted Cerridwen out and set her feet in the sand.
She stumbled as she took her first steps, the strange sinking of the ground beneath her feet throwing her off her balance.
“Go slowly,” Cedric advised quietly, while the Empath was distracted. “You"ll get used to it soon enough.”
She lifted her eyes to the cliff face. “How will we get up there, to the land?” She hoped they did not expect her to fly.
Cedric nodded to a crack in the rock. “There is a path, through the cliffs. It will keep us hidden, if there are any Human Enforcers about.”
“There are no free Humans on Éire,” the Empath snapped. She jerked her head toward the cliff. “But yes, we will walk.”
The other Faeries had landed, as well, and a steady stream of them crushed around Cerridwen and Cedric as they passed under the narrow, pointed arch of the crevice in the cliff. The Empath shuddered as the cool darkness passed over them, but for the first time in days, Cerridwen was able to breathe freely. The damp air, tinged with salt and the clean smell of the sea, was not like the air at home, in the Underground, but it was close enough. At times, the walls allowed only enough room for them to walk two-abreast on the upward-sloping path.
In the dark, Cedric"s arm slipped around her waist and pulled her close to his side. She peered through the blackness, aided by the yellow light from her antennae, the blue from his. He stared straight ahead, expression grim. All the joy of the sea and sky that she had witnessed had disappeared from him, once he was underground again.
They walked for a long time, until the sand beneath their feet gave way to rock, and then, inexplicably, to soil. The incline became sharp
er; with her hands tied, Cerridwen leaned into Cedric"s hold, dependent on him to keep her from slipping down. The darkness abated as they went, misty light creeping up around them, until they reached the end of the tunnel and stood once again under the open sky, through another crack in the earth directly above their heads.
Two boulders with little space between them jutted from the earthen walls; with surprising speed, the Empath darted from one to the other, up and out of the hole.
Cerridwen looked up at Cedric, saw his fair brow crease as he worked out the problem of how to get her out, as well. But then the Empath"s face appeared at the hole, and her reaching arms. “Hand her up to me,” she ordered.
Cedric gripped Cerridwen at the waist and tossed her up, catching her around the knees as she wobbled precariously in his grasp. The Empath took her by the shoulders and dragged her out of the opening, scraping her along the rocks as she did so. Once she was free, the Empath tossed her down like a sack of flour and walked away.
“Let me help you,” a kind voice spoke at her side, and she looked up, into the lined face of a Human male. His features were dissimilar from Malachi"s, but, at the same time, very similar, as though all mortals must look alike. He had the same patches of white at his temples that Malachi had had, but his dark hair was more coarse, his face less handsome.
Cedric had emerged from the tunnel mouth and rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”
Seeing the Human, his mouth split into a wide grin. “Amergin. How have you returned?”
“The same way that you could.” The man"s voice was deep and gravely. “When the Veil split, I wound up here, the same as you.”
Cedric"s brow furrowed. “Did it happen to all of you?”
“Only those of us worshipped as heroes.” He gave his answer without embarrassment, but there was no pride in it, either. “You have brought a prisoner?”
“We are both prisoners, actually. The Empath cut my bonds so that I could help row us ashore.” He lifted his wrist and displayed the slashed skin there. “None too gently, I am afraid. But I hope to lose the impression of captivity before we meet Queene Danae.”
