Briok let himself be caught up in the moment, and felt his spirit lighten even as he ran awkwardly, but steadily toward the cliff trail.
They scrambled hand over foot up the steep trail, as fast as their bodies would allow. Their lithe bodies bent nearly double, as they followed the sheep trail ever upward.
Gwenth kept looking over at the dark underside of the beachhead. Yes there could be a cave entrance there. She wondered why she had never noticed it before.
“Do you think you are ever going to free your magic?” Briok reached over head grabbing onto the low lying brush to pulling himself slowly forward up the incline.
Gwenth felt her left eye twitch. The last month had been hard. The sisters had pushed her, but she could still barely do the most basic magic. What she could do wasn’t enough to save anyone, she was quite sure of that. Meredith had encouraged her all along the way, even when the other two sisters had only hissed at her attempts, but still her powers were very poor indeed. Gwenth pushed her sweaty red hair out of her eyes. Suddenly, she stopped and turning on the trail, she looked Briok right in the eye. “Well I sure wish I could put us right on top of the cliff without all this work and sweat,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Briok looked at his friends flushed face. He saw the twitch. “I see the twitch is back.”
Gwenth turned quickly away, brushing the back of her hand across her eye. “It’s nothing, I’m probably just tired from trying to see your wings,” she said.
“You don’t have to hide it, ya know. I can see you’re afraid and I know about that too,” he said, as he scrambled over the white stones to catch up to her on the trail.
Gwenth looked over at Briok. “You do? I mean you are afraid?”
“Sure, look at me I can’t do magic either and I won’t be able to until I get back home and have my awakening. I feel afraid of not getting back, and of maybe needing to hide my wings forever.”
Gwenth patted Briok’s shoulder and felt the hard wing connections under her hand.
“I’m not a very good witch am I?”
Briok laughed and shook his head. “Maybe not now, but someday you will be a mighty witch. Did I ever tell you I dreamt that?”
Gwenth reached over the embankment grabbing for handholds she pulled herself over the edge and threw herself down upon the solid ground. “No, you never told me that. When was that?”
Pulling himself over the edge, Briok laid back in the sparse grass, not far from Gwenth. His body trembled uncontrollably from the physical exertion. “That was a horrible climb.” Briok carefully slid the back of his hand across his face, wiping the sweat away. His breath came out ragged and loud. “It just came back to me, again, the other night. It took me a while to recognize you,” he said huffing.
Gwenth sat up and looked out over the rough water, she felt herself blush. “Well a great witch, I don’t know about that? Come on, we better hurry I want to show you the wall and from here I can see the wind has come up and there are whitecaps, we are in for a storm,” she said. Gwenth stood easily and brushed her long skirt off.
Briok followed Gwenth along the edge of the cliff and out onto the rocky headland. Here the stone cap protruded far out over the sea. Looking about the headland, it was clear to him that the wind blew hard all year round. The wind had scoured away every trace of soil, leaving the brightly colored stone exposed. Except for a few hardy lichens that clung unperturbed by the winds, nothing else grew on the stone’s smooth face. Briok noticed dark smudges that stained the rock’s surface; they lay like great burn marks across the face of the stone. Bending to examine the stone more closely, Briok realized the marks were in part circular striations. The lines moved outward across the stone’s glossy surface, he laid his palm against the stone, it felt smooth and cold to his touch, but from a deep faraway place he sensed it was familiar to him. Standing back up, he could see the stone’s width was great. His mind raced ahead, he had to tell Gwenth. Turning away from the stone, he saw she had wondered down into a low depression set back from the cliff’s edge. There, he could see a stone wall stretching out in a semi-circle. Briok hurried down into the basin shaped hollow. No wind entered the hollow, set below and behind the cap as it was, but still nothing grew upon the rocky ground. The wall appeared in good shape; he strolled over and ran his hands over the stones. He could feel how closely they fit together. At the end of the semi-circle a piece of the wall lay on its side. These stones lay in shambles and several of the stones were grossly misshapen. “I wonder what happened here,” he said pointing the damaged piece to Gwenth.
“Papa always said the story goes that giants had some kind of machine that could melt rock, and that time stopped the day the stones fell.”
Briok felt a shiver race along his spine. Could a story have reached from his time into Gwenth’s world? He forced himself to walk slowly around the inner perimeter of the wall. It was hard to tell, but he had a bad feeling. Stopping midway he got down and began to dig slowly in the sandy soil.
“What are you doing?”
“Well,” he said continuing to dig, “When I was young I buried a small box of magicked wood my mother had made for me.”
Gwenth felt confused. “Why would you dig here?” Are you still saying that you think this is the same place, as in your world? I don’t understand how that can be?”
Briok stopped digging and looked up at Gwenth, “It is! I’m sure of it. Up there, that stone, the glossy one, it is so much the same as my great Rowan back home, even the stone has rings like a tree, and this has to be the same wall though I can’t imagine how any of that can be. I want some proof, if I can get it.” He turned his attention back to the small hole he had hollowed out in the packed soil.
Gwenth turned away, her eyes searched the ground as she walked. Finding what she was looking for she bent down and picked up a small, but sturdy stick. Turning around, she walked over the rough ground to where Briok knelt before the stone. “Here, if this is the same wall, there may be a lot of sand on top of the box,” she said, handing him the stick.
Briok looked up and seeing the stick, took it from her. “Thanks. I think you’re right.” He knelt down and with the stick began to break loose the dirt in the hole.
Gwenth turned away and walked to the outer most edge of the cliff. Here the winds scoured the rock bare all along the outcropping. Gwenth looked down at the strange, smooth stone under her feet. It was an odd rock; she had seen very few like it. She would show Briok the others, though they were far smaller. Looking up, she watched the storm clouds gathering out over the sea. The clouds had grown steadily taller and were now heavy and dark with rain. The wind had risen steadily as well, and it took Gwenth some effort, to stay upright in the wind, as it came blasting over the water. She heard what sounded like a keening far out over the sea. The sound cut straight through her and she felt her fear rise up, as if it could almost choke her. Gwenth swallowed hard, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickling. Maybe, this wasn’t the best time to be high up here on the headlands. She studied the white caps, trying to gauge the storm’s ferocity, when suddenly she was hit from behind. Gwenth fell to the ground.
The wind, which had been howling only moments before was suddenly silent. She felt an odd sense of peace come over her, as she watched the gathering storm raging out to sea. Gwenth lay still. Her mind wondered aimlessly. She stared out over the grey water. Her breath came ragged and her side gave a searing jolt of pain when she tried to breathe too deeply. It hurt too much to breath. She would close her eyes, just for a moment. Briok wouldn’t mind.
Suddenly her eyes flew open. Briok was in danger! She had to get up. Gwenth, tried to rise up, but fell back as the pain tore through her. Desperate now, she searched her memory, finally hitting upon an idea. Carefully, painfully, she rolled to her stomach, and began slowly inching her way backwards, till she was on her knees. Sweat rolled into Gwenth’s eyes, she fought hard not to lose the contents of her stomach or her consciousness. She saw the Row
an branch lying forgotten on the stone, where it landed when she fell. Reaching out she pulled it close, and swung it under her, using it to force herself upright.
She turned as quickly as she dared, pain seared throughout her body, but her instincts to protect her friend, drove her on. She was very afraid that whatever had knocked her down would have already killed Briok. Gwenth couldn’t believe her eyes; as she focused her eyes on the stone wall. Briok was fighting hand to hand with a gigantic brown bear. Where had it come from? There hadn’t been any bears, in the wilds of Scotland for many years.
Gwenth startled as she was still couldn’t help but stare at the bear, which rather than just outright killing the Fey, seemed to be trying to tear off Briok’s coat instead. Gwenth’s eyes searched the bare ground for a weapon. Just then Dembys whispered in her ear, reminding her of the skipping stone in her pouch. Gwenth reached into her pouch and removed the last stone; she hobbled as near as she dared. She knew she would have but one chance. Gwenth steadied herself with the branch under her bad arm, and leaning back as far as she dared, she took careful aim at the bear’s large brown head. Hopefully it would be enough. It had to be enough. Gwenth snapped her wrist and released the stone in mid-air, as she did the branch unwittingly came slamming down hard upon the earth. The stone flew through the air as if driven by a steadier hand than she possessed, right toward its mark.
The ground trembled ever so slightly; the bear sensing trouble turned its head, out toward the sea, just as the stone arrived crashing into its thick brown snout. The bear roared out, in pain and fell to the ground. It lay momentarily stunned rubbing its great paws across its injured snout. Blood gushed from the torn skin. The bear rose up on its haunches and angrily shook out’s its shaggy mane. The creature threw its large head back, and the animal’s great roar cut like a knife through the keening sounds of the rising wind. The bear dropped to its four feet and rushed at Gwenth.
Gwenth had hoped to knock the bear out. It was obvious; she had only angered the bear. She felt herself tremble with fear, as the bear opened its gaping maw and let out a terrific roar. It was clear even to her fear filled brain the beast would be upon her in a flash. Gwenth could do nothing more, she knew she was too injured to run and there was not time to find or launch a second stone. Gwenth steeled herself, forced herself to rise up to her full height, even as the bear stepped within reach. She felt the wind change as its great paw slashed outward ready to take her head. In anger, her arm slammed the branch into the ground as she shouted, “No!” The ground shifted and rolled as if hit by a sledge hammer. The bear lurched and lost its footing, its momentum coupled with the undulating ground carried it right past Gwenth. She threw herself to the ground, trying to avoid the bear’s body as it hurled past her. She could see that though the beast tried, the bear could not scramble backwards fast enough. Gwenth watched from her place on the ground, as the bear’s great hulking body careened over the cliff’s edge. She heard its great roar as it fell headlong towards the sea.
Briok ran first to the cliff’s edge and carefully looked over. Below storm waters were crashing, carrying the sea’s waves high up onto the rocky shore. There was no sign at all of the bear. Briok turned back to see what was taking Gwenth so long.
Gwenth stood slowly. She felt her energy waning. Her hair had come loose from its braid during the struggle and now hung like a curtain before her eyes. Gwenth reached her bloody hand up, to push her hair out of the way, but exhausted she faltered and fell to the ground.
Briok tried, but didn’t reach Gwenth before she landed hard. He saw the blood seeping out onto the ground and realized Gwenth’s right arm seemed to hang funny as well. Turning her as carefully as he could he saw that her blouse was ripped through, claws had made a great gash under her arm. Briok blanched, as he felt his breakfast rising in his throat.
At her throat Dembys was pulsating. Briok felt the pull of the crystal and nervously put out his finger to touch the stone.
“She is very bad Briok. I can see she wants to go away, and be with her mother.”
Briok hurriedly pulled his finger away, as if it had been burned by fire. Briok quickly tore his coat off. Bending down he retrieved the Rowan branch, and using material from his coat strung it between his wings, then he carefully lifted Gwenth’s mangled body into his arms as gently as he could. He felt her gasp as he pulled her to his chest, and though he was not allowed to fly, he willed that his wings would work. Nothing happened. Briok bent his will again, pushing away the spell over him. He tried to raise his wings. Pain raced through his body, but he refused to bow to it. Briok pushed harder against the spell, till he heard an audible snap and suddenly he was free, his wings sprung up unharmed and he pushed off the ground and flew towards the cottage. Gwenth lay still in his arms.
Briok flew low over the hills, staying as close to the land as he dared. He hoped that with the impending storm that the folk of this land were all in their homes and away from the windows, but whether it would bring trouble, or not, he would not let this girl die who had defended him, though it had very nearly meant her own death.
Briok looked up at the sky and saw that the rain was almost upon him and from the feel of the wind pressing under his wings; the storm would be a gully washer. Briok pushed on. Though he wasn’t flying against the wind; the gales coming up under his wings were far too strong. He staggered under the constant buffeting as he tried to control his flight. He feared that the coming rain would only make fighting the strong gales that much harder. “Dembys if you can help please do,” he yelled over the screaming wind.
Suddenly the wind seemed to fall away, and he felt as if he was being carried on a wind of sweet sound rather than being abused by the gale. He could see the storm was still raging, but it was if a bubble surrounded the three of them. Briok almost cried he could feel his eyes filling up with water; he was so relieved to know that Dembys was able to help him. “Faster Dembys we have to save her. I too feel her slipping farther away.” On and on they flew through the storm, faster and faster toward the cottage.
Suddenly in his mind Briok could hear Dembys clear ringing voice. “Sing to her, sing the lullaby your mother taught you as a child, it is an old healing song and may keep her in this world.”
Briok’s mind went blank. What lullaby? He racked his memory and suddenly the sound of his mother singing to him as he slept rose up in his memory and he began to hum the song as it unfolded in his mind’s eye. He could feel power in the song. He began to sing the words and as he flew onward he felt the magic rising up within the bubble. He could feel Gwenth responding to the magic. She seemed to breathe easier and so he sang louder.
“Hang on we’re almost there, don’t stop singing no matter what, or I think we’ll lose her.”
Briok saw the cottage come into view and realized that Dembys was not slowing down to land at all. Bracing himself, he bent to shield Gwenth’s body with as much of his own as he could. He tucked his head as he realized she was going to ram through the closed door. Briok wanted to yell out, but he stopped himself and kept singing the lullaby.
At the last possible second Meredith opened the door. Dembys message had reached her and so they all tumbled through the door as the bubble gave way, spilling them out onto the wooden floor. Briok held Gwenth close and let his body soak up the bumpy landing, protecting Gwenth as he could.
Meredith snapped her fingers and stopped Briok’s sliding body from crashing into the stone fireplace.
Meredith ran towards Briok and Gwenth.
Briok stayed focused, not missing a single note of the song. He hoped Dembys would help Meredith understand.
Hectain knelt beside the young Fey and began to loosen his grip on Gwenth. “It’s ok lad, Dembys told us what happened, as you flew home. Now let us have her so we can help her.”
Briok opened his eyes and saw the three sisters all trying to gently free Gwenth, but Briok held her tight within his fierce grasp. He blushed as he realized how tightly he had a hold of Gwenth.
He opened his hands freeing the girl from his grip into their waiting magic.
The sisters lifted Gwenth’s torn body never touching her and instantly they disappeared with her into the sleeping room. Briok sat resting with his back against the fireplace and enjoyed the heat as it crept through his clothes, warming and soothing his tired and sore muscles. He did not stop singing; though nearby he saw the baby lay asleep bundled in her cradle. The child slept on as the lullaby fell almost by rote now, soothingly from his parted lips. His voice rose up, the song ringing throughout the cottage. Even as the sisters worked their own magic upon Gwenth they could feel the deeper magic of the song embracing the girl and they understood that it was this magic that was holding the girl steady as they worked to heal her.
“This was caused by no ordinary bear,” Hectain stated, as they magically undressed the girl and surveyed the large bleeding gash. “I smell a very old magic upon her wounds. I think if she hadn’t had the feathered cape on she would’ve been killed, the magic’s that strong.”
Meredith let her mind reach out, and touch the girl’s injury. She felt the magic too, though it was a more ancient magic than she had ever known. “I see what you are saying sister, but where would such magic come from?”
“I wonder if it came across the same way the children came.” Reval said.
The sisters continued to work quietly on the girl, while they considered Reval’s remark.
Meredith looked at Reval with more than a little awe, “Sister, I do believe you have the gift of foresight.”
Reval smiled for she had known that for some time, and it was nice to have her sisters finally recognize it.
“Sisters I think we should use the song, it’s clearly based on the same kind of magic as the injury. It may be strong enough to help the girl.”
Meredith and Hectain quietly looked at Reval. Silently they nodded their heads in agreement. There would be time to question Reval later, but for now the information felt right. It was a known fact among people of the magical kingdoms that, like worked on like best, or so it did in most cases. The magic the boy was releasing into the cottage was a stronger strain than anything they had access to in the world. They could feel its strength rolling over the girl like a wave of deep peace. Already they could see the terrible bloody gash had stopped bleeding and it seemed the wound looked less inflamed as well.
REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1) Page 19
