The Darkness of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  Corbin’s neck tensed. “And Rowan just left you here?” he asked, finding it difficult to mask his doubt.

  Malcolm smirked. “Who would protect Valenia, brother? Has there not been a presence stalking us? What would Annora do if she was alone? Her powers are too feeble to fight it. She is capable of little more than magic tricks.”

  Corbin shook his head and shifted his gaze to Ailwen. “Please bring the horses around. We will leave at once.”

  Ailwen nodded, and walked off with Barrett down the hall. Corbin looked back on Malcolm with growing animosity. “Did you do something to cause her to leave?”

  Malcolm suddenly looked smug. “Are you accusing me of something, brother?”

  Corbin frowned. “Is there something to be accusing you of?” he asked.

  Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can think of many things to accuse me of, but in truth, driving our beloved princess away is not one of them.” He uncrossed his arms and looked hard at Corbin. “You honestly don’t think Rowan would have let me do such a thing, do you? Don’t forget, brother, our master knows everything.”

  Corbin felt his skin grow hot, even though he was certain Rowan would never let Malcolm drive Mara away. But still, there was something about Malcolm’s manner that sent a warning chill up Corbin’s back. He straightened himself and squared his shoulders so he could be as imposing as possible and looked Malcolm directly in the eye. “For your sake, I hope you’re telling me the truth.”

  Malcolm seemed amused by this. “I see we’ve still not gotten past our little fight. Perhaps we can settle it when you return. For my sake. It wouldn’t be good for two such as us to let it fester too long.”

  It took all of Corbin’s resolve not to grab Malcolm by the shoulders and shake the truth out of him, but every moment wasted speaking to him was a moment wasted in finding Mara. “We shall see,” Corbin said, shouldering past Malcolm towards the great hall.

  He was almost at the door when he heard Malcolm call out to him. “I think Rowan went to Moorthrop. Who knows, maybe they’re already on their way back.”

  The moonless night sky was onyx, save for the dusting of glistening stars across a mass of blackened silk. Some of the dangling jewels of light seemed so close, Mara could almost touch them, but when she reached out, they only moved further away. She tried to center her vision, but even in the distance there was nothing but stars. No trees peeked on the horizon, for there was no horizon, no sound of rivers and no rustling grass could be heard. When Mara looked down, even the ground beneath her feet was nothing more than a blanket of tiny lights that seemed an infinite drop into nothingness, and yet she did not fall.

  Mara knew she should have been afraid in the strange world of only stars, but she was curiously taken by a deep sense of calm. She took a step forward. Her bare foot landed on the invisible shield, and it seemed as if she was walking on air. She opened her mouth to call out, but while the voice she heard was indeed her own, it didn’t come from her lips. Instead, it came through her mind, more like a thought than a spoken word.

  Mara scanned her strange surroundings when her eyes landed on a figure that began to take shape in front of her. She watched as the clouded sphere moved closer, circling itself and growing larger in size. It elongated and stretched until the illuminated figure of a person took shape. Mara shielded her eyes when the light within the figure flashed and then faded from the top down, until she stood before a dark-haired woman in a white robe made of light.

  It took a moment for Mara to see clearly, but when she did, she had to blink several times. The woman had long, dark hair and those gentle, pale green eyes she knew so well, wide with affection. She was looking at her mother.

  Mara held her breath and stepped forward, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the apparition’s face, fearing she might drive it away. “It’s you,” Mara whispered, not hesitating another moment to fall into her mother’s embrace.

  “My daughter.” Her mother’s words came to her like a thought in her mind.

  Mara looked up. “Why can’t I speak?” Her lips moved in vain.

  “You are in spirit, my dear. You don’t need a voice here,” Ethnea said gently.

  Mara nodded and hugged her mother once more. “I’ve missed you terribly,” she said.

  “As have I, child.” Ethnea held Mara and studied her closely when the unmistakable frown of sadness crossed her mother’s lips. “Oh, my child. I am so sorry for leaving you. I am sorry for what you’ve had to endure.”

  Mara hung her head. “Then we are reunited now?”

  Ethnea lifted Mara’s face and shook her head. “No, Mara. We are not.”

  Mara frowned. “Is this simply a dream then?”

  “No. This is the gateway to the Otherworld,” Ethnea said.

  Mara looked around at the vast nothingness. She understood what this meant, but she wasn’t afraid. “I am dying then, aren’t I?”

  Ethnea nodded. “You are. Your soul has left your body for now, but you will not die.”

  Mara felt her eyes well up with tears. “No. Please take me with you. I don’t want to go back there.” The rush of recent memories swept through her, and she hung her head wearily.

  Ethnea’s eyes fell on Mara with sympathy and she stroked her daughter’s hair. “Don’t give up now, child. Not all hope is lost. I know you are tired, but the Light inside you is too strong to give up.”

  Mara grasped her mother’s hands. “I am not giving up. I just want to go with you.”

  Ethnea shook her head. “Oh, how I long for that as well, darling, but it cannot be so.”

  “Why not?” Mara asked.

  “No mortal can enter the Otherworld. And Malcolm has made you mortal.”

  Mara swallowed hard. “You know what has happened, then?”

  “I do,” Ethnea said wistfully.

  “Then how am I here?” Mara asked. “How can I touch you and feel you?”

  “This is simply a gateway, my dear; the empty space between two worlds.”

  “Then why can’t you come back with me?” Mara begged.

  “I can’t, daughter. It was my time to leave.”

  Mara felt the sudden wrench of resentment for all of the things her mother had kept from her. She abandoned her own daughter, leaving her alone and defenseless.

  “I did not leave you to suffer,” Ethnea insisted, as if reading Mara’s thoughts. “There are things happening in your world that you cannot yet understand, and my love for you would have interfered with the outcome. I know this has not been easy for you, but you are not now, nor have you ever been defenseless. You are a great spirit, born of a Light stronger than any descendant since the last of the wars of our kingdoms. And if you leave that world now, Malcolm wins.”

  Mara shook her head. “I can’t stop it, mother.” She pressed her fingers to the spot on her neck where the Lia Fáil once rested. “I’ve lost my powers.”

  Ethnea nodded. “Then you have to get them back, Mara.”

  “But how? Malcolm is too strong.”

  Ethnea’s eyes seemed to harden. “Malcolm is strong of power, yes, but he is weak of spirit.” She put her hand on Mara’s throat where the stone once rested. “And while he may have taken your power, he could not take your spirit.”

  Mara put her hand to her lips and then she looked at her mother. “Then I know what I must do,” she said.

  Ethnea suddenly looked up as though she heard something Mara did not, and then looked back at Mara. “I must send you back now, child.”

  “No. Not yet,” Mara begged.

  Ethnea looked up again. “I must.” She gave her daughter a long embrace.

  Mara tried to fight back tears as the form of her mother began to fade, and then she was left alone once again in the abyss of stars.

  Mara awoke with a start. The smell of burning wood on a hearth filled the air. She turned her head from side to side and moved her arms, but a sharp ache made her cry out.

  “She’s waking up! She’
s waking up!” Annora cried.

  When the haziness of her mind began to clear, Mara opened her eyes to see Annora smiling down at her. Annora grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Mara,” she said. “Mara, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Mara managed to say. Her throat was terribly dry.

  “Here, give her this to drink,” said a raspy, quivering voice.

  Annora pulled Mara forward and propped a folded woolen blanket behind her. Then she put a cup to Mara’s lips. The liquid burned Mara’s throat and she spat most of it back out.

  “No. You must drink it all,” said the raspy voice.

  Mara looked across the room to see a withered, gray-haired woman in a ragged robe. Her face was gaunt, and the pupils of her eyes were cloudy. Despite her fragile frame, Mara noted the woman moved with surprising ease as she walked up and nudged the cup back towards Mara.

  “You must drink it to prevent the rot,” she said, pointing to Mara’s side.

  Mara lifted the coarse blanket and saw she was wrapped in linen from her bust down to the top of her navel. A dark brown stain seeped through the fabric that covered the wound.

  “Don’t worry. It ain’t blood,” croaked the old woman. “It’s a poultice of betony flower.” She forced the cup to Mara’s lips.

  Mara choked it down. “Thank you,” she said with a cough.

  The old woman gave an abrupt nod and walked back towards the fire.

  As Mara examined her surroundings, she realized she was in a twig hut. There were no windows and only a small wooden table and stool for furniture. The floor was earthen and at the far end of the room a small fire burned.

  Annora squeezed Mara’s hand and sat down beside her. “Oh, Mara. We thought you were going to die. I can’t believe you’re alive!”

  “How long have I been here?” Mara asked.

  Annora’s eyes widened. “Thirteen days, Mara. Agatha said you would survive, but as the days wore on, I wasn’t so sure.”

  The woman Annora called Agatha walked up, handed Mara a cup of water and seemed to scowl at Annora. “I told you, girl, I gave her belladonna to keep her still.”

  Mara stared at Annora in disbelief. How could Annora let this strange woman drug her? Annora pretended not to notice the reproachful glare. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

  Mara tried to recall how she got there. “The last thing I remember is being in the forest. And those two men.”

  “Oh Mara, it was an accident,” Annora said. “We were wrong about them. They saved you.”

  “Wasn’t it one of them who stabbed me?” Mara asked skeptically.

  “Well, yes,” Annora conceded, shrugging her shoulders. “But like I said, that was an accident.”

  Mara tried to remember the faces of the two men. “Who are they?”

  Before Annora had a chance to answer her, the wooden door to the cabin opened and in walked a tall, middle-aged man with a dark brown beard. He had to duck in order to enter the low doorway. Mara’s eyes fixed on him with instant recognition.“Drake,” she gasped.

  A look of relief seemed to wash over him. “Miss.” He bowed his head and smiled. “I am thankful to see you are back with us.”

  Mara was speechless and unable to take her eyes off of him. The door beside him opened again and a man ducked through the doorway, almost stumbling into Drake. He was lean with pointed features, and one eye was open slightly wider than the other. “Thank the gods, she’s alive,” he exhaled.

  It was then Mara became aware she was covered in no more than a woolen blanket. Her embarrassment must have shown because Annora rose and motioned for the men to leave. “Let’s get her on her feet before we overwhelm her,” she said, closing the door on the two men.

  “Can you stand?” Annora asked.

  “I think so.” Mara held the blanket and slowly swung her legs around, ignoring the steady sting of pain in her side.

  “Mind you don’t loosen the bandages,” Agatha croaked.

  Annora assisted Mara to her feet and helped pull a linen shirt and a shortened dark blue tunic over her head. Annora held up a slender pair of breeches. “These will be easier to travel in,” she said.

  Mara looked them over. “Why are you dressing me as a man?” Then she looked over Annora. “And why are you dressed as a man?”

  Annora giggled. “It’s so much more comfortable. Trust me.”

  Mara raised an eyebrow and stepped into the breeches. Annora tied the calf skin belt around her waist. The act of getting dressed was exhausting, and every breath Mara took sent a faint throb of pain up her side.

  Annora guided her to the table. “You sit here and catch your breath. I will go tell Drake and Gareth you’ll be out soon.” Annora opened the door, letting in a gush of gray light before it closed again.

  Agatha handed Mara a clay bowl. “Here, you must eat somethin’.” Mara eyed the contents. The thick brownish concoction looked dreadful, but her stomach rumbled with hunger.

  “It’s squirrel and turnip stew,” Agatha said. “Well, go on then. This isn’t the king’s palace you’re eatin’ at.”

  Mara stirred it around and spooned a small amount in her mouth. To her surprise, it tasted better than it looked. Agatha sat at the stool across from Mara and watched her with her clouded eyes.

  “Thank you for your help.” Mara shifted uncomfortably, wondering just how well the woman could see her.

  “No sense in letting you die,” she said bluntly.

  “Where are we?” Mara asked.

  “Tersia forest, just west of the mountains.”

  Mara looked around. “Are you alone here?”

  Agatha nodded. “Been alone out here many winters now. So many I’ve lost count.”

  “Oh.” Mara said, wondering if she should pry a little further. “Do you have any family?”

  “Aye,” Agatha said. “I had a son.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Fighting the endless wars, I suppose. Haven’t seen him in many years.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Mara said.

  Agatha shrugged her frail shoulders. “I’m not as alone out here as it may seem. People come through when they need more aid than prayer can give.” She looked at the doorway and then back to Mara. “You’re lucky your friends got you here in time. You would have surely died.”

  Mara nodded, remembering her mother’s words and wondering if it was simply a dream.

  Agatha regarded her with a scrutinizing eye. “Would you have preferred that?” she croaked.

  Mara shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re not a particularly convincing girl, are you? Well, perhaps you’re better off without your Light then.”

  Mara almost dropped the bowl in her lap. “What did you say?”

  “Your Light. There’s no sense in living an eternity if you carry it like a burden. Now you’re free from it.”

  Mara shook her head in denial. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  Agatha gave a low cackle. “I may be almost blind, child, but I can still see ye.”

  “How do you know about me?”

  “I just do. Why do you think an old woman like me lives out here in the forest?” The old woman kept her cloudy eyes on Mara in an emotionless stare. “But I can see you will go back there, to the place you lost your Light.”

  The knots in Mara’s stomach began to turn. “What else do you see?” Mara asked.

  Agatha tipped her head. “Your soul is bound to another. Bound in death.”

  Mara took in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”

  Agatha paused, her overcast eyes giving nothing away. “This soul is connected to yours. And you will be the one to decide his fate, but I see death all around him. His fate is in your hands.”

  “Who?” Mara asked. “Is it Corbin?”

  Agatha waved her hand dismissively. “I only see what I see. Nothin’ more.”

  Mara bit her lip as Agatha’s revelation settled within her. Could she be the cause
of Corbin’s death? Mara shook her head. Rowan had told her there were indeed seers among the mortals, but she wouldn’t let herself believe this woman. She would never do anything to hurt Corbin. If his fate was in her hands, then she would rather die than be the cause of his death. Mara stood up abruptly and a stabbing pain shot up her side. She put pressure on it to stop the ache.

  “You must be careful,” Agatha warned. “You’re not healed yet.”

  “I am very grateful for your help,” Mara said, trying to hide the shock of pain. She turned towards the door when the old woman said, “This journey is not the curse you believe it to be.”

  Mara smiled, nodded and opened the door, trying to convince herself this was nothing more than the ramblings of an old woman. She grasped the edges of the doorway to keep herself steady. Annora and the two men sat on tree stumps in front of a low fire. Drake rushed to assist Mara. “Are you all right, miss?”

  Mara accepted his arm and smiled. “Drake, please. I am sure we are past formalities now. Call me Mara.” When she was seated near the fire, the other man stood up and took a tentative step towards her. She vaguely recalled his gruff manner with Annora on the day of the accident.

  “Miss, I am...” he stammered. “I am sorry for hurting you. I didn’t know,” he said. His eyes fell. “I would never have done it had I known…had I known what you were.” He looked back at Annora, whose guilty face revealed her loose lips.

  Mara shot a disapproving glare at Annora as she lowered her eyes. Did Annora not realize how dangerous it was to tell humans what they are?

  Mara smiled, trying to deflect her frustration and offered her hand to the penitent man. He took it gently and held her gaze, as if searching for something unseen.

  Mara sighed. “I’m not what you think I am, Gareth. I am just as human as you and Drake are.”

  Gareth gave a nod of acceptance and walked away.

  Mara turned her head to Drake, sitting beside her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him how grateful she was to see him alive. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” she said.