Siem o siyeya
A chance to share your heart
The song they sang within the flames was one of triumph over pain and loss. They sang of the wounded side of humanity, of the many peoples who walked the trail of tears upon the earth. For the most powerful songs and the most enduring are those that rise to overcome adversity, to survive and prevail. They sang the song of the Risen People.
• • •
Siem o siyeya
To make a brand-new start
And as they sang they quenched the fire till there was nothing but ashes that blew away in the wind.
And watch the walls come tumbling down.
Their song finished, their work done, the Old Ones left the plain.
And so the battle ended that night. The claps of thunder and the winds and the storms had ceased their disturbance. The uproar of the elements and the sky and the land had been stilled. A great peace and harmony settled over everything. For all had been cleansed and healed and whatever was foul had been banished. There arose the greatest tranquillity to play its part in the Divine Plan.
Dana lay on the grass in front of the portal. She had no strength left to move. Vaguely she sensed those who reached out to help her: members of her guard, the black wolf that was Jean, fairies of Clan Creemore. But they couldn’t touch her. She was already beyond them. She heard their calls, heard the wolf’s howl, but there was no turning back. They were in the Land of the Living. She had gone into the Dreaming.
Only Grandfather was calm. He stood on Magh Croí Mor, but he was also in the cemetery beside Thomas Gowan’s grave. A brief smile crossed his lips as he touched the white bird carved on Thomas’s tombstone. With a rush of pale wings, the bird flew into the air. Flying high like a lark, it let out a call-note of sorrow and joy.
From the great forest around the plain, the cry was echoed a hundredfold. Up from the trees, in a blur of white flight in the moonlight, rose the soul-birds of Faerie. The night resounded with the sibilance of wings. Feathery voices rang through the air.
Swooping down on the plain, the birds flew toward Dana and lifted her into their midst. Without substance or weight, she was lighter than a feather. As they carried her to the portal they sang a Homecoming song. With melodious voices, unearthly and sweet, they sang of her quest, her mission, and her sacrifice.
• • •
Lost in the daze of her dying, Dana saw faces on the heads of the birds that carried her. They were the faces of those she knew, both human and fairy: her family, her friends, and all who had helped her. Jean was there beside her. And it was Grandfather who led their flight. Everyone she had ever loved was in that shining flock. In that moment she knew they were a vision to accompany her death. Dana accepted the honor with gladness, for it showed the wealth of her life however brief.
Once upon a time she was the light to bridge the darkness. Now she was the key to open the door.
As the soul-birds of Faerie bore her through the portal of the Great Heart, Dana sensed an infinity of doors opening everywhere, in minds and hearts, in distant lands, on distant worlds, all bursting open like flowers as she went Home.
Dana was walking in a green and radiant garden. The scent of flowers sweetened the air. Butterflies flitted around her. Her mother, Edane, was with her and so also was Honor, the High Queen of Faerie. They linked her arms as they walked beside her, speaking gently as if to coax her awake. She felt light and airy, like a puff of thistledown on the breeze. Her mother’s voice rang with gladness, but Honor’s was tinged with regret. Words and phrases floated in Dana’s mind. They were explaining her new reality, the nature of her being. Her human self had died. She was purely fairy.
Of course she could visit the Earthworld now that she had restored the portals. She could even dwell there if she chose. But she would do so as a fairy, like those of Clan Creemore, and not as a mortal. She could no longer live among humans as one of their race.
Dana felt the protests rising inside her, but she was unable to speak. She was trembling all over. Where was she? What was going on? She pulled away from the fairy-women. Though she was weak and dizzy, she struggled in her mind to call up the portal. She needed to get away, to go back.
The portal took shape immediately, responding to her command. The good news penetrated the fog in her mind. She had succeeded. The doorways were open! Now she lurched toward the portal. In the shadow of the great arch, she could see the Plain of the Great Heart. It was still night on the other side. Bonfires lit up the darkness. But the battle was over. The wounded were being carried from the field to the healing tents. The dead were being taken away to be mourned. She could see the luminous face of the full moon and the spray of white stars in a Canadian sky.
Behind her shone the bright meadows of Faerie, the Many-Colored Land of dreams and enchantment. In the distance, a golden palace crowned a high hill. Banners flew from the pinnacle. A great crowd was gathered on the parapets and around the walls, cheering. She could hear her name rising on the swell. A celebration awaited her. She had rescued Fairyland.
Dana was devastated. This was not how she had imagined the end of her quest. This was not what she had hoped for, not what she had dreamed.
She pleaded with her mother and Honor. “I thought if I got back to Faerie everything would end happily! Isn’t that how fairy tales are supposed to go? I thought I’d get Jean’s humanity back and we’d be together. This is supposed to be the Land of Dreams. Where everything is possible. I don’t want things to end this way. This isn’t my dream! It’s a nightmare!”
Edane was bewildered by her daughter’s reaction. “You were unhappy in the Earthworld, daughter! You fled to us constantly and did not want to return. It was your humanity that ever pulled you back. Now that it is gone, you can stay with us forever!”
The High Queen was more understanding, for she too had died as a human, leaving the world of her parents and her twin behind. For any dream to exist, there must be a sacrifice. Her voice rang with sympathy.
“We cannot restore your mortal life, Dana. That is beyond our power.”
“I don’t want this! This is not my dream!”
No sooner had Dana spoken than she found herself in a different place: a small island floating like a lily on the waves of a warm sea. The clarity of light was intense. The rim of the horizon was very close, dominated by the giant face of the Faerie sun. Dana was standing on a green hillock at the foot of a great tree. The tree was bare of leaf or flower, but its branches were covered with countless birds. White birds like blossoms. Fast asleep, their heads were tucked under their wings.
“The soul-birds of Faerie!” she said, breathless.
Though Edane had vanished, Honor stood beside her. The High Queen gazed upward. “I didn’t really know what I was doing when I woke them. All I knew for certain was that they would change things. Everything seemed so hopeless. It was the only way I could think of helping you. Desperate times—”
“Call for desperate measures,” Dana said, remembering the High Queen’s motto. “But I don’t understand. What kind of birds are they? What do they mean?”
Honor frowned. “I don’t quite understand myself. They are something very ancient. A part of Old Magic.”
“There were soul-birds in the Earthworld, too, different from these ones. I met them on the ocean.”
“There are soul-birds in every world. They are coming into being all the time, but they also existed before the worlds were born. They are part of what made the worlds come into being.” Honor shook her head. “I’m saying this all wrong.” She frowned, tried again. “There are things that have no limits—they are boundless—and as soon as you put words on them, the description is wrong because it contains them, like putting something that should fly into a cage.” Now she held herself upright as she donned the mantle of sovereignty that brought her wisdom. “The soul-birds are fleeting, like thoughts, yet their power is immeasurable. They are the dreams of the Creator, they are the hopes of the Old Ones, they
are the hopes and dreams of everything that exists. They are the utterances that make things come into existence and that hold things together, but they are also the bringers of change. They are the unravelers, the undoings, the unmakings …” Her shoulders slumped. She gave Dana a rueful grimace. “It’s all that ‘life, the universe, and everything’ stuff that gives me a royal headache sometimes.”
Dana grinned back, but in fact she understood. These were echoes of the teachings she was given when she was wind-walking and dream-speaking.
“The soul-birds in the Earthworld are often lost and suffering,” she said softly. “Because life is difficult there. Hopes and dreams go astray all the time. While the soul-birds of Faerie rest easy in the Land of Dreams.”
“Not if you wake them,” Honor pointed out, “which is why no one does, as my husband has reminded me. I knew I was taking a huge risk. By sending them to you, I started a chain of events with no guarantee that things would get better. Change is change. Hope can be a burden. And people die for their dreams.” She looked at Dana sadly. “It is my fault you died.”
Dana was about to respond when something caught her eye. She stared up at the sleeping birds. There was something wrong. Something missing. She touched her hair where she had tied the white feather when she dressed for battle. It still hung from her braid.
“It’s not here,” she said, suddenly. “The bird who gave me this feather. It’s still in the Earthworld.”
“Ah,” said the High Queen, catching her breath, “hope is still on the wing.”
• • •
Word had reached the Court that Dana would attend the celebrations later that night. The news was met with joy. The revels commenced in earnest. Music filled the air. Bright lords and ladies twirled over the marble floors. The hall blazed with the light of a thousand candles. Green garlands draped the walls and pillars. The long tables clothed in snowy lace groaned beneath the weight of a fabulous feast. Gold and silver dishes offered every kind of sweetmeat and savory, delicacy and dainty. Fountains bubbled with champagne and spiced wine.
Many who had fought on the Plain of the Great Heart came to enjoy the victory ball. The Canadian fairies were greeted with a tumultuous welcome. Time had passed in both worlds since they were last seen. Friends and family embraced them with open arms. When a troop of Chinese dragons arrived, they were hailed as heroes. Stories and songs were already being composed to praise their part in the battle.
• • •
Dana’s aunts were brought to the palace by Daisy Greenleaf. To their own huge surprise, they had acquitted themselves well on the battlefield, suffering only minor wounds. Coloring the air with curses as they fought back-to-back, they had proved both skilful and lucky at war.
“We can’t go to the ball like this!” Yvonne said with dismay.
“Cinderellasville,” Dee agreed.
Both their wings and finery had disappeared at midnight. Their own clothes were in tatters.
Daisy waved her hand over them. Now Yvonne wore a dress of sparkling red, while Deirdre sported a black satin gown sprayed with silvery stars.
After being told that they would see their niece later, they were ready to party. Both looked around the hall, overcome with the dazzling beauty of it all.
“There’s Andy and Tom!” said Dee suddenly.
The handsome brothers were also scanning the crowd. As soon as they spotted the two sisters, they hurried toward them.
“Sport?” said Dee, raising her eyebrow.
“Play,” Yvonne concurred with a nod.
• • •
There was one of Dana’s guard who couldn’t come to the feast. When the battle ended, Gwen was discovered deep in enemy lines, badly wounded and unconscious. Brought to a healing tent, she finally woke to find Dara leaning over her.
“Are you really here or have I died, beloved?” she asked. His eyes darkened as he relived the terror of that moment when he came through the portal and couldn’t find her.
“No, you haven’t died, mo stór,” he said gently. “You’re made of stronger stuff than that.”
His Irish accent fell gently on her ears. She smiled to hear it. He took her hand in his.
“I’ve been watching over you,” he said quietly, “and I’ve been thinking. It’s time you and I were married. No more nonsense about it. We can sort the rest out as we go along. What do you say to that?”
Her smile widened. “Yes, of course. Yes! What else could I say?”
Despite the pain that wracked her body, she managed a small laugh.
“You have a brilliant laugh,” he murmured.
• • •
When Laurel entered the fairy hall, she did so with a divided heart. Surveying the great assembly, she wasn’t sure whom she hoped to see first, Honor or Ian. As it turned out, the High Queen had gone missing along with Dana, which saved Laurel from choosing.
He came to her as the Summer King, resplendent in a crimson mantle. A golden circlet bound his raven-black hair. The blue eyes of Faerie regarded her with careful concern.
“Art thou well, Lady?”
She was dressed in a long green gown seeded with pearls. Her fair hair fell to her shoulders. Though one of her arms was bandaged, most of her wounds had been healed.
“I’m feeling better, thanks. My friend, Gwen, got the worst of it when she rescued me. There were so many …” Laurel choked. “We’re lucky we survived. Many didn’t.”
She managed to appear calm as she spoke, but inside she was in turmoil. Overjoyed to see him safe and sound, she wanted to throw her arms around him. But she knew he had every reason to be wary. She was the one who had ended their relationship.
“All the time the worlds were divided, I thought of you,” he said quietly. “I knew there would be a great battle and that you, being you, would be caught up in it somehow.”
Remembering her original refusal to join the mission, Laurel’s smile was wry. “It wasn’t my quest, but I played my part.”
She saw that he was about to leave. Was he hesitating? Would he forgive her? Or reject her? It was now or never. She would have to put aside her pride and take the risk. Either she reached for her dream or lost all hope of getting it. The words tumbled out.
“When I thought you might be dead … or even injured … I … My heart was broken. The thought of never seeing you again. It was the reason I took the mission. When I went into battle, it was for you I was fighting.”
He looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. With a pang, she realized that in all their time together, she had never spoken so honestly to him. He searched her features. Could he see that she was different? That she had changed?
“Come, Lady,” he said, catching her hand. “Dance with me.”
• • •
When Dana arrived, a hush fell over the great hall. Everyone knew that something was amiss. It had been announced before she arrived that she would not join the feast. She had come only to seek an audience with Midir, the High King. This had caused a lot of whispering and speculation. Refusing to eat or drink in Faerie was the customary sign that one didn’t intend to stay.
Dana made her way across the marble floor toward the dais where the High Majesties were enthroned. She was not garbed in shining raiment, nor was she bedecked in jewels. Instead, she wore the clothes the Sasquatch had given her; her battle-dress. The black feathered cape folded like wings over the deerskin shirt and leggings. The cedar-bark apron fell to her knees. On her feet were moccasin boots. In her hand, she carried the staff of carved pine. Her hair was braided and draped with the feather of the soul-bird still on the wing. On either side of her loped two great wolves, the silver-gray that was grand-père and the black that was Jean.
A ripple of shock ran through the gathering. The North American clans grinned their approval. She didn’t look like an Irish fairy. She looked like a man-i-tou, a spirit of Turtle Island.
When she called out her challenge, her Voice was steady.
“
I have rescued Fairyland. I request a boon for my companions.”
The High King frowned. His red-gold hair fell in a mane to his shoulders. His eyes were solemn. Though he wore no crown, the star of sovereignty glittered on his forehead. At his left hand stood Edane, watching her daughter anxiously. On his right was Honor, his wife. The High Queen sat stiffly, her features a mask of control, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Midir’s frown was not directed at Dana, but rather at the wolves.
“This enchantment is not of Ireland or Faerie.”
“It’s a French-Canadian thing,” said Dana.
“We have no power over magics that are not our own,” he told her.
“The High Queen is or was Canadian,” Dana pointed out succinctly.
Clan Creemore let out a cheer. Honor barely managed to stifle a giggle.
“Also, as I’ve recently discovered,” Dana continued, “there has long been commerce between Turtle Island and Faerie. The two are bonded in many stories.”
Dana thought she saw amusement and admiration in Midir’s look. He nodded his head, an encouraging sign. After what seemed an eternity, he answered.
“I will take counsel with the Old Ones of Ireland: the Salmon of Assaroe, the Old Woman of Beare, Blackfoot the Elk of Ben Gulban, the White Lady of the Waters, and Laheen, the Golden Eagle, King of the Birds. The Five Ancients came before Faerie and the New Magic of our realm. They will know if the spell can be broken.”
Dana was overjoyed. This was definitely a “maybe” as opposed to a “no.” They had a chance.
“I’m not finished,” she said quickly. “I haven’t stated my full request. There’s three parts to it. I’m asking not only that Jean and grand-père’s humanity be restored, but mine too.”
The Book of Dreams Page 46
