Ammey McKeaf

by Jane Shoup

  “Watch that,” Vincent warned from across the table. “You’re not used to it.”

  She shifted away from him to establish the value of his advice and noticed Forzenay and Milainah engaged in a serious looking conversation at the head of the table. Lanterns flickered to life and tiny, brightly colored lights flashed from the depths of the trees. “Are those,” Ammey breathed, “starflits?”

  “They are,” Kidder replied. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

  They were magnificent. They were similar to fireflies except they were larger and infinitely more colorful. Ammey had heard talk of them, but she’d never seen them. She had not even been certain they were real. She jerked from a light kick from beneath the table and glared at Vincent who was seated catty-corner from her, knowing it was he who had delivered it.

  “Eat,” he urged irritably.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and looked away without reply.

  “You are drinking and staring when you ought to be eating,” he said.

  “Aw, she’ll be fine,” Stripe replied. “Although it’s sweet of you to worry.”

  Vincent growled an utterance that Ammey did not quite make out. He reached over to put more on her plate. “You will need your strength,” he warned.

  She was about to retort, but music started, pipes of some kind, and some of the women began dancing. They were lovely and fascinating. Ammey had never witnessed such tranquility as she sensed from them. “What do you call them?” she asked Graybil seated next to her.

  “They are Seidh,” he replied. “Milainah, their leader, is the Seidhkona.”

  Were they human? They looked it, but possessed of grace that was unearthly. They’d appeared out of nowhere earlier and she had witnessed Milainah’s eyes changing color. Ammey looked at Graybil. The man was not classically handsome, but there was appealing strength in his square-jawed face. “Do they ever leave here? Do they ever marry?”

  “Why? Are you thinking of joining them?”

  “I don’t think I have the right temperament.”

  He laughed. “I think you may be right about that. No, I don’t think they ever leave.”

  “Are they human?” she asked him in a whisper.

  He nodded. “I think so.”

  “But Milainah’s eyes,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “What about them?”

  Was he being serious? She looked across the table at Stripe and Kidder. “Her eyes changed color when she was speaking to me.” They looked puzzled. “Did you not see?” She even looked at Vincent who looked just as mystified. “They went from dark gray to silver.”

  “I didn’t see that,” Kidder replied.

  “It was just before she said they’d been expecting me.”

  The men exchanged a look. “I didn’t hear that,” Kidder said.

  “We didn’t hear that,” Vincent said,

  “But we believe you,” Graybil said. “She has … powers.”

  “She knows things,” Kidder said. “In advance of their happening.”

  “You should eat more,” Vincent said.

  He turned a scowl on him. “Perhaps you should eat more.”

  She was aware of the others’ amusement as she and Vincent stared down one another. She pointedly picked up her cup and drink.

  “Laugh now,” Vincent muttered. “We’re the ones who’ll have to deal with it when she’s incapacitated tomorrow.”

  “I have not wanted you to deal with me at all,” she retorted.

  “Should I, ah—” Kidder said, waving a finger between her and Vincent. “Climb up on the table and sit between you two?”

  Ammey’s face heated. That was it. She refused to look at or speak to Vincent ever again. After the meal, one of the Seidh escorted Ammey to a private pool to bathe. Admittedly, she had not realized the level of intoxication she’d reached until she stood. Walking without stumbling took concentration, but she was determined to do it, in large part because Vincent was watching with an I told you so expression on his face.

  “Everything you need is here,” her guide said when they reached a steaming pool fed by an underground hot spring. Ammey saw bowls and baskets of soap solutions, various implements and wraps for drying. There was also a large handleless goblet. “Your lodge is nearby,” the woman added. “I’ll return when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ammey undressed and sat beside the bubbling hot water. She cautiously stuck her feet in to test the temperature. It was hot, but bearable. She picked up the glass and detected no smell. She sipped and was glad to discover it was water. She drank it all, suddenly parched. She waded into the pool feeling so fatigued, her body felt leaden, but the heat was soothing. She washed and floated on her back, staring up at a sky full of stars. Was Julia one of them? Removed from all the pain and fear and chaos? Her heartache surged.

  Her father and brothers would be wondering why Zenon and Cael had not returned. Or had they had already discovered the reason? If so, they would be struck with grief and remorse and sick with worry over her.

  When she got out, a robe was waiting. Had it been there before? She slipped it on and sat by the pool’s edge. She cleaned her teeth with a smooth wooden instrument softened from sweetmint oil from one of the bowls and then painstakingly worked the tangles from her hair with a comb from the basket. She stared at the dancing reflection of stars on the dark water until she grew lost in thought.

  She and Julia had spent their lives scheming, laughing and sharing secrets. Julia. Her Julia. How could she possibly be gone? And Cael. He’d been so alive. He’d been a tease and a flirt and a favorite of the ladies. He could have had his choice of any of them. He had been laughing one moment, trying to cajole her from her gloom, and dead the next. How was it possible that so vibrant a life could be instantly extinguished? She looked up at the stars and noticed one that danced more than the others. Her vision blurred with tears, but she smiled. That one was Cael.

  And Zenon. Quiet, serious Zenon. Intelligent, brave and unquestionably loyal. She recalled a gathering from the previous autumn so clearly, she could still see the campfires blazing and smell the scent of roasted venison in the air. More than a hundred had gathered. There had been music and laughter. At one point, Tom had slapped Zenon on the back and said, “Watch this one. He’ll be bound for politics yet.” Her uncles, who were loud when sober, roared with amusement, it was so far fetched a notion.

  “You know, I might,” Zenon replied, egging on the laughter. “I hadn’t really considered it until now.” What Zenon had said or done to elicit the comment in the first place escaped her if she’d ever known it, but the gathering and the laughter and the camaraderie she would never forget.

  Three friends dead in less than that many days. It was unthinkable. She could not fully grasp and accept it. She had not lost many loved ones in her lifetime. Her mother was lost from complications following the birth of Nicolas, but Ammey was only five at the time and her memories were few. Mostly, she had vague recollections of her mother’s face, her smile, low-pitched laughter and her dancing. Isabella Ayala McKeaf had loved to dance.

  The McKeafs all danced, but the Celtic style, passed down through her father’s line, was utterly different than Castilian. Her mother’s dancing had been passionate and graceful, incorporating arms and hands and hips. The Celtic style the McKeaf’s were known for was mostly a matter of footwork, of rhythmic stomping. Ammey smiled wistfully, until the thought of her elder sister sobered her again. Theresa. They’d lost her, too, although not to death. Theresa’s betrayal had broken her father’s heart. Lucas McKeaf wouldn’t even speak his eldest daughter’s name any longer. None of them did.

  “Are you ready?” the guide asked.

  Ammey looked over and then got to her feet. “Yes.”

  “Your clothes will be cleaned and returned to you.”

  “Thank you.” The young woman led the way and Ammey fell into step with her.

  “That was the pool of contemplation,” the woma
n said.

  Fitting, Ammey thought. “What are the others?”

  “There’s the pool of restoration and the pool of purification. Some have no names and some take their names from their surroundings. The pool of the cliff requires effort to get there but, once you’ve managed, it’s as if you’re floating on the edge of the world, with all of creation before you.”

  “It sounds wonderful. This is such a beautiful place. How did you come to be here, if I may ask?”

  “I was called and so I came. It was the same for all of us.”

  “It must be comforting to have a calling. To know what you’re supposed to do.”

  “You will find yours.”

  Ammey frowned as she thought about it. She had never sensed a calling of any sort and it did not feel as if she would discover one in the future. Her place had been at home with her kith and kin, but nothing was right now. If felt as if it never would be again.

  “Your lodge.”

  Ammey stopped and took in the round lodge before her. It was dwarfed by the massive trees next to it.

  Her guide opened the door and soft blue light emanated from a starflit lantern hanging inside. “There is a gown for you inside. It is yours to keep.”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  The guide smiled warmly. “When you’re ready to sleep, say so and the starflits will shut off their light. Rest well.”

  “Goodnight.” Ammey went inside and her gaze was drawn upwards at the strange spectacle of a roofless lodge. There was an opaque fabric draped above, but stars and the limbs of the mighty oak could be seen through it. How perfectly fitting of the natured-inspired majesty of the camp. The bed was suspended on ropes from the tree.

  She picked up the gown that had been left for her and wondered about its color. In the blue light, it was impossible to tell. What she could tell was that it was made from the same fabric the rest of them wore. It was too fine to sleep in, so she set it aside before walking to the bed to give it a push. She removed her robe and climbed in, giving a final shove of her foot.

  She covered herself with the fur as the bed gently swung. She stared upwards as regret gnawed at her. Why couldn’t Julia have simply stayed put and met Petre Lucias of Portugal. “I should have insisted,” she whispered. She felt a familiar pressure in her face that preceded tears, and she squeezed her eyes shut to ward them off. “Sleep,” she said in a thick voice. The starflits settled on the network of branches within the lantern and the light dimmed as they closed their wings over their light.

  Ammey woke in the pitch dark. She was disoriented until she remembered where she was. Had someone called her name or had it been a dream? She listened, but heard nothing other than the whistling of the night wind. Or were pipes being played? It sounded like wind one moment, music the next. Curiosity trumped drowsiness and she rose from the bed and slipped on her new gown. The fabric felt lighter than any she’d ever experienced.

  She stepped outside the lodge, certain now that it was music she heard. Pipes and a songlike chant. The gown was lavender, she realized in a moment of full moon illumination. She started forward, the grass cool and damp beneath her feet. Somehow, her sorrow felt removed leaving her strangely free, almost as if she could run, throw her arms out and fly away.

  Starflits twinkled and lanterns created a path of light that she followed until she spotted the Seidh gathered around a campfire. She stopped. The flames of the campfire burned pure white. Amongst the Seidh, cloud-like wisps floated, evanesced and reappeared. One of the Seidh turned toward her and beckoned with an outstretched hand. Ammey hesitated a moment and then started forward. She was wordlessly welcomed into the circle. From the opposite side of the fire, Milainah watched her with glowing silver eyes. “You were named well,” she said. “Amaris. Child of the moon.”

  It was not a name people guessed, but Ammey was not surprised that Milainah knew it.

  “All your life,” Milainah continued, “you have been protected by those who have had your best interest at heart. Now you must rely on your own strength.”

  Ammey experienced a clutch of panic at the ominous warning.

  “You have embarked upon a journey that will change many lives.”

  Ammey shook her head. Surely Milainah had mistaken her for someone else.

  “There is no mistake,” Milainah said with a tender smile.

  “I don’t understand. Whose lives?”

  “That depends on the choices you make. It is vital that you learn to trust yourself and the forces that guide you. Strength from within, guidance from beyond, these gifts are yours. Some were your birthright.”

  A woman with braids and a wide shaved strip down the center of her hair stepped into the circle. “A man has unleashed a dark force to aid his cause,” she said in a creamy voice. “This has changed everything.”

  The rest of the Seidh said the last of the warning with her, some in soft voices and some in whispers. Ammey shivered from the strangeness of it.

  “Our mission is balance,” Milainah said from Ammey’s immediate left.

  Ammey jerked to find her there. She looked into the Seidhkona’s glistening eyes feeling increasingly peculiar. She suddenly knew she could fly away. She had only to lift her arms and go. It was her choice. “Balance?” she repeated, wanting to understand.

  “Yes. We beckon and harbor entities of light.”

  “You are highly favored, Amaris,” the woman with braids said. She, too, was in a different place than only a moment before.

  Some of the Seidh began to slowly circle the fire. It almost felt as if she was moving with them. “I…I’m favored? By whom?”

  “Selene, goddess of the moon,” Milainah replied.

  Ammey had never heard of Selene or of any goddess of the moon.

  “Why do you think you were named as you were?”

  Ammey could only shake her head. Nothing had ever been said about a special meaning behind her name, but nor had she ever asked.

  “Remember her name,” the woman next to her said. “You may have need to summon her.”

  “Amaris,” Milainah said. “Your destiny was foretold. You are chosen.”

  Chosen? They had to be mistaken. She wanted to voice it, but the movement of the circle and one particular pink-tinted wisp were distracting. The wisp was significant. It meant something.

  “They are anyej,” Milainah said, “the newly departed. They seek to guide you, but they are new to their world and have much to learn.”

  Julia! Ammey’s eyes filled. “Can you hear them?” she asked in a thick voice.

  “Their messages are for you. Do not worry. You will hear them in time.”

  Ammey wanted to know more, to understand, but she felt a pressing need to leave.

  “Go,” Milainah said. “We shall keep you in our sight. At the moment of your most profound distress, we will endeavor to come to your aid.”

  Ammey took a step back. She raised her arms and, just as she thought, her body began to lift. It was thrilling, but what of coming back down again? What if she couldn’t control it? She rose higher and looked down at the Seidh below. They still watched her. They would not let her fall. She looked upwards again and blinked at pale gray sky above. The sky above her lodge. She was still in bed under the fur. One of the seidh was standing just inside the door, apparently having just woken her. She’d only been dreaming. Oh, but what a dream!

  “They’re waiting for you,” the woman said.

  Ammey rose up on elbow trying to make sense of what was real and what was not. “I…sorry,” she stammered. “Who is waiting?”

  “The Five. It’s time to depart.”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course. I was …sleeping,” she murmured, still dazed.

  “Food and drink are prepared. You’re to take the fur for sleeping, and there is a leather pouch with personal items.”

  “Thank you.”

  The woman left, but Ammey didn’t move. The dream had been amazing, but there was something else. Something strange
and off. What was it? She got up and suddenly realized what it was. She was wearing the gown.

  Chapter Five

  Milainah was not present when they left camp and none of the seidh escorted them out. “How will we find the horses?” Ammey asked as they walked through a passageway between trees. She’d changed back into her tunic and leggings and carried her new possessions.

  “We can find our way out without their help,” Stripe replied. “Just not in.”

  When they reached their horses, Forzenay looked at Ammey. “You’ll ride with me.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked. Forzenay secured her things and gestured for her to get on. She mounted although she still hadn’t gotten an answer. Forzenay mounted behind her and they rode out in the lead position.

  “Draven,” Forzenay replied.

  Draven? She couldn’t even place where it was. “Why?”

  “There are men there who must die.”

  Her apprehension intensified. “You mean—”

  “I mean we must kill them.”

  “Umm, well, I should return home. It’s not that far.”

  “When I say we must kill them, I meant we, Ammey. The six of us.”

  She felt an urge to laugh. It was a surreal moment she was experiencing and an irrational laugh that wanted to escape. In fact, she suddenly felt almost giddy. Because this could not be real. It was yet another a fantastical dream. She would wake soon and discover everything was normal. What if she’d fallen asleep after returning from seeing Julia? Yes! She’d been in her room reading and she’d drifted off to sleep. She’d dreamt all the rest. She would wake soon and be famished.

  “Ammey?” Graybil said, interrupting her reverie. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, because this is all a dream.”

  Vincent rode close and pinched her arm.

  She jerked away and glared at him. “That hurt!”

  “It’s no dream,” he assured her.