Beyond a Darkened Shore

by Jessica Leake

  I imagined the jötnar continuing their path of destruction all the way to Mide, and my breaths came faster. “A doorway appeared in my mind, and a voice told me to pull myself through.” I met his gaze. “But I couldn’t leave you.”

  He touched my cheek with the hand I had only just been admiring, warmth spreading down my body. “I’m grateful you saved me. I’m only sorry you had to. It’s clear we were spared so the quest will continue. We’ll find a way back.”

  But what then? With all our strength, we barely survived. I couldn’t say the thoughts aloud, as though giving voice to them would grant them power over me.

  A whispering came from the trees above us. Subtle at first, like a soft breeze rustling the leaves. It soon grew to a level where it was apparent words were being exchanged, though the language was beyond either of our understanding. It sounded as organic as water flowing over rock, or the wind howling through branches.

  I glanced back at Leif, and he nodded—an unspoken acknowledgment that we were not alone.

  The water joined in, murmuring in the same language as the trees, adding to the cacophony. Amid this chaos, a door appeared within the tree nearest us, and a brightly lit beast stepped through.

  It was a graceful, long-legged dog, its fur tawny as a lion’s. It watched us with intelligent gold eyes. In those eyes, I could almost make out another form, a willowy figure of a woman. Another goddess?

  “I see you have found the healing waters,” a softly melodic voice said, whispering through the trees and into our minds. It seemed these were not the dog’s words, but rather another being speaking through the dog. The dog’s intelligence was clear, but I believed the true owner of the voice used the dog to allow her to see without being physically present.

  The dog’s expression was open and friendly, but even so, I remembered my last encounter with an animal imbued with immortal powers. I’d have to choose my words carefully. “We beg forgiveness if we’ve trespassed. We were in a battle for our lives, and whatever I did to bring us here was an act of desperation.”

  “You can’t trespass if you are invited. And I know all about your battle; your wounds were tended to.”

  “Then I hope you’ll pass along our thanks to whoever was kind enough to tend us,” I said. “May I ask, then, where are we?”

  “You are in the realm of the Tuatha Dé Danann,” the voice said. “I am Brigid.”

  A little jolt of recognition ran through me. “You are the goddess of healing,” I said, mostly for Leif’s benefit. “It must be you to whom we owe our thanks.”

  The dog made a soft sound of acknowledgment.

  “What I don’t understand, though,” I said, “is how we got here.” I thought back to the terrible moment when Leif and I had nearly died, when the door of white light had opened in my mind. What was different about this time?

  “Someone opened the door on this side—the door that connects our realm to yours,” the voice said, as though any of that made sense.

  Leif and I shared a confused look. “And how long have we been here?” Leif asked.

  “This realm is one without time,” the voice said, “but in your land, several weeks have passed.”

  I felt the color drain from my face; my head pounded a warning. Not again. Nightmare images of my sisters and clansmen at the mercy of those monstrosities flashed before my mind. Plenty of time to continue to Mide. Plenty of time, even, to sail north to Leif’s homeland for reinforcements. As far as they knew, the only two warriors with the power to stop them had disappeared.

  “Weeks?” Leif demanded, his expression as grim as mine. “We must go back.”

  The dog’s head tilted to the side. “If you were to return now, how long do you think you could survive against the Norse abominations?”

  Leif’s jaw tightened. “We lost this battle, but we learned from it. We won’t fail again.”

  “You have both been given great gifts; Ciara, you were born with otherworldly power.” The golden eyes of the dog met mine before shifting to Leif. “And you, Leif, made a pact to achieve it.”

  I stepped closer. “Who am I? How was I born with such power?” Something like awareness teased the back of my mind, as if I stood on the threshold of answering a great mystery.

  “You will know—in time. The knowledge now would only hinder you, and it is not my truth to tell. Though by now you must realize you are not mortal.” Her words hovered in the air. I’d always known I was something more than human, but it was still as shocking as a blast of ice-cold wind to have it confirmed by an ancient being.

  The desperation to know the truth about my power didn’t lessen with her warning, but I knew arguing with her decision not to tell me was most likely futile. I tried a different tack. “Then am I immortal?”

  Her eyes met mine, wisdom swirling in their depths. Again, I saw the figure of a woman hidden within. “You mean, can you not be killed? The answer is that you will live much longer than your fellow man, and yet, a well-aimed arrow could still take your life. It is this touch of immortal blood that has brought you here.”

  “If I am immortal,” I said slowly, still wrapping my mind around the revelation, “then are we powerful enough to defeat the jötnar?”

  “You say you have learned from your battle, but it is not I who can determine that. You must go and speak with one who is the most experienced in war. She will give you the advice you both need if you are to defeat the giants.”

  I was almost positive she spoke of the Morrigan, especially since this was the realm of the Tuatha Dé Danann. “Forgive me,” I said, “but why can’t the people of this realm aid us by fighting the giants? Surely you’re more experienced and powerful, and if you were to lend us your aid—”

  But the dog shook its golden head. “Once, we could have done so. Once, we could have walked upon the land and made physical changes to it. Now it is the Christian God who rules Éirinn, and we are only shadows of what we once were. We have physical forms only in this realm. Even healing you had to be done in this realm instead of the mortal world—there, we can only act through visions or appear as animals.”

  I glanced at Leif and thought of the Valkyrie. “And what of the gods of his land?”

  The dog’s gaze landed on Leif. “They have a greater hold there, but even their influence is slipping. They sought out the greatest warrior in their land to help aid in the fight against the giants, and they asked that we send our most powerful warrior. When we realized Éirinn itself was in danger, we agreed.”

  It was hard to believe I would be considered by anyone to be the most powerful warrior, and especially by ancient immortal beings, but I also knew there was much of my power that was as yet untapped.

  “You are eager to return to your realm,” she continued, “but before you go . . .” She indicated with her head a leather bag beside her, unnoticed until now. “Gifts for you.”

  Tentatively, I took a step forward and retrieved the bag. From within the deceptively small container, I pulled out the most beautiful armor I had ever seen. Black-and-silver leather leggings and chest piece reinforced with chain mail for me, and black-leather-and-chain-mail armor for Leif. Sturdy leather boots for us both. Leif smiled when I pulled free his silver wolf-pelt mantle; whether it was new or merely repaired, I could not tell.

  “These are beautiful gifts,” I said, stroking the supple leather.

  “Beautiful and useful,” the voice said. “You will find them to be stronger and more agile than other armor. The chain mail will deflect any blade.”

  “Armor even Freyja and Odin would be proud to wear,” Leif said. “You have my thanks.”

  “And mine as well,” I said.

  The dog nodded before taking a few steps away. She paused and looked back, the invitation to follow clear.

  A breeze swirled around me then, the whisper of a kiss atop my head. “There is greatness in you, Ciara of Mide, beyond even what you have accomplished so far. It matters little where your power comes from, only that
you have been given it to protect your people as the Tuatha Dé Danann once did.”

  An answering hope bloomed in my chest.

  The tawny dog wove agilely through the ancient forest, dappled sunlight making the leaves shimmer above us. Gone was the melodic voice, and though the dog seemed to have an intelligence far beyond that of a normal beast, the sensation that a powerful being had taken possession of it had disappeared.

  The farther it led us, the darker the woods became, until even the tree trunks were black. A mist snaked through the trees, cool against our legs, and almost as high as the dog was tall. Here, the once-dappled sunlight struggled to penetrate the dark leaves, casting everything in shadow. The dog trotted along at a steady pace, but even it seemed more alert, its ears twitching this way and that. There was a pregnant silence, like the way the air seems to shiver in anticipation for a coming storm.

  Leif, who had been following closely at the dog’s heels, fell back until he was beside me. “After encountering hellhounds the last time we were in the woods together, we should stay close.”

  I nodded once, moving toward him until our arms brushed with each step. Much as I hated to admit it, I took comfort from his closeness, from the feel of the warmth radiating off his body.

  A rustling drew my attention to the branches above. Countless shiny, dark eyes stared down at us. I touched Leif’s arm, indicated with my chin the murder of crows watching us.

  One opened its beak. Caw-caw-caw.

  Soon another joined in, and another, until the trees were full of the cawing of crows.

  Even the dog flinched. She came to a stop in front of us, and Leif and I tensed into fighting stances. The birds began flapping their wings until the forest echoed with the sounds of them.

  Then, just as suddenly, the crows fell silent. Black smoke poured from the roots of the trees, slithering along the ground. It stopped mere feet away and solidified into a figure.

  She was dressed as though prepared for battle, attired completely in supple black leather nearly identical to the set I’d been given. It clung to her like a second skin. Her head was still that of a crow, and beside me, I could feel Leif shudder.

  The Morrigan’s eyes bore into mine, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice so harshly distorted by the crow’s beak, I flinched as though anticipating a blow. “I see Brigid has healed you both, though you scarcely deserved it after losing that battle so spectacularly.”

  At that, the dog made a chuffing sound as if in farewell. She shook herself off once before bounding away like a deer, disappearing into the mist.

  While our attention had been on the dog, the Morrigan had moved closer. Now she stood only a foot away. She leaned still closer, and Leif tensed beside me. “Hear me, Northman. You will both fail. An army of men could never defeat the jötnar—even with your power. This last battle proved that. You failed because you still fight separately. You”—her crow eyes found Leif’s—“have the strength and fighting ability of a god. And you”—those eerie eyes slid back to mine—“have the mental prowess to command an army of men. Yet you do nothing to combine those powers. You are both arrogant and foolish beyond measure.”

  Her words prickled against my skin. I thought of Leif and me battling two different giants—why hadn’t I immediately gone to his aid? It seemed obvious now that I should have taken control of the first giant’s mind long enough for Leif to bring him down. And yet I was so used to relying mostly on my own abilities. Was it hubris, then? Did I believe I was strong enough—physically and mentally—to defeat a giant on my own? “If we learn to work together, then will we be able to overcome them?” I asked.

  The Morrigan tilted her head. “Perhaps. But then again, there is another way.” She took another step forward until I could feel the cold emanating off her as surely as I could feel Leif’s warmth beside me. “In addition to her many other abilities, Ciara has the ability to call upon an army of great power.”

  A jolt of surprise ran through me. “But how? I—”

  “It requires a great sacrifice.” Her eyes darkened, turning to two drops of blood for a fleeting moment. “A blood sacrifice.”

  I took a step back. “Then, no . . . I could not—”

  “How many?” Leif asked, his face a mask of stone.

  A slow, awful smile curved the Morrigan’s lips. “The Northmen do not shy away from blood sacrifices, do they? The blood of two hundred men must be offered as payment.”

  The breath rushed from my lungs as though I had been knocked onto my back. “It cannot be done—it will not be done.”

  “Tell me more of this army,” Leif said.

  I grabbed his arm. “Stop this. The price is too high.”

  “The price is high,” the Morrigan agreed, “but the price will be higher still for Éirinn if you do not pay it. I have foreseen it: without this army, you will fail. Even now, the jötnar have returned to Skien in the north, and Fenris will bring this battle to our shores.” Her attention shifted to me. “I have shown you the consequences, Ciara, and you still tell me the price is too dear?”

  Panic bubbled up within me, as I faced this choice I could never make.

  “Tell us of the army,” Leif repeated.

  “It is composed of warriors who cannot die, of men who are accomplished in battle.” The Morrigan leveled her gaze at Leif. The feathers upon her head quivered for a moment. “They are warriors who have already died.”

  15

  The crows above us flapped their wings at the Morrigan’s pronouncement, and icy cold water swam through my veins. “How can the dead fight battles?” I asked.

  “They are the army of the undead,” the Morrigan answered cryptically. Her gaze shifted to Leif. “This one knows of fallen warriors who live to fight again. He hopes to be welcomed into the halls of Valhalla himself one day.”

  A look of surprise and almost hope flashed across Leif’s face. “Do you mean that Ciara will be able to call upon the einherjar?”

  Frustration grew within me. “Who are the einherjar?”

  “I believe he’s referring to the warrior souls who are taken by the Valkyrie to Valhalla,” the Morrigan said, a glitter of amusement in her eyes. She turned her attention back to Leif. “But Ciara is a daughter of Éirinn. She cannot call forth the einherjar.”

  Leif’s disappointment was clear in the drop of his shoulders.

  “If not them, then who?” I asked.

  “Your own people,” the Morrigan said. “Brigid gave you gifts of armor, but I have swords that will pierce even the tough flesh of the jötnar.” She pulled two swords from the mist at her feet, swords nearly as tall as Leif. “For you, Northman,” she said, handing him a sword with an ornately tooled grip. A Celtic knot made up the pommel. “This is Vengeance, so named because it feeds on the need for revenge.” She turned to me and presented me with a sword as beautifully crafted, only the pommel was a miniature skull. “And for you, Ciara of Mide, I give the Sword of the Fallen.”

  I took it reluctantly. As soon as my hand wrapped around the grip, the sword thrummed, coming to life as though it had been asleep.

  “This sword is the key to summoning the army of the undead.” Her tone turned sly. “Wouldn’t you like to give the dead a noble purpose?”

  “Not at the cost of damning their souls,” I snapped.

  The Morrigan’s eyes flashed menacingly in the shadowed light. “Then you have sentenced the people of Éirinn—and your remaining sisters—to death.”

  Anger rose so fast within me I nearly choked on it. “You wanted me to fight for this quest and so I have, but if this was your intention all along, then I will not be manipulated. Leif and I will fight together, and we’ll defeat the jötnar, backed by an army of men with flesh and blood and beating hearts.” I shook all over, the sudden fury causing my vision to redden on the edges. “Tell me how to return.”

  The Morrigan stared at me for several moments, her expression dangerous. It was only my boiling anger that kept me from
fearing that she would tear out my heart as easily as she had the hellhounds’. “You need only open the door.”

  As soon as she said it, I became aware of the other part of me, the ethereal part that could open doors of light and steal a jötunn’s life force. I indicated for Leif to follow me before striding away, eager to be free of the Morrigan’s tainted presence.

  I’d nearly made it out of the crows’ wood before I realized Leif wasn’t behind me. I swung around, only to find the Morrigan and him finishing a conversation. Leif nodded once and turned away. Anger writhed within me at the thought of his taking the Morrigan’s side. “What were you discussing?” I asked as soon as he caught up to me.

  His eyebrows were drawn down low over his eyes, as though he was lost in thought. He glanced up, and a wry smile appeared on his face. “I was begging her not to kill you, princess. Ancient war goddesses don’t savor being scolded like children.”

  My eyes narrowed. “I doubt that. You’re no silver-tongued peacemaker.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll stand by you, Ciara. Summoning the army is your choice to make. We’ll fight the jötnar together.” His smile turned teasing. “I’m not sure what use an army of dead Celts would be anyway.”

  I returned his smile in spite of myself, my anger draining away as quickly as it had come. “Then we must return.”

  I closed my eyes and sank down within my mind as easily as submerging myself in a bath. The sound of the wind in the trees, the rustle of animals, everything but the sound of my heartbeat disappeared. I could see the doorway, light shining just beyond. With my eyes still shut, I reached for Leif’s hand, felt its calloused warmth strong against my own.

  In my mind, the door became as big as a castle’s, the yellow light as bright as sunlight.

  I stood upon the threshold with Leif’s hand firmly in my own. The light engulfed me, and I let myself fall.

  The sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh was the first sensation to greet me as I stumbled, disoriented and nauseated in a field. A cow’s low came to me on the breeze, and I blinked my bleary eyes. Slowly, Leif came into focus. He was crouched next to me, head down, as though he was as disoriented as I was. Somehow we were clothed in our gifted armor, though I had no memory of putting it on. I leaned on the hilt of my sword.