by Heidi Hanley
“Do you recall that the Uisneach Tree was the source of all magic? Well, the faeries had done well to hide themselves and the Uisneach Tree deep in the forest. Very near here,” he said, grabbing Briana’s hand to help her over twisted tree roots and a small boulder pile.
The sturdy warmth of his hand around hers caused a rush of emotion. She stopped. Whether he was reading her mind or body language, he paused with her, not letting go of her hand right away. Words were unnecessary. Until they were.
“Come along, milady. There’s more to the story.”
Letting go of her hand, he continued. “As I said, the tree is somewhere in this very forest.”
She searched the shadowy grove for evidence of the tree.
“The tree was, is, well guarded by the current dryad, Nionon. She and Cailleach have thus far kept it well protected. Shamwa believes that by eliminatin’ all the faerie trees, he will become the sole source of power, now that King Brath is incapacitated. He does not understand that when the Uisneach Tree dies, all of Uisneach dies with it.”
“Is that really true, Silas?”
He nodded gravely. “The Uisneach Tree is the source of all life, not just magic. It connects the above with the below, holds all things together. What I don’t understand is why Artanin is helpin’ him. Artanin knows very well what will happen if the Uisneach Tree is destroyed. I suppose that’s what happens when you become corrupted by evil. You begin to believe you are a god and more powerful than Maker.
“Shamwa must be more worried than ever. They now have you, the Mouse of Prophecy, to contend with. He will surely focus all his attention on gettin’ his hands on you, and that’s what we must prevent.”
As they approached the trail, Briana heard rushing water. Silas led her down the stone steps to the basin of the falls, but rather than stay at the pool, turned her downstream. “Too loud. The fish will be scared and we won’t be able to talk.”
“The fish won’t be scared,” she replied, letting him know she wasn’t that naïve.
He shrugged. “Well, we do need to finish your lesson and I don’t intend to scream.”
As they skirted a bumble of tree stumps and roots, odd-shaped stones and an occasional wee salamander, he continued to talk, finishing the genealogy. “And so, the druid, Artanin, came from the Dromdara line of druids. Actually, so did Sigel, though he doesn’t put much stock in that part of his ancestry. Cailleach and her sister Ealga the daughters of Atan and Croniana, came from the Appleduir line. Sir Thomas came from the Tynan Ibor line and I’m descended from the Cedarmara line. The great druidic mystery is, as you asked yesterday, What happened to the Evalon line? And the answer is – we don’t know.”
It was fascinating history and she could appreciate the predicament this kingdom was in. Coming to terms with the idea that she somehow fit into its story and might even be necessary to its salvation was something else. And she still couldn’t get past the fact that this man, who sang like an angel but could just as easily put an arrow through a bad guy, was a Divine Practitioner. Her perception of druidism had just been turned upside down.
The moss-carpeted trail led them to a section of brook far below the falls, where the pools entertained only small cascades and offered plenty of hiding spots for brookies. Gnarly trees hovered over the glittering water like ancient guardians over treasure. Finding a spot he liked, Silas reached into his pocket and produced a fishing line made out of a nettle and some hemp fiber, a small hook, and a handful of worms. After instructing her on the correct way to bait the hook, he demonstrated his technique for catching the small fish that lived in the mossy pools.
“You must sneak up on them, aye? If they hear or see you, they won’t bite.”
He no sooner had the line in the pool than it jerked and spun. With a snap of his wrist, he had a decent-sized brook trout on the bank beside him.
“Wow! That was fast. You don’t just have a knack, you’re amazing!”
“Your turn.” He set her up beside a promising pool, then moved a few paces back and sat on the ground, putting a boulder to good use as a back rest. Briana tried to sit quietly, waiting for something to happen, looking at him from time to time, wondering what was wrong.
He shook his head. “Patience, a mhuirnin, patience.”
Sun filtered through the leaves of the trees, dancing across Briana’s body. It made her feel like a faerie.
What do you think Cailleach meant about us behavin’ ourselves?” he wondered, chewing on a fern leaf.
She turned slowly and looked at him, raising one eyebrow. I’m pretty sure you know what she meant. Silas, we need to talk about this mind-reading thing. I like it, but I don’t understand it.
He slid his foot back and forth across a mossy patch. I don’t, either. I’ve never heard of it, so it’s some kind of new magic, I think.
“Can you control it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t hear every thought you have and I assume you don’t hear all of mine.” One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“Cailleach says that I have a gift for talking to animals.”
“Oh? That’s faerie magic.”
“Um hum. She said that both parties have to be willing to communicate. I wonder if this is similar. Maybe we both have to want to communicate something.”
He shrugged. I need to think about it, but in the meantime, I still think we should stay quiet about it. I don’t mean to be hidin’ things from them. I’d just like to have a little more time to work it out.
Something tugged at her line. She whirled around to manage the bite, turning so sharply she lost her balance and fell into the water. Silas was instantly at her side, but it was too late; she was thoroughly soaked. However, she had the wiggling animal still on the line. Grabbing it with both hands, she raised it above her head in victory. “I got him!” They both laughed as he helped her out of the water.
Warm sun and a light breeze dried her dress as they sat beside the brook on a large, flat rock, enjoying the afternoon. Silas captured two more unsuspecting fish while they chatted about everything – their childhoods, the mechanics of hunting with bow and arrow, and music. He was particularly interested in her description of her favorite Irish band, which sang mostly traditional music, performing on elaborate stages with gigantic Celtic crosses.
Their hands were so close she could feel the hair on the back of his hand tickle hers. She felt the heat from his thigh next to hers. Her body was awakening to this man like a new blossom reaching for the radiance of the sun. His sun. She closed her eyes, unwilling to make any sound or movement that would create space between them. His energy seemed so familiar to her that she could almost imagine what his skin felt like, how his joints fused together and where the muscles of his chest were the strongest. It’s like I know every part of you, she thought, and heard him make a sound of agreement.
Silas, I want to go back to the druids not marrying.
He cocked his head toward her. “That certainly seems to be a topic of great concern to you.”
“Why did some druids not marry?”
He scratched his head and didn’t answer right away. “Well, for one thing, bein’ a healer or a bard is mentally time consumin’ work and we need a lot of time alone to do what we do.”
That answer wasn’t what she expected. “And for another?”
“For another, they don’t need to. Marriage isn’t required for people to raise a family. For druids, the freedom required for their studies and work often makes marriage seem too restrictive.”
“So,” she thought out loud, “people don’t have to be married to, uh, have a physical relationship with someone?”
“No. Sexual relations are considered natural and nothin’ to be ashamed of. That’s not to say marriage isn’t desirable as a commitment between people, but it’s not a law.”
Well, that’s the best news I’ve heard since I got here, she thought, a smile spreading across her face.
“Unless of course, you’re roy
alty. Specifically, a queen.”
She shot up, outraged at what he was implying. “You’re saying that everyone can make love with whomever they like, whenever they like, but I can’t?”
He looked rather glum himself. “That about sums it up.”
“That’s not fair!”
“No, but it’s the law. Men are forgiven and even expected their dalliances, but queens are meant to be pure and above such things.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, but realized that this moral code was only beginning to change back home. “And what would happen if someone – like me, broke the law?”
He mimed a rope being put around his neck and pulled tight.
“I can’t believe it. I must have surely drawn the cosmic short straw.”
He understood what she meant and sighed. “Well, perhaps there were two straws.”
She sat down again. They grew quiet; the cheerful sound of birds singing and the water’s bubbling melody antithetical to Briana’s bittersweet feelings. How unfair that she should finally meet the man she could love, only to have him completely out of her reach? She wanted to help save Uisneach. She wanted to see the evil Lord Shamwa prevented from destroying magic in this beautiful kingdom. But stealing a glance at the man beside her, she also wanted to follow the path their hearts were trailblazing.
He broke the silence. “You said the other day that you would like to steal me heart.”
She glanced over at him, a hopeful smile forming on her lips.
“It’s yours. It has been since before we met in that glade.”
The smile faded and she held her breath, feeling the inevitability of the word “but.”
“I’ve longed for you me whole life. When we met, I was able to give that longin’ a name. Briana.”
Her name on his lips was a blessing. She nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. He was her red archer, the one who listened to her secrets, held her tears and was the source of her own yearning.
“But your body is not mine, nor will it ever be.”
“It doesn’t have to be so,” she said. She moved her hand a fraction and their hands touched, warm against the cold river stone. Her eyes pleaded and promised. His radiated understanding and regret.
“If there were a way around this destiny, a mhuirnin, I’d singlehandedly slay every enemy who stood in the way. But the prophecy will not be denied. Uisneach depends on it, and on you. I must not play the enemy to it.” When her eyes welled and a tear fought and escaped, he wiped it away tenderly. “I have pledged fealty to me king and I pledge it now to you. I will be your most devoted friend and your staunchest defender, but that is all I can be to you.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I want you to be.”
He smiled and gently kissed the knuckles of her hand. “It’s not all I want either, but Uisneach needs us. Who knows, we may both discover that friendship and loyalty are the better part, mo chroi.”
He looked up at the sun starting to dip beneath the pines. “If we don’t get back, for sure Sigel will be out after us.” He held out his hand to help her up.
“All things considered,” she said, wryly, “I’ve really enjoyed this afternoon, Silas. Thank you.”
“Aye, me, too. There’ll be other days to spend bein’ lazy and catchin’ fish, just maybe not for a while.”
Cailleach was thrilled with the offering. After Silas cleaned them, she put the fish in a sizzling pan over the fire. It was a peaceful group who ate that night, enjoying one of the few remaining days of rest they would have for a long time, she supposed.
After dinner, they settled around the fire. Sigel pulled out a game board which Briana quickly identified as a Uisneachan form of chess. “Care for a game of ríocht, Silas?”
“Do I look addled? I’m terrible at that game. Why don’t you teach Briana?”
“We call it chess back home, and I know the basics, but I’m not that good at it, either.”
“Sigel is the champion of Uisneach,” Silas said. “No one ever beats him!”
Briana agreed to play and found it simpler and less drawn out than modern chess, though she still couldn’t quite get the nuances. “Why do I keep losing?” she asked, embarrassed by her ineptness.
“The game is all about the kings and the queens.” Sigel reset the board to show her how she should have played the last few moves. “First you must understand that the queen can never checkmate the king alone. He will always have an escape route. So she must work with her king to checkmate the opposing king. You can do this by moving the queen away from the opposing king, creating a ‘knight’s shadow.’” He demonstrated by moving the queen in a trailing pattern that literally created a shadow around the king. “You do this until the king traps himself in a corner, creating the stalemate. The queen, if she’s tricky enough, then moves away from the king, like she’s giving him some breathing space, you see.”
“Or playin’ hard to get,” Silas interjected.
Sigel chuckled and moved the king around the nearby squares. “Now the two kings join in a dance for power until they are in this tight position, at which point, that pesky queen slides right in front of the king to create the checkmate. She is staring the king right in the face, but sadly, he has nowhere to go.”
Briana watched intently. So did Silas, his eyes following the pieces as they chased each other around the squares. Sigel continued. “The king can’t capture the queen because it would put him at odds with the other king. And that, my dear, would be a bad and illegal move.”
They thought Cailleach had fallen asleep in her chair and tried to be quiet. Growling under her breath, Briana moved her queen around, following Sigel’s example.
Without opening her eyes, the witch spoke. “Don’t be so quick to the end game, Briana. Sometimes success takes a long time, and it always requires patience. Besides, the most important part of chess is not winning or losing.”
“Then what is it?” Briana asked.
“It’s about strategy, vision and seeing the big picture. You won’t win if you don’t think it through. Do you remember what you did yesterday with the water and the candle? Try that.”
Sigel reset the board. Refocusing her breath and attention on the field in front of her, Briana imagined the arrangement represented the game they were all playing in real time. Everything around her disappeared as she directed her sight more intensely, as Cailleach taught her. Things began to change, mountains rose out of red squares, a river ran through the lines that separated the blocks, and some of them melded into one wide plain across the playing field. The king shapeshifted into a man sitting next to the tower at Ard Darach. The knight’s horse, carrying Sigel, reared up and moved nearer the king. Looking to the queen, Briana saw herself drifting back and forth between the two kings. The opposing king, she realized with widening eyes, was Silas.
The image jolted her back to the normal chessboard.
Her friends were watching her speculatively. “Did you see that?” she whispered. They shook their heads.
Eyes still closed, Cailleach advised, “Don’t let yourself be so surprised by unexpected turns of events, Briana. That will kill your game quicker than anything. Maintain your calm, at all cost.”
Later, tucked in bed, images of the living chess pieces battled fiercely inside her head. In every scene and in her dreams, the opposing king won every time.
Chapter Thirteen
“Non nobis solum nati sumus…”
Not for ourselves alone are we born.
–Cicero, from “De Officiis” (“On Duties”)
The heavens roared and water poured from furious skies. Briana considered the glistening spider web swaying precariously in a corner of the porch, its tenant wisely hidden elsewhere. The fire snapped and crackled, its music accented by the clicking of bone needles as Cailleach, rocking in her chair, knitted wool into a sock. Sigel appeared to be dozing, but she knew he wasn’t; more likely, he was planning the next leg of their journey. Silas sat nearby, staring out t
he window, reflection being the primary tool of his craft.
Briana was glad for the storm that had changed their plans. Sigel had wanted them to leave for Moiria at sunrise. It wasn’t just that she was still sore from yesterday’s grueling workout with sword and oak shield (both made by Sigel for her); like the spider, she wanted to hide away, to stay here, sheltered and content with her friends. Even if it meant another punishing session with sword and shield. Though Sigel said “she’d do,” she knew he’d want her to do better.
A coin for your thoughts?
She turned to see Silas watching her with a soft expression.
I was just thinking how happy I am to have another day here.
Aye, it’s pleasant, but it won’t save the king.
I know.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Briana, let’s take another look at your map,” said Sigel. She turned to find him and Cailleach watching her and Silas. Again.
She rolled the piece of leather out on the table. Sigel studied it, but shook his head. “I don’t see much here, do you?”
Briana closed her eyes and took some slow deep breaths. When the dreaminess came over her, she opened her eyes and stared at the map. Symbols shimmered lightly across Uisneach. A tendril of smoke arose from Cailleach’s cabin. Long River flowed normally and the wretched apple orchard stood undisturbed. Three new things caught her attention. One was the appearance of tiny men advancing on Tynan Ibor. She frowned. This meant Shamwa’s followers were in pursuit, making their pending departure even more crucial. The second was the image of black birds flying across the realm, and the third was the Uisneach Tree standing just to the north of the cabin. It seemed to Briana that a face was looking at her from within the tree, holding a barky finger to its lips as if to warn her not to mention its appearance. Advising Cailleach and the men about the soldiers and the crows, she kept the persuasive face to herself.
The rain stopped shortly after lunch and left a dripping but sunny forest in its wake.
