The Spiral of Life, page 14
Before Freya could stop her or insist on coming along, Eilean was speed walking away again. The energy from what she’d done to Balor still lingered. She needed to do something with her hands. Maybe snapping some twigs from a tree would help dull the itching spark of power that still remained.
“Remember to check that the tree isn’t sentient before chopping it for wood,” Bhradain called after her.
This world is ridiculous, Eilean thought as she headed into the woods. The muted voices of Bhradain and Freya trailed behind her as she slipped past the trees and set to work.
Eilean considered checking the trees at the edge of the wood as she would get back to camp faster, but found she didn’t want to. She needed more time with her thoughts, away from the others.
With the whoosh of leaves and the creaking of tree branches around her, Eilean set to work. Remembering Bhradain’s comments, she tapped on a trunk.
TAP. TAP.
“Hey, anyone there?” she asked, feeling ridiculous. Eilean wondered if Bhradain was messing with her. Until a face appeared beneath her hand.
Eilean yelped and jumped back in surprise.
“Could you not?” the grumpy tree said. His branch arm bent and made a shooing gesture at her. “Some of us need our beauty rest.”
“And they definitely need it,” another said with a laugh.
Eilean turned to find more branches bending to cover a strangely carved tree face. Their laughter as they held their imaginary stomach sounded like the cracking of twigs.
“Watch it!” Grumpy shouted.
“Well, it’s true,” Giggles replied.
Truly ridiculous.
It took some time, but Eilean managed to find trees that didn’t talk back to her. And thankfully, scattered around the silent grove, there was an array of branches and twigs of all sizes. Now all she had to do was break them into smaller piles to make firewood. As with most things in this world, it turned out to be a lot harder than she first thought. With her arm still throbbing, it was difficult to use her full strength to snap them. After a fourth failed attempt, Eilean swung the meter long branch in her grasp against a tree.
SNAP.
She had a few cuts on her hands and one on her cheek, but she didn’t care. A few little stings were nothing. Besides, now she had her first two pieces of firewood. Eilean lifted the next and swung it against the tree, releasing a breath of relief at the crack. She ended up with a lot of scratches, some of which caught her still healing arm, but Eilean would rather fall out of a tree and get hurt than have to use her sword again.
Eilean had seen Phobia back on Bhradain’s saddlebag when they stopped. A part of her hoped that it would have been abandoned back with Balor. Luck never seemed to be on her side. Perhaps she could leave it behind when they headed out in the morning.
With enough wood to last the night, Eilean headed to where the others set up camp. As the trees were still sky high, the once useful moonlight became about as helpful as carrots, with only small beams of light reaching through to show the path. Eilean was grateful for the sound of the river to guide her way back.
She walked slowly. She didn’t want to face any of the questions likely waiting for her back there. Like, how was she feeling? What happened? And, if Freya had seen them, what were those blue sparks? She didn’t know how she’d answer them. Even now, she could still feel the blood trickling down her fingers.
Eilean hoped that the walk into the woods would help burn off the remaining sparks within her. She didn’t think jumping into the river here would work the same way as the loch back home.
So, she wasted a little time by taking small steps. Until she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight.
Dropping the wood, Eilean spun around and held up her fists. Nothing in the air had changed. The breeze was still only just brushing the leaves in the trees. But Eilean had felt something.
“It means someone is walking over your grave,” Mamó had told her when she was eight. “That strange cooling sensation on the back of your neck, the one that comes out of nowhere.” Her eyes had sparkled with mischief. “It means, somewhere in the distant future, someone has passed over your grave.”
Eilean huffed out a breath of annoyance and lowered her fists. This place was putting her on edge. The sooner she got out of here, the better. This world wasn’t good for her.
The flicker of flame helped her find her way out of the woods. And reignite her irritation.
“What was the point of me getting firewood if you were going to get your own?” Eilean said, far snappier than she intended to be. She dropped her wood on the small pile that had already been collected.
Freya held her hands in front of the fire. It almost irritated Eilean more that she didn’t react to her petulance. She could do with someone yelling at her. Making her feel as bad as she should feel. Instead, Freya only sighed.
“You were gone for ages,” Freya replied. “I was cold.” Brown eyes lifted and locked with hers. The flicker of the fire made them look fiercer than Eilean had ever seen them. “Your arm needs rewrapping again.”
Eilean looked down at her arm to find the aloe smudged off, the tattered first-aid kit wrap hanging off her wrist, and her skin as red as a fresh sunburn.
“Oh.”
Bhradain snorted. “An astute observation.”
“Shut up,” Freya said sharply. Surprising both Eilean and Bhradain. “Sit down, Eilean. Let me take a look at it.”
“It’s fine—”
“Sit. Down.”
Eilean sat down. She may have wanted someone to snap at her because of all the damage she had caused but she no longer wanted that person to be Freya. The glint of frustration she’d seen in those warm brown eyes was something Eilean didn’t want to see again. Especially not directed at her. If she ever ended up on Freya’s shit-list, the shame might keep Eilean from ever returning to Balloch again.
“Give me your arm,” Freya said as she grabbed the first-aid kit.
Eilean didn’t argue as she held out her right arm to Freya and let her left soak in the warmth of the fire. It was a nice sensation, to have the heat of the flames fluttering against her skin. She hadn’t realized how cold she was feeling until she felt the warmth again.
“Ow!” Eilean shouted when the sticky substance was slapped onto her arm. “Jesus, a little warning.”
“I’ve found the more you expect something to happen, the more painful it ends up being.” From her tone of voice, Eilean could tell she wasn’t just talking about medicine. “Now sit still.”
“Wait.” Eilean pulled her arm away. “You’re not going to do any magic, are you? Just the aloe will be fine.” She had no intention of sucking any more life force from Freya.
“It keeps hurting you, Eilean,” Freya said softly. “It’s the least I can do after you saved us from Balor.”
Eilean’s jaw twitched. “That’s not what—”
“Yes, that is what you did,” Freya interrupted. “You stood up for me with Brigid, took a death plant for me, and gave us time to escape Balor. That’s saving in my books. It’s a hero in mine, too. Now give me your arm.”
“Freya—”
“Arm.”
Eilean put her arm back in Freya’s grasp. It still took her by surprise that Freya didn’t flinch whenever they touched. It was refreshing, if a little weird. The only other person who didn’t do that was Mamó and Pa. But they were grandparents, so it didn’t count.
A warmth spread along her arm, jolting her to look back at Freya. A glow illuminated her face, shadowing it in a way that had Eilean unable to turn away. A soft orange light, like the one Eilean had seen being used over Bhradain’s body, fluttered over Freya’s skin and onto hers. Every so often, Freya whispered words so quietly that Eilean could only guess it was some kind of spell helping the magic work. Listening closely, Eilean heard the Scottish Gaelic. It made sense that the language of old would be used for Celtic magic. When the light managed to flow without the need of an incantation, Freya spoke up properly.
“You don’t remember me being there, do you?”
Eilean blinked, confused. “What do you mean? Where?”
“You…” Freya’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “You remember the rumor about the gay kid in school, right?”
Eilean remembered. She’d not been out at the time. Hadn’t even told her parents yet out of anxiety. When she heard the rumor, she kept her head down as much as possible to avoid drawing attention to herself in case they figured it out. She’d never known for sure how her schoolmates would act toward someone who was gay, but at twelve, she wasn’t going to risk getting caught out.
Freya glanced up. “Well, I was the gay kid. Well, bisexual kid.”
Eilean had felt a vibe from Freya since their reunion on the shore, so she wasn’t surprised by that. She just hadn’t expected this part of it.
“I’d told Chloe my secret in the girls’ toilets and, well, someone had overheard us. The rumor spread pretty quickly. Everyone was speculating about who it could be. Including my friends. I was always grateful that Chloe kept it to herself until I was ready to say anything.” Freya’s frown deepened. “But the others had their own theories about who it was. Including David.”
Eilean was aware of Bhradain moving around them, but she couldn’t focus on him or anything else. She didn’t know this story, but she knew the ending. And she feared how Freya would tell it.
“I was always surprised Chloe never ratted me out to him. Those two had always been close. I guess I sort of expected her to say something. So when she didn’t, I was confused.” Freya glanced up at Eilean. “She’s still not a great person and, honestly, I should have stopped being friends with them a long time ago, I just…”
Sometimes the fear of being alone is scarier than being with those who aren’t good for you.
“Then came Kathy Baker,” Freya said hoarsely. “A girl who not only wasn’t queer but also had no one to protect her. And I did nothing to stop them. I let David find Kathy in the playground, let him call her a slur and shove her to the ground. And I just watched.” Freya brushed away a tear. “But you didn’t.”
Eilean felt disgust rise in her. She’d put a kid in the hospital. She’d broken his jaw, his nose, and her own fingers with what she’d done.
“You were my hero, you know?” Freya glanced up at her. “You stood up for someone you didn’t even know.”
Eilean couldn’t speak.
“I know it isn’t a good thing exactly, but you were the first person I knew who stood up for someone like that. I admired you for it.” The light faded from Freya’s hands and she gripped onto Eilean’s arm, almost sensing that she was going to pull away. “Not for what you did to David, never that. But you stood up for someone when you didn’t have to. That’s what I admired.”
Freya let go of Eilean, having said what she wanted to. Eilean moved away from her the moment she could. She had no idea how to process what Freya had just said. Laying down on the cool earth, Eilean stared up at the dark sky above them, like she did at home. She’d never had someone talk about what she’d done like that.
That was when she realized.
Eilean stood up with a start, making Freya jump in surprise.
“Bhradain,” Eilean said. “Look up at the sky.”
An anxious nicker met her ears, and she knew that meant he was seeing what she was seeing. Or rather, what she wasn’t seeing.
“What is it?” Freya asked.
The stars were gone. All that could be seen was the moon floating alone in the inky blackness of space. More of a city scene with an empty night sky filled with light pollution.
Eilean searched the sky for any possible sign that she was wrong. She squinted her eyes so tight she managed to give herself a headache. But there was no denying it.
For a brief moment, there was a flicker. A flicker so violent that it looked like the stars were fighting to come back. As quickly as it came, it was gone.
“It’s happening…” Bhradain said quietly, drawing the two girls’ attention. “Cernunnos has been gone too long. The stars have gone out.”
21
HISTORY WILL CALL THEM MONSTERS
Eilean had wanted them to keep moving after that. The stars had gone out, things were getting worse quicker than Bhradain or anyone had expected. She could only assume that they had a few days before things went from worse to catastrophic, equinox or not. To her surprise, it was Bhradain who rejected that idea.
“You need to regain your strength.” He pawed at the ground nervously. “The stars will still be gone tomorrow. Pushing yourself more than necessary will do us no good.”
She considered arguing, but didn’t see the point. Bhradain was as stubborn as she was. If he said they weren’t going, they weren’t going. Besides, Freya had passed out asleep the moment it was clear they weren’t going anywhere. Magic seemed to really take it out of her. Eilean had made sure to give her the extra blanket once she was fully out.
The empty sky stared down at Eilean in a sickening reminder. She couldn’t stop looking up at it. It felt… unnatural to see nothing but the moon up there. Glasgow had enough light pollution to cloud most of the stars at night, but she could still see the glimmer of some of them. And in Ar Dachaidh, lights had filled the sky. Now it was empty. Utterly.
Eilean laid her head back down and continued staring up. “What happened to them?”
“The same as what is happening to the rest of Ar Dachaidh,” Bhradain said with a waver in his voice. “Much has been fading here. Even before Cernunnos went missing, this world has been off-kilter. Only Cernunnos can help us figure out why. I am sure of it.”
“And for some reason, a seventeen-year-old girl is the answer to getting him back? Fantastic.”
Bhradain snorted. The noise wasn’t dismissive or unkind, but unsure. “I am afraid I cannot explain why you were chosen. I do not understand it myself. That is a question for Cernunnos.”
“So I gotta find the guy to ask him why I was chosen to find him?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Fab.”
“You did not sense anything when you were at the loch, correct?” he asked, curious. “Often a kelpie’s trick comes out of nowhere, but if there was something that—”
“My necklace,” Eilean said, reaching up to hold her pendant. “My necklace grew hot, I guess? Twice. One when I was heading up the bank to leave.”
“And that is when you saw my child form?”
“Still messed up by the way,” Eilean told him, to which she received a huff of, she guessed, dismissal. “But yeah, it made me stop and then I heard you.”
Bhradain stood silently for a moment. “Has that happened before?”
“No.” Eilean frowned. “At least, not in my world. Could that have been the sign? Like, Cernunnos is reaching out to me through my necklace?”
“I do not know,” Bhradain said. “But it is the only answer we have for now.”
Eilean sighed. Nothing about this trip made any sense. “Where do we go from here?”
“We are not far from the entrance to the Withering Woods,” Bhradain said quietly. “There is only one more being we must meet before we can enter. And she is not the… easiest of creatures to engage with.”
This time, Eilean didn’t keep her irritation to herself. “Ah yes, because the giant and the murder plant wasn’t challenging enough. Why are they making things difficult for us?”
“I do not claim to understand the laws of the Gods or their methods.” The kelpie pushed himself up to stand. “But even if we had not met Balor on our travels, we would have to deal with this creature. It is her land that we are passing through.”
Eilean pushed herself up to sit and face him, no longer facing complaints from her once injured arm. She’d have to thank Freya properly when she woke up.
“You know who we’re meeting?” she asked.
Bhradain’s tail flicked nervously behind him, and he didn’t meet her gaze. “She and I are very similar creatures,” he began carefully. “Yet, I hold only a quarter of the power she does. It is her land we are entering, and it is her permission we must get.”
Leaning her arms on her thighs, Eilean stared curiously at the kelpie. She’d seen him nervous before when it had come to Freya, but this felt different. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward the river, as if he was considering jumping in. It took a second for Eilean to realize that he was afraid.
“Who is she?” Eilean asked.
He shook his head, his mane flicking from side to side. It seemed like he was trying to shake off the fear. “She is Death.”
Eilean blinked at him. Had she heard him correctly? She knew creatures of death existed; there was one standing right in front of her, after all. Yet in his words was something more final. More terrifying.
How could a creature of death be afraid of death itself?
“What do you mean, ‘She is Death’?” Eilean asked.
“You will understand when you meet her. We should be at her doors within a few days.” Bhradain shook his mane, splashing Eilean with unexpected water. “Do not be afraid. She is only a messenger. It is only what she will warn you of that you have to fear.”
“That’s reassuring,” Eilean said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her tone. She rubbed at her eyes, considering the possibility of them having to get moving soon. “How many days do we have left?”
“You mortals need your rest,” Bhradain said. To Eilean’s surprise, it was not said with his usual disdain. “We have enough yet to make it there in time.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
A small noise came from Freya, drawing Bhradain and Eilean’s attention to her. She rolled onto her back, still asleep, grunted, and then began to softly snore. Both Eilean and Bhradain let out a sigh of relief at not disturbing her.
With everything that had happened—between Freya and Bhradain, and then with Balor—Eilean hadn’t even checked to see how she was doing. She’d used magic again, and Eilean knew how that could affect her. But no, she’d only been thinking about herself. Hell, she’d barely even spoken to her since everything went down. All the effort had come from Freya.
