A/N: Welcome to the second chapter, and probably the longest author's note I'll ever write. :) If ever a chapter went through edits, cuts and amendments, it was this one, lol. My thanks to Jensti and Magnusrae for some extremely helpful proof-reading.
Here, you'll be brought up to speed on Eadoin and Aine, meet a new friend and enjoy (I hope) a brief glimpse into the magical realm of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Given the locale, and the fact that I am a stickler for accuracy, there are many names and words from the Irish language in this chapter (this will not be the case for the entire story, I promise). As requested, I offer the following pronunciation guide for those interested:
Fionnbharra (Fin-var'-ah); Cnoc Meadha (Nock-mah'); Lough Derg (Lock Dair-eg); Londubh (Lon-doo'); Daire (like the word, 'dairy' )
Sasanach (sah'-san-akh -- Englishman); mo bhuachaill (mo voo'-ah-khal -- my boy/lad); a bhodach (ah vo'-dakh -- old man (as in addressing someone as such -- bodach means an elderly man)); teacht (chakht -- come (as in a command)); Ard Rí (ard ree -- High King); geis (gaysh -- 'Taboo' would be a close approximation. Wikipedia has a great explanation); púca (poo-ka) the shape-shifter of the Irish 'fair folk'); anamchara (an-am-khar'-ah -- if you read A Question of Faith, you know this one...); a stór (ah stor') and daoine sídhe (dee-neh shee) -- ditto :)
Whew! Btw... the 'ch' in Irish is similar to the German 'ich'... right at the back of the throat. :p Again, I am far from fluent in Irish. If a native speaker of that beautiful language notices any glaring errors, I would appreciate your input.
Now, if I haven't totally put you off with the 'language lesson'... I hope you enjoy the following. :)
Disclaimer: The characters of the anime InuYasha are the property of Takahashi Rumiko/Shogakukan and Yomiuri TV Sunrise 2000. Aine, Eadoin and their companions were inspired by the magical myths and legends of Ireland -- they were born in my own imagination... with one exception, on which I shall elaborate at the end of the chapter. ;)
Chapter Two: Written In The Stars...
As dawn's light saw Sesshoumaru contemplating his options in tracking Naraku, elsewhere, the night had barely begun.
A misty rain had been falling on the western territories of Éire since early morning, creating what the people of that verdant land referred to as, 'a soft day'. Although spring was near, bringing with it a most welcome lengthening of the days, dusk still came early at this time of year. When winds from the northwest finally dispersed the clouds and fog, the land was treated to a beautiful but brief sunset; then, the night sky opened wide to display a glorious array of stars.
The frost which had descended with the ensuing darkness had rimed all in its path with white. Even so, there were still those abroad who welcomed the contemplative silence of the night. It was just past midnight, and the brethren of a small, secluded monastic community were silently making their way to their chapter house for the office of matins. With their cowls raised to ward off the late night chill, the monks seemed almost spectral as they crossed the open courtyard. Such a fancy was quickly dispelled, however, as their occasional stifled yawns and coughs interrupted the surrounding silence.
Soon, the old, flagstone courtyard was empty. Then, the quiet of the night was again broken – this time by the brothers' voices raised in song: 'Venite exultemus Domino, jubilemus Deo, salutari nostro...'
The ancient words of the ninety-fourth psalm, made even more beautiful by a harmony born of years of practice, were carried beyond the little stone chapter house to drift across the surrounding fields. Normally, there would no one to hear them except the wild creatures which prowled the surrounding heather and gorse-covered moorland. Yet, on this particular night, the music of the holy office had a more appreciative audience.
The identities of those who listened just beyond the main gateway of the monastery would have been of considerable surprise to its inhabitants. Fortunately, the visitors had merely stopped for a brief rest before finishing the last leg of an important journey and had no intention of disrupting the monks' understanding of reality. They had made certain their chosen seat – a low, dry-stone wall edging the fallow field where their horses now grazed – was not visible from the courtyard. And, even if someone did glance through the small window by the oak gate, one of the two without was about to ensure that there would be nothing to see but an empty field.
Aine Ní Airmed faced the monastery and held her hand toward its grey stone walls. 'No one is here...'she murmured, as she moved her hand, palm outwards, in a smooth arc from left to right. With these words, a glamour – a barrier of 'nothing there' – sprang into being, and the sound of the monks' singing became slightly muted.
This casual use of magic by the attractive, bright-haired woman was easily explained, for she was one of the daoine sídhe or the people of the hollow hills, more correctly known as the Tuatha Dé Danann – the people of Danú. The unsuspecting monks would have heard of that immortal race, but they would have scoffed at any notion that they were real, for the Dé Dananns had retreated to their hidden lands long before the New Faith came to Éire. They and the rounded mounds or 'fairy hills', which were the gateways to their realms, were but the stuff of legends. It was a perception the reclusive 'fair folk' took care to cultivate.
Her small task completed, the Dé Danann healer exhaled softly. Sweeping her tartan brat or cloak behind her, she sat upon the low, sturdy wall and allowed her spirit to bask in the beauty of the age-old chant. It had been far too many years, she thought, since she had visited this peaceful spot and listened to the brothers' tranquil music.
Unlike most Dé Dananns, Aine enjoyed mingling with mortals, but common sense dictated that the appearance of strangers outside the monastery gates at this time of night would give rise to questions. And, considering that Aine had just come from the court of Fionnbharra, the Ard Rí or High King of the Dé Dananns, and was dressed accordingly, questions there would most certainly be. In her finery, she looked every inch a 'fairy woman'. Plus, even the most sceptical of mortals could not fail to realise the rather... exotic nature of her fellow traveller.
Aine, with her copper and gold braid and warm, green eyes, was truly a striking woman. But, Elarinya, a Light Elf from the Albenwald of Bavaria, possessed an exquisite loveliness which could never be mistaken as human.
The flaxen-haired elven beauty was the bride of Aine's cousin, Eadoin. Or, as Eadoin himself had been wont to say, Elarinya was, '... proof, surely, that the world is meant to be explored.' The cousins had only recently returned from a journey which had taken them far beyond the borders of Éire. Their direction had often been chosen on a whim, as stories of the unknown and the wondrous drew the bard to new lands where they had encountered a myriad of cultures – mortal and otherwise. Though these travels had been seen as eccentric by their people, neither Dé Danann regretted the experience. Eadoin, certainly, would always be grateful for the impulse which had taken them into the forests of Bavaria. And, as she now exchanged a companionable smile with the newest member of their clan, Aine reflected that she could well understand how Elarinya had captured her cousin's heart.
The bard's bride was a kind and gentle soul, and her love for him was evident, for she had left her homeland to be with him – a choice which had raised objections among her own kin. Still, the ethereal-looking Elarinya had proven to have a core of iron within her slim frame and, after some gentle arguments (for, among the elf-kin, all matters were addressed with decorum), an accord had been reached. Her family had sent her on her way with their blessings and an escort befitting the daughter of a noble house.
Much celebration still awaited the happy couple. Though already married, they would soon enjoy a second wedding – one which, Aine knew, would be far more 'high-spirited' than the dignified elven nuptials. This had been the reason for their recent visit to the High King's court at Cnoc Meadha; Fionnbharra himself had been invited to the ceremony, and etiquette had demanded that they issue the invitation personally.
Aine had also sought an audience with the High King, but for reasons not related to the upcoming celebrations. Now, as she sat listening to the relaxing strains of the monks' voices, the healer realised she was unsure of how she felt about Fionnbharra's granting of her request.
Though... 'tis done, she thought. Now, if the Ard Rí's one condition is met, there will be no turning back.
Elarinya was aware of her friend's distraction. She withheld comment, however, and waited patiently for the healer to gather her thoughts. Aine had been very quiet on their journey south from Fionnbharra's court; it had been the elf-maid who had suggested they take a short rest to enjoy the clear night – a rarity, certainly, at this time of year in Éire. Elarinya knew that Aine had mixed feelings about her plans and that, though he supported his cousin's wish, her Eadoin had his own misgivings. Understanding her love's concern (for she knew the cousins were as close as siblings), she could only hope that the errand he had undertaken would be successful – for, his own peace of mind depended on it.
The monk's psalm ended at that moment. As the deep voices moved smoothly into a hymn, Aine pulled herself from her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder toward a nearby hill, where the three elven archers who had accompanied them on their journey had retreated to enjoy the night sky from a closer vantage point.
'I hope the others weren't overwhelmed by Fionnbharra's court, a stór?' Aine asked the elf-maid. 'Cnoc Meadha is quite an experience, even for Dé Dananns.'
Elarinya shook her head, and moonlight sparkled on the delicately-wrought, silver combs which swept her silken hair back from her daintily-pointed ears. 'It was a bit more "exuberant" than they've experienced, but...' here, the elf-maid gave her new friend a knowing smile, '...they enjoyed themselves. Especially Thalion.'
This comment caused Aine to smile. The tall, well-favoured archer captain had caused a stir among the women of her own clan – at Fionnbharra's sídhe, he had caused a mild sensation. 'Aye,' she agreed. 'I'd noticed his comrades had to rescue him on occasion. I'm not sure he was entirely pleased with their efforts, so.'
Elarinya laughed softly as she, too, glanced to the hill behind them. 'I've no doubt that his 'popularity' is under discussion e'en now.' Then, the elven woman gave the healer's hand a friendly squeeze. 'Truly, dear Aine, everyone has been so kind. I must confess, though Eadoin was confident of our reception, I was a bit worried. After all, it is the first time there has been a marriage between our peoples.'
'Ah, but all's well, a stór. You're merely experiencing a very typical Dé Danann reaction to a wedding. Things will have calmed down by month's end,' answered Aine.
'For us, they will... but, as for your own course...?' Elarinya ventured to ask gently.
'I'd always intended to return to the Japans, Elarinya,' the healer said softly, her expression one again pensive. 'Travelling was never a hardship for me. 'Tis only the timing of the trip that's thrown everyone off-balance, including myself.' Aine had, in fact, looked forward to returning to the magical, distant land in a year or two, for she would be glad to see again (and to learn more about) the remarkable taiyokai with whom she shared the rare gift of an anamchara bond. However, her plans had been altered. Aine would instead venture forth from her homeland within a month's time. 'Fionnbharra wasn't best pleased,' she added.
'But, he gave his consent.'
'Aye... Aye, that he did. Truly, Eadoin and Daire were most persuasive.'
Elarinya nodded, knowing how both men had spoken on the healer's behalf. She was well acquainted with the story of the cousins' adventure in the Far East and of Aine's soul-bond with the mysterious and powerful inu yokai. And, though she was saddened by the thought of Aine's departure, the elf-maid understood the reasons behind the decision.
The druid, Daire, had come with them to Cnoc Meadha, and had been pivotal in convincing the Ard Rí that Aine's reasons for leaving Éire again were legitimate. His words to Fionnbharra had been blunt: ''Tis written in the very stars. If Aine doesn't return to that far land before summer's end, regret will surely be her companion.'
'The future can take many directions, Aine,' said Elarinya now. 'The signs in the heavens are there for us to follow, but, still, they are guidelines only.' At this, Elarinya reached out to briefly cup Aine's face with her hand. 'Yet, I know you believe in your own heart that your choice is right.'
The healer had often marvelled at the peaceful wisdom in elven eyes. Now, she also saw the gentle assurance in Elarinya's brilliant, blue-green gaze, and she drew comfort from it.
'Thank you, a stór. Aye, I know it's the right path – I think it's just the suddenness of it all that's surprised me as much as anyone,' replied Aine. 'Daire was certain of the portents and... I know well his thoroughness. Though he's not much my elder, he was once my teacher. And,' she added with a smile, 'he was ever one to check all twice and yet again.'
The Dé Danann woman's expression became thoughtful as she again regarded the peaceful landscape before them. The moon was bright, causing the buildings to cast shadows across the silvered ground. Aine knew she would have liked to remain longer in her lovely Éire, but, now that she was resolved in her course... she couldn't deny that excitement stirred in her breast at the thought of travelling, of feeling the sea winds upon her face and seeing again the mystical Japans, so full of magic and wonder...
The healer suddenly felt more content. Then, she realised that the monks had finished their late night office. The music had ended – it was time that they continued on their way home. Leaving the glamour to disperse gradually on its own, Aine and Elarinya mounted their sídhe-bred horses and rode up into the moorland to meet the archers.
'How long will your friend Daire remain at Cnoc Meadha?' Elarinya asked as they skirted the remains of a ring fort far older than the monastery in the vale below. Their 'fairy' steeds moved silently through the frost-coated heather, leaving no broken stems or tracks in their wake.
'Only a few days,' answered Aine. 'He told Eadoin that he had other business to attend, but he'll be home well in time for the festivities.'
'Eadoin was most cryptic when he left on his own errand,' the elf-maid suddenly remarked, her curiosity evident in her expression. 'Who is this escort he seeks for you?'
Aine's green eyes briefly sparkled with mirth at the thought of the serene Elarinya meeting the person Eadoin had suggested as his cousin's travelling companion. For, a companion Aine must have – of that, Fionnbharra had been adamant, saying that a woman journeying alone in the mortal world would draw too much interest. And, the Ard Rí himself agreed with the choice. But, thought the healer, thinking of the person her cousin now sought, is it too much to ask of you, my old friend...?
'I think you'll find him... interesting,' Aine answered the curious elf-maid.
Eadoin had said much the same to his bride. Obviously, Elarinya thought, this unknown Dé Danann was someone better experienced than described. She decided not to press the topic. 'Well, dear one, I'm glad you do not have to leave before the ceremonies,' she said instead.
The healer smiled. 'Ah, no matter what Daire's star charts say, I'd not miss that.' Her impending departure had not dampened Aine's anticipation of the wedding feast of her beloved 'brother of her heart'. 'The winds of the southern ocean won't be favourable 'til Beltane. Next month will early enough to set out, especially since your people are willing to again grant passage through their lands.'
'But, of course – we are family now,' Elarinya answered. 'Thalion will see you safely to the Albenwald, then our kin will guide you through the portals.' The elf-maid paused, then she added softly, 'Aine... when you do see your soul-friend again, please... tell this Sesshoumaru, this taiyokai Lord of the West, that he will ever have my gratitude. Without his intervention, there would be no celebrations to come.'
Aine nodded, fully understanding Elarinya's gratitude to the dog demon. The two women were silent for a while. Then, as the mounted elven archers came into sight, Elarinya spoke again, this time with a gently teasing tone.
'From what you have said of this Sesshoumaru, Aine, I suspect that, even with the assistance of the empathic link you share, he will be a mystery a long time in the solving.'
Aine chuckled. 'Then, perhaps it's best I'm having an early start, after all.'
'Now then... where are you, old friend?'
The softly murmured question came from a tall, blue-eyed man leaning against a dry-stone wall. He crossed his arms, tucking the thick folds of his brat against him to ward off the chill morning mist; a few strands of his long golden-brown hair, newly escaped from the single braid which bound it, clung damply to his handsome face as he scanned the field before him, knowing it to be a favourite haunt of the one he sought.
He himself rarely passed this way, for he had little desire these days to visit the Pale, that area around Dublin that marked the limits of Sasanach or English influence in Éire. However, he knew that an area teeming with naïve foreigners would be irresistible to one with a certain predilection for... mischief.
So far, all was quiet and peaceful in the pre-dawn light. The small flock of sheep grazing within the enclosed lea had barely acknowledged his arrival in their little world. Then, he heard a low groan coming from the far side of the pasture. Curious, he gratefully detached himself from his position against the rough stone and walked toward the noise. The sheep continued to graze the early spring grass as he moved among them; the normally flighty animals were undisturbed by his passage. He noticed, however, that they were maintaining a wide berth around the base of a massive beech tree. It was from here that a second pathetic groan came... and soon Eadoin Ó Cethen, bard of the Tuatha Dé Danann, perceived its origin.
A man was lying face down on the short cropped grass at the base of the tree. Eadoin recognised the garb of an English foot soldier – and the pungent smells of ale and whiskey. However, the bard saw that the mortal was affected by more than the drink. He bent and gently nudged the prone form on the ground before him, but received only a whimper in response. The soldier curled his body, as if trying to bury himself deeper into whatever dreams plagued him.
'That one will be asleep a while yet, bard.'
The amused-sounding voice came from above the Dé Danann. Continuing to watch the English soldier with curiosity, and some concern, Eadoin addressed the unseen speaker.
'Danú, Lon... how far did you take him?'
A faint rustling of leaves caused the bard to look upwards. Eyes of an even more brilliant shade of blue than his own regarded him from a rather unlikely source. A sound which could only be a chuckle came from the blackbird perched on a low branch of the tree. The small creature briskly shook itself and briefly preened its feathers. Then, the bird looked down at the foreign soldier, canting its head to the side as it watched the sleeping man with amusement.
'Ah now,' said the bird, ''twas only a short jaunt. I thought he might like to see Lough Derg by the moonlight.' It again regarded the bard. 'Don't look so worried, Eadoin – he'll find his way back to his barracks from here.'
'You took the poor man thirty leagues and back?' There was disapproval in Eadoin's voice, but also a note of admiration. Your aura of power may not be one of the strongest, little one... he thought, but your stamina defies description.
The small black bird actually managed to look sulky. 'Sure, and wasn't he after deserving it? The man meets a black horse – with no tack – standing in the road, in the dead of night, and decides he'll ride it. Only a foreigner would be that daft.'
'The foreigners also have black powder, a áilteoir,' the bard answered softly. 'You aren't immune to their weapons, my friend. And, they're not fools. Word will spread among the English soldiers, and you'll become their prey instead.'
The bird chuckled again, obviously not offended at being called 'trickster'. Suddenly, it flapped its wings and took flight. It only circled once around the tree, however – then, it descended to land before Eadoin and began to grow and change shape before his eyes.
The Dé Danann merely raised one eyebrow at this remarkable sight, and wondered what form he would see next. He had witnessed such shape-shifting many times in the past, though he was thankful that the English infantryman remained unconscious. After all, considering what he had experienced last night (Eadoin felt a slight chill when he considered the speed at which the poor soldier would have travelled during his 'short jaunt'), seeing a blackbird change into a man would surely put an end to the foreigner's reason.
The bard saw the soft, golden glow of a Dé Danann aura shimmer about the bird for a moment. Then, black feathers and wings rapidly stretched and flowed into the lithe form of a youth, garbed in breeches, boots and a soft grey, linen tunic.Eadoin smiled, seeing that his friend had chosen to appear in what seemed to be his favourite human form, though he well knew that a greybeard could just as easily have been the result of the transformation, rather than a lad who looked no more than fifteen.
The 'young man' who now stood before the bard grinned cheekily as he stretched his arms then flexed his slim, supple fingers as if trying them out for size. His lean and sharp-featured face was topped by a long, thick mop of black hair, and his slightly slanted eyes, peering mischievously through a shaggy fringe, were still intensely blue; in fact, the colour of his eyes was the one thing about Lon that never changed.
'I appreciate your concern, Eadoin,' he said. 'But, the day I can't outsmart mortals, pigs will fly.' Then, he held out his hand. 'Ah. And, by the way... welcome back.'
As the two clasped hands, Lon suddenly dropped all trappings of formality. Laughing delightedly, he pulled the taller man into a quick, friendly embrace. 'It's well pleased I am to see you, mo bhuachaill. I'd heard that you and Aine had returned.'
'I'm glad you're well, old friend,' replied Eadoin. He was about to add to this comment when the soldier lying behind them began to snore loudly.
Sparing the oblivious mortal another amused glance, Lon companionably draped his arm over the taller Dé Danann's shoulder. 'Teacht... come, let's leave the Sasanach to his dreams. I suspect,' he then said, with a slight smirk, 'that you've another reason for tracking me down than the need to tell an old horse not to be baiting poor, little Englishmen.'
'Aye,' said Eadoin, as the two made their way across the pasture. 'I've a proposition for you, Lon.'
'Do you now?' The foxy-faced youth's eyes sparkled with curiosity and he again grinned, showing gleaming white teeth. 'You've captured my interest, bard... what can Londubh of the Púca Clan do for you?'
'What would you say to taking a sea voyage?' asked Eadoin as they approached the stone wall that enclosed the pasture.
Lon chuckled and, in one bound, leapt lightly to the top of the wall. Balancing easily on the mortarless stones, he turned and grinned down at the bard. ''Tisn't polite to be making sport of your elders, Eadoin,' he said. Then, his smile faltered as he looked down at his friend. Lon was as adept as a bard when it came to reading facial expressions. He quickly realised he had made an error. 'You're not joking.'
Eadoin shook his head. He kept silent as he hefted himself upon and over the wall, giving the púca some time to absorb what, he knew, would have been a startling question.
'Well,' said the smaller Dé Danann, 'I know there has to be a story behind that request.'
'Aye, there is,' answered the bard. 'And, it's to do with Aine.'
Lon stopped in mid-stride and stared at Eadoin. 'You'd best start at the beginning...'
The two friends halted when they came across a secluded glade within a large stand of oaks. A fallen trunk made a convenient seat, for which the púca was most grateful; he felt a sudden need to sit as he listened to the bard's tale with rapt attention, and not a little trepidation. Even with the story-telling skills of a bard, it still took some time for Eadoin to tell Lon of his and Aine's adventure in the Japans. When Eadoin began to explain Aine's plan to return to the far, eastern land, and the reasons behind it, Lon's blue eyes widened in surprise.
'Now, back up there, mo bhuachaill,' he said then, interrupting the bard in mid-sentence. 'You can tell me of Daire's star-gazing in a moment, but... Anamchara? Aine has an anamchara? Is this Sesshoumaru a druid of some sort?'
Hearing this, Eadoin had to stifle a laugh, for he knew the púca had no idea of the absurdity of grouping the enigmatic and ruthless dog demon with the druids. 'Far from it, Lon. Far from it,' he answered, shaking his head. 'One doesn't have to be a druid to form a soul-bond. You must know that.'
Lon snorted. 'Aye, but 'tis a process they own to have perfected. Yet, this one came about by accident, you say?'
Eadoin nodded. 'Aine will tell you more, Lon – if, that is, you'll agree to accompany her. She'll not have me.' He smiled as he said this. 'She knows me too well, a bhodach. Aine was ever the one to venture outside the sídhe – far more than myself. And, though our journey was my own idea, and I'll never regret it, I've had enough wandering for a while...'
'Aye, and you've a bond of your own to keep you here,' relied Lon with a knowing smirk – an expression which seemed most out of place on such a youthful face. 'Sure, but you being wed might be the most astonishing thing you've told me this morning. Was there a very loud wail when your foreign beauty stepped foot in your sídhe, Eadoin? For, I can name at least a dozen maids who surely wept at the news.'
It was Eadoin's turn to snort. His single state had long been a favourite taunt of Lon's. The púca was very fond of tormenting Eadoin about, '... caring more for your craft than for courting.' The bard turned to his friend with a wry grin. 'Then, you must be sure to offer those maids some comfort – after all, old man, isn't it time you yourself settled down?'
At this, the púca laughed aloud. 'Perhaps I'll consider it.' Then, Lon was instantly sober again. 'This is important to the lass, isn't it?'
'Aye. There are few among our people who venture long outside our realms these days, Lon. And, I can think of no one our clan would trust more to go with her.'
The púca looked up sharply at this and his blue eyes narrowed in contemplation. It was true: he himself rarely set foot within a sídhe – for good reason – and he was accustomed to mixing with mortals, though his own reasons for seeking their company was quite different from those of the healer and the bard. To Lon, mortals were a source of entertainment. Yet, he knew that what Eadoin was suggesting actually did make sense – except for the part about getting on a boat...
'I'll need to know more, Eadoin. And, who's to say the Ard Rí will even allow it?'
'Fionnbharra has already given his consent,' Eadoin relied softly.
Lon grimaced. 'Well, good for bloody Fionnbharra,' he muttered. 'Very big of him, I'm sure. And, did our High King also get that damned geis lifted from me?'
'Even Fionnbharra has only so much power over the Council of Druids, Lon. That ruling was far before his time.'
'But not before mine,' Lon answered bitterly. 'For the treachery of a few, my entire clan was placed under that damned curse! None of us can risk taking the form of a bird anywhere near the sea coast, lest a strong wind carries us over the salt water.' With these angry words, the smaller Dé Danann suddenly stood and stalked to the other side of the glade.
The bard carefully kept his expression free of sympathy, understanding it would not be appreciated. He knew the tale well... of how the druids had had the unified consent of the daoine sídhe when they had cast that spell of prohibition so long ago. The wording of the geis had been straightforward: 'If any púca flies over sea water, then their death will soon follow', and it had been a very effective way for the Tuatha Dé Danann to exert some control over the wild and often intractable shape-changers. Though a púca could assume many forms, marine creatures weren't among them; thus, with flight over salt water denied to them, travel by boat had become a truly intimidating prospect to a group with scant tolerance for any form of confinement.
Eadoin had thought long and hard before making his request to his old friend, for he understood what setting foot on a ship – to be at the ocean's mercy, as subject to its whims as a mortal – would mean to the independent Londubh. Indeed, Aine had felt it was too much to ask of the púca, and had initially argued against the idea of him accompanying her. However, the bard had finally persuaded her that Lon was her best option, and that he should at least be approached.
Lon had remained silent for several minutes. Eadoin merely eyed the rigid back before him and gave his friend time to calm himself. Then, the dark-haired 'youth' turned to face the bard.
'Ach, well...' said Lon, a strained smile upon his face, '... tell me the rest.'
Eadoin exhaled slowly, his expression a mixture of relief and concern. 'Lon... ' he said, 'You mustn't feel any obligation. No one in our clan would blame you...'
'Aye... I know, so,' the shape-shifter interrupted the bard. 'Now, when must we leave...?'
The hall of Cnoc Meadha was a bright, cheerful place, and usually filled with people. However, by mid-morning, the residents and guests of Fionnbharra's sídhe had long since broken their fast and had gone about their various duties. The benches and tables that surrounded the central hearth were unoccupied – but for one, solitary figure.
Daire, chief druid of the sídhe of Dian Cecht, sat before the fire, his fingers absently stroking the rim of a goblet of mead on the table before him. His long tunic hung loosely on his spare frame, its slightly rumpled appearance evidence that he had slept in his clothes. The expression in his grey eyes was contemplative as his stare fixed upon a small gap in the hearth stones before him. He wondered... had he made the right decision?
Aye... of course. There could be no doubt – the stars' portents had been clear. He had checked his calculations several times. Aine must leave this spring. If only...
A hint of a smile graced his lips as he remembered his surprise on seeing the healer standing in the doorway of his workshop. The usually reserved cleric had dismissed formality and happily welcomed his 'favourite student'. He recalled, too, his pleasure when she had given him a gift – a collection of seeds of exotic, foreign herbs. The knowledge that she had even thought of him during her travels had, in fact, left him momentarily tongue-tied, though if Aine had noticed this, she had not drawn attention to it; when she had complimented him on receiving the post of chief druid in her absence, he had quickly recovered his speech and had ushered her to a comfortable chair.
However, the discerning Daire had soon realised that Aine's visit was not just a social call to an old friend. Amazed, he had listened to the story of how she had gained her anamchara. But, when she had told him of what had happened during her journey home, his face had shown his concern and bewilderment.
It had been within the elven realms, the healer had told him, that she had first felt a change in the soul-bond. As soon as she had set foot on that soil, the bond had activated – it had been similar, she had said, to its behaviour under the influence of her anamchara's 'demonic aura'. The result had been a persistent sensation that Aine could only describe as 'an echo of his life-force'. It had vanished when she had left the elven lands, but had returned in a rush when she had entered her own clan's sídhe. Therefore, she had sought her old friend's expert advice.
Assuring her he would soon resolve the matter, the skilled druid had set about examining the empathic bond. Confident he could answer her questions, he had cast the spells needed to view Aine's soul on the spiritual plane... only to meet with a sight he would never forget.
The aura of Aine's soul was normal – of that, Daire had quickly assured her. But, as for the 'echo' she had sensed, on this he could only speculate, for he had never known of a soul-friend who was not Dé Danann, let alone not human. 'All anamchara leave a faint imprint,' he had told her, 'But, that you can actually feel this Sesshoumaru's essence...' He had shaken his head in puzzlement. Perhaps, he had said then, it was an effect of the taiyokai's unique power. Certainly, the magical energies within the sídhe were enhancing it...
Unaccustomed to being unable to explain a spiritual vision, Daire had prevaricated. Aine had realised he was holding back, however, and she had gently coaxed the rest of the information from him. To his amazement, it had not disturbed her as it had him. Nevertheless, for his own peace of mind, he had asked her permission to consult the stars on her behalf. The result had been the prediction which had determined Aine's present course – and his current brooding, out of which he was now startled by a deep voice behind him.
'Staring won't make the stone return.'
Daire issued a small yelp and looked over his shoulder to see Fionnbharra standing behind him. The amused look on the High King's handsome face rapidly became apologetic when he realised the extent of the druid's embarrassment at being caught unawares.
'Be at peace, man,' said Fionnbharra. 'And, don't get up,' he added, as Daire moved to stand. Flushing bright red, the druid sat again on the bench.
Fionnbharra said nothing more about the man's discomfiture. Instead, he sat beside him and, reaching for a pitcher, poured himself a generous measure of mead.
Daire was not surprised by this casual behaviour – the High King was known for not standing on ceremony, though those that knew him well were aware that his easy-going nature masked a shrewd mind. Currently, however, Fionnbharra hardly looked imposing, dressed as he was in a plain tunic and breeches, with his long, golden hair loosely tied at the nape of his neck. He, too, appeared a bit rumpled, though Daire suspected that any sleep lost by the Ard Rí had been due to more pleasurable activities than a meeting with the Council of Druids.
As if reading his mind, the High King suddenly asked, 'So, how did you fare with the Council?'
The druid sighed and combed his long, red-brown hair back from his face with his fingers. Suddenly realising his mouth was dry, he sipped his mead before speaking. 'Well enough. They could hardly object when you'd already given your blessing to Eadoin's choice.'
'You seem... concerned, Daire. Don't tell me you've changed your opinion?'
Daire looked surprised. 'About the Londubh? No, Ard Rí. His loyalty to Dian Cecht's line is without question. If he agrees, Aine could not be in safer hands.' As he spoke, the druid's gaze again went to the small gap in the ring of hearth stones.
Fionnbharra had noticed his brief distraction. Ah, he thought, is that the way of it, so? Compassion flickered in his kind eyes as he looked at the cleric. 'Do you disapprove of my parting gift to the lass?' he then asked.
Daire's posture stiffened at these words, then his shoulders sagged slightly. 'I do not, Ard Rí,' he said. Then, he added in almost a whisper, 'I... just hope she never uses it...'
Fionnbharra merely nodded. Then, having finished his mead, the High King stood. He briefly clasped the druid's shoulder. 'Aine is well used to the outside world, Daire. We can only wish her well... and hope for the best.'
As Fionbharra exited the hall, Daire stared again at the hearth, then he tossed back his own drink in one draught. Aye, he reflected. We... I... can only hope for the best.
The druid pondered again the massive, silver-blue dog he had seen enveloping the aura of Aine's soul. The bond had been a true anamchara connection, of that there could be no doubt. But, as for that imprint of Aine's 'soul-friend'...
Daire poured himself another drink.
A/N: Yes, I missed one... a áilteoir (ah awl'-chor).
The Dé Danann characters are my own invention, with the exception of Fionnbharra, an actual character from Irish myth. I couldn't resist including him... he's such a charming rogue in the old stories, lol. According to legend, he would have been the High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann during the 16th century, which is, of course, when this tale takes place. In fact, according to legend, he still is. ;) His sídhe is supposed to be the hill of Cnoc Meadha (long since anglicised as 'Knockma') near the town of Tuam in County Galway. Yes, you can find it on a map. :p
The púca (or 'pooka') is also a common figure in Irish 'fairy stories', though the geis inflicted upon the clan was my invention.
Next, we skip ahead to summer in Japan...
