The Hunter's Moon (10 page)

“Our blessings upon you, lionhearted Mary!”

Onward again dashed the cavalcade, beneath the sky of stars. Over cairn and cashel, over bog and rushy pasture, over runneled rock meadow and holy well.
We do not wish to settle, we do not care to sleep
. From their marvelous height they could see everything, even the secrets that lay under the earth. Subterranean rivers streamed through labyrinthine caves. Stalactites pierced the dark underworld air. The black waters of turloughs seeped up through the limestone to glimmer in the moonlight.

When they reached the majestic Poulnabrone Dolmen, standing alone in a stony field, the fairies swooped down. Inside the sheltering walls of the cromlech, two young lovers lay asleep. Their beauty was marred by hunger and hardship, but they dreamed of a lasting future together. Neither regretted the love that had made them fugitives from the warriors of the Fianna and Finn MacCumhail.

A hush fell over the fairy folk as they approached the dolmen. All were solemn-eyed like worshippers at a wayside shrine. They laid gifts of food at the lovers’ feet and covered their cold limbs with sheepskin rugs.

Sweet Diarmuid and Gráinne. We who were ancient in ancient days grant thee a night’s peace from the din of men and the hunters’ hounds
.

The young couple stirred in each other’s arms and smiled in their sleep.

Airborne once more, Gwen was ready to ride forever.
Come away, O human child!
She had discarded all memory of her former life. She had forgotten her own name. There was only the night wind and the flight of the wild horses and the company of a shining angelic folk.
Come away to the bright-edged strand of the world
.

They soared over a farmhouse on the side of a mountain. With a start, Gwen recognized the thatched roof of the Quirke homestead. Bran was asleep on the doorstep, but he suddenly lifted his head to bay. Inside, the family turned in their beds as they, too, sensed the Hosting of the
Sídhe
pass by.

For Gwen, it was a nudge from her past. A discomfiting reminder.

“I’m human,” she whispered, both sad and surprised.

A warning sounded faintly in the back of her mind. A man’s voice echoing from far away.

You must take care, my dear. Otherwise both of you could be lost forever
.

Now the fairy troop began to descend toward a steep cliffside. As they plummeted downward, Gwen recognized the ridge to which the fox had led her. They were dropping so fast she was certain they would crash. Then she saw the crack in the side of the mountain.

With a rush of wings and wind, they sailed inside.

There was a moment, before the troop dismounted, when Gwen suffered the sensation that all was not as it seemed. The crevice they had entered appeared suddenly minute, an opening for creatures as small as insects. Her sight wavered. The fairy steeds looked like dragonflies!

“Is this a dream?” she wondered.

Midir came to lift her down from her horse. The firm grip of his hands around her waist steadied her.

“What’s real and what isn’t?” she asked him.

The summer-blue eyes were bright with laughter.

“The order of things is ours to play with. We can create a sun and a moon. The heavens we can sprinkle with radiant stars of the night. Wine we can make from the cold waters of the Boyne, sheep from stones, and swine from fern. On the mortal plane, life is a web of illusion. We weave what we wish.”

They were standing in a souterrain lit by torches. At the end of the long passageway was a flight of steps that led downward. The other fairies had run ahead, laughing and chattering among themselves. No longer shadowy beings of light, they appeared, like their captain, to be solid and human. Like him also, they were strikingly beautiful.

Midir offered Gwen his arm.

She hung back, uncertain. For all his charm, she didn’t trust him. Was she a pawn in some fairy game? He might abduct her as the King had done her cousin.

But when he spoke, he sounded sincere.

“Do not fear and no harm will befall you. Only take no food or wine that may be offered to you, if you wish to return to your world again.”

In the end, she went with him. What other choice did she have?

He led her down the steps, deep into the mountain. The rock walls were ribbed and muscled like a torso. The musky scent of clay caught at her throat. The tintinnabulation of trickling water chimed through the dimness. Deeper and deeper they went, till the lights disappeared and they were walking into darkness.
Over wave and over fountain. Under hill and under mountain
. Her grip on Midir’s arm tightened. She was beginning to fear she would never see daylight again.

Then they came to an archway with a great bronze door that opened into the hollow heart of the mountain.

And the fairy tale began anew.

The cavern was of breathtaking grandeur and beauty. Its vast floors gleamed a royal purple, smooth porphyry inlaid with crystals of amethyst. Marble pillars rose to the high ceiling to be lost in the recesses. A thousand white candles illumined the gallery. Elaborate tapestries draped the walls, their needlework depicting a land of enchantment.

Fruitful is every fair field in blossom. The salmon leap in
stony streams. Across the full waters glide winged swans. Ever green are the tangled groves of holly. Honey-gold are the woods. At eventide, the sun sends down its red shafts from out of the west. And strange birds nest in the apple trees
.

Gwen found herself thinking of the Garden of Eden. Did the fairies still have what her own race had lost? But there was little time to muse. Her senses were being bombarded by every kind of marvel.

The bright assembly of the Court was as splendid as the hall. Of every exquisite shape, size, and color, the fairies were resplendent in lavish fashion. There were flounces of silk and the sheen of satin, brocaded cloths stitched with gold-wrapped thread, rich dark velvets trimmed with pearls, and tasseled trains of lustrous damask. Every throat, arm, and wrist was ablaze with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Every head was adorned with tiaras or jeweled caps and combs.

Gwen blinked with astonishment. Never had she seen such extravagance! She would have stood there gaping all night, if Findabhair hadn’t come running.

“You got here! Well done, cuz! I thought that rascal might play tricks on you. The King, I mean. I had no way of reaching you. We’ve been on the move since Tara. God, it’s been madness. Parties day and night. These people are daft. I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven!”

“So, you’re okay.”

wen had only to look at her cousin to see that she was no suffering captive. In a gown of midnight-black filigreed with silver, Findabhair looked like a young queen. Her long hair, more golden now, was plaited in four locks with a diamond drop at each end. Eyes sparkling with laughter, cheeks flushed like two roses, she was obviously having the time of her life.

Her high spirits plunged at Gwen’s cool reception, and she was immediately contrite.

“Has it been hard for you? Oh Gwen, I’m so sorry. I agreed to go without thinking. I had no idea you wouldn’t come too!”

Gwen couldn’t speak. Too many things crowded into her mind and onto her tongue at the same time. How could her cousin be so selfish and self-centered? Had she given no thought to Gwen at all? And what might be happening to her? All the hardship Gwen had faced, searching frantically for her, the loneliness of the long road, the fairy trickeries, not to mention the constant worry in the back of her mind.
Is Findabhair safe? Is Findabhair suffering?
And here she was, all dressed up and having a ball!

At the same time—and in all fairness, Gwen admitted this—the adventure around Ireland had been truly exciting. She had surprised herself by doing so well on her own. And the friends she had made were well worth the trouble.

So why was she upset? Why this simmer of anger?

“What do you mean I wouldn’t come too?” she demanded.

Aware that something was wrong between them, Findabhair spoke frankly.

“Finvarra said so. The King of the Fairies. His name is like mine, isn’t that brilliant? Apparently my spirit agreed to go wholeheartedly—what can I say, that’s me—but you resisted. By fairy law, he couldn’t take you. He was very annoyed, let me tell you, as he wanted the two of us, the cheeky thing. Fairies are not monogamous by any stretch of the imagination.”

Findabhair burst out laughing. Gwen had to grin. Her cousin was “pure wild,” as Katie would say. But it was what she had said that assuaged Gwen’s feelings, for it removed the hurt she had secretly nursed inside. So, she hadn’t been left behind! The fairy folk didn’t reject her! It was her own nature that kept her back. Gwen’s grin widened as she understood.

“I’m just too practical to jump ‘wholeheartedly’ into Gagaland.”

As they laughed together, the tension between them eased.

“You’re still in black. You look terrific.” Gwen frowned at her own muddied clothes, so out of place in the gorgeous surroundings.

“Finvarra loves black too,” said Findabhair, “being Lord of the Night and all. Say a color—not pink or I’ll gag—and I’ll work a bit of magic on you.”

“Can you really?” Gwen was skeptical, but it was worth a try. “Well, if I can’t have pink, how about a passionate red and some of that silver stuff you’ve got?”

“Excellent! You’re getting more daring, old girl.”

With a mischievous grin, Findabhair waved her hand.

Gwen gasped at the transformation. Clouds of fiery satin floated around her. The bodice and sleeves were stippled with pearls. More pearls dripped from her ears and throat. Her feet were shod with ruby slippers.

“Wow! How did you do that?”

“Fairy glamour,” said her cousin, with a nonchalant shrug. “None of this is real, you know. We could be standing here starkers.”

“Thanks. I needed that thought like a hole in the head.”

But Gwen wasn’t going to worry about the finer details. She felt like Cinderella who had finally gotten to the ball, and she was going to make the most of it before her time ran out!

Now it was Findabhair’s turn to be serious. Catching Gwen’s arm, she drew her away to a secluded corner of the hall.

“Listen, we need to talk before Finvarra makes his grand entrance. I don’t want him to overhear.”

“‘Disenchanted’ already, are we?”

“Ha ha. But this is no joke, Gwen. He’s a tricky divil. Don’t underestimate him. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, so I’m cooling his heels. It’s not easy, I really fancy him, and I’m beginning to think the feeling’s mutual. But I can tell he’s not happy that you escaped him. He’s plotting against you. I don’t know what or how, but you’ve got to be careful.”

“Is this a big game or what?”

“
Life
is a game for the fairies, Gwen. Feasting and frolic, music and dancing. They’ve been here since the world began, but they never grow old and I’d say they never grow up.”

“Permanent teenagers,” Gwen said, in awe.

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Findabhair agreed. “And that’s why I love them. But you have to keep in mind, they are not like us. They don’t have the same kind of feelings. Guilt is something they know nothing about. That might be fine for some, but it means they can get away with murder without batting an eyelid.”

“You seem to know them pretty well.”

“To live with them is to know them,” Findabhair declared airily. Then she added, with a rueful grimace, “And I am their Queen, for what it’s worth.”

Gwen had to smile. “You might think I’ve changed, but you have too. You sound a lot more sensible.”

“Hey, when everyone around you is cracked, you’ve got to keep a head on your shoulders.” Now she lowered her voice, worried. “I’m serious about the warning, cuz. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something wrong. Under all this sweetness and light, I smell a rat. Something dark.”

“
I, too, was the hostage,
” Gwen murmured, “
I, too, was the Hunted and the Sacrificed.
”

Findabhair’s features froze.

“What did you say?”