Muse (Tales of Silver Downs Book 1) (36 page)

"And yet Owain had to point out even that much to you." Brigit's tone was bitter. "I would have thought all those tales might have taught you something."

"They did. I just didn't expect to find something straight out of a tale right in front of me."

Brigit gave me an incredulous look. "What has this whole journey been if not something straight out of a tale? You create a creature in your mind that somehow comes to life, one of our party gets abducted by a beast that most certainly shouldn't exist, we spend days searching bewitched tunnels, and answer a dragon's riddles. Is this not exactly like a tale? Even without what happened to me?"

"Well, yes, but…" It was clear there was nothing I could say that would make this better.

Brigit rolled her eyes.

"You could have tried to tell me," I said. "Why didn't you?"
 

My feelings were a confused mix. Hurt that the little terrier who had been my companion for weeks was not what she seemed to be. Surprise that she was really this fierce creature who glared at me until I wanted to sink into the ground. Amazement that it was really a woman with whom I had shared my darkest secrets and deepest hurts. Hope that perhaps, despite everything, there might be a tiny chance of a future for us.

"Why didn't I tell you, Diarmuid?" Brigit's tone rang with sarcasm. "Do you know how many times I tried? Every time I communicated with you, I was hoping you would realise I was no ordinary dog. And you know what? You never noticed. You were too busy being wrapped up in yourself and your quest. The noble bard who releases evil into the world and goes on a heroic journey to redeem himself and humanity."

"You make me sound pathetic. But I
did
release evil into the world and I
did
have to do something about it."

"Yes, yes, I know." Brigit sounded tired suddenly, as if all of the fight was gone out of her and there was nothing else left. "You know what, Diarmuid, just go."

My heart fluttered anxiously. If I left now without saying what I needed to, I would never have the courage to try again. I took a deep breath as she started to turn her horse around.

"Brigit, there's something I need to say."

She paused but didn't turn around. I took a deep breath. I had to do it.

"No," she said.

"But I have to-"

"I'm not interested." Her voice was calm and indifferent. "Whatever you want to say, it can go unsaid."

"No, it can't." I surprised myself but suddenly I couldn't leave without knowing I had at least tried.

She turned back to face me and I was struck by the lack of emotion in her face. She didn't care. Despite all we had been through together, Brigit didn't care about me.

I flicked my horse's reins and fled. There was no point saying anything. She was right. There was nothing left to say. At least I hadn't humiliated myself by telling her I thought I loved her. My eyes filled with tears and I dashed them away with an impatient hand. This would not be the homecoming I had hoped for, returning with Bramble, or Brigit, at my side.

Of course it won't be,
Ida said.
You didn't really think it would be anything like you imagined, did you? Oh, poor little Diarmuid, you really did. What a shame.
 

I ignored her taunts and redoubled my focus on keeping her box secure. Ida fought back, briefly, but she seemed to have little fight in her yet. That would change. She would regain her strength and it would be harder to keep her locked away. But I would become stronger too, Fiachra had said. And with time and practice, it would be easier to keep Ida in her box. Maybe one day I would hardly even know she was there.

The sun was already sinking by the time the horse brought me in sight of the Silver Downs lodge. Lamp light shone from the windows and I could just make out a stream of smoke from the chimney against the red-streaked sky. My family would be sitting down to eat soon. If I hurried, I might be home in time for dinner.
 

I anticipated a raucous greeting with my brothers crowding around and Mother fussing over me. There should be news by now of whether Caedmon had arrived safely at the campaign front and I would finally learn whether Grainne had been injured.

Would they find me changed? I didn't know how to account for my journey. Ida had been defeated, that was obvious. But they would expect she had been destroyed. How would I explain I had made her a part of me again? They would see only evil when they looked at me, Ida staring out through my eyes.

By the time I dismounted, my hands were trembling so hard, I could barely hold the reins. I led the horse into the stable and busied myself with rubbing her down and filling the grain and water bins. I knew well enough what Papa would say if he discovered I had gone inside without tending to my horse.
 

I approached the lodge, my heart pounding. Never before had I been nervous about entering my own home. Ivy was creeping up over the grey stone again now that the frosts had passed but otherwise the lodge looked the same as ever, from the outside at least.

As I reached the front door, I hesitated. What if it was locked? Should I knock? Wait for someone to come out? There was no reason for anyone to come outside until morning.
 

I turned the knob and the door swung open with the smallest creak. A flood of warmth and
home
rushed out over me. Dinner, the smoky scent of a fireplace, a faintly astringent smell I had always associated with the house being cleaned. I was home at last. I strode in and made my way to the dining room.

Fiachra was the first to notice me standing in the doorway. He inclined his head very slightly towards me, almost a
well done
motion, and I nodded back. Next to him was Mother. She half stood as I entered and then paused with a hand held over her heart. She looked tired and worn and I regretted that I had caused her grief. Beside her sat Papa, reaching out his hand to her. He looked older than I remembered.
 

On Papa's other side was Eremon with Niamh beside him. The children were absent, likely already put to bed and watched over by a servant. Eremon's face was grave but Niamh was pale and her eyes wide. Eremon wrapped an arm around her, as if to protect her.

My eyes stung and for a moment I thought I might cry in front of all of them. Then Ida stirred. I slammed the lid back down on her box and locked away my emotions.
 

My brothers were all there, all except for Caedmon. Even Sitric, who should have been at Maker's Well. It was Eithne who was missing, her and Grainne.
 

"Where's Eithne?" I asked.
 

Mother blanched and fled the room. Papa rose but Fiachra stopped him with a hand on his arm and a few soft words. Papa slowly lowered himself to his seat while Fiachra followed after Mother.

"What happened? Where's Eithne?"

Silence stretched while my brothers all looked towards Papa. His mouth opened but nothing came out.
 

"She's gone away for a while," Eremon said finally.

Away? Eithne never went away. The look on Papa's face told me this was not the time for questions about my sister.

"Is there enough dinner for me?" I asked instead, sharpening my focus on Ida's box as she stirred again.

"Of course, son." Papa seemed relieved that this at least was a question he could answer. "Come, sit."

There were several spare chairs and I chose one next to Marrec. He said nothing, only passed me a bowl of new potatoes. I never expected him to say much and it was comforting to find that Marrec, at least, was the same as ever.

Someone handed me a platter of mutton and I served myself a large portion. The meal tasted exactly as it always had. The meat was juicy, the vegetables crisp and fresh; a far better meal than I had eaten for weeks.
 

There was silence at the table as we ate. Neither Mother nor Fiachra returned and Papa merely picked at his meal. My stomach clenched and my appetite fled. I caught the eye of Sitric, who sat opposite me.

"How is your business?" I asked.

He flinched and almost dropped his mug. "It's… fine," he said and swiftly crammed a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

As I looked around the table from brother to brother, they all avoided my eyes, and I finally realised what was wrong. They were scared of me. Scared that whatever had happened to Papa's brothers would happen to them too. I pushed away my half-eaten meal and stood, almost knocking over the chair in my haste.

"I'm going to get some sleep," I muttered.

My bedchamber looked the same as ever, a little dustier perhaps and somewhat musty. I flung open the window and leaned out, taking a deep breath of the evening air. The sun had fully set now and everything was shadows and darkness. Nobody had asked about my journey but perhaps Fiachra had already told them.

I took another deep breath of cold air and the faint scent of fire tingled in my nose. The moon was full, shining white and cold. Far beneath my second floor window was hard earth, grassy but devoid of rock or fence. I leaned out a little further. Would I die if I fell from this height?

A knock at the door interrupted my morose thoughts just as Ida roused. Fiachra didn't wait for an invitation. By the time I closed the window, he leaned against the wall.
 

"They're afraid of me, aren't they?" Bitterness edged my voice.

He met my eyes evenly. "They fear what they don't understand."

"I'm still me. This has always been a part of me. They just didn't know before."

"You need to show them."

"Haven't I already done enough?" I disliked the whine in my voice but was too tired to conceal it.

"In a way, you've done too much. And they fear what else you can do."

"Can she hear everything I say?"

"Does it make any difference?"

"I suppose not. Where is Eithne? And Grainne?"

"Eithne has her own destiny to fulfil. And she has gone to do it. Grainne too has her fate. They are together and, so far, they are safe enough."

"But where are they?"

He didn't look away but I knew he wouldn't tell me.

"Is there any way to get rid of her?" Perhaps speaking Ida's name would have no effect but there was a chance, a small one, that it might give her strength. I would never again speak her name.

"In truth, Diarmuid, I don't know."

How did he trap me in here? I am stronger than he, yet here I am. Is this to be my world now? Confined to a plain wooden box somewhere inside Diarmuid's mind? I cannot survive like this. Not after I have become accustomed to the smells and sounds and sensations of the world outside. In here I can feel nothing. Not the gentle kiss of the breeze in my hair or the warmth of the sun on my arms. Not the crunch of ice under my feet or the wetness of water against my skin.

I am strangely weakened. I used so much energy to fight him, it seems there is nothing left. I am smaller, shrivelled, drained.

Before, I could roam his mind. Explore his thoughts and feelings. Now the box in which he has contained me blocks almost everything. I can still, if I concentrate, hear his thoughts, feel his emotions. But it is muted, distant, and it takes all of my energy.

Time passes. Or perhaps it doesn't. I sleep or maybe I stop existing for a while. When a little strength returns, I try to claw my way out of the box. But he too has grown stronger and he holds the lid down with a strength I can't yet match.

So I am trapped. But I will bide my time and conserve my strength. When I am stronger, I will escape again. And this time I will destroy him before he can contain me again.

Over the next moon I found it difficult to fit back into my old life. Mother tried to pretend she wasn't afraid and my brothers grew more relaxed around me. I took long walks across Silver Downs, trying not to think about Bramble's absence, and spent my days learning how to function while still keeping Ida's box securely closed. I could finally sleep for a couple of hours at a time, although it was always a restless sleep and I came awake with a start every time, heart pounding as I wondered whether Ida had escaped while I slept. I didn't tell any tales, didn't even let myself think any.
 

In the late afternoons, I sat in Eithne's herb garden as the sun slipped behind the tree-shrouded horizon. Blooming shrubs filled the air with sweet fragrance and often a lone warbler continued to sing long after the rest of his flock had bedded down for the night.
 

Lost in my thoughts one afternoon, I didn't notice Papa until he sat beside me on the wooden bench. I said nothing and it was some time before he cleared his throat.

"You've had a difficult time, son," he said.
 

"I did what I had to."

Papa stared down at his hands and I waited.

"We hoped not to have a seventh son. You were unexpected. Agata was taking herbs to prevent a pregnancy."
 

I nodded, biting my tongue. There was so much I desperately wanted to ask.

"I didn't intend to pass on this curse." His voice broke a little.

"It's not a curse," I said. "It is what it is."

"As soon as I realised what I could do, I stopped telling tales. I've never told another since."

"Titania?" I asked.

He nodded, meeting my gaze only briefly.

"Why didn't you tell me? If I had known, I could have been prepared. I would have been more careful." Anger began to roll inside of me and Ida stirred. I breathed deeply to calm myself and she subsided again.

Papa kept his gazed fixed on his weathered hands and sighed heavily. "I tried, once, but you wouldn't listen."

"You should have tried harder."

"I know." A long pause. "At first, we thought… We thought that if we said nothing, if we let you determine your own future, perhaps you would choose a different path. You might have been a scribe like Sitric, or a farmer, or a craftsman. We hoped…
I
hoped the tales might not sing to your blood the way they do to mine."