NINE STONES
CHARLES G. DYER
Copyright © 2013 Charles G. Dyer
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781301769834
Smashwords Edition
License
Thank you for purchasing this book. It remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About The Author
Pronunciation of elfin Names and Words
Maetharanell = May-thar-ah-nell (female)
Faelwen = Fail-wen (female)
Alyan = Ahl-yahn (male)
Aranel = Are-ahn-ell (female)
Baramaethor = Bar-ah-my-thore (male)
Daugion = Dowg-ee-on (male)
Gwedhiel = Gweh-thee-ell (female)
Nessima = Ness-ee-mah (female)
Nibenwen = Nib-en-wen (female)
Noriel = Nor-ee-ell (female)
Morwen = More-wen (female)
Thalion = Thahl-ee-on (male)
Vehiron = Vay-heer-on (male)
Arphenion = Are-fen-ee-on (male)
Aes sidhe = Ace-sheeth-uh (phrase)
Vanya = Vahn-yah (female)
Pronunciation of Irish Names
Blathnaid = Blah-nid (female)
Sinead = Shin-aid (female)
"Last night, I had that dream again, only this time I knew it for what it was…" Mae glanced at her aunt to gauge her reaction.
Flickering firelight patterned the rough dry-packed stone walls and highlighted the dimples on aunt Noriel's cheeks. Occasionally, dust or spiders drifted down from the exposed rushes of the roof covering. One of her furry white eyebrows lifted a fraction but she was accustomed to the way Mae spun out a story.
Mae continued, "It was a memory from my strange future. I can't explain how I know that. It feels as though that is what it is and the dream was still bitty. It was much more detailed than before but still incomplete."
Noriel had an aversion to long names. When she had the task of raising her sister’s child foisted on her, she dispensed with the girl’s name forthwith. Mae's given name was a typically elfin mouthful. At least Maetharanell was a name that was easily shortened.
Both Mae's parents died under mysterious circumstances several years previously. Only one elf survived that fateful expedition. When he was eventually found, he was reduced to a blithering idiot who had lost his memory.
Noriel stirred her gruel resignedly. "So, do tell dear Mae."
Mae swallowed a quick couple of mouthfuls of tasteless mush and put her spoon down. "Well, one scene repeated itself several times. There was this strangely woven basket that might have been metal. Not a very practical basket either because the bottom was rounded so that it could not stand up straight. It was upside down and I got the impression that it was part of a whole assembly. Not that I saw any other parts."
"I never saw or heard of a metal basket in all my days. You should make a sketch of what you remember," Noriel said.
"Hmm," Mae nodded, "anyway, to start with there was a wispy swirl of orange smoke and somehow there was the hint of a face. No, several faces but one stood out in particular. It was a man's face, in agony, or so it seemed. Then his face shimmered into the smoke and that then dissolved into the basket shape which then faded to black."
"And I take it that the other elements of your dream remained the same, yes?" Noriel finished her porridge.
"Yes." Mae pursed her lips. "Running, as always and not knowing who or what was chasing me. And passing through the same old strange places that I've never seen. Not that I've ever done any travelling to let me see anything more than a few local trees. I had to remake my bed because the sheets were so tangled from all the tossing and turning. What do you think it all means, Noriel?"
"Perhaps it is, as you say, a premonition of things to come. Were all the smoky faces of men and how many were there?" Noriel tucked a strand of silken white hair behind her long pointed ear.
Mae was not sure how old her aunt was. The woman had never told her and she said that she had lost count of the years. What little Mae knew about elfin ageing led her to believe that Noriel must be at least 350 years old. Mae knew that she had been a childless widow for more than 200 years because Noriel often mentioned the fact.
"I don’t know for sure how many faces I saw but they were all men. They all seemed to know me but I didn't recognise any of them." Mae sprinkled a bit of salt on her porridge.
Noriel sighed. "I could be wrong but the whole thing smacks of soul-catcher magic. You must go and see Aranel. As a soothsayer, she is well-versed in such matters and the interpretation of dreams."
"Hmm," Mae stirred the gruel. "I just wish the dreams would stop. Still it might help if I knew what it all meant." She finished her breakfast and went outside to tend to the vegetable patch.
A short while later, Noriel emerged and stalked a chicken. The scuffle and sound of flapping wings made Mae turn around. She quickly closed her eyes and blocked her ears.
Noriel sneered as she snapped the chicken's neck with a vicious twist. "Stupid girl. When will you learn that life is nothing but kill or be killed?"
The killing of warm-blooded creatures was something Mae could never bring herself to do. She was quite content to eat the meat of anything that others had killed but she did not like to witness the killing either.
Fishing was another story. It was a pastime that she thoroughly enjoyed. Somehow, the choking dying throes and death of the cold staring eyes of a fish curried no sympathy from her at all. Mae was so accomplished at catching trout with a stick, string and a lure that she was able to trade her catch. She often swapped fish for meat or skins.
***
For as long as Joe could remember, he had always been interested in rocks, their origins and occasionally their beauty. The small pebble that lay at his feet was so strange and seemingly out of place that he felt compelled to pick it up.
The moment he reached for it, a sense of dreadful misgiving overwhelmed him. Nevertheless, he crouched down and his eager fingers encircled it.
An instant passed before the shock registered but then it was too late. His fingers involuntarily closed ever tighter about the damned stone.
Although he had a reasonably high tolerance for pain, the searing agony he felt grew beyond anything he had ever experienced. Violent shaking of his arm and attempts at forcing his fingers open had no effect. Nothing he tried relieved him of the stone.
Quick as blinking, a terrible force turned every molecule in his body into an excruciating source of pain. He lost all control and every muscle cramped as he crumpled into a writhing heap on the ground.
So quick and unexpected was this onslaught that his breath froze and he could not even utter a whimper. Through eyes dimmed by pain and tears he saw that his rock-hard left hand had whitened from the force of his grip on the stone. Thick swirling smoke poured out from between his straining fingers. In short shrift, Joe was overcome by the nerve-shattering pain and mercifully lost consciousness.
Some time later, he awoke in a convulsive movement that straightened his body and forced him to draw a deep gasping breath.
The pain was gone but he felt utterly drained. He was so weak that it took considerable effort to roll over and sit up.
His left fist was still tightly clenched. Before he opened it, he knew that the stone was gone. He slowly straightened his fingers and saw a pile of sweat-sodden ash in the palm of his hand.
Staring in disbelief, he wondered what could possibly have done that. The only thing that came to mind was sodium. That burns violently in contact with water and it’s a silvery metal. The stone definitely was not metallic in appearance. Anyhow, there sure wasn’t enough moisture on my hand to warrant that reaction even if it had been sodium.
Joe brushed the ash away to examine his hand. "Jeez! What the hell is that?"
Surprisingly, none of his fingers showed any signs of being burnt. Nor did the palm of his hand, except for the mark.
The mark was unlike anything he had seen before. It was not a tattoo or even a brand. A brand or a burn of any description would have raised a pinkish welt of scar tissue. This mark was pure white and it formed a slight depression in the skin.
He still felt too queasy to move but he thought that he should phone a friend. The cell phone was dead. He sniffed it and smelled the acrid stench of burnt electrical circuitry. "Jeez, that's nice! Bloody well toasted and I nearly was too," he mumbled.
Joe looked at his watch and saw that he had lost nearly an hour to the weird experience. The cold wind blowing off the Atlantic had chilled his motionless body. He shivered, stood up slowly and carefully and stamped his feet.
The sea roared into the channel it had cut into the rocks. What Joe had come to see and study was the Bridges of Ross. There used to be three spectacular natural arched bridges over miniature fjords until erosion collapsed two of them into the sea. This wild and lonely part of the western coast of Ireland is near the tiny village of Kilbaha on the Loop Head peninsula in County Clare.
He shuddered as he trudged unsteadily back to his car. Lucky I wasn't too near the edge of the cliff when I picked up that damned stone.
The car was warm inside and he just sat staring at his marked hand in a state of shock. His analytical mind could not even begin to assess the events of the past hour. It simply made no sense at all.
"Magic!" He thumped the steering wheel. "That's got to be it. Nothing in science will ever explain this. Jeez, do I even dare to show it to anyone?" He shook his head.
He drove uncharacteristically slowly home to his cottage in the middle of the Loop Head peninsula. As usual, Bella was waiting anxiously for him to open the door.
She leapt up a licked his face while resting her great paws on his shoulders. Almost immediately, she sensed that something was wrong or different. She got down and snuffled about whimpering. He petted and hugged her. "Yeah, something very weird happened to me girl. Mind now. I could do with a strong cuppa."
The huge tawny hound knew what 'mind' meant. She stepped aside and followed him deeper into the house. Her black muzzle and intelligent brown eyes were, in Joe's opinion, her most endearing features. Her only other markings on her sleek short fur were one white sock and an irregular star on her chest.
He made tea with three times his normal helping of sugar and poured out a generous helping of milk for Bella in her large enamelled dish. No sooner had he settled in front of the fire than there was a knock on the door.
Bella barked and then fussed over the visitor as soon as she recognised who it was.
"How ya doin' Joe and ya Bella?" Delia stood smiling on the threshold. Her given name was Bedelia but she hated it and everyone used the abbreviated version.
"Ah, Delia I must say that I've been better. Come in. Will you have some tea?" Joe gestured with a welcoming wave. He sometimes wondered where she had acquired her singular speech mannerisms that took some getting used to.
His dairy farming neighbour stepped inside. "Don't mind if I do then. Now what's all this? Ya do look a bit down."
Joe put the kettle on the stove. "I went to the Bridges of Ross."
She wriggled her shoulders. "I don't like that place. I went there once as a wee thing and it scared the hell out of me." Delia helped herself to a seat on the chair she usually used. Bella nudged her knee for attention.
He set out the tea things. "Well, maybe rightly so too. I never thought anything of those sorts of superstitions until..."
"It wasn't really any stories," Delia chipped in, "I just found the place creepy. Hard to explain really but I'd never heard any tales about the place."
"Well what do you think of this?" Joe held his hand out. Bella settled down with her huge head resting on outstretched paws.
Delia crossed herself quickly. "Holy Mother of God! You've been touched by the Little People, to be sure! No wonder you look like death warmed up."
"Not the Little People, just a stone," Joe began and then blurted out the whole story about the interesting stone he had found.
The screaming kettle demanded attention. While he served tea, Delia assimilated what she had seen and heard. "Perhaps the stone was dropped by the Little People or maybe they left there deliberately."
"Why?" He sat down and warmed his hands around his mug. "From what I've ever heard about them they're elves or leprechauns and they don't usually go out of their way to contact us humans, do they?"
She sipped her tea and stared at the fire in the little cast-iron stove. He looked expectantly at her over the top of his mug. Outside, the wind was stronger and it whistled through the eaves of the entrance porch roof.
"I'd say it's best not to be tellin' too many people about this. A friend of mine might be able to cast some light on the matter. I'll tell her and see what she says. In the mean time, I'd keep my hand in my pocket if I was ya." She drank the rest of her tea.
"Funny that's what I thought on the way home. I only told you because I know that you don't gossip and you are a good friend." He added another peat briquette to the fire.
***
Aranel stroked her fingers through her long silky black hair. Her ears were longer and more sharply pointed than any other elf that Mae had seen. Her gossamer dress had an iridescence that was mesmerising. It made Mae think of a spider and the way its web ensnared its victims. The fact that Aranel's house was decorated by scores of cobwebs did not help matters.
That merely added to the discomfort Mae felt in the woman's presence. She felt as though she had bared her soul and was in danger of losing a part of her to the penetrating black eyes. From what Noriel had told her about the dreamsayer, Mae knew that the woman was at least 180 years old and she did not look a day over thirty. That in itself was a scary thought.
At last, Aranel spoke. "Tell me more. What kind of ground were you on? Was there anything behind the images you told me about? What were you wearing, eh?"
Mae fidgeted as she tried to recall more of her dream. "I don't know what I was wearing but my boots were lost."
"You have something of the Sight and these dreams are indeed a form of premonition. But there's more than that. Long ago, a party of elves went through the Portal and took with them stones. These were not just ordinary rocks of this world or even of the surface world. They were sacred magical stones that were kept in the temple. The thieves never returned and nobody knows what happened to them."
"How long ago?" Mae wondered aloud.
Aranel scowled at her. "Not that long ago. Maybe a few months but the important thing is the stones."
"I never dreamed of any stones..." Mae began. Suddenly, she sat up straight. "Wait there were stones. I was walking on pebbles that seemed to change colour."
A sharp look and a raised finger silenced her. Aranel continued, "The stones would be what made the smoke that you described. The basket could have been anything. But I suppose it might well have been a soul trap, though I cannot see how that fits in with the rest. The fact that it was empty means that you might lose something through your own carelessness. Was the man an elf?"
Mae raised her eyebrows then screwed up her eyes. "Uh, I er, now that you mention it... I don't think so. No, his ears were rounded on top."
"Hmm, it seems that a human has found one of the stones or perhaps that event is yet to happen. You need to go through the Portal and find the remaining stones and anyone who might have come into contact with them." Aranel sat back with a smug look on her face.
It took a moment for Mae to protest. "But why and how and what am I supposed to do with the stones and the people that we assume don't even know that we exist?"
Aranel sighed with a degree of exasperation as she twirled the ends of her hair between long pale fingers. "The fact that you have dreamt repeatedly about the same thing is indicative of a strong connection between you and the stones. Their magic will draw you to them. Those that have been touched will have been destroyed but their power will have been transferred to the person that touched them. You will therefore still be able to find them and they will probably be marked."
"Marked, how?" Mae blinked.
"You do know what our sacred symbols look like, don't you?" Aranel frowned. "No doubt the human," she almost spat the word, "will bear one of those and most likely it will be on the hand that dared to defile our precious heritage."
It was Mae's turn to express some aggravation. "So, what exactly are these stones? How many of them were there? Why is it so important to get them back and why were they taken into the human world in the first place?"
Aranel smirked, "If you want those sorts of answers, you had better talk to the Elders." She raised a hand. "Ah, I almost forgot. Losing your boots and being barefoot is a warning that difficulties lie ahead for you and you risk wasting time on unproductive activities. The orange colour of the smoke also suggests that there may be delays before all the events in your dream come to pass. I have interpreted your dreams and I will do no more. See the Elders."
"By Brigit and Danu, I might just do that." Mae stood to leave.
Aranel snorted, "Ha! The old goddesses never helped us when the accursed Milesians condemned us to live forever underground and it's their descendants that now foul the surface world. Do you really think that calling on them will help?"
"That's as good as blasphemy," Mae muttered under her breath as she passed through the doorway. What a witch! She took a deep breath as she hurried away. I am not looking forward to meeting with the Elders but what other choice do I have? It seems that my dreams started around the time the stones were stolen. She also thought that the interpretation was almost as confusing as the dreams.
Back at home, Noriel agreed with Mae's last thoughts. "Still, it all sounds too serious to ignore and only the Elders will be able to decide whether or not you need to follow through with Aranel's advice. I'm sure that they will be less vague and possibly..."
Mae waited a while for her aunt to continue before prompting. "Possibly what?"
Noriel sighed. "Mae my dear, it's not for me to say what the Elders might or might not do or say. Anything more that I might add could raise your hopes and I don't want you to be disappointed."
Ha! Mae snorted inwardly. Disappointment will be what I'll feel if they expect me to do as Aranel suggested.
"And another thing," Noriel said haughtily, "I'll not have you bringing shame on me. See that you behave with the proper decorum when you see the Elders."
"What's that supposed to mean?" the elf girl said with wide-open eyes.
"You must address the women as Ma'am and the men as Lord," Noriel said. "And only speak when they indicate that a reply is called for. And, show some respect. You can't wear those awful trousers, put on a decent dress and some proper shoes."
***
Although he had only seen the stone for an instant before he made the fateful decision to pick it up, the image was burned into his brain. What Joe remembered of the stone was a sort of phosphorescence that seemed to radiate the whole spectrum of colour. Not that the stone actually glowed, it was more an impression than actual colour. Nothing he had ever seen before in books or on the ground could match it.
He could not even begin to classify it despite his extensive knowledge of geology. Perhaps it was a fragment of an asteroid. But all we know about other planets and the rest of the universe suggests that it's all composed of the same elements. Humph, I suppose that the different combinations and permutations must be almost infinite. If only the darned thing hadn't gone poof when I touched it.
Joe whiled the time away by scratching through a drawer of obsolete cell phones until he found the newest. He put it on charge. "That'll have to do until my next upgrade."
He was waiting to hear from Delia who said that she had arranged a meeting with her friend and first wanted to confirm a time with him.
After what seemed like ages to him, the phone rang and he jumped up to answer it. "Yes?"
Bella hated the telephone. She always barked frantically at it until he picked up the receiver. She had chewed two of the instruments into mangled shreds before he built a special cupboard to house it out of her reach.
Delia told him that they could go immediately.
"Fine, I'll be there in a minute."
Bella was never happy when he went out. She went and sulked in her immense wicker basket that resided in a corner of the study. She tucked her great snout under the blankets and frowned accusingly at him as he said goodbye.
~##~
Mae was respectably dressed in a modest frock that would have been suitable for mourning. She almost felt that she was attending her own funeral. The Elder's chambers were not quite as intimidating as she had expected.
Simple furnishings, which were no different from those in Noriel's house, lined the walls of the reception area. The only remarkable difference was the light. Bright light seemed to emanate from an architrave that ran the length of the passage wall. She thought, That has to be magic. Oh how I wish that I could do that.
Her musings were interrupted by a deep firm voice. "Maetharanell, the Council will see you now." The dapper owner of the voice ushered her into a well-lit room with a long table and a few ancient chairs. Inkwells, quills and a scattering of leather-bound books and parchment covered the table in disarray. A jar of water and a silver goblet for each of the Elders were the only other items in the room.
Behind the table were four elves and all of them were distinguished by their white hair and lined faces. They all wore full-length long-sleeved black woollen robes. The two women did look a tad younger than the men but over four hundred years of life leaves its mark no matter how careful you are.
Mae's guide said in a low voice, "You may sit over there and wait until spoken to." She did as she was told and waited while the Elders sized her up. Suddenly, she did not feel half as nervous as she had before entering the room. Humph, I wonder if they cast a calming spell over me?
The mess of things on the table was all the room provided in the way of distractions. Mae studied each Elder briefly in turn so that it would not appear that she was staring.
One of the women spoke. "We believe that you might be able to help us, Maetharanell. The soothsayer told us of your dreams. Interesting is it not that you both have the same name? Even more so that you use the first part and she the last."
That little coincidence had not crossed Mae's mind because she hardly recognised her full name any more. She did not think that the statement warranted a response.
The Elder went on, "Nine sacred magical stones were taken through the Portal by a group of rogues who stole them from our temple. These precious stones are not of this world or even of the surface world on the other side of the Portal. Long ago, our forebears brought them with them from a world beyond the stars. Originally, there were many more. The exact number is uncertain..."
"Yes, yes," one of the male Elders slapped the table impatiently, "get on with it, Gwedhiel, or we'll be here forever."
Gwedhiel gave him a dismissive wave, "Don't be so stuffy Daugion, the poor child needs to know these things if she's to be of any use to us. Suffice to say, my dear," she said pointedly, "the stones are extremely rare. Not only that, they are indispensable to our wellbeing."
Mae said, "Pardon me Ma'am, but if they are so important, then why has no attempt been made to recover them?"
"A fair question," Gwedhiel cocked her head. "We knew that they were missing and then later discovered who took them. But, until now, we had no way of tracing their whereabouts. It would have been foolhardy to send scores of people to the surface with no direction. You have provided us with our first glimmer of hope."
Daugion butted in again. "These sacred stones represent our very essence and they are in fact the primary foci of our magic. That is to say that without them, we will no longer be able to do any magic. The fact that we still have access to magic means that most of them are still active and relatively nearby. Without magic, we will die out completely. The magic of the stones is all that keeps us alive underground. At the moment, we are living on borrowed time, on residual magic. As time goes by, the magic diminishes and it needs the stones to replenish it, soon. If we migrate to the surface, we will probably be annihilated by the humans."
The other Elders all nodded their stern agreement. After a sober pause, Gwedhiel spoke again. "We felt a loss of power when the stones were removed and subsequently there has been a further drop in power. That implies that at least one of the stones has been destroyed. Your dream was prophetic because the power loss only occurred after the dream. We suspect that a human picked up one of the stones. Although it might have been destroyed by one of the thieves."
"We have excellent hunters and trackers," Mae said. "Why were they not immediately set on the trail of the thieves?"
Gwedhiel glared at her. "In the circumstances, we will forgive your impertinence..."
"Will we now?" Daugion growled. "Cheeky little whippersnapper…"
"Yes we will." Gwedhiel shoved her elbow none too gently into his side. "The roads on the surface world are solid and no tracks are left on them. Tracking on them is impossible."
The other female Elder had a high-pitched voice. "That human must be brought to us before he realises what power he has absorbed. If he or she cannot be persuaded to come through the Portal then that person must be killed."
Her eyes grew round and Mae swallowed hard. "I am no fighter or killer. Am I to be escorted by hunters? I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for..."
"Like it or not, Mae," Daugion smiled grimly, "it will be safer for you to go alone. A priestess will instruct you and hopefully, you have some latent magical ability that will be of use. Touching the stones with bare flesh will destroy them. The priestess will teach you everything you need to know. Now go with our blessing and may the gods and goddesses see fit to guide and protect you."
"Why didn't you have guards at the temple and the Portal?" Mae said as she stood to go.
The other male Elder broke his silence and huffed, "Humph, why not indeed!"
***
The temple was a strange and wondrous place to Mae. Unlike most other elves, she had never been there. Her aunt had chosen a reclusive life after her husband died and she had forced her preferences on her charge too.
Before she stepped into the place, she was welcomed by the melodic strains of a lyre. Music was something that she had only ever heard once before. That had been a flute played by a homeward bound hunter with whom she traded fish for pelts and meat.
The instrument the priestess played was fitted with seven silver strings. The polished yew wood gleamed in the magical light that lent an eerie ambience to the nave. It had been carved in the stretched shape of a huge abalone shell but it was comfortably small enough to carry around on long journeys. Inlaid with a mosaic of lapis lazuli and mother of pearl were several sacred symbols.
Mae watched in fascination as the priestess played. The playing hand held a thin horn plectrum and alternately strummed or plucked strings. From behind and through the elliptical sound hole, the fingers of the free hand silenced the unwanted strings in the chord.
"Ooh," Mae clapped when the music stopped. "That was such a lovely sound."
"Thank you. I expect that you must be Maetharanell. I am Faelwen." The priestess set the lyre down beside her on the dark wooden bench.
The smell of incense lent a headiness to the house of worship that Mae found vaguely pleasant but disconcerting. Her parents had taught her some rudimentary aspects of religion but Noriel was a bitter widow who believed that the gods and goddesses were all dead.
Mae's contrary beliefs helped her to deal with her isolation. She had built on what she remembered from the things her father and mother had said. Her faith was therefore a somewhat distorted understanding of the gods and goddesses. She had never imagined that there was a special place dedicated to worship.
The invocations, prayers and rituals that the priestess performed puzzled her. She simply spoke her mind to the goddesses and seldom ever referred to any of the gods. Because Noriel discouraged such practices, Mae only ever communicated her thoughts to the deities when she was alone.
Faelwen's curly red tresses were streaked with grey but she still looked a lot younger than her 250 years. For most of her life, she had lived a sheltered existence as the priestess in the temple. The only worry that she had endured had come recently with the disappearance of the sacred stones.
She looked Mae up and down with a touch of envy. "Ah, what a sweet young thing you are. Let's hope that Danu and Brigit are sympathetic to our plight. Can you do any magic?"
"Just a few domestic tricks." Mae shrugged.
"Hmm, that's better than nothing." Faelwen proceeded to teach Mae all she knew about magic. Glamour and the ability to hold it under all circumstances was the one thing that she concentrated on the most.
"Glamour is useful in so many ways. It can calm any enemy, entice a lover and deceive anybody into thinking that you are something other than what you really are. It is also possible to use it to trick people into seeing some or other object that you want them to see. If you are good enough, you can use it to make yourself invisible." Faelwen held her hands up to stress the point. "Above all, you can use it as a translator. Language would be an insurmountable barrier without it."
Mae pulled away as Faelwen flicked one of her ears. "Ow! What did you do that for?"
The priestess laughed. "In the outside world, those lovely pointed ears will be a dead give-away. We could clip them or you could learn to use glamour to keep them hidden. The choice is yours and you do not have the luxury of time to decide."
The lessons were long and hard. Mae was exhausted before the end of every day. She staggered home in a daze and wondered how she would cope beyond the Portal.
Mae soon realised that glamour was more than just a spell. It was a suite of spells and using any one of those abilities was tiring. Using glamour was both physically and mentally taxing. Faelwen could use several variations at a time without any apparent ill-effects but Mae was still struggling to hold one for more than a few minutes.
Her aunt had even less ability than she had and so was unable to offer any help or advice. It was a frustrating time because she appreciated the urgency of the matter.
***
Delia's friend was a wizened crone but her voice was like silk, it flowed over Joe in a delightful lilt with a strong Gaelic accent. "So, I hear you've been crossing swords with the Wee Folk, eh?"
"If that was a battle, then they won hands down." Joe smiled.
She held out her hand. "I'm Sinead. Pleased to meet you, Joe."
Joe shook her hand and smiled. "I hope you will be."
A white eyebrow flickered as they trooped into the cottage. Delia hung back and got a rebuke for her trouble. "Come on Bedelia, you know I don't bite."
"And ya know it's Delia, ya old witch." Delia laughed.
A substantial spread of various kinds of biscuits, cup-cakes, muffins and miniature tarts lay on the table in front of the fire. An aromatic smell permeated the room and told Joe that the logs on the fire must be pine. Sinead gestured at the comfortable sofa. "Sit please and help yourselves while I pour the tea."
Joe suddenly realised how hungry he was. The ghastly experienced had drained him in more ways than one. He tucked in with gusto. "Thanks, these are delicious, Sinead."
Their hostess sat next to Joe and said, "So, let's see this hand of yours."
He held his hand up for her to see. She leaned forward to peer closely at it. "Amazing isn't it? The perfect symmetry of it and the uniformity of the depth and colour could never have been achieved by anything but magic. That symbol has deep roots too."
She sipped her tea. "It's a trefoil knot. Thor's hammer Mjollnir is said to have had one embossed on it. There's even a mathematical formula for it. It can also be seen as a three-leafed clover or a triquetra. This symbol was associated with Germanic and Norse pagan gods, including Odin."
"Do you think the Vikings had anything to do with it?" he asked.
"No, I don't think their magic was strong enough for that. We Celts have used the symbol to represent threefold divinities in both pagan and Christian contexts. The pagan Triple Goddess of Maiden, Mother and Crone or the Holy Trinity. Take your pick."
Joe swallowed a bit of blackberry muffin. "Are you saying it could be any of those?"
"Oh, there are plenty more possible interpretations or uses for this symbol. It has appeared on rune stones, crosses, coins and more. But, enough of that because it's mostly irrelevant to your mark. The Tuatha Dé Danann were vanquished by the Milesians and then by cunning, they were tricked into accepting the underground half of Ireland. Wee Folk, elves, fairies and leprechauns, call them what you will, they were a great race and they used magic. Aes Sidhe, or if you prefer, the People of the Mounds or the Fair Folk were, and might still be, elves."
Sinead sipped her tea. "The elves had a reputation for mischief and that was doubtless their way of avenging the wrong done to them by humans. I have no doubt that you picked up one of their artefacts and suffered the consequences. Whether it was a deliberate trap or accidentally dropped is of little consequence. In fact, you are lucky to be alive to tell the tale."
Joe still felt somewhat sceptical. "How can you be so sure Sinead?"
"Ha, boyo can you come up with a more plausible explanation, eh? Nothing in science will ever be able to satisfactorily hypothesise how a rock vaporised in your hand and left a mark that our latest technology would be hard-pressed to duplicate." Sinead popped a ginger biscuit into her mouth and munched contentedly on it.
Joe was more than a little disappointed. "Well then what can be done about it?"
Sinead shrugged. "Live with it. Actually, some good might come out of it. Just think of the power it took to do what it did to you. Maybe some of that power, or magic if you like, brushed off on you." She cackled and that made Delia at little edgy.
***
"The surface world is quite different from this one. For one thing, it's a lot brighter and the sun will affect you badly unless you use the glamour to protect you," Faelwen said.
"And how will I do that and what if I don't?" Mae sighed. Why me? By Brigit, I'm just a girl. Surely there must be others, older people, who are better equipped to do the job?
"The sun will burn your skin and hurt your eyes. Mae, you really must make an effort to perfect your control over glamour." Faelwen touched Mae's arm.
"Hmm, I don't think I can try any harder than I've been doing." Mae was sure that she could learn no more in the given time. "What about these stones and the basket I dreamt of?"
"Perhaps you should see where the sacred stones were kept. It might give some insight or maybe you'll recognise things from your dreams." Faelwen led Mae into a small chamber on one side of the temple.
The small room was a brightly-lit shrine. Circular walls were adorned with plaques of gold and polished silver that were covered in sacred symbols and ancient writing that Mae could not decipher. Here and there were little ornate alcoves in which stood exquisitely crafted statues of the gods and goddesses.
The beautifully mosaic-covered floor was empty except for a central pedestal and an upturned dome that had previously sat on top of the pedestal. Faelwen bowed in deference and pointed at the dome. "That might be what you saw."
The dome was not exactly the same as the metal basket of Mae's dream but it was similar. It looked like a lobster pot only it was made from a strange metal with a bluish tinge.
"I guess that it must be connected." Mae shrugged. "Maybe my earlier dreams might have been of the thieves and maybe that's why their faces seemed familiar."
Faelwen wrinkled her face with an indescribable expression. "The stones were all more or less the same size. About as big as a hen's egg and fairly nondescript except that you can see a rainbow when you look at them."
"So that's it? Is that all you can tell me? I'm supposed to go out into a strange world and find eight magical stone eggs and a foreign being that has been burnt by one of them? By Danu and Brigit, that's a tall order!" Mae stared open-mouthed at the priestess.
Faelwen nodded. "And you must not touch the stones at all. If they come into contact with any part of your flesh, they will be destroyed and they might even kill you."
She reached up to a shelf that Mae had not noticed before. "Here, these gloves will protect you when you handle the stones and you'll need a strong pouch to carry them. With practice, you should find that your glamour will improve. Good luck to you Mae and may the goddesses protect and guide you."
***
Noriel shook her head. "I am surprised that the Elders have not provided better for you. Just a shoulder bag and a pair of gloves to save our race. Ha! Why couldn't they at least give you a reliable horse?"
"The priestess said that an elfin horse would probably die out there and in any case it would draw attention to me." Mae pursed her lips. "If it's too dangerous for a horse, then what about me?"
"Well dear Mae, see that you come home to me, you hear? Stones or no, I want you back safe and sound." Noriel brushed a tear from her cheek.
Mae sighed loudly. "I'll try but as I understand it, if I don't find the stones, there may not be a home to come back to."
"Humph," Noriel huffed. "That's what they say. Maybe it's true, maybe not. I still think they could have sent someone with you. Goodbye Mae." She hugged her niece long and hard.
Mae was too keyed up to linger. The passage through the rocks leading to the Portal was steep, long, cold and damp. Runnels of slimy water meandered down the tunnel walls between patches of moss. She waved as she stepped backwards into the Portal and saw her aunt disappear behind a veil of magic.
Bright light filtered down from the mouth that opened onto a beach. She screwed her eyes up and shuddered as the cool breeze touched her skin. The sounds of gulls squawking overhead were terrifying to her. It was only when she finally ventured out into the open that she saw them for what they were and sighed with relief. The salt-laden air irritated her nose and made her sneeze.
The beach was deserted. Little waves washed quietly onto the sandy shore. Unknown to her, she had emerged on the banks of the Shannon River a few kilometres east of a little fishing village called Carrigaholt.
Looking back at the cave, it seemed impossible that she had just walked through it. Now it just looked like a shallow hollow in the cliff face, barely large enough to shelter a sheep. "Humph! Well fancy that! I hope going back is not a problem."
She adjusted her clothes and started walking. The sky was overcast but the day was brighter than any light she had ever known. The Otherworld sky was a uniform pale blue and the light was a never-changing simulation of dusk.
The wind, waves, the huge expanse of water, the clouds and the sky were all beyond her experience. The constant noise of strange sounds was both baffling and frightening.
For all her eighteen years of life, Mae had never cut her hair. The long fine auburn tresses reached her knees when loose. Now, with the wind tugging at her clothes, she was thankful that she had worn it plaited.
The skullcap that Noriel had knitted for her whilst she was studying under Faelwen was pulled down over her ears. It gave her some protection from the wind and hid her most prominent elfin features.