Sevenwaters: Seer Of Sevenwaters Part 27

"Did you hear that?" I whispered, not believing it. "Shh! There it is again."

A cry. Undoubtedly, an answering call from somewhere below us in the ravine.

"Here! We're here!"

I stood frozen. His voice. Felix's voice. I must be dreaming.

"Down here!"

The rescue party muttered various oaths, then moved into orderly activity, retrieving ropes from bundles, slinging bags on their backs, gathering what I now saw were the parts of a stretcher on which an injured man might be carried. I couldn't move. I could hardly trust myself to think. It couldn't be. Grief and loss had finally sent me out of my wits. And yet . . . and yet . . .

"Sibeal," said Cathal, "was there a man among the Freyja's crew with an Armorican accent?"

Fighting the mad hope in my heart, for it was impossible, I opened my mouth to say no, only two brothers, and they were both dead. Before I could speak, another voice came. "Sigurd, is that you? Get a move on, will you? We've got three injured men here and it'll be dark soon!"

The face of every hardened warrior was instantly illuminated with a smile.

"By all that's holy," someone said, then shouted, "Gull! How in the name of the G.o.ds did you get down there? We thought you were done for!"

"Stop wasting time and get on with it, Berchan! Bring everything with you. There's an easier way out, but the two of us can't get these fellows through on our own."

My heart had stopped; or that was how it felt. "Gull!" I called, and my voice was an old woman's, cracked and tremulous. Let it be true. Let me not have heard wrong. "Is Felix there with you?"

I waited for the longest moment of my life.

"Sibeal! Sibeal, are you up there?"

The greatest gift. A gasping sob racked through me. Did not you once promise you would do anything, anything at all, if he could survive? Now, possessed by joy, I would not consider how devious the G.o.ds could be. "Felix!" I screamed, entirely heedless of my audience.

They sent the lightly built Berchan down first. A series of narrow ledges did provide a path of sorts into the chasm, though it was hardly safe even with the rope Cathal fixed at the top. When Berchan reached the others, he secured the bottom end of the rope to provide a handhold of sorts. I suspected this was mainly for my benefit. At another time I would have needed all my reserves of courage to tackle such a climb. Now, joy crowded out fear. Never mind how; never mind why. He was alive. Felix was alive. After all, the G.o.ds had smiled on us.

I climbed down with the confidence of a spider traversing a strand of filament. Sigurd was just below me, ready to arrest a fall, but I did not need him. We reached a ledge, and from the ledge an opening led into a cavern, and just inside the opening stood Felix, wet, bedraggled and beaming with delight. Behind him the shadowy s.p.a.ce was full of activity, but I had no eyes for that. I threw my arms around him, and his came around me, and the world vanished for the s.p.a.ce of a few breaths. I'm home again, I thought. Home. And even as I savored the joy of the moment I thought, This is what Svala wanted. This is what she was expecting when we reached the island. She lost the one she loved, and she thought she was coming back to him. I know how she felt on Inis Eala, as if she were so broken she could never be mended. And I know how she thought she would feel when she came to the serpent isle. She expected to feel the way I feel now: healed, whole, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with happiness.

We could not stay here forever, holding each other and getting in everyone's way. Time was running short and there were things to be done. We moved back, making way for the last men to enter the cave with the pieces for the stretcher. What had seemed a sizeable s.p.a.ce became quickly crowded.

"I am so happy to see you," Felix whispered in my ear. "My heart sings with it, Sibeal. But I must help here-as you see, we have men to bring out of this place."

"You're alive," I choked. "You're not drowned. How can that be?"

Gull was kneeling by a man who lay against the wall, covered by what looked like a big, rough blanket. The man was emaciated, his features hollowed by privation, but his eyes were bright with hope. So wasted was he that I could not guess his age-he could have been twenty or fifty. Of the other two survivors, one was very young, the other a man in his twenties. They were rake-thin, with sores on their faces and their hands and feet all cuts and grazes, but both were standing and making an attempt to greet the rescuers.

"We were carried swiftly along the bay, mostly underwater," Gull said in answer to my question. "This place is full of strange currents. When we first surfaced, Felix managed to grab hold of me, but there was no getting to sh.o.r.e. We were pulled around that curve of the bay, far beyond sight of the rest of you. The current was fierce. The strongest swimmer couldn't make headway against it. I did wonder if that thing, that creature, was somehow making it-that's a sheltered inlet, after all, not some wild river. Eventually we were washed, not onto the sh.o.r.e as we'd hoped, but into a kind of tunnel, an underground pa.s.sage. We thought we were dead all over again-it was dark and the place was half full of water. There was a ledge to one side, but we couldn't get up on it. After a while the ground rose, the water grew shallower, and we stepped out onto rocks. Since there was no going back, we went on. There was an opening or two overhead-you'll have seen what a maze of pa.s.sages this place is-so we could find our way, more or less. When we came out, here we were. These fellows thought they were seeing ghosts."

"Dagda's britches," said Cathal. "That's the least plausible story I've heard in years, Gull."

Felix was coughing. It hurt me to hear him. It took me back to those nights in the infirmary, when I lay awake listening to him struggle and begged the G.o.ds to let him live for one more day.

"Cathal," said Gull, "we must get these fellows out of here as soon as we can. I don't want them spending another night without proper attention, and I can't give them that without my healer's supplies. We can't get Thorgrim here up the ravine, but we can go out through the tunnel."

Cathal gave him a direct sort of look. "Didn't you say part of it was underwater?"

"The fellows tell me there's a big tidal flow here. Judging by what they've said, if we go soon we'll be out before it starts to rise again. I reckon it'll be knee deep at most when we get to the other end, and we should be able to make our way back to Liadan around the edge of the bay." When Cathal did not immediately reply, Gull added, "Unless you want to go back the way you came, and leave us here until tomorrow."

Felix's coughing fit had pa.s.sed. In the quiet of the cave, the wheeze of his breath was like wheat stalks rustling in the wind. Everyone could see the look on Thorgrim's face, a naked longing to be safe again, warm and dry and tended to by kindly hands.

"The creature." It was the young boy who spoke now, a lad of perhaps fifteen. "The monster. Is it still there?"

"It is, Colm," Felix said. "But these men won't run away. They'll stand and defend you if it comes again. And there's a boat waiting, a st.u.r.dy boat with a crew well able to take you home."

The boy was trying his best not to weep. His jaw trembled. "It took Artan," he said. "Before we found this place. It took Demman. It took one of the Nors.e.m.e.n. It ate them up right before our eyes."

"We know, son." Gull's voice was very quiet. "You told us. And we're here to get you away before any more are lost. Cathal, if we're doing it we need to move."

I was reminded, again, of what people said about Johnny's men: that they were the best of the best. They worked with no fuss, a.s.sembling the stretcher, moving the sick man onto it with strong but careful hands, deciding who would carry it and who would help the two men who could walk. Few words were exchanged; every man knew exactly what he was doing. I waited quietly, watching them. This small cave had been home to hunger, cold, loneliness and fear. It had seen men near death; men desperate for survival in a world turned hostile. There was no fire here. There was nothing to burn. How in the name of the G.o.ds had they survived the harsh northern nights? Where had they found hope?

I glanced around me as the men began moving through the back of the cave and into the tunnel. There was very little in the chamber. A stone with a natural depression in it might perhaps have been used to collect water. Spray from the waterfall, maybe, or rain. In a corner lay a heap of empty sh.e.l.ls; they had foraged for food, then, on the rocks nearby. Perhaps they had stolen an egg or two from the gulls' nests. If they had stayed in the cave, they would have starved. I wondered what had happened to the other man, the one who was not taken by the creature. Perhaps he had died of despair. The place stank; the men had performed all their bodily functions here, and it smelled not only of that, but of sickness and defeat. I must say a prayer as I left, or the sad shadow of its human tenants would linger on.

The stretcher-bearers had not taken the unwieldy covering that the sick Norseman, Thorgrim, had used as a blanket. It lay on the cave floor, humped in awkward folds. "Shouldn't we take that with us?" I asked Cathal. "It could keep Thorgrim warm on the way back."

"It's too big and heavy. It would take two men to carry it. We can't afford anything that will slow us down. Thorgrim will do well enough with a cloak over him." He glanced at the covering.

"Where did it come from, Donn?" Felix asked. He had his arm around young Colm's shoulders; the lad was ashen, his memories close to the surface. Getting him through the subterranean pa.s.sage would not be easy.

"Fiac found it down by the sh.o.r.e," said the third survivor. "He made us bring it up so we could keep warm. We slept under it every night. Would have died, if not for that, all of us one by one. Fiac died anyway. His dreams sent him mad. Fell down the drop." His expression was impa.s.sive, his tone flat. Perhaps he had seen so much that he was beyond feeling anything.

"Time to go, lads." Berchan nodded at Donn and the two of them headed out together. Felix followed, shepherding Colm. The last of the others went after them, leaving only Cathal and me.

"Danu, look kindly on this place," I murmured. "Accept our thanks for the shelter it provided when men were in trouble. May the breath of the G.o.ds purify it; may the soft voice of the waterfall bring peace once more. May it be cleansed of all sorrows. May this be holy ground."

The first part of the tunnel was not so bad. Light came down through c.h.i.n.ks and holes high above, showing us where to put our feet on the uneven, often slippery rock floor. The way was narrow in places and we were slowed by the stretcher, which was hard to get around corners. I could hear Felix coughing. I prayed that he might not fall sick again. For I could see a possible future that would be the stuff of a grand and tragic tale, and the thought of it chilled me to the bone.

Donn seemed in the best health of the three we had rescued. He made a resolute effort to walk without support, and managed well, though his pace was slow. Berchan stayed beside him. Felix was still with Colm. Donn was grimly silent, all his energy concentrated on moving forward. Colm was talking: a stream of words flowed from him, as if, now that the rescue party was here at last, he must release all he had held bottled within him during those long, lonely days and nights. He spoke about the monster, about seeing men die, about coming back down to the sh.o.r.e to find Freyja gone, about how Fiac's body had been wedged in a crevice further down the chasm and how they could not reach it, and how the gulls had come, and- "Shut up, Colm," grunted Donn, and, much to my relief, the boy fell silent.

The pa.s.sage began to slope gradually downward, and it grew darker. In these lower reaches there were fewer apertures up above. Perhaps, outside, the sun was already setting.

We reached the water. It stretched ahead into darkness. On the left side of the tunnel was a ledge perhaps two steps wide, at the height of a tall man's head.

"Which is it?" Cathal asked, looking at Gull. "If you're right about it being shallow all the way, wading will be easier and probably safer. But we don't want to be caught down here if the tide comes in."

"If we're going up on that ledge, we'll be leaving the stretcher behind," said one of the bearers. They had laid the sick man down at the water's edge, and were flexing their arms and rubbing their shoulders. "Thorgrim here will have to go on someone's back."

"How long have we got?" Sigurd asked. "Are you sure about the tide, Gull?"

"I'm sure. Provided we go straight through, we'll be well out the far end and up on the rocks before it reaches knee deep, even on Sibeal." Gull gave me a searching look, as if remembering belatedly that I was not one of Johnny's warriors. "All right?"

"I'm fine." If there was an edge in my voice, it was due less to the antic.i.p.ation of a wet, dark wade to a tenuous kind of safety, as to some other unease whose cause I could not quite identify. It made sense, all of it-the rescued men were weak and tired, the tunnel was the quickest way back, Gull knew the tides . . . So why did this feel so horribly wrong? "I just . . . no, it's all right, it's nothing." I could not expect these men to wait while I spent precious time going over my vague doubts and half-formed anxieties. "What is it to be, the ledge or the water?"

"The water," Cathal said. "Move steadily ahead, and don't rush it. I don't want anyone injured. We can get through." He glanced at the others. "Sigurd and Oschu, you go first." Both were tall men. "Stretcher-bearers next, and remember that you'll be carrying Thorgrim all the way through before you can put him down. Keep him out of the water; a cold bath is the last thing he needs. Felix, you look after Sibeal. Sibeal, stay close to him. Gull, you go behind them. The rest of you with Donn and Colm, and I'll come last. Ready?"

We moved on. The pa.s.sage grew darker, the water gradually deeper. I hitched up my skirt, not so much to keep it dry-it had hung in clammy folds for the best part of our journey-as to make wading easier. The ground was treacherous, and often it was only Felix's steady hand that stopped me from falling headlong. My mind began to fill with craven thoughts, thoughts unworthy of a druid, even one who had not yet made her final promise. I wish we had a lamp. What is that rustling sound? I want to go home.

"Take heart, beloved," said Felix. He spoke softly, for my ears only, but in the stillness of the underground pa.s.sage, it carried clearly.

My cheeks were hot. I had not spoken a word, but he had heard me. He had heard what I would not say: I'm scared.

I squeezed his hand. In my mind I said, I love you.

As if in response to my fear, the tunnel turned a corner and the darkness was relieved. A c.h.i.n.k high above admitted a ray of dim light, as welcome as rain after drought.

"Back up!" Sigurd's shout turned my blood to ice. We backed a few paces.

"What is it?" Cathal came past me, heading for the front of the line. I clutched Felix's hand and peered forward into the shadows. "Sigurd, what-"

A pair of great eyes gleamed ahead, familiar eyes, bright in the gloom. Behind the eyes, the monster's body filled the tunnel. There would be no going past. The eyes drew me. I saw the wild beauty of them, the myriad colors in their depths, the unshed tears of sorrow. I thought . . . I almost thought . . .

The creature opened its jaws wide. Its long white teeth caught the filtered light as it drew breath. It roared. The sound rang from every surface, powerful as thunder. I clapped my hands over my ears. Colm was crouched down in the water, his arms curled over his head, his whole body shaking. The men with the stretcher staggered in shock, almost dropping Thorgrim. The roaring went on and on. It set a vibration through every part of me. My heart raced; my head throbbed. I closed my eyes.

Nothing was right, he'd thought it was right, she came back, it should have been the way it was before, but something was gone, something was missing, and now he would weep, he would rave, he would blast his sadness into the depths of the earth until the whole island burst with it. He would destroy these outsiders, these puny creatures that dared steal her away, and brought her back incomplete . . .

There was only one thing to do. I let go of Felix's hand and moved forward. Past the stretcher-bearers and the pallid Thorgrim. Up beside Sigurd, Oschu and Cathal. I took another step.

"No, Sibeal!" hissed Cathal, grabbing my arm and holding me back. "What are you doing?"

The creature had quieted, though the roaring still rang from the rocky surfaces. Its strange eyes were fixed on me now. Deep, distant eyes. Eyes that held the stone and the sky, the wind and the waves, the lonely beauty of a far place, a fortress and refuge. Wildness. Wisdom. Eyes like Svala's.

CHAPTER 13.

*Sibeal*

Let go, Cathal," I said, as my mind put together the pieces. "If you want us to get through unharmed, let me do this."

"No, Sibeal! This is crazy!"

"Let her go, Cathal." Felix and Gull spoke with one voice.

Cathal released me, muttering an oath. I moved forward again. I looked up. I concentrated all my will on the serpent. In my mind, I formed a clear, simple message. I can help you. For in those eyes I had seen the solution. I had realized, at last, what Svala had been so desperate to tell me.

Quick as a heartbeat the creature moved, scooping me up in its forepaw and lifting me toward its face. My stomach lurched. So close! I could smell its breath. I could see the tears in its great eyes. Its skin was made up of glimmering eight-sided scales. Its claws closed around me, making a neat cage. There was a sliding sound as several knives were drawn out of their sheaths.

"Tell them no, Cathal," I called. "No weapons." My voice was weak and shaky; it would not do. I had never negotiated with a sea beast before. I hoped it would be the only time. It was not a job for a fainting, weeping girl. It was a task for a druid.

I lay down on its palm; it was cold and smooth. I slowed my breathing. In my mind, I made an image of Svala standing tall and proud on the sh.o.r.e at Inis Eala, her perfect form clad only in the gold cloak of her hair. I showed Liadan at anchor in the bay here, and our party searching across the barren landscape. I pictured Knut crouched on the sand with a rope around his ankle. A vibration pa.s.sed through the serpent's body, and there was a creak as its claws closed tighter.

But it's going to be all right. I made my inner voice calm and strong. I know what you need and I will fetch it now. I will help you. I am her friend. I made an image of Svala putting on an item of clothing, somewhere between a cloak and a gown; my imagination could take me no further.

It felt like a long time, but perhaps was not very long at all, before the creature lowered its paw with care, and opened its claws to release me into the shallow water beside Cathal. The others had retreated a short distance up the tunnel.

"Cathal," I said, "it's a skin. That thing, that blanket the men were using to keep warm, it's her skin."

"You mean-" He fell silent.

"Didn't they say one of the men found it on the sh.o.r.e after Freyja had sailed away? It's Svala's-it's what she wants. I can't believe it's taken me so long to work this out. I know dozens of selkie tales. Cathal, we must fetch it here and show him."

"Him?"

"The creature. I'm sure this is right, Cathal. If I run all the way there and back, maybe we can still get through before the water is too high. This can't wait for tomorrow."

Cathal's eyes pa.s.sed over the three survivors: Colm now huddled against Gull, sobbing with fear; Donn sheet-white in the gloom; Thorgrim lying limp as if dead on the stretcher, still held above the water by the two stalwart bearers. "You're saying the rest of us should wait here with that creature breathing in our faces while you run all the way to the cave and back again?"

"That's what I'm saying." I had not felt the will of the G.o.ds so strongly since the day when I first met Deirdre of the Forest. The runes had not lied. There was a part for me in this mission, and the time for it was now.

"Someone else should go," Cathal said. "You'll never carry that thing back on your own. Didn't you see how big it was?" We stared at each other as the implications of its size sank in.

"I'll go," Felix said, moving up beside us. "This is my mission; it is my responsibility. Sibeal and I should go together."

"No, lad." Gull spoke, the voice of experience. "If you don't want to die of an ague on the way home, you're not going anywhere. Besides, I need you here." He glanced at the weeping Colm. "Cathal, you go with Sibeal. I'll keep an eye on things at this end. We'll lift Thorgrim onto the ledge and cover him up until you get back." He eyed the creature, which was s.h.i.+fting restlessly, its gaze moving from one man to another as if making a selection. Higher up the tunnel, nearer the cave, I thought the way would be too narrow for the creature to pa.s.s. Here, it would be able to move forward and s.n.a.t.c.h a man in its jaws.

"Sibeal," Gull said, "if you've got some way of talking to our friend here, could you ask it not to eat any of us before you get back? And be quick about it, will you? If anything's calculated to give me nightmares for the rest of my life, this is surely it."

I looked into the monster's eyes and spoke the message in my mind. I am going now to fetch what you need. Do no harm while I am gone. Wait. Only wait. I am a friend. I showed him Svala embracing me, her tall form close to engulfing my far slighter one. I showed the serpent's dance of joy in the bay when we first sailed in and he saw that she had come home. I made a picture of the men waiting in the tunnel, and the serpent sleeping where he was, and Cathal and me coming back, holding the blanket-the skin-between us. Then I stepped away. The creature was quiet. He hunkered down in the shallow water, closing his eyes to slits, but behind them he was watchful.

We ran. I fixed my thoughts on the cave; I concentrated on staying on my feet. Here and there we slowed, and Cathal took my hand to help me. Once or twice we stopped to get our breath back, though Cathal did not seem in the least breathless, only rather paler than usual. We did not waste our energy in talk, for reaching the cave was only half the journey. Eventually we came under the arch and into the s.p.a.ce where the lost men had sheltered. Beyond the cave mouth the ravine was dim; it was close to dusk.

I bent to pick up the covering that had kept three men from death all through the lonely days from Freyja's departure to Liadan 's arrival.

"By the Dagda's manhood," breathed Cathal, "I think you're right. If this isn't a skin, I don't know what it is. Great G.o.ds, Sibeal, that poor creature. I wonder if Knut knew what he'd done to her."

I was examining the skin more closely. It was all in dull duns and grays, and curiously patterned in even, eight-sided shapes. And here, at the very edge, was a damaged patch, as if a clumsy hand had wielded a knife without due care. "He had an idea, at least," I said. "He cut off a strip of it and put it around his neck-see here, it's torn at this edge. He hung his lucky charm from it. Not quite the same as taking the whole skin, but enough to keep her under his control, at least while she was far away from here and could not reach the missing part of herself. No wonder she ripped the cord from his neck with such violence. Perhaps it was being close to him-the creature, I mean-that made her bold enough at last."

We regarded each other across the dimming cavern, awestruck by the strangeness of it. Then Cathal said, "You amaze me, Sibeal. You are truly remarkable. Now, how are we going to carry this?"

Inevitably, the way back was slower. We rolled the skin into a long bundle and each carried one end. I went first, setting the quickest pace I could, and Cathal came behind me. It grew darker. It grew so dark that we could not go on with any degree of safety. We came to a halt.

"Sibeal."