Jove and the Sea People

Jove and the Sea People

Henry Hallan

Copyright Henry Hallan 2014

Published by Leabhar Cnoc Mhuilinn at Smashwords

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It is only published because it is required to distribute the ePub version.

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblence to real persons, places and events is coincidental.

The right of Henry Hallan to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or photocopying, or otherwise transmitted without written permission of the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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http://www.henryhallan.me

Cover art by Linda R. James.

Chapter 1

Facing Fears

Méar?

He quickly checked his desk, but Ceann was safely in his bag. Then he turned to see her. Geanúile, he breathed.

She came into his room and quietly closed the door behind her. She opened the chest in the corner, then came over to his desk. As she leaned over him, his nostrils were filled with the perfume of roses and, further back, her own faint but powerful scent. The top three toggles of her dress were loose and he could see...

As she stood up, he noticed what she had in her hands. Nobody touches my ... he began.

Hush, she told him. I’m not going to do Ceann any harm. She gently placed the bag in the chest, then lowered the heavy lid. She sat on his bed. Well, husband? she asked. Are you going to sit there all night?

* * *

That’s not just game, Owlfoot whispered.

How do you know? Boartusk whispered back.

Boartusk was their village chieftain, a tall, broad-shouldered man with the darkest green skin among them. Scars covered his arms where he had fought against his fellow villagers, for his position was maintained by being willing to fight and win.

Owlfoot was an older man, the oldest of their hunters. His black hair was streaked with grey and his face was wrinkled and lined around his eyes and mouth. Only three of his canines showed through his lips: the other was lost many years ago. He had even more scars on his arms and shoulders than Boartusk had, but he was no longer interested in fighting. Instead he was teaching Boartusk how to be a better tracker.

If this isn’t game, Boartusk thought, then better to keep looking. He needed to bring home something big, something that could feed everyone.

Do you know any game that has a pelt the colour of the sky? Owlfoot asked.

Perhaps one of the noisy birds that lives in the top of the trees?

And when were they as big as this?

Then what is it?

Remember what happened to the Blue Peak People?

Is that..?

Keep your voice down! If he hears us...

What do we do?

One of us tracks him. The other goes back and gets the village.

How many?

All of them, of course.

Boartusk knew that he was the faster of foot and Owlfoot was the better tracker. He also knew that if the blue-robe heard him, then he would be dead. But the most important thing was that if he came back to the village, leaving Owlfoot to do the brave deeds, then it would cost him face. He knew he would rather be dead than no longer chieftain.

You go, he whispered. Get them all.

Owlfoot slipped away among the trees.

Boartusk thought of how there would be plenty of meat on a fat, juicy blue-robe. Blue-robes ate well. And besides, he imagined how his favourite wife would look wearing a turquoise blue cloak.

* * *

Luchóg woke up. He hadn’t had much wine last night but he still had an aching behind his eyes. He turned over to breathe in Geana’s scent. But Geana’s scent was only faint, overpowered by the perfume of honeysuckle and Lady Caora, and the bed was cold.

The stones of the floor were cold too and the fire had all-but gone out. As he blew on the embers Luchóg could taste the wine in his breath. He piled some twigs on to the fire and watched for a few minutes to see that it would not go out. Then he put on boots and a sheepskin before he set off to look for them.

In the commons old Beatha regarded him with a suspicious eye. What time did they get back? Luchóg asked.

Lady Caora got back after midnight.

And Geana?

Nobody saw her, Beatha smiled. She probably found some handsome, virile man.

Luchóg turned away. He checked the Academy: Geana was not there, but her class for the morning was waiting for her to open up. He couldn’t find her without either Lady Caora or another blue-robe. As he was walking up the river he wondered what life would be like serving Lady Caora without Geana in charge. He was sure he would go back to being a slave. He found Lady Caora sitting on the rocks overlooking the cataract, a mug in her hand.

My lady? asked Luchóg.

What is it? Caora was drinking her breakfast and preferred to be left alone. She looked down and saw the concern on Luchóg’s face. Did they have a visitor? What is it, Luchóg?

People are looking for Geana, my lady.

Which people?

She is supposed to be teaching, my lady.

Which class is it this time?

It is the young ones, my lady.

How many?

Forty or more.

Caora drained her mug and sighed her Immortal Breath. Very well, she told Luchóg, I will teach them. I can teach the Letters Song, at least.

You know the Letters Song, my lady?

"I wrote the Letters Song. How else did you think I would learn?"

I see. Luchóg hesitated, knowing he was dismissed but still reluctant to go. My lady?

What is it now, Luchóg?

Where is Geana?

How should I know? I haven’t seen her. Caora ignored the look of concern on his face. She was sure Geana was able to look after herself and it would not do to worry about it too much, if she was going to face forty or more children. She got up and Luchóg followed her as she walked back to the village.

She’s not come back, my lady. How long should we leave it before..?

Luchóg, stop it. I will choose when to worry. Until then, be quiet.

As you wish, my lady, Luchóg reluctantly conceded.

They reached the Academy. Outside parents and children milled around. Follow me, she called. I will teach this morning.

Where is Mistress Geana? one young voice called out.

I don’t know, Caora snapped. Geana goes where Geana wants to go and returns when she wishes. Not before.

* * *

Roly looked at her son, playing with the other children. He had a large stick which he was whirling around his head. The others gathered around him, the boys trying to duck and dive to get close enough to him to take it. One enterprising boy ran in behind the stick as it swung, but he swooped it around and caught the lad just above the eyes. The boy fell backwards into the dirt, mud and leaves sticking to his green skin.

The boy did not get up and Roly smiled with pride at her son. He was so like his father. She imagined how it would be when he grew up: how she would go from being wife of a chieftain to mother of a chieftain.

A scout ran into their encampment. He was Owlfoot, known as one of the best hunters in the village. He had left that evening with Roly’s man. What was he doing back alone?

I need all the hunters, Owlfoot called. We have the fattest, tastiest game, but it will need all of ye to catch it.

What is it? one of the hunters called as they collected their weapons.

What is the juciest game? And the most deadly? He looked around and saw that they didn’t understand.

Tell us then, old man.

It’s a blue-robe, of course. A girl, a fresh one. She is alone, ready for the pot.

The hunters gathered. Roly saw that some of the younger ones were scared, but they covered their fear with bravado.

You be sure to bring my man back safely, Owlfoot, Roly called.

Oh, I will, granddaughter, Owlfoot called back as he led them away.

* * *

Between their respect for Owlfoot’s wisdom, their fear of Boartusk’s fists and their awareness of the deadliness of their quarry, the hunters were remarkably disciplined. Owlfoot sent out scouts to track her in the woods and Boartusk took the others ahead to find a good spot to wait. They chose a place where a big tree had fallen, smashing smaller trees down and leaving a tangle of trunks and branches, each big enough to hide three or more hunters.

They heard Owlfoot’s bird-call and they hid themselves as quickly as they could.

The blue-cloaked girl stepped into the clearing, the chieftain shouted and they fell upon her. The arrows glanced off her armour, no more than a distraction. Boartusk ran into her, headlong. He felt her hand grasp at his face, felt and heard the blades on the tips of her gauntlets scrape against his cheekbone. But he bore her down with his weight. She fell hard, backwards over a log. Other hands pulled away her helmet, and stuffed leaves and moss into her mouth. He stood up and looked down at her as they stripped her armour from her and tied her up. He saw the blood drip from his own head where she had cut him and splash on her naked skin.

This is it, lads, he told them. We’ve got her. The Lords of Slime will reward us for this one.

Can we have a bit of fun with her first?

Oh, I am going to start the games, he replied, his palm pressed to his cheek. I’m going to make her bleed. Blood for blood.

Isn’t she dangerous?

Look at her. Her sword has no jewel on it. She is not one of them, one of the goddesses. She’s just a young one.

So what were the Blue Peak People saying?

Boartusk put on a mocking voice. It sounded to me something like ‘We’re scared, we’re scared! It’s a scary blue-robe and we’re scared!’

They said she wiped half of them out.

Look at her. Is she going to wipe anyone out? He laughed and they laughed with him. He was reaching under his loincloth when he heard a noise: the metallic noise of a sword being drawn.

He looked around. Standing under the trees at the edge of the clearing he saw another blue-robe: a woman again but as tall as he was. This one had her sword in her hand. The sword had three gold bands and the jewel at the hilt.

She’s not one of the goddesses, you son of mud, she said. But I am.

Run for it, lads, he shouted.

Run! Run! the goddess shouted after them. Waste yer last breaths screaming like children! I’m coming for ye anyway!

When they were gone the taller blue-robe came over, clambering over logs where they blocked her path. She untied the rag and her companion spat out leaves.

"Cac us fuil she spluttered. I am so glad to see you, Lady Eibheara." She stood up and, as she stood, her armour appeared on her body.

You’re Abhainne’s friend, aren’t you?

I’m Spéire, my lady, she replied.

Where is your Patrol?

I’m not with a Patrol, my lady.

Does the Watch Leader know?

I’ve told them.

Good. If you tell them ... well, that is how the City learns more about the deeper paths.

Certainly, my lady. She looked around her. Do we follow those things that attacked me?

Of course we do. They attacked a blue-robe. We must teach them the error of their ways.

A lesson they’ll never forget, my lady?

A lesson they’ll never remember. The dead know nothing, Spéire.

* * *

The birds were calling, and Méar lay there a moment with his eyes closed. Had he been dreaming of Geanúile? But he could still smell roses. He rolled over a little and reached out. His fingers touched soft skin and he opened his eyes.

Eibheara smiled at him. The smile seemed to bear no malice, but there was something about her confidence that undermined his own.

How do you know what she looks and sounds like? he asked. Did someone tell you about ...?

Mentor, she said, You must have realised by now that there are two of me.

I...

Everyone says it. They say I am crazy. You know it is true.

Méar wished he could call out. He remembered that Eibheara had killed her servant for no reason, only last night. He felt her Breath as she smiled over at him and he wondered what would happen if she were to attack him. His fingers felt the Key of Creation.

There is no reason to be afraid, Mentor, she told him. I know that one of me is violent and unpredictable, but it is her, not me. I know love: a lesson she has yet to learn. And neither of us could hurt you. We are both shaped by Initiation, Mentor. She reached out and stroked his cheek. We want what is best for you. She gets confused about what is best for you, but I know better.

You seem to know a lot, Eibheara. Has Cathúa spoken to you?

Mentor, I am a seer. Feel my Breath: I am much stronger than the other me. I have seen what the real Geanúile was like. I know she was much more jealous and possessive than I play her, too. When you, Ceann and Geanúile were peasants, ye had no control over yere fate, but ye could pretend to own one another. Today you are the Mentor and you cannot pretend to own anyone. You can let them be free to love you, and give them your trust, or you can destroy them with your jealousy. Your habits are not suited to the power you possess.

Are you calling me a peasant, Eibheara? You dare to..?

I dare many things, Mentor. And what I am telling you is true. Just listen to yourself and you will hear it. You are trying to control me. You could try and control the other Eibheara, battle with her stubbornness, but me you can never own. You can choose to share some of your time with me, or you can choose not to. But that is all.

You could Fall so quickly, Eibheara.

I could. But I won’t. And Méar, I may be the first of us to become strong enough to stand up to you, but I won’t be the last. You can feel my Breath. You can feel that I am no longer your servant. Others of us will learn this strength and you will find yourself surrounded by people you fear. What then? Will you still try to possess them?

He sighed. Very well, Eibheara. What do you want? Rank? If you can be consistently this Eibheara, you will be the highest Ranked on the Hill, you know.

I know. But I won’t be consistently this Eibheara, not for a while yet. What I want is for you to change. You need to stop being jealous of those you love. You need to stop searching for evidence that they are plotting your betrayal and start trusting that the Initiation works. You need to stop listening to Ceann and start listening to Eala.

How do you know so much about Ceann?

I am a seer, Mentor. I know everything. But don’t worry, I don’t tell anyone what I see. Not even myself. But let me show you how much I know about Ceann. Eibheara smiled at him and, for a moment, he almost trusted her. Then she said Words.

* * *

The Favourites were sitting in the garden while the servants brought them breakfast. Eala and Cathúa were sitting outside the library, Innealta was by the fountain. Eala knew she was wondering where Aclaí was and when he would return. Toirneach was asking the servants to bring more fruit. Liús and Éise had not emerged, but everyone could hear that they were awake.

The change was sudden. The first thing Eala saw was Rónmór drop his mug. The brown liquid splashed across the stone, steaming slightly as it spread out. He stood with his mouth open and Eala tried to read that expression. Then he turned and ran through the gateway to the Court of the Immortals and away down the Hill, as fast as his legs would carry him. As he receded, they could see that he had found his armour on his Silver Cord.

Eala turned to the others, expecting some remark about Rónmór’s strange behaviour. But Toirneach was already leaving and, as she watched, Innealta found her sword on her Silver Cord, and grasped the hilt. Innealta was pale and scared.

From Éise’s room she could still hear voices, but the sounds had changed. Eala was not sure if she could hear fear or grief. She looked over at Cathúa.

What happened, Favourite? Cathúa asked.

I am not sure, my lady, Eala replied, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. I feel strange. Do you?

Cathúa frowned. There is ... something different. I think ... it’s probably my imagination, Favourite. Sometimes people get funny moods, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the chemicals in our brain.

Eala was reasonably sure that it was not her imagination, but she did not know what had happened. She felt suddenly very alone, even with Cathúa sitting next to her, as if the two of them were not sitting beside each other, but a thousand days’ walk apart. For one moment she saw Cathúa not as a person, but as a blob of meat, inflating and deflating as air flowed in and out, and throbbing here and there with the spasms of an internal organ. She knew that the internal organ would not spasm forever and then the meat sitting beside her would grow cold and decompose.

She knew she was also a blob of meat, as transient and fragile as the one she observed.

Cathúa stared at Eala and she watched as the muscles in her face arranged themselves. The muscles were semaphoring to her and she knew that the message was one of confusion. But she couldn’t think of any way to explain.

* * *

Roly was leading the other women in building up the fire-pit, knowing that if their menfolk arrived with fresh meat they would be expected to cook. Some of the other women were joking that they would wait to have some fun before they cooked their meat. But they helped build the fire anyway.

It was Ratmeat who ran into the village.

There was another blue-robe, he screamed. Run and hide, before they get here. He didn’t wait to see if they would heed his warning. He just ran on.

Around her Roly saw the women gathering their children and running away into the Forest around their encampment. She looked around for her lad, but she couldn’t see him.

Come on, she called out, we have to get going! Now! There was no reply. Right now! Right now or I’ll tell your father when he gets back! She knew that Boartusk would be already dead, but she hoped her boy wouldn’t know that.

She heard screams in the distance and she smelt smoke. Then she saw a blue-robe running among the skin tents of their encampment. She heard commotion behind her and, looking over her shoulder, she saw another, shorter one.

Then the taller one stumbled and she heard a woman’s voice curse. The sword swung and she turned and ran on.

Roly ran between the tents, crouching, wondering what had happened. From behind her she felt a warm gust of air as the tents were illuminated by fire. She felt it on her back. She rounded the tent and saw the stick on the ground. Two more steps and she saw him. The sword had almost cut him in half.

Oh my baby! she screamed. She held him to her and felt his life-blood run down over her belly as the tears ran over her face. In front of her she saw how the fire danced higher than the trees. She saw the blue-robes running between the tents, swords swinging. Then the tall one saw her. She pointed her sword, there was a bright green flash and...

* * *

In the Mentor’s room, Eibheara saw him curl up and she sat on the bed beside him. She put her hand on his shoulder and she bent down to kiss his hair.

You’re scared now, aren’t you? she whispered.

What did you do? he asked.

I have devised Words that cut us off from communication with the Manifestations of Great Principles.

Why bother doing such a thing? he asked. His voice was shaking and she stroked his shoulder, like a mother would.

It turns out that we are influenced by certain Great Principles, all the time. The Words cut us off from that influence and we can feel what it is like to be unaffected.

I ... I admit it, Eibheara, I am scared. But inducing fear using Words is not a hard thing to do.

It is not fear, Méar, it is loneliness. We are immersed in the aura of these Great Principles and we do not realise what effect they are having on us until they stop. Then we feel like a fish which has suddenly discovered what water is, when it is flopping around on the bottom of the fisherman’s boat.

I don’t like it. Make it stop.

First try and communicate with Ceann.

Why?

To show yourself what happens.

The dead know nothing, Eibheara. You were taught that centuries ago.

So I was, Mentor. Were you?

These Words of yours, Eibheara? Are they in Cathúa’s library?

Not yet. When I have finished working on them I will put them in the library.

Be sure that you do.

Méar, listen to me. You can still talk to me, but you can’t speak to Ceann. He is not what you think he is.

What do I think he is?

You think he is your brother, the only true friend you have ever had.

And what is he?

He is a Manifestation of one of the Great Principles, Méar. He is an elemental of...

The Mentor sat up, suddenly, and looked Eibheara in the eye. What alternative are you offering me? To live with this loneliness?

Eibheara tried to keep the frustration off her face. There is Eala...

How well do you think you actually know Eala?

I know her very well. She...

You hate her, Eibheara.

The other me hates her.

And can you explain that bit to me?

I cannot. I am Forbidden.

Who forbids you, that you won’t obey me?

There is only one man who can Forbid me, Mentor.

Enough, he said. Then he said the Words that End.

Eibheara got up and he watched as she closed the door behind her.

Then he got off the bed and went over to the chest. He opened it and took out the bag.

Ceann, they’ve all gone crazy. What is happening to them?

* * *

They held one another as the little shocks in their bodies subsided. Spéire could not have imagined that anyone would find anything about the scene sexy, surrounded by the burning tents and bodies of these savage, green creatures. But Lady Eibheara’s hands on her had been so anxious, so demanding, so driven by animal passion. Spéire had lived on the Hill long enough not to even consider refusing the attentions of an Immortal. By the time she had remembered that she didn’t care what Eibheara might have to offer any more, she was too aroused to want her to stop.

They lay in each other’s arms, surrounded by the fallen corpses of their enemies.

My lady, Spéire whispered, You are Marching too, aren’t you?

Eibheara sighed. I am, she admitted.

May I ..? I mean, why? You are a favourite and everything, why would you..?

It is not because I have stopped loving life, Spéire. Immortals who hate their lives don’t live long anyway. I am going for the good of the City.

How will it benefit the City? You are one of the most powerful Immortals, my lady. The Immortals are the strength of the City, my lady.

Eibheara sat up. Do you remember the battle on the Blue Peaks?

Spéire knew there was only one way she would forget that. And she rememebered Noíníne and wondered that so much had gone by in six years. I remember it, my lady.

Do you remember your friend Eala and how she removed the Orphans?

I heard stories about that, my lady.

Did you know that the City has enemies?

You have told us that the City has enemies many times, my lady. You call them Infiltrators.

I set up the Orphans, Spéire. The Orphans were intended to make sure that there was someone to resist them.

Not all of the Orphans left the City, Lady Eibheara. Lady Blátha...

I found my enemy, Spéire. I know who leads the Infiltrators.

Then why March, my lady? Is there nobody who can help..?

It’s me.

I don’t understand.

Remember the battle? What did they say about me?

A lot of stuff that didn’t happen, my lady. They said you rescued the favourites. They said that...

How do you know it didn’t happen?

I was by your side for the whole battle, my lady.

Cathúa told me the things she saw me do. She saw me use Words of the highest Rank, over and over. I can manage to use the Words that Stop Time or the Words that Fold Space once and then I need to rest, because my Breath is exhausted. But she saw me use them many times, more than anyone else in the City can. More than Aclaí, probably more than the Mentor himself.

How could Lady Cathúa be so mistaken?

What if she wasn’t mistaken, Spéire? What if I am two people? What if one of us led the Orphans and one led the Infiltrators? People tell me about the things I have done, or the things I have said, and I don’t remember any of it. I see them telling me about the things I have done, even with the Words of Truthful Aura, and I don’t remember. And yesterday I found a note in my room, from the leader of the Infiltrators, taunting me.

Spéire looked at Eibheara’s face. You recognised the handwriting, my lady?

I used the Words of Identification. I put all my Breath behind the Words of Identification. I even called upon the Key of Creation. I wrote that note.

But you already know that the person pretending to be you is the highest Rank on the Hill, my lady.

She knows the same Arts as I do. Even the Forbidden Art I devised. She knows the name I call myself, that I never told anyone else. She knows all my skills, all my capabilities -- and all my weaknesses.

How could you be two people, my lady?

I am Eighteenth Rank, Spéire, and she is certainly more powerful than me. I can use the Words of Twinning and, even if they only last a short time for me, they will last longer for her.

So why March?

If one of the Twins created by the Words of Twinning is killed, they both die. If I die, she dies -- and I deprive the Infiltrators of their leader. Eala sent home all the rest of the Infiltrators, but not all of the Orphans. If the last of the Infiltrators dies then I will have won.

Isn’t that a bit ... drastic?

What choice do I have?

Why not seek help?"

Who can help me? Who will believe me? Spéire saw the muscles around Eibheara’s jaw tense. If they believe me, why would they ever trust me again?

The Mind Craft could help, I am sure.

"You expect me to get help from her?"

My lady, Eala is a good person.

I would never let her help me. I don’t need her pity.

Spéire knew there was no point in arguing. My lady, Eala is not the only person who knows the Mind Craft.

I see. Why would I trust any of them?

If they were Marching, my lady, you wouldn’t need to. They would take your secrets with them.

I see.

My lady, if you let me try you have nothing to lose. If I can help you to be one person, not two, then you can return to the City. If not, well, we’re Marching, aren’t we?

What if the one person is my enemy, not me?

My lady, I know about you, I know the good you are trying to do.

How?

Abhainne is my friend, my lady. We don’t just listen to Lady Eala in the Mind Craft. Will you let me help you to overcome this other Lady Eibheara?

Very well.

Spéire put her arms around Eibheara. Eibheara was tense a moment, then she relaxed and her arms came up to hold Spéire.

You know, I haven’t told anyone about this.

I know, my lady. But troubles are easier when they are shared.

"Did she teach you that?"

Eala didn’t have to. I knew it before I came to the City, my lady.

* * *

Aclaí climbed out of the rhododendron by the fountain and straightened up. He said the Words of Freshness to take the mud of the Forest off his boots and he opened his door and went in.

Eibheara was sitting on his bed. He sighed and sat beside her. She kicked off her sandals and climbed on to the bed behind him. Her strong hands found the muscles on the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck. She carefully kneaded out the knots.

What has got into you, Eibheara? he asked her. You’re being nice. What do you want?

Aclaí, I’m not going to have long to explain this. Do you know that I seem to be two people?

I ... it’s true.

I know it’s true. There’s me and her.

Aclaí wondered if he should have his armour on. But he had a mirror in his room and he could see Eibheara’s hands. He had survived many duels and been trained by Foscúil: he was confident he could react before she could find a blade on her Silver Cord.

Don’t be afraid, my oldest friend, she whispered to him. I’m not going to hurt you. I am the sane one; she is the crazy one.

What happened yesterday, then?

She found out about me. I left her a note.

Why?

I wanted to have the City to myself for a few days. She’s gone off in a magnificent sulk.

What is she hoping to achieve?

She has no idea. She’s just angry. You know, the usual nonsense: ‘nobody cares, I’ll show them,’and so on.

Is she ..? Aclaí seemed to realise the absurdity of having this conversation with Eibheara.

She will be fine, Eibheara said. I know you love us, but don’t be concerned for her. Her sulk will clear her head and she will return in a few days.

Then how do you know that..? and Aclaí saw the expression on Eibheara’s face.

I know everything about her.

How do I trust you?

I could say something clever. But I have something to say to you and I want you to believe me.

All right, what do you have to say to me?

The Mentor watches a lot of things. He uses the mirror in his room to scry on his favourites.

I guessed that.

Well, Aclaí my love, he also puts the worst interpretation on what he sees.

I guessed that too.

So what do you think he thinks when he sees you flirting with Eala’s sister?

How do you..?

I am a seer, Aclaí. I know everything worth knowing. You need to be very careful, especially around Eala and her sister. The Mentor is convinced that you are sleeping with Eala already. It is only because he is so afraid of you and so willing to forgive her that the two of ye have not Fallen. You need to be very careful.

What do you think I should do to be careful?

There are two alternatives. One is to behave absolutely correctly, especially with those twins. You should imagine that he is watching everything and that someone is telling him the worst possible interpretation for what he sees.

Toirneach?