It was coming up for midnight. They were all crowded into Luke’s motel room, Raven included. Skye and Sherman would be here soon, too, according to Raven. Smithy wished they could just get it over and done with so they could be on their way, back to Ireland. He could feel Luke’s jumpy energy from where he sat at that small table, in front of Smithy. The spearhead and slingshot lay on the bed, wrapped in a cloth, the centre of everyone’s attention while they waited for Sherman who’d gone to fetch Skye.
Smithy leaned back against the wall, trying to relax but conscious of Saoirse beside him. He could feel the comfort of her presence even now, with the distance he’d tried to put between them. A distance that was now a joke, because since the song, since the gig, he couldn’t suppress the desire he felt or the compulsion to touch her, be with her, even though he made himself walk the other way, talk to someone else, or be in a different room. The need to refuse all promises to her, even by a gesture or a look, was still there, but it warred deeply with all the other opposing desires. And now that they had the spearhead and slingshot there were no more distractions. Back home. And though he knew it meant the next stage would begin, the preparation for battle, he still wanted to go. Find Airmed, see if she could help him so he could do his part in full. Make the swords, the spearheads and anything else he might be called upon to do.
His fingers tingled with the thought of it. He knew it was the combination of hope and all that might be possible if that hope became real that was causing it. He flexed his fingers, feeling for the first time a real desire to hold metal. To work it, to shape it. He glanced at Saoirse, suddenly alarmed at what he was feeling. She was staring at him, her eyes quizzical, cautious. Her hand moved towards him, her finger touching his and he felt the hum of that touch, a current now complete, full circle, looping through him and back towards her. He folded his hand around hers, their palms pressing against one another and a strong rush of desire washed over him with such force it caught his breath. Saoirse’s face was flushed, her mouth forming a small “o” and Smithy knew that at this moment he wanted more than his hand pressed against hers.
A knock sounded on the door. Finn moved to open it and Smithy managed to drag his attention away from Saoirse to see Skye and Sherman walk in, smiling with delight.
“You were successful?” said Skye.
Luke glared at Raven, who grinned back at him and shrugged. Raven turned to Skye and Sherman. “They were successful.” He nodded towards the bed. “They found the items they were looking for.”
“But nothing to help our cause?”
Raven shook his head. “Not really. There wasn’t a laptop. He must take it with him, or he brings home the one from his headquarters. And no files, at least none that I could see.” He looked over at Luke. “Did you see anything in the storage room?”
Luke shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just the items in the glass case.”
“What items?” asked Skye, her eyes bright. She glanced at Sherman, who shrugged.
It was the first time Smithy had noticed that Sherman’s clothes were surprisingly muted in style and colour, giving him a more sober presence. The T-shirt was dark and on inside out, but not backwards and he wore dark jeans as they were designed to be worn.
Skye moved over to the bed, ran her hand along the cloth wrapped spearhead and slingshot and looked over at Luke. “What items?”
“Sure, Raven could tell you more about that,” said Finn, his manner genial, though his eyes betrayed a caution that was mirrored in Luke’s eyes.
As if prompted by Finn’s words, Maura, who’d been standing apart from all of them over by the far wall, moved towards Raven, her expression closed. Curiosity, maybe, thought Smithy, but there was definitely something off about Maura.
Raven gave Skye a thoughtful look. “Besides the things that belonged to Luke, there were a few other items. I can tell you that they were items belonging to our people. Or at least they appeared to be.”
Skye gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” asked Skye, an edge to her tone.
Raven ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “There was a small pot and some arrowheads. The pot had markings that might be Cado. Or Mandan. The arrowheads, well they looked old but…”
“But what?” said Skye, her tone curious.
Raven shook his head. “No. They’re fake, I think. Or tourist stuff made to look authentic, old.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Luke.
Raven shrugged. “The markings on the pot weren’t quite right. The arrowheads, well they didn’t look the right shape.”
Luke nodded. “I didn’t really notice, to be honest.” He turned to Smithy. “Did you?”
Smithy shook his head. “I was more concerned with the spearhead and slingshot.”
“Did you leave the other items behind?” asked Skye, frowning.
Finn gave a wry grin. “Ah, no. Couldn’t resist them. Didn’t seem fair to leave those behind for Balor. Or anything he might consider valuable. So I took them. Put them in a bag in the car. They’re still there.”
Raven looked at him and laughed, shaking his head.
“Will I go get them?” asked Finn.
“Yeah,” said Sherman, frowning. “I wouldn’t mind a closer look.”
Skye gave Sherman a concerned look. “Is everything all right?”
Sherman considered her words. “Backwards, forwards, man. Backwards, forwards.”
Raven nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Isn’t it always?”
“Do you think we have enough evidence with the documents Smithy took photos of?” asked Skye.
Raven shrugged. “Yeah. I do. But it doesn’t hurt to have more. I’ll take it to the lawyers as soon as I can.”
“Let’s hope,” said Skye.
“Yeah,” said Raven. “Let’s hope. We still have much to do, though. Balor’s only one man. Only one company.”
Maura placed a hand on his shoulder. “But he’s very powerful. In a way you don’t realise.”
Raven looked at her. “He is?”
Maura nodded. “He is.” She gave a small laugh. “Or maybe you can imagine.” She gave him an intent look and a slow smile spread across his face.
“Are the rest of us missing something?” asked Luke, studying the two of them.
Maura raised her brow, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Ask Raven.”
A knock sounded on the door. Finn. Smithy moved to open it, Luke and the others too focused on the exchange with Raven. Finn walked in, a plastic bag in his hand. Seeing the others, his eyes narrowed.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice tense. He surveyed the room. His gaze finally resting on Maura.
“We were just asking Raven if he can imagine how powerful Balor is.”
Finn gave her a startled look. “Really?” He glanced at Luke, then Smithy and then back to Maura. Maura grinned at him and his expression darkened. “What?”
Raven laughed and all heads turned to him. He pointed to himself. “Corvid born and bred.”
Silence filled the room as everyone digested what he’d said.
“He’s Raven,” said Sherman, finally giving everyone a puzzled look. “Of course he’s corvid.”
“Raven,” said Luke flatly.
Smithy stared at Raven thoughtfully for a moment then pulled out his phone. A few minutes tapping and searching, until he found what he was looking for. He scanned the page and then raised his head.
“Raven, as in the myths of the Tlingit, Tsimshian, Haida and other peoples of Northwest America? Trickster and so much else?”
“That’s me,” said Raven, still smiling.
Luke, Smithy and Finn exchanged glances and in unison turned to Maura.
“Did you know this?” asked Luke.
Maura’s face was pale. Her eyes were a storm of emotions, anger, frustration and a little bit of joy that struck Smithy as odd. “The corvid part.”
“It’s the ‘so much else’ that interests me,” said Luke. “You’re a god?”
Sherman laughed. “Our people are different. He’s Raven. Creator, trickster, bringer of light to the people. He is who he is.”
“I’m who I am.”
“And who are you?” asked Finn, looking at Sherman.
“I’m Sherman.”
“Heyoka,” said Maura. “That’s who he is. A person who tells and shows truths.” She looked at Skye. “Am I right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Skye gave her a kind smile. “Something like that. He helps expose falsehoods and assists in healing ailing hearts and minds.”
“And you are….?” asked Luke.
“Skye.”
“Sky Woman,” said Maura. “You told me that once. Sky Woman. Haudensaunee. You said you were Haudensaunee. But what does being Sky Woman mean?”
“She’s first woman” said Sherman. “The creator of Turtle Island.”
“Like Kayla,” said Luke softly.
“Kayla?” said Skye, her eyes alight.
“An Cailleach. That’s her name in our language. She’s part of the land, she is the land, the mountains, trees, sky, water. All of it.”
Skye nodded. “Yes, maybe.”
“You’re here for the Osage then,” said Smithy.
“No,” said Luke moving forward towards Raven. He placed his hand on Raven’s shoulder. “They’re all here for a much bigger purpose. To save this land, because the land is part of the people.”
Smithy regarded Luke, seeing for the first time what Luke had become. Perhaps it had been in him all along, but it was recently with Kayla that who he fully was had come to light. Lugh the shining one, the hero warrior, leader and now wed to the land in the way it had been in the ancient past.
“The land and The People are one,” said Sherman, his tone serious. “One cannot live without the other.”
And Smithy knew. Sherman’s pronouncement was truth in a manner that made the word “people” larger than a general group of humans.
“We are all related,” said Skye.
“So we are,” said Finn carefully. “So we are.” He looked at Maura, a hint of a smile on his face. “And you knew none of this?”
She shook her head, her arms crossed defensively. “No. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything,” said Luke. “Now that we know.”
“Know?” asked Raven.
“That we can count on you to help.”
“And who are we helping?” asked Raven. “A group who were anxious to retrieve an ancient spearhead and a slingshot?” He gave Maura a pointed look, an amused expression on his face. “A group with a corvid among them?”
Luke smiled. “A group who isn’t so very different from you, in some ways. A smith of great power.”
“Two smiths,” corrected Saoirse.
“Two smiths, one who is also a poet and healer.”
“Was,” said Saoirse. “Maybe.”
Raven laughed. “Don’t you know?”
“She is,” said Smithy firmly.
“And Finn, here, is a warrior, a man of great charm and erudition.”
“He means Finn can charm the leaves off the trees with his words,” said Smithy.
“He seems a man of few words now,” said Raven.
Finn frowned at him. “My words are gold, so I don’t spread them around like dust.”
Raven and Sherman both laughed.
“I like him,” said Sherman.
“I’m not so sure he likes me, though,” said Raven.
“Don’t mind him,” said Maura. “He’s all bark, no bite.”
“Oh, I can bite,” said Finn.
“No biting now,” said Saoirse. “What all these allusions mean is that we are the ancients, the direct children of Anu, our mother.”
“Anu. That is your Sky Woman?” asked Sherman.
“Ah, maybe.”
“Trying to understand our people with the eyes of your Irish culture won’t bring true understanding,” said Raven. “So I imagine the reverse is true. It is what it is.”
“It is what it is,” said Luke.
“And the spearhead and slingshot?” asked Raven.
“Mine. Sacred, especially the spearhead. An ancient treasure of my people and one that I used in battle.”
Raven nodded. “And now?”
Luke took a deep breath. “And now we’re taking those treasures back to Ireland, across the water to fight another battle.”
Raven raised his brow. “A battle with Balor?”
Luke nodded. “Yes.”
Raven nodded. “It’s as I thought.” He looked at Skye and Sherman. “As we thought.” Raven pointed to Luke. “Balor’s one of you?”
“No,” said Luke sharply.
“He’s Fomorian,” interjected Finn. “Not one of Anu’s people.”
“Oh,” said Raven. “Is that why he feels he can kill the land? He has no connection?”
“Partly,” said Finn. “It’s complicated, but suffice to say he has no scruples on that front and we intend to stop him. Permanently.”
“And you have to stop him in a battle?” asked Raven. “Why not here?”
“I suspect you understand that it isn’t that simple in this world,” said Luke.
Raven sighed. “Yes. We certainly do. And for that reason we’re trying to pursue it through the law. A frustrating and often fruitless process.”
“And that’s one reason why we’re battling him in a place where we can end him for good,” said Finn.
“Kill him, you mean,” said Raven.
“Fine, so,” said Finn. He glanced at Luke. “Kill him.”
Raven nodded. “I’m glad we were able to help in some way. After all, you did find those documents for us.” Raven turned to Smithy. “Thanks for that.”
Smithy shrugged. “Happy that it was some help.”
Finn put the plastic bag on the bed. “Now, so. The artefacts. Do you want to have a look?”
Raven went to the bed and pulled out the items one by one. From Smithy’s perch against the wall he could see what appeared to be two elongated arrowheads dark with age and a black bowl painted with decorative white jagged lines.
“They’re not quite like anything I’ve seen,” said Raven.
“And that’s saying a lot,” said Sherman, snickering.
Raven gave a snort. Smithy drew closer, always interested in anything metal. He picked up one of the arrowheads suspiciously and realised it wasn’t an arrowhead, but a spearhead. He rubbed the metal and black paint flaked off. Underneath the paint he saw a glint of bright metal. Silver. With his nail he scraped off the rest. When most of the paint was removed, he felt the warmth of the metal in his hand. Its familiarity. He folded it in his palm and a surge of emotions rushed through him.
“Feck me,” he said. “This is mine. I made this.”
“What?” said Luke. “When?”
“A long time ago,” said Smithy.
“Oh, that narrows it down,” said Saoirse.
He gave her a weak laugh. “After the battles, after the Milesians. After we left across the water. I made it for a man who followed the old ways. Our ways. He came to me, half knowing what I was and asked for these spearheads to help keep his family safe from a new set of invaders.”
“New invaders?” asked Saoirse.
“The Normans,” said Smithy with a snort. “Or that’s what they’re labelled now.”
“How the feck did Balor end up with them?” asked Luke.
Smithy shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. The last time I saw them was the twelfth century.” He picked up the bowl. Studied it carefully, then ran his nail across a small patch underneath. Again, paint scraped away, revealing a glint of metal. His metal. He scratched a bit more, instinctively, until a larger patch was revealed. He polished it a bit with his sleeve, to give him time to process what he was seeing, feeling.
He looked up over at Saoirse, his eyes wide. She came towards him, her eyes questioning.
“What?” she said.
“This bowl. It’s one I made.”
She nodded, smiling. “You remember that, too.”
He nodded, understanding why she was encouraging. He was remembering, though she might think that it was another event in this world that he was remembering.
“It’s more than you think, Saoirse,” Smithy said. “I made this bowl for you.”
“Me?” she said, eyes wide.
“For your medicinal herbs. To blend them.”
She took the pot from his hand, her eyes narrowed. She studied it slowly, unblinking and looked up at him. “Feck.”