Frowning, Luke stared across the sitting room to the sofa where Anu was reclining. She’d collapsed after the others had left, Saoirse and Smithy to go immediately across the water and Finn and Maura to, well, do something before they went across. Or not. Finn had left on his own and Maura had shifted, to fly in the same direction. Mon had departed with a promise. A promise Luke hoped he would keep.
In the background, the radio provided a low murmur. The news was on and half of him wanted to stride over and switch it off, until its words caught his attention. As the newsreader continued, Luke’s frown deepened. Gorse fires, toxic waste in waterways, and a threatening bad storm. All seeming accidents and natural disasters, but Luke knew better.
“It’s time, Lugh,” said Anu, stirring from her place on the sofa.
“Shhh,” he said. “Get some rest.”
“You must go, now. There can be no more delay.”
He thought of Kayla above. And Bláthín and Nana in the bedroom next door. It was difficult to bring himself to leave them. It wasn’t safe. But he knew that the longer Eithne stayed locked in the shed outside it became even more dangerous for everyone. He nodded to Anu and walked past her to the stairs, ascending them quietly.
He hovered outside Bláthín’s room, looking in. She was lying there, staring up at the ceiling. He put stars up there a while ago, formed constellations and told her the stories associated with them. Back when she was less ill, before all of this had really started and he’d left for America. Now he could see her eyes roaming them, no doubt thinking of the stories, or creating new ones. Probably creating new ones.
He smiled and she looked over at him, sensing his regard. She gave him a weak nod and beamed. She was so much better now than when he’d first returned and found her unconscious. It was as if his presence gave her that bit more strength, something that gladdened him more than he could say. She was so much a part of his heart, now, and if this improvement hadn’t shown that, he didn’t know what would.
He moved inside the room, careful not to wake Nana, who had improved a little as well, but not quite as much as Bláthín. She was eating, or rather taking broth and some tea, but her waking periods were short.
Luke knelt beside Bláthín’s bed. “Are you looking at your stars?”
“I am,” she said.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Any particular ones?”
“The ones that people wish on.”
“Oh,” he said, his heart lurching just a little. “And what are you wishing for? A pony?”
She snorted. “No, why would I? I already have a pony.”
“Oh, so you do. Let me see, a great huge cake, then.”
“Ugh, no. I couldn’t manage a cake. No, I’m wishing for all of us.”
“All of us?”
“Me, Mammy, Nana and you, of course.”
The “of course” hit him with such power. “Me?”
She turned her head to look at him. “Silly, you’re one of us. Don’t you know that by now? Of course I would wish for you, too.”
He nodded. “I suppose it was a silly question,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “And what’s that wish?”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’m supposed to say. But since it’s you, I’ll tell you. I wished for it to be finished. For the balance to come back. For all to be well for us.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “That’s a really, really good wish, oh wise one.”
She slapped his hand lightly. “Don’t make fun.”
He shook his head solemnly, put his hand over his heart. “I’m not, on my honour.”
“Well, if it’s on your honour,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “I believe you, because I know you have loads of honour. More than anyone I know.”
Luke gave a harsh laugh. “I hope so.”
“I know so,” she said, her voice determined.
“With such faith I can be no other way.” He rose. “And now I must go and help make that wish come true.”
She held his hand, looked at him. Those golden eyes bordering on hazel, so like her mother’s, stared into his, searching.
“Come back,” she said. “Please.”
“I’ll do my best, little one.”
“Not that little,” she muttered.
He gave a small laugh and stroked her hair. “Not so little and so very wise.”
She was waiting for him when he entered, sitting up, her hair loose and hanging about her shoulders, the smile wide, the eyes bright, but the skin, so pale and translucent, vulnerable. He was still taken by her beauty. It sung to him, held him speechless.
“I heard you next door,” she said.
She lifted her hand towards him and he moved forward, drawn by the hand, by her. He sat down by her side, took the hand and kissed the back of it, tenderly. They’d not had enough of these moments since they’d come together, too much had come between them. But he resolved that they would soon. He would make everything all right. Set it to order. He leaned over and kissed her mouth, feeling her lips give under his, and the flame that sparked between them. It gave him hope, that spark, a desire that still kindled at the lightest touch, the merest look.
He deepened the kiss, brushed his hand along the curve of her jaw, down her neck to cup her breast through the thin material of her nightgown. He loved that she wore something so old fashioned as a nightgown, loved the way it draped her shoulders and her breasts. He caressed her nipple lightly and enjoyed its immediate response to his touch. He bent his head to kiss and suck it and revelled in the soft sounds she made.
He moved his hand under the covers, caressing each curve of her softly, tenderly. He looked into her eyes, saw the matching desire and made a decision. It was a decision that was reflected in her own expression, a mutual consent born of so much knowledge, understanding and want.
And as he shed his clothes and joined her in the bed, removing her nightgown with one swift movement, he suddenly knew that this was more than just a simple coupling, this was a ritual, sacred and important to what they were and what he must do. He felt it in her skin, the heat of her body, the way it met his. He kissed her, tasted her, every possible place he could place his lips, just as she tasted him, each moment more arousing than the previous, each fulfilling the other’s desire in myriad ways, until the final joining, when it didn’t seem possible they weren’t fused forever, two made one. The hero king joined to the land.
And when they were sated, but still twined, she lay in his arms and spoke.
“You must go,” she said.
It wasn’t a question. She was telling him it was time. Past time. That this union between them had been the last piece in the preparation for what was to come. The final battle.
Luke shoved the woman into the boat. That’s what he’d decided to think of Eithne. The woman. He didn’t want to name her in his thoughts, and certainly didn’t want to think of her biological relationship to him. Never that. As “the woman” she could remain anonymous, or even better, an enemy woman. That described her perfectly.
The enemy woman glared at him, nearly tripping as she tried to gain purchase in the boat. It was a little larger than he would have liked, this boat, but it was what had arrived after he summoned it, by the Glengarriff River north of Glengarriff, in the nature reserve. It was the nearest point he knew that would best serve his needs. He wanted to be away from the peninsula, instinct told him that. Too much opportunity for ambush, if Balor should choose that moment to try and rescue…the enemy woman.
Luke pushed her down against the seat, toying for a moment with tying her to it, anything to ensure she’d stayed put. For a moment he wished Mon were here to help keep watch, to hold her firmly while he navigated across the water. If he could reach the Time Between Time he thought he would be safe, but even then, there were possibilities.
He wore Retaliator strapped to his back, the spearhead and slingshot in a pouch tied to his jeans and a dagger sheathed next to the pouch. It was a risk, that dagger, but a necessity, also.
She was still gagged, and he was thankful for that as he took up an oar and pushed away from the bank, because her glances could set a forest afire in no time. He grinned at the thought of her discomfort and frustration, resisting the urge to smirk. That was too childish altogether, he told himself. Still, a half quirk of the lips escaped and her eyes snapped. He felt a little thrill of enjoyment. Sure, a little one couldn’t hurt. He’d stop now.
He turned his mind away from little tortures and focused on the enchantment he was weaving through thought and whispered words. He hadn’t uttered these words in so long he wasn’t certain he would remember them all. There were several twisty turns to manage to find the right currents to reach the Time Between Time from this remote location, and Anu, being in such poor health, made the land slow to respond to him, to help him reach that special place and beyond it, to the other side.
The words trickled out, the old language falling from his lips easily, at least at first. When he reached the middle part he stumbled a little, felt for the next phrase, suddenly uncertain, until the breath of wind told him the rest, a breath that smelled of Kayla, her faint voice so familiar, so much a part of him. He spoke the words and the rest followed, his confidence gaining as he reached the final section.
The boat floated, seemingly indifferent to the current, until one particular eddy caught it up and took it, a steady movement, determined. He sighed. The Time Between Time.
The woman’s eyes stared at him furiously. She struggled in her seat and he reached out to grip her arm, to hold her still. Suddenly she rose up and flung herself overboard.
“Feck!” he shouted.
His anger rose and burst forth in an unstoppable rage. He plunged into the water, the current taking him and her along. She disappeared underneath, her dark hair floating up, before it, too, was swallowed into the depths. Cursing again, Luke dived under, but it was difficult to see in the dark murky depths. His mind raced through the implications of a “will I just let her drown” scenario, but he knew there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t – and one reason, which angered him even more, why he couldn’t. It would give him great pleasure for Balor to feel the pain of the loss of his daughter, but the subsequent consequences of this pain couldn’t be risked. He knew that, and certainly it was why Eithne had taken this last resort. And, he told himself, that was what was propelling him to swim fiercely through the water, searching as much as the water allowed, until he saw a limb, grabbed it and held on, dragging it towards him until he could see the rest of her, her hands still bound, the gag in place. He locked his arm around her waist and kicked to the surface.
The water broke over his head with a burst of noise. Eithne was unconscious in his arms, her limp form heavy, but not impossible. He scanned the water for the boat, pushing aside the nagging concern about the implications of this turn of events in the middle of Time Between Time. He felt more hopeful when he located the boat. At least it hadn’t disappeared, forcing him to summon another one, wondering if he could.
Luke began to swim, bracing Eithne against him on one side and stroking the water with his free arm. The boat floated just beyond his reach. He stroked the water faster, and more firmly, but it seemed as though the boat was always just out of reach. Feck. Would he summon another? On impulse, he took a deep breath and dived once again. It was a risk, but he had no other ideas at the moment, except the bigger risk of summoning another boat. He moved quickly under the water, dragging Eithne behind him. After a few moments he burst through the water once again, pulling Eithne’s head above as he did so, and shook the water from his face. A shape loomed in front of him and he reached his hand out and hit solid wood. He allowed the relief to fill him as he hoisted Eithne into the boat first and then himself.
He panted heavily, unable to move from his recent exertion for a moment, until he recovered enough to tend Eithne. He removed the gag, unbound her hands and felt for a pulse at her neck. He frowned, unable to detect anything, until finally, he felt a faint, thready pulse. He sighed, glad that at least his efforts had been worth it. At least so far. There was still much to be done with her. Feckin’ Eithne, he said to himself. If he could he would take her by the ankles and turn her upside down to get the water out of her. Maybe shake more than water out of her at the same time. He smiled at the thought. She was his prisoner still, and he could take satisfaction from that. Sure, there was great satisfaction to be had in that, all right.
He rolled her on her side and began to pound her back, to get the water out of her. This was the next best thing, he told himself. He’d enjoy this, the rest could wait.