Fionn’s feet led him back to the cliff, though he was not consciously aware of the journey. He was lost in the tunnels of his own mind, thinking of his grandfather, whistling in the wind. When he reached the headland, most of the islanders were still there.
Fionn spied his mother and his sister across the grass, with Douglas and Bartley. Tara’s shoulders were shaking, her head pressed against Bartley’s chest. Fionn watched him plant a kiss on the top of her head and looked away, disgusted. The night was already a black hole of misery – he could not face one more abhorrent thing before dawn.
He pivoted around them, keeping his head down. There would be time enough to see his family. Time enough to tell them of their grandfather’s final words, and to grieve for him together. For now, Fionn made his way across the headland, to where Shelby was still perched on the edge of the cliff. Sam was with her, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, facing the dark horizon.
Fionn lowered himself down beside them. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi,’ they chorused.
Shelby took her hand from the Tide Summoner in her lap and placed it on top of Fionn’s. ‘We saw you go off together. He’s not coming back, is he?’
Fionn looked out at the glistening ocean. ‘No. He’s not.’
‘Sorry, Fionn.’ Sam clapped him on the back. ‘He was a great grandad.’
‘He was a great person,’ said Fionn.
‘Yeah,’ they said together.
They fell into silence, kicking the broken cliff-edge with their heels and chipping loose rocks into the sea.
After a while, Shelby turned to Fionn, ‘Are you ready to talk to Lír?’
‘Is she still here?’
‘Yes,’ said Shelby, tapping the shell. ‘I can feel her.’
‘Well, as long as she doesn’t try to kill us,’ said Sam, rubbing the chill from his fingers. ‘I’ve had enough trauma for one century. I’ll be in therapy for years at this rate.’
Shelby raised the Tide Summoner to her lips. This time, instead of blowing, she whispered something inside the shell. Then she slipped off the cliff and on to rocks. ‘Come on. Let’s get a bit closer.’
Fionn and Sam exchanged a glance, before slipping off the edge after her. They trod down the crumbling mountain to where the tide lapped up the shore, stopping on a boulder that was sure under their feet.
The water rippled. The crown came first – a sharp halo of coral and bone – and then the eyes, yellow as a blazing sun.
Sam stumbled backwards, pressing himself against the cliff.
Shelby laughed. ‘Scaredy-cat!’
‘I didn’t think she’d be so quick about it,’ he said defensively. ‘And besides, I just saw her eat a Soulstalker’s fingers like they were chicken nuggets.’
Shelby waved his response away. ‘Lír, these are my friends.’
The merrow folded her arms on the rock, her tail floating behind her in a sheen of silver. She studied them with languid suspicion, her yellowed gaze coming to rest on Fionn. ‘Storm Keeper,’ she said, in that familiar oceanic lilt. ‘At last you found us. With some help.’
Fionn stared at the crown bolted into her scalp. Lír, Queen of the Merrows. Queen of his short temper.
‘I wasn’t having much luck on my own,’ he said sourly. ‘As you already know.’
The merrow smiled, revealing a mouthful of shark teeth.
‘I sang you a song,’ she said, her tongue poking through her teeth. ‘For the Storm Keeper with the world’s fate on his shoulders, I broke an ancient rule.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ said Sam, creeping closer. ‘We’ve been breaking rules for quite a while now, and as you can see, things couldn’t be better.’
Shelby snorted. ‘We’re practically a lead destination for Tourism Ireland.’
Fionn was still glaring at the merrow. ‘Did you have to make it so difficult for me?’
The merrow tilted her head. ‘Perhaps you made it difficult for yourself.’
‘Fionn,’ Shelby hissed. ‘That’s a queen you’re talking to!’
‘Should we bow?’ asked Sam seriously. ‘Is that the correct etiquette?’
Fionn shook his head. ‘I bowed to one monarch today, and nearly lost my soul.’
The merrow smiled, but there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in it. ‘We are equal, Storm Keeper. We share the same destiny,’ she said, rising up from the sea. ‘One that will lead us into great darkness.’
Fionn’s resentment was quickly petering into exhaustion. His bones hurt – his heart too. He wanted to go home – to sleep for a while, and forget. Forget, forget, forget. He discarded his bravado.
‘Thank you for coming to help us.’
Lír turned to Shelby, the shell reflected in her wide eyes. ‘I follow the Tide Summoner, and she who wields it.’
‘Good,’ said Fionn. ‘There’s less chance she’ll disappoint you.’
Lír pushed back from them, and turned her face to Black Point Rock.
‘Can you see her?’ he asked, coming closer.
‘I can sense her. As you can.’
Fionn knew it to be true. If Morrigan had perished, he would have felt it. Her handprint was still cold inside him, his magic half choked beneath it. ‘She’s weak,’ he said, and the merrow nodded.
‘We should seal off the island then,’ said Shelby. ‘Make a barrier between the mainland and Arranmore, and keep an eye on the caves, so she can’t come up through any tunnels and escape.’
Lír dipped her head. ‘I’ll tell my merrows to guard the shores, and block passage to the mainland.’
She slipped back into the ocean. The waves washed over her, smoothing the surface in a final ripple.
‘I don’t think Morrigan’s planning on leaving,’ Sam pointed out. ‘Isn’t she supposed to come to power by snacking on our descendant souls?’
‘We just have to get to her before she gets stronger then.’ Shelby turned to Fionn. ‘You can use your magic against her. We all saw what it did to Ivan.’
Fionn shook his head slowly. ‘My magic only works sometimes, when I’m scared or angry, and when it does, I can’t seem to control it. I’m not like the other Storm Keepers. I’m … something else.’
‘What kind of something else?’ said Sam.
‘I have no idea,’ said Fionn. ‘But I think there’s someone we can ask. Someone we need to start looking for.’
Sam and Shelby stared at him with blank faces.
‘Dagda.’ Fionn turned his face to the quiet sea as warm fingers walked up his spine. His magic was stirring again – the barest, broken flicker reaching out through his bones, trying to grab on to the name.
Dagda.
His grandfather was right.
Morrigan had risen.
The world was tilting.
The time had come to resurrect their own sorcerer.